Nike's Chariot

By Derek Hart

It was the end of the world.
Or was it?
It had started out like any other day. In fact, it was quite beautiful, not a cloud in the sky, balmy and just delightful. It was a perfect day for a picnic or playing in the park.
However, that wonderful weather didn’t last very long. The sky suddenly filled with angry, swirling green and black clouds, which quickly transformed into snarling and twisting tornados. Strange blue lightning sizzled overhead, before incinerating people and buildings alike.
Yet there was something else involved in this apocalypse, this final cataclysm. Strange black winged shapes that moved faster than sight or sound, zipped in and out of the destruction. Some thought they looked like evil dragons. Were they to blame for the final day?
In desperation, humanity fled in any direction, escape their only motivation. They died by the droves, scores of people swept up in the insanity of complete chaos, many killed with society’s collapse, at each other’s hands. As all of civilization was erased by powerful forces unimagined by any of them, a handful of citizens made it to safety.
Thirty lives were spared that day, not by the firepower of our armed forces or law enforcement, but by a simple coin, a medallion cast from an unknown metal. On the surface, the goddess Minerva’s likeness was cast.
That eerie, ear-shattering sound will never be forgotten. They remember it in the quiet hours and it haunts them in their sleep. The indescribable horror of such noise echoes in their souls and will forever change their perception of what really happened that day.
Faced with too many questions and no apparent answers, an intrepid band of 12 hand-picked explorers sets out on an expedition to seek supplies and perhaps other survivors. Even more so, they seek the truth of what really happened that day.
What they find instead is nothing but more questions. Yes, it was obvious that all signs of people have vanished. The countryside has been torn apart by nature gone mad, but was there something more sinister at work? Through Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas they travel, encountering one challenge after another. Turning north, they cross Oklahoma, Kansas, Nebraska, Wyoming, Montana, and into South Dakota, resolutely heading towards the abandoned Black Hills Ordnance Depot, where Minerva’s Shield was first uncovered.
Shocked by yet another unforeseen discovery, this hardy band of adventurers is thrown into the middle of a global conflict that defies explanation.
It was the end of the world.
Or was it?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Derek Hart
• Release date: Oct 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310293337

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

Nike’s Chariot

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.

Cover art by David M. Burke.

Dedication

This novel is dedicated to my friend Dave Renar.

Nike’s chariot sped through the sky, to conquer the darkness. - Mason Campbell

Acknowledgements

Thank you to Luben Jelezarov, Anthony Schell, Nick Shook, Katey Crockett, Ian Lenthart, Katie van Riper, Keegan Ellington, and Suzanne Leuck, for their wonderful input and assistance in the writing of this novel.

Thank you once again to Janet Schill for her ongoing assistance in providing detailed information regarding the Stanley R. Mickelsen Safeguard Complex in Nekoma, North Dakota.

Thank you to The Nike Historical Society and especially Ron Parshall, a Nike missile veteran, who, without a doubt, knows everything there is to know about Nike!

Finally, thank you to Mark Collins, whose tidbits of ideas and profound challenges led to this series being written. He is a force of nature.

Foreword

In Greek mythology, Nike was a goddess who personified victory and was also known as the Winged Goddess of Victory. The Roman equivalent was Victoria. Depending upon the time of various myths, she was described as the daughter of Pallas (Titan) and Styx (Water), and the sister of Kratos (Strength), Bia (Force), and Zelus (Zeal).

Nike and her siblings were close companions of Zeus, the dominant deity of the Greek pantheon. According to classical myth, Styx brought them to Zeus when the god was assembling allies for the Titan War against the older deities. Nike assumed the role of the divine charioteer, a role in which she often was portrayed in classical Greek art. Nike flew around battlefields in her chariot rewarding the victors with glory and fame.

Nike was seen with wings in most statues and paintings. Most other winged deities in the Greek pantheon had shed their wings by Classical times. Nike was the goddess of strength, speed, and victory. Nike was a very close acquaintance of Athena, and was thought to have stood in Athena’s outstretched hand in the statue of Athena located in the Parthenon. Nike was one of the most commonly portrayed figures on Greek coins.

Looks: Well-toned female body, classy curves, long wavy hair, honey-blushed skin, a pair of white swan wings, and graceful movements like a ballerina.

Dress: Flowing white dress or tunic, a green sash around the waist, a belt tied below the breasts, a cloak loose from the hips, a gold and green tiara, and golden sandals.

Optional Accessories: Olive wreath or crown, palm branch, a lyre or a flute, a phial, a bowl, an incense burner, Hermes’ staff, Athena's Torch of Enlightenment, Kronos' horn, and a small sharp blade given to Nike by her father.

Preface

Nike was a US Army project, proposed in May 1945 by Bell Laboratories, to develop a line-of-sight anti-aircraft missile system. The project delivered its first operational anti-aircraft missile system, the Nike Ajax, in 1953. A great number of the technologies and rocket systems used for developing the Nike Ajax were re-used for a number of functions, many of which were given the Nike name. The missile's first-stage solid rocket booster became the basis for many types of rocket including the Nike Hercules missile and NASA's Nike Smoke rocket, used for upper-atmosphere research.

The first successful Nike test was during November 1951, intercepting a drone B-17 Flying Fortress. The Nike Ajax was deployed starting in 1953. The Army initially ordered 1,000 missiles and 60 sets of equipment placed to protect strategic and tactical sites within the US: cities as well as military installations. The missile was deployed first at Fort Meade, Maryland during December, 1953. A further 240 launch sites were built up to 1962. They replaced 896 radar-guided anti-aircraft guns, operated by the National Guard or Army to protect certain key sites. This left a handful of 75 mm Skysweeper emplacements as the only anti-aircraft artillery remaining in use by the US. By 1957, the Regular Army antiaircraft units had been replaced by missile battalions. During 1958, the Army National Guard began to exchange their guns for the Ajax system.

Even as Nike Ajax was being tested, work started on Nike Hercules. With improved speed, range and accuracy, Hercules could intercept ballistic missiles. The Hercules had a range of about 100 miles, a top speed in excess of 3,000 mph, and a maximum altitude of around 100,000 feet. It had solid fuel booster and sustainer rocket motors. The boost phase was four of the Nike Ajax boosters strapped together. For the electronics, some vacuum tubes were replaced with more reliable solid-state components. The missile also had an optional nuclear warhead to improve the probability of a kill. The W-31 warhead had four variants offering 2, 10, 20 and 30 kiloton yields. The 20-kiloton version was used in the Hercules system. At sites in the USA, the missile almost exclusively carried a nuclear warhead. Sites in foreign nations typically had a mix of high explosive and nuclear warheads. The fire control of the Nike system was also improved with the Hercules and included a surface-to-surface mode which was successfully tested in Alaska.

Development continued, producing improved Nike Hercules and then Nike Zeus. The Zeus was aimed at intercontinental ballistic missiles. Zeus, with a new 400,000 pounds-of-thrust solid-fuel booster, was first test launched during August 1959 and demonstrated a top speed of 8,000 mph. The Nike Zeus system utilized the ground based Zeus Acquisition Radar, a significant improvement over the Nike Hercules guidance system. Shaped like a pyramid, the ZAR featured a Luneburg lens receiver aerial weighing about 1,000 tons. The first successful intercept of an ICBM by Zeus was in 1962, at Kwajalein in the Marshall Islands. Despite its technological advancements, the Department of Defense terminated Zeus development in 1963. The Zeus system, which cost an estimated $15 billion, still suffered from several technical flaws, which were believed to be uneconomical to overcome.

Still, the Army continued to develop an anti-ICBM weapon system referred to as Nike-X, which was largely based on the technological advances of the Zeus system. Nike-X featured phase-array radars, computer advances, and a missile tolerant of skin temperatures three times those of the Zeus. In September 1967, the Department of Defense announced the deployment of the Spartan missile system, its major elements drawn from Nike X development. The first operational Nike-X launch site was at the Black Hills Ordnance Depot in South Dakota. Even the much-vaunted Patriot missile system owes much of its success to the Nike.

In March 1969, the Army started the anti-ballistic missile Safeguard Program, which was designed to defend Minuteman ICBMs, and which was also based on the Nike-X system. It became operational in 1975, but was shut down after just three months when Congress revoked funding. The Safeguard Program was always shrouded in mystery and the abandoned facility was purchased in 2013 with the winning bid from a secular religious group.

Surprisingly, Nike missile systems are still in use today in South Korea, Greece, and Spain. Surplus Nike missiles are stored at the Redstone Arsenal in Alabama. As ongoing tensions continued to escalate with North Korea, the Nike system was once again upgraded and updated, with new stockpiles delivered to South Korea as recently as 2014.

Introduction

It was the end of the world.

Or was it?

It had started out like any other day. In fact, it was quite beautiful, not a cloud in the sky, balmy and just delightful. It was a perfect day for a picnic or playing in the park.

However, that wonderful weather didn’t last very long. The sky suddenly filled with angry, swirling green and black clouds, which quickly transformed into snarling and twisting tornados. Strange blue lightning sizzled overhead before incinerating people and buildings alike.

Yet there was something else involved in this apocalypse, this final cataclysm. Strange black winged shapes that moved faster than sight or sound, zipped in and out of the destruction. Some thought they looked like evil dragons. Were they to blame for the final day?

In desperation, humanity fled in any direction, escape their only motivation. They died in droves, scores of people swept up in the insanity of complete chaos, many killed with society’s collapse, at each other’s hands. As all of civilization was erased by powerful forces unimagined by any of them, a handful of citizens made it to safety.

Thirty lives were spared that day, not by the firepower of our armed forces or law enforcement, but by a simple coin, a medallion cast from an unknown metal; on its surface, the goddess Minerva’s likeness.

That eerie, ear-shattering sound will never be forgotten. They remember it in the quiet hours and it haunts them in their sleep. The indescribable horror of such noise echoes in their souls and will forever change their perception of what really happened that day.

Faced with too many questions and no apparent answers, an intrepid band of 12 hand-picked explorers sets out on an expedition to seek supplies and perhaps other survivors. Even more so, they seek the truth of what really happened that day.

What they find instead is nothing but more questions. Yes, it was obvious that all signs of people have vanished. The countryside has been torn apart by nature gone mad, but was there something more sinister at work? Through Alabama, Mississippi, Louisiana, and Texas they travel, encountering one challenge after another. Turning north, they cross Oklahoma, Kansas, Nebraska, Wyoming, Montana, and into South Dakota, resolutely heading towards the abandoned Black Hills Ordnance Depot, where Minerva’s Shield was first uncovered.

Shocked by yet another unforeseen discovery, this hardy band of adventurers is thrown into the middle of a global conflict that defies explanation.

It was the end of the world.

Or was it?

Prologue

The White House

November 29, 1990

US President George Bush was just exiting the Oval Office, after meeting with his cabinet. He led his entourage to the war room for yet another briefing, this time with military and intelligence leaders. Everyone took their seats around the long rectangular table.

All right, gentlemen, let’s not waste any time with formalities, President Bush began the proceedings. I just want a situation report, without all the fluff.

Mr. President, CIA Director Robert Gates began the briefing. You previously outlined your policies regarding Operation Desert Shield. With the United Nations vote on our behalf, Operation Desert Storm will commence immediately upon Congressional approval. The Agency is compiling all the necessary intelligence we can obtain to assist ground forces, once the liberation has begun.

Bush nodded and smiled. Thank you, Bob.

The Joint Chiefs Chairman, General Colin Powell spoke next. We started calling up all available reserve units and activating all Special Forces battalions with Desert Shield, Mr. President. Most of those units are already in place, but transportation will be our major concern for the remaining divisions to arrive in time for a major offensive.

The President sighed. He pointed a wicked finger at Dick Cheney, Secretary of Defense. I don’t want the media getting wind of any of this. Security is vital and American troops should be able to go from their bases, to the front lines, without some fucking reporter sticking a microphone in their faces.

As in every war, there are numerous Department of Defense directives prescribing military responsibilities for supporting the news media, Cheney replied with barely repressed disinterest. However, if you want to keep the liberal press from disclosing every move you make, then I suggest we do things under the radar. We must covertly move these men, or Saddam will know our every move within ten minutes.

Go on, General Powell, the President said with a forced smile. I didn’t mean to interrupt.

Within hours of the initial deployment orders, Navy and civilian merchant marine sailors aboard Military Sealift Command's sealift force ships swung into action, Powell continued his briefing. Maritime Prepositioning Ships loaded with Marine Corps supplies and equipment from Guam, Saipan, and Diego Garcia headed for Saudi Arabia.

Excellent, Bush said. Do we know what the situation is like in Kuwait?

Gates replied, The Iraqi forces have looted Kuwait City and are acting like a bunch of barbarian conquerors, Mr. President. The civilian population is in fear for their lives and all oil shipments have ceased. Our intelligence operatives report that Hussein has ordered the approaches mined.

Coalition efforts seem to be progressing well, Secretary of State James Baker spoke next. The Arab countries seemed more pissed at Saddam than we are. The only sticking point will be Israel. They must stay out of this.

President Bush knew that to be true. I’ve called Prime Minister Shamir and he assures me that Israel will not be easily provoked. I warned him that Saddam will probably fire Scud missiles at Israel.

Speaking of missiles, Mr. President, this will give us a prime opportunity to test our Patriot missile batteries, Colin Powell interjected. However, we have requested that Great Britain assign SAS units to seek out and destroy Scud sites as soon as hostilities commence.

President Bush merely nodded. The mention of missiles stirred something in his subconscious, but he just couldn’t place a finger on what it was that bothered him. Go on.

We have requested assistance from Maersk Sealand to provide container ships to transport our heavy armored divisions to Saudi Arabia, Chief of Naval Operations Admiral Frank B. Kelso outlined. They enthusiastically complied and we are currently rerouting their largest container fleets to our embarkation ports.

The President grinned. Ah, true cooperation, such a rare thing these days. Make sure that the Board of Directors at Maersk receives a formal thank you and some considerations in the future, if you know what I mean.

Now to keep a lid on troop movements throughout the United States, we have used a covert system of airlifts and railroads, to shuttle soldiers to key ports, General Carl E. Vuono stated. We are currently flying men into the Black Hills Army Depot, an abandoned base in South Dakota. They are then loaded onto trains, which take them directly to San Diego.

President Bush looked troubled again. Specifically, it was the mention of the Black Hills Army Depot that sparked a flash of recollection. He pondered what exactly it might be that caused him to react in such a way. Once the meeting had concluded, President Bush was determined to find out what exactly had triggered such a reaction.

General Norman Schwarzkopf will command all coalition forces, Powell reported, obviously quite pleased with the selection.

President Bush was also happy with the news. Marvelous. I am authorizing the full air assault on Bagdad to begin no later than January seventeenth. After that, it’s Schwarzkopf’s show, though I do expect regular status reports once combat begins.

General Powell nodded. Why of course, Mr. President.

Bush stood up. Well, that concludes the business for now. I am very pleased with all of you. Let’s keep this operation rolling along.

The President then pointed at the Director of the NSA, Vice-Admiral William Studeman. May I have a word with you in private, please, Bill?

Yes, sir, the Navy officer replied smartly.

Studeman followed the President into the Oval Office, along with General McBride, the Air Force general in command of America’s nuclear deterrent, and Bob Gates.

They all sat down on the comfortable sofas.

President Bush rubbed his forehead for a moment, collecting his thoughts. Just now, when we were discussing missile defense, I was troubled by a recollection. It concerned BHAD in South Dakota.

General McBride suddenly looked quite uncomfortable. I think you’re referring to Minerva’s Shield, Mr. President. The sophisticated defense system is stored at BHAD, in one of the subterranean igloos.

So there is no danger to Minerva’s Shield, what with all our increased activity there? Bush wondered.

No sir, of course not, General McBride replied, but he suddenly was fidgeting.

Speaking of missiles, shouldn’t we consider activating Minerva’s Shield, considering the possible threat from Saddam Hussein’s Scuds? the President asked.

McBride looked puzzled. I don’t see any real application at this time, Mr. President. Nothing Saddam Hussein has in his inventory would pose any threat to our national interests and it would cost billions to get Minerva’s Shield ramped up.

Bush still looked perturbed. Has anyone ever performed a live test of Minerva’s Shield?

McBride nodded emphatically. Yes sir. NASA conducted a complete test in 1975.

That was fifteen years ago, General, Bush said, suddenly standing up. What if I asked you people to conduct a live-fire exercise, what would you do then?

The general didn’t reply.

Well General, I asked you a question, Bush stated with impatience. What if NASA came to us tomorrow and told us they had spotted an asteroid on a definite collision course with earth and they wanted Minerva’s Shield activated. How would you respond?

We would send teams to BHAD to search and recover the discs, he replied.

The President cocked his head to one side. Did I just hear you use the word search?

McBride scuffed his shoes against the carpet. The fact is, Mr. President, we don’t know which igloo actually stores the activators.

As General McBride said this, his face turned red with embarrassment.

This is some kind of joke, right? the President asked in utter disbelief.

I’ve spoken to retired General Marcus Rawlings, but he assures me the Minerva’s Shield system was securely sealed within Igloo 545 on March 27, 1976, General McBride continued. We have President Carter’s signed orders and NASA’s log entries. The location has been monitored continuously for over fifteen straight years, sir.

So you went to Igloo 545 and they weren’t there! President Bush shouted.

No sir, the igloo was empty, McBride said.

You’re telling me that the most advanced planetary defense mechanism ever designed, which was given to us for safekeeping, has vanished? the President asked, while trying to remain calm.

I doubt it has vanished, sir, but we are having difficulty locating it, McBride replied.

President Bush scowled at Robert Gates. I want an immediate investigation into this situation, Bob. Get Bill Sessions and his vaunted FBI looking into this immediately! Once all the troops have passed through BHAD, I want that abandoned base turned upside down. That means every igloo searched thoroughly.

Yes, Mr. President, we’ll get right on it, Gates said.

Bush shook his head. We can’t be about to start a war without knowing where Minerva’s Shield is located. This is obviously a clear and present danger to the United States!

The President’s words were all NSA Director William Studeman needed to hear.

Approximately 1,614.4 miles away, in a supposedly unoccupied corner of South Dakota, a flurry of activity was underway. It was just before midnight, as helicopters of all sizes and descriptions were shuttling to-and-fro from makeshift tarmac platforms, while C-130 cargo planes landed on the hastily repaired runway at regular intervals. Hundreds of men in uniform disembarked, carrying their duffle bags to march down the hill to the awaiting train. Military police kept the parade moving in an orderly fashion, always watchful for the ever-present straggler or more desperate deserter. Still, there had not been one incident of disorderly conduct, as most of these fighting men were career military from elite units.

Hold up there, men, echoed a shouted command over an intercom speaker on the cattle loading platform. This train is full and departing. The next train will be here in about thirty minutes, so stand down. Smoke ‘em if you’ve got ‘em.

There was a collective groan of disapproval, but almost in one motion, several hundred men dropped their bags and sat on them. The troop train pulled away from the dock without signaling its departure, with no lights and no fanfare. This was obviously a secret operation and the less the few locals knew about what was going on, the better.

The remaining soldiers were from the vaunted 24th Infantry Division and their rapid deployment to Saudi Arabia was creating a logistical nightmare with the daily arrival of US forces in the region. The soldiers of the 24th Division were being housed in warehouses, airport hangars, and even on the desert sands in tents. This remaining unit was part of the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment. Their Bradley Armored Fighting Vehicles were traveling overseas on container ships.

Captain Gary Phelps was making the rounds, making sure his men were okay, when he was approached by one of his veteran brigade sergeants.

What’s up, Longhorn? Captain Phelps used the NCO’s nickname.

Master Sergeant Lance Longhorn Letterman saluted formally and said, Do you know where we are, sir?

The captain shook his head. No. It looks like some abandoned factory or something.

The sergeant seemed a little agitated. This is the Black Hills Ordnance Depot, sir. We’re in South Dakota.

Phelps grinned. He respected Letterman’s incredible sense of direction and knew the sergeant probably was correct. So?

Well, sir, I grew up in Sturgis, South Dakota, Letterman replied. This place was abandoned in 1967, but up until that time, there were over eight hundred ammunition igloos filled with munitions and chemical warfare agents.

Captain Phelps seemed impressed with Letterman’s knowledge. You don’t say? Too bad it’s night and we can’t go snooping around.

This place gives me the creeps, sir, Letterman said vehemently.

His commanding officer was surprised. I find that hard to believe, Sergeant. I’ve never seen you afraid of anything, much less ghosts.

It’s not ghosts, sir, the sergeant said. It’s weirder than that.

Captain Phelps wanted to continue making his rounds, so he patted Sergeant Letterman on the shoulder and said, Take a walk, Longhorn, and work off some of that nervous energy. We’ll be fighting Iraqis soon, so I don’t want you all keyed up.

With that, the officer stepped away, stopping to briefly chat with each soldier on his way back to the loading platform. He didn’t give a second thought to Letterman’s worries.

In the meantime, several more planes had landed, disgorging their loads of men, so now there were just short of 800 soldiers to account for. They shuffled down the hill, joining the men already waiting for the next train.

Twenty minutes later, four huge diesel engines pulled to a stop, the passenger cars lined up for another load of men. Whistles blew and orders were shouted, as the men stood up, lined up, and waited to climb aboard.

As each man stepped through the door, he called out his name, to be checked off a long list. The procession moved in an orderly fashion, without mishap. That is, until all were aboard and only one name was unaccounted for.

It turned out to be Master Sergeant Lance Letterman.

Captain Phelps was beside himself with worry and anger. Not once in Letterman’s sterling career had the sergeant ever been AWOL, or even late for an assignment. This behavior was certainly not like his trusty old Longhorn.

I’m sorry, sir, but we can’t hold up the train any longer, the MP said. I promise, once dawn comes, we’ll take a look for your Sergeant Letterman.

Make certain he’s on the next train, Phelps commanded in no uncertain terms. I’ll take care of his punishment when we get to where we’re going.

The MP saluted and said, As you wish, sir. Now get aboard, sir, so we can get ready for the last train.

Captain Phelps blew out a desperate sigh and stepped onto the already moving train. There was something amiss and he knew it.

The Burlington Northern Santa Fe engines growled with immense diesel power as they churned forward, wheels slipping momentarily, before grabbing hold of the rails. The long troop train pulled away from the now empty platform, taking its human cargo to San Diego and then they would sail to Saudi Arabia.

Once the sun was up, the military police spread out to look for Sergeant Lance Letterman somewhere amongst the ruins of the abandoned military base. After hours of fruitless searching, they notified local law enforcement authorities to be on the lookout for a US Army deserter. No trace of the sergeant was ever located and he was later removed from the 3rd Armored Cavalry’s roster. Subsequent searches failed to turn up any clue as to the sergeant’s whereabouts, though it was assumed that foul play might be involved. However, without sufficient evidence, the case was closed and Letterman’s fate was never known.

On February 22, 1991, Captain Phelps led F Troop of the 3rd Armored Cavalry Regiment across the sand berm into Iraq. In 100 hours, they moved over 300 kilometers, and left the destroyed remnants of three Iraqi Republican Guard Divisions in their wake. After each engagement, Captain Phelps wondered what had happened to his brilliant combat leader, Master Sergeant Lance Longhorn Letterman.

More Than a Year Had Passed Since the Cataclysm

Chapter 1

Empty Horizons

Death.

It was inevitable.

But did it have to be so horrific?

The bodies were heaped around him.

Corpses and cadavers and skeletons were piled high, nothing more than rotting flesh. Humanity had come to an end. The world had come to an end.

He looked at his hands.

They were covered in blood.

His clothes were drenched with it.

Millions and millions of rats feasted nearby.

Thousands of crows pecked away, while billions of insects skittered amongst the dead. The stench was unbearable.

How could it have ended this way?

He suddenly looked up.

It was the noise they made.

Clacking jaws and snapping teeth.

They were coming, coming straight for him.

He sighed with the futility of it all.

It was still a question of survival?

Survival for what?

Now he could see them.

They formed a wall of snarling, mindless undead creatures from beyond the grave.

He lifted both automatics and opened fire.

It wasn’t necessary to aim.

He couldn’t miss.

Ejecting empty magazines, he quickly reloaded and fired again.

Splat!

Blood sprayed everywhere.

They swarmed around him.

Slathering teeth snapped viciously just inches from his neck.

Bang!

He fired again and again, but they kept right on coming.

Blam, blam, blam.

Click.

Both magazines were empty.

He had run out of bullets.

Damn, he muttered.

The zombies swept over him and sunk their teeth into his exposed flesh.

David Brock awakened with a jolt, the nightmare still fresh in his mind. He had fallen asleep, his head resting on a computer keyboard in the command center. Dave yawned and shook his head with disgust. He was soaked with sweat.

I’ve got to stop watching so many zombie movies, he muttered to himself.

The data bunker was deathly silent. It was an hour before sunrise and just about everyone else was still asleep. That was supposed to exclude David Brock. He usually volunteered for the graveyard shift because he could seldom sleep at night anyway. Dave would watch the monitors, switching from one outside camera to another, checking on the chicken coups, the barn, the pigsty, and then the approach road and nearby pastures. He would then check all the internal cameras, before starting the sequence all over again. This process was repeated hour after hour, but normally Brock didn’t mind. It gave him time to think.

Bob Norton and the exploration convoy had only been on the road for a few days, but it seemed like an eternity. Brock impatiently rolled his wheelchair along the main corridor of the bunker, heading for the kitchen. He needed a hearty breakfast to take his mind off his worries.

Brock was convinced that the people remaining behind were already showing signs of increased stress. They were used to having Norton around and while Morgan Effingham was a very capable leader, it would take some time to get used to Bob’s absence.

Cheryl Boone greeted David with a kiss on the forehead. Good morning, Dave. The usual spread for breakfast? She was an early riser too, usually the first one up to get started on the day.

Brock forced a smile. Extra bacon today, sweetie. I’m feeling grumpy.

Oh dear, that isn’t acceptable behavior, big guy, she pretended to scold him. Besides, you’re too nice to be grumpy.

Bah, he grunted. Believe me, I can get pretty ugly, if so provoked.

She stopped when she heard the serious tone to his voice. What’s wrong?

He waved her off. There’s nothing wrong. I’m just feeling ill-at-ease.

She broke three eggs into a frying pan, before replying. I know how you feel, at least I think I do. It’s weird having so many of our friends away at the same time.

David shrugged. It’s more than that. I’m not one to get worried about things needlessly, but I keep getting this gnawing sensation that they’re going to find something out there. I mean something they wished they didn’t know.

Cheryl served up his breakfast and sat next to him with a cup of fresh brewed coffee. Maybe you should try to convince Bob to come back?

Ha! Brock blurted after swallowing some egg. I’ve known him for a long time and he’s pretty much made up his mind how things are going to be.

Cheryl nodded, for she knew that was true. Yes, Bob is pretty defiant at times, but he’s my buddy too. He’s usually right, even when he’s passionately yelling at us.

Brock chuckled. Well, I only make fun of him, because we’re such good friends and he does follow a pattern.

Cheryl lowered her voice. So what’s the scoop with Bob and Debra?

Brock shook his head. Oh, not you too? What is so fascinating about them?

Cheryl’s eyes widened. David, you’ve got to be kidding. There has to be a lot of history between them, judging by all the passion they share.

David shrugged. Simply put, he’s had the hots for her for years. Debra had the hots for him once too, I think. Life got in the way and they parted company. Then, the world came to an end and presto-majicko, they’re back together. I shall not attempt to explain the wonders of the universe.

Cheryl could sense that it was neither the time, nor the place, to discuss the issue further. She changed the subject. David, can I ask you for a favor?

Of course, he replied naturally.

I understand from Bob that you used to restore muscle cars, she said.

He shook his head. Well, that’s not entirely accurate. I love engines and cool old cars that were made to last, it’s true, but I never actually restored one from start to finish.

Oh, Cheryl said, obviously disappointed.

Why? he asked.

She shrugged, before rather sheepishly saying, I want to go out there and find a 1967 Chevelle, one that is a piece of junk, and then fully restore it.

David’s eyebrows went up. Well, at least you’re specific. That’s going to be a tall order. Maybe I should radio Bob to keep his eye out for one and they can bring it back with them.

She laughed with embarrassment. I know it’s impossible, but I was just wishing out loud.

Brock shook his head. Now I didn’t say it was impossible. Besides, I’m not sure Bob would know a Chevelle if it bit him in the ass.

They both laughed.

Instead, now that I know what you’re looking to do, I can take a drive around and see if I can find one, in a junk yard, or something, David offered. On second thought, I’ll probably have more luck checking backyards and private garages.

Cheryl shook her head. I don’t want you to go to that much trouble.

It’s no bother, he countered. I really do need to get out of here, now and again. I’m getting cabin fever.

You mean bunker fever? she said.

They laughed again.

So the 1967 Chevelle must have special meaning for you? Brock asked.

She nodded. Wonderful and special memories indeed.

He knew enough to let it go at that. Well, I feel honored that you confided in me. I’ll put it at the top of my list, in exchange for your continued awesome cooking.

Cheryl leaned forward and kissed him on the forehead again. You are a dear.

So everyone keeps telling me, David grumbled. I want somebody to call me a badass!

You’re that too, honey, Michelle Bonner said as she walked in. Sweeping her luxurious black hair out of the way, she gave him a big kiss on the lips and then a hug.

Brock blushed.

You two sure are cute together, Cheryl observed, a bit jealous.

David nodded, but he didn’t want to belabor the point. After all, he wasn’t blind and had perfected his skills of observation over the years. He was quite aware of the human interaction going on all around him at the bunker. As with any relationships, body language and conversations were important, but more so was what wasn’t being said. It was obvious that Cheryl needed to fall in love, or at least find someone to be with on a regular basis.

I wonder what minor incident will blow up in our faces today? Brock said.

Michelle looked surprised. What’s wrong?

David shook his head. Nothing that is readily obvious, well, at least not on the surface. It’s something I can sense, that’s all. Ya got trouble, my friend, right here, I say, trouble right here in River City.

Michelle was too young to get the correlation. She had probably never even seen The Music Man.

However, Cheryl chuckled and started whistling her rendition of the hit song from the musical.

Brock sighed.

It can’t be that bad, can it? Michelle asked, suddenly worried.

This isn’t exactly Utopia, you know, Brock said emphatically.

Tell me about it, Cheryl said over her shoulder.

They weren’t the only ones who were not pleased about how things were developing. Sarah Boone was extremely unhappy about being left behind when the convoy set out. She had desperately wanted to go along on this grand adventure and felt unappreciated and even ignored. Likewise, her relationship with Kurt Effingham was over and so be it.

Men are fucking losers, she growled to herself.

Sarah’s only relief was that she was on the duty roster to go scavenging, but since the activity only came around twice a week, she felt claustrophobic. Hurrying back to her apartment, she rousted her younger brother Jack.

Wake up you lazy bum! she said loudly, while twisting her hair into a ponytail. We get to go exploring today.

Jack jumped out of bed, because he too was excited to do something different and challenging. I’ve got to take a shower first.

No problem, just don’t take too much time, his big sister said. I want to be out there as long as possible.

When her brother was ready, Sarah grabbed him by the sleeve and yanked him along to the garage. Their assigned pickup truck was fueled and ready to go.

Morgan Effingham was there to greet the day’s drivers. Here are your want lists. Please try and fill everything on the lists, before you go freestyle.

Sarah handed their list over to Jack. She had no intention of doing anything other than what she wanted to do. Besides, screw them all. Sarah was determined to discover something big, something that would make them all take notice! This was about freedom. Once the gigantic garage doors lifted high, Sarah Boone floored the gas pedal and they were off.

Damn it, slow down, Jack Boone protested.

Sarah shook her head. No chance, little brother. I want to get as far away as possible, before we start ransacking and looting and having fun!

Yeehah! Jack cheered.

Meanwhile, off in western Georgia, the search convoy of four vehicles came to a halt. The trip had been uneventful so far, but everyone was still on edge. After all, this was the farthest they had ventured away from the bunker. Binoculars scanned in every direction, but no movement was detected. Still, that didn’t mean it was safe. Bob Norton nursed the accelerator, never exceeding 50mph, as they neared their first real objective.

Rome, Georgia was their destination and Bob also hoped it would give an opportunity for the team to see what obstacles they might run into in the future. It would also afford them a chance to see how much loot they could gather in a single day’s time.

Their first stop was the Sara Hightower Regional Library.

Bob had to admit he really enjoyed looting libraries. At least this way some of the books wouldn’t be lost to the elements, decaying into dust. He pulled off his combat helmet and ran his fingers through short, sweat-soaked hair, which was more white than blond, but was perfectly camouflaged.

Remember, look for books we don’t already have, Kathryn Berg reminded them. If you’re not sure, check with me.

Suiting up in full combat gear, the twelve explorers cautiously climbed the front steps and pushed their way inside. The interior was dark and utterly too quiet, but then everything was that way since the cataclysm. Alex McAlister lugged a portable generator inside the foyer and started it up, switching on three powerful spotlights once they were connected.

They divided up into three teams of four and began the search.

Since successfully raiding four local libraries in the past, the want list was a lot shorter than it used to be. They were looking for specific titles on specific subjects. Of course, if anyone found something really interesting or valuable, it was perfectly excusable to include it with the other volumes.

Why do we keep looking for so many books?’ Flaca Sanchez asked. It seems like we have everything we need."

Knowledge is survival, Marcus Jordan told her. There’s a lot of knowledge out there to take in and much of it is written in print.

Spontaneously, Flaca threw her arms around his waist and gave Marcus one passionate kiss. While surprised, he enjoyed it and responded appropriately.

Why do you like me? she asked. I’m not very smart and you’re so smart.

He shook his head. That’s not true. We’re just knowledgeable about different things. Besides, just because you’re so damn hot, doesn’t mean I would be attracted to you, if you were also a dumb bimbo. I love our conversations and especially your viewpoint, from a culturally different background.

She smiled and it was dazzling.

Marcus laughed with delight.

They kissed again.

When parting, both were breathless.

Okay, well, now let’s check the cook books, Marcus said.

Flaca just laughed and took his hand, pulling him along.

They certainly seem to be getting along, Debra Vitale observed from a distance.

Yes, love is in the air, Bob Norton said.

I detect a hint of sarcasm, Debra said.

He shrugged. No, I’m glad people are establishing relationships. Without them, our community would be doomed. I’m just glad that Nick and Rumen can stay focused.

Debra put her hands on her hips. Oh, so we’re a distraction now, are we?

Bob knew he was getting into trouble. He had reached that point in the conversation where no matter what he said, it wasn’t going to help. I can’t speak for anyone else, but yes, you are a wonderful distraction and I find myself thinking about you most of the time.

Debra’s eyes narrowed and she studied him for a moment. That was pretty quick thinking, mister.

He smiled weakly, but decided it was time to shut up.

It was okay, however. Debra took him by the hand and they went exploring too. The teams made quick work of the library and went out the door carrying plastic storage bins.

When everyone had been accounted for, Bob let them take time to eat a snack and have refreshments. He sat down with his son Ian and Rachel Sato, the convoy’s communication expert. She handled nine different frequencies and relayed messages back and forth from the bunker. Her headphones left imprints on her skin around the ears.

Rumen left an English/Bulgarian dictionary with Brock, Bob explained to her. If there’s anything he wants coded, David will send it in Bulgarian and Rumen will translate it for you, so don’t freak out if you get a message that doesn’t make any sense.

Rachel Sato grinned. Okay, Mr. Norton.

Likewise, if I want a message to be read only by Brock, we’ll send it in Bulgarian, Bob went on. It’s not like we’re hiding anything from the rest of the people, but sometimes we might have communication that needs to stay quiet. Understand?

Rachel nodded and then thanked Ian for the sandwich and cold soft drink he had made her. She was distracted by the most peculiar way Debra was looking at Bob.

Nice explanation there, sport, commented Debra. Are you worried about someone spying on our communications?

It’s not that, Bob replied. I just think there are going to be times when we will want to send a message to Morgan, or Elena, or Matt, or Brock, without worrying that the entire community will know what it says thirty seconds later.

She nodded her agreement. No, I think it was a very wise move. I just hope coded messages don’t start rumors. I worry that the slightest provocation might start something far worse, because their imagination might run wild.

Bob had to agree, no matter how much he didn’t like it.

Once again, Alex and Marcus disconnected the spotlights and carried the equipment back to the second SUV. They had only spent four hours at the library,