by David Cline
Wood reached out and felt it. A bright LED light the size of a nickel in the center of a dome metal plate had been bolted to the tunnel wall. It strobed so fast, everything around him looked like it was in slow motion.
“See if there is another one directly across from it,” Wood told Wilkins.
“Yup.” Wilkins swore again. “Motion sensor.” He removed one of the lugers and smashed the sensor to pieces with the bottom of the gun’s grip. He crossed the tunnel and did the same to the blinking red light. “I think the game is up before we really even got started.”
Ahead, the activity at the tunnel exit had changed. The distant voices grew frantic. It reminded Wood of a hornet’s nest suddenly provoked. Dark shapes began to amass.
“That’s a shame,” Wood said. “Looks like we only have two options. Surrender or run for it.”
Wilkins strapped the gun back to his chest. “How fast was your last timed mile sprint?”
“Fast enough.”
They turned their headlamps on and ran for their lives back the way they had come. Wood’s heart pounded and sweat streaked down his face. Ahead of him Wilkins tore a luger that smacked his chin with every stride and discarded it behind him. They passed the spot they had previously rested without so much as a backwards glance.
As they neared the entrance to the cathedral, Wood thought they might make it when the metal tracks began to shudder below them. They both slowed to reassess the situation.
“Which way is it coming?” Wilkins asked. His eyes wide as dinner plates.
Wood stopped and cocked his head. The unmistakable sound of the approaching train came from straight ahead, blocking their exit into the wide vaults of the cathedral chamber.
They whirled around and raced for the spot where the tunnel widened.
“This might be it old buddy,” Wilkins wheezed. His face was filthy from the dust of the tunnel sticking to wet skin.
The roar behind them made Wood wince as he ran. The noise was earsplitting. The entire tunnel shook. Small bits of rock rained down on them. Any moment they would become nothing but red dye on the walls.
The faint light behind them grew stronger until Wood’s vision became distorted. The ground rushed up to meet him. His chin hit a rock as he fell end over end, coming to a complete stop. It took a moment to realize he had tripped over a railroad tie jutting out a little farther than the rest. He felt hot blood run down his face. He clenched his teeth and prepared himself for the end.
Wood’s senses were not working. The blinding light and deafening roar were enough to disorient anyone. A strong pair of arms gripped him around the collar and pulled him up.
“The train is slowing down,” Wilkins screamed.
Wood looked behind him and saw a light as bright as the sun approach them. Wood shielded his eyes.
Beside him, Wilkins was on one knee loading magazines into as many guns as he could. “Now that we’re not getting splattered,” he yelled, “I don’t plan on getting shot in the back.”
The train’s lights dimmed as it screeched to a halt only 15 feet away from them and Wood got his first good look it. If a lizard had been perched on either wall or ceiling, it would have been flattened. The train took up every single available centimeter. It had a red triangular grate on the bottom. A row of powerful spotlights was mounted at the top. Two black rectangular windows were below the lights. Wood tried to see anyone inside but only saw the reflection of the cave.
Wilkins handed him a pistol. Wood’s hand shook as he gripped it. He realized he was probably in shock. The prospect of imminent death had a way of doing that. Blood dripped from his chin. His hands were both red and sticky. The train had shaken a blinding cloud of dust off the walls. Wood coughed until his sides burned.
“Sorry Adam,” Wood wheezed. “Don’t think I’m going to be much help this time around.”
Above the metal grate, a large eagle looking left with a swastika surrounded by a wreath in its talons had been welded to the front. It was an exact match from the image on the coins they had found. Wood thought it could have been an original. The metal had been completed with care, but the work looked aged.
Wilkins’ shoulders drooped. He exhaled a breath like a bull before the matador delivers the final blow.
A group of silhouettes appeared behind them. Through the cloud of dust Wood couldn’t distinguish if they were men or women. He guessed there were at least ten of them. A deep voice yelled an order in a language he could not understand. It sounded like German, but the accent was strange.
Wood gave Wilkins a grateful look. They had experienced more in almost three decades together than most people could dream of.
Behind them there was a loud crack. One of the train’s front windows smashed and rained shards of glass over the tracks. Wood looked up and recognized Gisela inside.
The last time Wood had seen her was when he had split her forehead open with a rock. It gave him a strange sense of satisfaction to see the fresh scar.
She yelled something to the group. They hesitated and a heated discussion began. Wood tried to pick up any words he could use to at least get some context, but he felt like he was in Asia.
They finally seemed to work something out and the entire group approached. One lowered his rifle and wound it behind him like a baseball bat.
“Ah damn,” Wilkins said. He raised his arm to block the blow. The stock of the rifle ricocheted harmlessly away. Enraged, the man wound up for a second strike. Wood waited for the right moment and then kicked sideways into the man’s knee, using all of what strength he had left. A gruesome popping sound echoed around them and the man fell screaming.
The others pounced on them like a pack of lions trying to bring down a giraffe. They hit, punched, and kicked with a fiery hatred. Wood rose his arms to protects his head and felt a rib crack as a rifle stock smashed into him.
He heard Wilkins snarl and try to fight back but they didn’t have a chance. Someone landed a savage blow to Wilkins’ head and Wood saw him crumple beside him.
Searing pain overwhelmed his nervous system and he curled into a ball on the ground. The blows continued. He coughed and spat blood. He was beaten mercilessly until he lost consciousness and he gratefully welcomed the blackness.
Chapter 29
Stalbridge paced his office like a caged lion. He had been on the phone so often his staff had convinced him to use a Bluetooth headset. It was convenient, but he couldn’t slam a headset when a call went bad. This one was shaping up to be a bad one.
It had been another sleepless night. The maritime clock read 11 am. He stood in front of it and examined his reflection. His eyes were bloodshot and large droopy bags looked swollen beneath them. He examined them a little closer and wondered if age was fighting to catch up with him. Maybe it was just the lack of sleep and stress. He tried to remember the last time he had eaten.
“I hear your concerns,” he said into the receiver, no longer able to mask the irritation in his voice. He was too tired for pleasantries. “You need to understand that we are facing a global crisis on a scale never before experienced by mankind.” He thought about some of the stories recounted in the bible, and purposely omitted them. Too many people to count had already called him crazy the past few weeks. He felt like one of the prophets of old screaming words of warning while the people mocked him. “We in the United States have taken the precautionary steps necessary to mitigate such a devastating event.”
There was a short pause. “You’re not a politician,” came the accented voice. “You have no real power. What steps have you taken?”
Stalbridge gritted his teeth. Damn Europeans, he thought. Hopeless. “I have already explained what steps you must take to protect your electrical grid and prepare the citizens of your country properly. When this hits us, our governments will need to coordinate to restore order.” He did not know what they could possibly do for the United States but didn’t vocalize it. “This is just a courtesy call from your friends across the pond.”<
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“I thank you for your concern, but what you ask for is not possible.”
Stalbridge clenched his fist and was about to unload on this pompous crouton when his office door swung open and Danville stumbled in, panting. Stalbridge tried to locate the mute button on the headset but after a few unsuccessful seconds ripped it from his head and threw it onto his desk across the room. “What is it?” The expression on Danville’s face caused his blood to run cold.
“Super flare,” Danville breathed, bent over with a hand on both knees. “It’s happened.”
“How much time do we have?”
The blood had drained from Danville’s face. He looked albino white. He shook his head. “Solar flares and coronal mass ejections are like a canon. The flare is the muzzle flash and the coronal mass ejection is the cannon ball. Our satellites just picked up the muzzle flash seven minutes ago.”
“Are we down range of that cannonball?”
Danville nodded. “Don’t think it’s going to be a direct hit. But it’s going to be big enough to cause some serious problems.”
Stalbridge swore and strode over to his desk. He swept the flimsy headset onto the ground with his forearm and snatched up the desk phone. He dialed and then drummed the polished surface with impatient fingers. He heard the familiar click of someone on the other end picking up. “Shut down power immediately to the entire building,” he said, before they could answer. “Use generator two for the phones, intercoms and emergency systems.”
There was a pause. “I will warn everyone and--”
“Turn the power off right now!” Stalbridge roared.
“Yes, sir.”
He hung up and dialed the Secretary of Energy.
“Hello?” came the woman’s voice.
“It’s happened. Get the word out.”
There was a short pause. “Oh no,” she said. Her voice sounded weak.
“Did everyone comply after a little bit of pressure from your office?”
“Yes. Every separate region is on standby and waiting for our phone call. The Texas Interconnection pushed back, but we got them to come around in the end.”
“Good,” Stalbridge said. “Make it happen. We will be in touch.”
He hung up and looked wildly around the office. The threat of this moment had loomed over them for so long, but now that it was here, he had a hard time recalling everything he had planned to do. He shook his head and realized he was not performing at 100%. He needed some sleep.
“Families,” Danville said.
“Right.” Stalbridge picked up the phone again and dialed a series of numbers patching him through to the intercom system that ran throughout the entire building. He cleared his throat. “This is Jim Stalbridge speaking.” He heard his voice reverberate outside his office and down the hall. “The moment we have feared has arrived.” He paused and ran a hand through his short cut hair. “Over the last few weeks, you have all worked harder than anyone in the world. Your sacrifice will save lives and I can’t begin to thank you enough.”
From across the room, Danville gave him a distant nod. He continued. “As planned, everyone is free to leave and be with their families. If you wish, and believe prudent, you may invite your families to come here instead. We have stocked enough food and water to last at least a year. We have enough accommodations for everyone. Because the imminent future is so uncertain, we have taken the necessary precautions to fortify this building should anarchy and chaos rule the day.” He paused again and closed his eyes. “Let us pray it doesn’t come to that. You all must know that we prepare for the very worse. Good luck to all of you. I love you like my own family.”
He hung the phone up and opened a drawer in his desk. “I’ve been saving it for this moment,” he said, pulling out a cigar. “It’s my last one. A damn shame.” He held the cigar under his nose and breathed in deeply. “My cigar guy wasn’t able to send me a new shipment in time.” He sighed. “Looks like I might not get another one for a long time.”
“What now?” Danville asked. “We have done everything possible.”
Stalbridge gave him a tired smile. “We go to the roof and get a look at this thing.”
Word got around that an informal gathering on the roof was taking place. It felt more like an end of the world party. Soon Stalbridge and Danville were joined by many of their colleagues. Stalbridge thought their collective facial expressions revealed an apprehensive yet satisfied feeling. They really had accomplished incredible feats the last few weeks.
Someone brought up foldable chairs and they all sat down and looked out across the ocean. No one spoke. The sky was blue, and the sun was high.
“It’s beautiful,” Stalbridge whispered. He looked at Danville sitting next to him with a thoughtful expression on his face. “Where on the planet will it hit first?”
Danville smiled like a teacher whose student asked an obvious question. He pointed to the sun high above them. “Right here. It is almost noon Pacific Time. We are directly in the sun’s line of site. The time zones that are asleep right now will miss the first firework show.”
Stalbridge chuckled. “Right.” He looked down to the street below. Cars meandered through the light traffic. Pedestrians enjoyed the warm salty air. He wondered if his organization could have somehow done more.
Stalbridge stood and looked out across the city. The power had been cut. Distant horns honked as people negotiated intersections. He had somehow convinced the utility companies to temporarily cut power to more than 350 million people. He chuckled to himself. He still had it.
Someone nearby spoke excitedly and everyone looked up.
“This is it,” Danville whispered in a reverent tone.
Stalbridge looked up. A shockwave on an incomprehensible scale rocketed through the sky toward them. It was like watching a bullet fire from a high caliber rifle in slow motion.
The people around him could not help themselves. They shaded their eyes with their hands, awed by what they saw. Everyone on the roof knew they were witnessing galactic power only hypothesized by centuries of scientists and physicists.
Beside him, Danville grimaced. “That much raw energy is going to suck vast amounts of oxygen into lower space where it will collide with trillions of hydrogen particles currently rocketing toward us.”
“The cannonball,” Stalbridge said.
Danville nodded. “The cannonball. They will form hydroxyls and then the earth’s gravity will cause those particles to fall back down to earth in the form of water. As the earth rotates on its axis over the next few days, the stream of particles will hit the globe like a hose against a spinning beach ball. All of that precipitation will cause a global superstorm.”
Stalbridge pulled out an antique lighter from the battle of Verdun. He admired the workmanship and the history contained within. Olive branches had been engraved into the metal. He placed the cigar between his teeth and shielded the flame from the breeze.
Danville pointed up. “Any satellites on this side of the planet are toast.”
Stalbridge exhaled a ring of smoke and looked down to the street again. Besides the power outage causing some confusion, people continued as though nothing had happened. He looked at Danville. “How bad is it going to be?”
Danville hesitated. “If the models on my computer have any degree of accuracy, pretty bad. Entire islands only a few feet in elevation will completely disappear. Coast lines and marsh lands will change. 75% of the entire world’s population live in mega-cities by the oceans.” He bit his lower lip. “Things could get pretty ugly.”
Stalbridge sat back down. “You think it would be possible to cover the entire earth with water? Like Noah’s ark.”
“No. Many religious and historical scholars place Noah in Mesopotamia located between the Tigris and Euphrates rivers. I believe that in the Greek language, Mesopotamia literally means land between two rivers. 5000 years ago, that area was the melting pot of the entire world. Some of the most important discoveries including the wheel h
appened there. Mathematics, astronomy and agriculture were all developed and spread from that region. Some of the richest and most prosperous civilizations in history like Babylon flourished there.”
Stalbridge listened but let his eyes wander the distant skyline as he puffed on the cigar.
Danville continued. “The lifeblood of these cities was water. To accommodate the booming population, vast irrigation systems were constructed and utilized to disperse the life-giving water. Every year those rivers would swell and flood their banks which the people relied on for their crops and livestock. Occasionally, however, there would be a 100 year, or 1000-year super flood.
Stalbridge looked at him. “You think one of those super floods was the basis for the Noah story?”
Danville shrugged. “I think it makes a lot of sense. A large enough flood would cover that entire region. The implication of the moral account in Genesis is beyond my scope of expertise. I simply look at the written history and do my best to hypothesize what the most probable explanation is.”
“What about Nick and Adam’s discovery on Mount Ararat?”
Danville looked like a mathematician pondering a question with more than one right answer. “I don’t know,” he said. “Every ancient culture that kept records have some version of a flood. Whether they all refer to the same global event, or account various events over the course of human history is beyond me at this time.”
“What about the covenant God made with Noah? Promising to never again destroy all life on earth with water. Then he creates the rainbow as a reminder of this covenant?”
Danville chuckled. “I know Wood believes God is bound by the same laws of physics as the rest of us.” He looked up toward the heavens. “If there was another global flood, it would not be God’s doing, it would be Odessa’s. Using the same understanding of natural law.”
The wind picked up and Stalbridge looked up. Enormous grey clouds swirled in the upper atmosphere. He shaded his eyes against the sun and squinted. The speed at which they were forming was incredible. He blew another smoke ring lazily over the edge of the building.
