by John O'Brien
They’d struck for the launch control centers of the missile wing attached to the Francis E. Warren Air Force Base. Having charged the batteries aboard the Washington, they’d called on the VHF radio as they drew close, finally receiving an answering call.
That had been years ago, and now they eked out a living among the launch centers, doing the best they could. The scavenging runs they used to conduct when winter was over and before the migrating reapers appeared had also become a thing of the past.
* * * * * *
“What’s that?” Hanson said, his body becoming alert and drawing Reynolds out of his trip down memory lane.
In the far distance to the southwest, a whitish glow illuminated a portion of the horizon.
“Fuck if I know,” Reynolds replied, wondering if they should head back into the control center.
But, he remained in place, mesmerized by the sight. The glow brightened, seeming to center on a single source somewhere over the horizon. In the middle, there was a solid silver-white beam, the glow fading farther out from the center. Fear nearly stopped Reynold’s heart as he tried to imagine the size of a migrating horde that could create that kind of display. The beauty and terror of the light held him in place a moment longer.
As he rose to contact Lawrence and raise the alarm, the horizon erupted in a blinding flash, which then folded in on itself and vanished like the dot on an old TV when turned off. An icy cold swept past without an accompanying wind, the chill seeming to come from inside and expanding outward. There wasn’t any sound, which would be expected from an explosion of that magnitude, even from a distance. The silent blast of cold vanished as suddenly as it arrived, the land returning to darkness bathed in the light of twinkling stars.
“What. In. The. Hell. Was. That?” Hanson exclaimed.
Reynolds didn’t immediately respond, just stared at where the light had been. In the aftermath, once the chill had gone, he felt a sense of serenity—deeper than he’d felt in a long time.
“I don’t know, but I get the sense that it was a good thing,” he finally answered.
“Yeah, oddly, so do I.”
“Hey, you two love birds, are you ready to come down?” O’Malley called from below.
Reynolds and Hanson climbed down the ladder and headed inside after giving O’Malley a rundown of what they had just witnessed. The gruff Irishman gave no indication of whether he believed the two, other than mentioning that he’d thought he felt a cold wind pass by. Reynolds and Hanson descended into the launch center, having to move to the side as a couple of younger kids raced down the hallway, up far past their bedtime. They passed by many quarters on the way to their own, hearing the cries of babies awakening in the middle of the night.
* * * * * *
The next day, a scouting party was sent in the direction indicated by Reynolds and Hanson, finding a carpet of bodies that extended for as far as the eye could see. There were so many that an accurate count was impossible, but they speculated it had to be in the hundreds of thousands, if not millions. They set large fires in the middle of summer, which rapidly spread across the plain. The bodies were consumed in the heat, hopefully staving off disease.
The usual migration of reapers came to a halt and expeditions south found no evidence of others. Humankind returned to the surface, their numbers and capabilities growing with the increased freedom.
Epilogue
Days later, with dawn breaking over the hills, Erin rode into the resort. The trip back hadn’t restored her much; the brittle tired feeling still enveloped her. She’d barely noticed her surroundings on the return home, only wanting to put the miles behind her. She had been faintly aware of the wolves still trotting in the distance, and occasionally raised a hand in greeting.
She took the horses into the stables, removing the saddles, packs, and blankets before giving them a good rubdown. Erin was going through the motions, her mind still numb and her body feeling like she’d aged a hundred years. Walking through the compound, she opened all of the gates, stables, and barn doors. With tremendous effort, she climbed the hill where her daddy was buried.
Leaning against a rock, she looked out over the landscape she knew so well. The wooded hills surrounding peaks, the ravines threading their way up and down, through which the elk herds traveled. The rays of the sun struck the plains, game trails snaking around the juniper bushes. Far off, she saw the dark shape of an antelope herd. And in the distance, the majestic slopes of a mountain range. Sitting against the warm rock, she felt at peace, the landscape the most beautiful she’d ever seen.
The sun slowly worked its way across the azure sky. Erin took it all in, basking in the rays of warmth. The trip had taken a lot out of her. As the sun began to set, long shadows crossing the land, she thought of her dad, filling her mind with fond memories. In the dying light, though tired, she felt at peace. With a smile on her face, she closed her eyes.
Howls reverberated across the hilltops and through the valleys, forlorn cries echoing up ravines and carrying over a resort nestled in a small valley below.
# # #
About the Author
John O'Brien is a former Air Force fighter instructor pilot who transitioned to Special Operations for the latter part of his career gathering his campaign ribbon for Desert Storm. Immediately following his military service, John became a firefighter/EMT with a local department. Along with becoming a firefighter, he fell into the Information Technology industry in corporate management. Currently, John is writing full-time.
As a former marathon runner, John lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest and can now be found kayaking out in the waters of Puget Sound, mountain biking in the Capital Forest, hiking in the Olympic Peninsula, or pedaling his road bike along the many scenic roads.
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Table of Contents
THE THIRD WAVE: EIDOLON
A Novel by John O’Brien
Also by John O’Brien
A New World Series
Companion Books
A Shrouded World
ARES Virus
Authors Note
Prologue
White House, Oval Office: December
CERN (European Organization for Nuclear Research), Switzerland: December
SDO (Solar Dynamics Observatory) Satellite, 22,000 miles from earth: June
Goddard Space Center, Maryland
Air Force One, somewhere over the Atlantic
SDO (Solar Dynamics Observatory) Satellite, 22,000 miles from earth
Goddard Space Center: Maryland
Solar Aftermath
Near the French-Swiss Border
Western Pacific Ocean
Johns Hopkins Hospital: Baltimore, Maryland
Afghanistan
Western Atlantic Ocean: off the coast of Virginia
Worldwide
CERN (European Center for Nuclear Research): Switzerland
Third Wave
CERN (European Center for Nuclear Research): Switzerland
Worldwide
CERN (European Center for Nuclear Research): Switzerland
Introductions
Sam Donaldson
Commander Lawrence
Sergeant Reynolds
Sam Donaldson—Part 1
Sergeant Reynolds—Part 1
Commander Lawrence—Part 1
Sergeant Reynolds—Part 2
Sam Donaldson—Part 2
Erin Donaldson—Part 1
Sergeant Reynolds—Part 3
Epilogue
About the Autho
r
Connect with me online