The Doomsday Series Box Set | Books 1-5

by Akart, Bobby

  “Well, I spoke with Senator McNeill first. He said, but couldn’t say, you know what I mean?”

  “Yeah, it’s the way Washington works.”

  “He expects the president to declare martial law at any moment. In fact, he’s already been notified by the Secret Service to be ready to join other members of Congress in the facilities around the East Coast designed to protect the high-ranking officials of our government.”

  Meredith sat down and studied the guns and money, which remained in the same place as earlier. “I wish we all could be so lucky.”

  Cort leaned up against his desk again and patted her on the leg. “But, honey, we are. I’ve anticipated this day coming, and I’ve made arrangements to keep us safe at the Haven. It may not be an underground bunker with the military guarding it, but it is fenced, and it is guarded with some well-trained ex-soldiers and members of law enforcement.”

  “What would we do there? What about food? Hannah is just a child. How would we fit in?”

  “Listen, you have to trust me,” replied Cort. “The people who developed the Haven, Ryan and Blair Smart, have thought through every detail. There’s a school and a church. It’s located on hundreds of acres and along a river too. Hannah will have lots to do and so will you if you want. They need teachers and also somebody to lead Sunday school.”

  “Can we leave if we want?”

  “Of course, honey. Anytime, although if things get bad and the martial law declaration goes into effect, I can’t think of any place I’d rather be than the Haven.”

  Meredith wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. She looked outside at the beautifully manicured lawn and the stately oak trees that adorned their front yard. “We can come back, right?”

  “As soon as it’s safe. I promise.”

  She nodded and squeezed her husband’s hand. “From what you’re saying, I gather we have to leave soon. Am I correct?”

  “Yes, tonight, in fact. I’ve already checked flights, and there’s a nonstop out of Pensacola to Charlotte that leaves at nine. If we get our things packed, we can make it.”

  “I trust you, Cort. You’ve never been an alarmist, and I’m proud of you for thinking ahead like you did. I just wish you’d told me about it. I’m not that fragile, you know.”

  Cort bent over to kiss the love of his life. “I know and I am so sorry. It’ll work out, you’ll see. Now, would you like to help me break the news to our daughter?”

  Meredith rolled her eyes and smiled. “It’s all you, Daddy-O. I’ll be here for moral support, but you’re gonna have to sell her.”

  “But you’re the mom,” protested Cort. “Listen, it’s a known fact that fathers don’t understand preteen girls. There are so many factors to consider, most of which have nothing to do with what happens under this roof.”

  “Oh, you mean like friends at school, girls and boys alike? And band practice? And the history club?”

  “Um, yeah. I guess all of those things.”

  “Yeah, good luck. I can’t wait to see you use all of the political skills you’ve learned in Washington to deal with our twelve-year-old daughter.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  New Year’s Day

  Cape May, New Jersey

  Tyler and Angela had just missed the 10:55 ferry departing for Lewes, Delaware, but were assured they’d be on the next available boat, which would leave an hour later. While they were in line, Tyler wandered around and struck up conversations with several travelers who’d packed their cars and trucks with more than just the customary suitcases to take a trip. Many of these people lived in New York City and had fled immediately after the drone attacks.

  While the kids enjoyed running around the ferry and taking in the sights of the lighthouses and seagulls, the Rankins struck up conversations with as many people as they could to gather information about what had happened the night before.

  The attack on New York was officially being labeled as terrorism by the Department of Homeland Security. The possible culprits ranged from radical Islamists to splinter groups funded by the North Koreans, both of whom had a perceived axe to grind with the U.S.

  After Hamas rebels had fired over four hundred rockets into Jerusalem, the Israeli Defense Forces struck back with a vengeance. Working with the U.S. Navy, who remained a permanent fixture in the Mediterranean Sea, the IDF rained hellfire upon Gaza and Hamas strongholds, including compounds, observation posts and rocket-launching locations. Palestinians and their Iranian allies vowed revenge, assuring America that the fight would be taken to their homeland in retaliation.

  The Kim regime in North Korea, officially known as the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, was anything but democratic. The Kim dynasty spent over half a century coalescing the North Korean people socially, ideologically, and with loyalty to their Dear Leaders.

  The president made every effort to normalize relations with the rogue nation, but when the U.S. intelligence agencies determined that Kim Jong-un continued to hide nuclear missiles in more than a dozen hidden locations around the Hermit Kingdom, the president cut off talks and a war stance was adopted. Crippling sanctions and a massive military buildup threatened to bring the Kim regime to its knees. Many political analysts opined that the New Year’s Eve attacks had been orchestrated by Kim using operatives embedded in America.

  Tyler knew the world was a dangerous place and that America seemed to be the target of the bad actors’ ire. He’d seen administrations try to make peace with the haters, to no avail. Then he watched as this administration took a get-tough stance. The result was the same. The United States was despised by many nations that vowed death to all Americans.

  The eighty-minute ride across the Delaware was disheartening for Angela and Tyler. What could have been a momentous occasion for their children ended up being an eye-opening exercise that reminded them a war could be, and in fact had been, brought to America’s doorstep. They were aware of this eventuality, which was why they prepped.

  The ferry arrived across the Delaware, and the Bronco eased down the ramp onto firm ground. “Okay, you guys, that was pretty cool, right?” asked Angela as she relinquished the driving duties back to her husband.

  “It was amazeballs!” exclaimed Kaycee.

  “I wish our phone cameras worked,” lamented J.C.

  Angela allowed a pout, as her son enjoyed memorializing their trips through photographs and videos. The child even had his own Instagram account with a good-sized following.

  “J.C., when we get home, we’ll get us all new phones, how’s that?” Angela tried to make it better. “Besides, you’ll never forget this experience, right?”

  “Yeah, I suppose. Um, how much longer?”

  “We still have quite a way to go, guys,” replied Tyler. He glanced down at his fuel gauge. He’d driven a hundred miles on this tank and would need to stop soon. “How about all of you help me find some gas, okay?”

  The next twenty miles took nearly an hour as they stopped at one gas station after another, only to find out their pumps were empty. After the attacks, many residents of southern Delaware fled south in an attempt to avoid the anticipated masses of refugees out of Wilmington and Philadelphia.

  With no luck at the gas stations and the fuel needle already on E, Tyler and Angela discussed alternative sources.

  Tyler made his proposal. “Let’s start down some of these side roads but continue to head south toward Chesapeake Bay. All we need is a can of fuel here and there to keep going.”

  “How much does it hold?”

  “Twelve gallons,” replied Tyler.

  Angela shook her head. “I never even paid attention to how often we stopped on this trip.”

  “Every two to two and a half hours.”

  “Babe, I don’t wanna get stuck in the middle of nowhere. I kinda lost track of where we are. Delaware? Maryland? New Jersey? It all looks alike over here.”

  Tyler looked around, searching for some kind of identifying marker, not that it mattered. “We
just crossed into Delaware.”

  “That’s right, Dad,” said J.C. “Didn’t you see the sign back there?”

  Tyler rolled his eyes and reached for Angela’s hand. “It’ll be okay. Look for a friendly face who might help us. Or look for a lawnmower. Where there’s a mower, there’s—”

  “Dad!” exclaimed Kaycee. “There! On your right. There are two gas cans in that shed by a riding lawn mower.”

  Tyler stepped on the brakes and slowed to a stop in front of a white farmhouse. A for sale sign was pressed into the ground near the gravel driveway entrance.

  He and Angela made eye contact and he glanced at the gun. She slyly picked it up and placed it in her lap. Tyler slipped the gear into reverse and backed the car up the narrow, two-lane road until he had room to turn into the driveway.

  He hesitated and then drove forward. As he did, Angela made a suggestion. “Let me go to the front door. They might be more receptive to a mother in need of assistance.”

  “Okay, gimme that.” Tyler reached for the weapon, glancing in the backseat as he did. Both children were watching their every move. Sadly, they were growing up fast in this new year.

  Angela left the truck and made her way to the front door. She rang the doorbell several times and waited while a man came to the front porch. His presence must have startled her because she took a couple of steps back.

  The two spoke for a minute, and the remaining Rankins in the Bronco determined from the man’s body language that he was not going to grant Angela’s request.

  Tyler, nervously fiddling with the pistol, was intently focused on the conversation between Angela and the man, as he was prepared to leap from the truck to rescue her if there was a problem. This was why he didn’t notice Kaycee and J.C. slip out of the backseat and out the passenger side of the Bronco.

  Tyler caught a glimpse of them out of the corner of his eye as the two kids raced along the back side of a hedgerow toward the small shed Kaycee had spotted earlier. Within seconds, they had each grabbed a red gas can and were scurrying back again to the truck.

  They arrived at the door, and Tyler leaned through the bucket seats to help them load the gas cans behind him.

  He shook his head and gritted his teeth to speak under his breath. “You two are in big trouble.”

  “We’re already grounded,” shot back Kaycee.

  Insolence. But funny at the same time.

  Tyler got them settled and started the truck as Angela made her way down the sidewalk to join her family. She was shaking her head side to side and then shrugged with her arms spread apart, indicating her disappointment.

  Tyler mouthed the word hurry, causing Angela to pick up the pace. She was barely in the front seat when Tyler threw the Bronco into reverse and hurriedly backed out of the driveway.

  “Where did that come from?” she questioned when the sloshing gas cans caused the odor to fill the Bronco.

  “Um.” Tyler began to explain before hesitating. He didn’t want to condone what the kids did. It was, in fact, potentially dangerous. But, on the other hand, it was quick thinking and was absolutely what needed to be done. “Well, it appears these two are growing up to be gypsy kids.”

  Angela looked her children in the eyes, who immediately cowered under their mother’s glare. “Guys, really? You stole the gas?”

  Before the kids could respond, Tyler and Angela burst out laughing.

  “Sorry, Mom,” apologized J.C. first. “It’s just that …” His voice trailed off.

  Angela couldn’t punish their kids for helping the family out, under the circumstances. “You two are now on double secret probation.”

  “On top of being grounded?” squalled Kaycee.

  “Yes, ma’am,” replied Tyler. “And after we stop to top off our tank, your mother and I will discuss what exactly double secret probation means.”

  Now the parents exchanged high fives.

  Chapter Forty

  NSB New London

  Groton, Connecticut

  NSB New London, the Navy’s first submarine base located at Groton, Connecticut, was known as the Home of the Submarine Force. Established as a naval yard and storage depot after the Civil War, the naval base was used sporadically until 1915 and the advent of submarine warfare. Over time, the facility was transformed into the U. S. Navy’s primary submarine base and training school. Now, NSB New London occupies nearly seven hundred acres and was home to fifteen nuclear submarines. Almost every submariner in the Navy passes through Groton before deployment at sea around the world.

  Tom and Donna barely spoke en route to the base. Both of them contemplated the encounter they’d had with George Trowbridge and agreed to wait until they were on board the USS Virginia before they dared to discuss their observations.

  Despite the powerful man’s assurances, Tom still had his doubts about their ability to board the Virginia. Nonetheless, their driver was able to sail through the security checkpoints, and within an hour, they were being escorted to the port commander’s office to wait for the Virginia’s commanding officer for further instructions.

  While they were alone, Donna opened up the conversation by discussing Trowbridge’s health. “Tom, I’m somewhat familiar with kidney failure. Immediately following my diagnosis of breast cancer, as you recall, I became distraught and began researching the worst-case scenarios on the internet. One of the likely results of advanced cancer is kidney failure.”

  Tom whispered back, “Do you think Trowbridge has cancer?”

  “No, not necessarily,” replied Donna. “But this is what I wanted to tell you. I studied dialysis and it appears that Trowbridge is permanently hooked up. He’s either been through several kidney transplant attempts, and his body rejected them, or he has something else going on that prevents a surgery. Either way, he’s probably dying.”

  Tom subconsciously touched his coat where the letter to Meredith Cortland was held. “Do you think his mortality prompted the writing of this letter?”

  “Considering the circumstances and our sudden appearance on his doorstep, I find it odd that he’d hastily pen a letter to be delivered by relative strangers.”

  Tom nodded in agreement as he stared mindlessly at the polished tile floor. “Not to mention the fact that I have no idea who this person is or where we’ll meet her.”

  “Maybe she’s on this ship?” asked Donna.

  “I don’t know. In case you missed that part of the conversation, we’re traveling on a submarine.”

  “Under water, fabulous. Don’t remind me.”

  A naval officer dressed in his blue and black camouflage fatigues approached the Sheltons and asked them to accompany him to meet the commanding officer. He motioned for them to take a seat in an office, where they waited. Several minutes later, a dapper man in his forties entered and closed the door behind him. He was carrying a manila envelope that he immediately handed to Tom before they had an opportunity to shake hands.

  “Welcome to NSB New London. I’m Commander Jeffrey Anderson, the CO of the Virginia.” Commander Anderson extended his hand to shake Donna’s.

  Tom immediately stood. “Commander Tom Shelton, USN, retired.” He and Anderson saluted one another.

  “Welcome, Commander Shelton,” said Anderson. “I look forward to having both of you aboard the Virginia as my official honored guests.” Anderson stressed the word official and added a smile as he did. He motioned for Tom to sit down and encouraged him to read through the dossier that had been created for them.

  After a moment of thumbing through the paperwork, Tom looked up at Anderson. “The Discovery Channel?”

  Donna shot him a puzzled glance and then turned her attention back to Anderson, who explained, “This is a cover I’ve used in the past when our mutual friend has needed an assist. The Discovery Channel produced a series titled Submarine: Hidden Hunter many years ago before the Virginia was commissioned. The series followed the pre-commission process as we put her through a battery of tests and sea trials. The advanced
technology, which included, at the time, her air-independent propulsion system, was revealed. Finally, an inside look at raw recruits in Basic Sub School depicted the strenuous, regimented training our submariners have to endure to earn a spot on the Virginia.”

  “So, as the paperwork indicates, we’re producers considering a follow-up series now that the Virginia has seen battle.”

  “Exactly. We’re leaving in less than two hours, and your inclusion as my personal guests will not be scrutinized. Plus, it’s a relatively quick trip for the Virginia. Although we’re permanently based here as part of SUBRON 4, we’re going to spend some time in Norfolk in preparation for our next mission. Classified, of course.”

  “Subron?” asked Donna.

  “Um, sorry, ma’am. Submarine Squadron four.”

  “What if we’re confronted while on board?” asked Tom.

  “You won’t be, but as a precaution, I’d like you to remain confined to quarters unless I accompany you. We’ll be putting the Virginia through the paces, covering nearly seven hundred nautical miles at twenty-eight knots.”

  “Full throttle,” commented Tom.

  “That’s correct, Commander. So, are you ready to come aboard? I’ve got work to do, and I’d like to get you settled while my crew is hustling around. And, ma’am, I understand your ankle needs some attention. I’ll have a member of the medical team look in on you and get you squared away for your future travels. I understand you’re from Charleston?”

  “Yes, and thank you,” replied Donna, who glanced over at Tom with a look of sadness. “It’s our home port, for now.”

  They walked slowly so Donna could favor her leg. As they went, Anderson told them about the Virginia.

  “Designated SSN 774, the Virginia is actually the tenth Navy vessel to be named for the Commonwealth. Our sub is nearly four hundred feet long and has a beam of thirty-four feet. The crew consists of fifteen officers, including myself, and a hundred seventeen enlisted personnel. We’ve traveled nearly a hundred thousand nautical miles on our last three deployments, and quite frankly, it never gets old. It’s in our blood.”