Asteroid Destruction

by Bobby Akart

  Over the years, she’d hardened inside. Her childhood was not unlike what many girls went through, but was complicated somewhat because she enjoyed the company of boys. Initially, it presented many challenges. Over time, as she grew into a young woman, this upbringing served her well.

  A smile came across her face as she recalled an event when she and Gunner were twelve years old. Cam had developed physically before most of the other girls her age in the sixth grade. During the prior summer, her female figure began to form and she became more attractive, not the tomboy the kids enjoyed playing pickup football games with.

  As the new school year began, she was initially teased playfully about her breasts, but eventually the teasing went too far. Her chest was the constant brunt of unwanted attention by the predominantly twelve-year-old boys who were entering the age of puberty. Many would grab at her in an attempt to touch them, and eventually they became overly aggressive.

  When Cam grew up, the era of boys will be boys was over for the most part. That wasn’t necessarily the case when you lived in military housing. Going to someone of authority in school was frowned upon as snitching and was an indication you were weak.

  Getting your military parent involved was an even worse idea. Oftentimes, in a stressful job like defending their country, service personnel might overreact to their daughter or son being the brunt of bullying. An emotional, physical confrontation between military parents, or their spouses, might result in the end of a promising career.

  Cam did her best to repel the unwanted advances, but one day, the situation got out of hand.

  She’d just finished her physical education class, the last of the day for her, and was headed back to the locker rooms underneath the school’s gymnasium. Several older boys, eighth graders, were waiting near the bleachers as Cam approached.

  Before she knew it, they’d encircled her and began to taunt her about her appearance. Cam tried to cover up her body, embarrassed by the way they spoke to her. When she tried to push her way past to get to the safety of the girls’ locker room, they blocked her path.

  That was when the incident got physical. As she’d endured before, the boys began to grab at her tee shirt. One wrenched her breast so hard Cam screamed in pain. The other boys began to laugh and became emboldened by the perceived sign of weakness.

  She was knocked to the ground, and two boys dropped to their knees and began pawing at her. Cam, who was much smaller than the older boys, tried to break free of their grasps, but couldn’t. As she flailed about, she caught a glimpse of rapid movement out of the corner of her eye.

  It was Gunner.

  He’d heard the screams and the boys’ taunts. Later, he acknowledged he didn’t know it was Cam being assaulted. He just saw that a pack of wolves was attacking their helpless prey.

  She grinned, remembering how referring to her as helpless prey earned her best friend a slug to the arm. She was not helpless, she insisted. Only temporarily inconvenienced.

  In any event, the beatdown administered to the four eighth graders served to put the male population of their school on notice. Cameron Mills was off-limits, and if you thought otherwise, ask Gunner Fox.

  From that day forward, Gunner had become her protector, the big brother she never had. The two became inseparable until her father was reassigned and they parted ways during high school. The two kids had matured enough to handle the separation and continued to keep in touch via social media. But the bond they’d formed that day and their mantra, ride or die, would stick with them for life.

  Now it was Cam’s turn to return the favor. She knew Gunner was still alive. They had a connection, kind of like identical twins. When one experienced joy, so did the other. When one was hurting, they did it together regardless of distance or circumstances.

  Cam could feel that Gunner was in pain. Not emotionally, but certainly physically.

  She pressed her face against the window of the helicopter and watched another small meteorite zip past in the distance, generating a massive ball of fire as it hit the ground.

  She smiled, thinking of the pain that Gunner was enduring. Not in a sadistic sort of way but, rather, relishing the fact that her best friend was alive.

  Twenty minutes later, the chopper made a hurried, rough landing, the pilots every bit as anxious to get on the ground as Cam and Bear were. It was just after midnight and Fort Belvoir appeared to be largely deserted at this hour except for several office lights along the west wing of the DTRA building. Offices, Cam recalled, that belonged to Ghost, the Jackal, and their support staff.

  “Thank you, gentlemen,” said Bear as the door was opened and he hopped out of the helicopter. “Glad to have my feet on the ground. Apreesh!” The odd word was Bear’s unique way of saying I appreciate it.

  Cam provided the brave pilots a thumbs-up and they responded by saluting the major. At times like these, Cam didn’t think in terms of rank and protocol. Her mind was elsewhere. A remote location in Latin America where the Starhopper and its crew awaited rescue.

  “Come on, Bear. Let’s get briefed and then wheels up to get our boy home.”

  “I’m with ya,” the big man bellowed. “Hey, I wonder if they’ll assign us a bird like the tilt-rotor we took into Russia. That ride was sweet and I hated ditching it in Alaska.”

  Cam shook her head in disbelief. Is that all boys think about is their toys and, well … she laughed off the rest of her thought.

  Personally, while she was fond of boys, she didn’t think about the toys very often, although she often referred to herself as a gun-whore. It was a vulgar slang reference, to be sure, but a female who prided herself on having a large variety of shoes or handbags often referred to herself as a bag-whore or a shoe-whore. So, in Cam’s mind, someone like herself who enjoyed having a wide variety of weapons at her disposal was, in fact, a gun-whore.

  The security door to the DTRA building swung open and Ghost, together with two security personnel, waved them over. Bear and Cam double-timed it inside the building just as another flash of light streaked across the sky.

  Chapter 26

  Defense Threat Reduction Agency

  Fort Belvoir, Virginia

  Ghost ushered the duo through security and hurried them down the hallway to the Jackal’s office. After some pleasantries were exchanged, Cam and Bear were briefed on how the Jackal had searched for the Starhopper. Then she explained how she’d narrowed down the location of the satellite phone to the Darién Gap. A large television monitor had been wheeled into her office on an aluminum easel that she accessed via Bluetooth. An image of the region was displayed for the group to study as she and Ghost led the briefing.

  Ghost gave the team a general overview. “Panama’s location connecting Central and South America has made it a key transit point for the transportation of drugs and human trafficking out of Colombia, with the ultimate destination being the States.

  “The Panamanian government is well known for negotiating areas of refuge for drug cartels and other criminal organizations, especially in what is widely known as the most dangerous jungle in the world—the Darién Gap.”

  The Jackal added to Ghost’s statement from a law enforcement perspective. “Panama has an extremely weak judicial system and high levels of corruption that have allowed transnational cartels and money launderers to stake a claim in the region. Between the Colombian guerilla groups and the Mexican drug cartels, this stretch of Panama is completely lawless.”

  Ghost continued. “What makes the Darién Gap the most dangerous jungle in the world is more than the wide variety of animals, reptiles, and insects that are deadly, but this conglomeration of brutal criminal enterprises we’ve described. Basically, Panama has ceded the territory to them in exchange for staying away from the Panama Canal Zone, which, as you know, is critical to the free flow of goods through the Americas.”

  Cam pointed to the map. “This is a big area to cover, and from what I can see, half of it is in Panama and the lower half is in Colombia.”
>
  Ghost interrupted her. “That’s why the politics of this are complicated. Despite the circumstances, Colombia would insist upon being involved in any rescue effort. They would never allow our military on their soil unaccompanied, even to rescue the heroes who saved the planet from destruction.”

  “Freakin’ idiots,” mumbled Bear.

  “I can’t disagree, Lieutenant,” Ghost continued. “Then, from the Panamanian perspective, their unholy alliance with these criminals prevents them from sanctioning any U.S. military involvement in that region, especially in the Darién Gap.”

  “Let me guess,” started Bear. “We’re on our own, right?”

  “Obvi,” replied Cam as she gave her partner a playful shove. She turned to Ghost. “Sir, if you’ve confirmed that the radio is active and there are no verbal transmissions, can we assume we’re dealing with a hostage situation?”

  Ghost gestured to the Jackal and stepped aside. She changed the screen and provided an overview of the jungle. “We believe Gunner and the Starhopper crew are somewhere in this vicinity near the Atrato River. With our satellites falling like dominoes, I’ve been unable to identify a precise location, but I can say with a degree of certainty they are in the region of the jungle referred to as Peye on the map.”

  “Aptly named, I might add,” said Ghost.

  “Why’s that?” asked Bear.

  “In Colombia, the word peye is most commonly used as an adjective that denotes something bad. They mean it.”

  Cam sighed and stood. She walked toward the monitor and turned to the Jackal. “You have to have some idea within this radius, don’t you?”

  “I do. I accessed the DEA database to find the GPS coordinates of known drug cartel hideouts and residences of their kingpins. Unlike the Mexican cartels, who pride themselves on having large ranches and elaborate homes, the Colombians tend to live simply, using the jungle’s foliage and tree canopies to avoid detection from our prying eyes. That said, there are several in the Peye region.”

  “We’ll do a flyby and get a closer look,” suggested Bear.

  “Not a good idea, Lieutenant,” cautioned Ghost. “A flyby is suggested, but not a closer look as you said. Your bird will be equipped with sufficient long-range optics to determine where the Starhopper crashed, and then you can triangulate that position with the known cartel locations within the surrounding jungle. If you fly in low, you could be seen. If our people are held hostage, they’ll die, and then you’ll find yourself in one helluva firefight. This mission requires surprise, not muscle.”

  “Roger that, sir,” said Cam, who was taking the lead on this mission. She turned to the Jackal. “I assume you can give us the benefit of all this intel for the flight south.”

  “Already set, Major,” said Ghost, who continued, “Together with your flight plan, a landing zone identified, and an extraction plan.”

  “How are we getting there?” asked Bear. “It’s too far for a chopper, and I doubt a pilot will wanna ferry us through the meteorites crashing to Earth.”

  “Well, as luck would have it, elements of the USS Harry S. Truman Carrier Strike Group 8 were redeployed to the Caribbean Sea as part of the Defense Department’s goal to guard our southern flank from any ill-advised Russian hostilities. We’ve got your gear ready and we’ll get you to the Truman CSG. From there, you’ll be on your own. As is always the case, you’re disavowed with no support and no love from Washington.”

  “Are we going in by water or land, sir?” asked Bear.

  “They’ll probably have an HH-60H Seahawk bearing Panamanian Coast Guard flags. This will let you avoid scrutiny by either government. Plus, everything is in disarray down there. One more rescue chopper in the air won’t garner any attention.”

  Cam was antsy, anxious to leave, but she had another question. “Sir, if we’re disavowed, what do we do after we find Gunner and our astronauts?”

  Ghost quickly replied, “Bring them back to the Truman and I’ll deal with the consequences of the operation.”

  Bear spoke up. “What about those three Russian assholes who killed Heather?”

  The room fell silent, as those responsible for her murder were on all of their minds.

  Ghost turned to Cam. “Major, this is your op once you leave this office. I trust you’ll use your best judgment and discretion based upon conditions on the ground.”

  “Roger that, sir. Let’s go, Bear.”

  Nothing else had to be said.

  Chapter 27

  NORAD

  Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

  President Mack Watson paced the battle cab deep inside NORAD. The White House physician had forced him, with the assistance of the First Lady, Patty, to return to his bedroom for some rest. That had lasted about thirty minutes before he surreptitiously evaded the two gatekeepers outside his door and made his way back to the center of activity at NORAD.

  The nation was under attack, not from a foreign enemy, but from something natural or, in many respects, supernatural. In a way, it was poetic justice that the brunt of the meteorite activity was directed toward Russia.

  Moscow had kept their knowledge of IM86 secreted away, allowing their greed to get in the way of what was best for humanity. Based upon NASA’s data and the intelligence reports, the Russians were incapable of accomplishing the complicated diversion techniques to steer the asteroid away from destroying the planet.

  It was all about firsts and one-upmanship for Putin. He was constantly thwarted from reconstituting the former Soviet Union through a combination of U.S. foreign policy and covert countermeasures. His level of jealousy for all things related to America resulted in a rash decision to keep the details of this planet-killing asteroid hidden from the rest of the world.

  As a result, the late-developing mission had caused the bulk of the debris field to wreak havoc on Eurasia, which stretched from Eastern Europe to North Korea. Power outages, destroyed buildings, and loss of life were being reported across Mother Russia.

  President Watson, however, was unconcerned at the moment with what was happening beyond the borders of the country he loved. He was singularly focused on helping Americans through this catastrophe, one that was unparalleled in modern history.

  The largest reported meteorite, with a width of three hundred yards, had struck in a desolate part of Southwestern Nevada near Boundary Peak. Located in the White Mountains at the border of California and Nevada, it rose thirteen thousand feet above sea level, the highest point in the state.

  Or it was, anyway. The impact of the large meteorite struck the peak with the force of a thousand atomic bombs, obliterating it and nearby Montgomery Peak. The rocky debris from the blast created a mushroom cloud reminiscent of a nuclear detonation. As the rock and dirt lifted skyward, creating the stem of the mushroom, a cap formed at the top, spreading out laterally. The vaporized rock was fused into small molten spherules, soaring into the atmosphere as a giant plume of white-hot marbles.

  At the top of the mushroom cloud, these spherules cooled, solidified and began a rapid descent back to Earth in a two-hundred-mile radius of the impact crater that was once Boundary Peak.

  As the spherules rained down upon the Western United States, friction with the atmosphere heated them up once again, creating a pulse of hot, infrared radiation, much like the way a heating coil in an oven emits heat. The spherules traveled at near the speed of light as they returned to Earth.

  People were caught unaware from San Francisco to Portland, and from Las Vegas to Salt Lake City. All at once, in this entire region, the incredible heat pulse generated by the spherules cooked anything that was alive. Only those located in adequate shelters were spared unless they were standing too close to glass windows.

  The brightly lit hotels and casinos were pulverized as windows were shattered and millions of light bulbs were splattered with the debris. Those who didn’t die from the intense heat were killed or badly injured by the flying glass.

  Throughout the Sierra Nevada and the famed Yosemi
te National Park, wildfires burned out of control, threatening to wipe out all plant material as far south as the Sequoia National Forest.

  The destruction caused by the impact at Boundary Peak would be seen as the worst of the remnants of IM86. The death toll would be the largest of any across the planet, and the cost of rebuilding was beyond estimation. However, the concerns were even more dire for President Watson.

  An environmental disaster threatened the entire country. One that environmental engineers had warned Washington about for many years.

  One hundred miles to the southeast of the impact crater at Boundary Peak was Yucca Mountain. By comparison, at an elevation of sixty-seven hundred square feet, the mountain was dwarfed by the larger peaks of the Sierra Nevada. But its stature was not its claim to fame.

  Forty years prior to the arrival of IM86, Yucca Mountain became a high-level nuclear waste repository, one of the largest in the world. An estimated eighty thousand metric tons of long-term storage of nuclear waste had built up over the years, despite warnings of scientists that the former volcanic mountain had characteristics rendering it unsuitable to store the highly irradiated nuclear material.

  The seismic fault lines that ran on both sides of the mountain were said to make the repository unstable. While there was little chance of future volcanic activity in the long-dormant volcano, the possibility of earthquakes was always a concern for geologists.

  The United States Geological Survey, the USGS, had contacted NORAD about unusual seismic activity following the impact at Boundary Peak. Traditional areas of heightened monitoring like the Hayward Fault, east of San Francisco, and the Sierra Nevada Fault that ran along the eastern edge of the Sierra Nevada mountain block at the California-Nevada border, were showing signs of stress.

  Sandwiched in between these two major fault lines was the Long Valley Caldera, one of the most underrated, potentially destructive volcanic systems in the Americas.