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"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.  

Lindsay looked outside at the street directly in front of the Western Union office.  Cars began to crash into one another.  People ran down the street screaming. A man was in the street trying to pry open a manhole cover so he could escape down into the sewer.

Lindsay had managed to distract her children from the horror around them.  She had learned from the best.  William could transform an upset, crying child into a happy smiling one in no time flat.  

Suddenly, the night sky was filled with a blinding flash that turned the darkness into daylight. A feeling of calm and joy washed over Lindsay. So this was how people went to heaven. They followed a bright light to the pearly gates of heaven into the arms of Jesus; all their loved ones that had passed before them were there to welcome them. Lindsay was thankful that it was over and relieved that neither she nor her children felt any pain.  She closed her eyes and knew that when she opened them, she would be in heaven.  She hugged her children tighter and opened her eyes.

Darkness.  Screaming.  Crying.

Lindsay was not at the gates of heaven.  She was still sitting on the floor of the Western Union.  The world around her was completely black.  She waited and waited for her eyes to adjust, but they never did. Her children began to claw at her, digging their hands into her sides.  As they called out for her, she gently stroked their hair and shushed their cries

"Phone's dead.  Computer won't turn back on."

Lindsay pried her children from her sides.  The two children hugged each other and continued to cry.  Lindsay felt her way along the wall to the front door and found the light switch.

"Power must be out.  Hey, John, get your smartphone out, we can use the light from the screen to see what we’re doing."

"Yeah, hold on. Good idea."  Lindsay could hear him fumbling around the countertop.  "What the hell?  My phone’s dead, too.  Damn thing was on eighty percent a few minutes ago."

"You got a lighter or a match?"

"No, shit, I wish I did.  This is getting freaky."

"You hear that?" asked Lindsay.

"Yeah, what is that?" replied John.

A low rumble filled the air and rattled the windows.  Then in an instant, the rumble became a deafening, ear-splitting roar that sounded like a wrecking ball knocking a train from the track at full speed.   The building shook and the glass wall at the front of the Western Union shattered and blew inward.  Lindsay's children were thrown into the counter.  Lindsay and John were knocked off their feet and hit the wall behind them.

Lindsay recovered and sat up to take inventory of herself.  She wasn't bleeding and didn't feel the sharp pain of a broken bone.  She crawled on the floor, desperately clawing for her children.  "Brent?  Heather?  You guys okay?"

"That was fun!" screamed Brent.

Heather was crying. "Mommy, that scared me!"

Lindsay quickly ran her hands over their bodies to see if they were injured, delighted to find them both no worse for wear.  She looked toward the street and could finally see light.  The source of the light was not a street lamp or the headlights of a car.  It was from a fire.

A passenger jet had fallen from the sky.

The Great Empire of Iran had detonated a nuclear warhead high in the atmosphere. The electromagnetic pulse destroyed every circuit board on every electronic device in its range. Every piece of technology, from a clock radio to the life support systems keeping patients alive in hospitals, stopped working.  Every computer, every smartphone, every television, every piece of machinery man depended on ceased functioning at precisely the same millisecond.

From the eastern shores of the United States to the Great Plains, down to North Texas, and into the northern half of the Gulf States, every electronic item was fried and useless.  Countless automobile accidents took thousands of lives as vehicles lost power. Surgical wards were thrown into darkness, only to lose patients. Hundreds of aircraft, from passenger jets to helicopters, fell out of the sky, killing thousands and starting fires that only Mother Nature could extinguish.   The only saving grace was the fact that few people could afford to fly. Millions of people were instantly left penniless, their finances not in physical cash but in useless bank accounts.  Frightened Americans were instantly thrown backwards into an era that was completely alien to them - an era before electricity, technology, and comfort. They had no means of communicating with each other because they couldn't pick up a phone or turn on a computer.  They couldn't travel to a local store to buy food and water. Emergency services were brought to a standstill. Before the sun rose the next morning, chaos would become a way of life.

The Silent Warriors of the Empire had no idea that the night sky would be illuminated by the Star of Allah.  Along with their vague instructions to "improvise and be creative,” they were also told to await the Day of Judgment.  The Silent Warriors who saw the broadcast of the 
Habibollah Sayyari
launching her payload knew the Day of Judgment was at hand.  They knew that in the coming chaos they would be able to operate out in the open and strike a serious blow to the enemy.

The arrogant nation would know humility for the first time.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

“Hold still, Billy, this is gonna hurt. A lot.”

“Hurry the fuck up! Shit! Just do it already!”

Inmates Richard “Killer” Dupree and Billy “Tank” Bratchett were in an abandoned gas station some twenty miles west of Las Vegas. Tank was near death. In his day, the giant had killed many people who had tried to take his life. In one of those epic battles, Tank’s left eye was severely injured when a chunk of his cheek was torn from his face.

Richard had done everything he could think of to help Tank. The pressure from the compress he’d put over Tank’s eye kept the pain bearable enough to keep him moving. They had precious little water to waste on the compress but had little choice but to keep the bandage moist enough to keep his eye lubricated. The eye was horribly infected. It had swollen completely shut and was oozing pus. Tank had a fever that was getting higher by the day. If Richard didn’t get the infection and under control soon, Tank was going to die.

Once they had survived the smoky escape from the Highland Valley State Prison, they realized that the escape itself was child’s play compared to the journey into hell that followed. The stolen perimeter vehicle with two flat tires traveled further than they anticipated. With the sun setting and a prison full of dead inmates behind them to keep the authorities busy, they drove the SUV as slowly and as carefully as they could, keeping it under ten miles an hour. They only came upon rough terrain occasionally; the rest of the trip was on flat desert floor. After ten miles of chewed rubber, they had to cut away what was left of the tires. After that, even in four-wheel drive, the rims just cut deeper and deeper into the dirt. Their stolen escape car got them less than thirteen miles away from the prison. They had to figure out the other thirty-five or so to Vegas on their own.

Spider didn’t come along for the journey; he parted ways with Richard and Billy once it became obvious that they weren’t heading down toward Highland Valley. Richard knew they wouldn’t stand a chance going into the town. They would not be taken into custody, they would be shot dead on sight, no questions asked. If Richard and his tattooed friends wandered into town in their orange jumpsuits, they would not be alive for very long.

Spider was arrogant enough to think he knew better than Richard. He didn’t really have much of a plan; he was just going to wing it. He had lost all faith in Richard after Head died. Spider blamed Richard for Head’s death; if he hadn’t wasted so much time when he should have been looking for the SUV, Head would still be alive.

Spider wandered into Highland Valley in the dark of night. He slipped into a dumpster behind a restaurant and slept the rest of the night, completely exhausted. When he awoke – thinking it was Saturday – he wandered behind the elementary school, certain that he was completely alone. For the first time since the escape, he let the thrill of freedom really sink in. It was time to relax and enjoy the gift he had been given. Spider sat down on a swing and began to push himself as high as he could, back and forth, laughing and hollering like a schoolboy. Little did he know, about a hundred eyes were on him the entire time as many students got up out of their seats and walked to the window to see what on earth was going on. Frightened teachers called the police as some fourth and fifth graders took pictures and texted them to their parents. Dozens of parents showed up at the school, strung Spider up to the swing set like a piñata and beat him to death.

Richard and Tank continued across the desert. When the SUV could move no further, they stayed in the vehicle for the rest of the day for shelter, gladly sucking up the nice, cool air conditioning. When the blistering sun went down and the temperature dropped, they searched the surrounding area for any available resources. They could see a low mountain range to the east, but with no frame of reference, they had no idea how far away it was. It could have been two miles or twenty. Seeing it as their only way out of the desert, they made the journey in under an hour. Richard was happy that they still had the SUV to go back to if they struck out before the sun came back up. Before they left the SUV, they stripped it of everything that might be useful.  The guard who abandoned the vehicle left behind his backpack containing a full bottle of Gatorade, some chips, candy, beef jerky, and a mini-sized bottle of hand sanitizer.  The grand prizes in the backpack were a cigarette lighter and a four-inch folding knife. 

Richard unfolded the knife and cut away the upholstery from the floor of the SUV.  He then popped the hood and had Tank remove the windshield wiper fluid tank and the air filter. 

They loaded up their gear and climbed the four thousand feet to the summit of the mountain to set up camp. For the first time in many years, Richard was at perfect peace with the world. He wasn’t tortured by the image of his crying, naked son trembling in shame. He wasn’t tortured over the fact that he had brutally murdered a man in front of his six-year-old son, psychologically scarring him for life. He looked up and saw an endless sky full of stars; he couldn’t tear his eyes away from it. Once he had his fill of the celestial masterpiece, he focused on the terrain in front of them. The stars not only served to calm his troubled soul, they lit up the desert floor like a giant flashlight. He could see the shimmering reflection of a stream. Good, they wouldn’t have to return to the SUV and devise another plan. They could survive without food for some time; without water, they would be dead in a matter of days in the unforgiving heat of the desert.

“Where are we going, Richard?” Tank sat up and pressed his swollen eye.

“I’m not sure.”

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?” Richard turned around, genuinely shocked.

“You always know exactly what you’re doing. You never make a decision without considering every option.”

“True.” Richard was surprised; he didn’t realize Tank paid attention to anything.

“So, you gonna tell me or not?”

“Denver.”

“Are you fucking serious? Vegas isn’t good enough for you? What the hell’s in Denver?”

“My kids, I hope.” Richard had not spoken of his children in years.

“You don’t know where your kids are?”

“They were there a year ago.”

“That’s fucked up, man. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.”

“Who are you, Richard?”

“What?” Richard was starting to wonder if he really knew Billy Bratchett.

“Cut the shit. I never asked inside because I didn’t need to know. All I needed to know inside was you ain’t no punk bitch and you ain’t no snitch. The fact that you hate niggers same as me meant I didn’t care about the rest.”

“So why now?”

“Well, inside we had twenty years. Now, well, we ain’t spending twenty years together.”

“Billy, how many times you heard me say the word ‘nigger’?”

“I don’t think you’ve ever said it, now that I think about it.”

“Ever strike you as odd?”

“Not really. You beat two niggers to death with your bare hands. Beatin’ a nigger to death in his own church? Shit. I’m surprised you didn’t burn the mother fucker down afterwards.”

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?”

“I thought you knew the whole story.”

“I had my cousin dig up what he could on you. Told me you got twenty-five years for killing two niggers. Laughed his ass off telling me about the first one.”

“Your cousin a sharp guy?”

“Hell no, he’s an idiot.”

“I walked in on an old black man watching a room full of naked children play while he jerked off. Both my kids were in the room.”

“No fucking way. What’d you do to him?” Tank inquired with much anger.

“Broke his neck and ripped his balls off.”

“You really ripped his balls off?” Tank screamed.

“Well, in a manner of speaking. They didn’t really come off, just busted ‘em open really good.”

“That is so fucking awesome! Holy shit, I can’t believe it!”

Richard shook his head. “No, no. Not something I’m proud of. It happened in front of my kid. Really screwed him up.”

“Shit, man. Sorry. That’s rough.”

“So you killed another guy? He try to stick up for the baby-raper?”

“Nope, that one was an accident. I’m surprised you never asked me about this. Why didn’t you?”

“Tell me about the accident and I’ll tell you.”

“Fair enough. Before I went to trial I escaped from the county jail.”

“Kinda figured that. Wouldn’t be sent to Highland Valley straight from the world without at least one escape under your belt.”

“Again, you never asked?”

“Didn’t need to, remember? Didn’t care inside, knew everything I needed to know. Don’t change the subject, fucker, keep talking!”

“Well, I escaped before my trial. Needed to get my kids away from my ex-wife and get out of the country.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Look, I’m not even gonna try to pretend like it was her fault. I’m not gonna deny that I’m the one that screwed up my kids, but she didn’t lift a damn finger to get our boy any help. She just figured that if she ignored the problem, he would turn out fine. And she completely erased me from my daughter’s memory! My baby girl started calling another asshole ‘Daddy.’ No way I could let that happen.”

“Damn! That’s fucked up! Who was this asshole?”

“Guy my wife was cheating on me with.”

“I’d escape just to kill that fucker.”

“The thought did cross my mind. Her new husband had a hard time dealing with my kids. Too much baggage so he divorced her not long after.  She couldn't deal with it and started smoking oxy.  It was only a matter of time before the kids got hurt or the state came in to take them away. No way was that happening, so I escaped to go and get them."

“OK, so how’d you end up killing another nigger?”

“Well, I had to lay low after the escape. Made it up into the mountains. Actually lived up there about a month hoping they’d look for me someplace else. One morning I was fishing and two hikers happened up on me. Can’t believe I let them sneak up on me. Thought I was way out of the path of any hikers. Well, anyway, I thought I had them believing my story. I knew the instant one of them recognized me. Could see it on his face. He knew that I knew, and things got ugly. They were scared to death of me. I tried to calm them down, and I was so close to convincing them to just walk away and pretend they never saw me. One of the guys got spooked and started running. I tried to stop him, but he got even more freaked out. He fell down the hill and got impaled by a broken tree branch. His lung collapsed and he was bleeding out. I did everything I could to save his life but it was too late. I didn’t even notice his friend had run off, convinced I’d murdered his buddy. Once the guy died, I took off, but it was too late. They knew exactly where I was and caught me.”

“You tried to fucking save him?”

“I did. You got a problem with that?’

“Yeah, I got a big fucking problem with that, you know I do. But you saved my life and that trumps shit every time. And you still killed a nigger baby-raper. That pretty much squares things with me. You got convicted of killing that piece of shit?”

“Well, the charges stacked up pretty quick - escape, assaulting a peace officer, bit a guy’s ear off when I stole the ambulance; they got me on serious assault for that one. Grand theft auto for stealing the ambulance. But the second murder was what sealed my fate. The guy lied on me, said I attacked his friend and pushed him down the hill into the branch. Left out the part about me trying to save his life.”

“That’s a true nigger for ya right there.”

They were both silent for a few minutes.  Richard was going over the plan for tomorrow in his head when Tank asked, "How are we getting all the way to Denver?"

"We have to find a car when we start getting closer to Vegas.  We can't actually enter the city with the National Guard checkpoints.  Our primary focus right now is water.  We have enough food, but we won't make it long without fresh water." The two escapees still had plenty of food, thanks to the stash Spider had found in that empty cell before they made their escape. Water was another issue.

"You think it's safe to drink water outta that stream down there?  No telling what kind of shit’s in that water."

"I can make it safe to drink."

"I knew you were gonna say that."

The two men settled in and managed to sleep a few hours before the sun started to peek up above the horizon. They climbed down the other side of the ridge and prepared to hike across the desert floor to the riverbed.  Richard dug out the extra laundry they’d brought with them and fashioned it into desert gear.  They stripped down to their boxers and each draped a bed sheet over their bodies like a robe. They also covered their faces with a white t-shirt to help filter the dust.

"You ready?" asked Richard.

"Let's get some water; I'm ready to start drinking my piss. I'm that thirsty."

"OK, move at a nice, steady pace.  Focus on moving forward with as much efficiency as you can, using the least amount of muscle power.  Breathe through your nose and keep your mouth shut.  Don’t talk unless it’s totally necessary."