Minerva's Shield

By Derek Hart

The world has come to an end.
Or has it?
What starts out as a long overdue father-and-son vacation immediately becomes more complicated, when they uncover an unusual coin in the dirt. Frighteningly, it’s as if the planet is thrown into upheaval over this innocent discovery. All of a sudden, the FBI shows up at their door asking lots of questions, planting the seeds of paranoia, doubt and worry. The neighbors start acting strangely, almost on the verge of panic. The nearby military base is abandoned overnight and the weather has never been so unpredictable.
How does the normal citizen react to the conflicting signs of impending disaster? Father and son have gathered a few emergency supplies over the years, in case of an ice storm or tornado, but this is different. Is their feverish planning a reaction to the chaos around them, or merely hysteria? Will Dad’s past military experience make a difference as his instincts kick in? Yet before anyone can shrug off the feelings of impending doom, something truly horrific does indeed happen.
As everything falls apart around them, no one is certain what is happening. There is no cell phone service, no radio or TV, no form of communication whatsoever. What should the people prepare for - the ever-popular zombie apocalypse, or global economic collapse, another American civil war, nuclear or biological terrorist attack, super volcano or titanic earthquake, planet-wide meteorological disaster, impending asteroid collision, or perhaps an alien invasion from outer space?
While the masses flee in every direction, a small organized group finds refuge in a corporate data bunker, which was once a military facility. Here, thirty people are thrown together, perhaps by fate or coincidence, they come to wait out the final days, the dreaded apocalypse. Without warning or explanation, their lives are spared by the power of the mysterious coin – Minerva’s Shield. When they emerge from inside the mountain, however, they find a world relatively undamaged. Yet there is no trace that people ever existed. There are no bodies, no skeletons, not a single trace. It is a world without humans.
This diverse community of survivors quickly bands together to gather supplies and hammer out a new existence, where they appear to be the only living souls. The technological wonders at their disposal will help ease the transition, but they are soon forced to return to an agrarian society, growing crops and raising livestock.
Still, they are curious about what really happened that fateful day.
And someone, or something, is watching them as well.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Derek Hart
• Release date: Jan 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311011565

Derek Hart

Derek Hart is the prolific author of 28 action and adventure novels, known for their historical accuracy, while still maintaining a high level of entertainment. Romance is also a vital part of Derek Hart's trademark style and his novels generally appeal to men and women alike. Mr. Hart authored Secret of the Dragon's Eye, his first novel aimed at all age groups, which met with instant success and outstanding reviews. The author has since followed with Secret of the Dragon's Breath, Secret of the Dragon's Claw, Secret of the Dragon's Scales and Secret of the Dragon's Teeth. The final volume of the 6-episode series, Secret of the Dragon's Wings, will be available in November of 2018. He has since started a new series, post-apocalyptic in nature, with Minerva's Shield and Nike's Chariot. The third installment, Apollo's Plague came out in November 2017. Abandoned was published in March 2018 and Game Over premiered in June 2018. List of published books: Secret of the Dragon’s Eye Secret of the Dragon’s Breath Secret of the Dragon’s Claw Secret of the Dragon’s Scales Secret of the Dragon’s Teeth Secret of the Dragon’s Wings Claws of the Raven Danger Cruise Favor for FDR Crooked Cross Factor Tracks of the Predator For Love or Honor Bound Tales of the Yellow Silk Element of Surprise Seas Aflame Ice Flotilla High Altitude Low Opening Tangles of Truth Shadows in Replay Flag of Her Choosing Tidal Trap Dangerous (Poetry) Executive Firepower The CARLA Conspiracy The Wreckchasers Minerva's Shield Nike's Chariot Apollo's Plague Abandoned Game Over Mercury's Wings Before the Dead Walked Books coming soon: The Samuel Clemens Affair Pearl and Topaz By the Moon Darkly Broadmoor Manor Neptune's Trident Operation Sovereign Primary Weapon Saturn's Fire Tails of Thaddeus Enchanted Mesa Eagle Blue Last Guidon Excess Baggage Container Carta Codex Shipwreckers Romeo Tango The 5x5 Gang Desert Salvage

Book preview

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Perhaps one of the most common misconceptions among most people is that if a major wide-scale nuclear, biological, or chemical disaster strikes, chances of survival would be extremely low.

In reality, however, this could not be further from the truth. Many will survive, but most will not be prepared. Surviving the initial cataclysm is not the real challenge, but it will be surviving the aftermath. Most people don’t even take the time to consider the basic necessities for survival; much less take any action in advance. Sure, there are the fanatic survivalists, the doomsday anarchists, and pseudo patriots who stock up on weapons and plan to take over the world once the dust settles. Yet the common citizen will suffer horribly afterwards, as people desperately seek food, water and shelter.

There are many dangerous theoretical threats that exist on paper. However, for each possibility, there are practical preparedness solutions that exist, as well. Depending on your personal bias, you might prepare for the ever-popular zombie apocalypse, or global economic collapse, civil war, nuclear or biological terrorist attack, super volcano or titanic earthquake, planet-wide meteorological disaster, asteroid collision, or perhaps an alien invasion from outer space.

In any situation, there are four main elements to survival, which include water, food, shelter and security. This doesn’t just apply to being stranded in the forest or surviving the zombie infestation, it is applicable now even in our present time as a civilized society. The problem is that many of us have come to rely on others to maintain many aspects of our survival. Our current global economic system of trade provides the foundation for major catastrophe and suffering, where one broken link in the chain can bring down the whole system.

If you plan ahead, you might have a chance. If you do not plan ahead, you will not survive for very long.

It is that simple.

Minerva’s Shield

Derek Hart

Published by Derek Hart at Smashwords

Copyright © 2014 by Derek Hart

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwods.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. The characters and their actions are imaginary

and products of the author’s imagination.

Any resemblance to actual people, entities, or events is entirely coincidental.

Discover other titles by Derek Hart at Smashwords.com

www.smashwords.com

This book is also available in print.

Dedication

This novel is dedicated to my dear friend Mark Collins.

Foreword

Minerva was the Roman goddess of wisdom. Her symbol was the owl. Her Greek name was Athena, and Athens was her city. She had a strange birth. One day, Jupiter had a bad headache. Nothing would cure it. Eventually Vulcan split open Jupiter's head. Out jumped Minerva in armor with shield and spear! Jupiter felt much better afterwards.

Minerva was the goddess of arts and crafts. She was particularly good at weaving. Once a woman named Arachne wove a beautiful picture. Minerva tried to find something wrong with it. When she could not, she tore it up and turned Arachne into a spider. The spider still weaves beautiful webs.

Minerva helped the hero, Perseus, kill the gorgon Medusa, who was a monster with snakes instead of hair. Anyone who looked at a gorgon turned to stone! However, Minerva told Perseus to look at Medusa’s reflection in the polished shield she gave to him. That way he could cut the head off without looking directly at the gorgon. Perseus then gave the head to Minerva, who put it on her shield, so it would turn her enemies to stone.

As patron goddess of wisdom, Minerva frequently features in statuary, as an image on government seals, and in various forms at educational establishments. Minerva is displayed on the Medal of Honor, the highest military decoration awarded by the United States government. Minerva is often confused with Lady Liberty and in fact, Lady Liberty isn't just an abstract personification of freedom. Early American art makes clear that She is the Greek Athena and the Roman Minerva, Goddess of wisdom, philosophy, and civic virtue, the patroness of good government in Athens and Rome. Several of the most profound of the founding fathers felt the citizens of the United States were too uneducated to understand the significance of Minerva, so dubbed her Lady Liberty instead.

Preface

And you shall hear of wars and rumors of wars. See that you are not troubled; for all these things must come to pass, but the end is not yet. For nation shall rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom. And there will be famines, pestilences, and earthquakes in various places.

Matthew 24:6-7

Acknowledgements

Thank you to Jim Anderson, who provided wonderful information on the Black Hills Army Depot.

Thank you to Patty Pickett, who provided fantastic photos of the Black Hills Army Depot.

Thank you to Dave Renar, who provided firsthand knowledge on raising chickens and building a chicken coup.

Thank you to Janet Schill for her wonderful assistance in providing detailed information regarding the Stanley R. Mickelsen Safeguard Complex in North Dakota.

Finally, thank you to David Burke, who not only passed along his extensive knowledge of survival skills, but also continues to be a valued friend and mentor. The author freely recognizes that this novel could not have been written without David’s help.

Cover art by David M. Burke.

Introduction

There is another America out there. It is usually referred to as top secret, but that’s an over-simplification of programs, facilities, installations, and even towns that were created for a purpose not readily understood by the general public. A wall of secrecy, deception, and even misinformation protects some of these locations even to this day. This covert process has an enormous impact on Americans, but most of the country’s citizens go about their lives without even knowing the extent, scope and power of such operations.

The list is extensive. It includes germ warfare laboratories, government VIP relocation centers, electronic eavesdropping towers, drone launching runways, espionage training sites, chemical and biological weapons storage facilities, FEMA relocation camps, nuclear missile silos, advanced radar centers, data storage bunkers, Area 51, underground military headquarters, obsolete aircraft graveyards, aerospace test grounds, advanced weapons test ranges, abandoned Cold War bases, suspected UFO collection sites, underwater submarine bases, Cheyenne Mountain NORAD, Minuteman missile launch control centers, Nike missile launch pads, and nuclear waste isolation caves. In each of these cases, government officials have deemed them out of bounds to the average citizen.

In fact, there are so many of these top-secret installations in the United States alone, that it has given rise to a subculture of intrepid urban explorers, often known as Top Secret Tourists. These foolhardy adventurers risk arrest and possible imprisonment, just to get a glimpse of some clandestine aircraft base, abandoned military base, or covert installation. Their unofficial motto is: To Go to Places You’re Not Supposed to Know About.

The author freely admits to being one of these idiots.

Prologue

October 15, 1975

It was late afternoon when Lieutenant Colonel Sexton Rawlings (USAF) gently applied the brakes as he came to a complete stop just before the security gate. He couldn’t help but stare at the cement monstrosity towering over the base. Recently dubbed Nixon’s Pyramid, the Stanley R. Mickelsen Safeguard Complex was the first operational Anti-Ballistic Missile defense system built in the United States, just outside the small town of Nekoma, North Dakota.

He rolled down his window.

May I see your identification please, sir? the armed Air Force guard requested.

Rawlings handed over his Air Force photo ID, as well as his NORAD security pass.

The soldier studied the cards for a moment, and then walked to the guardhouse, placing a call to the command center.

The NCO returned shortly, handing back the forms of identification. They are expecting you, sir. Please follow this road to the visitor parking lot on your right, where you will be met and escorted inside, sir.

Thank you, Sergeant, Rawlings said.

Salutes were exchanged.

Sexton drove carefully along the newly paved road, until he reached the parking lot. As he pulled the government-issued blue Ford Falcon into a yellow-painted space marked Visitor, several uniformed officers came out to meet him. Rawlings turned off the ignition, stepped out and retrieved his briefcase, which was extraordinarily heavy. He groaned a little hoisting the weight.

Lieutenant Colonel Rawlings. He introduced himself as he approached the welcoming committee.

Again, salutes were exchanged.

Welcome to the Stanley R. Mickelsen Safeguard Complex, sir, spoke up a USAF major who was obviously in charge of the procession. I am Major Richard Harkness, the general’s aide. How was your flight into Grand Forks, sir?

Just fine, thank you, Major, Rawlings replied.

If you will follow me, sir, I will escort you to meet General Randolph Fugue.

After you, Major, Rawlings said politely.

The entourage fell into perfect step as they walked briskly into the underground entrance. Rawlings didn’t say a word and kept his eyes front. He knew better than to make small talk or ask any questions that none of those present would or could answer. Besides, Sexton Rawlings probably knew more about this specific facility, than the men walking beside him.

The Mickelsen Safeguard complex had been deployed to defend the offensive Minuteman missiles based at Grand Forks Air Force Base in the event of a nuclear ICBM attack by the Soviet Union or China. Depending on the threat, the system could also provide a limited defense of a wider geographical area, including other offensive Minuteman missile fields as well as civilian population centers.

The 80-foot-high truncated pyramid, or turret of the MSR, gave the radar its ability to see in all directions and was the only visible part of the facility. The underground complex held additional radar equipment and the data processing and command/control systems. The adjacent underground power plant provided the generating capacity to operate the battle management systems.

The massive three-foot-thick reinforced concrete walls of the MSCB were hardened against nuclear blast effects and shielded to neutralize the electro-magnetic pulse (EMP) produced by nuclear detonations. All critical equipment was shock mounted so that operations could continue while buttoned up during a nuclear attack. Each of the four phased array antennas was 13 feet in diameter and contained more than 5,000 antenna elements.

Design criteria required that both the MSCB and its power plant sustain the effects of a nuclear attack with all critical systems remaining operational. As a result, the MSCB was hardened and designed to contain all tactical operational control functions associated with surveillance, target acquisition, and Safeguard missile guidance and control. Maintaining its own support facilities, the MSCB could completely seal itself up, permitting uninterrupted operation, including its air supply, during and after enemy attack, even when the outside environment became intolerable. Protection was thus afforded to both personnel and the intricate machinery powering the radar faces.

The MSCB was the heart of the complex, because it monitored and controlled the onsite Sprint and Spartan missile fields and four remote Sprint launch sites and provided the terminal defense line for nearby Minuteman missile fields, protecting a geographic area of approximately 600 by 900 miles. It contained equipment capable of detecting and identifying multiple enemy targets, and then destroying them via the launch and guidance of its interceptor missiles. The equipment required for this task included radar, data processing equipment, control and monitoring equipment, and environmental and test support equipment. The weight of the building was estimated to be 160 million pounds.

The MSCB was a massive, partially buried reinforced concrete building with five levels, and the predominant structure at the site. The major portion of the building was subterranean, but the height of the exposed section was approximately 75 feet, and it contained the four phased-array radar antenna faces. This above ground area was often referred to as the turret. Its peculiar polyhedral shape resembled that of a cropped pyramid.

The party came to a stop outside a high-security conference room.

The general will see you now, Major Harkness said as he opened the door.

Thank you, Major, Rawlings said as he slipped inside.

The door closed behind him.

The general dominated the room, even while sitting at the table. Both his physical stature and his military service record were substantial. Fugue was known throughout the Air Force as a no-nonsense officer who enthusiastically believed in nuclear deterrent strategy.

Rawlings took off his cap, tucked it under one arm and came to attention, saying, Lieutenant Colonel Sexton Rawlings, sir.

Come have a seat, young man," the general said. His voice was neither welcoming nor hostile.

Rawlings ran his fingers through his regulation trimmed blond hair and then stepped forward to set his briefcase on the table. Sexton felt the blood rush back into his hand and he grimaced a little at the tingling feeling racing up his arm. He promptly sat down.

When I get a call from the Chief of Staff, I am forced to obey, the general said as he pulled out a cigar from inside his jacket. He lit it, puffing furiously. I don’t like it, however. Always feel these visits are precursors to an ambush.

That is not my intention at all, sir, Rawlings said quietly.

The general reached out and offered his hand. General Randolph Fugue. Pleased to meet you. Grover speaks very highly of you.

A huge cloud of white smoke rose into the air.

They shook hands.

It is my pleasure, sir, Rawlings replied. I am honored.

Grover also warned me that you’re a bit of a rogue, Fugue continued, rolling his tongue around the tip of the cigar. He took another deep draw. His hairline was rapidly receding, while what remained was turning white.

Rawlings smiled. I get things done, sir, that’s all.

The general stood up in the midst of a giant guffaw. Diplomatic little shit, aren’t you? You’re smooth and know just the right things to say.

I’m here at the bequest of the Chief of Staff of the United States Air Force, sir, Rawlings countered quickly. I am obeying orders and visiting one of the most respected missile men in the service. This is about making the best of a lousy situation, sir.

General Fugue walked over to the giant world map that covered one entire wall. He slapped his hand on it. The Stanley R. Mickelsen Safeguard Complex is the most advanced facility in the world. We weren’t operational for even one day and those Congressional pussies voted to shut me down. Those arrogant sons-of-bitches will pay.

Funding has already been withdrawn, sir, Rawlings reminded the general. Unless you have friends we don’t know about on Capitol Hill, it’s time to pack up and move on.

Congress is heading toward the unilateral scrapping of this key defense system, already paid for, may I remind you, on the flimsy grounds of saving some operational funds and the fuzzy hope that Soviet restraint will make it unnecessary, the General said with venom in his voice.

That’s why I’m here, sir, Rawlings said with cool quiet confidence. NASA would like to propose an alternative use for this facility, one that will utilize both the incredible technological hardware and the personnel.

NASA? Fugue growled. What the hell do those space jockeys want with my systems? Now that they’ve landed on the moon, I imagine they think they own the rest of the universe as well!

Planetary Defense, sir, Rawlings replied.

Don’t shovel shit in my direction, son, General Fugue barked, pointing a wicked finger. Just what does that mean?

Currently we have telescopes peering out into space, watching all those asteroids and comets zipping about, to and fro, the lieutenant colonel responded with a grin. Just so we don’t end up like the dinosaurs, NASA would like to have the defensive capability to keep any wayward asteroid from obliterating Earth.

The general rolled his penetrating brown eyes. So you want me to turn over this base, built specifically to knock down any nuclear missile those commie bastards launch toward us, so we can shoot missiles at some rock that may not come our way for another sixty-three million years?

Well, not exactly.

General Fugue leaned over the table and glared. Son, you are quickly becoming a pain in my ass.

Rawlings nodded. Yes sir, I have been known to have that effect on many commanding officers.

The general smiled, in spite of himself. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the map. That’s several billions of dollars of power out there. We can knock down anything those Soviet scums send our way. Just what are you proposing? Give it to me straight.

It’s top secret, sir, so I can’t give you the details until you agree to help us, Rawlings replied. However, I am allowed to give you a bird’s eye view, so that you may make an informed decision, in the spirit of cooperation and national security.

Go on.

The base will be phased out and eventually abandoned.

So exactly how does that help me?

While initiating your decommissioning stage, NASA technicians will conduct several tests, using your equipment, of course.

Of course.

It will appear to Congress and to the public, that this base is no longer functional. If and when the time comes for us to use our advanced systems to repel a dangerous asteroid or comet, we can make this facility operational in plenty of time. We do consider the possibility that this new system will protect us from any threat, including Soviet launched missiles.

Rawlings opened up his briefcase and turned it around slowly.

The general stepped forward to gaze upon its contents. What the hell is that?

It’s a specially designed transmitter plate.

Slowly the general turned around and looked at a huge photograph hanging on another wall, which showed the radar pyramid. Designed to fit inside our MSR Turret?

Yes sir.

May I? the general was asking permission to touch the object.

Rawlings nodded. You can try, sir.

Not yet aware what that response meant, the commanding officer reached out and attempted to pick up the item. It would not budge and was too heavy to move.

Jesus, son, what is that thing made of?

Rawlings shrugged. I have no idea, sir. Even if I did, I would not be at liberty to say.

Does it work, I mean, have we tested it yet?

In limited controlled environments, Rawlings replied. However, if you give me the go ahead, I can allow you access to witness it firsthand.

The general came to attention. Lieutenant Colonel Rawlings, I hereby grant you and your staff covert access to use this base to whatever means you deem necessary, until I am officially relieved of command.

Rawlings smiled and shook the general’s hand. I was hoping that would be your response, as the NASA operational units are already waiting outside the main gate.

The general’s eyes narrowed to mere slits. Boy, you are one sneaky piece of shit, but I like you.

Rawlings smiled. Thank you, sir. Will you approve their access to the turret, sir?

Fugue picked up the telephone earpiece. Major Harkness, please grant access to the men and equipment currently waiting at the west gate. You are to escort them into the turret. Yes, they are part of the decommissioning team. The general looked at Rawlings and winked. They are installing a new test radar application, before we lock this place down, so speed is of the essence. Thank you.

Rawlings closed the briefcase lid and pointed to the door. Shall we go see what this system can do, General, sir?

Fugue took the lead, of course, as Sexton heaved the briefcase off the table and almost stumbled from the weight. This time his right hand would feel the abuse. The pair of officers marched along the endless corridor, heading deeper underground, down into the nerve center of the most expensive and advanced radar system ever built.

Once they entered the central command room, NASA engineers were already busily at work installing their specialized equipment, which was specifically designed to interface with the existing Air Force hardware.

An engineer stepped forward and thankfully relieved Rawlings of his briefcase.

There are four identical plates, one for each direction of the compass, Rawlings explained. The signal beam projects north, south, east, and west, with overlapping grids to protect the entire planet surface. The energy source is secret, but once they’re set up, we will step outside and you can witness its power. The test will only last for as long as it takes for the four emissions to circumnavigate the globe and intersect, before we shut down.

The collected Air Force brass watched the transformation take place with curious detachment. It took several hours, but as soon as the technicians were satisfied everything was in working order, Rawlings invited General Fugue and his staff to step outside.

It was a clear evening, with not a cloud in the sky, only twinkling stars above.

When not in use, the four plates will be stored in a top-secret ammunition igloo at an undisclosed location, but far away from prying eyes, Rawlings said. However, the site is close enough to this facility, that the discs can be retrieved and installed in a matter of hours.

We are ready to begin the test, sir, a NASA officer reported to Rawlings.

Make it so, Sexton replied.

The four round radar receivers opened on the turret and narrow beams of light projected skyward from each one. The prisms expanded and began to spin, faster and faster, pulsating with immense power.

Suddenly, the entire night sky was crisscrossed with precise layers of blue light, creating an almost checkerboard pattern. This shield elongated and elevated, forming a massive shimmering blue dome of sparkling energy, which spread out in every direction.

No one witnessing this event spoke a word.

Rawlings looked at his wristwatch, as he counted off the time it took for the shield to surround the planet Earth. After 72 seconds, Sexton looked up.

Intersection is complete! shouted one of the NASA technicians.

Shut it down, Rawlings commanded.

Blink.

It disappeared in a heartbeat.

General Fugue turned and faced Lieutenant Colonel Rawlings. He wanted to say something, but thought better. Instead, he slowly offered his hand.

They shook hands.

It was as if it had been a prearranged signal, for at that moment, the entire operation was disconnected. NASA personnel raced back and forth, packing up all their equipment. In less than an hour, they were gone, as if it had never happened.

Fugue and Rawlings walked back to the visitor parking lot.

For several minutes of silence, they both looked up at the sky.

What are the odds that we will ever have to use this planetary defense system? Fugue asked finally.

Probably not in our lifetime, Rawlings replied.

Does the President know?

Yes, indeed.

Does it have a codename?

Minerva, Minerva’s Shield.

Many Years Later

Chapter 1

For Every Season

Death.

It is inevitable.

Some of us think about death a lot.

Some of us barely give it a second thought.

Still, it is unavoidable and is part of the final equation.

There is life and then there is death.

Death is the cessation of all biological functions that sustain a particular living organism. Phenomena that commonly bring about death include biological aging, predation, malnutrition, disease, suicide, murder and accidents or trauma resulting in terminal injury. Bodies of living organisms begin to decompose shortly after death. There is no scientific evidence that consciousness survives the death of an organism.

How we handle death is perhaps the greatest lesson of all.

Bob Norton’s mother passed away on Thanksgiving Day. His father died just ten days later. They had both been ill towards the end, but died peacefully in their sleep. For 86 years they had lived full and fruitful lives.

As was their wish, there were no caskets, no traditional funeral services, not even a memorial gathering. Along with his older sister Lydia, Bob had followed his parent’s last will and testament to the letter.

Their parents had requested cremation, their ashes to be scattered in the Black Hills of South Dakota. No funeral or memorial service was required, especially no mourning or sadness, for George and Ellie Norton were very spiritual and refused to think of death as the end.

It is only the beginning of a far greater adventure, their father had said. I can’t wait to get to heaven. I have so many years of Green Bay Packer football games to relive and since it is heaven, I can sit on the bench with the team, as well as years of Fighting Illini games! That’s why they call it heaven.

Bob smiled thinking about how his parents had such a positive view of the afterlife. Maybe they were wrong, maybe there was nothing afterwards, but it didn’t seem to matter.

I will get to see the United States before the white man spoiled it all, his mother would say. To see Yellowstone, the Grand Canyon, and all of South Dakota, when those places were still wild and untamed, will be such a joy to me.

The very thought of such a possibility used to bring tears to his mother’s eyes.

Bob sat with his sister as they shared a bottle of wine in her kitchen. Here’s to Mom and Dad. No more pain, no more old age, just freedom.

Clink went the glasses.

Sip.

Yummy, Lydia said. I love a good Merlot.

Me too, her brother chimed in.

They were waiting for the roast leg-of-lamb in the oven. It was a traditional Norton treat and the siblings agreed to share in the memories such a meal would provide. Dinner was delicious, the slices of lamb accompanied with asparagus, garlic potatoes, and Greek salad. Afterwards, brother and sister went into the living room to sit, digest and reminisce.

They took time to sort through old photos and memories of the past. Bob and Lydia were both born in Wisconsin, but grew up in suburban Chicago. There was plenty of laughter, a few moments of emotionally charged silence, and some tears shed. While some of the recollections were certainly painful, most of the remembrances were pleasant. Of course, life had dealt challenges, but the experiences taught valuable lessons too.

So I think Ian and I will drive out to South Dakota, to the Black Hills specifically, where we’ll find a scenic spot to drop their ashes, Bob offered.

Lydia was pleased. Oh, thank you. It will make a mini vacation for father and son.

Bob remained in the Chicago metro area for a few more days, visiting with old friends. Then he drove back to Marietta, Georgia, where he lived with his wife and son.

His wife Karen was petite and her skin was perfect like a porcelain doll. Her heritage was Japanese, and even though she had been born in Chicago, she was a gifted Asian cook, learning the skills from her mother. Professionally, Karen managed a top-end cosmetics store in a nearby mall.

His son Ian combined all the positive genetic traits of his parents. Ian was handsome, very smart, athletically gifted, and open-minded. He had been an especially easy child to raise, with an even disposition and broad sense of humor. Ian kept his black hair very short, mostly because his fencing mask was hot and short hair was cooler. He also had very penetrating black eyes, but a friendly, inviting smile.

Ian was a consistent 4.0 GPA student, but his true loves were for the sport of fencing and his girlfriend Rachel. He planned to put his fencing talent to work in his chosen profession – stage combat. Once he had earned his instructor’s certification, it was off to the University of Southern California’s Film School.

Karen had no problem agreeing to the trip, since she knew it was part of her in-laws final bequest. However, before Bob could make definite plans in June, he had to clear it with his son, because the teen had a busy summer ahead planned.

He spoke candidly to his son. I know you want to spend your summer with your friends, before they head off to college, but this trip will take just two weeks. We’ll leave right after your graduation and we can fit in a fencing tournament too. Your Aunt Lydia is paying all the expenses. We’ll drive to the Black Hills, find a good place for Grandma and Grandpa, scatter their ashes and then come home.

Ian didn’t look disappointed at all. Sounds like a great trip, Dad.

Bob was relieved.

The next morning, Bob awoke with a headache. Two cups of freshly brewed coffee didn’t seem to help. He had trouble focusing on his writing project, even though the plot really intrigued him. So instead, he went to take a shower.

He looked in the mirror. At 60 years, he was starting to show his age. His hair was a camouflaged mixture of blond and white, but when he didn’t shave, the grey stubble was obvious. Even at an inch over six feet tall, Bob looked out-of-shape, overweight, and sported a potbelly. His vision was no longer as sharp as it once was. He suffered from insomnia and knew he had high blood pressure. It was not fun getting old, even though his mind was still very sharp. In fact, except for what he saw in the mirror, he didn’t feel old. Bob credited his 18-year-old son with keeping him active.

In preparation for the upcoming trip, Bob started walking 25 minutes a day, and then an hour, before picking up the pace to a brisk walk. Very slowly and patiently, he began light calisthenics and weight lifting, trying to get his body back into shape.

Bob was a published author by trade, which required long hours of sedentary sitting before the computer. His dream of becoming a bestseller one day had still not materialized, but he did not intend to give up.

After a delicious Japanese dinner of sushi, sunomono, and rice, Bob retired to his office to write. He was in the midst of yet another action and adventure novel, which he hoped would entertain his loyal readers and perhaps gain new fans. He lost all track of time, which was normal, pounding away at the keyboard well into the wee small hours of the morning.

Bob poured himself another measure of bourbon. Swirling it around in the tumbler, he stared at the brown liquid, as if he would find some enlightenment. Instead, he only found memories. Some were bad, but most were good, or was that the 20/20 vision old age affords? Bob took a healthy gulp, but did not swallow, holding the spirits on his tongue.

Finally, down it went, burning. He closed his eyes and savored, if that’s what you want to call it, the sensation.

Once again, he heard that annoying, low-frequency humming sound.

Hummmmmmmmmmmm.

It was always worse at night.

It crept in slowly in the dark of night, and once inside, it never went away.

He got up and went to the window.

The humming sound faded, but only temporarily.

Bob heard it distinctly.

Was he going mad?

He chuckled to himself. Of course, he was insane. After all, he was a writer. He made up stuff, told lies, created non-existent people and fantasy worlds. How much crazier did he need to be?

From his past, the voices whispered about faded events, but never forgotten. There were things he had done, events he had witnessed, people he had known, and dreams never pursued. It wasn’t about regrets, for his past had shaped his present and future. It was more like a reevaluation of accomplishments versus goals yet unattained.

Shaking his head to clear the background noise rattling around inside his brain, Bob released a long sigh. It was one of those dramatic, end all sighs, the type that make people wonder if you’re okay.

He made up his mind.

Sitting down at his computer again, Bob wrote an email to David Brock, one of his very best friends, who he had known for over 17 years.

Hey Buddy, time for us to meet for lunch again and share tall tales and invent new lies. Please check your calendar and let me know what date looks good. Have lots to discuss. I’m looking forward to great conversation and delicious fried chicken at the Bulloch House. On top of that, I have an employment opportunity I think you might be interested in.

Your friend,

Bob

Only a few minutes later, David replied.

Hey, if you’re free tomorrow, let’s hook up then. It has been too long. Likewise, looking forward to fried chicken and scintillating BS! LOL

It was settled. Bob was thrilled to be seeing Brock again.

Around 11:30 the next morning, they met at Bulloch House, in historic Warm Springs, Georgia, about 2 hours south of Atlanta. The restaurant was renowned for fried chicken and green beans, not to mention fried green tomatoes and corn bread muffins. The food was always delicious, with that special homemade flavor.

Besides, Dave and Bob had been meeting there for many years, because it was a relaxing place, where they were left alone to eat and talk in privacy, a rare commodity these days.

Bob exited his car and helped David maneuver his wheelchair into position. Brock had been in a terrible car accident when he was twenty, left with a broken back and paralyzed from the waist down. However, if there was one thing Bob had learned, David had never let that get in his way. Brock was a computer whiz, a graphic arts genius, possessed a hilarious dry wit, and was Bob’s best friend.

Hey, David, Bob greeted his friend.

They enthusiastically shook hands.

It’s been a long time, my friend, Brock said.

Too long, Bob agreed.

I was so sorry to hear about your parents. Brock added on a serious note.

Thanks, Bob said. My mother passed away on Thanksgiving Day and my dad joined her ten days later!

I think your father missed her too much, commented Dave.

Bob smiled. I think you’re right.

Bob pushed Brock up the wooden ramp that led to the restaurant door. Once inside, since Brock was greeted as a regular customer, the server led them to their favorite secluded corner. They ordered cola to drink and the buffet for lunch.

Brock was a big man, even bound to a wheelchair for so many years. His arms were like tree trucks and he had gigantic hands. Before the accident, David stood 6 feet 5 inches and even now was an impressive figure of a man. Yet his jovial smile and genuine positive attitude made everyone in his presence comfortable.

So you said you wanted to tell me about an employment opportunity? Brock asked after they were comfortable at their table.

Bob opened up his briefcase and passed over a flyer and business card. The guy who owns this company has a son on Ian’s high school fencing team. We just got around to talking at a recent tournament and he told me he was aggressively hiring data storage managers. It’s a computer data company and they’re looking for people who can work straight shifts, meaning two weeks on the job, then two weeks off. The salary is based on the entire month. Based on the requirements, I would say you’re fully qualified.

Brock looked over the flyer and his mouth opened. This is the starting pay?

Pretty generous, wouldn’t you say?

His friend just nodded.

Think about it, Bob