Children of the Apocalypse: Volume 1. West Port

By D. William Manley

Most of us in this world live a survivable, if not comfortable and secure life. But what if our secure, comfortable civilization were swept away in a moment of unimaginable violence and horror, along with ninety percent of the earth's population and we found ourselves living in another one of history's darkest moments? Would we be able to muster the same tenacity, creativity and determination that motivated our ancestors to survive and continue?
Children of the Apocalypse is a story about an event that hasn't yet happened, but could at any moment. The threat of Nuclear War has lived in our darkest fears and imaginings since the world first witnessed the cataclysmic destruction and desolation that these weapons can bring.
This story pits a retired soldier, four neighborhood teenagers and a few new friends against an unimaginable environment. The world has become a place where mobs of radiation victims roam and plunder mindlessly, where the sun brings death rather than life, and the preserved food, left over from before Dooms Day, is running out fast.
The little group struggles to survive for a day, for a week and then a month, and will soon be challenged to grow food in a poisoned world without sunlight.
Civilization is seriously threatened and the world is about to become the most hostile savage and uncivilized place in all history.
With each challenge this little group become stronger, more confident and better prepared for the next. Will they be ready for the environmental upheaval that the earth is about to go through in the Nuclear Winter? Do they dare to believe in the future enough to make plans,fall in love and have families?
Will Mankind find a way to continue?

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 31, 2012
• ISBN: 9781467070010

D. William Manley

Dennis Manley spent much of the Cold War in the Strategic Air Command and the West Coast Missile Air Defense, (part of N.O.R.A.D.), in preparation for a war that never happened. He is an expert on Nuclear Strategy and the consequences that Nuclear War would have on the world we live in. He has studied electrical Engineering, Military science, Nuclear and Health Physics and Biology and served as a Combat Engineer, an Armor Officer and an Army Nurse. He has attempted to make this story as accurate as possible, based on this particular scenario. He lives in Utah and watches the planes come and go from Hill Air Force Base, and remembers the “Old Days.” He has four children and three grand children, a big yellow dog, a few cats and an adopted flock of Peacocks. He is currently working on volume II, “From The Ashes.”

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© 2012 by D. William Manley. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 03/24/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4670-7003-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4670-7002-7 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4670-7001-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2011919212

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

INTRODUCTION

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

Dedicated to: David, Julie and Laura, Kern, Marin and Gee-gee.

To my assistants, critics and Writers Block consultants, Pamela and Kirsten.

To Shelly, who said, Do it! and especially to Linda, Suzannah, Adriana and Jordan.

Thank you.

D. William Manley

INTRODUCTION

I don’t think God could have possibly given our earliest parents a better chance to succeed in this world than he did. ONE CRUMMY RULE, that’s all they had to deal with. No income taxes, no accounting standards, no speed limits or annual reviews, nothing was illegal, immoral, indecent or even fattening. There was only one tree in the entire world that they couldn’t eat from. Everything else you could possibly imagine was Fair game.

Talk about having it made… Sheesh… and wouldn’t you guess. How long did it take for them to start wondering what apples tasted like… ? One man, one woman, one rule and the rest is History!

And ever since that fateful day, Mankind has struggled against his own nature. There is a balance that has seemingly maintained itself since the beginning. As Mankind has discovered better ways to live, he has also discovered better ways to die.

The Stone age, (Circa 2.5 million B.C), was a time when people started taking control of their environment. With basic, stone tools, they could take food, clothing and shelter when and where they found it and have it when they needed it. HUNTING was born. Unfortunately, the ability to kill prey also gave us the ability to kill each other, and HOMICIDE was born along with hunting.

Then when we learned how to make Bronze, (3300 B.C.), Agriculture became much more feasible. We were able to till the Earth, plant, process and even store things and we could domesticate animals and have them available when we wanted them. We no longer had to hunt for them.

Unfortunately, we also discovered that with Bronze we could make much more serious weapons, and rather than just hunting our fellow man, if he had something we wanted, or was a problem for us, we could kill him on an industrial scale. We invented WAR.

Then along came IRON, (2000 B.C.) and we had a metal with which we could process and work other metals, and make much more effective tools. We discovered minerals and made the tools to mine and process them and a plethora of natural resources that were developed over the next 4000 years.

We also discovered that with iron we could make weapons that were stronger and sharper than the other guy’s weapons, and we invented…The Arms Race.

Since then our pursuit of technology has been propelled, not only by our need to control and dominate our environment, but also to control and dominate each other.

Fast forward to August 6th 1945 when we entered the Nuclear Age, and discovered a new servant that could literally do everything for us, including, if we told him to, kill us. It became time to either break the cycle, . . . or complete it.

The big question now is, are we going to use this newfound technology the same way we’ve used all the others? Or are we going to try something different this time? Are we no more in control of our fate than any of our ancestors were? Or are we actually… Intelligent?

What will the future be like if we use this new servant the same way we’ve used all the others?

CHAPTER 1

SATURDAY

East of Greenland over the Norwegian Sea.

Eighth Strategic Bomber Wing B 52, tail number zero-two-seven.

Anyone want another hardboiled egg? asked Williams, over the intercom. If I eat any more of these damned things I’m gonna start crappin’ hard boiled chickens. Josh Muncie, the co-pilot, looked over at Ken Casey, the pilot and laughed. Casey chuckled and shook his head.

That guy, he said. He keyed the intercom and replied, It’s a ‘freakin’ box lunch, for cryin out loud, Williams. When was the last time you went out somewhere and had a steak?

I am a junior officer in the US Air Force sir, he replied. What’s a steak?

The other two Lieutenants on the crew, Dave Fallon and John Dane, keyed their mics at the same time, It’s something they feed Captains, . . . yea, it’s Major food, they said. The intercom was silent again while everyone laughed, then Williams keyed it again.

Major Casey, he said, Fallon says you got a steak sandwich in your lunch. Is that true? Everyone started laughing again.

Major Casey replied, I got two steak sandwiches, and you don’t even get to smell them.

That’s it, replied Williams, I’m punching out. What kind of steaks do they have in… in? He paused, Where the hell are we?

Lieutenant Fallon, the navigator, answered, If I told you I’d have to kill you.

Well, you might as well, he replied, because I’m eating this last hardboiled egg, and then we’re all gonna die.

Fallon spoke up and said, The B-52, model G, has a pressurized exclusion system, expressly designed for protecting against a toxic gas environment.

Dane answered, But what about a gas attack from inside the plane?

Muncie answered, We’d have to get rid of the source of the gas. That’s what the bomb-bay doors are for. Again everyone laughed.

At that moment, a small red light began flashing and an alarm started beeping, signifying a coded message. Major Casey sat pensively for a moment, staring at the secure-com machine and watching the light flash. The unmistakable sound echoed through the upper level of the plane, and everyone went silent.

Major Casey looked at the light and said, OK. He reached up and pressed the ‘decipher’ button and the wheels spun, like the windows of a slot machine, and stopped quickly, revealing five characters. He wrote them on the palm of his glove, and then reset the machine. The windows returned to all zeros. He cleared his throat and pushed the decipher button a second time and again the wheels spun, and stopped again on the same five characters. He sat for another moment staring.

Captain Muncie, he said, you have the controls, and he crawled out of the pilot’s seat, back aft, to the safe. All was silent as everyone waited breathlessly. Major Casey spun the wheel on the safe and opened it.

A moment later, he returned to his seat with two envelopes, and gave one of them to Muncie. They both opened them and took out the small cardboard wafers. Muncie cleared his throat and said, I have wafer number two-two-one-seven-Charlie.

Major Casey replied, I have number two-two one-seven-Charlie. They are a set.

Yes, Replied Muncie, they are a set.

Captain, said Casey, I believe we should authenticate this message.

I agree, said Muncie, we should authenticate. They both broke their wafers and took out the small piece of cardboard inside, and then each, in turn, put the numbers on their cards into the keypad on the machine, and Casey pressed the Authenticate button. The numbers in the windows immediately spun to new characters, and they both compared the characters in the windows with those on their cards. Muncie gulped and said, The message authenticates.

The major looked at his card and said, I agree, the message is authentic. He then reached up and pressed the ‘decipher’ button a third time. The wheels spun again and stopped on the five characters that designated their mission.

The Major then removed another card from his envelope. The card had a list on it, and he found the character set on the list. He showed it to Captain Muncie and asked, Is this our mission Captain?

Muncie compared the characters, looked at the list and said, Yes sir. That is our mission.

Major Casey then keyed the intercom and said, Lieutenant Dane, key into your bomb-nav computer the characters, Tango, Easy, two, Delta, seven, and get me the information on our first target.

Yes sir, replied Dane, tango, easy, two, delta, seven,

Everyone, said Major Casey, we have a mission. It’s been double checked, authenticated and validated by both of us. He paused for a moment as the immense plane went into a wide turn onto its new course, South East. His voice got lower and more serious. If we don’t get recalled, or get another mission change, he said, We should be penetrating enemy air space in about thirty minutes. He heaved a deep sigh, and got even more serious.

I’ll make this short and sweet, he said. I fully expect the very best from all of you. You’re all good at what you do and I know you can all do the job. In case you’re wondering, I fully intend to deliver these weapons, without the slightest hesitation. After that I fully intend to do whatever is necessary to survive, without the slightest hesitation.

Lieutenant Dane keyed the intercom and said, Kaliningrad.

After a short silence, Muncie replied, Say again? and as Dane repeated himself, Major Casey mumbled along with him, Kaliningrad.

Muncie looked up and saw the major staring blankly.

What’s Kaliningrad? he asked.

Casey turned slowly and replied, A million people, home of the Baltic Fleet, two naval air stations, and it’s not in Russia.

Not in Russia? asked Muncie. Who are we going to war with?

Dane keyed the intercom again and said, That’s not in Russia, sir. It’s Between Latvia and Germany."

Yes, replied Casey. Apparently everyone has chosen up sides, and I’m betting that Russia has gone with the Muslim half of the world.

Williams keyed in to the conversation and said, And I guess we went with NATO and the friends of Israel?

Looks that way, replied the Major. I always wondered if it would start in the Mid-East.

After another reflective moment, the Major keyed the intercom and said, OK, pulling himself back into the moment. The first order of the day is we owe ourselves to this mission, whatever it takes. After these four weapons are delivered, we owe nothing to anyone, except ourselves. So stay with me, and I will do everything possible to see that we all survive this day, you have my word on that.

All was silent for a moment, and then Williams said, I’m with you sir.

Count on me sir, said Dane.

Me to, said Fallon, and all was silent again.

Muncie was reading the mission orders from his envelope and announced, There is a post-mission landing and assembly area we’re assigned to. These coordinates look like somewhere in the North Pacific, south of the Bearing Straight. He studied the numbers and continued, Absolutely nowhere. He continued staring at the coordinates, and then said, The Aleutian Islands? Is there a secret landing strip out there?

I certainly hope so, replied the Major, if we’re going to be looking for one.

Muncie continued reading from the combat orders, Sadanka Island, he said. The landing strip runs northwest to southeast at one hundred eighteen degrees. It is color camouflaged and has an instrument landing system on channel two forty five point three. Arriving aircraft use GPS or radio compass to approach coordinates and watch for sea lions and birds on the runway.

Did everyone hear that? asked the Major. The Aleutian Islands are going to be our new home for a while. He then released the intercom button and turned to Muncie, Sea lions? he asked.

And birds, replied Muncie.

Dear God, he muttered. He opened the intercom back up and shouted, Williams.

Here sir, he replied.

You get your toys fired up and tuned in. Once we hit enemy air space, I want updates on our electronic situation every sixty seconds. I want you to try to keep me informed of the threats as you’re dealing with them, but only to the extent that it doesn’t break your concentration. If you think we’re being targeted, or if you smell a missile site or an enemy fighter, I want to know about it less than one second after you do. We’ve done this dance before, and you know the drill.

Yes sir, replied Williams, enthusiastically.

Fallon, yelled Casey.

Yes sir, he replied.

You keep track of secondary targets and be plotting alternate courses. If we can’t hit a primary target for some reason, and have to go to plan B, I don’t want to waste time figuring out where the hell it is.

You got it sir, he replied.

Dane, said Casey.

Here sir, he replied.

Casey paused intentionally. It’s up to you, Lieutenant, he said solemnly. You tell me when you want control; you tell me when you need control. Remember that while we’re on the deck, under all the action, we’re relatively safe, and that’s where we want to stay as much as possible. Give us as much warning as you can before we climb to altitude for a drop, and play it as close as you can. People are gonna be really angry at us once we commit to this tour, and they’re gonna be willing to take all kinds of chances to get a shot at us. ‘Kamikaze’ missions will be a distinct possibility.

I will sir, he replied.

He turned to Muncie and pointed at the radarscopes. Eyes, he said. You are the eyes, Captain. I’m gonna be way too busy with terrain avoidance to watch for things. If we take damage or have a problem, I’ll fly the plane and you do the analysis and corrective actions.

Muncie nodded and said, Yes sir.

He keyed the intercom again and said, We have about twenty two minutes before we get down to Terrain Avoidance altitude and combat speed. Until then, I want everyone to do checks on your equipment. I want all the toys up and running before we approach enemy air space. I’m starting an accelerating decent.

Dane’s voice came over the intercom. Come to a new heading of one-two-one magnetic, he said. We’ll stay on that course until we’re well within enemy air space. He paused, momentarily, wondering if the Terrain Avoidance system that sounded so marvelous in theory, would actually work at five hundred miles per hour, six hundred feet above the terrain.

This will be our first terrain avoidance corridor, he said, with obvious concern in his voice. Casey eased the aircraft out of its long turn, onto the new course.

Dane announced, Our first target is four seven one miles out and we will be on target one approach on my mark. All was silent for a moment, and he said, Three, two, one, mark.

The bomb-nav computer light, on the pilot’s indicator panel, came on and several of the gauges indicated that they were now under the control of the bomb navigation system.

Major Casey threw another switch, and the terrain avoidance scope lit up with a silhouette of the horizon in front of them, and the little airplane icon showing where the bomber was. He hesitated, looked over at Muncie and said, Ready to pull the curtains?

Muncie returned his look and asked, We’re gonna be flying faster than a bad idea, low enough to pick pine cones, and you’re gonna give control of the plane to ‘Robo-Pilot’?

He turned and looked out the window at the sunshine for, what he knew, might be the last time. He heaved a long sigh, then reached up and loosened the curtain. He turned back to Muncie and replied, America has spent billions of dollars on that son of a bitch. I certainly hope he’s all the pilot they claim he is.

They were both silent for a moment, then Casey cracked a big smile and said, What the hell, do you want to live forever? and pulled the big flash curtain down over his front window.

God be with us, muttered Muncie, as he reached up and did the same.

God be with all those poor people down there, replied Casey.

After a moment, Muncie shook his head and asked, What did these people ever do to deserve this?

Without turning his head, Casey replied, And the sins of the fathers shall be visited upon the heads of the children.

Muncie looked over at Major Casey and said, That sucks!

Yup, replied Casey, nodding his head, It sure does.

SATURDAY … West Port, Utah. Aggressive is the name of the game in Soccer," he had always thought. Regardless of strategy or team work, when it comes down to three or four people kicking wildly at where they think the ball was the last time they saw it, someone is going to kick harder, wave their arms more violently and take more hits than the others, and sooner or later the ball is going to go the way she wants it to.

Linda Owens had three older brothers and was not at all uncomfortable getting wild on a soccer field without any concern over whose knee or nose she might break.

The Owens’s were exemplary kids around the neighborhood but they were very athletic and although Linda was born a princess into a family of very handsome older brothers, she got no special status when it came to physical competition and was treated like one of the guys from a very early age.

As one would expect when the ball exploded out of the crowd of kicking, squealing fifteen and sixteen year-old girls, Linda came running behind it. Sleek and feminine, she looked out of place with her hourglass figure and long dark brown hair, running and controlling the ball with all the strength, coordination and timing one would expect from a much more muscular and rugged body. It was in her genes.

Her teammate and friend was Suzannah Tate, very tall and lean for her age. Not what you would call cute, but obviously developing into a striking womanly stature. Her strawberry hair had a lot of body and was always wrapped or bound in something to control it.

She was the oldest of three kids with a frail mother and a very hard working father, who had two jobs and was always looking for projects that might make him an extra Buck.

Susanna took care of her mother and younger brother and sister and was her dad’s salvation and he treated her accordingly. She was known by the other kids around the neighborhood as the girl with all the privileges.

She was also the most responsible kid in the neighborhood. All the local parents had no qualms about having her baby sit an infant, or leaving her their keys to watch the house, feed the cats and walk the dog in their absence. As a result of babysitting, dog walking and house watching, she always had money.

Some thought it was sad that she had so much responsibility at the tender age of sixteen, but she rose to the challenge and was proud of herself. She was bright and able and her status as an unofficial adult, along with her reputation at community functions as a great cook, was her claim to fame. Her Dad made her social life a priority whenever possible and she accepted her lot in life graciously.

The third part of this team was Adriana Kirkbright. She was short and slight and looked quite immature for sixteen. Still shaped much more like a girl than a woman, she was strikingly cute, with dark brown eyes that seemed too big for her face, and long dark brown hair. She was rather self-conscious about her size and more than made up for it with extra effort and energy going into everything she did.

When everyone else was standing still, listening intently to Coach Marley, she would be bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet with her eyes darting around as if the energy in her were about to boil over. She was the fastest runner on the team and wherever the action was on the field she was either in it or slightly ahead of it waiting for the others to catch up. One of her trademarks was a ravenous appetite, (she was a big fan of Suzannah’s cooking).

The three of them streaked down the field with Linda controlling the ball and Suzannah and Adie on her flanks and slightly behind her. They moved like a synchronized team. When they approached the opposing team’s goal at a frightening speed, Linda took an exaggerated big kick at the ball and the opposing goalie leaped in the direction she thought the ball would go. Linda had intentionally missed it. In the blink of an eye Adie, who had moved in half a step behind her, kicked the ball seemingly out from under her into a low trajectory that the goalie could only watch as it sailed by several feet away from her and into the corner of the goal.

The whole thing happened in a fraction of a second and left everyone staring in surprise. Then the field exploded in cheering and all three of the girls danced and squealed in the familiar ritual that was so often repeated.

Their team won again. As they all danced and cheered each other, coach Marley, waded out onto the field from the sideline, trying to get their attention without ruining the moment. When they finally simmered down to where he could be heard in a reasonable voice, he cheered with them, congratulated them, told them when the next practice was, and, as always, asked if anyone needed a ride home.

They all said Good Bye and broke up into smaller groups or walked over to their parents and started disappearing in to the crowd as a new group was moving onto the field for the next game.

Linda, Dwayne said, as she and Adie and Suzi walked away, and they all three stopped and turned. I saw your parents aren’t here, do you have a way home?

Were going to walk over to Adie’s, she replied. My parents and brothers are gone to Centerville for Kenny’s game and I’m staying there today.

Great, he replied. I’ll see you guys at practice on Tuesday.

He stared for a moment as they walked away busily talking, giggling and making big plans for the rest of their Saturday. They reminded him so much of his own daughters when they were that age.

His own girls were married now and had families of their own. Janelle lived in Texas, was married to an engineer and had a daughter, and Laurel lived in Pennsylvania, was married to an ex-Marine and had a son and a daughter. Vikki was a nurse and was married to an Air Force Captain stationed at Nellis Air Force Base, in Nevada, and Kirsten was a flight nurse in the Air Force and was stationed in Germany. He spent a lot of time traveling and doling over them and his grand kids.

Since his wife of thirty years had died two years ago he had become terribly nostalgic and mushy. Being newly-retired, he spent most of his time with neighborhood and church activities and when Linda and Suzi, who were neighbors, had gotten involved in soccer he became a big fan.

Although he didn’t work as a nurse any more, he kept his license current so that he could volunteer as the medic at the Saturday games, and then when they advertised for coaches he jumped at the chance. It was very therapeutic for him and their parents were happy to have the involvement of someone they knew and trusted.

He collected up the equipment and went back to the parking lot to his truck and started home. As he pulled out on to the road he saw the three girls going into the gymnasium and honked at them. They smiled and waved as he pulled out into the street.

He had bought a new pick-up truck when his wife died, a big red flashy one with front and back seats that he could use for new activities he would get into with his kids and grandkids. Hopefully, that would distract him from missing her so very much. It was fun to drive and he thought that she would have liked it. Maybe I should have bought it when she was alive, he thought.

Then his thoughts turned to the auto race that afternoon. He was rather hurrying home to get settled in front of the TV with a drink and a sandwich before it started.

As he pulled into the driveway he saw Jordan, a sixteen-year-old boy who lived across the street, sitting on his front porch, obviously waiting for him. He pulled the truck into the garage and got out as Jordan walked up to him.

Jordan Nelson was rather tall and lanky. He was at that stage of development where none of his body parts seemed to fit each other. He was terribly tall and lean and had broad shoulders that made his shirt look like it was hanging on a coat rack rather than someone’s body. His disproportionally long legs made his big feet look like part of a costume of some kind and his long, lean neck poked out of his collar like a pole supporting his wide jaw. You could see that some day when he filled in with another 30 or 40 pounds he would be a very striking and handsome profile, but for now he looked like he was made out of spare parts.

He had a big wide grin that seemed like you could see every tooth in his head when he smiled, and neatly cut light brown hair and bright blue eyes that were piercing and reassuring. In a word he looked friendly.

Hi Dwayne, Jordan said as he approached.

Hello, replied Dwayne. What can I do for you?

I need some help with a project, he said. I want a desk for my room and my mom took me to look at some and they’re really expensive. I thought maybe you could help me make one, like the one in your office? My mom said that she would buy me the wood for it and the desk you built really looks cool. Would that be OK? he asked.

I’d love to, replied Dwayne, as he looked around at the power tools he had collected over the years. He had long been an amateur carpenter and very much enjoyed building things. He was quite flattered that Jordan wanted a desk like the one he had built.

He had adorned the house with projects from the garage and was always encouraged by his wife’s flattery whenever he finished something. Again he paused for a moment, and missed her.

Maybe we can go look at some wood later today, he said.

Great, replied Jordan with a big smile.

Gonna watch the race? Dwayne asked.

Jordan looked over at his house across the street and replied, My Parents are gone and I have to do the lawn today, but I’m gonna have it on the radio. I’ll see you later, he said, as he galloped across the street toward the open garage at his own house.

Dwayne pressed the button that closed his garage door and went into the house. He dropped his keys on the dining room table, switched on the TV and turned it to the right channel. The screen lit up with the Pre-Race show in progress and he went to the kitchen to start working on some food.

He opened the refrigerator and was trying to remember how old the different items were, when the light went out. At the same instant, the noise from the TV ceased with a distinct pop. He looked up and the kitchen light had also gone off. Rats, he thought. If I have to listen to this race on the car radio…

He went to the front door to look for signs of electricity and saw none. He stood there for a moment trying to decide what lights he could expect to see at this time of day when he noticed a distinct whiff of smoke raising from the transformer on the power pole across the street. Wow, he thought. Are we having some kind of melt down… ?

Jordan stood in the door of his garage across the street and looked at him quizzically and shrugged his shoulders. Dwayne did the same in response.

People began to come out of their front doors to see how much of the neighborhood was powerless. As they watched, the transformer on the power pole that had started to smoke suddenly began to hiss loudly and spew smoke fiercely.

Dwayne, knowing what goes on inside an oil filled transformer, jumped back into his door way. He saw Jordan step out from his garage into the driveway to see where the noise was coming from and he yelled to him with great urgency, Jordan, get back in the garage. Jordan looked at him for only a split second and quickly darted back into his garage as the large transformer exploded with a tremendous bang. It broke the windows in the adjoining houses that were facing the pole, and the top of the pole burst into a greenish blue flame, sending bright glowing embers flying in all directions.

After a moment Dwayne returned to the front door way and saw Jordan emerge slowly from the shadows inside his garage rather in shock. The remains of the transformer along with the top of the pole burned slowly. He looked across the street at Dwayne hoping for some direction and Dwayne waved him across the street. He ran quickly with his head down and his back bent slightly over as if he were expecting another explosion, being careful to avoid the still burning embers in the street.

Dwayne started trying to think… .What could drop the power all over the neighborhood, and then create a surge big enough to burn out that size of transformer… ? He muttered aloud, This doesn’t make sense.

We’ve had blackouts before, said Jordan, arriving at Dwayne’s front porch and huffing from his run across the street.

Yeah, replied Dwayne, but not with big surges like that.

The neighbors started to walk up to the power pole for a better look at the ripped open remains of the transformer. Where could surges that big come from? he thought.

As they stood there they started hearing other blasts from other parts of the neighborhood as the transformers continued exploding and they could see some of them spewing burning oil into the air.

Dwayne now started getting concerned. Something is going on, he said. About five minutes had now passed since the power went off.

He grabbed his cell phone from his pocket flipped it open and it did nothing. It had no signal. He checked to insure that the batteries were charged. He stared at it for a moment and said under his breath, This is not good.

Then they heard Jet engines roar at the Air Force Base about four miles away. It was a familiar noise that they heard often, but this time there seemed to be several at the same time. As they looked a single fighter arced up into the air and then three more followed it, then four at the same time. The roar of what sounded like many engines simultaneously continued as numerous planes took off two, three and four at a time. Several people were now out in the street being fascinated by the display of airplanes and noise as the leaders of the parade of thundering aircraft started the big loop over their neighborhood with their engines still at full power making an ear splitting level of noise and a very exciting display.

Suddenly, with a muffled distant explosion like thunder, a fireball erupted in the air off the end of the runway. Two of the aircraft had collided taking off, and as they watched in horror they saw the silhouette of a third try to miss the collision and fall out of the air and crash to the ground in another fireball.

That’s it, shouted Dwayne, fairly screaming above the roar of the planes that filled the air.

He turned to go into the house and Jordan shouted behind him, How about the truck radio? Maybe, if it’s working we can find out what’s going on. Dwayne turned and looked at him for a second acknowledging what he had said and started for the truck, then felt his pants pockets and realized his keys were in the house.

He turned and darted back through the front door and ran down the hall to the kitchen with Jordan following closely behind.

They had both just stepped onto the kitchen facing away from the east side of the house and Dwayne reached for his keys on the counter, when everything lit up in a molten white bright flash. It was as if the walls of the Kitchen had burst into blinding bright flames. The windows had what seemed like brilliant rivers of light streaming into the room and flooding it with brightness. Their eyes were quickly overcome as everything disappeared into a sea of white hot brilliance.

Dwayne shouted, Cover your eyes, and he slapped his hands over his face and bent over towards the floor with both hands held tightly over his eyes. Jordan quickly did the same thing pinching his eyes closed as hard as possible and pressing his hands over his eye sockets.

They both froze in that position and watched the gray images of the bones in their fingers displayed against a bright orange and pink background glow for four or five seconds, then slowly fade into the usual darkness of tightly closed eyes. Jordan yelled, Can I open them now? still surrounded by the roar from the low flying planes.

Dwayne yelled back, Very slowly. They separated their fingers and peered out through squinted eyelids.

Both were thoroughly flash blinded. They saw only vague shapes where they expected to see detailed faces and images of each other. They stared for a few seconds and then heard one of the airplanes get closer and closer until the engine noise ended in a deafening explosion. One of them had crashed close by.

Dwayne grabbed Jordan by the shirt and walked bent over feeling his way to the stairway at the edge of the Kitchen and slowly down the stairs feeling their way along the walls. At the bottom of the stairs they crossed the big room and went down the hallway to the Shelter at the far corner of the basement.

Dwayne opened his eyes as wide as he could and realized that his vision was coming back very slowly. The images he saw were noticeably more distinct than when he was up in the kitchen.

He pulled Jordan over to the door, put his hands on the big handle and shouted, Pull, and the two of them pulled the heavy steel door open and fell inside, turning and closing it behind them.

Dwayne dropped the large latch and shut out a noticeable amount of the noise just as another loud crash filled the air.

In the pitch darkness Jordan relaxed to some degree and started rubbing his eyes. He started to say something about his eyes and got out only the first syllable when the entire room lurched violently and both of them were overcome by a wave of shock and noise that literally sucked the breath out of them. Jordan screamed, but couldn’t hear his voice. The noise and shock wave rolled over them in about five or six seconds and started abating.

As they regained their balance and bearings Dwayne squeezed Jordan’s shoulder and said, Hang on, it’ll be back. Jordan waited with baited breath for ten or fifteen seconds and started to say something but again was interrupted by the wave of deafening noise as it rolled back in the other direction. This time it sounded more like a terrible wind, a loud moaning noise punctuated with the sounds of ripping and crashing of things. Again it passed in ten or twelve seconds without the terrible lurch this time, then everything slowly returned to silence.

They sat tensely waiting for something else to happen for about half a minute, and then started to relax.

The noise of the airplanes was gone. Dwayne broke the silence asking, "Is