The Perseid Collapse
A Novel by Steven Konkoly
Contents
Dedication
Acknowledgments
About the Author
About The Perseid Collapse
PART I “RED DRAGON”
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
PART II “DURHAM ROAD”
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
PART III “ROADS LESS TRAVELLED”
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Part IV “JUST A WALK IN THE PARK”
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Copyright Information
Copyright 2013 by Steven Konkoly. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author, except where permitted by law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information, contact [email protected].
Dedication
To Kosia—still my number one supporter.
To Matthew and Sophia—two awesome kids who put up with dad’s long writing hours
Acknowledgments
To my wife, for encouraging my return to the post-apocalyptic genre. I forgot how much fun it can be to plan the end of the world. She’s been invaluable to the transition from writing about hardened covert operatives to “civilians.” I need constant reminding that the Fletcher’s are not the Petrovich’s, as much as I want them to be in certain situations.
To the beta reader crew for another round of rock-solid commentary and edits. Trent, Nancy, Jon and Bruce. I’m not sure what to say after six novels, other than—Thank you!
To the production crew, for another standout effort. Felicia A. Sullivan—once again meeting my “deadline” with grace and precision. Jeroen ten Berge—for producing a killer cover design and encouraging me to pursue The Perseid Collapse as a series. Stef McDaid—for the top-notch formatting job. Bloody brilliant as always! To Pauline for proofing the work. She’s the final layer, keeping the last of the typos and nasty sentences from reaching the reader.
A special thanks goes out to Randy Powers of Practical Tactical. Earlier this year, Randy interviewed me regarding The Jakarta Pandemic (interview here) and general disaster preparedness. I thoroughly enjoyed his questions and the practical lessons he found buried in The Jakarta Pandemic. He beta read The Perseid Collapse with a prepper’s eye and provided me with an early copy of Practical Tactical’s Handbook. Not only did this guidebook help shape the final disposition of the Fletcher’s wide array of survival gear and strategy, it currently serves as the “go to” guide for the Konkoly household.
Finally, to the readers, friends and fellow writers who supported my transition to full-time writing. None of this would be possible without your encouragement.
About the Author
Steven Konkoly graduated from the United States Naval Academy and served as a naval officer for eight years in various roles within the Navy and Marine Corps. He lives near the coast in southern Maine, where he writes full time.
He published his first novel, The Jakarta Pandemic, in 2010, followed by four novels in the Black Flagged series: Black Flagged (2011), Black Flagged Redux (2012), Black Flagged Apex (2012) and Black Flagged Vektor (2013). The Perseid Collapse is Book One in a planned series of three books. The Perseid Collapse: Event Horizon will be available in the spring of 2014.
Please visit Steven’s blog for updates and information regarding all his works:
www.stevenkonkoly.com
About The Perseid Collapse
The Perseid Collapse takes place six years after the H16N1 virus ravaged the world in my first novel, The Jakarta Pandemic. Feedback and reviews for The Jakarta Pandemic exceeded all expectations, with many readers asking me to write another novel featuring Alex Fletcher and his family. I balked at the idea, hesitant to write a true sequel to The Jakarta Pandemic.
I buried the idea of a follow-on apocalyptic novel for two years, occasionally unearthed by a new reader with the same request—more Fletchers. In between Black Flagged Apex and Vektor, I started putting some thought into the possibility of bringing them back.
If I planned to bring the Fletcher’s back, I had to accomplish two things. First, I had to create a unique disaster scenario. Not an easy task given the recent flood of post-apocalyptic books. Second, I needed to rain hell down on the Fletcher’s world. They would not have the option of “bunkering up” within the confines of their home. The final disaster concept hit me like a meteorite, nearly derailing the publication of Black Flagged Vektor. I feel confident that you’ll share in my excitement, within the first few pages.
Time in The Perseid Collapse world is measured in plus (+) or minus (-) Hours:Minutes from the EVENT. Book One in The Perseid Collapse Series chronicles the first 48 hours post EVENT.
PART I
“RED DRAGON”
Chapter 1
EVENT -04:56 Hours
Xinjiang Uyghur Autonomous Region
People’s Republic of China
Liang Zhen approached the shiny steel door and swiped his keycard, activating the biometric scanner. He pressed a shaky hand to the glass panel and waited for the system to verify his identity. He started to look over his shoulder, but stopped. They would read it on his face. The station’s endgame rapidly approached, and he had no intention of going down with his ship.
The pneumatic door opened, and he stepped into a new atmosphere—filtered of rank coffee breath and body odor. His sanctuary. The door hissed shut, and he doubled over, bracing his hands on his knees.
Breathe deeply. Get control.
He straightened up and cinched his tie. Loyalty be damned! His destiny did not include dying 450 feet underground, and he strongly suspected that Station Three would not survive the morning.
Station Three had served a single purpose since he arrived two years earlier: to prevent the world’s discovery of “ME8192019.” Working in shifts, the men and women of his station held a constant vigil over the vast digital fraud and network manipulation required for Operation Red Dragon to succeed.
Now that the operation had entered the terminal phase, his station remained the only loose end, and he wasn’t naïve enough to exclude the likelihood that Beijing would “close the loop” on Red Dragon.
He walked swiftly toward a stainless-steel door at the end of the hallway and entered the daily code into the keypad. Green light. Beijing suspected nothing. He opened the door to a brightly lit concrete stairwell, which rose several levels to a privat
e elevator lobby. From there, Liang could summon one of Station Three’s elevators and escape the facility.
He felt like a traitor leaving everyone behind, but someone had to survive, and he was the only member of the crew authorized to leave the station. Any attempt at an unauthorized mass exodus would trigger an immediate response. He couldn’t wait to see the Directorate’s sour faces when he resurfaced. Shock would eventually yield to relief that the genius behind China’s recovery had survived.
Liang Zhen, then second director of the Cyber Warfare Recovery Directorate, had been the first to propose the Republic of China wage a more active, silent war against the West, with the ultimate goal of destabilizing European and North American economies. Liang oversaw the program from 2014 until 2017, when the Future Vulnerabilities Group discovered an “event” with the potential to do far more than temporarily destabilize the United States.
They immediately sent Liang Zhen to Cyber Warfare Station Three to oversee Operation Red Dragon and fulfill China’s destiny. He was simply taking measures to ensure that the chief architect of that destiny still had a seat at the table when the dust settled. Thick dust.
Liang reached the ground lobby and scurried up three stories of metal stairs to the surface. The wide stairs ended at a thick iron door, which opened into the center of a vast, empty warehouse. Gusts of wind buffeted the building’s thin metal walls as he walked rapidly through the roasting heat toward the door.
The driver better be there.
The station was located in one of the most isolated sections of the former Lop Nur Nuclear Test Range, over sixty kilometers from the nearest inhabited post. He had little chance of surviving an escape on foot, and he had brought nothing to the surface with him, aside from his wallet and identification card.
The door swung open, propelled by a burst of stifling hot wind. Squinting through his fingers, he spotted the SUV. Perfect timing.
He struggled against the gale, pausing once to look behind him at the lone warehouse situated between two windswept ridges. One hundred and eleven Chinese citizens had worked on Red Dragon for twenty months, buried deep below the surface. Dead and buried from the start. They just hadn’t known it. None of them had—until recently.
Would they cut the power and let it die slowly? Poison the air supply? Did the station already have some kind of self-destruct failsafe installed? Whatever happened, he planned to be as far away as possible.
Halfway to the vehicle, he shook his head. The damn driver was asleep! He had better be resting for the marathon drive ahead. He found the front passenger door locked and knocked on the dust-caked window. The driver didn’t move. He banged on the side of the door. Just his shitty luck. The executive service sent an incompetent fool! He wiped the thick layer of dust off the passenger window and stumbled backward, falling to the hardened clay surface.
How could they know?
He turned on his stomach and scanned the horizon. Several figures sprinted toward him from the left side of the warehouse. He was a dead man. How long had they waited for him? The lead figure penetrated the sandstorm. Chinese Special Forces. Death would be a luxury.
“Director, I need you to return to your post immediately,” stated the soldier, extending his hand.
He nodded eagerly. It made sense to him now. If killing everyone had been the plan, they wouldn’t send him back down alive. He kept his eyes focused on the soldier’s feet. What a fool he had been. He’d flushed away everything. The Special Forces team would report his escape attempt, and the career he had cultivated for the past forty years would be finished. Acceptable in light of his irrational behavior. How could he face Tin and the rest of his deputies below? He would have to come up with an excuse.
An emergency meeting at the surface!
“Please, there is little time,” said the soldier, helping Director Zhen to his feet.
Chapter 2
EVENT -04:48 Hours
Jewell Island, Maine
The wind rose gently, nudging the campfire’s spectral plume toward Alex. He squirmed in the collapsible aluminum chair and turned his head as heated exhaust from the dying fire washed over him. The gust intensified, focusing the column of sparks and gases in his direction for a sudden, uncomfortable moment. Just as suddenly, the smoke drifted skyward on the confused breeze.
The mosquitos returned within seconds, causing Kate to mumble a few obscenities and wave a futile hand above her head to disperse the pests. He took her other hand and squeezed, finally catching her gaze. The soft firelight illuminated her gentle face and exposed the first genuine smile he’d seen since they left Boston yesterday.
“He’s really not that far away. We can visit him any time we want,” Alex said comfortingly, kissing her hand.
“I know. He’s just really on his own now,” said Kate, returning her eyes to the fire.
They had dropped Ryan at Boston University in the middle of the afternoon, after dining al fresco in Winthrop Square, a late-summer tradition they had enjoyed since Ryan and Emily were in grade school. The definition of al fresco dining had changed over the years, as the children matured. Lounging as a family, on blankets spread over the trampled grass, had inevitably yielded to scarfing down pizza and subs on the outskirts of the park. Still, they never failed to take time out of their annual Boston pilgrimage to visit the iconic Harvard Square gathering place and its eclectic assortment of musicians and vendors.
This year’s visit had been slightly awkward, if not tense for the family. Ryan had been anxious to be ferried across the Charles River, but Kate was in no hurry to surrender her firstborn. She prolonged the stroll through Cambridge, pushing Ryan’s barely tested patience to dangerous levels. Alex could sense the strain, and had spent most of the day implementing one subtle intervention after another to keep them from exploding before the inevitable outburst at the foot of Ryan’s dormitory building.
Kate remained silent for most of the drive back, punctuated by Alex’s occasional failed attempt to distract her from the significance of the afternoon’s farewell. Ryan was truly on his own, free to follow the path of his choosing. Every phone call that flashed his name would flood them with a mix of joy, apprehension and ultimately relief. Any conversation from this point forward could instantly morph into a defining moment for Ryan. Anything was possible. He had taken the first steps toward escaping his parents’ gravitational pull this afternoon. Ryan couldn’t understand this yet, but Kate and Alex had effectively released him, which is why Kate’s somber mood was nearly impenetrable.
“He’s a smart, cautious kid. Just like his mother,” said Alex.
“He has a wild side that worries me,” she whispered.
She was right to a certain degree. The events surrounding their experience during the Jakarta Pandemic had drawn out aspects of his personality that might have lain dormant for years, fueling a confidence that more resembled recklessness at such a young age. He didn’t have the maturity to temper the confidence that came with saving his father from a brutal psychopath at age twelve and standing guard over their house as the world recovered from the pandemic. He never crossed any lines that landed him in trouble with the school or police, but he was far too comfortable walking the line. Ryan was destined for something important. Kate just wanted to make sure he survived until that point.
“ROTC will keep him in line. There’s only so much crazy shit you can get away with enrolled in that kind of program,” he whispered back.
“Is that supposed to make me feel better? We’ll be at war with Iran by the time he graduates.”
“We were supposed to be at war with Iran last year—and the year before that. Nobody’s going into battle any time soon. He’s Navy ROTC anyway,” said Alex.
“He’ll switch to Marine-Option the first chance he gets. He was placating me with that song and dance about the navy. So were you.”
“Why are you guys whispering?” interrupted Emily.
“No reason. Has anyone seen a meteorite? We shall remain at
the mercy of these mosquitos until everyone has spotted at least one. That’s the tradition,” said Alex.
“It’s meteor, Dad,” said Emily.
“What is?”
“A meteorite is a meteor that lands on Earth. Up in the sky, they are called meteors.”
“It could be a meteorite,” Alex argued.
“Maybe, but not until it officially hits the earth,” Emily insisted. “That’s why they call this a meteor shower.”
“Ethan, do you agree with Emily’s scientific assessment?” said Alex, trying to draw him into the conversation.
“She’s rarely wrong about anything,” said Ethan, with a hint of humor.
“I know someone else that is rarely wrong,” said Alex, glancing at Kate.
“Rarely? More like never,” said Kate.
Ethan laughed at their exchange, which comforted Alex. This had been the first year that they had been able to convince Ethan to join them on the sailboat, or any family trip for that matter. The idea to adopt his brother’s children quickly fizzled when Ethan and Kevin had arrived in Maine. The sudden death of their parents during the pandemic had firmly attached them to Alex’s parents. The situation was complicated, especially in the aftermath of the pandemic, and the Fletchers didn’t see any reason to disturb what little stability and family dynamic the children had left. Alex’s parents remained the legal guardians, eventually adopting Ethan and Kevin in 2015, when they could finally obtain the proper paperwork and affidavits from the State of Colorado.
They lived with Tim and Amy Fletcher on an isolated farm near Limerick, Maine, thirty-two miles west of Scarborough. Alex had purchased a large parcel of lakefront property and built a custom-designed, sustainable home for them, with the idea that the farm would serve as the Fletcher family stronghold if another disaster or pandemic ever hit Maine. Alex and his clan spent at least two days a week at the farm in the summer, helping with the massive garden, which required constant attention. Over the course of five years, the two families had turned the twenty-acre parcel of land into a self-sustainable family compound.
The Perseid Collapse (The Perseid Collapse Series 1) Page 1
