Nuclear summer, p.13
Nuclear Summer, page 13
“I know. If we allow the Muslim Brotherhood in, we females may very well be living like what I saw in Afghanistan. To them, women are subhuman, something for their sexual entertainment and to do all the work.”
Sammie turned and leaned her back against the wall, observing the rest waking and becoming active. “I would kill for a cup of the colonel’s coffee.”
“There is a Starbucks down the road a piece. I’ll be right back.”
She and Sammie laughed at the thought. “Hanna, your cognitive decline is worse than I thought. On second thought, I seem to recall the place. Let’s go.”
One of the soldiers looking down into the Colorado River spotted them coming, two F-18 jets screaming just above the river toward the bridge and the dam. “Here they come,” he shouted.
It took a moment for the others to realize whom, what, or where, but they knew he meant the enemy. “They are in the canyon and headed this way.” Seconds later, the two jets screamed beneath the bridge and passed directly over the dam where they pulled up sharply. They climbed just enough to clear the canyon walls and turned left, screaming over Boulder City and south into the Eldorado Canyon along Highway 95. They circled left over the dry lakebed, ascended, and disappeared east into Arizona.
Those having binoculars frantically scanned the sky for the sight of the planes returning. Sergeant Griffin announced, “Recon flight. They are gone. It means the bad boys are near.”
“I bet the teams at the Boulder City airport and the lakebed pooped their pants when those planes came in from out of the blue,” Sergeant Porter added.
No one knew whether to expect a convoy or airlift. Thanks to the planes, they now knew to expect someone. Some focused their binoculars west on the roads coming from Kingman and others the Eldorado Valley from Searchlight to the south. Twenty minutes later, they knew.
“Planes,” one of the lookouts called out. “Very low, very slow, and in the valley.”
“C-130s,” Sergeant Porter announced. “Three of them — on the deck — following the highway.”
“They are sitting down on the lakebed,” Sergeant Griffin observed. “I do not see any Stingers. The lake team is allowing them to land.”
From the bridge, the soldiers watched the huge, four-engine, high-wing, aft cargo door aircraft touch down. They landed one after another, on the dry lakebed and rolled over half a mile in an assault landing, raising massive trails of turbulent dust before coming to a stop on the lakebed almost a mile from the Stinger missile team. The propellers continued spinning.
The soldiers watched with interest when the rear ramps extended from the plane and the human discharge that followed. At the lead plane, fifteen armed men rushed out of the plane and assumed defensive positions. Moments later, the first of three Humvees slowly drove down the ramp. The ramp returned to its closed position, and the plane began moving, circling into takeoff position.
At the same time, unloading occurred at the other two planes; in their case, the humans appeared unarmed and dressed in typical Muslim attire. Instead of Humvees, two Air Force deuce and a half trucks emerged from each plane, each of the four trucks heavily loaded with boxes. The civilians loaded into the rear of the trucks on top of the cargo while the other two C-120s closed their ramps and likewise prepared to take off. Within minutes, the loaded trucks lined up behind the Humvees to form a convoy headed to drive onto the paved road into Boulder City.
Sammie lowered her binoculars and exchanged looks with Sergeant Griffin. She slightly raised one eyebrow to invite comment.
“Occupation team,” he observed. “The armed guys are security, and the rest are most likely electricians and such to work on the dam. They have no heavy weapons, and those deuces are loaded with supplies. These boys came to stay.”
Sammie smirked, “We will be the judge of that. Assemble the officers and NCOs.” She continued watching the approaching convoy until everyone assembled.
“Alright, listen up,” Sammie said to those standing before her. “What you are about to witness is classified — very classified. The less you and the troops know will make you safer if captured and interrogated. Nonetheless, you need to know what to expect so that no one will fuck it up.”
She glanced toward the grizzly to indicate her referring to it. “Our intent will not be to kill unless necessary. The enemy will never know we are here.” This time she glanced toward the massive electrical towers and transmission lines. “Let’s just say that we will activate those electric lines to cause discomfort to the enemy. These are not the brightest of the bright, so they will leave here thinking the dam is inaccessible because of the electric lines. Our objective is to deny them entry and hope they survive to tell their tale to those sending them here.”
“Not the brightest of the bright,” Griffin laughed when the others left. “Blaming it on the power lines made it one cockamamie story, Capt’m. What scares me is that our people believed it.”
“I do not think that they believed it for a second. They live by the need-to-know code. Let’s fire up the grizzly. We have a bit of cooking to do.”
The advancing convoy soon disappeared behind the mountains near the junction where Highway 95 turned left to head into Las Vegas and where Highway 93 continued east into Arizona. It did not reappear until passing the ORP to descend into the canyon and onto the dam.
The convoy appeared into view only occasionally as it slowly descended the switchbacks to the dam. The convoy stopped at the entrance onto the dam where the Jihadist soldiers dismounted their vehicles and spread, taking a combat stance while slowly advancing across the dam. They warily watched for danger from the visitors’ center, passing it to advance toward the elevators, stairwells — and the electricity transmissions overhead. Sammie turned the rheostat from mild to medium.
The discomfort to the Jihadists appeared instantly. Like the first battle at the dam, those in the beam felt an intense burning sensation on their skin. Those in the lead stopped and stepped back after seeing those behind them unaffected. Sammie turned down the power.
Once again, the one on point advanced and again felt the heat, this time a bit more intense. He cried out and yanked his turban off. When that did not provide relief, he ran back to the others. They all looked confused now, most yet to experience the effect of the grizzly. They looked around them for the cause and finally looked up and saw the power lines.
Sammie laughed and remarked to Griffin. “Just like the first time. Which one do you think will try it next?”
“Look,” he said. “I think we may have a runner.” Sure enough, one of the Jihadists made a dashing attempt to get past the electric lines. Again, Sammie cranked up the power enough that the rays, like a microwave, heated the moisture in the man’s skin, sending him screaming back to the others.
“Conference time, boys,” Sammie said mockingly to Griffin. The Jihadists continued looking up at the transmission lines and conferring among themselves. As Sammie predicted, the Jihadists returned to the civilians and began conferring with them. Griffin said, “They are talking to their electricians now. I bet one of them checks it out.”
“No bet. You are right. The engineers want to test the waters. We’ll burn his balls and put a stop to this.”
The civilian approached slowly, his gaze glued to the transmission lines for signs of anything to explain what the Jihadists were feeling. He stopped just before crossing the shadow of the first line. He looked at the shadow and then up at the line. He finally got the nerve to step across the shadow, and Sammie zapped him hard enough that he screamed while jumping back.
Again, the Jihadists retreated from the transmission lines. From the bridge, Sammie and the others watched as they gestured, pointed, and jabbered among themselves while trying to figure what was blocking them from the dam’s entry.
“Look, Capt’m. They are pushing one of the Humvees toward the transmission lines.”
“This should be interesting.” Sammie raised the switch guard and activated the sonic weapon.
The Jihadists cautiously pushed the vehicle to the shadow, stopping briefly before pushing it a few inches across. Sammie increased the power of the ray gun, instantly causing the radiator water to heat to a boil. A bit more and it began to steam. The Jihadists counted down and in a unified effort shoved the vehicle to roll it through the transmission line shadows on the ground.
“Stand back, fellows, we are sending a message to Allah,” Sammie said under her breath while turning up the power to both the ray and the sonic gun. The vehicle began vibrating violently from the sonic oscillations. She waited until the Jihadists had moved a safe distance before turning both to full power. The heated fuel in the fuel tank exploded at almost the same time as the ordnance aboard began blowing from the sonic effects. A large plume of smoke rose into the air, and on the bridge, they heard the ammunition exploding.
Sammie and the others watched the Jihadists retreat up the road out of the canyon and thirty minutes later saw the convoy passing the dry lake bed as they headed back to Arizona. “Load’m up, men. Let’s go home,” she said.
It took an hour to round up the demolition and stinger missile teams, making it almost 1400 hours before the convoy arrived back at base camp. Arriving there, they parked the vehicles beneath the building overhang at the emergency room loading area and were covering them with camouflage nets when Major Kellahan rushed out to welcome them home and for an account of what had happened.
Sammie saluted him and said, “Sir, I would like to debrief the detail before releasing them. We missed lunch, so I suggest we do it in the mess.”
In the cafeteria dining room, Sammie gathered everyone out of earshot from any civilians. She congratulated them on a job well done and then broached the purpose of her wanting to debrief them. “You witnessed things today that we deliberately prevented your knowing the details. What I want you to take from this is that we used nonlethal means to disperse the enemy. You will not speculate how we did it as that is classified. Nor will you discuss what you saw today. All you know is what you saw — that being the electricity transmission lines causing discomfort to the enemy. That said, you must protect our weapon at all costs to prevent it getting into enemy control. Questions?”
She dismissed the troops to finish their lunch and retired to Kellahan’s office where she fully briefed him on the mission.
“Sir, Lieutenant Riley’s detail discovered something pretty significant at their location,” Sammie said at the conclusion of her debrief.
“Oh?”
“They took up a position at an old gold mine. One the team noticed what he identified as a putrid odor coming from the mineshaft. He recognized it immediately. The mine is a breeding den for rattlesnakes. They threw a rock down the shaft and heard a rattler respond.”
“That makes sense. Those old mine shafts and drifts are probably full of snakes, rats, and no telling what. The mine most likely has water in the bottom, and it certainly protected them from the radiation and freezing temperatures. The reptiles, rodents, and insects have probably balanced out where they form a complete food chain. The rats eat the insects, the snakes eat the rats, and the insects eat the snake and rat poop.”
“Yuk. Sounds like our MREs.” She thought about it a bit and said, “You know, Major. Finding that there is more life out there than our leopards and pigeons is comforting. There is no telling what all survived by living underground in the old mines.”
“Speaking of underground,” Kellahan said, “the Colonel thinks you should return the grizzly to the mountain. You can have your sergeant back when I finish with him. I agree with your dad. Ray, you, and this weapon are essential to our survival. We know that we can depend on its rapid deployment and that it is dangerous leaving it on the battlefield. Pack your things and move back to the mountain.”
North Pacific Ocean Same Time
When the nuclear bombs rained down on the West Coast, they generated massive firestorms that after four years continued to spread. City structures continued burning from San Diego to Seattle with the dead forests in-between burning out of control. The Brea tar pits could conceivably burn for eternity.
All this time, firestorms like this worldwide continuously injected smoke, ash, radiated bomb particles into the atmosphere. This, plus the damage to the ozone layer, drastically altered the planet’s weather patterns.
The jet stream seemed lost, influenced and whipping around at the whim of the crazy planet below. The easterly trade winds had reversed direction and grown weaker. The warm Pacific Ocean was now stationary with increased water temperature. A high air surface pressure in the western Pacific had spread warm water from the West Pacific and the Indian Ocean into the East Pacific. This, after 18 months, had influenced a condition known as an El Niño episode, heading a long, extensive, cold, windy, and wet El Niño toward the West Coast of California and the Mojave Desert of Nevada.
Starting decades ago, the torque of planetary vorticity and vertical friction had formed a vortex in the North Pacific Ocean gyre that collected discarded trash and lost items from all over the planet. Known as the Great Pacific garbage patch, this collection of marine pollution had grown to the size of the state of Texas.
Trapped in the vortex, the tiny, made in Japan, plastic ducky had bobbed beside a wooden pallet for over five years. During the last two bobs, it had also moved slightly eastward, following the pallet also moving ever so slightly. A long-lost box container followed suit, also moving somewhat in harmony with the pallet and ducky.
Suspended beneath them, micro-size particles of plastic and polymers likewise began to move, carrying with them anything floating on the surface. The movement spread, influenced by a change in the wind curl. Affected by the global change in weather since the bombs, the massive, decades-old sea of pollution finally sought a new location to collect as it followed a current ocean change. The plastic polluted waters with its microbial degradation and bacteria headed for the San Diego Bay’s marine microbial ecosystem in California. The El Nino winds would expedite the move.
The next morning
Jack Dawson beamed with excitement and satisfaction when Sarge, followed by Colonel Bradley entered the War Room, the colonel carrying his usual mug of coffee retrieved from the mess following his breakfast. A new MacBook Air computer sat on the colonel’s desk that he noticed the first thing and checked out before visiting the radio room as he usually did — hoping for a new report from the radio operator.
“Jack, I assume that this indicates your detail to Mount Charleston yesterday being successful.”
Pride showed in his voice as he reported to Bradley. “Yes, sir. The installation went without a hitch, and we set Major Kellahan up a while after the battle. Captain Bronson and her detail accompanied us home with the grizzly.”
Bradley sat down at his desk and arranged the position of his computer to his liking. He scooted over a bit to allow Jack to pull over a chair and sat down beside him to walk him through the procedure to contact Kellahan. Almost instantly, Kellahan’s face appeared on the screen. In the background, two soldiers were busily cleaning up the broken glass and damaged consoles from yesterday’s attack.
“Who would have thunk it,” Bradley said in greeting.
“Hell, Colonel. With this, we can put away the bonfires and blankets, and stop sending smoke signals.”
“I assume from what we saw on the monitors here that you suffered no casualties yesterday. On that accord, tell your people that I am extremely pleased with the engagement’s outcome. We are not receiving radio traffic, which I hope is an indication of the Brotherhood receiving the message that they are not welcome. Any clues about the occupants of the Hercules?” He asked, referring to the C-130.
“Negative, sir. However, Sergeant Griffin’s detail may have shed some light on what interested the Brotherhood concerning the dam. The retrieved documentation reveals the Brotherhood planning to use the electric power turbines to power the pumps to divert water from the Colorado River to the Gila Bend district for irrigation. This concentration on agriculture suggests the Muslim Brotherhood settling in that region and needing to control the Colorado River to support their water needs for irrigation.”
“This makes sense,” Bradley mused. He reached to change the computer screen tilt for better viewing. He frowned. “I wonder how they plan to protect their people when the storms return. Wasn’t that a major cotton growing area before the EMP? I seem to recall there being mega-corporate farms there.”
“Not only cotton, sir. It is Gila Bend, nicknamed the Crossroads of the Southwest, a flat area heavily populated before the EMP with dairy cattle and fish farms. Without water imported through canals from the Colorado River, it is nothing but desert. Frankly, I think the ragheads are pissing in the wind. I cannot imagine them being able to protect a valley full of farmers from the winter and storms between. Besides, the seasons are too short now for large-scale farms to feed a new settlement.”
While they talked, Bradley watched on the screen the soldiers occasionally appearing in camera view while clearing the damage done to the tower’s control room.
He said, “Major, sitting in that tower makes you a natural target for attack. I suggest you relocate.”
“Yes, sir. It does, however, we need the view offered by the tower. Otherwise, I have moved everything else off the base for this very reason.”
“Why? View of what? I am not critical of you because I too approved the idea of using the base at the time. Why are we concentrating on utilizing an air base when there is no longer anything but enemy planes flying in our area? Any planes that we might need will be small planes that can land anywhere.”
“I see your point, sir,” he replied. “I suppose the air base symbolizes power to us — a power that we no longer need.”
“Dick, I understand Nellis AFB still has a huge munitions storage facility. Give some thought of using munitions to destroy any landing strips where a large military plane might land. This includes the highways within your zone of defense. This way, we can still use the infrastructure and needed assets as we would any other source in the area. Concentrate on defending our people and not some iconic piece of history.”
