Nuclear Spring

by Td Barnes

  “Dawson, why in the hell did I let Colonel Bradley steal you from me? If I you, I could spend my day on the golf course.”

  “Stick around, Major. I’ll be yours when you inherit those silver birds.” He laughed and strolled back into the War Room where he woke the two colonels before rushing to the latrine to relieve his bladder. Dawson repeated the situational update to Bradley when he wandered in.

  “Mitchell, what’s with the frown,” Callahan asked from the conference table where he and the others were eating their breakfast.

  “I am receiving some crazy shit from the satellite this morning.”

  “Well, Charlie, that tells us a hell of a lot,” Bradley teased before taking a sip of coffee. “You know the saying that shit happens.”

  Bradley realized this must be something serious when Mitchell did not answer. Taking his coffee with him, he walked over to his socked feet and sat down beside Mitchell. “What’s happening?”

  Mitchell pointed to what was the jet stream that they were monitoring. He then moved the laser beam to point to what appeared to be another jet stream a bit higher and farther away. “See this anomaly? It wasn’t there two hours ago.”

  Bradley frowned. “What is it?”

  “Beats the hell out of me. I have never seen anything like this before. It looks like some high altitude disturbance is developing and I mean developing fast. It appears to the upper-level wind currents are dipping our way. This could influence the jet stream on which we have been basing our weather.”

  “Fuck!” If so, how much time do we have and what can we expect?”

  “Give me a few minutes to receive new data to extrapolate from.” He sounded rushed, and obvious concern showed on his face.

  The others who heard the exchange hurried to put on their boots. Bradley rushed from Mitchell’s side to his cot to do the same.

  In the radio room, Dawson noticed the activity and realized that something was up. She flipped the switch from mute back to the speaker and slipped out of the War Room where she approached the duty officer to alert him.

  “Sir, I think something is up. I suggest you contact mess hall to pick up the breakfast utensils and have someone remove the cots out of the War Room. We should tidy it back to operational use.” In the background, the mountain pager that never slept switched from music to a routine page followed by the morning’s activities schedule.

  For the next hour, everyone in the War Room agonized with not knowing the timing and extent of the threat of the approaching fallout or the status of their troops in the field. More than once, each of them alternated from staring at the radio speakers as though that might bring news from the field, and the Mt. Charleston remote camera monitor to see the movement of any kind. They saw nothing but rows of private planes, Lear Jets, and Citations parked from before the EMP. At either end of the runway, the camera depicted debris where two planes crashed when the EMP struck.

  I have an update on the weather front,” Mitchell called into the radio room. He projected his graphic on the big screen while waiting for the arrival of all three officers. “The jet stream has split into two streams due to the formation of an upper-level closed low. This is diverting this portion of the jet stream here in this dark area just above us while the remainder of the jet stream moves by to its north. Note, the Los Angeles area.” He circled the location on the weather graphic with his laser pointer. “This suggests we still have raging firestorms in that region from the bombs. The hot air is drawing the air streams.” He moved his laser to outline a similar area in Canada above Michigan. “This is another massive firestorm that is pushing the upper jet stream back to the west. This accounts for the sudden appearance of the second stream dipping down on us.”

  “Damn it, Charley. Cut the whys and give some whens and how much. We have troops in the field, you know.”

  Mitchell understood and disregarded Bradley’s irritation and concern. “I am not going to bullshit you with weatherman wizardry. I do not know what to tell you as to the extent of the winter that is swooping down on us. In normal times, a jet stream would be a narrow, variable band of unyielding, predominantly westerly air currents encircling the globe several miles above the earth. There are typically two or three jet streams in each of the northern and southern hemispheres. At present, the wind currents are moving over 300 miles per hour. I have never seen the wind currents flowing at that velocity. The front being pushed down on us is moving at a rate of 45 miles per hour.” He calculated the nautical rate in his head and expressed his conclusion with an audible release of his breath.

  “Gentlemen, and ma’am, we have three hours to lock down the mountain.”

  For a moment, all three officers stood stunned by the implications of what this meant.

  “The south portal,” Barlow exclaimed. “We are still repairing the damage and cannot close the door.”

  Callahan did not hesitate. “I’ll have our Corps of Engineers squad shove the door and everything into the portal and seal the entrance by blasting the rock on the mountain to seal it with another landslide.” He turned to Bradley. “Sir, if you will tend to recall the troops and bringing in the perimeter guards, I’ll deal with the south portal.”

  Callahan slung his weapon and headed for the exit, stopping when Bradley whispered, “Hold up, Major.” Bradley met him halfway and said, “Have Captain Bronson or Ray bring the Grizzly and the Beast here to the North Portal. Otherwise, blocking the portal will make them worthless should we need them. I also recommend you have your people perform one last check of the outside cameras, motion detectors, and that new perimeter system that we brought from Groom Lake.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Mitchell spoke up before Callahan, and the others dispersed to deal with this unexpected turn of events. “Word of caution, people. Behind this weather front, we can expect extreme cool arctic air. There will be hell to pay when it hits our warm air. Expect this front to produce horrible straight winds and tornados as we have never experienced before.”

  Bradley picked up the microphone to abort the recon of the airports. He realized the abort is denying the mountain of intelligence need to prepare for the next break in the weather. At the same time, he realized the unexpected change in climate would catch the enemy off guard and accomplish what this mission could not. The weather would prevent anyone arriving not being able to escape the storm. His thoughts moved to those in Las Vegas who had already survived four years of nuclear winter. How could they survive another?

  “Ghost Rider Base to all Ghost Rider units—acknowledge.”

  The call from the mountain surprised all the teams. It caught the shopping detail as its two laden trucks approached Lathrop Wells. Not having a Ghost Rider designated number, the sergeant in charge improvised. “Ghost Rider Delivery ETA your location thirty minutes.”

  “Roger Ghost Rider Delivery. Please proceed.”

  Each of the Ghost Rider detail acknowledged the call.

  “Ghost Rider, be advised of weather abort. I repeat hazardous weather abort. Proceed to base with all haste.”

  “Ghost Rider one, Affirmative.”

  After a pause, Ghost Rider three reported in followed by Ghost Rider four and five.

  “Ghost Rider two, do you copy?”

  “Ghost Rider Two. Please standby. We have a plane crossing over the dam.”

  “Roger Two. Monitor and advise.” Bradley looked at the time and outside radiation count as he weighed the situation.

  “Base—Ghost Rider Two. Be advised plane is foreign and is wheels down with ETA five minutes at Ghost Rider One location.” He saw Mitchell run to the Mt. Charleston camera remote. He slewed the camera to the preset coordinates of the Nellis AFB and moved the camera around to locate the incoming plane. The plane was flying at a low altitude on a known path, and close in, enabling him to find it almost instantly. “I have the bogey on camera,” Mitchell announced. “It is an Egyptian Air C-130.”

  Bradley continued, “Roger, Ghost Rider Two. Mi
ssion concluded. Report to base. Ghost Rider One, state your ordnance.”

  “Ghost Rider One. Standard personnel weapons, one explosive charge, turret gun, and one FIM-92.”

  “Weapons confirmed. Advise ability to engage FIM-92,” referring to the Raytheon surface-to-air Stinger Missile.

  “Affirmative, Base. Position favorable for deployment.”

  “Deploy weapon at will and return to base.”

  Almost afterward, Bradley received the call.

  “Ghost Rider Base, Ghost Rider One. Be advised of weapon deployed and target destroyed. Ghost Rider One is returning to base.”

  Bradley listened to Dawson acknowledging the call and signing off. He turned to Barlow. “Colonel, alert the mountain of the situation and prepare for a lockdown of the mountain.” As a second thought, he added, “I suggest we organize a special dinner tonight to welcome our returning soldiers and to soften the effect of our going from a nuclear spring back into nuclear winter. Keep our people occupied to maintain a high level of morale.

  The mountain received one last radio message from the detail reporting all units leaving the Lee Canyon cutoff and headed home. Never in his life, Bradley missed having GPS capability that the next hour and a half that it took for the detail to return home to the north portal. The arrival of the two trucks loaded with supplies shortened the wait. With the south portal blocked, Bradley elected to have the trucks parked inside the north portal behind the guard station. Upon arrival, the officer of the day directed the five JLTVs into the entrance. The portal door clanged shut as the last soldier dismounted from his JLTV.

  ####

  Callahan and Barlow left the War Room to tend to their duties, and to allow Bradley time and opportunity to assess the unexpected return of the nuclear winter conditions. He positioned one of the cams outside the south portal and watched the engineers place an explosive above the face of the south portal and the blast that released a rockslide that covered the entrance.

  Once the dust settled, a loader outside the portal began shaping the rock face to ensure complete coverage of the entrance. Seeing the loader operator finish and head in the direction of the north portal, he walked outside the alcove to alert the guards to open the door to let the loader enter. He walked outside the portal to an overcast sky. The mountain blocked his view to the north; however, he could see the massive storm front to the northeast of the mountain.

  The duty officer joined him in watching the approaching storm develop into a black wall displaying massive lightning strikes.

  “Enjoy the moment, Lieutenant,” Bradley whispered. “We may not get to do this again for months, or even years.”

  “We can handle it, sir.”

  Bradley laughed. “I don’t believe we will have any other options...” “Oh, shit!” He said. “It looks like the Aurora is returning. That kicks our radio capabilities in the ass.”

  “Does that mean bad TV reception as well?” The Lieutenant joked. His joking mood turned somber when it dawned on him that he most likely would never watch television again.

  “Not to worry, Lieutenant. “We have thousands of recorded television reruns in the archive library that we can watch on our computers.”

  “Sir, I can’t imagine what the people are going through elsewhere. We are the only ones in the world that have electricity, and as you said, recorded television shows that we can watch on a computer.”

  “Lieutenant, I plan to speak to our people after dinner tonight. I like what you just said. I’ll use it, or better yet, have you pump up their spirits by repeating it for the others. We are fortunate. Hell, son. You have even lifted my morale.”

  He followed the loader into the mountain, feeling a bit better about their situation even after hearing the door clang shut and the lock engage. That is when they noticed Christmas holiday music playing on the paging system following an announcement inviting everyone inside the mountain to a victory dinner and party starting at 1800 hours.

  To say that the return of winter began with a bang was not an understatement. It started with the massive door rattling against a gusting 90 MPH wind, followed by blackened rain flying with the wind. Almost constant lightning strikes showed on the external camera monitors and the day turned to instant night so dense it hid the Aurora lights in the heavens and many tornados where storms rarely ever occurred before the bombs. Out of the sky and into the raging wind came a large chunk of black ice that banged into the vertical air intake, causing a horrible banging sound that carried through the air duct throughout the mountain. Black, radioactive, freezing sleet followed, turning the ground outside black.

  Bradley, Mitchell, and Dawson could hear the sleet striking the door and air intake all the way in the War Room. “This sounds like fireplace weather to me,” Mitchell commented.

  “Fireplace,” Bradley thought, forming a revolutionary idea in his mind. Sammie saluted the collage as she stepped into the War Room where he continued mulling the thought in his mind.

  “Damn, that was a doozy,” she said, referring to the bank. She looked at the radiation count and then the outdoor camera monitor. “It’s getting hot out there,” she said, referring to the radiation count. “Seeing the screen makes me want to dig out the long Johns.”

  Seeing no one looking, she gave her father a smooch on his cheek. “Just checking to see if anyone would like some entertainment after dinner. I can bring the Maori singers and dancers.”

  “I’m for it. Check with Colonel Barlow to see if she can fit it in. I’m not sure what she is planning.”

  “Will do. I am here to check on my weapons to check their tarp covers. Dad, I’m glad to have it here instead of the south portal.” He knew why without her saying it. Ever since losing Stacey, he could not bear going to the south portal either. However, that might change with what he in mind.

  Bradley saw on the big screen the streaming data now being intermittent and broken bits of trash data. “Magnetic interference?” he asked Mitchell.

  “Affirmative, sir. I am out of business.’

  “How about you, Dawson. Do you still have radio functions?”

  “Negative, sir. I am receiving only atmospheric interference on the radios and the Mt. Charleston camera.”

  “Shut them down,” he ordered. “We have a party to attend.”

  Colonel Barlow saw Bradley arriving at the mess hall and caught him before he entered.

  “Sir, I have added a table to yours. Sergeant Griffin is out of the hospital. The Ghost Rider squad and he will sit with you tonight. The combatants on the earlier patrols will sit with me. Sammie is providing a bit of entertainment, and I assume that you want to address the people.”

  “How is the morale?”

  “Mixed. No, let’s change that to high with all considered.”

  Many, having not seen one another since the picnic, greeted one another like family, comparing notes on things since they last met. It developed into a party while they ate and mingled afterward. On cue from Colonel Barlow, Sammie brought everyone back to their seats when her young kids began their Maori dance and chants that provided entertainment for both young and the adults for the past two years. She finished her show, handing off to Colonel Bradley a very hyped up audience. He hoped to elevate their moods even more.

  Bradley stood up and waved his hand to focus his comment on those seated at his table. “I have commanded many troops in combat, but I have never been prouder than I am tonight to introduce our latest heroes.” He introduced each of the soldiers along with a brief synopsis of his career. Each received a standing ovation.

  Bradley changed his focus to the other tables. “There are many heroes here inside the mountain. Sitting at Colonel Barlow’s table is the squad ambushed in North Las Vegas, where Sergeant Stratton here beside me sustained wounds, and Staff Sergeant Jess Harper whom the enemy captured and executed. Sitting at the next table were Captain Bronson and Mr. Bronson, who took out an entire squad of Jihadists attempting to breach the south portal. Also, sittin
g at the Bronson table is our heroes who eliminated the Jihadist holdout at Hoover Dam.”

  He paused again to allow the applause to die down. He gazed around the room. “I am looking at more heroes than I can personally name. I am talking about all of you who responded to the bombing of the south portal where we lost many of our precious members. The effort of this entire mountain family was Herculean. You can all feel very proud of a job well done. I might add that Captain Bronson deserves kudos for dispatching the bomber to his virgins in Allah heaven.”

  Again, he to pause until the crowd settled down. “This brings me to a delicate topic that we cannot kick down the road. We know that we must defend the mountain and our way of life from Islamic Jihadist extremists. Because of these extremists, we at times condemn an entire religion, the Muslim faith. That is wrong and in most cases done out of ignorance. We tend to forget that we thought that all Russian were bad during the Cold War. The world is full of the evil of all religious beliefs which justify their evil by manipulating their religion.”

  He looked over the crowd at the children. “We must not pass the religious prejudices that placed us in this mountain on to our youth. We have a Muslim family here inside the mountain, and they are just as American as any of you. Do not get me wrong. I am not playing the political correctness game. I’m just saying that I hope all of you will deal with facts and not be blinded by prejudice beliefs.”

  Bradley could tell that he was not getting through to some of his people. “Look, everyone. At present, we are at war with the Muslim Brotherhood who uses terrorism to convert entire nations to their religion. Their target is the whole world. Our people returned from battle today and like will come back to the battlefield the first day that we can leave the mountain again. Religious wars like this are as old as mankind and in every war; civilians have died from diseases, famine, battle, massacres, and genocide. In 1095, two million perished in the Holy Land and Europe Crusades between Islam and Christians. Over four million died during the French War of Religions between the Protestants and Catholics. In the 1600s, they went at it again and killed over 11 million during the Holy Roman Empire’s Thirty Years’ War. In 1975, a war among Sunni, Shiite, and Christians in Lebanon during the Lebanese Civil War killed 250,000. In 1967, the Nigerian Civil War between Islam and Christians killed three million, and six years later, they murdered another two million during the Second Sudanese Civil War in Sudan. My point is that almost every dominant religion expanded through acts of war. An evil religious movement in the name of that religion does not make the entire religion bad.”