by James Axler
DANGER ZONE
No place on Earth escaped the nuclear Armageddon that spawned the hellscape known as Deathlands. In a ravaged world where violence and lawlessness rule, a rare breed of hero has emerged. Ryan Cawdor is a lethal fighter who lives by a code of honor and fair play, and that has made him a legend….
DEPTH CHARGE
Miles beneath the ocean’s surface, a decaying redoubt barely protects Ryan and his companions from a watery death. Battling vicious assaults from cyborgs programmed by artificial intelligence to kill them, they’re desperate to escape this underwater trap. But above the waves a new threat awaits: a massive predark super ship banished to the seas of Deathlands. Decades of madness have led to civil war between the citizens of the upper and lower decks. Now pawns in a bloody game, Ryan and the other survivors must destroy the ship or face their certain end at sea.
The heavy door was jerked from Ricky’s grip
It slammed against the side of the pod with a clang. At the same time, a huge tentacle shot inside, wrapped around Ryan’s waist and yanked him off his feet.
As Ricky lunged to grab him, Ryan caught the edge of the door frame with his hand as he was hauled through. But no sooner had he latched on to it than the free-swinging portal swung back on its hinges and smashed into him.
Already exhausted, Ryan couldn’t hold on any longer. His fingers slipped off the metal lip, and he was pulled out into the dark and stormy night.
Other titles in the Deathlands saga:
Crucible of Time
Starfall
Encounter:
Collector’s Edition
Gemini Rising
Gaia’s Demise
Dark Reckoning
Shadow World
Pandora’s Redoubt
Rat King
Zero City
Savage Armada
Judas Strike
Shadow Fortress
Sunchild
Breakthrough
Salvation Road
Amazon Gate
Destiny’s Truth
Skydark Spawn
Damnation Road Show
Devil Riders
Bloodfire
Hellbenders
Separation
Death Hunt
Shaking Earth
Black Harvest
Vengeance Trail
Ritual Chill
Atlantis Reprise
Labyrinth
Strontium Swamp
Shatter Zone
Perdition Valley
Cannibal Moon
Sky Raider
Remember Tomorrow
Sunspot
Desert Kings
Apocalypse Unborn
Thunder Road
Plague Lords (Empire of Xibalba Book I)
Dark Resurrection (Empire of Xibalba Book II)
Eden’s Twilight
Desolation Crossing
Alpha Wave
Time Castaways
Prophecy
Blood Harvest
Arcadian’s Asylum
Baptism of Rage
Doom Helix
Moonfeast
Downrigger Drift
Playfair’s Axiom
Tainted Cascade
Perception Fault
Prodigal’s Return
Lost Gates
Haven’s Blight
Hell Road Warriors
Palaces of Light
Wretched Earth
Crimson Waters
No Man’s Land
Nemesis
Chrono Spasm
Sins of Honor
Storm Breakers
Dark Fathoms
Only God Almighty and naval research can save us from the perils of the sea.
—U.S. Senator John William Warner (ret.)
the DEATHLANDS SAGA
This world is their legacy, a world born in the violent nuclear spasm of 2001 that was the bitter outcome of a struggle for global dominance.
There is no real escape from this shockscape where life always hangs in the balance, vulnerable to newly demonic nature, barbarism, lawlessness.
But they are the warrior survivalists, and they endure—in the way of the lion, the hawk and the tiger, true to nature’s heart despite its ruination.
Ryan Cawdor: The privileged son of an East Coast baron. Acquainted with betrayal from a tender age, he is a master of the hard realities.
Krysty Wroth: Harmony ville’s own Titian-haired beauty, a woman with the strength of tempered steel. Her premonitions and Gaia powers have been fostered by her Mother Sonja.
J. B. Dix, the Armorer: Weapons master and Ryan’s close ally, he, too, honed his skills traversing the Deathlands with the legendary Trader.
Doctor Theophilus Tanner: Torn from his family and a gentler life in 1896, Doc has been thrown into a future he couldn’t have imagined.
Dr. Mildred Wyeth: Her father was killed by the Ku Klux Klan, but her fate is not much lighter. Restored from predark cryogenic suspension, she brings twentieth-century healing skills to a nightmare.
Jak Lauren: A true child of the wastelands, reared on adversity, loss and danger, the albino teenager is a fierce fighter and loyal friend.
Dean Cawdor: Ryan’s young son by Sharona accepts the only world he knows, and yet he is the seedling bearing the promise of tomorrow.
In a world where all was lost, they are humanity’s last hope.…
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Prologue
Poseidon Base—a top secret location
in the Pacific Ocean
0729 hours
January 20, 2001
The blaring Klaxon jolted Lieutenant Commander Martin Yates, United States Navy, out of a sound sleep and into instant alert. He’d swung out of his bunk in his cramped quarters and was in his boots and pulling on his one-piece, navy blue jumpsuit almost before he’d registered what was happening.
Another drill?
As he finished dressing, he listened to whatever announcement was being broadcast along with the wailing alarm.
“—all personnel are to report to their emergency duty stations. This is not a drill, repeat, this is not a drill. All personnel are to report to their emergency duty stations—”
Yates’s pulse quickened as the words sank in. What the hell was going on? He touched the photo of his wife, Maryann, and his five-year-old daughter, Raina—both living topside in Annapolis, Maryland—for luck. Then he walked to his door, which opened at his approach, and joined the steady stream of men and women hurrying to their various stations in the red-lit corridors. No one ran, no one talked, everyone moved swiftly and with purpose. But as Yates merged with the tide of humanity, he saw something he had never seen in their faces before—fear.
As he strode to the main command and control center, Yates ran through what might have gone wrong. The all-hands alert wasn’t for an equipment malfunction—that was a different announcement altogether. Neither was it for a crew accident; again, that was a different alert. As he hit the elevator for the bridge, his efficient mind came to the only logical conclusion, which matched the growing unease in his stomach.
Something had happened on the surface.
He blinked as the small elevator began its rise to the command center, then pushed that thought away. Without facts, he could not analyze the situation. And there was no way to react until he learned what he—what the entire sixty-seven-person crew—had to deal with.
A soft, pleasant female voice announced, “Command center.” The doors slid open.
“Executive officer on deck!” The previous watch commander, Chief Warrant Officer Rodney Spielman, came to attention and snapped off a crisp salute, but none of the other men and women at their various duty stations did. Yates’s eyebrows rose when he glanced around for the captain but didn’t see him anywhere. He also noticed that the metal shutters were all down over the thick, panoramic windows that allowed them to see outside. He returned the CWO’s salute—noting that he’d never seen the other man so pale—and the transfer of command was complete.
As he expected, every person was alert at his or her station, ready for whatever was about to come down the pike. He allowed himself the barest of smiles at their efficiency—the pride of the U.S. Navy manned Poseidon Base, and it showed in the adeptness of his crew. He ordered the Klaxon turned off, although they still remained at emergency lighting for now.
“What’s the situation?” he asked Spielman.
“Sir, at 0726 hours we received a Priority One signal from NORAD.” Spielman lowered his voice. “It said that Washington, D.C., has been hit by an as-yet-undetermined number of nuclear weapons.”
Yates blinked as his subordinate’s words sank in. He never realistically thought he’d live to see a nuclear strike on American soil. “Washington...how?”
“We do not have that information at this time, sir.”
“But—today’s the inauguration...” His family...Maryann and Raina had been planning to attend the swearing-in ceremony, weather permitting. But Annapolis, less than ten miles away from Washington, D.C., would be suffering from the aftermath regardless, especially the fallout, depending on wind direction. Even as the realization that his wife and daughter were most likely dead threatened to overwhelm him, Yates kept his anguish off his face and simply nodded. Now was not the time...
“Yes, sir. We have not confirmed this report yet, but are requesting more information. However, it was immediately followed by the announcement that all U.S. military forces are currently at DEFCON 1, and all personnel not in front-line positions are to await further instructions. Since then, communication has been...sporadic, at best, sir.” The CWO paused. “Standard emergency protocols are being followed—all outside excursions have been recalled or canceled, and all personnel are at general quarters, awaiting further orders.”
When the CWO finished, Yates took a deep breath as he absorbed the fundamental alteration of his entire world in the last sixty seconds. Even though he was dying to learn more about what was happening thousands of feet above them—in particular, to his family—he knew his first priority was to ensure the protection of the men and women under the Old Man’s—his—command. Yates exhaled slowly, tasting the faint metallic bite in the recycled air that he’d never gotten used to in the six months he’d been here. Then he got down to business.
“In the event that this is a real scenario, what is the station’s condition?” he asked.
“All oxygen scrubbers are working at full capacity, and spares are in stock. Assuming that rescue will not be possible for several months—” the look on Spielman’s face matched the thought in Martin’s mind, if ever “—we are able to exist down here for the next twelve to eighteen months.”
Yates grunted. “Well, at least we’ll be able to breathe for that long. How about our stores?”
“Stores are at 98.5 percent capacity, as we’ve just been resupplied for our next ninety-day duty stretch. When those are gone, we should be able to survive indefinitely on what we can harvest from the ocean, including kelp and algae, which will now move several notches up the priority list.”
Yates nodded. “Yeah, well, Rainer and his staff were wondering how long it would take to achieve their benchmarks. I guess they’re going to find out on a very accelerated timeline. What about potable water?”
“The desalinization system is operating at 99.7 percent efficiency. We are working to keep all storage tanks at maximum levels. It’s chemical showers for everyone for the foreseeable future, at least until we know how things are going to shake out topside. Sir...” Spielman paused. “Permission to speak freely?”
“Go ahead.”
“Given what’s happening, shouldn’t we order a general evacuation of the base while we still can?”
Yates wet his lips. “The thought had crossed my mind, as well, but ironically, we’re all probably safer here than anywhere else. Besides, where would we go—Hawaii? The Philippines? Japan? We’d just end up stranded there, most likely, and after this I doubt that Americans are going to be hugely popular in what’s left of the world, no matter who started it.”
Spielman nodded. He and Martin had served together at several Navy facilities around the world, and their thought processes complemented each other perfectly. It was one of the reasons they worked so well together. “Figured that’s what you’d say. Just wanted to double-check my math.”
“Understandable, given the circumstances.” Yates looked around again, making sure no one was eavesdropping on their conversation. “Okay. What about AIDAN?”
A frown crossed the CWO’s face. “That’s the other weird thing. The moment we got the message, Kasperic said AIDAN received a burst of information that it’s been processing for the past several minutes. Any attempts to access the information or query AIDAN regarding the information get no reply.”
Yates’s eyebrow arched. “Does he think it’s been hacked?”
“No, the sender was Department of Defense and legit.” Spielman thought for a second. “He did say that it came from some sort of project or division with an unusual name—Project Cerberus? A division of something called the Totality Concept? Sound familiar?”
Martin shook his head. “No idea, although if it is black box, that doesn’t sound good. Think it has anything to do with Pod Seven?”
Spielman stared at him. “Uncle Sam doesn’t pay me enough to think anything about Pod Seven, sir.”
“Affirmative on that. Let Kasperic know I want to know the second there’s any change in AIDAN.”
“Already done.”
“Excellent.” Yates looked around again, then eyed his CWO. “Now I gotta ask—where the hell’s the Old Man?”
Spielman shrugged. “He was notified when the message came in, and said that you were on your way up here. I don’t think he’s left his quarters since.”
Yates pursed his lips as he digested that information. It was very likely that the Old Man was reviewing the sealed orders that were included as standard protocol in every U.S. Navy facility, every ship, every submarine. Even in experimental ones such as this.
“Incoming message, Commander!” a nearby officer said as a printer began to chatter.
“I’ll take that.” Yates walked to the printer to pick up the page and read the message himself—primarily because he wanted to give the rest of the crew members a focal point to take their minds off their worries and fears. Oh, he had them, too, but a commander was always supposed to be above that.
The typed words he read on the flimsy paper chilled his blood.
* * *
TOP SECRET—CLASSIFICATION ULTRA BLUE
EYES ONLY
FROM NORAD:
UNITED STATES ATTACKED WITH NUCLEAR WEAPONS BY USSR. AS OF 1210 HOU
RS E.S.T.
CONFIRMED THAT PRESIDENT-ELECT AND VICE PRESIDENT-ELECT HAVE BOTH BEEN KILLED IN FIRST STRIKE THAT DESTROYED WASHINGTON D.C.
AS PER DOD ORDERS, ASSASSINATION PROTOCOLS HAVE GONE INTO EFFECT.
FULL COUNTER-STRIKE MEASURES ARE BEING LAUNCHED AT ALL LEVELS.
ALL RANKING NAVY OFFICERS WITH TS CLEARANCE ARE TO OPEN THEIR SEALED ORDERS IMMEDIATELY AND TAKE ALL NECESSARY ACTIONS.
FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS WILL BE FORTHCOMING.
* * *
“JESUS CHRIST, IT really is World War III, isn’t it, sir?” Spielman asked.
“Looks like it.” He glanced at the man sitting beside him at the console, who had tears running down his cheeks. “Get hold of yourself, Lieutenant, or you will be relieved of duty!”
“Aye, sir.” The young man wiped his cheeks. “Sorry, sir.”
Yates straightened to address the rest of the command staff, all of whom were now staring at him. He took a deep breath.
“As of—” he glanced at his watch “—twenty-five minutes ago, the United States was attacked in a nuclear first strike on Washington, D.C., by the USSR. The president-elect and vice president-elect have both been killed. We are now at DEFCON 1. A full counter-strike is being launched as I speak.”
“What about us?” one of the engineers asked.
“Right now, you all are to remain at general quarters until further orders are issued,” Yates replied. “I am going to conference with Captain Lucas immediately to discuss what our next steps are going to be. I will return to inform all of you, as well as the rest of the crew, shortly. Until then, this information is to not leave the bridge.”
He was about to head to the Old Man’s quarters, but was intercepted by Spielman. “Kasperic’s asking for you—he said AIDAN is back online.”
“He’ll have to wait until I’ve talked to the Old Man—” Martin began.
“Kasperic said you should stop by the control room immediately. His exact words.”
Yates’s stomach clenched even further at the message. “Tell him I’m on my way.” The elevator doors opened and he stepped inside.
The ride down was agonizingly long. Yates felt his tears building but wiped them away. He needed to be strong for everyone else here. Again, he pushed all thoughts of the world above, even his family, out of his mind.
