Rise of the Phoenix: Act 1, Act 2, Act 3

By Dameon Gibbs and Corey Ballard

Two Bodies: a Skilled Merc, and a Powerful Terrorist…
Finding their connection is the responsibility of CIA Analyst Dante Tucker and Delta Force Operative Sgt. Nicholas "Edge" Pierce. It quickly becomes clear that the murdered terrorist is simply the start of something far larger, a plan that intends to shake the foundation of America.

The Heart of Miami is in Ruins…
Destroyed by a new weapon, wielded by a mysterious organization. Tucker and Edge are on the hunt for those responsible before the next phase of this plan can be launched. But with each encounter they have to question are they the

Hunters or the Hunted?
In this game of cat and mouse that extends from the Everglades to the mountains of Oregon and the nation's capital itself, Tucker and Edge will stop at nothing to bring down those who are responsible!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Sep 17, 2017
• ISBN: 9781387236572

Book preview

Rise of the Phoenix: Act 1, Act 2, Act 3

RISE of the PHOENIX: Act 1, Act 2, Act 3

Dameon Gibbs

Corey Ballard

Rise of the Phoenix: Act 1, Act 2, Act 3

Copyright©2014 Dameon Gibbs & Corey Ballard

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review, without expressed permission in written form by the author.

ISBN: 978-1-387-23657-2

Acknowledgement

First, I would like to thank my beautiful wife Tiffany for being by my side and supporting me every step of the way. And to my other friends and family that continues to believe in me when others do not. Special thanks and appreciation goes to my Eastern Shore parents, Mrs. Pat and Mr. Fred, for this would not have been possible if it were not for your dedicated long hours. Last but not least, to my brother in arms Corey, all I can say is, WE DID IT! ------ Dameon Gibbs

I’d like to thank Dad and Mom for believing in us and all the endless hours of editing you’ve helped with and still are. Thanks to Haley and Gene for committing to help with such a narrow window. To all my friends who’ve helped keep this alive and epic. Last, my co-author for putting up with all my roadblocks and driving me to finish our great novel! -----Corey Ballard

Act I

Prologue

Bombardment

Present Day

6:30 am EST

The orange sun rose over the Atlantic Ocean; with its morning rays came a cool, refreshing breeze. The bright rays pierced the Venetian blinds of Steve Lawson’s bedroom window creating a zebra-like pattern along the white walls. Steve Lawson woke to the sound of his alarm, the numbers on the clock read 6:30 a.m.  Rising to sit at the edge of his bed, he started to think about the endless meetings that were about to control his entire day. But thoughts of work were soon pushed aside as he looked over his shoulder to see an angel lying on her side.  Steve lay back down and kissed his sleeping wife, Josie, on the forehead. Good morning love!

Is it that time already? she whispered half awake.

The sound of thumping caused Josie to raise an eyebrow as she looked towards the door. Ok, I guess it’s time to get the little ones dressed and ready to go. Or I can just call Nanny to do all the work? 

Josie gave him a soft punch on the shoulder, Leave my mother out of this and don’t be in such a rush to get rid of the children. You know you’ll miss them. Laughing, he left the bedroom and walked towards the children’s rooms. Upon entering the girl’s room, he found his three children jumping on the bed giggling.

Good Morning Daddy, shouted Kathy his oldest at eleven. Next to her was Ben at nine and Angela the youngest at eight.

Daddy! Daddy! You missed it! Angela yelled as she ran over to him.

What did I miss? he asked, picking her up.

Out of breath, Angela tried to tell what they were doing. Ben was seeing how high……he could jump…..when he fell off.

So that’s what I heard earlier? He cocks his head as he turns.

I didn’t fall…..she pushed me, Ben cried out, sticking his tongue out at her.

I told him to stop jumping on my bed, Angela argued.

"And I am telling both of you…now…stop jumping on the bed!

Yes, they both responded.

Putting Angela down, Now brush your teeth and come downstairs for breakfast when you’re done.

Ah, man, Ben sighed.

Yeah, yeah, I know. Daddy always has to ruin the fun, ruffling Ben’s hair as he passed to exit the bedroom. Steve found himself more excited than the kids. Not only because the kids were leaving for two weeks, but because tonight was the start of his vacation; a vacation which would finally allow him to spend some quality time with Josie. 

Entering the kitchen he turned on the coffee pot and started breakfast. Steve prepared breakfast for Josie, which he planned to serve in bed. He only took his wife breakfast in bed on very special occasions; the last time she got breakfast in bed was a year ago for their eleventh marriage anniversary.

He peeked over his shoulder at the kids and saw them inhaling their food. Since you guys have all that extra energy, bring your bags to the car, and you can watch some TV while I take mommy her breakfast and get ready.

As Steve walked back to the bedroom, he could only think of the private jet that would fly him and Josie out to Puerto Rico.

Wake up Madam. Zee chef is here with your delicious breakfast, Steve said in a cheesy French accent as he approached the bed.

Struggling to sit up on the bed, Oh Honey, you shouldn’t have, she said pulling the sheets over her legs.

Yes you’re so right, I should have fixed this magnificent meal for myself, he said and turned around to leave the room. She responded by throwing a pillow at him, prompting him to return.

Returning with her tray, he gave her a kiss on the forehead and then stepped into their bathroom. He began getting dressed.

Steve had worked his way up the corporate ladder and made it to the position of lead financial manager for Global Trust International Bank. The bank had decided to expand into Turkey and Germany, and he had to work massive amounts of overtime in the past few months. This meeting was the bank’s key project because it was going to save the company millions and open up new opportunities.

A series of knocks came from the bedroom door. Dad it’s time to go! Angela called.

We’ll be downstairs in five minutes. Make sure everyone has gone to the bathroom. He responded.

At the front door, the kids gave their mom a big hug and hopped into the car, their excitement at going to camp clearly showing. Receiving his goodbye kiss, Steve walked to the car, turning to see Josie watch him descend the walkway. He started the car and popped in the kids' favorite CD.  They exited the driveway of their home and headed for the campground.

۞۞۞۞

11:30 AM Eastern

It remained a typical bright and beautiful day near the Turkey Point nuclear power plant, and for Sara Brent and her friend Amanda, it was just another day at the office.

So what’s it going to be today, burgers, salads, or subs? Amanda asked Sara as they exited the building for lunch.

I’m not sure; I lost my appetite after talking to that short snob! I think I’m just going to grab a hotdog and a bag of chips from the street vendor. I figure with a day like this why not enjoy it.

Tell me what he has done to you now?

"You mean what he hasn’t done. For starters he keeps bugging me, asking if I finished running those system checks that he wanted me to do. It's done, but it’s more fun to watch the little insect suffer a bit. Seriously, we just ran one last month, and you don't need to run them more than every six months. He knows I have the qualifications to run this plant with my eyes closed but instead he has me following him around doing menial tasks.

Or maybe it’s because you’re a woman, and he feels threatened? Amanda wondered.

Or maybe it’s because he’s a JACKASS, Sara says snickering.

Wow! He must be getting under your skin?

You have no idea. You know what? Maybe we should transfer departments?

The idea is tempting, but everyone else we work with is cool, Amanda replied. It's just him; he’s always in a bad mood and has that weird expression on his face like a bulldog is constantly biting his ass!

Laughing uncontrollably, Tell me how you feel, Amanda.

Well, you started it.

Her laughing was cut short as the vendor asks Sara if she needed help, Yes, I would like to have a hot dog and a bag of chips please.

She would also like to have chili and cheese on that as well, she’s having a bad day, Amanda interrupted. Oh, I will have the same thing, and I will be paying for both.

Amanda you don’t have to do that.

It’s nothing; what’s it going to be? Five dollars at the most. And it’s my way of sucking up to you.

Sucking up to me for what? replies Sara quizzically

Amanda smiled as she walked to a nearby bench.

Suck up to me for what? Sara curiously asked again.

Well apparently someone saw you talking to Mark early today and according to them, he was flirting with you. Now, what that’s all about?

Who told you that?

Don’t worry about who told me, just tell me what you guys talked about.

Well you know when I went to drop off our time sheets to Personnel Office, Mark just happen to be there.  He just asked me how my day was and of course, I told him about Mr. Snob West.  We laughed at that for a moment, and then he asked what I was up to this weekend.

Don’t tell me he asked you out! Amanda says excitedly.

Nooo, he did not ask me out.

Did you, at least, ask him out?

Nooo, I did not ask him out.

Girl he apparently asked what you’re doing because he’s interested and wanted to ask you out, can’t you see?  Tell me what guy you ever dated asked what you’re doing and didn’t ask you out? If he asks what you are doing, it’s an automatic sign.

Oh my god, I totally did not see that.  I am such an idiot.  Now he probably won’t try to ask me again, Sara said tilting her head back and sighing.

You know what that means, Right? It means that you have to ask him!

There is no way I’m going to ask him out! said Sara I couldn't get myself to.

Ok fine, be single for the rest of your life. Amanda taunted looking down at her watch: 12:26. Lunch is just about over, she sighed, leaving their now comfortable seats by the fountain to head back inside.

They entered through the building’s main entrance that leads to a long corridor and reached their offices at the end. Sara you just have to do it, now that you know he likes you.  It’s up to you to make it happen.

I don’t know! Well, I can pretend to drop something off at his office later today, maybe I should ask him then.

See, there is my little go-getter! says Amanda as she headed into the ladies room, leaving Sara pondering about how to go about asking Mark out.

Sara realized that she had never been in this situation. Normally she was the one being asked on dates, not the other way around. Pulling out her pocket mirror she looked into it and gave herself a little smile. Ok, Sara, you can do this.

۞۞۞۞

In the heart of downtown, Jason Moorehouse sat nervously alone in his hotel room at the Spindall Tower Hotel, wiping beads of sweat from his forehead. He had been up all night preparing himself for a major business deal that his company had placed him in charge of securing. This was big for Jason: he was a first-year graduate from law school and his company, E-TRACE, trusted him to finish a major business deal with the Department of Defense. Their deal would give E-TRACE the exclusive rights to be the sole provider of electronic tracking devices to the US Military for the next five years. 

Nervous yet exhilarated at the thought of landing the contract; he recalled all the years of hard work that were finally going to pay off. Being a young African American made Jason feel as if he had to work harder than his competitors; to him, this deal was a means of proving blacks could work it in a predominantly white business.

With the commission for completing this deal, Jason would finally be able to start living the American Dream. He wanted nothing more than to purchase a new home for his parents, to show them how much he appreciate their love and support. Finally, the deal would allow him to propose to his college sweetheart. His watch read 1:12 pm, giving him a few hours to his meeting. With his hands resting comfortably in his pockets, he gazed out his 87th story window, getting an amazing view of the bustling city and the sparkling blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean in the distance.

The vibration of his cell phone startled him, reaching into his pocket he answered the call.  

Hello Mr. Rowsom, he answered. Mr. Rowsom was not only a board member but was CEO of E-TRACE as well.

Hello Jason, how are things…..how are you? asked the voice on the other end.

I'm fine; just putting things in order for the meeting.

That’s why I'm calling. I’m on my way to the office and want to make sure that you have everything you need to pull off this deal. 

Yes, I have everything. All I need now is the ears of those Air Force Colonels.

That’s what I like to hear. Well, I won't ramble on about what this means to E-TRACE because you already know that. Get some rest and I will see you in a little while.

See you soon. Ending his conversation with Mr. Rowsom, realizing that he had a few minutes to spare he pressed speed dial on his phone. As the phone rang, Jason thought only of how his dreams would be crushed if he failed to land the deal, when the lined picked up, just hearing her voice brought instant comfort and relief as he pushed his thoughts concerning the meeting aside and turned his full attention to his girlfriend.

۞۞۞۞

An 88˚ day in Miami at 3:40 in the afternoon is the perfect time to play basketball and in Miami Beach that was exactly the case. The Miami-Dade County Park and Recreation Department was holding their annual Miami Summer Classic Basketball Tournament at Virginia Key Beach. Spectators welcomed the cool breeze coming off the ocean as they sat in the sun watching the game. With a score of 72 to 70 and the defending champions down, everyone sat on the edge of their seats cheering their team on. It was the rising basketball star Zack Williamson that everyone was truly cheering for.   

Zack was the leading scorer for his Division I basketball team and a top draft pick for the NBA. It was Zack’s last season at the University of Cranton, rumors of him signing with the Miami’s professional team added a little more spark to the crowd’s enthusiasm. At the moment, Zack had 32 of his team 70 points, and he showed no signs of letting up. If his team planned on winning, the ball would have to stay in his hands. He could feel his stomach tensing up with anticipation. 

Time out! Time out! yelled Zack’s coach.

Hustling off the court, the team gathered at the sideline in front of the coach.

Bring it in closer, the coach said, looking around at his players. Ok gentlemen this is where you must prove yourself! Not to me, not to the people in the stands but yourselves. And if you wish to carry that trophy home, we must execute, execute, execute, he continued before drawing up a play on his clipboard.

A buzzer sounded ending the timeout, Gentleman, this is it. It’s everything or nothing! Hands in. Whatever you have left, leave it out on the court. On three. One…..Two…..Three, the team gives a loud Hoorah! and sprinted out onto the court.

With thirty seconds on the clock, the ball was inbounded to Zack. Sweat streamed down his face, his eyes clearly focused, he brought the ball down the court slowly, killing time. He put up a fist signaling one of his teammates to set up a block on his defender’s left side. 

Look at that folks; Freeman number 32 has set the perfect screen for his teammate.  Leaving him wide open for the three-pointer. A three-pointer could win the game, the announcer quickly yells over the speakers.

Zack ran around his defender and zoned in on the basket for the shot, a shot that he has nearly perfected. In his mind, nothing can cause him to miss it. With the perfect form, he prepared to shoot, setting his toes just outside the three-point line. Rising quickly, he extended his arm.

At the same time, with the scoreboard counting down the final seconds of the game, a group of spectators noticed an object flying low off the coast. It was like nothing any of them had ever seen. Slowly at first, but then more quickly, the attention of the crowd began to switch from the game to the grayish object flying just over the water and heading straight towards them. As it reached two hundred yards off shore, some spectators recognized what it was.

A C-130 Hercules has a fuselage nearly one-third the length of a football field and a wingspan that would go almost from sideline to sideline. It quickly grew larger, its four Allison turboprop engines propelling it at 329 knots. Seeming to skim the wave tops as its propellers churned the water into white foam, the growing drone of its engines added an air of menace to its approach.

The Hercules began to climb as it crossed the shoreline but it was still so low when it thundered over the court that anyone looking up could have counted the rivets on the wings. No one was looking up, however because the rumble of the engines caused the aluminum stands to rattle so much that everyone ducked into an almost fetal position to protect themselves.

Zack so focused on his shot that he never saw the plane coming, startled as he released the ball, the shot went one foot wide to the right as the buzzer sounded. Zack's coach immediately leaped up screaming for the referee to call interference and reset the clock. The officials stood looking at each other in bewilderment, wondering how to deal with such an unprecedented scenario.

The Hercules increased its altitude as the massive aircraft opened its large rear cargo doors.  Six sleek missiles shot out and veered in separate directions as their internal targeting system initiated. In the blink of an eye, the objects were out of sight, and all that remained were six gray streaks trailing into the city - two trails headed south, two west, and two north.  The Hercules, having served its purpose, continued west toward the Everglades.

۞۞۞۞

At 3:40 pm, carrying 350 passengers, AmeriSky Flight 709, a Boeing 767 jumbo, was heading due south along the coast on its way from New York City, to Miami International Airport, scheduled to land at 3:55.  Onboard, flying coach on their return from Italy was Mrs. Kimberly Steerman and her eight-year-old son, Michael. 

What do you have there? Kimberly says to Michael, who was looking down at one of his books from the trip.

My book on Rome that you bought me.

How does it feel to have finally seen the Roman Coliseum? wrapping her arm around him. As he scanned through the book looking at the many vivid pictures of ancient Roman sites, he stopped at a picture of the Coliseum.

The Coliseum was amazing!

I can’t believe that the Romans made people fight.  I can’t wait to tell the boys at school about this; they’re going to be so jealous.

Yeah I know, just make sure you don’t go starting your little gladiator matches in school.

It was the best two weeks ever.  Do you think Pop will pay for me to go there again next summer? Michael asked his mother.

Well Michael that’s something that you have to ask your father about, said Kimberly smiling down on her son. Look, Michael, there's Miami. We should be home in no time. The boy plastered his face to the window to try and see the city before it disappeared as the plane turned.

PING. A chime rang from the overhead panel as the seat belt light turned on.

This is your captain speaking. We are on our final approach to Miami International Airport. The weather in Miami is a sunny 88 degrees, and we should be at the terminal on schedule. Thank you, and we hope that you had an enjoyable and comfortable flight on board AmeriSky Flight 709. The stewardess then began her ritual speech instructing passengers to bring seatbacks and trays to their full upright and locked position and to remain in their seats with their seat belt fastened until the plane has reached the terminal and the Captain has turned the seat belt light off.

Seatbelt locked?

Michael wiggled the lock. Yup.

In the cockpit, the captain heard the tower begin its usual landing dialogue.

Rabbit 709 Heavy this is Miami Control. Come right to heading 270, descend 300, maintain 215 knots.

Air traffic controllers no longer use airline names to identify aircraft; for clarity they use unique nicknames for each carrier. AmeriSky's nickname was Rabbit. Why couldn't it be something impressive, like 'Eagle' or 'Falcon'? the captain sighed to his co-pilot. The co-pilot responded, At least it isn't 'Buzzard' or 'Cockroach.'

Miami Control this is Rabbit 709 Heavy. Roger. Turning to heading 270, descending 300, maintaining 215 knots.

The jumbo jet turned towards the airport began to descend to 300 feet in its approach for landing.

Rabbit 709 Heavy this is Miami Control. You are cleared to Runway 27L. Traffic ahead already on the ground, cleared to the taxiway. You are number one to land.

Miami Control this is Rabbit 709 Heavy. Roger. As Flight 709 made its final turns to land on the designated runway, the pilots looked out over the nose of the aircraft at the airport before them. Ahead of them lay the parallel runways 26L and 26R, one aircraft was taking off from 26R, and another was just pulling off 26L onto a taxiway. Runway 6 was not in use today, and dozens of aircraft moved along the taxiways to and from the gates. Even though the Fourth of July traffic had not yet started, planes were everywhere except runway 27 which was now empty and cleared just for them. They moved their hands across the control panels as they flipped a variety of switches and set controls with the smoothness of a musician playing some strange instrument.  They were still a few miles short of the runway when a plume of gray smoke sped across their field of view from behind and slammed into the control tower, the concussion from the impact shattered windows for hundreds of feet along the terminal. It took the pilot and copilot a few seconds to process what they had just seen.

The captain radioed, Miami Tower this is Rabbit 709 Heavy on final! Do you read?

After a few seconds of static instead of a reply, the copilot asked, Should we land?

The pilot slammed the throttles forward to full power and replied, That looked like a missile, and there might be others. If they've got incoming, the last place I want to be is on the ground in the middle of it! Get on the horn to TRACON, tell them Miami is inoperable and we are diverting to Orlando!

۞۞۞۞

The nose of the plane rapidly lifted as it regained altitude, its engines roaring, and everything feeling just like a normal take-off. Passengers and crew were looking at them wondering why they were taking off and not landing.

The intercom clicked on. Ladies and gentlemen this is the captain. Due to some unusual activity on the ground at Miami International, we are diverting to Orlando. I will let you know when we have more information.

The plane began turning to proceed to Orlando but, instead of a quick 90-degree turn to the right, the pilot decided to make a 270-degree turn to the left to head north. With the Miami tower out of commission, everyone was on visual flight rules, and he wanted a complete scan of the area for other traffic. The aircraft swept rapidly through its turn, banking sharply, and the resulting g-forces made it clear to everyone on board that this was no longer an ordinary flight. As the plane traversed its three-quarter circle, passengers on the right side and then the left had a full view of the column of fire and smoke that marked the destruction on the ground.

Michael was looking out the window when he saw another gray plume moving rapidly towards them. He grabbed his mother's hand and said, Mommy what is that?

Kimberly leaned in front of her son to see out the window.  As soon as she found the trail in the sky, she realized it was on a collision course with the plane. Her lower lip trembled, and she clutched Michael in her arms, pulling him closer to her chest. Michael felt drops on his head. I love you, Michael, she said, crying. He hugged back and said, I love you, Mommy.  Kimberly closed her eyes and began counting, waiting for the impact to happen.  1…..2…..3.....

Just before the impact, the missile changed its trajectory slightly to avoid colliding with the large object moving in its path, but as the missile passed over the fuselage, it glanced off the tail. The missile wobbled and changed direction erratically before slamming into the main concourse of the airport and detonating. Within seconds, the terminal collapsed in on itself, burying hundreds. 

Inside the airplane, the impact was no worse than a slight bit of air turbulence, but the thump of the collision further unnerved the passengers, who were already on edge. The cabin crew worked quickly and restored calm, for the most part. Feeling panic and fear brewing up inside her, Kimberly was determined to keep it together, for Michael's sake. Time seem to slow down as Kimberly looked around the cabin.  She saw that most of the passengers were holding on trying to remain calm. In front of her, flight attendants were desperately trying to calm down an elderly woman who was very agitated and insisting that she be unbuckled. .

Behind her there was a man sitting, holding a picture to his chest with both hands, tears streaming from his eyes.  Kimberly wondered what the picture showed. Her final glance fell on Michael, who was sitting quietly in his seat pretending to look calm. She could see the fear in his eyes and could only offer him a smile in an attempt to assure him that things would be all right.

When the plane had flown smoothly for a few moments with no further pitching around, passengers began to calm down and most began looking out the windows again, trying to understand what was going on. On the right side of the aircraft, some noticed the two gray plumes that were streaking into downtown Miami. One of them smashed into the side of a skyscraper, the impact blasting debris out of the opposite side of the building. The sudden movement drew every eye on that side of the plane to the building just as the second missile struck a few seconds or maybe a few minutes later - as people recalled the sight they weren't sure how long - the entire building collapsed. Gasps and screams filled the airplane as the building disintegrated into large chunks as it fell, sending a cloud of gray dust swirling into the air and racing across the ground. The passengers witnessed what was the glory of Miami evaporate before their very eyes, as the warheads crashed into the once beautiful city.

Kimberly heard people in the back of the plane pointing out how the building had fallen into other buildings, starting a domino effect of destruction.

Then, just as events in downtown Miami seemed to be ending, passengers on the right side of the plane saw a massive explosion on the horizon, creating a mushroom plume that rose 300 meters in the sky.  Passengers whispered in a disbelieving tone, Oh God! That’s the nuclear power plant in Homestead!

۞۞۞۞

Steve Lawson looked at the clock on his dashboard. Aargh! Quarter to four? Of all the days to get snagged in traffic! he grumbled. He was desperately trying to make it home, but he was thoroughly ensnared in the congestion that follows an accident, and he wasn’t making any progress. He looked around the streets and saw a hot dog stand among the many street shops. He could do without the souvenirs, but a hot dog or two could do him some justice. He had gone the entire day without lunch, and his stomach was making noises that he interpreted as a threat to eat him if he didn't feed it something.To his left, he noticed a beautiful young lady rollerblading, with her Dalmatian keeping stride beside her. Twenty-four…..twenty-six, he guesses. Her pink mini-skirt revealed long, flawless, tanned legs. He smiled and, making eye contact she, returned her with a smile and a wave. Only in Miami, he thinks to himself while removing his cell phone from the charger to call home.

Babe, I'm running a little late…..apparently there was an accident over here on Brickell Avenue by Spindall Tower…..no, it's not bad, just enough to slow traffic to a crawl…… yeah, it's bumper to .... A thunderous crash stopped him in mid-sentence. Steve glanced around for another accident - a big one - but saw instead that people were looking up and screaming. He got out of his car, his wife on the phone asking what is happening.

Steve looked up and saw that a twenty-ton construction crane was falling to the street. 

One of the missiles had buried itself in the Spindall Hotel and Tower, and as it did, it damaged one of the support legs of the crane. With the support structure compromised, the damaged leg slowly buckled: the twisting metal sounded like fingernails scraping on a chalkboard. As the crane tipped out over the street, the massive bolts that held the crane to the rooftop snapped and gravity took over, uprooting the crane from its foundation and pulling it off the side of the skyscraper. 

As it fell, the crane’s gigantic hook swung wildly in the air, battering the building and gouging out large sections of reinforced glass and steel supports. Chunks of concrete ranged from the length of a sedan to that of a mere penny. People ran in all direction trying to avoid the storm of steel, concrete and broken pieces of glass that were raining down from the building above. All anyone could see or hear were the screams of hundreds of people running for their lives as they took whatever cover they could find from the deadly debris. 

Fear and astonishment froze Steven to the spot while he tried to comprehend what was happening. With tons of twisted metal falling towards him, only the voice of his wife calling out to him over his cell phone brought him out his frozen purgatory. 

He turned and sprinted away as if his life depended on it, and it did. Seconds after making his mad dash the monstrous machinery had smashed into the earth causing everything in the vicinity to shake like a miniature earthquake. 

Covered in dust, Steven had escaped certain death.  Clutching onto his cell phone as if it possessed magical powers, he turned to see that tons of twisted metal had transformed his $120,000 vehicle into useless junk.  Hearing a low voice calling out, he slowly raised his phone to his ear to tell his wife what was happening.  Every muscle in his body seemed to twitch with nervousness.  He didn't know where to start explaining what just occurred, the fallen crane or nearly being killed.  The words dangled on his tongue but were never spoken.  Another wave of concrete and glass crashed onto the street, this time from the neighboring building. Pieces of rebar fell like javelins, impaling themselves into the sidewalk and piercing Steve Lawson’s body. He fell lifelessly to the ground. The phone fell from his hand, crashing amongst the broken glass. His unspoken words to his wife became a faint whisper in the wind, lost forever.

۞۞۞۞

Inside Spindall Tower, a forceful jolt knocked Jason Moorehouse out of his pre-meeting catnap. He crawled to his feet and looked at the time which read 3:45 pm. Disoriented, he rubbed his head while the building's emergency alarm system rang loudly around him.  Feeling woozy from bumping his head Jason stumbled to the door of his room. As he prepared to open it, he began to feel pressure in his ears as his hearing became muffled, like as though he was under 30 feet of water.  He tried to shake off what felt like vertigo, but to no avail.

It must be from hitting my head he thought.   

Jason found the hall empty of people but full of dust and debris. Pulling the collar from his t-shirt over his nose to avoid inhaling the small particles, he paused in disbelief at the huge hole in the side of the building. Sitting in the middle of the floor was a large cylindrical silver object.

I must have hit my head harder than I thought, he said to himself. I have to be seeing things. His began to doubt his grip on reality, but closer observation revealed that what he was seeing was very much real.

Holy Shit! A missile!! he said in amazement.

As he turned to run, everyone's childhood nightmare became real: he felt as though his legs were turning into lead beneath him.  His strength drained from him and was replaced by the sensation of being violently shaken. In seconds, his clothing was saturated with perspiration. 

Each step brought excruciating pain, more than any man should have to endure. Making it to the emergency stairwell seemed hopeless.  Unable to support his weight he leaned against a nearby wall, sliding along it to make his escape. Eventually, the pain became unbearable and, falling to his knees screaming; he covered his ears.  With blood starting to exit every orifice of his body, he gathered what remaining strength he had, to ignore the pain end envision his girlfriend wearing the ring he just purchased. It was to be the last thought he would know. 

Seconds after Moorehouse collapsed, the missile that had slammed into the middle of the building had finally discharged. Its emissions sent a forceful concussion blast throughout the entire floor, sending glass, concrete, metal, and office supplies hurling debris out from all sides of the building in a plume of dust. Within minutes the middle portion of the tower collapsed, bringing the weight of the upper tower down on its self.  The sheer force of the massive falling debris of steel and concrete shook the earth as it came into contact with its foundation. Crumbling like a heaping stack of jagged twisted Jenga blocks, the weight of the crashing building blew up gigantic dust clouds into the air, blotting out the sun in the process and creating a spiraling sandstorm that covered downtown. Seconds later the lights in the district began to flicker then completely go out.

Only blocks away from the collapsed Spindall Tower the second projectile struck the districts secondary energy source at the Sunshine Power Hub located on Biscayne Boulevard. Impacting the ground at nearly supersonic speeds the missile penetrated deep into the earth beneath the substation. The warhead detonated and sent a wave out from the impacts epicenter. In seconds, with a weakened foundation, the center of the station collapsed to form a crater as if the earth had opened its mouth and swallowed all that was above, taking with it towers and transformers. Without regulators to maintain its power systems an unmanageable power surge was sent cascading throughout what remained of the downtown district’s power grid, causing sporadic electrical fires and multiple outages as hardware failed under the surge.

۞۞۞۞

At 3:47 pm the Turkey Point nuclear power plant in Homestead, just south of Miami, became the last target. A blinding flash of sparks and flames erupted from the center of the building as the plant’s powerful generators exploded from the missiles' impact. There was no warning for the technicians and maintenance crews working on the huge turbines when they were engulfed in flames and superheated steam, perishing instantly. Fires ignited throughout the plant as thousands of feet of electrical cables overheated. 

The planners of the attack realized they would not be able to breach the containment domes and reach the reactors, so they targeted the generators, knowing that the power surges that resulted as they failed would overload cables and substations and take the Miami grid down for days. Choosing to remain behind in the Central Control room Sara and Amanda were doing all they could to regain control and take the plant gracefully out of the power grid.

"Warning! Warning!  Pressure loss all turbines. Output loss all turbines." flashed red on Amanda’s computer monitor.

Amanda, shouted Sara. We've gotta get out of here….it's too late for the plant! Fiercely typing away on her keyboard Amanda tried to shut down some of the facility's system to prevent an overload of the three power grids for Miami that the plant controls: the Northern Grid, the Southern Grid, and the Eastern Grid. 

SCRAM Protocol Complete. Reactor Shutdown Complete. flashed on the screen.

OK, the reactors are safe! If I can simply cancel the power to the Southern and Eastern grids then the Northern grid could be salvaged, and that would let us reroute some power from it back into the Southern and Eastern grids. This would keep downtown functioning.

Amanda we don’t have time for that, shouts Sara looking over Amanda’s shoulder at the monitor.

Southern Grid's almost down and that will prevent overload! Just a few..... seconds ...more, stated Amanda through gritted teeth.

You're talking like that’s time we have to spare, Sara replied, hearing explosions in the distance.

The initial impact of the missile had done major damage to the facility, but it was still possible to have an orderly shutdown and minimize the disruption to the power grid. However, when the missiles activated any opportunity to control the situation vanished. Power spikes flew throughout the plant cascading out into the power grid like ripples on the water. Vibrations and power surges caused the monitors in front of the girls to explode, knocking both Amanda and Sara from their chairs onto the floor. 

Stunned, Sara called to her friend, Amanda…..Amanda!

Reaching to roll Amanda over, she was shocked and grief-stricken to see that Amanda’s face had been shredded by the glass that struck her, penetrating through her eyes into her brain.  Getting up, Sara frantically ran out of the control room down a narrow corridor, towards the emergency exit. She noticed that much of the plant was already ablaze.  Smoke and the smell of burning rubber caused her to choke uncontrollably. 

The corridor floor began to rumble violently. Looking back, Sara saw a wall of flames rushing towards her, blasting doors off their hinges and blowing furniture and other materials into the corridor.  With every breath, she took her lungs burned from the skyrocketing temperatures of the inferno that were now upon her.  Overcome by heat and toxic fumes, Sara dropped to her knees and screamed as the burning gasses incinerated her flesh in seconds before engulfing what remained of the plant in its fiery grip.

Miami-Ground Zero….the bombardment had lasted nearly ten minutes, but for those that witnessed it, it seemed like an eternity.

Chapter 1

EVERGLADES KEEPS ITS OWN

June 25, Present Day

8:15 am EST

South of the Chekika campgrounds in the Florida Everglades, Arslan Nezaket awoke in his father’s private summer cabin. Made entirely of locust wood, the log cabin was a simple, thirty by forty foot rectangle with a wrap-around porch. The view from the cabin’s huge five foot by five-foot square windows was mesmerizing. The cabin sat on multiple stone columns which raised it nearly four feet off the ground's surface. A narrow dirt driveway connected to the nearest road, a good half-mile away, and led to a cobblestone parking pad.

Arslan's bedroom sat at the front of the cabin. Sunlight filtered through the soft muslin drapes, allowing a bright glow to highlight the banners on the wall that bore his father’s insignia.

Just as any other day, the young boy grabbed his green-hued cargo pants and his red and white flannel shirt and headed for the bathroom. The mirror reflected an image of an adolescent boy, his head full of curly black hair which was dark as coal.

While he moved the toothbrush across his teeth, he stopped and took his free hand to rub his chin. He tried to picture the day that he would have a thick black beard like his father. His father always told him that a beard was a sign of maturity and adulthood. He felt around for any signs of emerging hair, hoping for stubble. The only thing he could locate was a fresh pimple. Normally the pimple would have bothered him but today it did not matter, for today was a special day: it was his thirteenth birthday, and that meant today he became an adult. 

As he entered the kitchen, his thoughts centered on wondering if his father had planned anything to celebrate his birthday. Arslan smiled at the six foot, two-inch giant. This giant named Gamze failed to notice his son’s smile; he was sitting at a table drinking coffee, staring out a window that overlooked the densely overgrown forest. From his appearance alone, anyone would know that Arslan’s father was an important and powerful man. Arslan heard it said that his father’s company controlled the Turkish government, and the older he became, the more Arslan believe it. Gamze had not yet noticed his son standing in the kitchen doorway, but a slight creak in the floor notified him of Arslan's arrival. 

Good morning, my son, Gamze said, in a deep, resonant voice.

Good morning, father.

How long have you been standing there, my son? he asked a polite smile moving across his face.

Not long.

Well don’t just stand there, come here! Gamze patted the table, prompting Arslan to head towards his father. Although Arslan was tall for his age, he still felt short compared to his father.   Placing both his hands upon Arslan's shoulders, Gamze looked into his son’s eyes for a few moments before reaching back with one hand to grab something.  He presented Arslan with a cupcake adorned with a single candle at its center. Arslan could not have wished for more because he was with his father and that was enough. All the young boy could do was smile back at his father. 

Happy Birthday! Gamze cheered. Here take this. He pulled a silver object as big as his hand from under the table.

A digital camcorder! Arslan exclaimed, excitement written all over his face.

Gamze stretched out his giant palm and handed the object of Arslan's delight to him. Arslan gratefully accepted. The camcorder was already out of the box, charged and ready for action.

Yes. A video recorder, Gamze confirmed, the world is about to change before your very eyes, and you don’t want to miss it, my son! Now go and make sure it works while I take care of some business.

Yes, Sir, Arslan replied as he wrapped his arms around his father, the large smiles never leaving either one of their faces.  

With the camera in hand, Arslan did what any other thirteen year old would do after receiving a new toy; he ran outside to use it. Gamze held his smile until Arslan left the room then returning to his normal stern, authoritative look. With the snap of his fingers, three men promptly entered the room and pulled out various documents to discuss the business of the day. 

Outside, Arslan began filming the Everglades. Although this was not his permanent home, Arslan enjoyed the quietness this retreat provided; the sounds of local wildlife singing their songs soothed his spirit. Arslan was somewhat different than most young boys his age; he enjoyed the sternly structured life established by his militaristic father. Arslan felt that such structure had enabled him to enjoy the moments growing up that most young men would classify as being lonely.

A man truly develops when he is capable of being alone: it is then that he learns of himself and learns of patience, Arslan recalled his father saying.

Arslan’s father was everything to him. He was also the only family he had. Years ago his mother had been killed in a bombing that destroyed their mountain home. His father routinely spoke of how the conspirators were never brought to justice. Arslan knew that