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by Richard Stephenson

  “Everything okay, Old Man? I did not like that at all. Please tell me that was the worst of it.”

  “We are fine, sir. The takeoff proceeded as I anticipated.”

  Howard tried to ignore his anxiety and desperately wanted a distraction. “Hal, talk to me.”

  “About what, sir?”

  “I don’t know, anything. I don’t like to fly. Do you have any way of knowing what’s going on back at the residence?”

  “No, sir. With my primary cores destroyed, I have no connection to the residence. My auxiliary systems were transferred to this escape pod. Once we arrived at the Castle, I was able to establish a connection to my secondary systems. While I am operating at full capacity, I am sorry to say that I no longer have access to Beck Estates.”

  “I figured as much, thought maybe we had some sort of backup.”

  “No, sir, you designed the failsafe systems to completely remove all traces of my program in an emergency.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. Don’t want anyone to be able to link into your program and snoop around. Just wish we had some way of knowing what those bastards are doing in my house.”

  “The failsafe worked perfectly, sir. They will not be able to access any of my programs.”

  “What about Chicago? Any word from our offices? Is everything safe?”

  “Riots continue to spread throughout the city; however, the Chicago branch of Beck Enterprises remains secure. I foresee no problem landing at our airstrip.”

  “Good! Anything else going on that I should know about?”

  “Sir, I have been monitoring a breaking news story for the past several minutes. However, given your current state, I’m not sure if you are in any condition to hear it. I was going to wait until we landed in Chicago to inform you.”

  “I just had my house invaded, and I’m flying for the first time in decades. I think I can handle it.”

  “Sir, it appears that…”

  Hal was cut off mid-sentence, and the cockpit went completely dark. Howard’s eyes adjusted and he could see the stars in the sky.

  “What’s going on? Hal! What are you doing? This isn’t funny! Hal! Answer me!”

  Howard realized in terror that the engines had cut off. He pushed the buttons on the keyboard in front of him and nothing happened.

  “Hal! Respond! The engines shut off! I can’t fly this thing by myself! Hal!”

  Howard felt a tingling sensation in his gut and felt himself slowly rise up from his chair, the harness digging into his shoulders. The escape pod was in free fall, returning back to Earth.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Five hundred and twelve miles from the eastern coast of the United States, the Jabal class Iranian nuclear submarine, the Habibollah Sayyari, was stationary and submerged two hundred meters below the surface. The skipper of the boat, Captain Farzad Zamani, was simply waiting until the appropriate time to deliver his payload to the pre-determined target. His journey across the Atlantic was uneventful due to the simple fact that no one had any idea where he was, not even his superiors. He was given a target, a set of coordinates, and a time — that was it. The Atlantic was wide open and he made the journey without resistance.

  When the radioactive material began to spill from Bunker Five and blind the Allied Forces, the Habibollah Sayyari was nowhere near the bunker. She was sitting in the Atlantic, twenty miles from the Port of Gibraltar. The Allied Forces were convinced that the Empire would attempt to sneak a nuclear device into the Arabian Sea and across the Indian Ocean. The tactic was not meant as a diversion, even though it did accomplish the task. The reason for the radioactive spill was to draw the Enterprise and the George Washington out of the Atlantic and into the Indian Ocean to look for a killer submarine with a nuke headed to the United States. Once the two aircraft carriers and their support vessels left the Atlantic, the Habibollah Sayyari raced across to the shores of the Eastern Seaboard with nothing in her way. The Empire didn’t want any Allied vessels in the Atlantic capable of shooting down anything that was launched from their submarine.

  The most guarded secret of the Great Empire of Iran was the fifty-mile underground tunnel they built from Bunker Three, located in western Turkey, into the Mediterranean Sea. The construction took over four years at the expense of thousands of lives. The construction crews never knew what they were digging, or the reason. To protect the project’s security, the work crews were executed when their part of the project was completed, their families told of some horrible accident. A new work crew would be brought in for the next phase of construction and the process repeated. When the tunnel was completed, the waters from the Mediterranean poured in and flooded the distance to the bottom level of the bunker. The rest of the world was oblivious to the fact that the Empire had a secret route into the Mediterranean Sea

  In the four years the tunnel was under construction, the Empire also commissioned a top-secret stealth submarine to be built. The submarine was roughly the size of a bus and had an eight-man crew. The engine aboard the secret craft was also a carefully guarded secret. The Iranians had developed a submarine that couldn’t be detected in anyway. No sonar could ping off it, it was completely stealth. The sole purpose of the craft was to sneak past the Port of Gibraltar undetected.

  The mini-sub accomplished the task with ease and docked with the Habibollah Sayyari to deliver her nuclear payload. The mini-sub had been given orders to remain at the location and await the go-ahead to attack Gibraltar. After the mini-sub destroyed the James Russell and left Gibraltar ripe for the picking, she would embark on a bold mission that would send the mini-sub up the Potomac River into Washington, D.C.

  *

  Lindsay Sanderson and her two children awoke in their one bedroom apartment in the Bronx. The apartment was in a rundown building that would probably be condemned should it undergo inspection. After Lindsay and her children were evicted from the Central Park Obama-Camp, they had to sleep in alleys and dumpsters while they waited for William to send more money. The first paycheck he sent home from the U.S. Army to his wife was spent on food, clothes, and a few days in a cheap motel. Lindsay saved what she could, and by the time the third check came, she had enough money for a deposit on a cheap one bedroom apartment and the first month’s rent. They didn’t have enough to have the power turned on, but Lindsay didn’t really care. She also didn’t have to worry about paying for water. There was a communal bathroom on every floor. She would wait until the middle of the day when it was being used the least, and she and her two children would bathe, use the restroom, and fill up their containers with water to take back to the room. Lindsay was not naive or stupid. She knew that behind most of the doors in her apartment building people were engaging in prostitution or drugs, probably both. Anytime they left the apartment, she had a vice grip on her children’s hands. Her sweet, innocent children thought the first floor of the apartment building was a school since so many children wandered the halls. Lindsay knew the children on the first floor were prostitutes waiting to be sold into slavery. She never dared venture down the hallway on the first floor with her precious babies at her side.

  Upon entering her tiny apartment, she locked all four deadbolts on the door and slid the dresser in front of it. Safely barricaded inside, she could watch her children play and relax in the joyful bliss of knowing they were safe and had a real roof over their heads. Lindsay thought back to the nights in the Obama-Camp when William never slept a wink so he could scare intruders away from their shack. Lindsay didn’t sleep for the first week they were in the apartment. She kept waiting for someone to break in or at least bang on the door and wake them up. Their doorstep was never visited, and for the most part, the nights were pretty quiet. Apparently, the tenants on her floor wanted to be left alone as much as she did.

  Lindsay had no idea where her husband was. She didn’t have a phone, and mail delivery was, for the most part, nonexistent. The last thing she wanted William to do was worry about them. The only contact she had with her husband
was on payday. As soon as she entered the Western Union and got the money, she paid the clerk five dollars to use his phone and William called her. William was never allowed to say anything about his location. William would talk with his children and listen to all of the hurried and nonsensical stories that hyper children often tell. William and Lindsay would spend the remaining minutes engaged in conversation that lifted both of their spirits. When he had six months of service under his belt, his family could move to Fort Polk, Louisiana, and live in base housing. William and Lindsay would talk about their future home and how they would decorate and furnish it. The phone calls they had every payday were the highlight of their bleak lives and every moment after was spent looking forward to the next one.

  William was deployed to southern Spain with the 519th Military Police Battalion. Since William had a Master’s degree, he was given the rank of Second Lieutenant. He went through basic training and a very brief officer’s school, one that should have been three times as long. In wartime, however, the military needed officers desperately. It was hard to find qualified candidates, given the state of education in the United States. When the Army found out that William had a post-graduate degree, they jumped at the chance to make him an officer, and William gladly accepted the promotion. Lieutenant Sanderson was thankful for his platoon sergeant, SFC Myers, for showing him the ropes and helping him make crucial decisions. Their platoon was tasked with securing one half of a convoy route from the Port of Gibraltar to Seville. Once their three-day rotation on the convoy was completed, they were relieved by another platoon and returned to Gibraltar to provide security for the aircraft carrier guarding the key military position. William had never seen an aircraft carrier up close. The USS James Russell was an impressive sight to behold. She had been severely damaged by a submarine during the Battle of Tel-Aviv and barely made it back to Gibraltar. William was optimistic that the war would be over within a year since both the Enterprise and the George Washington were headed to Gibraltar to help secure the port and join with the offensive in the Mediterranean. He didn’t know what rumors to believe, both of the aircraft carriers were several days overdue. He’d also heard that they were not coming at all and were redeployed elsewhere.

  William thought about his wife and children every minute of every day. He had never been apart from them for any length of time. Leaving them behind was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. When he saw the news footage of the demise of the Central Park Obama-Camp, he almost had a nervous breakdown. He was ready to leave the army to go find his family, but was warned against the idea since he would be branded as a deserter. Desertion in war time would land him in jail if they caught him. He had little choice but to wait the two agonizing weeks until his next payday to see if Lindsay showed up to collect the money. A fellow lieutenant always did him the favor of tracking the Western Union order. When Lindsay picked up the money, William was notified and called Lindsay. Hearing her voice after two weeks was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. William peppered her with questions but Lindsay only answered, “Don’t worry, we’re fine.” William knew that his wife was a very strong woman and a survivor like him. She proved it when they lost their home and had to move into the Central Park Obama-Camp. She didn’t divorce him or even hold him responsible. Her dedication to their marriage and to their family was unwavering.

  *

  William was in the best possible mood. Even though he hadn’t had a hot shower in days and had been eating MREs for the better part of a week, nothing could put him in a bad mood on payday. William didn’t care in the least about the money; he never saw one penny of it. The entire check went to his family. The Western Union order had been sent, and William was lingering around the admin building waiting for his friend to give word that Lindsay had picked up the cash. William and his wife had set up a time window of about six hours. He would always send the Western Union order at noon, New York time, and wait six hours to hear from Lindsay. If Lindsay didn’t pick up the check by 6pm, he knew something wasn’t right. If that ever happened, William had instructed her to be at the Western Union office the next day when it opened. Lindsay had never once been late. On this particular payday, it was getting close to the five-hour mark and William was starting to worry. Just a few minutes shy of the six-hour deadline, William was given word that she had picked up the cash. He quickly dialed the number, and Lindsay answered.

  “Hey baby, I’m so sorry to keep you waiting.”

  “Cutting it a little close this time? It’s fine. You made it before the deadline. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, things are fine. I just let the time get away from me.”

  “What’ve you been up to?”

  “Well, I’ve been thinking about getting a used TV to pass the time.”

  “Wouldn’t you have to get the power turned on? Thought you didn’t want to bother with that.”

  “Well, winter is coming and we need to get a space heater. Also wouldn’t mind having some light. The light from the windows doesn’t really do the trick.”

  “You still on a month to month lease?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. I’m trying to pull some strings to get you guys to Fort Polk two months ahead of schedule.”

  “That would be a dream.”

  “No guarantees. I’m not sure it will happen, but I’m pushing hard for it. Okay, let me talk to the kiddos.”

  Silence.

  “Lindsay, can you hear me? You still there? Honey?”

  Silence.

  “Hey! You there, baby? I can’t hear you.”

  Silence.

  “Sweetheart, I don’t know if you can hear me but I can’t hear you on my end. I’m going to hang up now and call the number back. If I can’t reach you, we’ll have to wait another two weeks. I love you so much. I’m hanging up now.”

  William hung the phone up and redialed. The line was busy.

  *

  “Why the hell did you do that? I was in the middle of a conversation!”

  The clerk had pulled the phone out of Lindsay’s hand and hung it up. He quickly started dialing. He was frantic and very upset about something.

  “John? What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

  “Look!” The Western Union employee pointed at his computer monitor and swiveled it around for her to see.

  *

  Captain Farzad Zamani carried out his instructions at the precise time. He surfaced the Habibollah Sayyari and transmitted a message over an unsecured line. The message repeated the same phrase over and over — “The Star of Allah illuminates the wicked.” Captain Zamani wanted the infidels to know that Allah was punishing them. Much like the glorious day in 2001, when his faithful brothers brought down the Twin Towers, Captain Zamani wanted the launch of his missile to be broadcast on live TV for the Americans to witness in horror, just as they had watched the attack on the South Tower years before. He sent the broadcast over the airwaves for ten minutes, long enough for the American satellites to get a fix on him and record the launch. There were far more working satellites in 2001 compared to today, but that didn’t matter. All he needed was one.

  Captain Zamani did not dare to wait more than ten minutes. He knew that to do so would be very dangerous and left him vulnerable to attack. He gave the order and the missile was launched. He submerged the Habibollah Sayyari and hoped that a major news outlet had a satellite broadcasting his launch on live TV.

  *

  “Oh, God! What is that? Where are they?” Lindsay watched the live newsfeed over the Internet and tried to keep up with the journalist speaking in the background.

  John spoke but didn’t take his eyes from the monitor. “That’s an Iranian submarine.”

  “Where is it? What are they doing?” Lindsay squeezed her children’s hands harder.

  “It’s in the Atlantic. They’re broadcasting a message over and over. It says ‘The Star of Allah illuminates the wicked.’”

  Lindsay began to cry. She had never wanted
her husband by her side more than she did at that moment. She was terrified and knew that she and her children stood a real chance of dying if that submarine started launching missiles. Washington, D.C., would be the first and most obvious target. If that submarine had a second missile, it was heading for New York.

  “Please..oh please..oh please, NO!” Lindsay picked up both of her children and hugged them tight.

  “Mommy, why are you crying? Do you miss Daddy? It’s okay Mommy, don’t cry, I miss him, too.”

  “Mommy loves you both so much. Everything is fine, my sweet babies. You’re right, angel, Mommy just misses Daddy. We all miss him.”

  Lindsay slid down the wall and buried her children’s faces in her breast. “Hey, have you guys decided on what we’re going to name the puppy?”

  “Rascal!”

  “No, Howie!”

  Lindsay wiped the tears from her face and calmed her shaken voice. “Come on now! I told you guys, you both have to agree on the name!”

  “Rascal!”

  “Howie!!”

  “Oh my God, they launched something! No! We’re all gonna die!” John jumped over the counter, locked the front door and turned off the light. Lindsay motioned for the young man to sit down next to her. She managed to let a silly thought come to the surface and almost laughed amidst the horror. John had locked the door and turned off the lights, as if the action carried real weight.

  “Who’s gonna die? Are we gonna die?” Lindsay’s son started whimpering.

  “No, no, no baby. John was just talking about a movie, right John?” Lindsay looked at the young man in desperation, hoping he would realize he was scaring the children.

  “Uh, yeah, yeah. Sorry, just excited to see this really cool movie.” John reached over and held Lindsay’s hand. He looked away from the children as tears stream down his face. John had called his girlfriend but it went straight to voicemail. All he wanted was to hear her voice.