Chapter Five

Author's Note: Let me just say that the research in this fic - Radiation decay, Geiger Counters (counts per minute - what makes a lethal radiation dose) etc etc. etc... is driving me slowly INSANE! Psychological trauma after a traumatic event such as this nuclear holocaust: How much background radiation can you get from the reactor core of a nuclear ballistic missile submarine; how much radiation seepage can you get from a nuclear warhead - you name it. I'm researching it.

Just for your information: The real USS Birmingham is designated SSN-695 and is a Los Angeles class SSN (attack sub not a boomer) and the Ohio class boomers are designated SSBN-7## as opposed to 5##. The SSBN Birmingham is fictitious – much like the Seahawk…so any real Navy personnel, bear with me. As you know, I'm a civvie puke.

Cheyenne Mountain Complex, Cheyenne Mountain, Wyoming. Office Commanding Officer,

North American Aerospace Defense Command, 18 weeks Post-Apocalypse

"Mr. Secretary, it appears that Mt. Storm has declared independence; we haven't heard anything out of them since our last communiqué almost six weeks ago." General Stafford stated to the waiting SECNAV. "I do not know what their plans are. Nor am I aware of their intent, whether they plan to ally with us; to be hostile to the North American Alliance, or if they plan to be neutral. Sir, are you the ranking member of the leadership? Sir?" Stafford wanted clarification.

"It appears that I am." Former Secretary of the Navy, Edward Sheffield assured, his voice still a bit shaky after the stress of the preceding weeks. "My Chief of Staff. Commander Tracy Manetti is here as well. The Joint Chiefs were relocated here and are still alive. But there are no ranking politicians. Most were caught unawares. Can you tell me exactly what the leadership is at Cheyenne?"

"Well, sir, it is three generals and a number of O-6 and O-5s, these are a combination of the services: Air Force, Navy, Marine Corps and Army. We will give you the exact number when we are able to make a breakdown of the chain of command." Stafford replied looking over at his staff who realized this was a task that the general had just given them.

"Very well. I await the information when you are able to." the radio crackled; the communication from Crow Rock was breaking up due to fluctuations in the radiation and weather. As far as they were concerned, the radio comms interference was a major sign that all was still not ripe for their departure from Cheyenne Mountain. General Stafford nodded as he gave the signal for the radio tech to cut comms before there was a complete breakdown in communications.

"Alright, people. Looks like the radiation is affecting comms. We're stuck in here for the foreseeable future. We'll have to start making some hard decisions on food stocks." Stafford indicated to his staff. "I want to know what is crucial. Get the medical staff doing psychological profiles and physical evaluations. We are going to have to switch to survival mode to get through the next few years. Radiological. I want accurate rad-counts every three hours on the hour. Let's get on it, people."

"Yes sir!" was his staff's response.

General Stafford looked over at General Horner. "It appears that our former SecNAV is our de facto leader of the North American Alliance." The sense of relief was palpable amongst those in the room. At least they had someone whom they could take orders from. "He's the only surviving political leader that we have at the very moment. Others could pop up from other vaults, but unfortunately, at the moment. Crow Rock is all that we have communications with. BMDCOM is currently down at the moment so all our ballistic missile subs are essentially without comms. Gentlemen, Ladies…we are essentially cut off from the rest of our people. We are going it alone and we have no assistance from anyone else at least conceivably until such time as radiation levels go down to a point where egress from the shelter is possible."

General Horner continued as Stafford paused. "Colonel Mitscher, do you have any thoughts?" he asked.

Colonel Mitscher, their radiological expert stated. "Technically, scientists have stated that it is possible for people to work outdoors 2 weeks post-Apocalypse without too much problem for a few hours a day. As quoted in the report: Within two weeks after an attack the occupants of most shelters could safely stop using them, or could work outside the shelters for an increasing number of hours each day. Exceptions would be in areas of extremely heavy fallout such as might occur downwind from important targets attacked with many weapons, especially missile sites and very large cities. To know when to come out safely, occupants either would need a reliable fallout meter to measure the changing radiation dangers, or must receive information based on measurements made nearby with a reliable instrument. We were attacked by several large nuclear weapons measuring in the low mega tonnage yield, so thus we are playing it safe and staying in-doors in shelter for at least a full year until the surrounding radiation is such that we do not mistakenly take a lethal dosage of radiation while outdoors. This will not help our situation if we incapacitate large numbers of our people with radiation sickness. We have enough supplies to last out the radiation in the shelter for at least a year."

"Colonel Murdoch…" General Horner asked. "What sort of psychological traumas should we be aware of in the shelter population?" The unsaid question was what sort of nut jobs could we expect to have crack in the face of this nuclear war?

Colonel Joanna Murdoch, Air Force medical officer and clinical physician, as well as psychological specialist, stated. "Well, The primary psychological abnormality which develops in severe stress or disaster situations is a transient, fluid state of emotional disruption. This occurs when individuals cannot cope with the danger presented to them by their environment. Its major features are fear and the results therefrom. The fear develops largely from the individual's inability to make meaningful decisions or initiate purposeful actions; and, as a result, even minor decisions become difficult to make. A vicious circle of fear-inaction-fear may ensue, and the individual involved may become ineffective. This may vary in degree all the way from very mild impairment of effectiveness to complete helplessness. Panic, defined as frantic, irrational behavior associated with real or supposed trapping, probably would be rare, since it has been found to be rare in other disaster situations. Precipitous flight with direction and purpose is not panic and should be considered a psychologically useful and practical response to the situation." She paused for a long moment while that information took the time to sink in to the people in the briefing room. "The characteristic disturbances which would occur include: stunned mute behavior, uncontrolled flight, tearful helplessness, apathetic depression, inappropriate activity, increased tension, or preoccupation with somatic representations. These disturbances can last for minutes, hours, days, or sometimes weeks. Longer term reactions may include phobias, survivor guilt, and psychosomatic symptoms. Fortunately, patients with the milder and shorter disturbances are in the majority. The survivor's guilt can be allayed by sympathetic responses. Phobias and psychosomatic symptoms may take more time and actual psychological therapy to counter. Inappropriate activity could be a combination of psychoses related mental illnesses or inappropriate sexual activity or others along the DSMIV spectrum (that is the Psychiatric Disorders. Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorder, Fourth Edition) classification."

"Would you classify that certain individuals could be a danger to their shelter-mates?" Lieutenant Commander Beth Hawkes inquired cautiously.

"Yes, Lieutenant Commander. The potential psychoses that could result from this traumatic event can range from schizophrenia all the way to psychopathic behavior. In those cases strict removal from the rest of the shelter occupants is an absolute necessity." Col. Murdoch indicated.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia, Corridor 7, Unit 16, 19 weeks Post-Apocalypse

She quietly read a book as she awaited Hambly and Mauch. They had been planning a raid on the water reclamation facility for a few days. But it would be a few weeks still before they put the plan into action. Tossing a few liters of soap into the water should cause upset stomachs but not poison the entire crew…and it would cause enough people to sicken to throw the leadership into chaos. Killing people would provoke a lethal response from the leadership; however a non-lethal attack would cause disarray and a lessening of faith in the current people leading the group, which was their objective all-along.

So if that was their objective, why were they waiting?

They were gauging the reaction of the people right now. Right now the shelter occupants not Privileged were disgruntled, but wouldn't tie the attack of their water supply to the vulnerability of their leadership. Whereas, given a few weeks for discontent to ferment, the reaction would be that much more volatile. But how could they throw in a few kinks of their own to make the discontent more virulent?

Possibly a few skeptical words here and their on the ability of their current leadership to effectively manage things? Sow discontent and sabotage the reputation of their leadership – that was the handbook on anarchy. She smiled to herself. Now she had a plan.

USS Birmingham SSBN-588, Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean, 19 weeks Post-Apocalypse

"Commander Turner. What's the radiation readings?"

"According to the meter, it's at a steady two hundred fifty counts per minute. It's elevated but we need to take directional readings. But certainly a better count than it was last week," Sturgis replied as he double-checked the Geiger counter readings.

"Five more minutes maximum at periscope depth, Commander, and then we dive for safer waters." Captain Van Buren replied. They were still headed directly south and their estimated time of arrival at the base would be within the following week. They were a nuclear sub, but still nursing their energy levels, was a matter of safety precaution. Their rations in less than four weeks would be precipitously low, so they had to get to McMurdo if they were going to survive.

But the crew had faith in the direction of Captain Van Buren and they would move heaven and earth to do what they had to do to get to Antarctica and the possibility of safety there.

"If it drops below 70 counts per minute, Commander." Captain Van Buren stated. "Then we know we're safe. So when we reach McMurdo Station, we take a radiation count before we set foot on the continent."

"Agreed, sir." Commander Turner stated.

Freedom Bunker, Somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains, 19 weeks Post-Apocalypse.

Rachel was looking through the map that Billy Joe had brought in the bunker before the bombs dropped. Their personal radiation counter was showing that the levels of radiation that they were going through were less than they were before. Saul was showing a few signs of radiation sickness though the signs were mild – at 19 weeks, he was showing signs of weakness and fatigue, coupled with nausea and vomiting. This was combated by his drinking lots of water to rehydrate him. This wasn't a government bunker and the radiation seepage was more than what it would have been in a military grade bunker which could potentially be cut right down to zero with their four foot thick blast-doors.

Their rations were getting low with the numbers of people in their shelter and it was only a matter of time before they had to take their chances outside of the shelter. By this time, since they were in the mountains, they could conceivably exit the shelter for short periods of time, though watching the radiation Geiger counter they had. There had been two nuclear detonations at Harrisburg: one taking out the regional airport, one taking out the municipal airport. In fact anything with a runway was a nuclear target and the resultant radiation from those two blasts were what made Saul ill. But they considered themselves lucky – it could have been much worse. They could have been near a high-value target such as a large city. Then they would have been dead. Their shelter would not have been of any value if a five-megaton nuclear weapon such as the ones that hit Washington DC had landed near them.

Ballistic Missile Submarine October Revolution; McMurdo Station 19 Weeks Post-Apocalypse

"Comrade Captain" the helmsman said. "All engines full-stop." The big ballistic missile submarine tied up at the deserted dock.

"Radiation count." Captain Semyanov barked out.

"It is 73 counts per minute." One of the seamen stated as he held a geiger counter to measure the count on the doc itself. "Slightly elevated from background radiation, but livable, Comrade Captain."

Captain Semyanov sighed in relief. At least there was hope in this new life. Eventually, the planet would recover, but until then, the Antarctic would be a lifeboat for human existence. It would be a harsh existence but one where they would have to live in for the foreseeable future and then perhaps their descendants would be able to return to the Southern Hemisphere to live eventually and mankind would make a foothold again on the planet.

Russian nuclear missile crews were mostly all male, however the last few years in the Rodina, the amalgamation of the sexes in crews was starting to take place. Semyanov's crew actually had a sprinkling of women officers. There were First Lieutenant Olga Alexeyeva; blonde haired, blue-eyed, and a consummate navigator, Sub-Lieutenant Nadya Limonova; a sonar officer and several others. Their mixed crew was viewed with some trepidation, however, the crew worked well contrary to the belief from older officers that women were a disruptive influence in the fleet. And the rationale that the ballistic missile subs should be crewed by mixed crews made sense. How would humanity regenerate itself after such a war if there were no women left to procreate with…if there were even any survivors afterwards?

"We shall retain our position in the submarine…however we will make exploratory treks out to the main buildings of McMurdo Station in order to see if there is any way to replenish our foodstocks. Maintain radiation count." Captain Semyanov indicated. "Also check and see if there were any survivors at McMurdo Station. Petty Officer Second Class Goremykin, you are in charge of the first scouting party. Seaman Delov, Yozhin, Kedrov and Pokrovsky; you will accompany them. Arm yourselves accordingly. If you encounter Americans, indicate your friendliness. We are allies…in this post-war world. The politicians were the ones making us enemies. Thank goodness they are all dead. Keep in constant radio contact. And return quickly if there are any spikes in radiation. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Comrade Captain." The search party chorused in unison, like well-trained sailors of the Rodina.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia – Armory – 20 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Victor was looking very apprehensive as he looked over at Animal. "The rumblings of discontent are getting more ominous. I hear it in the cafeteria when I make some food runs. It seems like things are starting to get bad, sir. And I don't know if we can head it off if they try something."

"Have we got an idea of who the ringleaders are?" Animal asked. This wasn't looking good at all. All they needed was for some disgruntled shelter occupant to sabotage supplies. "Who else can we recruit to our cause to keep Boone as leader?"

"The shelter guards, they're the ones feeding me the information of who has approached them as agitators and troublemakers." Victor replied looking at his list of people. "Problem is, sir, we crack down too hard and the troublemakers gain strength. People get bitter and think they have nothing left to lose with open rebellion."

Animal snorted sarcastically. "So, it's the old carrot and stick method, right?" Animal wondered just how the late Chegwidden knew that Gunny Galindez would be the eyes and ears of their group, but he had to thank that old crusty SEAL's memory that the late admiral had the ability to think things through in advance and set them up with one of the best damned non-coms in the business of intelligence-gathering. Galindez knew how to get info out of people and work them over to his side.

"Yes, sir, it looks that way." The former Gunny stated. "And. Sir, I'd keep an eye on Mackenzie too, it appears she's thrown her lot in with the troublemakers."

Animal sighed. He knew it would have come down to this after seeing Mac's reaction when the bombs went off. She had lost control of her rigidly tight world and everything was coming apart at the seams for her. She made a major mistake when she threw her lot in with Simone and his trouble-making bunch. The punishments were harsh for troublemaking that threatened the security of the installation and the sentence for that would be death; by exposure – in other words excommunication from the shelter to take their chances with the elements and radiation. But in order to excommunicate her from the shelter would have to be the result of overt action on the troublemakers' part, not a preemptive arrest. A preemptive arrest would make more trouble for Boone. He noted that to Victor and said. "Let's keep a watch on her, a watch on the targets that they will most likely hit, and then arrest them if they make an overt move on those targets. Then we will have a fulcrum to sway public opinion of the effectiveness of the leadership."

"That sounds good, sir." Victor could not get out of referring to his former superiors as sir and included Animal in that bunch as he was the highest ranking of the bunch with the exception of Tom Boone himself but the former rear admiral upper half had proven himself a worthy man and Victor respected him implicitly. Though Mackenzie had brought him into JAG, Victor had seen just how much the trauma of seeing nuclear devastation had wrought on the former Marine Lieutenant Colonel and that she had psychologically fragmented into psychosis and that respect had melted away into suspicion of her actions. In fact, Victor wouldn't put it past her to pull off an attack on the water supply. Not immediately fatal, but it would bring the shelter to its knees. Humans needed water to survive even more than food. And she could put something in the water that would cause illness. He needed to tell the admiral that the likely first target would be the water supply. "Sir, my suspicion is that the water supply is the first likely target the troublemakers will go after. Not to kill anyone, but to make people ill to the point where they can't maintain the shelter." Animal looked at him…this Boone needed to know.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia – Tunnel 7, 20 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Danny Zhou was making his way down the tunnel measuring doing his inspection of the facility. Routine checks of the facility needed to be done in order to keep up the facility during the period of occupation. It was a lonely job but someone had to do it. When he was doing these checks, he wasn't armed; it was only within the installation. All he had was his knowledge of martial arts to protect him.

Tunnel Seven had to rank as one of the eeriest corridors in the facility. Constantly foggy with condensation dripping off the rock covered walls, it was just like in that movie. "Aliens", Danny thought. He wondered about what he would see in that corridor – hell if that Xenomorph came out of the mist, he'd shit himself.

The maintenance inspection involved checking each and every valve, and electrical connection to make sure that there wasn't any tampering done. And each corridor was done – one a day by each individual maintenance worker. As Danny was one of the military facility techs, he was the one slated to oversee each inspection by the civilian techs. And this was one of the oversight checks that he was assigned to do. It wasn't a pleasant task by any means considering the corridors needing to be checked but it was a necessary task. And the one thing on his mind was the fact that the shelter was insuring his survival. That's why he had to make absolutely certain that everything was as it should be. It made him focus his concentration on making sure that all the bolts were tight, all the valves were in the positions that they needed to be in and all the connections were tight. It was that concentration that prevented him from seeing the approach of a dark figure dressed in black, who brought up a small piece of rebar pried from the framework and filed into a club-like object, covered with cloth to prevent it from killing him and smashed him in the side of the head, causing him to collapse to the ground, blood leaking from his nose.

The retreating footsteps of that figure were unheard as Danny was unconscious before he hit the ground.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia – Armory – 20 weeks Post-Apocalypse 5 hrs later

"Where's Danny?" Katrina O'Grady asked the rest of the armory occupants. "Wasn't he supposed to be back from the oversight inspection by now?"

Animal looked over at the young weapons tech… "Wasn't he inspecting one of the Tunnels?" he asked.

"Yes, sir." Katrina stated. "But he was supposed to be back an hour ago."

Animal looked over at Harm. Nothing further had to be said. "You two keep guard on the armory." Walking over to the Armory locker, he grabbed MP5-A5s and several magazines loaded with 9x19 Luger (Parabellum). These MP5s were the original 9x19 chambered MP5s, not the piddly-ass .22LR chambered ones that the civilians got to plink with, the Luger 9x19 hit hard. Handed one to Victor, one to Harm and another to Gerry, a former Green Beret special forces type who nodded. They needed to go retrieve him and make sure that he was alright.

But it didn't sound good at all. Normally if anyone missed their check-in time, they would be considered either deserted or severely injured. And of the two, the latter seemed that it could potentially be the case. So, Harm, Victor, Gerry and Animal nodded to each other. They would check all the tunnels as a group.

Crow Rock, Blue Mountain Ridge, Pennsylvania, 20 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Commander Tracy Manetti sighed looking at the computer readouts. The entire facility was Faraday-caged so that the computers were still functional even after the EMP blast. However the readouts still were sobering. The fallout pattern from the 5 MT surface blasts that obliterated Dulles did encompass Crow Rock, and thus the sobering realization that the area surrounding their shelter was now considered a hot-zone. That meant that they wouldn't be able to come out for the next thirty years with the Cesium-137 contamination ever-present. The shelter was smaller than the facility that should have housed them, which was Mt. Storm, however the shelter still had enough food to last them for that duration of time as well as stores to create more food.

Considering the Joint Chiefs of Staff were in the bunker, it was a rather untenable situation with the radiation belt surrounding them. If Dulles hadn't been in the target equation, which the belief of such miracle was a fallacy, the simple fact was that two surface impact Dong Feng missiles had blown such a major crater in the international airport that if any precipitation fell, it would create a new radioactive lake where the airport once stood.

Of all the places where she could be stuck in, Crow Rock had to be one of the most miserable to live in. She was surrounded by senior officers, the lowest ranking of which was a Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Army, but equivalent to her O-5 rank. The military was an obsolete institution in this post nuclear apocalyptic landscape but Crow Rock and Cheyenne Mountain were sticking to it and it was fine where people who were non-friends were able to work together with that sort of structure. However it was times like this where she wished that she were able to be at Mount Storm with people she knew and cared about. There was a loneliness in Crow Rock that couldn't be allayed because every officer around her was either higher rank than her with the exception of Lieutenant Colonel Shirelle McNeely, United States Army, Communications-Electronics Command. The flipside of the benefits of tying one's life to her godfather's career was that she was stuck in this hell-hole without her friends that she had made at JAG.

The fact that the Russians had hit Camp David with an 800kT SS-21 warhead had put another crimp in the escape vector of Crow Rock. That put them in the middle-pattern of fallout and any movement in that sort of radiation would result in lethal doses being sustained inside of minutes. Of course, four months after the fact, the radiation probably would have gone down far enough that they could conceivably escape, but the long-lasting Iodine 131 and Cesium 137 would probably take root and do their damage. In that regard, it probably would be much safer to stay ensconced in their shelter for the foreseeable future.

If that wasn't bad enough, Crow Rock itself got socked with an 800kT SS-21, which caused their lights to flicker and probably blew out all the transmission towers at the surface and melted them into a molten pile of hardened steel. At least that one appeared to be an air-burst for maximum damage, which didn't add much to the fall-out pattern except for whatever was destroyed in the fireball which did happen to touch the earth. The only benefit of being stuck in Crow Rock was that it was just as hardened as the shelters like Cheyenne Mountain and Mount Storm. They were hardened to plus-5MT range and were radiation sealed so that there was no rise in radiation dosage. As long as they stayed in the shelter, they would be safe. The secondary exit from Crow Rock was also blast and radiation-hardened and was in a section on the mountain facing away from the blast.

Like her counterparts at the other locations, she wondered just how long their stay was and whether they would be sane by the end of it all.

Ballistic Missile Submarine October Revolution; McMurdo Station 20 Weeks Post-Apocalypse

"You were right, Comrade." Captain Gruschev indicated to Captain Semyanov. "We have found many foodstuffs in the buildings. But the Americans deserted this place many months before hand. Perhaps they found their way back to the mainland before the missiles hit or chose to die with the rest of their countrymen. But for all that, I am glad that we are alive and that there are no more politicians to continue their feuds."

Captain Semyanov looked at his friend and comrade-in-arms. "Viktor Ivanovich, my friend. It is fortuitous that we have no more politicians. In the Rodina the politicians, corrupt as they were, were all out for money. When the rich make war it's the poor that die." He stated quoting an old Russian proverb. "Those of us who survive are the lucky ones or unlucky, whatever the case may be."

"Comrade Captain, we have a sonar contact. We are tied up at the surface…and unable to respond." The sonarman interrupted Captain Semyanov's contemplation.

Freedom Bunker, Somewhere in the Appalachian Mountains, 20 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Wind was 25 degrees north-east when the fallout had come less than 6 hours from the blast. The fallout had been from a 5MT bomb that had hit Yeager Airport in West Virginia. Normally something like that wouldn't have been hit considering it was a regional airport; however the WVANG had stationed their C-130s there – named Yeager Airport something like Charlestown Air National Guard Base.

"Saul ain't gettin' any better." Rachel muttered at Billy Joe. "He's vomiting up his stomach, can't keep a thing down and he's weak as a kitten."

Billy Joe replied caustically. "It's that damn bomb, that's what it is. It's the fallout. The Chinee hit Yeager and we got it thanks to the wind-drift. We need to find out if any hospitals are still workin'. Or Saul's just gonna get sicker."

"But that means we gotta go out in this stuff." Rachel objected, her eyes wild with fear. "Billy Joe…what if the rest of us get sick from this stuff Saul's got."

"Naw, Rachel, Fight fire with fire. We gotta go. If Saul gets sicker he just becomes a handicap." Billy Joe replied trading glances with the rest of the people in the shelter. "…'sides, I'm sure the fallout's gotten less. Ain't never could do nothin'!"

Timmy spoke up…fingering his rifle, "Billy Joe. I'm a God-fearin' man, but this fallout stuff is evil as evil does. It's made Saul sicker'n a dog n' it could do the same fer us." He shook his head. "I ain't comin'. Yer gonna have to git someone else to do it this time."

Billy Joe looked over at the rest of the group. "Any volunteers?"

USS Birmingham SSBN-588, Somewhere in the Southern Ocean, 20 weeks Post-Apocalypse

"Periscope Depth". Captain Van Buren called out. "Radiation counts!"

"Aye aye, sir!" came a chorus of replies from the sailors in the Birmingham as they scrambled to do his bidding. They wouldn't break surface except for the periscope, but take a reading to point their way to McMurdo Station.

Sturgis had walked up to Captain Van Buren. "How much longer, sir, till we reach McMurdo Sound?"

Captain Van Buren looked at Sturgis. "Getting a bit claustrophobic? Commander?" he chuckled wryly.

Sturgis gave him an amused look. "You might say that, sir."

"Well, we still have a day's sailing yet. We need to know just how much ice we have to trek between where we full-stop at ice edge and the station." Captain Van Buren said. I don't think they have a port per se." What he didn't say was what they might possibly find there. If the Russians had managed to get to McMurdo before they did, then there could potentially be hostilities. However Captain Van Buren was a pragmatic man. He wouldn't exhibit hostilities until the enemy tipped off their hand. The worst case scenario would be a Russian ship with a hostile commander and a ship's magazine of weapons. Considering the only complement of weapons that the Birmingham carried were it's Mk. 48 torpedoes, the Birmingham would get one shot in before the Russians obliterated it. CAPT Van Buren just hoped it didn't come to that. He hoped that most Russians believed that their government was no longer functional and any orders that came were thought through before implemented.

As far as McMurdo Sound was concerned, with the current drop in temperature of over 8 degrees, Captain Van Buren knew that there was a long trek overland from where the ships tied up to get to McMurdo Station. As in most SSBNs that had to station themselves in inhospitable locations, the Birmingham had a lot of cold-weather gear stocked up. This way they would be able to make certain that all sailors were protected in the hostile environment of the Antarctic. CAPT Van Buren noted with the ocean topographical maps that there was a shallow continental shelf near McMurdo Station. Before they proceeded onto that shelf, they needed to do a radiation check to make sure that there wasn't any radiation at McMurdo and that was a necessity to ensure that the area was habitable for the foreseeable future.

Ballistic Missile Submarine October Revolution; McMurdo Station 20 Weeks Post-Apocalypse

Captain Gruschev asked "Arkady Timosevich, The sonar contact, do you perhaps think that it could be American?"

"Viktor Ivanovich. Anyone who is on the surface in the northern hemisphere is either dead or dying. It is either an American contact or a Russian one. All we can do is wait and see and hope that whoever it is, is not an American cowboy." Captain Semyanov replied as he scratched his chin, "It would be the ultimate of ironies if we were to be sunk by an American torpedo after we have come all this way to the Antarctic to survive."

"Comrade, I'm not sure I find your humor in this." Captain Gruschev replied wryly. "However, we shall wait and see. No hail!" he returned to the sonarman who promptly replied.

"Yes, Comrade Captain."

USS Birmingham SSBN-588, Somewhere in the Southern Ocean, 20 weeks Post-Apocalypse

"Sir, we were just pinged." A sonarman indicated to Captain Van Buren. "It was a passive sonar ping, not active. What should we do."

CAPT Van Buren was silent for a long moment.

"Sir. Would it be best if we armed Mk. 48s?" Commander Turner asked.

"WEPS, load one into Tube 2, passively determine where the sub is. If it's at the surface we know the contact isn't hostile. It's probably docked at McMurdo." Van Buren replied.

"Load one Mark 48, Tube 2, passively locate sub, aye!" WEPS replied.

"Sturgis, you know as well as I do that a passive sonar ping is not a sub actively looking for us. We just popped up in their contacts, but they're not doing anything about it." Captain Van Buren looked over at Turner and raised an eyebrow. "What does that tell you?"

"They're not being hostile?"

"Correct, Commander. It's more than likely either an American or a Russian survivor and at this point they're not about to be actively hostile because they don't know what we're carrying." Captain Van Buren was reassured that Turner was not a gung-ho…damn the torpedoes type of officer. He didn't need that on his boat.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia, Tunnel 4, 20 weeks Post-Apocalypse

The hostile looks that pervaded the shelter didn't lessen as the men toted their HK5-A5s in ready position as they made their search down the tunnels. Animal and Harm kept a sharp look-out as they looked down each tunnel, looking for Danny. The looks didn't concern Animal, nor Harm, their only goal was to find Danny .

Bud looked over at Gerry and Gunny as the both of them hefted their weapons. They looked worried as they didn't see any sign of Danny anywhere in the tunnels they had searched so far.

"Did you know which one Danny was supposed to inspect this time around?" Animal asked.

"No…he didn't give any indication." Gerry replied.

Animal sighed softly. "We'll just have to search every single one then. How many have we searched so far?"

"Three, sir." Bud replied. The longer they searched, the more vulnerable they were. But they weren't going to leave without Danny; of that much Bud was certain. They'd hunt for him until they were exhausted and dead on their feet. They weren't going to leave him behind. He knew that Harm and Animal would search until they had spent their last bit of energy and then some.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia – Armory – 20 weeks Post-Apocalypse

Katrina looked over at Meg, Jen and Amy. Lisa and Lia were in the maternity ward and were unable to be there, but Kat looked worried. "They've been gone for an awfully long time." She said.

Meg nodded, looking worried as she gazed at the clock on the wall. "They'll be back. We just have to hold down the fort while they're gone."

Jen agreed, "They'll find Danny and be back." The women had weapons within easy reach as they waited for the men to return. Certainly, they were capable military, but they still didn't feel comfortable in this new situation they found themselves in. At least as a group, they could defend themselves with the men guarding the door to the armory and the women backing themselves in the armory however, with the men gone on an urgent search, they were tense.

Amy was silent, but her thoughts were that she hoped they came back soon.

Mt Storm Emergency Facility, Somewhere in the Blue Mountains of Virginia, Tunnel 7, 20 weeks Post-Apocalypse

It had been a long time later, when the men finally reached the Tunnel 7 entrance. They hadn't gone far when they saw a slumped form on the ground. Bud ran over to the slumped form. "It's Danny!" he yelled when he made the identification. Danny's face was ashen, blood had dried on upper lip from the trickle of blood coming from his nose, there was a small pool of it on the ground…and his breathing was shallow and his pulse faint. Gerry joined Bud kneeling beside him. Animal, Harm and Gunny set up a perimeter watching the tunnel passageway.

"Shit…we need a medic." Gerry said. "We can't move him from this area without a stretcher. We don't know if he's got a spinal cord injury."

Animal looked around the tunnel for a loose board or something that they could lay Danny on top of to hold him steady, then Harm shouted. "Hey…we can use the door, take his screwdriver and remove the hinges. We just need to find something to hold his head steady. Animal took off his jacket. "We can use this. Just shape it to his head and two of you can use the door as a stretcher; we'll have to take him to medical." Harm nodded. It was either that or the swelling in his brain would cause brain damage to Danny.

Animal nodded, "Get it done." He continued to watch the corridor as Bud and Gerry removed the door to the maintenance room. It normally was kept shut and locked, but this was an emergency. They'd replace the door later. It was an arduous return to the medical wing of the shelter as they brought Danny in for medical attention. From the doctor's cursory examination, it wasn't looking too good for Danny, however, the fact that they had kept his head steady helped prevent the damage from becoming worse when they had transported him. There was a fully equipped ER in the shelter and the medical staff, small though as it was, was highly trained for trauma injuries such as this one. Hope was all that Danny had, considering he had brain swelling and blunt trauma to the cranial area. The medical staff hustled Danny into op and hopefully they could do something for him to bring the swelling down.

Animal and Harm looked at each other – their rage was growing exponentially and this was the final straw. A brief look at Gunny showed the same thing. Somebody was going to pay for this and those who were the instigators of the dissent were going to feel heat like they never felt it before.