by Dan Stratman
Chapter Thirty-Five
Dangling by her left arm, she bounced off the silo wall. “Don’t let go!” she yelled.
“I’ve got you!”
Cyndi thrashed around trying to gain a foothold on anything projecting from the smooth silo wall.
Her weight threatened to pull Lance out of the opening and plunge both to their deaths. He braced his feet against the sides of the opening and sat up. Lance reached down and grabbed Cyndi’s wrist with both hands.
She reached up and clamped on to his arm with her free hand. Her sweaty palm made it hard to get a firm grasp.
Lance looked down at the surreal scene. Cyndi was swaying in and out of the fog. The top half of a thermonuclear missile, that may or may not ignite at any moment, loomed a few feet away. And a bloodthirsty Special Forces commander was getting closer by the second.
Lance had joined the Air Force for the adventure, but this was a bit much.
“Swing me over to the cable!” Cyndi yelled. “I’m going to hook it with my foot!”
Lance swung Cyndi back and forth like the pendulum in a grandfather clock. She looked over at the cable visible above the fog to help gauge her distance from it. On the third swing she decided she was getting close. Cyndi kicked her right leg out to the side as far as she could.
The inside of her ankle snagged the thick cable. “I got it!” Cyndi dragged the cable along the wall with her foot as she returned to the center of the arc.
Lance stopped swinging her and breathed a sigh of relief.
She released her grip on Lance’s wrist with her right hand and snatched the cable. “When I say, let go of my left arm.”
“Roger that.”
Cyndi took a deep, calming breath. She looked up at Lance for encouragement before committing to the perilous next step.
His deep brown eyes were gazing down at her. “You can do this. If you can handle teaching judo to a bunch of bratty little kids, this will be a piece of cake.” He looked back over his shoulder then turned back. “Don’t forget to swing the cable over to me when you get to the bottom.”
“Rocko will be slobbering all over you very soon.” She winked. “You have my word.” Cyndi took a deep breath then said, “Now!”
Lance let go.
Cyndi disappeared into the fog as she swung away.
The rubber sheath on the outside of the cable had become slippery from the damp fog. Before Cyndi could grab hold with her other hand, she began to drop. She latched on to the cable with both hands and gripped it with all her might. It did little good. She plunged down the side of the silo, clasping the slick cable.
Suddenly, her body jerked to a stop. Her hands had slammed into the metal receptacle at the end of the cable. Excruciating pain radiated up through her arms. Her cries were swallowed up by the fog. The natural reaction would have been to let go of the cable to stop the agony. Cyndi gritted her teeth and forced herself to hold on.
Suspended in the fog, Cyndi had no idea how far she’d fallen.
“Hurry, Pierce is getting closer,” Lance yelled out from above.
Cyndi might have been the combat commander in the LCC, but gravity was calling the shots now. She bent her knees slightly to help absorb the impact.
Then she let go.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Cyndi landed on a steel grate five feet below the end of the umbilical cable. She straightened up and looked around. A catwalk encircled the bottom of the silo. When Cyndi turned around, her mouth dropped open. She was three feet away from the bell-shaped exhaust nozzle protruding from the bottom of the missile’s first stage. She reached out and tapped it with her knuckle. It gave off a solid thud.
If the missile had lit off, the searing exhaust blasting out of the nozzle would be powerful enough to launch the massive missile into space at over 15,000 miles per hour.
She grabbed the catwalk railing and tilted her gaze upward. Sixty feet above, obscured by the thick fog, was the business end of the Minuteman. She shivered at the thought that ten live nuclear warheads were sitting right above her with no one controlling them.
Cyndi’s hands slipped slightly on the railing. She pulled them away and looked down. Blood dripped from both hands where the sharp edges of the receptacle had sliced into her flesh.
“Are you okay?” Lance yelled out from above.
She wiped her hands on her flight suit. “I’m good. It’s only a five-foot drop.”
“Swing the cable over. Pierce is getting closer.”
Cyndi grabbed the bloody receptacle and slid the cable along the silo wall.
“Got it!” Lance said.
“It’s slippery. Grab the cable with both hands and wrap your legs around it. You’ll know when you reach the bottom. There’s an attachment receptacle at the end.”
BAM! BAM!
Shots rang out from above.
The cable swung away.
“Lance!”
Cyndi turned an ear upward.
He didn’t respond.
She cautiously crept over to the same spot she’d dropped onto the catwalk and looked up.
The end of the cable swung back and forth.
“Lance! Are you—”
Suddenly, bullets ricocheted off the metal grate.
Cyndi turned and sprinted along the catwalk, dodging to avoid the projectiles.
Gunshots reverberated off the silo walls, making it impossible to track where the shots were coming from. Being trapped inside a dense fog only made the situation worse.
Cyndi squinted, trying to see through the fog while she ran. As she looked back, Cyndi slammed into something, sending her crashing to the metal grate. The abrupt impact had left her dazed and lying flat on her back. Cyndi blinked rapidly and shook her head, trying to regain her senses.
A large figure loomed over her in the mist.
He extended his right arm and pointed it at her.
Cyndi launched her left foot upward, aiming for his kidney.
He snatched her foot, twisted it, and knelt into the back of her knee joint.
Cyndi rolled over to prevent her ankle from snapping.
Her right foot swung across in an arc, striking him in the head. His grip loosened.
Cyndi yanked her foot away and jumped up into the defensive position.
Lance was standing on the catwalk, holding the side of his head.
“At ease, killer. It’s just me,” he groaned.
“You scared the crap out of me,” Cyndi shot back. “Why didn’t you say something?”
He put one finger up to his lips and looked back over his shoulder. Whispering, he said, “In case you forgot, a psycho assassin is coming for us. He can’t see us, but he sure as hell can hear us. Let’s not make it any easier for him.” Lance rolled his head in circles to help shake off the painful foot strike. “I slid down the cable just before he grabbed me. Then I ran like hell.”
Cyndi gently laid her hand on his temple. “Sorry I kicked you in the head. I thought you were Pierce.”
Lance winced at her touch. “The way today is going, a concussion is the least of my worries.” He reached up and moved her hand away. Lance felt a warm liquid on his palm. He turned it over and gasped. “You cracked my skull open!”
Cyndi raised both of her bloody hands. “It’s not you; it’s me.”
A shot rang out.
A 9 mm slug slammed into the silo wall behind them, sending concrete chips flying.
They crouched down to minimize their profile.
“Pierce is tall enough to reach the cable,” Cyndi said quietly. “It won’t be long before he figures out how to get down here.”
“We’re trapped. All we’ve done is delay the inevitable.” Lance looked around, desperately searching for a way to escape their impending demise. He looked up in awe. “Jesus…” His heart was in his throat.
He was one of the few people on earth who could launch a nuclear missile. But security restrictions had never allowed him to be anywhere near one after being lo
aded with live warheads.
Standing next to a fully loaded and armed Minuteman IV missile sent a chill down his spine.
Years of training, testing, evaluations, and practice launches at a REACT console simulator had always lacked something. There was an undeniable disconnect. It wasn’t “real.” Training didn’t cause the end of civilization. Practice launches didn’t kill millions.
Missileers went to sleep each night comforted by the knowledge that the doctrine of mutually assured destruction had worked so far, and that each side had far too much to lose by starting a nuclear fist fight.
The passing of time had proved the strategy to be legitimate, despite the harsh realities underpinning it.
Cyndi scrutinized the pit below the missile. She cocked her head. Her crystal-blue eyes narrowed. “I think I know a way out of here.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The concrete flame pit beneath the missile was divided down the middle by a ridge. Each half dipped down then swooped back up at the sides. The concrete ramped up to large metal doors on opposite sides of the silo, placed at the same level as the catwalk. Huge springs attached to the top of the doors pulled them up tracks mounted on the walls when the time came.
“The flames from the rocket motor are redirected up the exhaust diverter tunnels so the missile won’t destroy itself before it leaves the silo,” Cyndi said, pointing into the pit.
Lance tapped his forehead and nodded. “So, we open one of the diverter tunnel doors, climb up the shaft, and get the hell out of this nightmare.”
“Bingo,” she replied with obvious pride.
“Nice going, Commander Stafford.” Lance leaned in for a kiss.
Cyndi put her hand on his lips. “Save it until we’re topside.” She pointed to her right. “First, we have to figure out how to open the door.”
The reinforced steel door was the size of a one-car garage door and weighed half a ton.
Cyndi and Lance stayed in a low crouch as they went over to the door. They split up, looking for a way to open it.
Lance ran his hand along the bottom edge of it. He found a latch resembling a large metal claw attached to the door. Metal conduit led away from the latch and into a junction box on the wall. Conduit from the opposite door wrapped around the silo wall and entered the same junction box.
“I think I found something,” Lance whispered.
Cyndi joined him.
“See this latch? It looks like it’s spring loaded. It must be held in place by an electric coil magnet.” He tapped on the junction box. “Cut the power and the latch will retract.”
“Very impressive, Deputy Garcia,” Cyndi said, smiling broadly.
Lance grabbed the conduit leading from the door latch to the junction box and yanked. When it wouldn’t budge, he put a foot on the wall for leverage and yanked again. It stayed solidly attached to the wall.
The new silo would have been destroyed during a launch, but construction crews had built it like it was going to be reloaded and used several times.
When government money was poured into a vital project like nuclear weapons, logic rarely entered the picture.
Lance spotted a fire ax inside a red box on the wall. He scampered over to it.
The words FOR EMERGENCY USE ONLY were stenciled on the glass.
He slammed his elbow against the glass cover. It shattered, slicing his sleeve in the process. Blood seeped out of the new wounds.
Shots ricocheted off the wall next to the box. Breaking the glass had tipped off Pierce to his location.
“You two are already dead! It’s just a matter of time!” Pierce shrieked, somewhere in the fog.
His words echoed throughout the silo, making it impossible to tell if he’d discovered the umbilical cable and was creeping toward them or if he was still up in the opening.
Lance grabbed the ax and went back to the junction box. “This ought to do the trick.” He ushered Cyndi aside, raised the ax, and chopped down with all his might.
The ax blade just bounced off the box, barely nicking it.
“What the hell is this thing made of?” Lance asked with astonishment. He took a second whack at it, with the same result.
Unnerving laughter echoed off the walls.
“So that’s how you got down,” Pierce shouted from the opening. “Very resourceful. Don’t go anywhere, kids. I’ll be there in a minute.”
“Crap, he discovered the cable.” Lance quickly raised the ax over his head for another try.
Just as he was about to swing, Cyndi grabbed his wrist. “Wait!”
“Are you kidding me?” Lance shrieked. “Pierce is coming!”
He tried to pull his arm away, but Cyndi clamped down even tighter. “The last step in the prelaunch sequence is the diverter tunnel doors opening. It’s a fail-safe step built into the software. If they didn’t open, the extreme heat would cause the rocket fuel to explode before the missile ever cleared the silo. Radioactive material would be scattered for miles.”
Lance’s head drooped. He lowered the ax. “If I cut the power to the doors, they’ll open. That could be the last step the malfunctioning console was looking for to launch the missile. No wonder it kept repeating the number zero.”
“If the motor ignites, this silo becomes a raging crematorium.” Cyndi contemplated her grisly observation then shook her head. “But if we don’t open the doors, Pierce…”
“Yeah, there’s that to consider. Hell of a choice—we fry, or we die.” Lance put down the ax. He held up one hand. “Rock”—he held up the other and joined them—“meet hard place.”
Cyndi slumped back against the wall. She let out a long sigh. “I never thought I’d go out this way.” Her eyes moistened. “I pictured myself sitting on the front porch, a kid on each knee, telling them stories about my adventures as a fighter pilot.”
She swiped at her tears with both hands. The bloody streaks this created along her ivory cheeks almost looked comical.
Lance tried to wipe away the blood with the end of his sleeve, but he only smeared it even more. With resignation in his voice, Lance said, “Well, pumpkin, what’s your decision? Cut the power or take our chances with Pierce?”
Cyndi’s eyes opened wide. “What did you call me?”
“Pumpkin. Is there a problem?”
Her mother’s grating voice popped into Cyndi’s head. Don’t worry about me. You do what’s best for you.
She poked Lance in the chest. “Don’t ever call me pumpkin again.” Cyndi pushed herself away from the wall. “I’ve made my decision. Make a spare key. I’m moving in.” She embraced Lance and planted a passionate kiss on his lips. When they parted, she said, “Cut the power.”
Lance saluted. “Yes, ma’am, Captain ma’am.”
He picked up the ax.
Cyndi stood next to him as they faced the junction box.
As Lance lifted the ax over his head, he felt the cold steel of a gun barrel press against the back of his neck.
“Not so fast, lover boy.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Drop the ax, Garcia.”
Major Pierce had Cyndi’s neck in the grasp of his left hand and his Glock pressed up against Lance’s spinal column, right below the brain stem.
The ax fell to the catwalk with a loud clang.
“On your knees. Hands on your head,” he ordered.
Lance spread his feet and balled up his fists.
“Don’t even think about it,” Pierce said. He jammed the barrel into Lance’s neck even harder. “You’d be dead before either of us could blink.”
Lance raised his hands in surrender and knelt on the catwalk. He clasped his hands and rested them on top of his head.
Pierce shoved Cyndi away from Lance and pressed the gun against her temple. He spun her around and slammed her back against the wall. Rage mixed with a look of insanity burned in his eyes as he considered his next move.
Cyndi glowered at Pierce with an intensity she’d never felt before. Every fiber in h
er body burned with hatred for the man. She spat out the most crushing thing a Special Forces operator could ever hear. “You failed, Pierce!”
“Bullshit! I don’t lose. After I kill you and your pathetic boyfriend, I’m going to ride up the elevator and go back to the base. When I tell them I stopped you from launching the missile, I’ll be the hero who saved the world from Armageddon while you take the blame for this whole fiasco.”
“Hero? Don’t flatter yourself. You can lie to yourself all you want. We know the truth. You’re just a different variety of evil.”
Pierce ignored her stinging observation. “All the eligible guys out there in this big world, and a hot babe like you isn’t married?” he observed, nodding at her bare ring finger. “What’s the matter, some jerk break your tender heart, sweet cheeks? Or are you just afraid of commitment?”
His cruel comment hit Cyndi like a roundhouse kick to the gut. I’m not afraid to commit, Cyndi told herself. You have it all wrong. The number of fish in the sea is irrelevant. The few men out there who could measure up to my high standards are exceedingly rare, that’s all.
“Don’t call me sweet cheeks. I hate that name.” Cyndi spit in his face.
Pierce wiped away the spittle and sneered. “You’re a fighter. I like my women to have a little spunk. After I kill pretty boy over there, I’ll show you what a real man can do.”
Lance looked up at Pierce and cleared his throat. “Um…that’s probably a bad idea.”
“Shut up!” Pierce pointed his pistol at Lance’s head.
Lance raised his hands. “I’m just warning you; Cyndi gets very upset when men try to force themselves on her. You might want to reconsider.”
“Thanks for the advice, dead man. I’ll take it from here.”
“He’s right,” Cyndi rejoined. “You lay a hand on me, and I’ll teach you the hard way the manners your parents should have taught you.”
Cyndi had no idea the danger her words had just unleashed.
Painful memories jolted to the forefront of Pierce’s consciousness. Growing up an orphan had left deep scars on his psyche that would never heal. His rage boiled over. Pierce abandoned the calculating and careful tactics he normally used when dispatching his targets.
