Amil left everything in the hotel room including the bomb which would destroy all evidence left behind. He walked out the door and down to the underground parking lot to get into his SUV. He drove towards his warehouse office to wait for the sub. Two blocks from the hotel he pressed a sending unit and from behind him the hotel erupted in a ball of flame. He drove into the warehouse and left the motor running and sat there saying some prayers for his friend.
His journey started many months ago in Pakistan. His hero personally gave him the job of destroying American’s greatest city New York. The hard part was getting the dirty bomb into Chicago and then attaching it to the passenger train. The bomb was transferred via submarine to Toronto and from there, before the snow storm hit, by luxury craft to Chicago. A rich business man traveled back and forth aboard his yacht doing business and the customs folks were used to his coming and going. From the dock a van was secured and made to look like a parts van containing stock for the maintenance yard at Amtrak. From there a night crew quickly secured the small bomb to the underside of the train marked for New York.
Amil turned the car off and went to the small office. He turned on the heater and sat in the mostly dark office with no lights on. Soon the office was nice and warm and he dozed off. A few hours later he woke up and looked at his watch. It was after three in the afternoon. He opened up an aluminum briefcase. Inside was a tracking device from a sending unit that would work up to a hundred mile or so.
Demitri was going as fast as he could over the ice headed to the warehouse. He couldn’t see a darn thing, but figured he was getting close. He dreamed of Honduras and its beaches with brown smooth girls to whet his appetite. Safely tucked in his snow suit he felt the money hot against his skin. He would pick up the other fifty large and make his way west where he heard it was not as stormy as the east coast. A smile crossed his face and he thought he saw something black through the blinding snow. Maybe that is the warehouse he thought. That was the last thing Demitri thought of as his snowmobile exploded into thousands of pieces along with him.
Amil thought he heard a noise, but decided it was just the wind against the steel building. It was getting dark and soon the sub would be poking its nose out of the lake to pick him up and take him back home. He was tired. For sixty years he had been fighting a religious war in Asia and the Middle East. He needed a rest and the Wondrous One promised him a break. He would teach the new recruits what he had learned over the years.
He noticed it was dark outside and he looked at his watch. It was time to go. He had about half hours walk out on the lake to meet the sub at six pm. He put his helmet on and gloves; left the stove on and walked out the door with his hand in his pocket. He walked down the ferry slip and out on the ice. Half way to the pickup point he heard the ice crack and knew the sub was on time. He was almost on top of it before he saw it, due to the blowing blizzard. A long aluminum ladder was put over the side and he climbed aboard. The crew cast the ladder off and just as he started to climb down inside the sub, he pushed another sending unit and the warehouse disappeared forever. The sub made way to the Atlantic Ocean.
Amil greeted the captain and spoke his own language for the first time in months. The captain never asked a question as Amil told him to head for home. The captain made course down the St. Lawrence Seaway to the Atlantic Ocean. The sub was old vintage Russian powered by diesel. The crew was all Pakistani veteran seamen. By 2020 the sub was an antique, but it had been refurbished to include the not so latest in sonar, but adequate.
The captain was careful and made his way slowly to open water hoping to not be detected by American subs patrolling off the coast of America. In about twelve hours they would be in open water and if luck held, home free from detection.
Off the entrance to the Seaway the U.S.S Bush at a depth of one hundred feet cruising the waters off the Atlantic coast. Most of the talk aboard was about the weather and if they were going to make it home for Christmas or not. The captain hadn’t made a decision as no word came back from the base.
The U.S.S Bush was the latest in submarine detection and warfare. It was a hunter killer sub specially designed to seek out enemy subs and kill. As the terrorists sub approached the open sea, the sonar on the American sub sounded the alarm. “Captain, we have sonar contact bearing 131 relative.”
“Sparky, can you identify it?’
“Just a minute, sir.” Sparky flipped through his books and replied, “Captain it’s an old Russian sub powered by diesel.”
The captain rubbed his chin and because he was a long time veteran knew it could be one of two things: one, it was Chinese and the other Pakistani. It most likely is a sub from Pakistani.
From years ago when the terrorists attacked the World Trade Center standing orders were to shoot first and ask questions later; especially in submarine warfare. Terrorists were noted for transporting people into the United States and Canada by submarine. The captain made his decision. He told the crew to load forward torpedoes and when in range let him know.
Aboard the Pakistani sub, Amil was lying on a bunk with the Koran on his chest. Beads in hand he prayed to Allah to deliver him safely home to his family.
Amil heard through the sound system a ringing of battle stations. He knew his time had run out. He closed his eyes and made his peace with Allah. A smile crossed his face knowing he left his legacy aboard a train that would send a final message to the Americans.
Aboard the American sub, the captain had already loosed two torpedoes at the enemy sub.
The Pakistani captain heard from his sonar man torpedoes on the way. The captain knew it was all over as there was not much he could do against the superior firepower of the American sub. He shouted evasive action, but his radio operator said the torpedoes were still coming and contact in twenty seconds.
The American captain listened as his sonar man counted down from ten to one and then explosions sounded back to back.
Sparky said, “Scratch one sub.”
The submarine exploded in joy and then got quiet as realization marked the minds of the crew knowing not one on the enemy sub would survive.
Amil said his last prayer sending it to his wife and children. His oldest son was a leader of a cell deep in London and wished him well as the end came quickly to Amil.
The American captain came on the speaker telling his crew what a good job they did and sorry there would be no going home for the holidays. In case there were more subs in the area they would stay on patrol till recalled by their base in Maryland.
Chapter 5
It was three am in Washington D.C. at the White House situation room. The President of the United States was in a cabinet meeting with her executive staff. Sitting around the table were her Chief of Staff Rhonda Streets; next to her Secretary of Transportation Rick Loveless; CIA director Melvin Roads; FBI Director Robert French and the last were Home Security Director Ron Weeks. On the Military side of the table sat Chief of the Joint Chiefs Richard ‘Tex’ Russell. The rest of the Joint Chiefs sat next to the boss.
Hilary Blaze was the first female president elected in the United States. Her vice-president was stuck in New York unable to return to Washington.
Hilary sat ramrod straight in her chair listening to chit chat and finally said, “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s get started. I want to hear from each one of you in detail what is going on in our country and what we can do about it, if anything. Ron, you start please.”
Ron said, “Madam President we have no communication whatsoever outside this room. A complete black out of our satellites and phones are dead as the night outside.”
Around the table the same was heard from all members of the staff. Only Richard ‘Tex’ Russell had anything concrete to say as he cleared his throat and said, ‘” We have sent by messenger to all our bases in the area to patrol the streets and help what citizens we can. I’m afraid to admit it, but we were caught with our pants down on this one.”
Hilary was starting to fume and said, “Are you
telling me we have no way to contact anyone in this country? Ok, let’s accept that. Now what are we going to do to take care of the three hundred million citizens of this country? I thought we had a plan for any and all emergency situations on file somewhere. Now are you all telling me that we have no idea what to do or how to react to this weather system?”
All went quiet around the table and Hilary went on to say, “Let’s meet back here in three hours and I want some ideas and a plan to put this country back where it is supposed to be.”
At that she stood up and walked out of the room, with her Chief of Staff following along like a shadow.
Tex leaned forward and said, “Gentlemen, let the military handle this situation and once we set a plan in motion, we will show the American people how to survive this awful weather we're having.”
At that, the meeting broke up and a few of them sat there with blank stares on their faces.
Greg’s name was called to eat dinner. He made his way to the dining car with Adell who was having a hard time walking. Dinner was hot soup and cold sandwiches. However, hot coffee tasted good and warmed Greg up a little. They ate quickly and returned to their seats. Greg felt like a walk and headed back to the conductor's car to see what the situation was. By now Bubba had noticed Greg was watching the Arab guy a lot. When he saw Greg leave for the back of the train, he and Chuck followed him.
Greg entered the conductor’s car when a blast of hot air hit him. Sitting around the room was the actor and his man; the conductor and his attendants. Greg asked, “Why is this car so warm?”
The conductor said, “Sir, who are you and what do you want here?”
Greg by now had run out of patience and didn’t want to be polite to anyone. He pulled out his ID and the conductors eyes opened wide. Just then Bubba and Chuck came in and Bubba gave off a “What the hell is this” comment.
Greg calmed down and explained who he was and introductions were made around the room except for the Raccoon man
Greg said to the conductor, “Tell me why you are so nervous and what the situation with this train is and why is the train so cold when an extra engine is attached to it?”
The conductor said with downcast eyes, “No fuel is the problem. The dispatcher said we have only eighteen hours of fuel and we will run out before reaching the top of the mountain.”
Greg stood there shocked and replied, “You mean to tell me we don’t have enough fuel to make New York?”
Chuck said, “Excuse me, but I’m a retired engineer and if worse comes to worse we can transfer from the snow plow train to this one.”
Greg liked what he heard and said to the conductor, “I’m officially taking over this train under the authority of the United States Government under the Emergency Act of twenty ten.”
He was bluffing of course, but they didn’t know it. Bubba told Greg he would do whatever he wanted to make sure all aboard knew a professional was in charge rather than a wimp like the conductor.
Greg said, “Well for now let’s give it a wait and see; meanwhile Bubba and Chuck would you keep an eye on that Arab across the aisle from you?”
Bubba said, “Sure will and if you don’t mind,” he reached and lifted the actor to his feet and took off his raccoon coat, “I will put this to good use with the old lady in our car.”
The actor never said a word and sat back down.
They all left and made their way back to their coach. Greg noticed the Arab sitting ramrod straight and hadn’t moved since he left. He sat down with Adell and Bubba gave the warm coat to Belinda.
The two trains, now that they had caught up with the snow train and subsequently hooked together, started moving slowly forward. The storm outside still raged on and the cars made creaking sounds with every movement due to the cold conditions. People inside were now barely able to tolerate the cold. What few extra blankets there were now covered some of the windows and doors. Baggage was opened and people put on everything they could to ward off the cold. Left over clothes was taped to the windows and on the floor. Surprisingly the passenger cars warmed up a little. People clapped and the mood changed for doom to hope. Some singing could be heard in a few cars and in other cars religious prayer could be overheard.
In Greg’s car, they had done much the same as the other cars with clothes on the windows and on the floor. He was under a blanket with Adell next to him. His thoughts wandered back to his wife and kids, I should be there, he thought. His wife constantly reminded him that he was never around when she needed him. Guilt was riding high at that moment. He knew his wife was resilient and would ride this storm out. Greg shook his head and tried to focus on the situation at hand. Fully more than twelve hours had passed since they left Chicago and they were just now heading up the mountains at a slow rate of speed. Greg had a mental picture of the route in his head. He guessed it would take at least six more hours to reach the summit and from there he felt confident they could make it to New York City.
Adell snuggled closer and he put his arm around her to keep her warm. Adell murmured some words of thank you and he squeezed her shoulder. Alfred and his wife were dozing and looked fine under the raccoon coat. Further up the coach, Bubba and Chuck were talking. Bubba was asking Chuck about his thoughts on the current situation as Chuck had told him the story of the snow train hooking up to the passenger train. Chuck said, “Well, we should make the pass with the extra engine pulling us. The snow train is packing a lot of sand so traction should not be a problem. With a little luck we should make it to New York by sometime in the afternoon.”
It was a little after four in the morning and daylight should come in a few hours. With the windows covered up Chuck couldn’t see, but knew the storm was still raging outside. He thought to himself if there was a snow slide up ahead, it would be the end of them all. He wasn’t worried about himself, but for the rest of the passengers young and old alike, he felt a sense of foreboding coming.
Meanwhile Abdul, other than a trip to the toilet, sat in his chair wide awake. His instructions had been set the bomb off at the peak of the summit for maximum dispersal of the bomb. With the windows covered over and the train moving so slow, he wondered how he would know when the train reached the top of the pass. Well, he would wait for his God Mohamed to tell him when to press the button. His fingers ran over the sending device for the hundredth time. His hands were cold, but his faith would see his job to the end. Like the others he had put on some extra clothes from his backpack, but still his teeth were chattering. He was hungry but he had nothing to eat. A few hours ago an attendant came through the train offering cold sandwiches to the passengers. He declined when the man said they were ham sandwiches. His seat mate was a middle aged fat man who mumbled to himself all the time. The smell of nervous sweat and stale aftershave was almost too much for him to endure. Abdul tried to lean against the side of the train, but it was too cold to touch.
The fat guy was dozing off and snoring a little. Abdul took the opportunity to pull the sending unit out of his pocket and look to see if the light was still blinking red. At that moment, Bubba was leaning over talking to Chuck when he saw the Arab guy pull his hand out of his pocket and something flashed red for just a second. He blinked his eyes wondering if had been seeing things. Chuck asked him, “Are you all right Bubba?”
Chuck replied with a whisper, “You know I think I saw something red flashing from the Arab’s pocket just a second ago. Do you think he might be a terrorist? Seems a little strange that someone would blow up this train with all the weather we’re having. In a few minutes I will walk back down the car and talk to Greg about this situation.”
He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes to not let the Arab guy know he saw anything. Chuck the wise old man knew better than to look over and he too laid his head back and closed his eyes.
Our two college students were sleeping like logs under their blankets. However unknown to all the two girls were not quite what they seemed to be. In truth they were bounty hunters headed to New
York trying to trace down a bail jumper. It was rumored the guy was staying somewhere around New York City University. He was of Arab decent and the girls were following Abdul on a tip that an Arab guy was headed to New York on this train to meet up with the bail jumper and escort him out of the country. The guy out on bail was accused of masterminding a plot to assassinate the president. Bail had been set at such a high fee that no one thought he would post bail and get out, but it was soon obvious someone wanted him out and thus out of the country. The two girl bounty hunters were the best in the business. With their good looks and intelligence they dug up information where others had failed to find out much of anything. Weather be damned the bounty hunters once on the trail stuck to the train like a bloodhound looking for a bitch in heat.
Their contact was the FBI director himself. This case was very sensitive and Robert didn’t want to use his agents unless necessary. If word got out that this guy jumped bail, it would not look good to the public who fawned over their first woman president. The president was aware the guy was on the loose, but at the present time she had more on her plate than some guy wanting to kill her. She felt safe inside the White House and nothing was further from her mind than him.
Chapter 6
Inside the White House runners were coming and going. Tex had things in motion and now he was thinking that it might be prudent to move the president to Colorado safely ensconced underground in the command center. How to move her in this weather was next to impossible. Forgetting that for a moment, Tex was busy with a runner who was reported to him that a snowmobile factory in Medina, Minnesota was probably the best place to mass produce snowmobiles. Tex told the colonel to find a way there and put the factory on alert. He said to the colonel, “Confiscate snowmobiles and set up a convoy of six-bys to follow with fuel and food. Kerosene works well for fire starting. Our time is limited colonel and we need to establish a line of communication and form up companies of snowmobiles and Arctic Cats. Also, any warehouses that have stores of Arctic clothing I want taken over and set up with a strict distribution of gear. I would expect you to use your judgment colonel and take care of the job.”
Unearthly Snowbound Page 3