Apocalypse Trails: Episode 1 Read online

  Apocalypse Trails

  Episode 1

  By

  Joe Nobody

  Copyright © 2016

  Kemah Bay Marketing, LLC

  All rights reserved.

  Edited by:

  E. T. Ivester

  www.joenobodybooks.com

  This is a work of fiction. Characters and events are products of the author’s imagination, and no relationship to any living person is implied. The locations, facilities, and geographical references are set in a fictional environment.

  Other Books by Joe Nobody:

  Secession: The Storm

  Secession II: The Flood

  Secession III: The Surge

  The Archangel Drones

  Holding Your Ground: Preparing for Defense if it All Falls Apart

  The TEOTWAWKI Tuxedo: Formal Survival Attire

  Without Rule of Law: Advanced Skills to Help You Survive

  Holding Their Own: A Story of Survival

  Holding Their Own II: The Independents

  Holding Their Own III: Pedestals of Ash

  Holding Their Own IV: The Ascent

  Holding Their Own V: The Alpha Chronicles

  Holding Their Own VI: Bishop’s Song

  Holding Their Own VII: Phoenix Star

  Holding Their Own VII: The Directives

  Holding Their Own IX: The Salt War

  Holding Their Own X: The Toymaker

  Holding Their Own XI: Hearts and Minds

  Holding Their Own XII: Copperheads

  The Home Schooled Shootist: Training to Fight with a Carbine

  Apocalypse Drift

  The Little River Otter

  The Olympus Device: Book One

  The Olympus Device: Book Two

  The Olympus Device: Book Three

  The Ebola Wall

  Prologue

  Zhang’s intensity as he watched the computer display surprised no one in the ultra-modern control room. His celebrated, global reputation as an accomplished engineer and scientist practically demanded such focus. The fact that he was monitoring one of the world’s most destructive devices, a machine of his own invention, only seemed fitting.

  Less than a mile away, under 160 feet of the bedrock lining the bottom of the South China Sea, Zhang’s sonic bore pulverized the earth at an unprecedented rate. “The European Channel will pale in comparison to my little industrial project,” he smiled to himself as he adjusted the control. “And the amateurish nature of the Three Rivers Dam will have my peers speculating that it was designed by a three-year-old with Tinker Toys.”

  Building any undersea passageway was a massive operation. Boring what would, by far, constitute the planet’s longest and deepest subterranean tunnel increased the level of difficulty several fold. Conducting the entire operation in secret bordered on the edge of insanity.

  Were it not for Zhang’s brilliant design and the vast resources of the People’s Republic, the sheer scope of the endeavor would have been impossible. But impossible was a word that the Chinese eliminated from their engineering mindset over 2,000 years ago with the construction of the Great Wall. The way Zhang saw things, he was merely honoring his ancestors with the development of his revolutionary technology.

  Ultra-low frequency waves driven by a massive electronic infrastructure had been studied for years. Their utilization as an instrument for mining had long ago been dismissed as too expensive and impractical. Explosives and earth-moving equipment were far less costly and readily available.

  Removing millions of metric tons of earth from beneath the sea’s floor, however, was a far more complex challenge than extracting coal or iron ore from an inland vein. The pressures and temperatures were off the scale, as were the distances and logistics involved. Were it not for Beijing’s requirement to preserve the project’s covert nature, Zhang’s design would have never seen the light of day, let alone received the billions and billions in funding required to bring his models and designs into real, working, tools.

  Beijing wanted the South China Sea to be the sole and exclusive property of the People’s Republic. The ownership rights of the mineral, petrochemical, trade, and strategic resources contained in, and under, that body of water were hotly contested and strongly desired by every nation in the region.

  In the face of growing international opposition and intensifying geopolitical scrutiny, China had adopted an age-old strategy for pursuing its goal. The People’s Republic would occupy land. Plant the flag on dry dirt. Hold the high ground. Exercise the old adage that possession was nine-tenths of the law.

  Initially, the concept had been to raise and expand existing islands and reefs. Fleets of dredges and custom-built ships had launched from China’s ports, sucking sand and soil from the seafloor and dumping the silt atop small atolls and archipelagos to create new, manmade real estate.

  The effort was slow and expensive. Storms ravaged the area, and the longevity of the artificial masses was unproven. A better and faster solution was needed, and Zhang had the answer.

  Driven by millions of watts of electrical energy, the scientist’s apparatus punched sound through the fissures and cracks of the granite substrate. Solid rock cracked and crumbled like sandstone, making it much easier to remove. Not only was the method safer and expedient, it was quiet and non-intrusive, the perfect solution to Beijing’s clandestine motives.

  Or, at least it should have been.

  Heady with their progress and apprehensive about growing global suspicions, the People’s Party had demanded that Zhang increase the pace of the excavation. Despite the scientist’s warnings, Beijing ordered that the engineer’s machines be ramped up to their full design capacity.

  The engineer had pleaded with the Ministers of Defense, Interior, and every other government official he could think of. “We risk failure if we push the envelope that far. We risk discovery if we increase the power being surged through the rock. There’s not been enough data collected to understand all of the ramifications,” he had pleaded.

  His arguments fell on deaf ears. Zhang’s sonic drills were not only establishing a new precedent for tunneling speed, they were producing tens of thousands of metric tons of high-quality rock that would eventually shape even larger land masses where only ocean had existed before.

  Rail lines and motor traffic would utilize his undersea passage to haul record amounts of manpower, equipment, and freight. Entire cities would rise from islands where nothing but waves and coral had existed before. Major military complexes could be constructed, with assets being moved between the mainland and China’s new territory in secret. Rather than conquer new lands, Beijing was building them.

  At a desk opposite to Zhang’s computer, a bright red phone flashed in annoyance. It was answered immediately by a man wearing a formal military uniform, a colonel in the People’s Army. “Yes?”

  “Shut down the system, immediately. Our sensors have detected an unknown presence above the tunnel. We believe it is an American submarine that has penetrated our security zone. Shut it down! Now!”

  “Yes, sir,” replied the colonel, quickly returning the phone to its cradle.

  He rose with purpose, hustling past the rows of technicians in their white smocks. A moment later, he was peering over Zhang’s shoulder.

  “Chief Engineer Zhang Boqu, I have orders from Central Command. We are to shut down the drilling apparatus immediately. There has been a security breach.”

  Blinking from behind his thick glasses, Zhang seemed to have trouble digesting the military officer’s words. “Huh? Shut it down? I don’t understand, Colonel.”

  In a heartbeat, the colonel’s face flushed crimson with the heat of anger. “I just got off the emergency line with Beij
ing, Chief Engineer. They have ordered an emergency shut-down of this equipment. Do it, please. Now.”

  “But … but … we can’t just shut it down,” Zhang protested, his hands spreading wide to incorporate the control room. “We’ve never done that. It will take some time. Things must be done in the right order.”

  The officer was having none of it. “Do it, sir. Right now. This is an emergency. If you do not comply, I will call the main electrical relay station and have them cut the power. Do you understand?”

  “If you do that, you could potentially damage our equipment, or worse yet, cause a backlash by disabling the vibration damping system. I will start the process, but it is going to require some time to properly execute this mandate.”

  “How long?”

  “At least 12 hours, Colonel. Maybe more. It must be done gradually.”

  The officer started to protest, but then held his tongue. Instead, he pivoted smartly and returned to his workstation. The red phone was at his ear in an instant.

  It took less than a minute for the colonel to repeat word for word his conversation with Zhang into the receiver. As he bellowed, he watched the scientist begin issuing hurried orders to his staff. The officer seemed to garner little satisfaction from the wave of energy and purpose that was spreading across the control room’s personnel like an incoming tide.

  “Hold the line,” the harried voice from Beijing instructed.

  As he waited, the colonel noticed considerable background noise at central command. A cacophony of desperate orders was being shouted back and forth. One voice screamed for the Red Navy to locate and destroy that submarine, other voices ordering aircraft to scramble and join the pursuit for the intruder.

  That sense of urgency was now taking hold in the control room, as well. The white lab coats were quickly darting to and fro, punching buttons and typing rapidly on keyboards. Sitting on hold, the colonel observed the flurry of activity while waiting for his own orders. Much ado about nothing, he thought, concluding that Zhang was behaving like a hen mothering her chicks when it came to his invention and team. After all, the ‘brainchild’ is really just an electrically powered machine – why not just cut the juice and switch it off?

  Evidently, Central Command reached the same conclusion at the same moment. The overhead lights flickered, immediately followed by several sharp curses from the surrounding control stations. The entire room then dimmed, only the emergency lights casting eerie shadows through the chamber.

  The colonel glanced up to see Zhang staring at him, the scientist’s eyes filled with hatred and foreboding. “What have you done? You idiot! Do you have any idea?”

  Such a challenge couldn’t go unanswered by a high-ranking member of the Chinese military. Returning Zhang’s steely gaze with one of equal loathing, the colonel rose and stomped toward the rebellious egghead.

  The colonel hadn’t managed three steps before the earth under his feet began to tremble. The disturbance continued to build, a distant rumbling seeming to swell from beneath the officer’s feet. The white coats were silent now, the engineers and programmers gawking at the walls with wide eyes and fearful, open mouths.

  A shock jolted through the stone floor, the vibration strong enough to knock a nearby water glass from its perch. Again, the earth convulsed, followed by agitation strong enough to sling several of the scientists to the floor.

  Bits of stone were now falling from the ceiling, larger chunks of rock tumbling from the walls. The bottom seemed to drop from under the colonel’s feet, only to bounce back up again with enough force to compress his spine.

  Hurled from his chair, Zhang spotted a jet of water blast through the tunnel’s ceiling. The stone floor pitched and heaved, rolling so violently it was impossible to regain his feet. In horror, he watched the stream grow thicker, the spray more powerful than any firetruck’s hose.

  Despite knowing he was about to die, Zhang’s mind was puzzled by the presence of the water. They were 80 feet under the sea floor. How could the ocean above be pouring in? It was impossible … unless….

  “God help us all,” the scientist whispered just as the tunnel collapsed.

  Chapter 1

  From a distance, the San Diego skyline appeared familiar and constant, the captain broadcasting the image throughout the boat’s array of internal information monitors. The bridge crew jockeyed for positioning, desperately seeking the best vantage to study that picture.

  Despite the dark, overcast, and low clouds of dense fog, the likeness of comb-like skyscrapers and hillside structures instantly quelled much of the scuttlebutt that had been making the rounds. No, their home port hadn’t been glassed over by a nuke. No, California hadn’t suffered a massive earthquake and slid into the sea. Commander Cisco felt a wave of relief wash over the bridge crew.

  The photonic mast mounted on the USS Utah’s sail was designed to replace traditional periscopes during times when the Virginia Class submarine was making a rare visit to shallow water. Equipped with a variety of cameras including infrared, light amplification, and old-fashioned magnification, the high-tech visual sensor system allowed for a stronger hull and was a far more capable lookout than any pair of human eyeballs.

  “Commander Cisco,” the captain’s voice sounded, “switch to infrared.”

  “Aye, sir, switching photonic to infrared.”

  Throughout the boat, the television monitors blurred momentarily, eventually displaying the same image, but in a rainbow assortment of colors. In the lower, right-hand corner, small white letters indicated ‘Red=Hot.’

  Yet, the display didn’t register anything red at all. The cityscape being scanned by Utah’s sophisticated sensors appeared to be cold. “That’s odd,” the captain mumbled. “Is there a malfunction, Commander? Is that fog interfering with our instruments?”

  Jack leaned over a seaman’s shoulder, studying a thick cluster of LED lights, gauges, buttons, and knobs. “No, sir, infrared penetrates fog, and everything appears to be functioning properly. But for some reason, the board is simply indicating green, sir.”

  San Diego, or any other city for that matter, should have been thick with heat. Windows, rooftop air conditioners, and automobile exhausts always registered hotter than their surrounding surfaces. Utah, gliding toward the submarine pins at the San Diego Naval Base, was well within range of the advanced circuitry to obtain accurate readings.

  “Restrict output to the bridge only,” the captain ordered, suddenly wondering if he had made a huge mistake by exposing the urban pictorial to the crew. “Run through the options. Let’s see if we can detect any signs of life.”

  “Aye, sir,” Cisco responded.

  The bridge crew watched as the operator began entering commands via the console’s keyboard. The screen on the high-definition monitor changed again and again. The color schemes, tones, and even the density of the pixels switched from one configuration to another. The result, however, was always the same. San Diego appeared lifeless, cold, unmoving.

  By now, the Utah’s skipper had moved to confer with his second in command. “Jack,” he whispered, “What in the hell is going on?”

  It was rare than Captain Ulrich used the commander’s first name in front of the crew, a sure sign the naval officer was troubled by what he saw.

  “No idea, sir,” Cisco replied. “Unfortunately, the data can have a logical explanation, though. We’ve not had any radio contact from COMSUBPAC for what – two months? Perhaps San Diego was evacuated for some reason. Maybe there was an EMP strike and communications are knocked out?” He was grasping, and both of the senior officers knew it.

  Neither of them seriously entertained the possibility of an equipment malfunction onboard. After all, the US Navy warship had survived vigorous testing before and during her construction. No, both Ulrich and Cisco knew the ship had gotten a clean bill of health before the US Navy had been handed her pink slip. Uncle Sam didn’t just hand over the keys to a $1.8 billion boat without making sure she was sound.

&
nbsp; The USS Utah was the newest of the nuclear-powered, fast attack class submarines, gradually replacing the aging fleet of Los Angeles boats. Publicly, she wasn’t scheduled to have been christened for another six months.

  The Pentagon, realizing the new boat was going to be completed well ahead of schedule, had seized upon an opportunity. Utah was launched from Electric Boat Works at just past 0300 hours, silently gliding out to sea without any offensive weapons and manned by only a skeleton crew. “Secret sea trials,” was the official explanation given to the dockworkers and construction management.

  However, the excursion amounted to far more than a test drive.

  China had been rattling its super-sized saber in the South China Sea for decades, claiming huge swaths of the secondary body of water. International outrage had grown especially intense in the months leading up to Utah’s stealthy departure.

  The world’s most populous nation had resorted to a remarkably creative approach in the matter, much to the dismay of the United States and her Asian allies. Disputes over offshore territories weren’t anything new, countries having bickered and battled over nautical borders since the recorded history of man. The Chinese, however, had refined their game to a whole other level.

  First had come the massive construction projects, converting seven submerged reefs into sizable islands. Next, the communist powerhouse had begun building military bases on the new landmasses. To say that worldwide tensions were heightened would have been an understatement.

  What had really sent alarm bells ringing all the way from Tokyo to Washington was a series of unusual seismic reports coming out of Japan’s intricate array of earthquake sensors. It had taken the scientists no time at all to identify the location and depth of the activity. The South China Sea.

  Building small airstrips and a few barracks was one thing, creating a tunnel from the mainland to the new islands was another. Washington needed to know what was going on, and USS Utah was just the tool to get the job done.

  Sporting the latest submerged propulsion capabilities plus several top-secret sonar advances, Utah was both the stealthiest submarine in the world and the best listener.