The Glooming (Wrath of the Old Gods Book 1)

by John Triptych

  Governor Mallory threw his arms up in a mock gesture of surrender. “Okay, all I was suggesting was that we could use his money to get more stuff for our church is all.”

  “Money’s now a secondary need,” Pastor Erik said. “What we need are guns and foodstuff, lots of ‘em.”

  “We should have all the weapons we need once we can access the armory,” Steve said.

  Governor Mallory smiled. “Well, son, I can even get you artillery, nothing like a howitzer cannon to wake your friends up in the morning.”

  Steve adjusted his Stetson. “Well, we won’t need that right away, just maybe the riot gear, as well as a few APCs and helicopters ought to do for now.”

  Governor Mallory winked at him. “You’ll have it by tonight, son. I guarantee it.”

  “We’ve got about close to fifty thousand church members with guns,” Pastor Erik said with obvious pride. “That pretty much means we’re a small army. With armored vehicles and helicopters, even the Feds will think twice about whether they want to mess with us or not.”

  Governor Mallory tilted his cowboy hat upwards so a portion of his balding forehead showed. “Erik, my office has updated me that you will soon have at least a regiment of National Guard troops at your disposal, so don’t worry, everything is going well.”

  “So far so good then,” Pastor Erik said. “Everything is falling into place. All we have to do now is to wait for our Lord’s return, and he will deliver us from this broken world we call earth. Eternal life in Heaven must be so sweet and I could just taste it right now. My father said just as he was on his deathbed that he saw a glimpse of paradise, it was like a blissful garden with a flowing breeze and eternal sunshine, where one could hear chirping birds and the soft chime of the wind. And then he died. I can’t wait to see him again once this is all over and done with.”

  Governor Mallory chuckled. “Amen.”

  18. State of the Union

  Virginia

  When the small convoy of unmarked SUVs finally pulled in front of an inauspicious country club, Dr. Paul Dane had hoped that this would be the final stop for awhile. He had been whisked away onto an aircraft carrier after narrowly escaping from the battle of London just two days ago. Paul was quickly put in the rear seat of an FA-18 Super Hornet, flown over the Atlantic, and back into US territory in record time. The Navy pilot of the aircraft had flown using afterburners at supersonic speed and refused to travel in a straight line, always using evasive maneuvering that put both a tremendous strain on Paul’s chest, as well as nearly making him throw up in his oxygen mask. The one respite he had during the whole flight was when the pilot finally flew straight and steady during the air to air refueling with a Boeing KC-46 Pegasus tanker over the mid-Atlantic. When they finally landed at the Naval Station in Norfolk, Paul promptly vomited out the half cup of coffee they gave him when he got onto the carrier, just a few hours before.

  “This way, sir,” a six-foot four-inch black Marine sergeant in full combat gear who was sitting beside him in the vehicle said as the cars stopped. The Marine got out of the passenger door of the SUV and motioned at Paul to follow him.

  The rains had continued incessantly and it looked like the country club was closed from the outside. They had passed through the heavily-guarded front gate and into the long, inner road, then onwards to the roofed driveway leading to the front of the main building. As Paul got out, he had been briefed that most of the southern states were completely inundated by flooding. New Orleans was in the process of evacuation, as well as some other coastal cities below sea level, but the levees all across the country had already been broken and a great many people were presumed dead.

  Military people at the naval station had given Paul a pair of Navy Working Uniforms with which to wear, but he declined, preferring to keep wearing his old blue sport coat and heavily used walking shoes. He did however buy a new white dress shirt, socks, and a pair of khaki trousers at the Navy Exchange. The other pair of pants was torn and moist with sweat and he had to throw them away. As Paul stood beside the SUV, he stretched his back out for a bit and then followed the sergeant into the main lobby.

  It was a hive of activity. Paul was shocked as he could see heavily-armed military personnel equipped with M4 carbines and M240 machineguns all over the place. There were also members of Congress milling around the crowded foyer. Whatever was going on, it was involving the entire US government. Paul clutched at the stack of notes he had been carrying, ever since they gave him some time to look at the latest intelligence reports coming from all over the world. He had spent hours in debriefing rooms, talking to military and civilian survivors of disasters that had happened both in Europe and in the continental US. At first he thought he was in some strange nightmare, but after seeing the dreaded Fomorians up close in London, Paul knew that this was a new reality that had to be accepted. The alternative would be nothing short of madness.

  An Air Force captain walked up to him. She was tall and pale, with her short, auburn hair carefully held down underneath her cap and offered her hand. He noticed that she had a pistol strapped to her hip holster. “Professor Dane? I’m Captain Laura Niven. I’ll be your AFISRA military liaison from now on.”

  Paul adjusted his newly-issued glasses as he shook her hand. He had lost his original pair at Stonehenge and was lucky enough to get to an optometrist at the naval station in time. “I’m sorry, Captain, AFISRA? I’m not familiar with that word.”

  “It’s short for Air Force Intelligence, Surveillance and Reconnaissance Agency,” Captain Niven said. “You have been assigned to the Department of Defense, and my duty is to work closely with you on gathering intel while you help with drafting contingency plans against the enemy.”

  Paul shook his head and made a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry, but I’m a civilian, how could I be in the DOD now?”

  Captain Niven looked him straight in the eye. It wasn’t a joke to her. “By Executive Order. Martial Law has been declared and your country needs you. You’ll need to prepare for a briefing so I need you to come with me, right now.”

  Paul nodded and began to follow her. There was an open door that led to a large service corridor, and he walked in after she showed her ID to a group of men in suits carrying Heckler & Koch MP5 submachineguns who were standing by the entrance. After looking at Paul’s newly issued ID, they gave him a thorough body search with metal detectors and then allowed him to pass through. Going through a largely deserted kitchen, Paul was stunned to notice that part of the wall had been opened, which revealed a hidden blast door made of solid steel at least six inches thick. As he continued to walk behind her, he realized that this so-called country club was just a front for what now was obviously a hidden bunker for the US government.

  Paul quickened his pace until he was just behind her. “Excuse me, I’m supposed to give a briefing? As to what exactly and when?”

  Captain Niven kept up her brisk walk and didn’t even turn to look at him. “You are to brief the JCS, UCC, and the president on the nature of the enemy and their capabilities, as well as any contingencies on how to deal with them.” She looked at her watch. “That briefing should start as soon as we get into the room in a few minutes’ time.”

  “What? I’m supposed to brief the president now? I don’t even know where to start!” Paul protested. “I don’t even know what the JCS or UCC is.”

  “Joint Chiefs of Staff, as well as the Unified Combatant Commands, specifically USNORTHCOM or US Northern Command,” Captain Niven said. “NORTHCOM’s mission is to protect the homeland from the threats we are facing now with all US military and civilian forces at its disposal.”

  “Look, I’ve been flown over the Atlantic and I’ve barely had any sleep. I’ve been reading reports and interviewing survivors for the past few days, and I still don’t know what this is all about,” Paul said as they turned into another corridor. “I’m a mythology professor, for crissakes.” He didn’t tell her that he really didn’t want to sleep either, because of the recu
rring nightmares and visions that haunted him every time he closed his eyes.

  Captain Niven finally turned to face him as she stopped in front of a white-painted double door. “At this point, you know more than we do. You had two supernatural encounters in the UK, and you’re the only one qualified to make this briefing, and to answer questions from both the government and the military.”

  Paul sighed. “Okay, but even what I know may not be enough.”

  She turned, then knocked twice and the door was opened outwards by two men in suits. As they were ushered in, Paul noticed that the center of the large room was dominated by a long table of dark oak wood. All around it sat the most powerful people in the world as they faced a large video monitor that nearly covered the opposite wall. The former vice president had just been recently sworn in; he was now the de-facto leader of a battered country that was once the most powerful nation on earth. Sitting to his right was the Secretary of Defense. The Speaker of the House was but two chairs away. Paul realized that the men in suits were undoubtedly from the Secret Service to protect the new President of the United States, one of them pointed to two empty chairs along the side of the wall. Captain Niven and Paul quickly sat down on them as most of the people sitting on the table continued to look at the incoming video feeds which detailed the latest reports.

  As he quickly went over the stack of papers he carried for a last minute review, Paul glanced over at the president. It had been only a few days when Air Force One and his predecessor went down with all hands lost. Less than a quarter of the American people had actually seen his televised oath of office since there were very few television and radio stations left that were still operational. Paul could see that the past few days had literally aged him, he looked tired and emaciated, his silvery hair hung limply on the top of his head. All of the military people sitting in the table were wearing battle fatigues, not a single one was in dress uniform, and every one of them had a pistol strapped to his hip. The nation was clearly at war. With whom, Paul wasn’t so sure.

  “Everybody here?” the president said after glancing in Paul’s direction. “Let’s get this thing underway.”

  “Very well, Mr. President,” Admiral Charles Zimmerman, the commanding officer of NORTHCOM said. “We’ll start with Major Cochran from INSCOM. He will update us on the current sitrep.”

  An Army officer who had been sitting beside Paul instantly stood up and walked to the front of the video monitor, as he too carried a stack of reports.

  Paul whispered into Captain Niven’s ear. “What’s INSCOM mean?”

  “US Army Intelligence and Security Command,” she said to him in a very low voice.

  Major Cochran cleared his throat as he stood in front of them. “Mr. President, our situation is currently precarious. I’ll start with our borders: Canada is essentially snowed under by the strange weather phenomena that has engulfed Northern Europe. It’s like an ice age up in the north just a few hundred miles away from us.”

  The president lightly tapped the table and turned to his left. “John, how are we with accommodating the Canadian government?”

  John Smalley, the president’s Chief of Staff, coughed before answering. “At present, Prime Minister Archer, his family and his staff, are currently staying at the Greenbrier. We are in the process of renovating it since it was turned into a museum. That was after we abandoned it when the press found out that it had a government bunker back in the Sixties, but it will take months for obvious reasons. They aren’t complaining at this point.”

  “Just as well,” the president said. “Most of his country is in a snowstorm and the ones who could get down here know it isn’t any better. What about the rest of Congress?”

  “Most of Congress, their families, and staff are at the underground bunker in Raven Rock Mountain Complex,” the Speaker of the House said. “There’s a few senators and congressmen who don’t want to leave Washington DC, so to hell with ‘em. I’ll be heading over to Mount Weather as soon as we’ve finished here and coordinate with you once you get to NORAD. With three separate locations, continuity of government will be maintained.”

  “We’re not even sure if we can maintain landline communications that far away,” John Smalley said before turning to look at Major Cochran. “What is the sitrep in regards to our communications?”

  “I’m afraid it’s not good, sir,” Major Cochran said. “We have no contact with our orbital satellites, and the floods and adverse weather have severely damaged our telecommunications infrastructure. Even our FM radios aren’t reliable due to unknown interference. The only way we can get communications through some of our agencies and bases is through direct courier.”

  The president shook his head in frustration. “Goddamn it, what is the situation with our nuclear silos?”

  “We only have a few hundred nuclear warheads in fixed silos when this whole war began, sir,” Major Cochran said. “With the exception of the base in Kings Bay, Georgia, we are still in contact with the others, sir. The silos in Bangor, Malmstrom, and Minot are inoperable due to the snowstorm, sir.”

  “What’s the situation in Georgia?” the president said.

  “Mostly it’s the weather, sir,” Major Cochran said. “We can’t get any constant lines of communication so we sent some military units down there. We’re still waiting for updates. NORTHCOM has given orders to evacuate most of the military bases in the affected areas of the South, but the going is slow.”

  “Goddamn it,” the president said as he turned to look at Admiral Zimmerman. “Make that your first priority. We’ve got to make sure all our nukes are under control.”

  “I’ve already given out the orders to maintain communications with all SAC bases at all cost, Mr. President,” Admiral Zimmerman said. “Just give me a few days.”

  The president just nodded. There wasn’t much point in getting angry since he knew that everybody was trying their best. “What about Mexico and our southern border with them?”

  “General Montelo was sent in with US Army South to establish a buffer zone in northern Mexico. We lost contact with them two days ago and the massive rainstorms in that area now seem to be right up near our borders as of today,” Admiral Zimmerman said.

  “Jesus Christ,” the Secretary of Defense said. “So we’ve lost an entire army corps now?”

  “What are the estimated casualties for our entire military so far?” the president said.

  Major Cochran took a quick look at his notes before answering. “We can’t get a definitive number at this point, sir. But if we are to assume that our overseas forces that have been cut off as ineffective or labeled as MIA, then I would say about close to around five hundred thousand total, and that includes casualties within the continental United States, sir.”

  Admiral Zimmerman looked away. The other generals and admirals of the Joint Chiefs began to murmur. The losses to the US military was catastrophic and a historic first.

  The president raised his hand and signaled everyone to quiet down. “Okay, we can talk about this among ourselves later. Anything else we have on the border, Major?”

  Major Cochran bit his lip before responding. “Governor Bishop of Texas is at the border and he’s personally commanding our units down there, in direct contravention of our Federal chain of command. He has also managed to convince the governors of New Mexico, Arizona and California to start marshalling their own National Guard units and commit them to their own respective southern borders with Mexico. There’s been talk of those states openly seceding from the union.”

  The murmurings among the senior officers began again while the president just shook his head in total disbelief.

  “Who’s in command of the Texas National Guard down there?” the Defense Secretary said.

  “Major General Len Williams,” Admiral Zimmerman said. “He’s been telling his men not to obey the governor’s orders until he gets approval from NORTHCOM and the Executive Branch of the Federal Government. His men have low morale and there’s p
lenty of confused messages coming in from both sides.”

  “Tell him to take orders only from us and to disregard any directives from the governor, is that clear?” the president said. “Same goes for all Guard units and reserve forces we have in those states. Under no circumstances are any of the commanders of those units to obey orders from any of the governors until NORTHCOM’s say so. I want to place all military units in the country under federal service as of now.”

  “Yes, Mr. President,” Admiral Zimmerman said tersely.

  “What about the coastline?” the Secretary of Defense said.

  “Most of our naval assets in the continental United States are in their respective ports, with the exception of the Theodore Roosevelt carrier group that’s in the southern edge of the Celtic Sea. They are overseeing the evacuation of our forces from Europe, but they will withdraw tomorrow due to sightings of ghost ships that have been approaching them. The Nimitz battlegroup is withdrawing from the Sea of Japan because of sightings of sea creatures in the area and is heading back to the Pacific coast. Most of our submarines have returned to base, but we have lost contact with about eleven of them while they were at sea, nine attack subs and two Ohio-class ballistic missile boats. As you well know, we have not deployed any new naval task forces due to the fact that we lost two aircraft carriers for as of yet unexplained reasons,” Major Cochran said.

  “What are the rumors about what happened to the Reagan and Bush carrier groups?” the president said.