DAYS OF THE APOCALYPSE (Part 1)

Fire Brigade (New Characters)

"Big" Wade Adams - NEMA Fire and Rescue "Roscoe" (7) -NEMA Firefighter's enhanced body
armor, modified NEMA body armor, Neural Mace, NEMA LSR-250 "Sharpshooter" Laser Rifle,
Browning 9mm automatic pistol, (4 extra clips of ammo for each), 8 flares, 2 colored smoke
grenades, vibro-knife, vibro-saber, vibro-fire-ax, fire ax, hand ax, pocket knife, mallet, 6 spikes,
50' rope and pulley system, laser torch, large paramedic's kit, standard gear in fire truck.
[Vehicle of choice: NEMA Fire Truck]
"Big" Wade is interested in saving lives. He thinks little of putting his own life on the line if he
can save civilians. He has found an unlikely partner in the Demon & Witch Hunter, Raven.

Raven Laramie- Demon and Witch Hunter (4) - Light Riot Control Body Armor, NEMA LSR-250
"Sharpshooter" Laser Rifle, 30-06 hunting rifle, (4 ex. Clips for each), Silver-plated sword, 6
flares, mallet, pocket knife, 8 wooden stakes, creature hunting gear. Walkie-talkie, portable
computer, penlight, night-vision goggles.
Raven was a bit of an outcast all her life, loving the stories of monsters and demons that she
read of at the library and the occult shop that her mother ran... until they appeared in the flesh.
Her mother died in the initial appearance of the Rifts when a demon stepped into their shop and
tore her head off in front of her. She has dedicated her life to destroying all demons and those that
associate with them. Not officially a member of NEMA, she operates under the cover of one of
Wade's team.

Du Page Corps.(New Characters)

Shemp Fine - Partial Conversion Cyborg (4) - NEMA Lt. Cyborg Armor, multiple military and
civilian explosives, NEMA Automag AMT Pistol, NEMA PLP-20 "Police Special" Laser Pistol,
NEMA PR-470 "Hot Seat" Plasma Rifle, NEMA MX-144 Combat Bike, First Aid Kit, handcuffs,
Vibro Knife, [Cybernetics of note: climb chord, vibro-blades (concealed), chemical spray, multioptic eyes, gyro-compass, clock/calendar, ultra-ear, bionic lung with filter and oxygen supply]
Shemp was an ordinary NEMA soldier when the coming of the Rifts struck. He was severely
injured the first day of fighting and his body was repaired when bionic replacement parts were
still in good supply. Since then he has tried to come to grips with no longer being entirely human
while trying to save as many lives as he can, using his new body.

Savannah Jones -NEMA Volunteer Militia Fighter (3) - Khaki Uniform, MDC Armored Vest,
standard helmet with visor and air filter, SLR-250 Laser Rifle, M-16 Assault Rifle, Browning
9mm automatic pistol w/ 2 extra clips, silver bullets, 2 smoke grenades, 2 flares, vibro knife,
survival knife, first aid kit, utility belt, flashlight, canteen, cigarette lighter, air filter and gas
mask, walkie-talkie, personal items.

Savannah was a postal worker who, since the coming of the rifts, has taken up an assault rifle
and other weapons in the defense of those who are left. An ordinary woman of extraordinary
courage.

NEMA TEAM BRAVO 69 (New Characters)

Tim Darkmoon -Chromium Guardsman (Glitter-Boy) - CG Power Armor, Standard Issue NEMA
Body Armor, NEMA LSR-250 Laser "Sharpshooter" Laser Rifle, NEMA PLP-20 Laser Pistol,
(extra e-clips for each energy weapon), (2) HE Grenades, (2) Smoke Grenades, (2) flares,
Survival Knife, first aid medical kit, pocket computer, flashlight, disposable lighter, utility belt,
air-filter and gas mask, Walkie-talkie, uniform, dress uniform, combat boots, canteen, NEMA
Automag (ATF) Pistol.
Tim serves as the team's artillery support and heavy-hitter, in conjunction with Sabrina Hazel.
Tim's armor makes him high-profile and actually lends a sense of security to civilians when they
see one of the famed Chromium Guardsmen on patrol or working a mission. Tim is a bit of a ham,
but backed with the power of his CG (later to come into possession of his descendent, Carl
Darkmoon in another 200 years), he is fearless to the point of being foolhardy.

Andy Luke -NEMA Silver Eagle Pilot - Chromium Eagle Power Armor Suit, Standard Issue
NEMA Body Armor, NEMA LSR-250 Laser "Sharpshooter" Laser Rifle, NEMA PLP-20 Laser
Pistol, (extra e-clips for each energy weapon), (2) HE Grenades, (2) Smoke Grenades, (2) flares,
Survival Knife. Vibro-Sword, first aid medical kit, pocket computer, flashlight, disposable lighter,
utility belt, air-filter and gas mask, Walkie-talkie, uniform, dress uniform, combat boots, canteen,
NEMA Automag (ATF) Pistol.
Andy is the team's air support and recon. He is a bit of a show-off, but undoubtedly brave,
rushing into the very jaws of death to save a single human life. Andy is from a long line of fighter
pilots and loves taking the fight to the skies. Andy has a friendly competition going with his highschool sweetheart, Sabrina Hazel and Tim Darkmoon.

Sabrina Hazel -NEMA Armored Sentinel - Gunbuster Power Armor, Mastiff Power Armor
(Personalized with cartoon of Popeye on the shoulder and anchors painted on the forearms),
Standard Issue NEMA Body Armor, NEMA LSR-250 Laser "Sharpshooter" Laser Rifle, NEMA
PLP-20 Laser Pistol, (extra e-clips for each energy weapon), (2) HE Grenades, (2) Smoke
Grenades, (2) flares, Survival Knife, NEMA PR-470 Plasma Rifle (2 canisters and e-clips extra),
NEMA GLR-540 "Thunderer" Grenade Launcher (with crate of 120 spare grenades, usual 1/3rd
split), Vibro-Axe, first aid medical kit, pocket computer, flashlight, disposable lighter, utility belt,
air-filter and gas mask, Walkie-talkie, uniform, dress uniform, combat boots, canteen, NEMA
Automag (ATF) Pistol.
Samantha is the team's tactician, focusing on minimizing casualties and rescue operations.
Samantha used to date Andy back in their high-school days, but decided then that they made
better friends than lovers. Still, she remembers their old relationship fondly. Samantha would
much rather engage in rescue operations instead of fighting, but will duke it out with the best of
them in order to get at victims with remorseless ruthlessness.

Harry Cassidy -NEMA Peacekeeper (Demolitions Expert) - NEMA Fatigues and Dress Uniform,
Standard NEMA Body Armor, LGR-360 Laser Rifle and Grenade Launcher, NEMA 5.56 Assault
Rifle (with mounted grenade launcher), PLP "Police Special" Laser Pistol, (4 extra e-clips for
each weapon and 1 power pack for each energy weapon), (2) Smoke Grenades, tear gas grenade,
(2) explosive grenades, (3) flares, vibro-knife, survival knife, utility belt, canteen, first aid
medical kit, pocket computer, disposable lighter, flashlight, air filter & gas mask, Walkie talkie,
personal items. Fusion Blocks on assignment.
Harry loves explosions. He also loves defusing explosives, with a disdain for "amateur"
bombers that borders on boredom. He was cited once for cracking open a beer while a bomb was
counting down from 1 minute. Harry knows everything about explosives, and can shape charges
to use in rescue and recovery operations.

Danielle "Dani" Alpo -NEMA Peacekeeper (Medic) - NEMA Fatigues and Dress Uniform,
Standard NEMA Body Armor, LGR-360 Laser Rifle and Grenade Launcher, NEMA 5.56 Assault
Rifle (with mounted grenade launcher), PLP "Police Special" Laser Pistol, (4 extra e-clips for
each weapon and 1 power pack for each energy weapon), (2) Smoke Grenades, tear gas grenade,
(2) explosive grenades, (3) flares, vibro-knife, survival knife, utility belt, canteen, first aid
medical kit, pocket computer, disposable lighter, flashlight, air filter & gas mask, Walkie talkie,
personal items. Hover Jeep.
Danielle is more interested in saving lives than in fighting, but still more than willing to fight
the devil himself in order to get to someone that's hurt. She is never far from her hover
jeep/ambulance, and the bible she keeps in the glove compartment. She draws strength from the
lord in these trying times.

Keith Walker -NEMA Peacekeeper (Transportation Specialist) - NEMA Fatigues and Dress
Uniform, Standard NEMA Body Armor, LGR-360 Laser Rifle and Grenade Launcher, NEMA
5.56 Assault Rifle (with mounted grenade launcher), PLP "Police Special" Laser Pistol, (4 extra
e-clips for each weapon and 1 power pack for each energy weapon), (2) Smoke Grenades, tear
gas grenade, (2) explosive grenades, (3) flares, vibro-knife, survival knife, utility belt, canteen,
first aid medical kit, pocket computer, disposable lighter, flashlight, air filter & gas mask, Walkie
talkie, personal items. NEMA MX-366 Combat ATV.
Keith is the group's main driver and mechanic. Keith prefers to drive into a fight in whatever
vehicle is on hand, but prefers his MX-366 ATV above all others. It is not an uncommon sight to
see him drive into a firefight to get to a comrade pinned down by weapons fire or to pick up a
victim. A descendent of Kentucky Ridge-Runners, Keith is daring and dangerous, but resourceful
and skillful behind the wheel.

Aaron Willington -NEMA Peacekeeper (Pigman/Heavy Weapons Specialist) - NEMA Fatigues

and Dress Uniform, Standard NEMA Body Armor, LGR-360 Laser Rifle and Grenade Launcher,
NEMA 5.56 Assault Rifle (with mounted grenade launcher), PLP "Police Special" Laser Pistol, (4
extra e-clips for each weapon and 1 power pack for each energy weapon), (2) Smoke Grenades,
tear gas grenade, (2) explosive grenades, (3) flares, vibro-knife, survival knife, utility belt,
canteen, first aid medical kit, pocket computer, disposable lighter, flashlight, air filter & gas
mask, Walkie talkie, personal items. NEMA ML-557 Mini-Missile Rifle (with pouch of 24 spare
mini-missiles). Partial Conversion Cyborg (both arms and legs, PS = 28).
Aaron has a knack with weapons and is the team's mobile heavy-firepower, often in the thick of
fighting where none of the big vehicles can go. Aaron doesn't care if his target is a robot, demon,
or bandit. If lives are threatened, he is always ready to fight for them.

Carl Mandrake -NEMA Fire & Rescue (Roscoe) - NEMA Firefighter's Enhanced Body Armor,
modified NEMA body armor, Neural Mace, NEMA SLR-250 Laser "Sharpshooter" Laser Rifle,
NEMA Automag (ATF) Pistol, (4 extra clips for each), (8) flares, (2) colored smoke grenades,
Vibro-knife, Vibro-Saber, Vibro-Fire Axe, conventional fire axe, pocket knife, small mallet, (6)
pitons/stakes, 50 feet of lightweight rope and pulley system, laser torch, large paramedic's
medical kit, 50 pairs of disposable gloves, surgical kit, sutures, bandages, antiseptic, pain killers,
medicine, defibulator, oxygen, etc., primary response medical kit, nano-bot medical systems,
mini-bio-comp systems, compu-drug dispenser, breathing equipment, stretcher, backboard, utility
belt, canteen, air-filter & gas mask, Walkie-talkie, portable high intensity lamp, pocket flashlight,
pocket mirror, uniform, dress uniform, utility belt, backpack, few personal items (most equipment
is carried in the hover jeep/ambulance that Dani drives.)

Carl is the team's rescue and fire-fighting specialist, as well as a paramedic, having been
assigned to the team after his fellow fire-fighters had died in a building collapse. Carl is also,
although he doesn't know it at the time, the team's historian. His journals are the ones that Lady
Priscilla comes into possession of 200+ years in the future. Carl is absolutely fearless when
rescuing victims either from a fire or from a monster. Carl has been seen going toe-to-toe with a
monster that was attempting to devour a child, armed only with his vibro-fireman's axe.

Riana Creed -NEMA Para-Arcane - MDC Long Coat, MDC Armored Vest, NEMA Standard
Helmet, NEMA SLR-250 "Sharpshooter" Laser Rifle, NEMA Automag (with 144 silver bullets
and 144 conventional rounds), Neural Mace, (6) flares, silver plated dagger, conventional pocket
knife, hand axe made of bone, small mallet, (8) wooden stakes, clove of garlic, branch of wolfs
bane, shaker of salt, 8-inch wooden cross on necklace, small silver cross, canteen of holy water,
canteen of regular water, disposable lighter, pocket mirror, utility belt, backpack, satchel (his
'Vampire kit'), sleeping bag, notebook and markers, box of white chalk, pieces of charcoal, air
filter & gas mask, Walkie-talkie, portable computer, pocket flashlight, night vision goggles,
pocket magnifying glass, NEMA uniform, NEMA I.D., personal items.
Riana is the team's 'expert' on demons, monsters, and the supernatural. She worked for years
at the University of Tennessee as the head of their parapsychology department and is fascinated
by all things magical and supernatural in nature. She is loyal to the team, but the gaps in her
knowledge often winds them up in trouble. In her defense, not much is known on the subject, and
she IS learning. Mistakenly believed to be the author of the journal in the story.

Matthew "Matt" Green -NEMA Volunteer (Ex-Cop) - Khaki fatigues for uniform, MDC Armored
Vest (30 MDC, covers belly and chest, AR = 11), standard NEMA helmet, SLR-250 Laser Rifle
(2 extra e-clips), NEMA 5.56 Assault Rifle (2 extra clips, 1 standard, 1 silver-plated rounds),
Triax TX-22 Precision Laser Pistol (from own collection) (4 extra TX e-clips), survival knife, (2)
smoke grenades, (2) flares, neural mace, vibro-knife, utility belt, canteen, first aid kit, flashlight,
cigarette lighter (Zippo), air filter & gas mask, Walkie-talkie, personal items.
Matt volunteered to join NEMA as a volunteer after witnessing his family being killed by a
demon. Being an ex-cop (SWAT), he often works as the group's detective, and often puts his
experience as a gunner to use in Keith's ATV. Matt is looking for a bit of payback against the
supernatural creatures that have invaded his world, but is still serving also in a rescue capacity.
Matt is also their best sharp-shooter.

SOLDIERS OF GOD (group of witch hunters)

Kathy Prosek- Witch Hunter (Goth-girl) - MDC Riot Armor (same as vest, AR=15, extra padding
on the shoulders, arms, and legs), NEMA helmet, NEMA-470 "Hot Seat" Plasma Rifle, Long
sword, vibro-knife, bow and arrows, (4 extra e-clips and canisters), (6) flares, silver-plated
dagger, hand axe, pocket knife, small mallet, 8 wooden stakes, 6 cloves of garlic, 12-inch wooden
cross, small silver cross worn about neck, silver cross on ankle-bracelet, 6 cloves of garlic, branch
of wolfbane, canteen of holy water, canteen of regular water, disposable cigarette lighter, pocket
mirror, utility belt, backpack, satchel, sleeping bag, notebook, markers, chalk, charcoal, air-filter
& gas mask, Walkie-talkie, portable computer, pocket flashlight, night vision goggles.
Kathy lost all her family and most of her friends during the cataclysm to a pack of vampires.
Since then she has had a pathological hatred of all demons, and vampires in particular. She
raided a collapsed police station for her equipment and that of her friends'. Kathy cares not for
who is in the way of her revenge, only that the monsters pay in blood. She possesses latent
psychic powers and uses her background (mainly gleaned from the Goth crowd she used to hang
out with) to find the demons. She has gathered a group of friends and associates who have also
suffered losses to follow her on the warpath to vengeance.

Robert - Rogue Scholar (Librarian) - MDC Riot Armor (same as vest, AR=15, extra padding on
the shoulders, arms, and legs), NEMA helmet, NEMA Automag Pistol (5 extra clips), NEMAPLP-20 Laser Pulse Pistol (2 extra e-clips), .44 magnum revolver with silver-plated bullets,
portable computer, scholar trappings, crossbow with sharpened arrows (for vampires).
Robert was a former teacher of Kathy's and an expert on the occult. His wife died at the hands
of the same vampires that killed Kathy's family. He took the files on vampires and other
mythological creatures. These are the same files that the heroes were sent to recover.

Tristan Bond- Vagabond (ex-construction worker) - MDC Riot Armor (same as vest, AR=15,
extra padding on the shoulders, arms, and legs), NEMA helmet, NEMA-MIP-51 "Crime-Stopper"
Ion Pistol, .45 automatic pistol (with 144 silver-plated rounds), Silver-plated knife, NEMA
"Mastiff" Giant Robot.

Tristan is Kathy's boyfriend, and used his knowledge to help her break into the collapsed
police station with the use of a giant robot from his old construction site, but quickly abandoned
if for the Mastiff they found there. Tristan is totally smitten by Kathy, and may well follow her to
the very gates of hell. Tristan is the heavy-hitter for the Soldiers of God.

Wilma Dunscon- Para-Arcane (Goth-girl) - MDC Riot Armor (same as vest, AR=15, extra
padding on the shoulders, arms, and legs), NEMA helmet, NEMA-MIP-51 "Crime-Stopper" Ion

Pistol, .45 automatic pistol (with 144 silver-plated rounds), Silver-plated knife, bag of spell-stuff.
Wilma is Kathy's best friend and was made to watch while the vampires killed her parents and
baby-brother. She is nearly as driven as Kathy, but has not yet slipped over into madness. Wilma
has always been obsessed by the occult and may study to become a magic user in the years
ahead, assuming she survives.

The Mob - Vagabonds all (30)- MDC Riot Armor (same as vest, AR=15, extra padding on the
shoulders, arms, and legs), NEMA helmet, NEMA 5.56 Assault Rifle (3 extra clips), NEMA LSR250 "Sharpshooter" Laser Rifle (2 extra e-clips), .45 automatic pistol (with 144 silver-plated
rounds), Silver-plated knife.
The Mob, as Kathy calls them, are all thirsty for payback on the creatures that have invaded
their world and the people that would associate with them. They have focused on the young girl
to lead them and will follow her to the death.

*****

The Silver City Clarion Call, Main Street, Silver City, New West,
New Mexico Territory (Old American Empire), May 3rd, 105 PA
(Post Apocalyptic Calendar)

Joe Stalker leaned back in his office chair and looked one last time at the final day's edition of
the Silver City Clarion Call, the only newspaper in Silver City, and most of the territory. The
paper was a good one, even if it were filled with a bit more 'fluff' material than he would have
liked on his own newspaper.
The piece about the re-opening of the Luckier Nugget Saloon was a good piece, however,
sporting a drawing of the original building, from the time before it had been purchased and
renovated the first time by Lady Priscilla, and a picture of the new saloon, complete with Lady
Priscilla and her adoptive family standing outside it.
Joe grinned as he looked at the picture of Lady Priscilla, and wondered if she ever had taken a
bad picture in her life. Considering how pretty she was, he doubted it.
Joe looked up at the sound of the typewriter beginning it's "clack... clack..." sounds, to find
that Lord Mist had come into the office from his room in the back to begin typing on a piece for

tomorrow. Of course, Lord Mist couldn't be bothered with saying hello first. He was quite a
character without even considering that he was, really, a dragon of some age, who believed he
was an English Lord from a bygone era. But he was a great worker, and his knowledge of
etiquette and manners seemed to be flawless.
Joe looked back to the paper and, for the first time, noticed that a parcel had been placed on
his desk. He couldn't think of when it could have come in, save that it might have been brought in
while he was lettering the paper earlier by either of his other reporters, the Ley-Line Walker
named Lasher or his ex-vampire girlfriend, Juanita.
It had to have come by special courier, and he wondered who had sent it.
Examining the package, he saw the marks from at least 4 shipping companies and not a few
private couriers. Whoever had sent this had gone to a lot of trouble, as it seemed to have came
from as far away as Lazlo, far on the north and east of even Coalition States Territory.
Joe raised an eyebrow when he noticed that the destination wasn't to either him or the
newspaper, but was addressed, instead, to Lady Priscilla Creed of Silver City, New West. Joe
grinned as he thought it had surely been either Lasher or Juanita who had left the parcel here
while he had been busy. Both suspected that he felt partial to the lovely Lady Priscilla, and they
were correct. They must have picked up the package, noticed who it was for, and figured that he
would want to give it to her himself.
Not that he minded in the least. Those two were, unless he missed his guess, playing matchmaker again. Having finally found a way they could be together themselves, they couldn't
imagine another potential couple NOT being together.
Ah, to be young again.
Still, it was a good excuse to go to visit the lovely lady. And, truth to be told, he was a bit
curious himself as to just what was within the parcel.
"I'm heading over to the Luckier Nugget, Lord Mist. Watch after the place, will you?" asked
Joe as he got to his feet and picked up the walking stick that was the only sign of his injuries from
a few months ago, when he had been demon-possessed.
"Of course, good fellow. Give my regards to the matron of our local pub. I'm busy writing a
piece on the proper way to wear a great-coat. Something the ruffians about desperately need,"
answered Lord Mist as he continued to clack away at his typewriter.
Joe didn't bother to lock up after he left. Having an adult dragon on the staff tended to keep
away troublemakers better than any security system that he'd ever heard of. The fact that
everyone knew that Lord Mist was more than a bit mad only heightened the distance they put
between them and him.
Joe walked with only a slight limp across the street, the walking stick making it less obvious.
Doc Johnson couldn't say if he'd ever loose the limp entirely, but it was far preferable to the fate
that could have befallen him.

Being a Wednesday, it wasn't a very busy night at the Luckier Nugget. Fridays and Saturdays
were much busier, when the cow-hands and miners got paid and came into spend some of their
hard-earned credits. Still, there was a usual crowd, some of which were known to him, and some
of which were quite famous.
Sheriff Preacher Alpo and his long-time companion and protge, Wilbur "Wolf" Willington,
the infamous Gunfighter, were seated at a table playing poker with a few of the other shopowners about town. They nodded at Joe as he entered, but were too engrossed at the moment with
telling of how they had arrested and jailed a trio of cattle-rustlers earlier that afternoon. Joe made
a mental note to have Juanita get the full story in time for the next edition of the Silver City
Clarion Call.
As usual, Ruffy was tending the bar and grinned widely in greeting as Joe limped up to the bar.
"Still using my old walking cane, I see," said Ruffy.
"Still need to. Say, is Lady Priscilla about by any chance?" asked Joe as he looked over the
gathering of regulars, hoping to see her.
Ruffy's grin widened even further. He knew that look, having worn it himself for some time
before he and Ginger finally married.
"She's upstairs, visiting with the pups and their sitter, Megan," said Ruffy, "She should be back
down soon. Want a drink while you wait?"
"Sure. How about a pint of Ben's Best Ale?" asked Joe as he placed the parcel on the top of the
bar.
Ruffy returned a moment later with a foaming mug of the local ale produced by the Ursa
Warrior, Ben, who lived just behind Lady Priscilla's property. It was, by and far, the most popular
drink in Silver City, the bear-man having made it from the honey of the bees he kept.
Joe took a long pull on the mug while Ruffy looked curiously at the parcel. He grinned when
he saw whom it was addressed to, and rightly gleaned the reason for Joe's visit. At least his
SUPPOSED reason. Both Ruffy and Ginger liked Joe, and thought that he and their adoptive
mom might make a good couple.
A moment later Lady Priscilla came down the spiral staircase that led from her living quarters
and the Saloon below. Ruffy didn't miss the way that Joe instantly oriented on her, or how his
eyes seemed to sparkle. Ruffy waved to Lady Priscilla to come over to where he and Joe were
waiting.
"Good evening, Joe. Done with the latest edition of the Clarion Call, I hope?" asked Lady
Priscilla with a smile.
"Of course. And might I say that you're looking radiant tonight in your lavender gown? I have
a parcel that came through the office, and it's addressed to you, Lady Priscilla. And, I have to
admit, I'm a bit curious as to what it is," said Joe as he waved his hand at the parcel on the

counter.
Lady Priscilla gazed at the cover to the parcel, and her eyebrows rose as she saw where it had
been, as well as where it had come from.

"This is quite interesting," said Lady Priscilla, "I wonder who on the council at Lazlo would be
sending me a parcel? I haven't been to that city since before I moved to Silver City."
"There is ONE way to find out," hinted Joe, now more curious than ever.
Lady Priscilla led the way to the table closest to the bar and bade Joe to sit with his drink
while she undid the string and other bindings on the parcel.
As the wrapping opened, Lady Priscilla saw that it contained not one item, but two: a book and
a letter.
"This is interesting," said Lady Priscilla, "It seems to be from an old acquaintance of ours,
through the Council of Lazlo."
"What's his name? Anyone I know?" asked Joe.
"Quite possibly. He is a writer that has alternatively been a nuisance and a help. His name is
Richard Lean."
Lady Priscilla noticed that the name alone got Wolf's attention, as he had been the focus of the
man's first two books, which had caused him no end to trouble, and which he still referred to as
'that damned book.' Wolf whispered to Preacher Alpo who finished their last hand before both
men excused themselves from the game and wondered over.

"This book is drawing a bit of attention," said Lady Priscilla as Wolf and Preacher Alpo took
the other seats at the table, "It seems that Richard Lean has been busy since we last saw him."
Wolf looked at the revealed book in front of Lady Priscilla and asked, "Do I even want to
know what that's about?"
"Now Wolf, you know Richard Lean promised not to write anything about you without your
approval. Whatever else he is, he seemed sincere," said Lady Priscilla.
"Still, the man has a habit of causing a commotion with his works, you must admit," said
Preacher Alpo.
Lady Priscilla opened the letter and read for a moment before saying, "On, my. Richard says
that this is his latest works, one he made with the material that I let him copy from my library, so
he thought it might be of quite a bit of interest to not only me, but to many of us here in Silver
City because of who it is about."

"I'm gonna kill him," growled Wolf.

"He also says that it is NOT about Wolf in particular," continued Lady Priscilla as she
continued reading.
She also noticed that both Heather and Meggy had come over to see what all the interest was
about. Ginger was also making her way over.
"All right, let's see what this is all about," said Lady Priscilla with a grin as he picked up the
book and read the title on the cover.

"Days Of Apocalypse, by Richard Lean. Lazlo Press, Lazlo," she read before opening the book
and beginning to read.

Lazlo Press, Lazlo, North American Continent ,Toronto, Canada (Old Canadian Empire)

Days of the Apocalypse is a work commissioned by the Lazlo Press, of Lazlo, endorsed by the
Council of Lazlo, with full honors awarded by Erin Tarn.

The following was taken from the libraries of Lazlo, New Lazlo, and the Lady Priscilla Public
Library of Silver City. The author and historian, Richard Lean (History of the New West, Vol. 1-3)
was principal in putting together the still-existing records from that time. This novel's work is to
try to serve as a partial chronicle for the time known as "The Coming of the Rifts" and as the
"Great Cataclysm". Although fragmented in places, it is hoped that this will provide some insight
into what, before, was only speculated on. As it stands, it is probably the most complete history of
the event that exists.
Much of the credit for this work should go to the unknown author who first penned many of
these pages, which were found among the works donated to the Lady Priscilla Public Library by
the lady of the same name.
As to just who this author was, no one is sure. Widely held is the belief that it was one of the
people mentioned in the work itself, and most popularly that it was the descendant of Lady
Priscilla herself (which would explain how the papers ended up in her possession), but no one is
really sure, not even Lady Priscilla herself.
It is noted, however, that this unknown author's initial journal entry has been included in it's
entirety in order to give the most first-hand account possible as to the even of the Great
Cataclysm itself.

Erin Tarn, Rogue Scholar

December 22nd, 2098 (Journal Excerpt)

I don't know if this will do any good, but I thought that writing about all this, as so often has
been the case in the past, helps me put things in perspective. Hell, the truth is that it helps me to
calm down, and calm is one thing that is in very short supply lately.
I decided to start this journal several days after everything started, but felt that I ought to begin
here. After all, this was the very day that the world as we knew it went all to hell. What better
way to begin?

December 22nd, 2098, 3 days before Christmas.

Ho-ho-frigging-ho.
Everyone was still talking about the senate meetings, the purpose of which was to determine
just whom they would hang over the situation in South America which was still going on. It
might STILL be, for all I or anyone else knows now.
A dozen of the Chromium Guardsmen, belonging to NEMA, the same organization that I'm
part of now, had been lent to some little backwater down south to bolster their sagging military
against an aggressive neighbor. It sounded like a good idea at the time, but no one counted on the
ones we loaned the power armor to being just as bloodthirsty as their aggressive neighbors and
actually picking a fight once they had the Chromium Guardsmen in their possession. (Hey, let's
hear it for arming third-world countries.)
Rah, rah, sis-boom-bah.
The Chromium Guardsmen kicked their backsides, of course, and not having had enough yet,
the idiots sent them ACROSS the other country's borders, ripping their army apart as they went.
Of the 12 that were sent, 1 was destroyed, and several more were badly damaged, but they wiped
out half of a nation's entire army in the process, as well as several thousand civilians . The video
footage on it is still being played on the news channels, the ones that are still working. Scary
stuff.
Of course NEMA recalled the loan at once, but the damage had already been done. At least I
don't foresee the bosses making any more loans of the CG in any number to anyone ever again.
Talk about too little too late.
That was about 6 months before the crap really hit the fan. While folks here in the north were
looking at who we could blame for the carnage, no one was keeping a close eye on what else was
brewing down south. Those two countries were determined to get rid of each other, even if neither

of them had the military for another incursion either way.

But who the hell would have believed that those two backwaters would have had access to old
NUCLEAR MISSILES!?
Experts say that there was 2 minutes of difference between the launches of one side's nuclear
missiles and the other side's retaliatory strike. For all the good getting off the first shot did for
either of them.
NEMA wouldn't be telling anyone that we figured out this much, and I wouldn't have known it
if I hadn't overheard the Lt. Col. shouting about it in her office.

NEMA estimates that it was a very limited nuclear exchange, although that was enough to
cause millions of deaths in an instant. Creed tried to explain it to the Lt. Col., but most of it went
over my head. It had something to do with a couple of the cities sitting on top of what he called
Nexus Points. Something or another about a chain-reaction, but with all the metaphysical
mumbo-jumbo he was slinging around, I really couldn't follow it. Sometimes I wonder what the
brass was thinking when they started the Para-Arcane Corps.
Whatever happened down there, it caused some kind of ripple effect that was complete before
most of us even heard that something big was going on in the south, even here at NEMA
headquarters.
Thanks to satellite images (before they were all cut off) we estimate that it took around 3
minutes for every single one of these Ley Lines to erupt. And I mean WORLD WIDE.
That was when the crap REALLY hit the fan.

Chicago, NEMA Firefighter's Headquarters, 12:03 AM, December 24th, 2098

Carl Mandrake woke suddenly to the traditional alarm bell. Somewhere there was a fire raging
out of control, beyond the ability of the regular fire department's ability to handle.
Carl, along with his 19 room-mates on duty, leapt out of bed at once, each grabbing their
uniform and armor as they quickly started getting dressed.
In the NEMA Firefighter's Core, time meant lives saved.
Carl was trying to put on his pants when the first earthquake hit, knocking him flat on his ass
with a shout. Dust from the rafters overhead shook down on them and he realized that it was
going to be a long time until morning as he made his way back to his locker in spite of the
building shaking under him. Others could take cover and call for help. NEMA WAS the help they
would be calling for.

Carl struggled into his NEMA Fire & Rescue Enhanced Body Armor, a miracle of design
made with firefighters in mind. Like other NEMA body armor, it protected the man inside from
an incredible amount of harm, but theirs was designed with heat and flames, mainly, in mind.
Not only did it have a larger oxygen supply, but it also contained a light exo-skeleton inside,
giving the wearer enhanced strength with some of their tools built right into the armor itself.
Carl was running to the fire pole as he slipped his helmet on, hearing the hiss that told him that
it had formed it's airtight seal. Several others had managed to regain their footing and were
following him as he hit the pole and slid down 4 floors to the garage level.
Captain Benjamin was waiting for him and shouted, "Get in the fire truck!"
"Where are we headed?" shouted Carl as he leapt into the driver's seat.
Captain Benjamin snorted as the next fireman came down the pole and said, "Pick a direction!
Half the city looks to be on fire!"
Carl hated it when he was right. This was going to be a VERY long night indeed. It would
appear that his sister was going to have to wait for his arrival for Christmas. He doubted a fire
like that would let him leave to take his planned flight to Kentucky.

As soon as the other 9 fire fighters joined them on his fire truck, Carl punched it, sending them
roaring through the entrance to the firehouse. He gaped at the sight that greeted him and nearly
crashed them on the other side of the street.
The amount of devastation was mind-boggling. Flames were coming form several blocks
ahead, and there was some kind of weird energy flowing through the air, blue-white in color and
crackling like lightning, far beyond the reaches of even the tallest sky-scrapers. With a start, Carl
realized that what he was seeing wasn't even in the city itself, but further to the southwest,
towards St. Louis. Whatever kind of energy display that was, it had to be MILES TALL!
Carl went west on West Jackson blvd, as Captain Benjamin had instructed him. He could see
the fire long before they arrived. It was the Sears Building, and at the moment, it was the world's
tallest candle.

"What the hell is gong on?" shouted Carl into his helmet radio, the amount of static there
surprised him.
"You figure it out and you tell me," growled Captain Benjamin, "That way we'll both know.
Whatever it is, our job is the same. Let's save some lives!"
Strangely, the Captain's words gave them all a focus, something to concentrate on.
Carl pulled the fire truck up in front of the building's plaza and then right over the curb and
towards the building itself. One of the perks of the job was not having to worry about parking

laws.
Carl screeched to a halt right beside the fire plug. The firemen hopped out and began unreeling
fire hoses. Carl joined them.

*****

Bloomington, Illinois, 12:05 AM

The Devil's Wing Goth Nightclub

Kathy was dancing with Tristan and Wilma to a Rob Zombie tune, the deep bass being felt all
the way through the top of her head to the tips of her toes as she shuffled on the dance floor, when
the first earthquake hit.
Lights shorted out and suddenly they were plunged into darkness. People screamed as the
emergency lights kicked in. Like a panicked animal, the crowd of people in the Goth club surged
for the red emergency exit signs, several of them being trampled under the onrush of panicked
party-goers.
Kathy grabbed Tristan and Wilma as they tried to join the deadly crowd. Sparks had hit the bar
from one of the lights overhead, and a steady flame had taken hold from the spilled alcohol there.
She could see that the wrap-around bar was going to take it straight to the crowd that had jammed
itself in the exit, crushing several people in the jam of bodies, not that anyone else was noticing.
She supposed there was an upside to thinking about death most of your time. It leant you a
certain detachment from panic, if nothing else.
"Not that way," said Kathy into her friends' panic-stricken faces, "The bathrooms! Hurry!"
Kathy had to push Tristan and Wilma ahead of her as the flames reached the stash of hard
liquor behind the bar and it literally exploded, sending shards of glass and sheets of liquid-fire
into the crowd, setting dozens of people on fire.

Kathy paused a moment in the entrance to the lady's room, gazing back on the spectacle. It
was almost...Beautiful. Then Tristan yanked her inside by the arm, shouting, "Will you get a
move on!?"
Like this escape route had been HIS idea. He was lucky he had such a cute ass. He'd never
make it if he had to depend on brains.
The bathroom was empty.

Figures. The sheep had flocked to the exits that had been marked. Kathy and Wilma had used
the bathroom window several times to either ditch a date or skip out without paying. They knew it
let right out into the parking lot.
Wilma already had it open, having used a hairpin to slip the lock on it. Wilma tried to hold her
short skirt down over her fishnet stockings as she tried to climb out. It was proving to be
something of a challenge for her.
"What's the matter? Afraid we'll see under your skirt?" said Tristan with a leer.
"Typical boy," said Kathy with disdain as she pushed by him and gave Wilma a shove through
the window. She fell with a shriek outside.
Not having a problem with it herself, she hiked her leather mini-skirt up over her fishnet
stockings (the torn ones she had paid $50 for with her mom's stolen credit card) and revealed the
black lace g-string she wore underneath as she clambered out the window.
Dropping to the ground, she turned as she was pulling her skirt back down and saw that
Tristan was staring at her through the window.
"Hey, Moron!" she shouted to her wide-eyed boy-friend, "You ARE standing in a building
that's on FIRE!"
Tristan snapped out of it and practically dove through the window, landing at her feet.
"Must have had my mind on other things," he said with a sheepish grin.
"Want to get your eyes out from under my skirt and give us all a ride out of here before the
cops come?" asked Kathy dryly. She would LET him know when he could look under her skirt,
thank you very much. Now was NOT the time.

Tristan's vehicle was an old, battered pickup with his dad's construction company's logo on the
side, proclaiming it was the property of BOND CONSTRUCTION CO.
Tristan got behind the wheel as she shoved a skinned-knee-Wilma inside and then shoved
herself in beside her, slamming the door behind her as several patrons ran by, beating at the fires
that danced about their clothing and skin.
"Hit it!" shouted Kathy, infuriated as Tristan seemed to be mesmerized by the spectacle.
"What in the Sam Hell is THAT!?" asked Tristan and pointed.
Kathy was about to inform him that what he was looking at was human beings doing their best
impersonations of tiki-torches when she looked at where he was pointing.
To the southwest, the entire sky was lit up with blue-white light while lightning shot UP from
the ground, miles into the air. It was coming from far beyond the city, but there was also what

looked to be a band of the same blue-white energy passing within a mile of the parking lot,
stretching up well over a mile into the air, dancing with what looked like electricity of some kind.
It was giving Kathy the mother of all migraines, whatever it was.

They stood staring at it in mute shock, having absolutely no idea what was causing the
phenomenon. Kathy had no idea how long they simply sat there in Tristan's dad's truck, staring at
the new Ley Line. The shock of seeing it was broken as one of the smoldering people that had
actually managed to escape the bar was knocked down by someone in front of their truck. At first
Kathy thought it was a fire fighter or another patron from the bar, trying to beat the girl's flames
out. But then she saw that he was... BITING HER! On the neck. Hot blood spurted as the girl
cried out in pain and terror, soaking the man's face.
"Tristan, you dumb-ass! Get us the hell out of here NOW!" shouted Kathy.
It was a mistake, she knew, as soon as she had said it. It caught the man's attention. He turned
an incredibly pale face towards them, framed by long black hair. It was a handsome face, even
with blood dripping thickly form his chin. The girl was convulsing in shock from her burns and
the mortal wound. Kathy could see that half her throat had been torn out, blood gushing out onto
the parking lot surface.
The man smiled. Both Kathy and Wilma screamed. The man had incisors, covered in the girl's
blood. Both girls, long members of the Goth cult, knew him instantly for what he was. The word
rang in their heads like a scream.
VAMPIRE!
They also knew instantly this was no Goth wanna-be, this was the genuine article.

Their screams jolted Tristan out of his shock. He turned the key in the ignition. It ground a few
times, as he cursed.
The vampire stood, looking strangely at the vehicle, casually tossing aside the dying girl like
Kathy had tossed away a paper cup when they had gotten to the club. She smashed into the side
of a garbage bin, knocking it and its contents over as he began to casually stroll towards them.
Kathy had never been so scared in her life as now.
Tristan's truck engine finally caught and he turned on the lights. The vampire raised his hands
to ward off the sudden and unexpected bright lights as Tristan pushed the truck into drive and
floored it, sending them rocketing over the asphalt. The vampire, blinded momentarily, didn't see
them coming until Tristan hit it. They all felt the jolts and knew that Tristan had run him over.
Kathy reflected that this boy might just get into her pants yet for that move.
Tristan fought with the truck's steering as another earthquake rumbled beneath them. There

was nothing like feeling the very earth shift beneath you to instill panic to it's previous all-time
high. Wilma screamed as Tristan was forced to swerve around a fallen power pole, heading back
into town from the outskirts. At least they were heading home, Kathy reflected.
None of them knew that the vampire they had run over was hanging onto the tailgate of
Tristan's truck, stubbornly pulling himself up into the truck's bed.

*****

Atlanta, Georgia, 2:05 AM, December 24th, 2098

Sgt. Matt Green was NOT a happy SWAT sniper. The thing was just standing there, laughing
at him and thumping it's pale white chest, daring him to take another shot at it. Matt obliged, for
all the good it did him.
The... Matt hated to use the word, but could think of none other for this creature. The demon
laughed as his well-placed shot bounced off the side of it's skull.
It was the weirdest thing that Matt Green had ever seen. Even hunched over, it had to be at
least 8 feet all, which would mean it probably stood nearer to 12 feet tall when erect, double the
size of a human. It was stark white with black markings that resembled tattoos. It's head was
skull-like, and appeared to him as it the top half had been hacked open and then crudely reattached using bolts. A pair of what looked to him like demented moose antlers stood out from
either side of it's head, which sported a host of ivory-white, sharpened teeth in it's mouth. A
serpentine tongue, licked with flames, darted in and out of its mouth rapidly, looking to be as long
as the demon was tall at times. Not that the oddity of the thing ended there. It seemed to have a
prehensile tail made out of bone and tipped with a sharp-looking spike at least 6 inches long. It's
muscled legs ended in two-toed feet.
The first police car to arrive on the scene was still lying on it's side, fire broiling out from
inside where, if reports were to be believed, it had spat fire as hot as anything the military had in
it's own stockpile at the car.
In one hand it held a street sign that it had ripped out of the ground with it's bare hands, using
the end caked with dried concrete as the business end of it's makeshift club. In the other it held a
6-year-old girl by one arm. She was screaming in terror, which seemed to delight this monster to
no end as he waved it at the assembled police officers, taunting them.
They had been hoping that Matt's sniping ability would let them save her. One shot, one kill.
But what the hell were you supposed to do when your target had skin like iron?
Unfortunately, the hostage situation resolved itself for them, and in the worst possible way, as

the demon used it's tail to run the girl through. Even Matt gaped in horror at the laughing demon
as the little girl convulsed and then died, stuck to the demon's stabbing tail like a butterfly that
had been pinned to a wall.
That was it for the Captain. He gave the order and the assembled police and SWAT officers
opened fire with everything they had. The hail of lead slugs actually staggered the demon, which
only seemed to amuse it even more as the police realized that they weren't and that they
COULDN'T hurt it.
Matt had seen enough. Outraged, he slid down the drainpipe to land beside the SWAT van as
the monster actually breathed fire at another police car (looks like he owned Smith that $5 after
all), incinerating it and the two officers that were firing from cover behind it. To their credit, only
a fresh Rookie threw down his assault rifle and ran. Everyone else held their positions and kept
firing with pistols, shotguns, and the occasional automatic rifle.
But Matt had one more trick to try.

Last year he had won second prize at the international sharpshooter's competition. The prize
was inside the van.
Matt pulled aside a crate of ammunition and found the box he was looking for, stamped with
the TRIAX logo. He pulled it open and pulled out the slender energy pistol within and one of the
e-clips. The others he stuffed into his ammo bag as he leapt out of the back of the SWAT van just
before another fiery spit-ball slammed into the side of it, putting a hole the size of a Volkswagen
in it and causing it to burst into flame. Matt scrambled to cover as their stored ammo there began
to cook off, sending off stray bullets in all directions. Matt grunted as one slammed into his back,
but his MDC Vest saved him.
Matt saw that the creature was now using it's makeshift club to play golf with another squad
car, laughing at the top of it's lungs. The blow caught the squad car in the center, folding it almost
double as it was flung over Matt's head to slam into and through a brick wall, 2 stories above his
head. Matt rolled to safety, barely avoiding a shower of bricks and mortar that rained down from
the damaged wall, quickly joined a moment later by the destroyed squad car.
Matt rolled to his feet and fired in one motion.

The weapon was a coveted Triax TX-22 Laser Pistol, made with precision in mind. In Matt's
hands it was a deadly weapon capable of destroying a conventional, old-style tank in one shot.
The powerful laser left a blister.
Matt was less than thrilled with the result, but at least it had stopped laughing.

The demon stumbled back a step in shock. One of these pathetic worms had actually managed
to HURT it.
Matt fired again, and then had to throw himself to one side as a line of flame turned the asphalt
where he had been kneeling a moment before into a bubbling pool of tar and gravel.
Matt came up firing gain, again scoring a hit on the creature's chest. It bellowed in frustration
and anger, seeming to forget any pretense at strategy and rushing at him with the street-sign
raised over it's head.
Matt kept firing, giving the other officers a chance to pull back and collect themselves while
the demon was concentrating on only him.
The machine-gun sound startled Matt as much as it did the demon as ferrous slugs ripped into
it's body. The creature stumbled back, bleeding now and roared at the sky.
Matt saw one of the NEMA Silver Hawk SAMAS fly by, followed by another. At last, some
REAL firepower.
The demon clearly wasn't going down without a fight. It spat fireballs at the SAMAS flying
overhead, narrowly missing one pilot while striking the other squarely. The SAMAS faltered,
losing altitude as the pilot was obviously stunned. For the demon, it was like someone had tossed
it a soft-ball. It used the street-sign as a bat, sending the Silver Eagle SAMAS skipping off the
street, sending up showers of sparks as it bounced.
Matt slipped behind another patrol car, firing his laser pistol again.
The demon screamed and looked down at the blister that Matt's weapon had just given it.
"That's it, I'm toast," thought Matt, but the demon, as much as he could tell with that skull-face
and all, but it simply stared at him in confusion. It had no idea why he would risk his life for a
fellow peacekeeper. For it, the idea was a completely foreign concept.
That was all the distraction that the SAMAS needed to launch both it's high-explosive minimissiles from his left arm.
The mini-missiles slammed into the demon's chest and exploded, lifting it 50 feet into the air
before dropping it's twisted and broken body back to the shattered pavement.
Matt kept his laser pistol on the beast and, to his surprise, the Silver Eagle hovered overhead
and riddled it's corpse with more rail-gun rounds. Matt doubted it was going to get back up from
that.
The Silver Eagle landed as Matt came out from cover, his laser pistol held down to his side.
The other Silver Eagle SAMAS was walking wobbly up the street, shaking off the effects of its
crash landing, the burn mark clearly visible on its chest.
"Thanks for the assist," said Matt, "What the hell IS that thing?"

The Silver Eagle SAMAS hadn't been designed to shrug, but that was what the pilot managed.
"Beats the hell out of me, officer, but things like things like this are popping up all over. Plus
the fires, riots, and God only knows what the hell those blue lines are that are running all over the
city. And that's just to top off the earthquakes and other stuff that's going on."
"Any word from the national guard?" asked Matt.
"No. But all law enforcement personnel are being routed to NEMA headquarters. A lot of the
stations are coming under attack by mobs wanting weapons. We're trying to regroup there."
Matt looked at his ruined squad car and asked the pilot, "Couldn't give me a lift there, could
you?"

*****

St. Louis, MS, December 25th, 2098 AD

"Big" Wade Adams blared his siren again and then just gave up on getting the snarled traffic
ahead to move out of his way. Twisting the wheel to his fire truck, Wade slammed on the gas,
sending the tires spinning as he drove up onto the sidewalk. Several pedestrians scampered into
doorways to get out of his way, but at least they were moving again.
Wade shook his head as he passed the intersection. Some idiot was refusing to move his
$150,000 Maserati out of the intersection until the police arrived to look at a dent in his fender
made by someone else who was trying to flee the city.
"Don't do it, Man. Whatever you do, don't do it," warned Dave from his seat beside Wade, "It's
not worth it. Think of the paperwork."
"Screw the paperwork," growled Wade, "The cops might get around to this jerk's accident in
about 3 months, ...give or take."
Wade threw the wheel and plowed into the expensive sports car, causing the owner to leap out
of the way (screaming like a little girl, Wade noted with some satisfaction) as he smashed the
vehicle clear of the intersection and onto the sidewalk. That'll teach him to look like his wife's
divorce lawyer. (With any luck, it WAS.)
The owner threw a stream of curses after the retreating fire engine while the people stuck in
the traffic jam cheered as they began filing through the cleared intersection.
"The chief is going to have your ass one of these days, Big Wade," said Dave, shaking his

head, but grinning, "You TRYING to get fired, Man?"

"Like the chief is going to be able to fire ANYONE who knows about search and rescue,"
sighed Wade. Since 3 days ago, none of the firefighters and rescue workers had more than 6 hours
of sleep, total. The world had gone to hell in a handbasket, and as luck would have it, it happened
during his shift.
Wade cut them around another team already fighting a fire at a warehouse and kept going.
Their assignment had been a fire to the north, in a tenement building.

The thick black plume of smoke left little doubt as to which building on this block was 'their'
fire. Unfortunately there were far too many of these fires going, all over St. Louis. Had been since
the earthquakes started.
The news stations had been reporting that there were disasters happening all over, but there
were only 3 local stations left on the air, and those were getting worse day by day as the dirty ash
and snow kept falling.
Wade brought the fire engine to a halt in front of the tenement building. Flames were dancing
about the 5th floor of the structure.
The entire quad of firemen sprang into motion even before the fire truck had come to a
complete stop. Several were dragging hoses to the two fire-plugs on the street. One began raising
the mechanized ladder on the back of the fire truck as Dave and Wade left the vehicle, each
slipping on their helmets. The smell was like something straight from Satan's bowels, as Wade
had declared yesterday.
The smell of burning rubber, wood and flesh mixed freely with the rotten-egg smell of the
sulphur let loose in the air by all the volcanoes that decided to erupt seemingly everywhere 3 days
ago. At least as fire-fighters they had gas masks and air supplies to rely on, at least they didn't
have to put up with the stench all the time. Lord knew how the civilians managed it.
"Good God," swore Dave, "There's kids up there."
Wade looked up and saw the children, on the 8th floor and shouting in fear over the flames.
There were 2 boys and a girl visible, and all were crying at the top of their lungs.
"Damn. Time for me to go to work," said Wade and started forward.
"Not going to wait for the hoses on the ladder?" asked Dave.
"Not the way the 5th floor is burning. I'll be careful. Just get the ladder going and the jump-net
ready. Time to give the armor a bit of a workout," answered Wade as he pulled out his large
Vibro-Fire Ax and strode towards the doors.

Like many of the buildings in the city, this one had been boarded up. Not that Wade could
blame them, with all the reports of strange animals prowling around the city, but it made their job
a lot harder.
Wade kicked the door and swore as he found out that there was something sitting behind it,
barring the way. Wade wound up with his ax and swung, turning on the sub-space vibration field
that surrounded the head. It sliced through the door and the soda machine behind it, spraying
sticky soda all over his armor.
Dave chuckled and turned a hose on him briefly, washing off the worst of it. Wade gave him a
brief thank you salute before dashing into the burning building, using the armor's enhanced
strength to push aside the makeshift barricade.
Smoke was thick in the building, the cold air outside forcing it down instead of up inside the
warmer building. He didn't bother looking for survivors in THIS dense smoke. Opening the door
brought a torrent of smoke and pure heat into his face as the open air outside sucked at it and fed
the flames further. Only his enhanced light power armor, proofed against most regular flames,
kept Wade from suffering severe burns on his face and hands and his internal oxygen supply
protected him from the lethally high concentration of smoke.
The stairs were already smoking, the carpeting browning as it prepared to burst into flames.
Wade took off at a full run up them, the armor also lending extra speed to his steps. In the
middle of the third flight, the carpeting burst into flames.

Not good at all in this old tenement, as the stairs underneath them were made out of wood. It
wouldn't take long for them to join in the blaze. He could well wind up having to find another
method out of the building, and the 8th floor was too far for him to jump, even in the FR-EX 220,
the Fire and Rescue Enhanced Body Armor that he wore, what the firefighters had come to
affectionately call the "Roscoe."
Wade shrugged off such concerns and concentrated on getting upstairs before the stairs
crumbled beneath him. Although the Roscoe enhanced his strength and speed, as well as giving
him superior protection against fire, it also increased his already considerable weight by 70
pounds, putting his muscular frame up to 300 pounds. Not counting all the equipment he was
carrying.
Wade took the stairs 3 at a time, and even though the armor's built-in exo-skeleton assisted, he
was breathing heavily by the time he reached the 5th floor.
Flames were everywhere, licking along the floor in waves as it followed the trail of oxygen.
Worse was the fact that the roof above him was already aflame. The fire had already spread to the
6th floor. He had to hurry.
Wade switched off the vibro-fire ax and used it's now ordinary head to probe the stairs ahead
of him. Not good. The stairs were already halfway eaten through and at several spots the head of

his ax went right through them. He took care navigating these, testing each stair before putting his
full weight on them. The flames licked along his feet and thighs, hungrily searching for a way
into his armor. Only those who fought against fires knew that it was like a living thing, and that it
deserved a hell of a lot more respect than most people gave it, especially a fire like this, in an
enclosed living space. All it would take would be one back-draft and the stairs would collapse
under him. The thought served to spur him on.
Wade reached the landing for the 6th floor and hurried up the stairs, chancing that they were
still strong enough to support his weight. His foot went through the 3rd stair, dumping him face
first into the flames, but he shrugged the fall off and continued the rest of the way without any
problem. By now the smoke was so thick that you couldn't see through it. Wade called up his
helmet's visor's thermo-imager and dialed down the sensitivity. The hot floor beneath him became
steadily apparent, and he avoided the ones where the flame was the hottest, which meant that
those were the ones the flames were eating through first.
Wade ignored his heavy breathing and hurried until he was past the stairs that were in danger
of giving way and on the 7th floor. Here the smoke was thinned enough that he could go back to
his normal vision. He kept up a good pace, but one less taxing than before. He'd be no good if he
collapsed on the stairs from exhaustion. He made a mental note to send a thank-you note to the
suit's developers. He'd have already collapsed by now without it helping him move along.

Wade cursed when he found that the door to the 8th floor had been wielded shut. Not knowing
where the children were now, he couldn't just hack through it with his vibro-fire ax.
Wade popped an e-clip into the port in his left arm and pointed it at the door, dialing the builtin cutting torch up to the 3rd setting. He didn't want to set off a second fire from dripping, whitehot metal, just to cut a way into it.
The metal parted quickly under the beam, and soon Wade had cut a perfect square out of the
door. One kick sent it clattering across the floor inside.
Smoke began to flow past him quickly.

"Shit! Back-draft!" cursed Wade as he jumped inside and grabbed the door-piece he had just
cut out, jamming it back inside with his enhanced strength.
Flames shot around the edges as the flames sought to burst inside the fresh source of oxygen,
flying up the stairs after him. Wade used his cutting torch to tack-wield the door into place, but
already the wall was beginning to smoulder. He had to hurry and find those kids. The flames were
shooting 3 feet into the hallway as it was. The door was beginning to bulge in spite of his wields
and once it buckled, a firestorm would follow him into the apartments. He could hear the streams
of water hitting into the floor below him, but at this rate, they'd be lucky to contain the blaze.
Wade's job, however, wasn't to fight the fire itself, but to save the lives of the children on the 8th

floor.
Wade forgot all the other flights he had ran up, and took the remaining flight of stairs 3 at a
time, pelting up them with the knowledge that time was becoming damned short indeed.

*****

Raven Blake tightened the gas mask and air filter tighter about her face before drawing out the
full length of her silver-plated long sword again. It was in here somewhere, and she intended that
it's path of destruction ended here. She had been tracking the monster for days, since it had killed
her mother in her occult shop downtown.
Raven was sweating under her trench-coat and the light riot armor she had lifted off a dead
body 2 days ago, which was a nice change from the cold outside, as long as she didn't stumble
into the flames that accompanied it. As it was, the smoke made it hard to see and it was quickly
becoming uncomfortably warm.
Raven knew it was still here. She felt it in her bones. Not that the fire wasn't a good clue that it
was around.

Raven moved stealthily through the smoke-filled hallway, listening to every sound, trying to
filter out the sounds of the flames licking at the floors below. The floor was beginning to warm
up, so she knew that she'd have to find the demon soon. It was what she had been training for her
whole life.
There. Her ears picked up a sound that didn't sound like a burning building, and she moved
quickly, holding her sword at the ready. The sounds were coming from behind the closed door to
her right. Raven paused and laid her ear against the door.
"HELP!" shouted the voice of a child.
"MAKE IT GO AWAY!" shouted the voice of another.
Raven felt like groaning. There was no way she was about to leave children in a burning
building while she hunted. Why they hadn't already left was a mystery, but she'd seen stranger
things in the last 3 days. She was ready to turn the door handle, when her ears picked up another
voice, and this one belonged to no child.
"Yes. Call to them, little ones. Bring them closer. Let them join you. Bring them closer to me,"
said a voice that chilled her spine even as she heard it. It was fairly dripping with evil... and it was
the voice that had filled her with thoughts of vengeance for days now.
With a feeling of dread, she realized the demon was in there, with the children, actually using

them as living lures. Lures to bring people like her blithely in to rescue them, only to find a deathgiving demon waiting for them.
Raven backed to the far side of the hall and rushed forward, slamming into the door shoulderfirst. The heavy door tore free of it's lock and slammed into the wall as she rushed into the room.

The demon was a horrid thing. The demon was easily twice as tall as a man, perhaps as tall as
12 feet when it was able to stand erect, but moved in a perpetually hunched-over position, making
its height a barely manageable 7-feet in the tight confines of the apartment. It had taken a position
to the right of the window, where it could not be seen. To the left of the window was what was
left of the children's parents, torn to shreds and burned to a crisp.
Although fleshy and muscular, the demon's head resembled nothing so much as a skull,
seemingly cut open and bolted back on badly. A pair of mismatched horns similar to those of a
Moose rose from it's head and a long, forked tongue licking with flames fell from between it's
toothy jaws. From it's back a set of 4 bony spikes rose, a similar material making the long,
segmented tail that lashed behind it and tipped on the end with a cutting blade.
Fortunately for her, the demon's hiding position had left it open for an attack from behind.
Raven slashed with her sword and opened a long gash in the demon's side.
The demon roared and swung it's fist at Raven. She ducked and the fist crashed clear through
the wall it was hiding behind.
From outside there were cries of alarm as the firefighters pulled back, fearing at first a cave-in,
and then several pointing out that they had seen a FIST make the hole in the wall.

"Oh, too bad, so sad," said Raven sweetly, "It looks like I've spoiled your trap."
"Stupid human! You spoil my fun, I kill you good!" roared the demon as the children made
their way in one panicked mass towards the far end of the room, wanting nothing at all to do with
this battle.
Raven darted in and jabbed, cutting the demon's flesh once again before dancing out of reach
of yet another wild swing of its fist. The fist completely caved in the wall this time, letting brick
and concrete fall away and revealing it to the firefighters below whom had been trying to reach
the window.
Somewhere below, a police officer spotted the demon and started shooting his M-16 assault
rifle at the creature. The demon barely acknowledged it as several of the bullets bounced off its
titanium-tough hide.
So, Raven thought, it WAS true. Only weapons made of certain materials could damage this
demon, just like her Mom's books had said, which was why she had taken her ceremonial sword.

Short of something that could damage a tank at any rate, and in this country the authorities tended
to frown on that sort of item winding up in a civilian's hands.
The demon rubbed at the stinging wound that Raven had given him and reached over and
snatched up a coat-rack from next to the wall.
Raven darted forward and swung her sword in an overhead chop, intending to bury it in that
great horned head.
The demon swung the coat-rack up to block. It looked ridiculous, as the coat-rack was purely
decorative and made from what appeared to be hollow aluminum. Raven expected her long sword
to cut right through it, but was shocked as her blow was easily parried with a shock that ran up
the length of her sword and into her arm.

Raven ducked and rolled away, her arm tingling and partially numbed, as the demon swung
the coat-rack in a short arc that tore away what little remained of the brick wall, the flimsy coatrack crushing through tons of tougher material like a hot knife through butter.
The demon laughed deep in it's throat, it's evil eye-sockets promising it would enjoy beating
her to death. Raven cursed the luck. She had forgotten that Fire-thorn Demons enchanted
whatever they were holding onto at the moment. She had thought that part of their legend to be
pure myth, but apparently it was as true as the rest of the foul thing.
Worse, her arm was numbed so badly by the unexpected parry that she could barely hold onto
the sword. It would pass in a moment, but she doubted that the evil creature would give her that
time.
The Fire-thorn advanced, savoring the moment and chuckled evilly.

Then the last thing that Raven or the Demon expected to happen did. One of the fire fighters, a
soul brave to the point of foolishness, tore through the smoke billowing in from the hallway,
swinging a strangely-made fire ax in an arc as he screamed at the top of his lungs.
The Fire-thorn Demon swatted at him with the coat-rack, clearly not afraid of the fire ax,
seeing that it was neither silver nor bone, the only two materials that it truly feared.
It was shocked when the blow nearly tore the weapon out of it's super-strong hand, and bit
deeply into the metal, bending it at a 45 degree angle. The fire-fighter was shocked that his strike
HADN'T cut straight through the obviously flimsy object, but danced backwards with more speed
than he should have had, especially in his bulky armor.
The demon did something that caught the firefighter completely off-guard. It spat it's tongue at
him, in the fashion as did frogs when they spied a fly, the fiery tip glowing white-hot as it raked
across the front of his armor.

Wade cursed as a warning light appeared on his armor's HUD. He didn't know what this
damned thing was, but it's tongue was hot enough to penetrate even the Roscoe's heat-shielded
armor. Even so, it was less effective against the Roscoe than it would have been against anything
else. NEMA had designed his armor with fire in mind, and it was TOUGH.
Raven didn't waste the opportunity, as surprising as it was. She pulled a throwing star out from
the folds of her trench coat, one carved from interlocking pieces of bone, and threw it with her
good hand. It whistled through the air and embedded itself in the side of the demon's skull.
The Fire-thorn Demon screamed in surprise as pain exploded in its head. It was so shocked that it
let go of the coat-rack and grabbed at the thorny bone projectile lodged in its head, succeeding in
gashing its hand on one of the other points on the throwing star.
Far from feeling relieved, Raven saw that the wounds she had made earlier were beginning to
close already. The monster was trying to heal faster than they could hurt it.
Darting in quickly, Raven stabbed it in the gut and rolled away, but not fast enough this time.
The demon's back-handed swipe launched her through the air to smash into the wall, cracking the
plaster over the concrete. If not for the armor she had taken 2 days ago, it would have snapped her
spine.
"Big" Wade charged in, driving the vibro-fire ax with all the force his augmented muscles
could offer. The heavy head of the ax sunk into the monster's stomach to the handle, the blow
actually lifting the monster off of it's feet. The 8 inches that the Roscoe armor added to his height
put him on eye-level with the hunched-over monster. The Fire-thorn Demon grabbed the handle
of the ax, completely ignoring the spikes that decorated the handle, keeping Wade from pulling it
back out to use it again.

Wade wasn't prepared for the thing's amazing strength. Even his own considerable strength,
augmented by the Roscoe armor, wasn't enough to break the wounded demon's hold. It was
frightening to behold. Even wounded the demon sensed that it had gained an unexpected
advantage. Wade used his now freed hand to turn up the dial on the cutting torch in his armor's
wrist to full, the 4th setting he'd been afraid to use earlier. He shot it straight into the demon's eye.
The Fire-thorn Demon screamed and flung Wade away, sending him rolling across the floor,
but with the vibro-fire ax back in his hands alone.
The monster was hurt, but it wanted to give just as good as it got. It stalked towards Wade as
he began rising to his feet.
Suddenly Raven was flying through the air behind the monster, driving her sword into the
space of its back where the rear-mounted horns growing from its back didn't meet. And she hung
on.
If it hadn't been so deadly, the scene would have been comical to behold. The demon spun

about, its hands grasping for the nimble and elusive Raven as she hung on doggedly. From
somewhere she produced a silver-plated knife and began driving it into the demon's side again
and again, keeping the monster enraged and in pain.
Wade charged forward again, swinging his ax high to avoid the girl as she thrashed about on
the thing's back, snarling with just as much rage as did the monster.
The Fire-thorn stiffened under Raven and fell forward. She twisted her sword as it crashed to
the ground. It wasn't until her eyes stopped spinning from the impact that she saw that it was
already dead. The fire fighter had sliced it's head clean off of its body, killing the monster.
Raven raised from the monster's carcass slowly, sore form the blow she had taken, but exulting
in the death of the fiend.

"Come on, we don't have time to gloat, Lady," said Wade as he pointed to the door behind
them, the one he had shut sometime during the fight. It was already blackening and the paint
blistering under the intense heat from the other side.
Raven wiped her sword on the demon's filthy loin-cloth and sheathed it in the scabbard hidden
under her trench-coat.
Wade led her over to the frightened children, all of whom looked haunted by what they had
just witnessed. Raven wondered briefly if they hated her.
They had been forced to watch their own parents die, and then been forced to lure in the
firemen. But they had also seen her kill their parents' killer.
Wade picked up the two smallest children and carried them over to the wall which had been
knocked out by the demon. Raven shrugged and decided that she'd have to follow his lead. She
took the last child by the hand and led her over behind the fire fighter.
Wade radioed the fire fighters below and they moved into position with the fall-net. It wasn't
the best option, but the only one they had in the time they had left.
"Okay honey," said Wade in a gentle voice to the shocked child, "When I drop you just go
limp. It's like riding a really big slide down. Ready?"
The child managed a nod before Wade held her out, away from the building at arm's length,
reducing the risk of catching flames or the side of the building on the way down, then allowed the
crew below to get into the best position before letting go.

The little girl screamed as she fell, but hit almost dead-center in the large net held by 8
firemen. A rescue worker hurriedly got her off of it and began examining her for injuries as the
firemen repeated their preparations for the next child.

Wade repeated the process, all the while keeping an eye on the fire door and the wall. Both
were smouldering badly now. As he dropped the last child. As the child hit the net safely below,
Wade grabbed Raven's arm and pulled her back as part of the roof above them gave way,
weakened by the fire and the demon's blows. Wade looked below and saw that one of the firemen
had gotten the child off the net safely, but that the debris had crashed it before the net could be
removed.

"I really hope you've got a plan B, big guy," said Raven as she worriedly looked back to the
wall. Flames were erupting on their side now and the fire door to the apartment was bulging
inwards like a balloon from the terrible heat trying to get in.
Wade's eyes looked about and lit on the fire ladder 2 stories below them. Without warning,
Wade swept her up in one arm, while hanging his ax on his utility belt with the other, sprinting
right at the wall erupting into flames right before their eyes.
"Hold on, sweet-stuff," Wade growled as he pivoted close enough to the wall that the heat
singed the small hairs on Raven's arm. Wade took off at a dead run, directly for the hole in the
wall.
Raven's eyes, however, were glued to the wall behind them which burst into flames, the fire
moving in an almost oily mass as it was fueled by the fresh source of air. It seemed to chase after
them, quickly gaining in spite of how fast that Wade was running in the enhanced armor.
Not stopping when reaching the hole in the wall, Wade leapt as far as he could. The enhanced
armor added another 10 feet to what would have already have done an Olympic high-jumper
proud (adrenaline was a wonderful thing).
Raven yelped as she felt them fall, the flames shooting out of the hole over their heads, and
she briefly wondered if death by falling would be better than dying by burning to death.
Wade grunted as he slammed into the frame of the ladder, making the entire ladder shudder on
its brace on the fire truck. They began to slide off as Wade grabbed at the rails sliding by with his
free hand, refusing to let the girl go to fall, even if he had to go with her.
Luckily his hand caught onto one of the rungs, and he grabbed on with every ounce of
enhanced strength he and the suit had. 6 stories off the ground they hung, suspended, as the
firefighters began reeling in the ladder along with the wild man that led them, one that had, once
again, defied death to save a life.
Wade turned his eyes to the girl he held as she knocked on his helmet.
"Looks like I owe you one," said Raven.
"I'll settle for a phone number. By the way, Merry Christmas," said Wade with a chuckle.
"Merry Christmas, you crazy dope," replied Raven with a grin.

*****

DuPage Airport, St. Charles, Illinois, January 20th, 2098

28 days after the coming of the Rifts

Savannah checked the ammo clip on the M-16 assault rifle that she had been issued and
wondered, not for the first time, how things could have changed so much in just one month.
Before the Blue Zones had appeared, and the apocalypse had started, that was. It was strange to
think that only a month before she had been a postal employee, and the irony that she now carried
an assault rifle all the time wasn't lost on her, although it was far from funny.
As short as NEMA was on personnel, anyone with any form of government training and any
experience with weapons were needed very badly. She had been one of the multitude of refugees
that had been evacuated to the greater Chicago area with thousands of others shortly after it had
all begun, and had been just as lost as everyone. Every single person she knew now had lost
someone precious to them, and many were the last survivors of their families. She had a family,
once. Not that she'd seen any of them in a very long time. She was torn between hope that some
of them were still alive, and that they had at least died quickly, so that they couldn't see what had
become of the world.
Even here, so close to Chicago, bodies were still being collected for burial. The gray-gunk
snow that they now knew was a mixture of volcanic ash and snow from what appeared to be the
beginning of a nuclear winter at least kept the bodies from rotting too quickly. Not that the air
was at all pleasant as it was. Since the coming of the Blue Zones, the air stank of burning flesh,
rubber, and wood. It was everywhere. Even the gas mask she wore with it's air filter often wasn't
enough to block out all of the smell. God knew how the civilians handled it.
With Chicago quickly becoming humanity's fall-back position, it was vital to keep all the lanes
of traffic in and around the city functioning. The airport was vital, as NEMA kept flying in
supplies for the refugee way-station in their own, advanced, aircraft. All civilian aircraft was
grounded until the snow stopped falling. The heavy ash in the snow tended to clog jet engines and
air-intakes within minutes of use. Still, they would be a valuable resource eventually, and for the
moment they were also a resource of spare parts for the NEMA aircraft. They had to start
conserving these resources now. The last she had heard, most of Michigan was on fire. The parts
stores were closed there, permanently.
Unfortunately, something had decided to take the airport over as it's own private stomping
grounds.

The Blue Zones hadn't just brought world-wide ruin with them when they came. Other...
things...had come with them as well. Savannah still had trouble accepting that these things were
actually demons, but having seen their handiwork she no longer doubted it.
There were other creatures too, who claimed not to know how they wound up here, but they
usually weren't THIS destructive. The demons were easy to tell apart. They were the utterly evil,
maniacal ones bent on torture and death, and many had powers that were impossible to explain
unless you used the word 'magic.'
Most were also immune to conventional weaponry, like the M-16 and the Browning 9mm
pistol she carried. To hurt one of the major bad-guys (demons) you needed some MODERN
weapons, like her vibro knife or the NEMA SLR-250 Laser Rifle she carried, but the laser rifle
needed E-clips to work, and it was hard to get those re-charged. Luckily a lot of the major badguys seemed to have a weakness to silver. NEMA had exploited that by giving all it's soldiers as
many silver-coated bullets as they could manufacture. But not all of them were vulnerable to it.
For some it took wood, for some cold iron, and for others it took weapons made of bone.

It was enough to make your head swim. But she'd try the M-16 first if she had to fight. The
bullets were a lot easier to get.
"Any word on what we're up against yet?"
The question snapped Savannah out of her thoughts. She looked up from her rifle to see Red
Dog approaching. He was carrying one of the NEMA 5.56 mm Assault Rifles that he had snagged
off the body of a NEMA soldier a while back. It was a far more advanced version of the assault
rifle she held.
"Not yet," she answered, "All we've seen so far are the cultists. They've got hostages in that
church over near the runway. I can't believe anyone would follow one of those things after they've
seen what they can do. They re-define 'inhuman'."
"Lot of folks see it as being able to remain immune to the devil if they're working for him,"
said Red Dog as he risked a peek over the car they were using for cover. He jerked his head back
just before a bullet whined off of the hood above his head, "They're still there, by the way."
"You think?" asked Savannah with sarcasm dripping form her voice. If it hadn't been for the
helmets and the police-style vests that NEMA had provided those of them that Red Dog would
have gotten his fool head shot off ages ago.
The partial body armor gave them a slight edge on the cultists, armed with whatever weapons
they had managed to scavenge from the ruins that were everywhere these days, but of the 10
guards that had been assigned to protect this airport, 2 were lying out there on the field. Bullets
got past the armor if enough of them were fired, and wherever the cultists had gotten their
weapons, they had also gotten a great deal of ammo for them as well.

The captain had radioed NEMA for backup, but with everything in such chaos, there was no
telling when, or if, help would arrive. Until they had to, or until help arrived, they were staying
put and not giving the cultists anything to shoot at... except for Red Dog. One would think a man
his age would be a bit more cautious.
They stood a good chance to taking them at any rate, if it were just the cultists they were
facing. But somewhere the religious nuts had actually managed to find an old fashioned tank they
were using. It was an old, out-modeled Abrams M-1, but it was better than anything that the
Militia had here in St. Charles. Nothing they had save Savannah's rifle and two other militiamen's PLP-20 Laser Pistols could hurt that metal monster. On the other hand, it's cannon and
machine-gun could make mince-meat out of them.
"You hear that?" asked Red Dog as he cocked his head to one side.
Savannah put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from sticking his head up to take a better
look.
It was a motorcycle, a souped-up, high performance model. It came through the snow drifts,
ploughing up clouds of the gray-goo in it's wake. The driver was moving at insane speeds,
considering the road conditions. He was also drawing a lot of attention.
Savannah and Red Dog covered their ears as the tank's cannon fired.
She saw the motorcycle swerve a moment before the deserted convenience store he was
passing exploded in a fireball. The rider knew how to drive that thing.
The machine-gun mounted on top of the tank's turret opened fire, sending a stream of .50
caliber lead slugs racing through the air. A line was stitched through the snow and over the form
of the rider and his motorcycle... to no effect whatsoever.

Savannah felt hope for the first time today. The rider and his bike must both be encased in
modern armor, which was just as bullet-proof as the tank itself.
Then the canon fired again, and Savannah felt her heart sink as the rider and his motorcycle
vanished in a cloud of smoke and flames. Even with her ears still ringing, Savannah could hear
the ragged cheer go up from the cultists.
The cheering dropped in volume and then ceased all together as the man came running out of
the smoke and flames, moving far too fast for anything human.
They opened fire on him and puffs of dirt was thrown up about him, with some of the bullets
hitting him, but bouncing off without doing any real harm. Behind them, the tank's firing crew
hurried to re-load the cannon.
Savannah's eyes widened as she saw the man pull from over his shoulder the biggest energy
rifle she'd ever seen. Almost instinctively, she reached over and pushed down Red Dog's head to

keep him from rising to watch. The man fired on the run, sending a bolt of fiery energy flashing
above their heads. She heard an explosion and screams, but didn't dare raise her head as bullets
began whining all around them as the man actually leapt over them, clearing them and the vehicle
with ease as he continued charging.

"JESUS! Did you SEE that? He had to have jumped 20 feet," shouted Red Dog, his eyes wide
in wonder.
"Just be glad he's on OUR side," said Savannah.
He continued to ignore the bullets that bounced off his armor as he returned fire with the PR470 "Hot Seat" Plasma Rifle. He didn't bother to aim at the relatively harmless "soft" targets
firing at him, but concentrated his fire at the vehicles they were hiding behind. Each time he shot,
one exploded, melting and showering the people with flames and molten metal, rubber, and
gasoline. He kept his sights set on the only real danger these rebels had... the tank.
It was an old Abrams A-1, but it's main gun could still be a major pain with a lucky shot...
which was why he wasn't going to let them have another.
Still running at 35 MPH, he flexed his powerful legs and sent himself airborne again, landing
right on the turret as it began moving to seek him as a target. The computer couldn't get a lock,
however, while he was sitting right on the barrel itself.
Holding the Plasma Rifle aloft, he pulled a grenade from his belt, flicked off the pin with ease,
and dropped it down the barrel. He quickly leapt to the body of the tank itself before leaping
away again.
The old M-1, although high-tech at it's time, hadn't been designed to deal with modern
explosives. The grenade splintered the cannon, setting off the shell in place and sending it's
deadly force back into the tank itself. The tank was carrying 12 more explosive shells that all
went off.
Shrapnel went everywhere, filling a 200-foot radius with a cloud of death. The rebels' shouts
and screams were cut off in an instant as splinters of depleted uranium armor tore through them
like shotgun pellets through toilet paper.
With their heads buried in their own laps, both Savannah and Red Dog slowly raised their
heads, looking at each other to ask for reassurance that they were still breathing. In unison, they
slowly raised their heads up, looking over the shredded hood of their vehicle.

He came striding out of the cloud of smoke and flames, backlit by the dwindling fires that
used to be the rebel's tank. Neither could decide if he looked like either an avenging angel or a
demon straight from the fires of hell itself.

Suddenly he dropped his energy rifle and grabbed both sides of his helmeted head in obvious
agony.
Savannah's eyes widened as the monster responsible for all this suddenly appeared out of
nowhere, around the side of the building, and she'd never seen anything so horrible in her entire
life as it's true form.
The demon was a screaming, writhing mass of twisted and coiled tentacles and flesh. It had
three twisted tentacles, tipped with horribly, slobbering mouths on the ends of them. Three tails
flashed and flailed about as it moved. Buried in all it's chaos, in the flesh of the thing's body, were
three human-like eyes of perfect form. Far from detracting for the thing's ugliness, it only seemed
to accentuate it's full horror with those three perfect eyes in it.
The entire body of the thing undulated as it moved towards the man, veins and arteries
throbbing, so the thing never seemed to be at rest. It also seemed to be constantly in pain. The
thing opened all three of it's mouths in anticipation and Savannah saw, with wide eyes, that they
stretched open a full 2 feet each. Overall, the creature was the size of a small car, and dwarfed the
man kneeling in pain before it's advance. Not to mention that the man whom had just saved them
was obviously in agony, and the thing hadn't even touched him yet.

"We have to do something," hissed Savannah to Red Dog.

"WHAT? Are you nuts? Just look at that thing."
"He needs help, and he came here to help us," said Savannah as she pulled the bolt on her old
M-16 rifle.
Red Dog groaned and readied his 5.56 rifle. With any luck, the thing would also be vulnerable
to silver rounds.
Following Savannah's lead, they raised up over the hood of their car and opened fire on full
auto. 5.56mm shell casings rained down on top of the metal car, sounding like a rapid rain as they
sent silver-jacketed death racing outwards.
The man's NEMA body armor deflected the few stray shots that hit him without harm.
Unfortunately, so did the monster's hide. It appeared that the monster was no more vulnerable to
silver bullets than the tank had been.
Not that their attack had been a total loss. They had gotten it's complete attention.
Savannah and Red Dog threw themselves down as the thing screamed, the sound threatening
to break their eardrums, as the thing sent a bolt of pure mental energy at them.
"That was close," said Savannah as she reached for her laser pistol.
She stopped when she saw that Red Dog was convulsing, his eyes wide and glazed... and his
helmet deeply dented. Savannah cursed and tried to take his helmet off, but stopped when his

head came apart when she lifted it free. Red Dog gave one more shake and then lay still.
Savannah forced herself to look away from her friend as she swallowed her gorge, tears hot in
the back of her throat as she croaked, "I told you to keep your head down, you... big... dope."
Savannah grabbed Red Dog's laser rifle and raised above the hood of the car, to find that the
demon had managed to nearly reach the man, whom was still holding the sides of his head and
groaning in agony.

Savannah aimed and thumbed the power selector up to it's highest setting before firing. The
burning beam of coherent light sliced right across one of the demon's eyes.
The demon thrashed in pain, suddenly blind on one side. It sent forth a bolt of pure mental
force in retaliation, but it's aim was off. The blast struck an abandoned pickup instead, shredding
the metal like tissue paper.
Still blinking back tears of loss for her only friend from back home, Savannah fired again,
blistering the demon's hide. The creature writhed about, bringing one of it's still-intact eyes to
bear directly on her.
Savannah's eyes widened as she realized that it was mad and that it had, at last, located her,
now seeing her clearly, and the car it had shredded with but a thought was identical to the one she
was using for cover.
The man that had rushed to their rescue earlier had removed his hands from his ears. As
Savannah watched, he performed a spectacular dive, leaping much further than she had thought
possible for anyone, snatching his big plasma rifle as he rolled to his feet. He fired the weapon,
nearly point-blank, into the demon's body.
The creature actually took the shot in stride, turning back towards the man and screaming
again, the grating sound driving the man to his knees again. But not before Savannah noticed that
he refused to let go of his weapon. She did the only thing she could think of and fired again into
the demon's 'back', if it indeed had a back.
The attack seemed to take the demon off guard, making it's scream falter for a moment.
One hand clamped in pain to his head, the man shot it again with his plasma rifle, washing it
with super-heated gasses nearly the same temperature as the surface of the sun.
For a brief instant, Savannah hoped that if they could keep the thing confused and kept it
turning from one to the other, without letting it focus on them for long, that, between the two of
them, they might be able to kill the loathsome thing. The far-too-brief flare of hope died when
one of the demon's flailing tails slammed into the man's chest like a battering-ram.
The blow lifted the man clear off his feet and sent him crashing through the side of the
building they had both been in front of. Savannah looked in disbelief as the occasional brick fell

from the hole in the reinforced wall's hole. The impact from either the thing's tail or with that wall
had surely broken every bone in the poor man's body.
With horror, she saw the demon turning, bringing both it's remaining eyes to bear on her. She
felt her heart hammering in her throat in fear, pure and naked, flooded her veins. She just knew it,
she was dead, just as soon as it could be bothered to kill her.
Her horror deepened as she saw the demon shudder in pleasure, scenting her fear and
somehow drawing it into itself, somehow feeding on it.
'Join with me! I will give you power, and with it you can make all your enemies suffer! Be my
slave, my servant, and I shall make you master of your own race!'
Savannah blinked. That... DEMON.. Had spoken to her, directly into her mind... and it
WANTED her!
Savannah told herself to raise the rifle, to keep firing, until that thing was dead, but found her
arms paralyzed with fear as the thing slowly slithered towards her, whispering tempting
obscenities into her mind.
Her eyes widened when, unbelievably, she saw the man again, framed inside the hole he had
made in the wall. She had no clue how he had survived.

As she watched, rooted to the spot, he pointed his left arm at the demon's only blind side. His
arm just seemed to open up in three directions, like some kind of strange, mechanical flower.
Three objects seemed to pop out of his arm and into position, and Savannah couldn't figure out
what they were until he actually fired them.
Each of the 3 mini-missiles left behind a contrail of white smoke as they flew without error
towards the demon. The explosion, even at this distance, was enough to send Savannah
sprawling, the car in front of her rocking on it's frame.
The demon screamed again. She hurried to get back to her feet, her paralysis broken. She
couldn't believe that the damned thing was STILL ALIVE, not after being hit with 3 militarygrade mini-missiles. Then she realized this scream was different. It was screaming in PAIN!
Savannah looked over the hood of the car she was hiding behind, noting that she had landed
within reach of Red Dog's body, and that his blood was staining the gray-goop snow a sickly
shade of pink. Gritting her teeth, she hefted the laser rifle as she gazed at the demon.
The demon had changed it's course, leaving a trail of it's own, dark blood behind it as it tried
to crawl away from the fight, knowing it was grievously wounded and seeking to find a safe place
to heal it's wounds. All it would need would be an hour to heal all but the loss of it's eye, and that
would heal not long after.
The man that had fired the mini-missiles from his arm had climbed out of the hole he had been

in. The arm that had fired them seemed to have closed again, becoming whole once more. he
appeared to refuse to let the demon heal to come back again, and kept firing his plasma rifle into's
it's fleshy mass as quickly as he could. When his e-canister ran dry, he popped it out and replaced
it before beginning his barrage again.
Savannah aimed her rifle and joined him, snapping off shot after shot until her own clip ran
dry. It wasn't until her weapon was empty that she noticed that the thing had already stopped
moving, having finally succumbed to it's wounds.

The man shouldered his rifle and walked until he stood next to Savannah. She was still staring
blankly at the demon. He looked at her and recognized the now-all-too-familiar symptoms of
shock. He sighed heavily before saying, "Good work, soldier... and thanks for the timely assist."
Savannah nodded numbly before turning her face away from the demon's smoking mass to
regard the body of Red Dog. Her knees just seemed to buckle out from under her the next
moment, and she slid down the side of the car she had taken refuge behind. She realized that he
was the last of the people that she had known from home, from before the Great Cataclysm. She
might even be the last person from her entire city. It all just seemed so... UNREAL.
The man knelt down on a knee beside her, checking her quickly but finding no wounds. It was
almost a relief to realize she was just suffering from shock. She'd been through a hell of a lot.
Not that he blamed her for her reaction. That thing's scream had nearly caused his head to
explode, and he could still taste the coppery blood in his mouth from the nosebleed he had under
his helmet. That demon had been a real horror, all right.
"Look, just wait for me while I go get my wheels, all right? Then we can both get out of here.
Okay?" he asked her in a softer voice.
Savannah nodded numbly, still staring at Red Dog's body where it lay in the snow. It seemed
terribly important to her, right then, that she remember him as he had been, foolishness and all,
and all the others from Cleveland that they had lost in just the last month.

230 survivors. How could she be the last of them?

The man ran off in the thick snow, in that same inhuman speed he had shown earlier. Watching
him distracted her from her depressing thoughts. He had to be moving at what? 30? 35 MPH?
That was faster than a horse. How could he do that?
He returned quickly, pushing his NEMA Combat Bike. The tank's shell hadn't done much
damage to the tough, lightweight machine after all. It certainly still looked workable. The
explosion must have just knocked him off of it, she realized.
He leaned the combat bike over on it's kick-stand, although Savannah thought that it might

stand up without it in all this snow. He put it in front of Savannah, blocking her view of RedDog's body before her eyes could focus on him again.
"Listen, the rest of the NEMA troops are being pulled out of the area. Your position was the
last to be evacuated and we're running late. We need to recover what equipment we can and go
after them. We need to get to the dust-off area before they finish evacuating. Do you think you
could hold on to me while I drive?" he asked with concern in his voice.
Savannah blinked, still feeling a bit disconnected, but managed to nod her head.
"Okay, sit tight and let me take care of something first."

It was a grim business, but standard procedure now. When someone fell, it was up to the
survivors to strip them of anything still useful. Savannah watched from around the combat bike
with teary eyes as the man took Red-Dog's weapons, ammo, armor, and food supplies. Even his
split helmet and gas mask went into the backpack before he sealed it and slung it over the rear of
the combat bike.
Savannah's lip trembled as she saw him lying there in nothing more than a thin shirt and pants.
He just looked so... cold.
"Please?...don't leave him like that," Savannah mumbled, "He was always afraid that the rats...
or something else..." She couldn't continue the thought. With all the dead bodies lying around, the
rats had been feasting. And quite a few of the demons.
The man looked at Savannah, then back to the dead militia soldier. They had stopped trying to
bury all the bodies in individual graves weeks ago. There just wasn't enough manpower. The
bodies were too many, and now the ground was permanently frozen.
Savannah looked pleadingly at him, her voice choked with emotion, as she said, "Please?"
He shook his head. There was too much pain in her voice for him to simply ignore. Orders be
damned. And here he had thought that he was past being able to feel sorry for anyone else, seeing
how sorry he'd felt for himself for some time now.

He thought for a moment, then opened the car's door. Hefting the dead soldier inside, he sat
Red-Dog into the seat. His head had deflated like a balloon, and he kept himself between RedDog and Savannah, blocking her view of the gristly spectacle. The Slithering Screamer's mental
bolt had reduced the bone in it to powder and splinters, the flesh into so much pulp. The brain
probably resembled jelly. He fished the damaged helmet out of his pack and put it over his head
to hide it from her. She's suffered enough as it was.
Again, his humanity surprised him. He thought he'd lost that weeks ago.
Closing the door, he pulled his motorcycle back from it and returned to make the woman wait

beside it. Savannah watched him as he returned to the car, taking a vibro-knife from his belt. It
was a simple matter to remove the gas tank from the vehicle with a few simple slices, the vibroblade easily slicing through the supports for it. He sat it in the back seat of the vehicle and made
several punctures in it, letting the fuel play out over the material inside, as well as the body of the
dead soldier.
He used a piece of wood from the soldiers' own sentry fire to light the car. Flames roared
through it, consuming everything within as it burned brightly in the dim light, marking briefly
one of the thousands of resting places of fallen heroes, all fallen while trying to defend what was
left of humanity, of the world that they had known before the Great Cataclysm.
From her seat on the back of the NEMA Combat Bike, her arms around the man's waist,
Savannah watched Red-Dog's funeral pyre until the distance and the snow storm swallowed it up
behind them. It took a few more moments before she realized that the man she was holding onto
was asking her a question, not for the first time.

"Sorry?"
"I asked, 'What's your name?'"
"Savannah Howard. 113th Ohio Militia Volunteer. You?"
"Shemp. Sgt. Shemp Fine."
"What?"
"Shemp. Like the Stooge in those old black and white films. My dad named me while he was
drunk, I think."
"Oh. I was afraid that thing back there had killed you, Shemp."
Shemp snorted. The sound didn't carry with it the usual amusement one expected when
hearing a snort as he answered, "I don't get killed that easily these days. I died a lot easier the first
time. Hold on and I'll try to get us to the extraction point on time."
"The FIRST time?" asked Savannah in confusion.
"During the first week after the Great Cataclysm I was caught in an explosion. Was clinically
dead for about 3 minutes. Wound up losing my arms and legs. NEMA gave me new ones. Now
hold on."
Savannah did hold on, as Shemp accelerated the combat bike up to 100 MPH, weaving
between rows of forever-stalled traffic as he made his way back to the main highway.
Savannah wondered about his explanation. Had he really died? She found she was just glad
that he had been there when she had needed him to be.

Savannah couldn't help but notice that many of the cars they passed were loaded with what
was usually people's most prized possessions, left behind as the people tried to flee for safety
early on during the crisis, a month ago.
It had been before they realized that there was NO safe place anymore. Some had refused to
believe it, abandoning their cars. Most of their bodies were huddled together, further up the
highway along with the rest of the snarled traffic that stretched away for miles in all directions.
Many of the cars still had the original occupants still in them, now with their flesh colored
blue where they had tried huddling together for warmth in vain. It was sad. In their last hours of
life, they had tried to become close again, but too late.
So much waste. So much death.
Savannah would have cried if she wasn't afraid her eyes would freeze shut. Even with Shemp's
body taking the brunt of the freezing cold wind, she was freezing on the back of the motorcycle.

Illinois had never enjoyed a warm winter, and the Great Cataclysm, among other things, had
dropped the temperatures by 30 degrees on average, world-wide. She was willing to bet that at
the moment it was at least 30 below zero, even discounting the wind-shear being whipped up by
their swift progress.
Savannah's sense of time was slipping. She wasn't sure how much later it was when she was
roused out of her lethargy by Shemp's voice when he said, "You're shivering."
Savannah felt frozen to her bones. She had to clamp her mouth shut to keep her chattering
teeth from shredding her lips as she grunted, "C... c... c... cold!"
Shemp groaned. He had forgotten that Savannah wasn't wearing full-environmental body
armor like his. She was also still vulnerable to frostbite, even if he no longer shared that
vulnerability anymore.
Looking around quickly, Shemp saw that there wasn't anything in the area resembling what
she needed. With another sigh, he turned the Combat Bike around, decreasing their speed, and
followed the trail he had already cut through the snow. He had passed one of those mega super
stores a mile or so back. He hoped it had what she needed in it, still.

DAYS OF THE APOCALYPSE (Part 2)

Luckier Nugget Saloon, Main Street, Silver City, New West,

New Mexico Territory (Old American Empire), May 3rd, 105 P.A.

Lady Priscilla put down the manuscript amid a chorus of groans. She peered about, not having
realized that the tale that she was reading had drawn quite a crowd.
She also spotted Martin Hazel and his friend, Toby "Ripper" Luke and his girlfriend, Nikita,
had joined the ranks of the crowd interested in hearing the tale.
Ruffy hurried from the bar with a glass of wine, the red wine that Lady Priscilla liked.
"Is it my imagination, or do a lot of those characters share last names with a lot of our
friends?" asked Ginger, studying the book laid out before Lady Priscilla.
"Yeah, like, I SO totally caught that too," said Heather giddily.
"Yeah, I was wondering about that," said Meggy as she scratched between her ears in
confusion, "Wasn't that first part about someone with OUR Mandrake's last name? But I thought
HE was from a time even before the Coming of the Rifts?"
"I am," said Mandrake as he took a seat opposite from where Lady Priscilla sat, "But in
addition to my younger brother and I, I also had a younger sister and an older brother. I won't
mention my dastardly twin. It appears that the Mandrake line continued on without us in the gene
pool."
"What about that creepy trio?" asked Mocha, wondering over to the table, "Wasn't one of them
named...?"
"Prosek," confirmed Ginger, "As in Emperor Karl Prosek, the Emperor of the Coalition States,
and the most powerful man in North America. Even his twisted family had to start somewhere, I
suppose, and apparently this Kathy, Tristan, and Wilma is the start of it."
"Not quite," said Lasher as he approached from the bar with Juanita trailing close behind, "The
fellow named Tristan is unknown to me, but the other lady in the tale... her name was Wilma
DUNSCON, apparently the one my own God-Father was named after."

"You mean the Tyrant that rules the Federation of Magic?" asked Lady Priscilla, checking
back to see that he was right, "But... Emperor Prosek and Lord Dunscon LOATHE each other.
They've been deadly enemies for years."
"Their ancestors must have had a much more cordial relationship," offered Lasher with a
shrug.
"Now, I know I'm just a good old country Preacher," said Preacher Alpo as he cleaned the two
barrels of his TW Hellfire Shotgun, "But if that was the case, then I predict that Mr. Richard Lean
is going to be very UN-popular with the Coalition States powers that be, once this book is
published in earnest. What with the Federation of Magic and the Coalition States being such
deadly enemies for about the last 100 years, a past affiliation with the rules of both is going to be

quite an embarrassment. For both of them, that is."

"I'm surprised that MY ancestor was mentioned at all... not to mention that he was a POLICE
OFFICER. Especially considering that I was number 5 on the Coalition States most wanted list
during the War on Tolkeen," said Connor Green as he came over to join the ever-growing circle of
friends.
"If that was true, how did you wind up near Tolkeen rather than in Chi-Town? Your ancestor
worked for NEMA, it would seem, and we know from Base Morrigan that Chi-Town and the
Coalition States grew out from NEMA. Even the book confirms that," asked Ruffy.
"I haven't a clue," admitted Connor, "From what the book reads, it sounds like Chi-Town, what
they used to refer to as Chicago before the Great Cataclysm, was the last refuge of humanity left.
Or at least the best bet for survival."
"And who is this "Big" Wade Adams? And Raven, Shemp, and Savannah? I don't think we've
ever met any of their descendants," asked Wolf as he sipped at his own mug of mead.
"I don't know, but one thing that the book is telling us is that a LOT of people died back then,"
said Ginger worriedly, "Maybe... maybe they... didn't make it?"
Everyone exchanged glances before they all settled expectantly back on Lady Priscilla.

Lady Priscilla sighed and said, "All right. I can see that I'm in for a long night of reading.
Ruffy, would you be so kind as to bring me a pitcher of water as well? I foresee my having a very
dry throat before this is all over."
Martin used his radio while Ruffy was gone and told the others, "Yellissa, Samantha, and Jane
are on their way as well. I had a feeling they'd want to hear this as well."
Quiet wasn't something that one normally associated with the Luckier Nugget on any night,
but as Lady Priscilla began again, one could hear a pin drop.

St. Charles Super-Mall, St. Charles, Illinois, January 23rd, 2099

31 Days after the Coming of the Rifts

Savannah wasn't aware that she had fallen asleep, but certainly approved of the way she
awoke. She couldn't remember the last time that she had felt this toasty-warm feeling that only
came from a bed and a wealth of squishy, fuzzy blankets.
Comfortable, that was the word.

She reached beside her, expecting to find her husband's warm back with her hand, just like
always when she had this feeling in the morning. When she felt only empty space, she opened her
eyes in confusion. Then the last month came flooding back to her to ruin that feeling.
Savannah suffered a moment of disorientation as she found herself not in the familiar bedroom
she had shared with her husband in Cleveland, Ohio, but in what appeared to be some kind of
mattress store's display. The only light came from some one of those propane -fueled lanterns that
she had seen used before on camping trips. She hadn't a clue how to start one of those antiques,
her husband having always lit it for them.
Outside of the circle of light, everything was very, very dark. Savannah felt strange and,
looking under the covers, she discovered that she was only wearing her under-things!
And the covers she was under was a fair imitation of a small mountain, and might just qualify
for a cave rather than a bed. There had to be at least 5 very warm comforters under her and a
dozen and a half more on top. A mound of soft pillows, all still with their price tags on them,
propped her up comfortably in the bed.
Looking over to her left, she spotted her clothes, the fatigues that NEMA had given to her and
the other militia volunteers, piled on one bed along with her boots and gloves.
Her weapons, gas mask, helmet, backpack, and riot armor were laid out where she could have
found them easily.

Beside hers lay what looked like most of Shemp's equipment as well, freshly cleaned and
serviced, just as hers appeared to have been. She could still see in his armor's breastplate the long
dent in it that the demon had caused when it had slammed him with it's tail.
Beside his armor was arrayed several packages of food-stuffs that were decidedly nonmilitary. A half-empty bottle of 20-year-old Scotch, an opened box of Twinkies, several cans of
food, a pair of canisters of propane fuel, and a large book, left lying face-down in lieu of a
bookmarker.
Savannah leaned forward for a better look at the book, clutching the closest blanket in
modesty, and shivered in the cold air this let into her little cocoon of warmth.
H.G. Wells' TIME MACHINE.
What she wouldn't give for one of those for herself right now, to go back to before all this
happened.
Then she noticed a second stack of clothing, doubtless from another store. Most were still
either in a clear plastic wrap or had the tags still attached to them.
There was a set of thermal underwear which looked sinfully warm. A bra that looked to be the
right size, and several different sizes of panties. Shemp obviously had trouble guessing women's

sizes, but she was grateful that he hadn't 'peeked' inside the set she was wearing while she'd been
asleep.
She puled several aside so that she could see them and snorted in amusement when she saw
that they were all actually thongs.
"Yeah, right. You wish," she snickered. She made a mental note to get more conventional
undies when she had a chance. She really would like to get out of these as she'd been wearing
them for probably a week now. Clean clothes had taken on a shockingly low priority.
There was also a very warm-looking flannel shirt and civilian blue jeans. Thick, warm socks.
And civilian hiking boots.
Looking around to make sure that Shemp wasn't in the immediate area, she slipped out from
under the covers and began changing her now-grimy underwear for the fresh one, although she
still wasn't wild with the selection of 'butt-floss' that was all he'd brought.
It was sweet, really, but it simply wasn't something she made a habit of wearing regularly.
She found she had been right; the thermal underwear WAS as warm as it had looked. She felt
much warmer as soon as she had slipped it on. She quickly dressed in the rest of the clothes that
Shemp had left for her, making sure to tie her boots correctly so that she could break them in.
They probably weren't as durable as her military-issued boots, but they were certainly warmer.
Feeling much better now, she took the lantern and began to explore where Shemp had brought
them to.
"How are you feeling?"
Savannah started as Shemp walked out of the dark from the front of the store. He hadn't been
carrying any sort of light to see by, and in spite of multiple obstacles concealed in the shadows, he
moved silently without any stumbles or strips, moving easily through the dark world.
"Better," she answered, making her heart slow down from the little fright he had given her,
"How in the world do you do that? Move through the dark like that?"

It was the first time that Savannah had seen the man outside of his body armor, which had hid
him almost completely. She hadn't known what to expect from someone that could move and
fight like she had seen him do in the battle with the Screaming Slitherer, like some kind of
Superman, but the ordinary, if young, person approaching her wasn't it. He was a bit tall, and
muscular. He needed a haircut, his dark hair having grown a bit long like everyone's these days,
and it strictly wasn't regulation for NEMA. It was long enough to part directly over his left eye.
His hair and the stubble on his jaws spoke of several days without shaving, and were a very
dark brown, like his hair, bordering on the color black.
As Shemp approached, she saw that he was taller than she had thought at first, maybe 5 inches

over 6 feet, and as he came more fully into the light she tried not to stare as she saw that he was
built like a Greco-Roman Athlete under the jeans and checkered flannel shirt that he wore, which
was also gaping open in spite of how cold it was.
With a start she realized she had been thinking of how he would look on the cover of GQ
magazine with the right suit. She hoped she wasn't blushing. She was only too self-conscious as
to just whom had undressed her and actually tucked her into bed.
He had a grin that was slightly lop-sided, slightly higher on the right, as he tapped his temple
near his eye and said, "Cybernetic eyes. Low-light, night-vision, Infra-red, Nano AND Macrovision. They were the very best that NEMA could give me before all this happened."
Savannah blinked. Cybernetics? No wonder they had sent him out alone. Considering what
she'd seen, at least 1 arm and both legs had to be artificial as well. Probably more if his eyes had
been replaced with artificial ones.
No wonder he'd been able to survive the demon's attack. He was, essentially, a walking tank in
human form.
"Oh. How... um... how long...?"
"We've been here for three days," answered Shemp, divining her next question as he pulled up
a seat probably taken from a food-court somewhere. It was made of sturdy, polished steel, unlike
the camping chair that he pointed out for her. When she took the seat, he continued, "You were in
pretty bad shape when I got you here. You were already going into hypothermia. My fault. Since I
got my new parts I sometimes forget that not everyone is as durable and resistant as I am these
days."
Suddenly Savannah realized something from what he had just said and shouted, "THREE!?
Days? Oh, God! The evacuation...!"
"Would be long over by now. Far too late to worry about it. We'll just have to catch up with
everyone else in Chicago. I know everyone was being pulled back to NEMA's Chicago base, the
center for their Mid-West Operations."
Savannah was very conscious that they hadn't made the bug-out because of her. He had chosen
to place himself MIA because he wouldn't desert her or let her die from exposure. Not everyone
would have. She'd seen it happen before over the last month.

Shemp pointed to a stack of clothing he had assembled from somewhere and said, "I've got
some warmer clothing that still have the tags on them, but I've just been guessing at the sizes up
until now. Women's clothes sizes are a complete mystery to me. You can probably tell I'm a bit
'fashion-challenged.' there's more thermal underwear there if I got he other sizes wrong, and I put
a thermal jumpsuit in as well, for when we leave. It's a bit warmer than the khaki uniform they
gave you. You'll probably want to save that one for when we're ready to leave. I should leave and
let you have some privacy while you sort through them for the ones that fit you better than the

ones I left for you."

Savannah smiled as he left the store, granting her some privacy, as he had promised.
She decided that Mr. Shemp might indeed be a cyborg, but at least he was a gentleman, and a
handsome one at that. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that Shemp had included a
selection of not only sizes, but types of underwear in his selections.
Her estimation of him also went up when she saw the moist-wipes he had included. It was a
far cry from a hot shower, but she hadn't had one of those in weeks, either. One after the other, the
moist wipes went into the garbage can as she became aware of just how long it had been since she
had showered, and just how much of the volcanic ash could get into someone's uniform.
Savannah was shivering with goose-bumps plainly visible by the time she finally felt clean
and started re-dressing. She practically jumped into the thermal undies again. She decided she'd
keep the boots when they left, as boots of any quality were becoming quite short in supply
everywhere, even for NEMA.
She settled for finger-combing her curled hair, making a promise to herself to locate a comb
and brush before they left this temporary haven. She looked at her reflection in the shop window
and sighed. She had lost those 10 'trouble pounds' at last, and another 10 pounds besides.
Everyone had been on strict rations for a month. Now she was worrying about becoming too thin.
Savannah shook her head to rid it of the vain thought. At least, as a militia volunteer, she did
get regular rations. Many people were slowly starving as NEMA tried to find enough food to feed
them all. The world was coming apart at the seams, and here she was, worrying about her weight.
She knew she was nearing the big 5-OH, and although modern, advanced medicine made her look
15 years younger, she couldn't help but wonder how much longer that would last with the
shortage on medical supplies and personnel. Not to mention the strain of the daily struggle to
survive. That puts quite a strain on the old system, now doesn't it?
In a habit that came almost automatically, she belted her laser pistol and knife about her hips
on her web belt. One thing that they had all learned about the demons was that many had the
ability to teleport, like in a bad sci-fi movie. One minute an area was secure, the next a horror was
popping out of the woodwork. She supposed that was one of the big reasons that the NEMA
forces had to keep calling a retreat, falling back until they figured it out in Chicago, where
enough of the survivors could concentrate their forces and security to keep a section secure.
Savannah sighed at such thoughts and took the lantern as she made her way towards the door.
The new boots were a bit stiff, but she knew they would loosen with use.

"MUCH better."
Savannah nearly dropped the lantern as Shemp startled her again. He was leaning against a
support pillar, his back turned towards the shop, not 10 feet away.

She blushed as she realized how close he'd stayed while she cleaned and dressed. But she
really wished he'd stop startling her like that. She knew that he hadn't been watching her at least,
though she couldn't say if she were relieved or disappointed about that.
From what Shemp had said earlier, he hadn't been a cyborg for very long. He was somewhere
in his 20's, judging by his looks, nearly half her age, yet she felt self-conscious about how she
must appear to him.

Stop being such a nilly, woman. A boy like that has likely got women practically dripping off
of him.
Shemp nodded at the glass doors to the building. Savannah saw, with a start, that the dirty gray
snow had completely covered the glass doors now. From what little she could see, Shemp had
found refuge for them inside what had been a mega-mall, one that held multiple stores under the
same roof, arrayed around a large central court that was open to the upper levels.
"We've still got power, but I'm not sure if it's safe yet to turn the lights on in here to not. I've
got the heat set for absolute minimal, at about 45 degrees, to keep the skylights clear for the
moment. They've got defrosters built into them. We're all right for the moment, at least until
something happens to the nuclear power grid that powers this area" Shemp said," And I guess we
need to take a few more days to put together some supplies and plan on just how we're going to
get to Chicago. I don't see you clinging to the back of my Combat Bike the entire way in this
weather."
Silently he added, 'No matter how much I like it.'
"Nice of you not to add that it will also give me a few more days to recover from
hypothermia." replied Savannah as she looked around at what she could see of the deserted mall,
her eyes slowly picking out more details by the dim light from the skylights as well as from her
lantern. Some of the shops showed signs of having been looted, for all the good that the bigscreen TV sets were doing their thieves now, but most of the shops had been secure behind rolldown barricades.
"Actually, YOU need to put on some weight while we're here, Miss Savannah," said Shemp
seriously, "You've got almost no natural insulation against the cold where you've lost weight
lately. We all have. And we don't know when's the next time we'll have the chance to stock up on
supplies that AREN'T nutrition bar rations."
Savannah felt her cheeks flush and wondered if Shemp's cybernetic eyes could see it in the
dim lighting. He HAD taken a close look at her when he had undressed her. And he had noticed
that she'd lost too much weight. It was a bit of a surprise that she found that she cared about that.
Changing the subject, she said, "We'll find some maps to begin with. Does this mall have a
bookstore or a post office outlet?"
Shemp raised an eyebrow. He hadn't thought to find a map at either of those places. The

bookstore made sense. If they could find an Atlas, they could see how far they had to go, and
what roads there were, at least BEFORE all the earthquakes. But...
"Okay. I'll bite. Why a postal outlet?" Shemp asked at length.
"Because ALL post offices have maps of their postal routes, including the back roads that don't
appear on most maps. If we don't want to dodge a lot of traffic buried under all that snow out
there, we might want to take those maps," she said, noting his bemused expression, so she added,
"I was a postal carrier at one time before I started working in the data processing and e-mail
division. And I don't want to hear a single wise-crack about me carrying an automatic weapon
these days, either."
Shemp couldn't quite hide his grin as he said, "I guess you get that 'going postal' joke a lot,
huh?"
"More than you'd believe. These days, people need whatever humor they can get, even if it's
bad jokes they've head a thousand times already."

"Sorry. I'll try to refrain. It's just that you look NOTHING like my old mailman, Mr. Forbush.
God, it all seems like a lifetime ago, doesn't it? it's so hard to believe it's only been 31 days since
all this started."
Savannah sighed and said, "I think we can start counting it in months now. The girl I used to
talk to at headquarters on our radio said that the NEMA scientists think that this weather is going
to continue for years now, until all this ash is cleaned out of the atmosphere, after the volcanoes
stop putting it up there."
"Jesus. What about those damned 'Blue Zones'? That's the official name they gave them. How
long are THOSE going to stick around?"
Savannah shrugged. That seemed to be the million-credit question these days. Although
scientists had made predictions and models and endless studies in the past on Nuclear Winters,
none had ever thought to do a study on something like the Blue Zone Phenomena.
Shemp decided to change the subject to something less depressing.
"So, do you want to get something to eat first, or do you want to get some better clothes than
the ones I picked out with my questionable tastes?"
Savannah had to grin as she and Shemp went to find something to eat that didn't have a shelf
life of 30 years.

******

White Sands Military Base, January 28th, 2099

36 Days After the Coming of the Rifts

Tom gripped the butt of his M-160 Assault Rifle nervously as he peered out into the falling
gray-goop and ash, which now nearly completely blocked out the sun. the powerful searchlights
illuminated the uniform gray desert only within their circles of light, even though it was 1:00 in
the afternoon. The only place the light was bright was to the west and north, where a series of
volcanoes lit the horizon a spectacular collage of reds and oranges from their fiery glow.
The other guard in the shack opposite his at the entrance was just as nervous after the attack
yesterday by the Skull Stealer Demon and the group of Spiked Strangler Demons and Hang Jaw
Demon Rats. They had repelled them, actually killing the Skull Stealer in the process, but it had
cost them the base's only Chromium Guardsman Power Armor and 3 more soldiers. 8 more were
still in serious condition in sick bay.
Tom was sorely wishing that reinforcements would arrive soon. They had sent out the coureur
over 10 days ago, and still hadn't gotten any. Didn't folks know what it was that they were
guarding here? How were they supposed to do this if they only had a third of the personnel left
that they needed to make sure the stockpile was secure?
At least the Major had finally released the heavy weapons, like his M-160.
Tom reached for his thermos of hot coffee, but stopped when he heard something move
outside of the dancing circles of light.
Tom leveled his M-160 out into the dim darkness and shouted, "Halt! Stand and identify
yourself or I'll shoot!"
"Please... wait... I need help," said an undeniably feminine voice as one of the shadows moved
closer.

Tom lowered his weapon as a young woman with dark hair staggered out of the snow and ash.
She was quite beautiful, and she barely was able to clutch the ragged remains of her clothing
about her slender form.
Tom's eyes widened as he rushed to the door to open it for her. The poor (nearly nude) girl
must be FREEZING out there. He sat down his weapon so that he could open the door for her,
leaning it against the wall.
Tom opened the door and held out his hand for the girl to take, his eyes traveling down her
nearly nude body.
His eyes widened even further when she grabbed his hand, pulling him forward and offbalance. As he stumbled, he saw a flash in the dim light from his guard shack.

Kathy Prosek pushed the body back inside, closing the door behind her as she shivered. She
pulled the knife from the dead guard's chest before beginning to undress him, taking the clothing
for herself. She threw aside the pathetic rags she had worn to put the guard on his ease and eased
into the thermal overalls and parka, not even flinching at the blood on the front of it. If her plan
went right, it wouldn't the last that wound up on it.
She took the energy rifle from beside the door and opened it to look across at the other guard
shack in time to see Wilma Dunscon open the door, also wearing a blood-stained soldier's
uniform.
Wilma waved her own energy rifle at her to let her know that she had completed her own part
of the plan.
Kathy took the walkie-talkie from the back of her belt and called to those waiting to hear from
her.
"This is it, guys. Tell Tristan to start bringing that walking pile of metal in while I get them to
open the gates for us."
Kathy giggled before she turned on the dead guard's radio and called for the gate to be opened
for 'harmless survivors' that had found the base.
As the doors swung open, her army stood up from under their gray-colored tarps and rushed
inside to take the base in her name.
The understaffed and battle-weary soldiers began putting up a good fight. Right up until
Tristan arrived in his new toy, the one they had taken from the same base that they had gotten
their best weapons and armor from, off of the bodies that the demons had left lying around after
they had finished with them. Tristan had rigged it with massive loudspeakers wired to the outside,
that blared thrash metal music as it came.

The NEMA Mastiff was a huge brute of a giant robot. Standing at 15 feet tall, it's massive
hands and forearms were quite able to drag on the ground, being designed to tear through enemy
walls and fortifications as well as perform nearly impossible rescues. It was also able to take
massive amounts of damage without failing.
Tristan worked the controls of the Mastiff, much like the controls of the giant robot
construction vehicle they had taken from his dad's construction company, and fired a volley of 6
fragmentary mini-missiles into the thickest knot of defenders, breaking apart their defense in a
cloud of blood and gore.
The rest of the soldiers threw down the weapons in surrender as Kathy and Wilma walked into
their new home.

Kathy spotted one of the base personnel wearing a white lab coat under his parka and she
walked up to him, grinning insanely as she cooed, "Now, why don't you be a nice boy and show
me just where you keep all those nice, big NUCLEAR MISSILES?"

Chicago, Illinois Suburbs, February 8th, 2099

47 Days After the Coming of the Rifts

Cpl. Danielle "Dani" Alpo clasped the little silver crucifix at her throat and muttered a small
prayer for the lord to watch over the soldier she had been trying to help. Like far too many good
men and women since this all began, he didn't pull through. The burns over 80% of his body had
just been too traumatic for her to handle with her paramedic's gear. He had needed a full cyberhospital, but the nearest one had been at least an hour away, through one of those Blue Zones.
Dani sighed, crossed herself, and then went about the hard business of stripping the dead
soldier of any useful equipment that she could salvage. It was a grim, but necessary, procedure.
Not that it made her feel any better about having to do it, but it had become paramount that they
recover any and all equipment that they could, to make their resources stretch as far as possible.
Their industrial capacity here in Chicago was extremely limited.
But for a devout Catholic girl like her, it seemed far too much like robbing the dead. She said a
prayer of forgiveness while she went about the task.
Dani found herself thinking about the half-full bottle of Scotch she had hidden under the seat
of her Hoover Jeep, then shook her head. Her patients needed her sober, not wallowing in selfpity at the bottom of a bottle. Later. When she got to rest. THEN, she promised herself, that she
was going to get loaded to the gills.
Dani was loading the salvaged equipment into the back of her makeshift ambulance,
everything from his weapons and boots to even the cigarette lighter from his pocket, when her
radio squawked to life.
"Medic! We need a medic in Zone 124 IMMEDIATELY! Cassidy is down! He's hurt really
bad! We need a medic now, or he's not going to make it!"

She dumped everything in the back and hurried to the driver's seat. The hover jeep lifted off in
a spray of dirty snow as she turned her jeep to the east, a prayer on her lips to let her be in time to
save THIS one.
Everyone knew that anything past Zone 100 was the front. She was going to have to find
someone to cover for her in the 'shotgun seat' along the way. The hover jeep didn't have any
weapons mounted on it. It was really just a slightly modified civilian model with minimal armor

wielded over it's original body and a souped-up engine to handle the extra weight, acting as a
transport and light ambulance, with some storage in the back for extra medical supplies and
salvage from the field. There was only one seat, the 'shotgun seat', which had to be manned by
someone carrying their own weapon, in order for her vehicle to have any firepower at all.
Dani sped through the mostly-clear streets, her flashing red lights giving a clear warning to get
the hell out of her way. She was a woman on a mission.

The barricades that had been set up to separate their section of the city of Chicago about
NEMA Headquarters, was impossible to miss, and was the first leg of her journey. Plasticrete
walls were still being built daily to replace the temporary, makeshift barricades. NEMA had made
use of the excess vehicles lying about and bulldozed them into a tall barrier until more sturdy and
permanent walls could be put into place.
Heavily armed NEMA peacekeepers were everywhere along the wall, often seen firing their
weapons into the ruins that surrounded their center for mid-west operations. A lot of bad things
were coming up north from the Saint Louis area, what was quickly becoming known as both 'The
Hell Zone' and 'Hell's Gate.' the last images to come through over the satellites before the debris
cloud blocked them showed one of those 'Rift' things, where 6 of the Blue Zone Lines intersected
directly at the Saint Louis Arch, constantly open unlike other 'Nexus' Zones', and something
horribly indescribably had been coming through it, as if the Arch, once the city's main tourist
landmark, had been transformed into a door to hell. It was no longer an old monument with
nothing behind it.
Dani drove right up to the main, armored door that led to the south. The officer in charge of
the gate scowled. He clearly didn't like having to open the gate for whatever reason, and there
could only be one reason a medic was rushing up to his gate.
Dani fixed him with a stare that said that she wasn't about to take no for an answer as she said,
"I've got wounded in Zone 124, Sgt. I need armed escort, ASAP."
The Sgt. grimaced. Zone 124 was in the middle of hotly contested territory.
"If you're going in there, you need a SQUAD for your escort," he said.
Dani sighed and pointed to the seat beside her as she said, "I've only got room for ONE, and
no time to argue about it."
The Sgt. sighed in return and pointed to a Pigman, a heavy weapons specialist, as he said,
"Then you're taking my best man with you. WILLINGTON! Get your ass over here, and bring
ALL your goodies with you! PRONTO! The lady's waiting!"

Dani leaned to one side and saw a barrel-chested young soldier detach himself from among the
other soldiers along the wall. He had what was, obviously, artificial arms and carried a big ML-

557 Mini-Missile Rifle in his hands. The rest of the equipment was slung over his back.
"What's up, Sarge?" asked PFC Aaron Willington.
"The lady needs an escort into Zone 124. Got someone out there that needs help, now, and she
can only take one with her. You feeling particularly suicidal today, Private?" he replied.
"Hell, why should today be any different from the rest of the week?" he said with a nod before
shouting to another soldier by the gate. The soldier nodded and took a canvas satchel from the
gate and tossed it to him. From the way it clinked, it probably held spare ammo for that big rifle
he was carrying. He attached the satchel to his belt before climbing into the seat beside Dani.
Where they were going, they were going to need them.

*****

Aaron settled himself in, propped his massive rifle up, and said, "Let's get going, then. It's
meatloaf night and I want to get back before all the mashed potatoes disappear again."
The Sgt. ordered the heavy gates opened, but Dani didn't fail to notice that he had them also
slammed closed right behind them as she accelerated out into no-man's land; the Chicago
Suburbs.

THINGS came charging out of the ruins and deserted buildings as they left, and the weapons
along the wall behind them barked to life, sending rail gun rounds, grenades, laser beams, plasma
blasts, and mini-missiles discharging repeatedly into the hordes of monsters, driving the monsters
back grudgingly.
Away from the wall, the only clear streets were the ones where explosions cleared them along
with the demons and monsters from the Blue Zones. Dani was doubly glad her vehicle was a
hover-jeep, riding on a cushion of air, as it rode over the craters and gray snow with equal ease
and speed.
Aaron stood, then sat down on the upper back of his chair for a better spot to aim as a Grave
Treader Demon came flitting towards them. The infernal thing was drunk on human blood
already, which made it recklessly bold.
The thing was a portrait of horror, standing 8 feet tall, it had enormous bat-like wings that it
flew with, the upper body and head of a skin-and-bones human, flowing, wispy white hair, while
the lower half of the creature appeared to be nothing more than a huge intestine, ringed with
oozing goo and squirming worms. It was a small wonder the thing was also called by the soldiers
the Fright Demon.
Aaron readily made it regret that bold decision as he fired a mini-missile into it's nightmarish,

skeletal face, knocking it right out of the sky as the missile sped towards the floating horror with
a contrail of white smoke then exploded on impact. As the passed where the stunned demon
crashed, Aaron swung in his seat and shot it again, blasting it apart into hot, steaming chunks. The
blast was so close that it rocked the hover-jeep, making Dani curse as she brought it back under
control.
"Score one more for the Pigman!" whooped Aaron. Pigman was the common slang term for a
Heavy Weapons Specialist, those who handled the big guns for NEMA.
Dani spotted a small swarm of Bumble Ball Demons come rolling out of the shadows of a
shattered parking garage and head straight for them.
NEMA had learned that the little, strange creatures were pathetic compared to the other
demons, always being picked on and used by them. Sometimes they were even kicked around by
the bigger, meaner demons like soccer balls. It looked nothing so much like a hairy basketball
with a nose and mouth that resembled a blunt beak, tiny black eyes, tiny arms that ended in spikes
rather than hands, resembling backward-mounted wings of plucked chickens. They had small,
bird-like feet and legs, appearing too small to support it's weight. It had a tail, too, but not
feathered, but pink and fleshy and long. They were almost always twisted and broken, usually by
the bigger demons that loved to torment their smaller kin.
The method they used for locomotion was to tuck in their small limbs and roll at their target,
both as a favorite means of attack and escape, which earned them the nickname The Bowling Ball
Demon.
The little demons were being driven to attack by a much larger and more powerful Fire Thorn
Demon wielding a broken signpost like a club.

The Bumble Ball Demons became 'cannon fodder' in the literal sense as Aaron whooped,
snapping off 3 more of the High Explosive Mini-Missiles as they approached, sending them into
their midst, blasting fully half a dozen of the demons apart and scattering the rest, ruining their
charge before he shifted his aim at the approaching Fire Thorn Demon, and firing a Mini-Missile
into his chest.
Even as big and tough as the Fire Thorn Demon was, it was blasted right back into the
shadows by the powerful, if small, missile.
Without the bigger demon pushing them, the Bumble Ball Demons tucked their limbs in and
rolled away at speed, scattering for cover as Aaron popped out the empty clip on his missile rifle
and slapped in a new one. Aaron looked around and was disappointed to find that no one else
wanted to play.
Dani breathed a sigh of relief as they broke through the ruins at full speed, going over 200
MPH. Most of the demons were concentrated now behind them, ringing the city that was defying
their attempts to get at the people within. At this speed, trouble was unlikely until they got to

Zone 124, located in a large suburb to the southeast.

Aaron slid down into his seat again with a cocky grin. He extended one cybernetic hand and
said, "By the way, the name's Aaron Willington, but my friends call me 'LAW DOG.'"
Dani shook her head as she said, "Danielle Alpo, Medic. Anyone that can cover me like that
can call me 'Dani.' just WHY do they call you Law Dog? Did you used to be a cop or
something?"
Aaron laughed and said, "Nope. Wrong kind of LAW. L. A. W. Short for Light Anti-tank
Weapon. Kind of goes with the occupation. So, you're a medic?"
"Now at any rate. They need medics a lot worse than they need Law Students since the Great
Cataclysm," answered Dani, "I've got a medical background, so this is where they put me."
Aaron was nodding in agreement with that decision when he noticed the silver cross hanging
about her neck and asked, "You religious?"
"Catholic. You?"
"I'd better let you say the prayer for us. Where we're going, the big guy is bound to listen to
you sooner than me. And I'll take all the help I can get."
It was truly amazing that since the appearance of the demons just how many people had finally
managed to find religion again. Amazing, but hardly surprising. It was hard to question the
existence of angles when the demons were trying to break down your front door and eat you.
The wind howled, driving ever more of the gray-goop snow, a mixture of nuclear winter snow
and volcanic ash, across the barren landscape of what was once crop-land.
The hellish scenery was broken here and there by a building or car sticking out of a tall
snowdrift, or by a body partially exposed by either the scouring winds, packs of rats, or demons
scrounging for the bodies of the dead for sustenance.

Sector 124 had once been a bustling suburb, servicing commuters that worked in the greater
Chicago area. Mostly it was where the workers had gone to when their 9 to 5 jobs were over until
the next day. It was a patchwork community combining 2 and 3 story houses for the more affluent
white-collar workers and 8-12 story apartment buildings and condos for the less affluent bluecollar workers. There were also the usual assortment of gas and electric stations for servicing and
refueling both gas and electric vehicles, convenience stores, groceries, shops, vehicle dealerships,
banks, and the services that maintained all of these things that made it a real community.

Or at least it had been. Now it was just another Necropolis; a city of the dead. Before the 3mile-high, 1-mile-wide river of blue-white energy had appeared, running the length of the sleepy
little community, unleashing demons to destroy what the freak storms and earthquakes missed.

The sign by the road proudly proclaimed, 'Welcome To Green Meadows! A Family Town!'
On the sign a man with dark hair stood next to a woman with blonde hair, watching as a young
boy played with a red ball.
Someone or SOMETHING with a very sick sense of humor had used the welcoming sign to
crucify 4 people to frame it. Their frozen, blue-hued bodies were held upright by a series of ropes
and chains that had been scavenged from the ruins of the town. Multiple holes in the sign near
them suggested that someone had used the bodies for target practice before they had died, if the
blood smears were any indication.
The ash-laden snow covered everything like a dirty blanket, some of the layers of blowing
gray-goop reached depths of 8 feet already in places, and the gray-goop was still drifting down.
Ironically, everything in Green Meadows was now gray. Just like the rest of the world had
become.

"It really hits you in the gut, doesn't it?" asked Aaron, "As bad as things are in Chicago, they're
a lot worse out here. It's a wonder some people STILL won't give up their homes."
Dani could only agree. At least in Chicago they still had the nuclear power stations up and
running, clean water, heat... heck, even the streets had, for the most part, been kept clean of the
ash/snow mixture, even after weeks of it steadily falling. Of course, if it kept up at this rate, soon
the entire city was going to be buried everywhere except where they were digging at. She
wondered, absently, if this was how the citizens of ancient Pompeii had felt when the volcano had
erupted.
Entering the twisted streets of the suburb meant that Dani had to lower their speed, which
meant that Aaron had to resume his high seat, the LGR-360 in his hands in place of the MiniMissile Rifle, keeping it ready as they moved deeper into the dead city. The missiles were great
for long-range targets and for massive damage, but they went off in a BIG radius. If one of the
shots from that hit something too close, they could be caught in the explosion as well. Lasers
were a bit more discriminating, and they didn't explode. If he needed an explosion, the grenades
in the rifle he now held had a much smaller radius.
Dani drove down the street where the NEMA station, located in what had once been Green
Meadows' sheriff station. To the left and right, silent homes passed by them. Some still had the
windows and doors boarded up by the owners that had tried to make a last stand or simply hold
out for help that was far too late in coming. Rumor had it that, even this close to NEMA
Headquarters, to Chicago, only 1 in 12 had lasted long enough to be evacuated. Many had died
from lack of water or hunger or hypothermia as the nuclear power stations had gone off-line, one
at a time or in blocks.
Some of the homes had burned down, leaving frost-encrusted, black skeletal structures in their
wake. The fire department had closed down here over a month ago, and no one was yet putting
out any stray fires that started in Green Meadows. In some places whole blacks of buildings had

burned down.
The worst ones were the sites where homes had been sealed up, but later broken into. Some of
them had splashes of blood on the inside. Some had been from demons looking for live prey.
Some had been from far-too-human bandits.
You never realized just how much blood a human body had in it until you saw it splashed
around like in those houses, frozen wherever it had struck, like crimson ice.

Dani and Aaron both scowled as they approached the NEMA station. It had once been the
town's jail, and had been further fortified with whatever could have been scavenged from the
lifeless town.
Inside, the two NEMA operatives found three bodies right off. They had all been torn to shreds
by something in a extremely bad mood. All their pieces looked to be here, so it hadn't been done
by something seeking to eat them.
"Sweet Jesus, Son of God," whispered Dani at the sight of the carnage. The men had died
fighting, and from the looks of things, whatever caved in the front door had chased them all the
way through the front area of the police station, and they had fought for every inch they had lost.
Brass shell casings and the occasional lead or silver round, all deformed by impact with
something with skin as hard as armor plate and vulnerable to neither, rattled about their feet as
they moved. It had to have been a hell of a firefight. Some of the walls had the tell-tale burn
marks from where someone had tried to use lasers as well against whatever had broken into the
place.
"We missed a HELL of a fight," grumbled Aaron, "But I don't see anyone just wounded here.
Everyone is dead."
"I only counted 3 bodies in there. This is supposed to be a 6-man outpost," replied Dani as she
covered the next room with her "Police Special" Laser Pistol.
Aaron raised and eyebrow and said, "How the hell could you tell HOW many bodies were in
all that mess?"
"There were only 3 heads. Until we find 3 more heads, we assume that there are 3 survivors
out there, one of them hurt badly. I'm not leaving until we find them... one way or the other."
Aaron grinned. He had to admire the lady's style, and her conviction.
The two rounded the last corner together and stopped before the ruin of the back door. Where
there had been a steel-alloy door and concrete wall was a gaping hole. There were the bodies of at
least a dozen minor demons here, and what looked to be at least 2 large and powerful ones. They
were in even worse shape than the soldiers in the other room, where the snow hadn't completely
covered them.

They found the door itself outside, bent, twisted, and blackened, lying crookedly on the
ground where charred blast marks reached to the very top of the building, radiating from where
the door was.
Aaron whistled and said, "Booby trap. Some civilian-grade explosives like dynamite, but there
was a lot of C-4 and not a few grenades in the mix. Probably closed the door behind them and set
it to go off when the demons opened it...then..."
"BOOM," said Dani, catching on, "Must have been a big blast to do that kind of damage to so
many of the demons. They've got hides like armor plate."
"Yeah. But the real question is just where the soldiers here went after setting a blast like that to
go off. They sure couldn't stay here to face whatever could survive THAT. Wherever they are,
that's probably where they sent the message for help from. I doubt they had time to while either
the attack was going on or during their retreat. We'll have to see if we can raise them again on the
radio in your hover jeep if we want to get there before the demons either finish what they started
or that one soldiers' wounds finish him off."
Dani nodded and headed back towards the front where they had left her vehicle parked at. This
close to one of the towering Blue Zones, she only hoped they could get a signal through.

*****

1st National Bank of Green Meadows, Green Meadows, Suburb of Chicago Illinois,
February 8th, 2099, 47 Days After the Coming of the Rifts

Sabrina Hazel peered around the corner, then ducked back as a Firethorn Demon spat a ball of
fire at her. Not for the first time, she was grateful for the Gunbuster Power Armor that stood
between her and the demons' attacks. It bore the scars of the prolonged battle back at the police
station where they had been attacked by a horde of the creatures. Although heavily damaged, it
was still working. Bless the NEMA engineers.
Sabrina unhooked the G-44 Magnum Rail Gun from her armor's central spotlight before again
leaning out and firing back. The Firethorn Demon and two Spiked Strangler Demons dove for
cover, but a Heckler Demon that was with them got strafed by the steam of ferrous slugs, it's
spindly, insect-like arms and legs were sent flying off in all directions as it's tough body was
pounded into mush beneath the machine-gun-like hammering of supersonic rounds.
Sabrina ducked back behind the thick wall beside the door as the Firethorn as well as the
Spiked Stranglers tore up huge chunks of masonry and pavement to use as missile weapons. The
plasticrete pavement and masonry hit the wall with enough force to make it shudder under the

impact.
The demons roared with dark laughter as she checked the load on her rail gun, cursing as she
saw that it only had 60 rounds left to it, only enough for 2 more heavy bursts. She still had the
other rail gun on her opposite shoulder, but it was already half-empty as well. She knew she could
save ammo by switching to light bursts, using only 10 rounds at a burst rather than 30, but the
demons seemed to heal so fast that they tended to shrug it off. Once her ammo was gone, they
were going to be in deep trouble.
Sabrina activated her helmet radio with her data-jack in the back of her head and called, "Tim?
How's Sgt. Cassidy doing? Oh, and I could use a bit of a hand here!"
Cpl. Tim Darkmoon replied over his own built-in helmet radio, "The same as when we got into
this bank, Lt. As far as I can tell, he's going to loose both his legs. That explosion just shattered
them. We had our power armor to protect us, but it was too much for his body armor. I've got the
bleeders tied off as best I can, and I've used both the IRMSS Medical Kit and the Robot Medical
Kit on him, but outside of giving him even MORE painkillers, there's not a lot more I can do for
him."
"Then get your shiny metal ass back in here, and bring your Chromium Guardsman Power
Armor with you. I'm nearly out of ammo, and the 'playmates' that followed us here are still
feeling their oats."

Tim sighed and gave his friend's shoulder a gentle pat as he headed for the entrance to the
bank, where he had left Sabrina. The building had been made out of the new plasticrete, with 10
times the strength and durability of old-fashioned concrete, and sported barred doors and
windows. It had been a good fall-back position, scouted out days before, but now they had no
food or water, and no medic. Tommy had been killed by the damned things before they had
managed to get out of the police building, along with Alex and Danny.
Tim nearly stumbled when he heard the voice over his armor's helmet radio, even broken and
filled with static, it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard in his entire life.
"This... 11 Zebra 9, Medical... (squawk) looking for... soldiers who...(crackle) ...assistance...
wounded. We... (popping)... your current location... help you."
"This is Sgt. Tim Darkmoon. We are currently at the 1st National Bank of Green Meadows.
Repeat: the 1st National Bank of Green Meadows. Corner of 8th and Sycamore Streets. We have
enemy activity and require evacuation ASAP! We have 1 wounded and are running low on
ammunition. Can you assist?"
(Pause.) "What direction... in,... Darkmoon? (Crackle) of the... (Snap pop-pop)... station?"
Tim snorted and said, "Listen close. In a second you'll be able to find us, no problem." his
heavy feet splintered and shattered the tiles covering the bank's thick plasticrete floor as he
ploughed to a stop in front of the bank's entrance.

Tim's head-jack relayed the signal as he reached over his shoulder and pulled down the folddown handle to his massive weapon. The power armor's curved toe-hooks deployed, digging
deeply into the plasticrete floor itself, at the same time that the laser-drill pylons in the heel of
each foot burned as they lowered themselves 3 feet into the floor of the building's foundation,
then deployed 3 anchoring hooks each. Without the anchors and toe-hooks, as well as the array of
5 jump-jets on the back of his armor, even as heavy and strong as the Chromium Guardsman was,
it wouldn't be able to fire the massive weapon that the entire armor had been built around. The G10 Electromagnetic Cannon, the so-called "Boom-Gun". At least, not without knocking itself off
of it's feet every time it fired.
Tim used his sensors to find one of the Spiked Strangler Demons as it hid behind a concrete
support beam outside. Although hidden, in these sub-zero temperatures, his body heat seemed to
stick out like a sore thumb. One of the advantages (and there were precious few that humans
retained) they had discovered was that the demons were as confused of technology as humans
were of their 'magic' powers and how those worked. The Spiked Strangler knew he couldn't be
seen where he was by any human eyes, but hadn't a clue that Tim's sensors included infra-vision,
also known as heat-sensing vision. Even through a wall, he was visible to those.
Tim fired the G-10, seeing the concrete pillar shatter as the Spiked Strangler was sent
bouncing across the snow-packed street to crash into an abandoned car. The car crumpled around
it like toilet paper against it's armor-like hide.
Through the armor's sensors, Tim also saw the Boom-Gun's secondary effect; the reason the
weapon had earned it's nickname. The 11-pound sabot round, when exiting the barrel of the
massive weapon at Mach 3, instantly broke the sound barrier, smashing every glass window in the
bank in an ever-widening circle and throwing about small debris as the thundering waves of
sound circled ever outwards. Every window, glass, and windshield for a full block shattered
before the power of the Boom-Gun.

Dani and Aaron's heads turned in unison to the west of the thundering sound, followed by the
sound of thousands of pieces of glass, falling onto the floors and ground.
"Yep, THAT's a signal, all right," said Aaron as he climbed into the hover-jeep's passenger
seat, hefting the laser rifle over one shoulder as he pulled the mini-missile rifle into position.
Screw the salvage.
Dani uttered a prayer of thanks as she started the vehicle and turned it in the direction of
Darkmoon's shot.

Crusher groaned in pain as his supernatural nature worked to begin fixing his wounds. The
damned human had SHOT him, right through one of those strange-looking, funny-stone walls
that were everywhere here.

Crusher groaned again as two of his ribs popped back into position, and one of his lungs began
to re-inflate. It was happening slowly and painfully. That weapon the human had used had really
packed a kick to it.
Didn't these fool humans know that they were prey? That they were supposed to lie down and
die as the demons had their fun with them? And what the hell WAS that weapon that the human
had used? He hadn't been hit THAT hard since Thor had clipped him with his legendary hammer,
Mjollnir.
"What are you waiting for, you idiot?" demanded an outraged voice near where he lay, stuffed
into the side of the automobile, "I thought you Spiked Strangler Demons were supposed to be
TOUGH."
Crusher rolled his head to the side to see the young human that called himself Dexter. Wisps of
his curly red hair had escaped the "Bears" toboggan that the 14-year-old boy wore. He was
heavily bundled against the freezing cold. One hand wore a ski-glove he'd found in the back seat
of an abandoned vehicle, and the other was wrapped, mummy-like, in strips of cloth he had cut
from a curtain from the old Holiday Inn Hotel that he'd been using as a base.
The young human magician's coat was 3 sizes too big, but the two sweaters he wore
underneath it gave him a bit more bulk. The leather belt he wore synched the coat around his
waist, closing it the rest of the way to conserve body heat.
"Hey there, Dexter. Listen, Boss, these guys aren't as easy as those other 3 were at the other
place you led us to. I need a minute here to heal before I can go at them again," croaked Crusher
as his ribs finished re-knitting.
"I want them HURT!" shouted Dexter, hate lacing every word, "They won't take me to where
they hid Mom and Dad. I was the one that called you, and I am the boss here, so get off your
scaly ass and get in there and HURT THEM!"
Crusher bared his sharp teeth in annoyance. Had the child wizard been sane, he should have
been scared. Most great white sharks would be scared by the sight. But he began to bend the car's
body with his bare hands to extract himself. Reinforced metal bent and twisted under the might of
those two clawed hands.

Pompous little shit. Oh, yeah. He'd developed a little magic, all right. The moron just didn't
understand that although he COULD send out a call for demons to come, he couldn't BIND them
to his will. For Spiked Stranglers, they didn't mind letting someone ELSE do the thinking for
them. They considered planning to be 'hard work', and were more than willing to let someone else
handle that and leave the physical part to them.
As for the much-more impressive Firethorn Demon, Crusher hadn't a clue why HE was
obeying the little big-mouth. Probably had plans of his own. Not that he really cared. He'd follow
the Firethorn as easily as this little pain-in-the-butt.

Crusher heard a shrill whistle and turned towards the source of the sound... just in time for a
mini-missile to slam into his chest. Crusher slammed completely though the same car and against
the front of the building behind it, sending cracks radiating out from the point of impact before he
slid down the wall, leaving a trail of dark blood as he died.

His face twisted in hate, Dexter turned to see the hover-jeep coming down the street, with
Aaron sitting on top of the passenger seat, holding the smoking rifle in his hands.
Dexter drew his lips back from his teeth, he reached into his rage and screamed, twisting the
magic that lay there to his intent. Ability and anger combined and manifested as a blue-white
streak of electrical energy streaked out from Dexter's outstretched hand, made from the same stuff
as were the Blue Zones.
Dani cried out in surprise as the electric bolt slammed into the hover-jeep, causing the panel in
front of her to short out with a shower of sparks and smoke. Aaron was dumped into the back
storage space as their vehicle hit the ground, all control lost, it's hover jets shorting out along with
the rest of the electrical system.
"It was the blasted KID!" growled Aaron as he pushed himself upright and over the far side of
the vehicle, "He wasn't being attacked by that thing... he's in LEAGUE with it!"
Dani dropped down to join him, taking cover behind the hover-jeep as she said, her voice
dripping with sarcasm, "REALLY!? You think!?"

Shemp looked up from where he was refilling the fuel tank of the civilian grade "Street
Bruiser" ATV that Savannah had found with a cut gardening hose that wound from it's tank down
into the storage tank in the ground. His ultra-ears zeroed into the unusual explosive sound.
A moment later, Savannah's head popped out of the heated passenger-side window as she
asked, "Hey, did you hear that?"

*****

DAYS OF THE APOCALYPSE (Part 3)

Luckier Nugget Saloon, Main Street, Silver City, New West,

New Mexico Territory (Old American Empire), May 3rd, 105 P.A.

"You see?" said Heather happily, "There they are. They're mentioned again. They didn't die in
the cold and snow."
Ginger rubbed her eyes. It seemed as if everyone in Silver City was hearing of the great storytelling that was going on in the Luckier Nugget and were crowding in to hear a bit of it.
"I hate to be the one to burst your bubble, sister," sighed Ginger, "But they've just popped up
in the middle of what sounds like a war zone."
"I have to admit, Ginger is correct," said Mandrake, "If this Green Meadows place lay to the
south of old Chicago, what is now Chi-Town, then it was considerably close to the Saint Louis
Gate. As I understand it, even then it was a gateway for monsters of all sorts."
"No! No!," fretted Meggy, "They can't die. A girl can tell, there is something between those
two."
Ruffy, even as busy as he was at the bar, couldn't resist saying, "You're looking for romance
during the Great Cataclysm? During what has to be the greatest disaster this planet has ever seen?
Unless Mandrake knows of a greater one?"
Thomas Mandrake smiled. He had lived a full century or more before the Coming of the Rifts
on Earth. His time in an alternate dimension had returned him to an Earth very different than the
one he had left in 1985 BC, roughly 114 years before the story began.
"There has been none in the recorded history as far as I recall, however the personnel at Base
Morrigan are better equipped to answer that question, as they did not suffer the 114 year gap in
between my departure and the beginning of the book."

"What's wrong with looking for romance?" demanded Meggy, "No matter what, people always
fall in love."
Meggy emphasized her point by batting her eyes at Mocha, the Dog-Boy helping Ruffy at the
bar. He grinned back.
"What I find truly disturbing about this account is the Prosek girl, the one named Kathy," said
Martin, "I've never heard of a White Sands Military Base. A lot was lost in the Great Cataclysm,
but you'd think a source of Nuclear Missiles would have been found if it was widely enough
known that this girl would have known where to find it. Not to mention that no one in their right
mind would use any of them."
"Even the Coalition States won't use them," said Bragg from beside Samantha Hazel, "There
were several used in the initial volley in the War on Tolkeen, but the general that used them acted
without permission, hoping to bring the war to a quick close. From what I understand, he was
court martialed and then executed on the spot. You're talking about major-league disturbed to
think about using those."

"During my own time before now on Earth, White Sands was a nuclear and weapons testing
ground. The first atomic weapons were tested there, long before people realized what the longerterm ramifications of them were," said Mandrake.
"What's so funny Alpo?" asked Wolf, noticing that his old partner was grinning under his FuManchu moustache.
Preacher Alpo pulled out the same silver crucifix that he always wore. He let it dangle from
his fingers as he said, "If this Dani Alpo is my ancestor, then I think I might be holding a piece of
history here. This was supposed to have been passed down along my family since before the
Coming of the Rifts. If this story is true, then this is the same silver cross that Dani Alpo said her
prayers over."
There were a few whistles of awe.
Much had been lost during the Great Cataclysm, and the 200 years of dark ages that followed
it. People had forgotten where they had come from, so much that things as simple as a bubblegum wrapper or old book was worth hundreds of credits on the Black Market. People wanted to
know where they came from. Preacher Alpo was indeed holding a piece of history in his hands.
"And let's not forget that I've got the biggest artifact," chuckled Carl Darkmoon, "The one that
Tim is using must be the same one that I've been piloting all these years. Glitter-Boys are handed
down from father to son over the years. Never heard it called a 'Chromium Guardsman' though."
"That's what they call them up at Base Morrigan," said Mjr. Bragg, "Apparently their
nickname has become the name they are now known as."
"I wonder whatever became of the other things the story mentions, like the NEMA Combat
Bike and the 'Street Bruiser.'?" asked Andros Walker
"Who knows?" said Jason with a shrug, "Likely there's remains still floating around in the
equipment that we use today, like the Highwayman Motorcycle and the Big Boss ATV. We know
from Base Morrigan that the Coalition States likely ripped off some of their technology, like the
SAMAS. They haven't figured out how the power armors were equipped with the Glitter-Boy's
laser resistant coating, but they got the basic armor correct."
"Maybe even improved on a thing or two," said Ripper, "I don't recall the book mentioning
that the NEMA SAMAS had any missiles mounted on the arm."
"More like a variation?" asked Rock.
"We could debate this all night," said Mandrake with a laugh, "Or we could just return to the
tale and find out what else it has in store for us. Assuming that the dear Lady Priscilla's voice is
up to the task. We've been rather hard on her hospitality as it is."
Lady Priscilla grinned. She had been taking the opportunity while it lasted to rest her throat

and drink both of the water and wine to soothe her voice.
"I could read for a while, if no one has any objections?" offered Joe Stalker.
When no one raised an objection, Lady Priscilla began to pass the book over to Joe, but he
scooted his chair across the floor to sit right beside Lady Priscilla so that he could read it from
there.
Ruffy grinned and thought to himself, Smooth one, Joe, as he began reading.

Green Meadows, Suburb of Chicago Illinois,

February 8th, 2099, 79 Days After the Coming of the Rifts

The FORD "Pike" they had been driving for the last several days was a civilian-grade knockoff of the NEMA "Street Bruiser" ATV Combat Vehicle. It wasn't nearly as fast or tough as the
original, military design, but it could handle moving through the monumental mounds of graygoop snow with it's oversized, balloon tires which acted like moving snow-shoes for the big
vehicle. Even more importantly for Shemp and Savannah, it had a working heater. With the
vehicle instead of his Combat Bike that was strapped to it's back, they didn't have to stop every
few hours to light a fire or find heat so that Savannah could warm up.
Savannah waved cheerily to him from the cab of the ATV and he shook his head in
amusement. There was just something about that woman. She had a sunny disposition that simply
refused to give in to despair, no matter how grim things looked.
When they had first met, Shemp had been a very unhappy individual. He had lost both of his
arms and legs in an explosion on December the 23rd, when an out of control gasoline truck had
crashed into his hover-cycle. Even as chaotic as things had become after only one day into the
Great Cataclysm, the doctors had given him a choice of trying to live as a paraplegic NEMA
veteran for the rest of his life, with full benefits, or he could keep on serving with a new set of
limbs and other modifications to his body. The new body was very powerful and much more
durable, but his sense of touch was, at best, only half of what it had been. To him it felt as if his
arms and legs were continually on the verge of falling asleep. There was also the depression of
having lost so much of the real him, his original body, and now living as much a machine as he
was a man.
Finding Savannah had been, for him, kin to finding hope again. She positively refused to let
him brood on his problems for long, and helping her try to reach Chicago had been the best
therapy possible for him. She had given him someone to care for as well as care about, which had
kept him from feeling depressed about what he had lost. He had once read a story about a
merchant that had once found a pearl so perfect and beautiful that he had sold every one of his
possessions that he had taken years to acquire just to have that one jewel to keep.

Shemp had always thought it a flaky thing to do, but now he understood that merchant a bit
better. He certainly thought of Savannah as a priceless jewel.
She had become his friend, probably the best one he'd ever had. And she didn't seem to mind
at all that he was half machine, even if his artificial skin hid it well. It also didn't hurt that she was
very attractive, to boot. The fact that he'd been noticing that about her was also giving him
thoughts along lines he had thought closed to him since the operation that had turned him into a
partial conversion cyborg.
Shemp shook his head and concentrated on getting the top back on the abandoned gas station's
underground gas tanks. Without power to run them, the gas pumps were just so much useless
junk. Savannah had shown him a trick, however, where she had made postal deliveries at a
similar location in her native Ohio. She had asked a gas deliveryman she saw almost every
morning how he got the gas into the pumps. As it turned out for them, it had been some very
useful trivia. It had allowed them to travel by refueling the ATV's gas tank at abandoned service
stations like this one.
It had also been Savannah's suggestion that they traveled by back roads and cross-country. All
the main roads had been clogged with far too much congested traffic that was forever stalled. And
one car pile-up after another that would likely never see a wrecker come to straighten it out.
Traveling the way Savannah had suggested had considerably lengthened their trip, but they had
only been able to run over so many cars with the bodies of frozen family members inside before
neither of them had the stomach for it anymore. Shemp pinched off the garden hose that he had
been using for a siphon and let the last of the recovered gas slip into the now-full tank. It was the
only hose that he could find that would reach the full 20 feet into the gas tank to where the fuel
was.
When one traveled the super-highways that had criss-crossed much of this planet before the
Great Cataclysm, one tended to overlook or forget constructions such as bridges, until they were
no longer there. Who would have ever thought that he'd be missing the guys out there with their
orange barrels, working on the roads? They had encountered more than one bridge that had fallen
during the earthquakes and other disasters.
Shemp hurriedly rolled the hose to store it in the back after they heard the shot. It was loud
even blocks away, and rattled the windows in the front of the gas station. It was the unmistakable
bleat of a Boom-Gun in action. Shemp and Savannah exchanged a knowing look before he
scrambled inside and she put the ATV in gear, gunning the engine as it sent them forward to plow
into the snow bank.
Savannah drove while Shemp opened the sun roof and raised himself half-out, up to his waist.
One the military models of the Street Bruiser, they had a weapons turret placed here, but there
wasn't one on the civilian model. Shemp had taken to filling in for it with his own body and the
big PR-470 "Hot Seat" Plasma Rifle. It also served to keep Savannah out of the biting winds.
Shemp's cybernetic body was much less susceptible to the weather than was hers, which was also
why he had been taking on himself the grunt and recon work.

Of course, this also meant she got to do ALL of the cooking, so he considered it a fair trade.
Savannah had come to love getting to drive the big ATV, and had a certain flair for it. She
picked out the best way to go before they reached the obstacles waiting for them. The huge
wheels allowed them to climb right over most obstacles buried in the gray-goop snow, even
wrecked and abandoned vehicles when the need arose, and she used this ability without remorse.
Shemp wondered if he'd get used to viewing the world like this. Barely a month ago, this had
been a bustling city, all bedecked for Christmas in a few days, filled with people with dreams.
Now it was little more than a Necropolis, a city of the dead. A world slowly being buried under
layer after layer of gray snow.
Some day an archeologist was going to find all this, all the Christmas decorations, and wonder
not only just what the hell happened, but what the hell everyone had been thinking.

Ahead, Shemp suddenly spotted a downed hover-jeep with 2 people in NEMA armor
crouching down behind it in the road ahead. To his surprise, a kid stepped around the corner of a
building and pointed at them with his open hand.
A bolt of what looked to be lightning flew from his hand and struck against the side of the
hover-jeep with enough force to rock it in place.
"Jesus, what WAS that? He's got them pinned down," shouted Savannah.
"Not for long," grunted Shemp as he aimed his Plasma Rifle. His right, cybernetic, eye
superimposed cross-hairs over where the barrel of his weapon pointed, making it visible over his
normal vision. He centered them on the boy as he threw another bolt of lightning at the hoverjeep, splitting it's side wide open as it's seats began to catch on fire.

Shemp's bolt of fiery plasma struck the boy in his left side, instantly turning him into a
screaming torch for a few seconds before his body he fell, turning into just so much more ash in
the snow. The ashes glowed red here and there where his tougher bones took a bit longer to burn
away into ash.
Aaron and Dani looked towards the unexpected source of help as the Street Bruiser rolled to a
stop beside their damaged hover-jeep.
"Are you all right?" asked Savannah from out of her window. Dani's reply was cut shot by the
sound of another shot from Tim's Boom-Gun.
They all watched as another demon rolled across the street. From how limp it was, they
supposed he was dead, but Shemp shot him once more, just to make sure he wasn't going to be
getting up again. The demons had quite a reputation for doing just that with the way they were
able to regenerate. Spiked Stranglers were nasty beasts that way.

"WE'RE okay, but the fight is THAT way," said Dani as she jerked her thumb towards the
source of the noise.
Savannah opened the doors and said, "Well, come on, then! Your ride is trashed."
It took Dani only a moment to grab her bulky medical bag from the smoldering vehicle and
hop in the back of the Street Bruiser. Aaron joined Shemp, sticking out of the skylight of the big
vehicle before Savannah had them moving again, quickly gaining speed.

*****

The two armored soldiers holed up inside the bank had their hands full, already being critically
low on ammo. Their remaining opponent was obviously the toughest yet, having fed the other
demons to them as cannon fodder, to use up that ammo and to soften them up for his assault. This
demon was smart, which made him dangerous.
The Skull Stealer Demon was one of the greater of the day demons, as they were classified
now. Day demons being at their peak powers during the hours of dim daylight and weakened at
night-time. Although it was one of the more 'humanoid' of the demons, there was no mistaking it
for other than what it was in it's true form.
What appeared to be tattoos on it's heavily muscled arms turned into VERY real snakes as they
appeared to leap off of its forearms. Ram-like horns protruded from its forehead over amberyellow eyes, slit sideways like that of a goat. Flaming red hair in the shape of an Afro topped its
head and was the same shade as it's crimson claws and teeth.
From a tool belt that it had acquired somewhere hung the skulls and spines of 4 of its latest
human victims. One of them was so fresh that the blood still coated both the skull and spine,
frozen drops like rubies dotting it. The habit of collecting the skulls of its victims seemed to be a
universal compulsion or status symbol among it's kind, which earned it its name.
One of its arms hung useless at the Skull Stealer Demon's side, where it had been hit and
broken by Tim Darkmoon's Boom-Gun. Already the wound was knitting itself back together as
the demon ignored the hideous wound and threw another spell at the exposed Chromium
Guardsman. A ball of flame washed across Tim's chest and torso, scoring the tough armor deeply,
but failing to penetrate the thick armor there.
Sabrina Hazel leaned out and fired another burst from her Magnum Rail Gun, cursing as the
bolt stuck backwards, indicating that the weapon was now empty of all ammo. She ducked
quickly again behind the door and drew her only backup weapon that she could use while in her
Gunbuster Power Armor; the NEMA GLR-540 "Thunder" Grenade Launcher. The weapon had a
full load in it, but created considerable secondary damage, which they were supposed to avoid
until this town's resources could be salvaged for the survivors at Chicago. At this point, however,
she wasn't about to start talking half-measures.

Tim's ammo drum had run dry and he had been forced to loading each shot, manually, one at a
time, before firing his weapon. Tim aimed his weapon and fired again, knocking the Skull Stealer
back several feet as it braced it's feet and tore gouges in the concrete to prevent itself from being
knocked off of it's feet.
Sabrina used the distraction to again duck out and fire her grenade launcher while Tim
hurriedly reloaded the Boom Gun again. The grenade exploded right at the Skull Stealer's feet,
making it roar, but doing far less damage to the tough demon.
Sabrina's eyes widened as she saw that the demon was also struck by a fiery bolt of plasma
one instant later. The second attack seemed to surprise the demon as well, and it was knocked off
its feet as it spun, a moment later, as a mini-missile slammed into it's side.
The muscular demon scrambled to its feet on bleeding hands, snarling in rage at the
unexpected reinforcements as the Street Bruiser containing Aaron, Dani, Savannah, and Shemp
lurched into view through the thick snow.
The demon howled as it knew it couldn't defeat them now with these new reinforcements. It
pulled at the magic inside the ley line and simply vanished with a puff of smoke that smelled like
brimstone.
Sabrina sighed in both relief and frustration. With the new help, they could have finished the
demon so that it was no further threat to anyone, but at least it's assault was over for now. It
would need time to heal those wounds. Too many of the fiends were able to pull that same
vanishing stunt that the Skull Stealer Demon had just used. It was a stunt that gave the demons a
huge tactical advantage.
Savannah pulled the Street Bruiser ATV right up to the steps of the bank where Dani dashed
out of the cab of the vehicle with her paramedic's bag slung over her shoulder.

"Jesus, are we ever glad to see you," said Sabrina as she motioned to Dani and led her quickly
inside the bank and back to the vault where Harry Cassidy still lay, bleeding on millions of paper
credits.
"Could one of you guys give me a hand with loading the other ammo canister?" asked Tim,
"We ran lower on ammo than we thought. I've only used 5 shells out of the other one."
"Glad we could lend a hand," said Savannah with a friendly wave as both Shemp and Aaron
went to help Tim reload his weapon. As she climbed out of the ATV she saw that Shemp and
Aaron were giving each other high-5s as they loaded the equipment. They were apparently very
proud of their marksmanship with the demon.
As soon as Tim was reloaded, Aaron said, "Got an idea. There's more ordinance back in the
hover-jeep we had to abandon. We could go get it and pile it in the back of the Street Bruiser. No
way is the hover-jeep moving again with its electrical system shot."

"Good idea. The more weapons and ammo we've got, the better our chances of getting back
through to NEMA Headquarters," said Shemp as he reloaded his mini-missile rifle, "Savannah?
Could you stay here with the big shiny fella and keep this place secure until we get back."
Savannah smirked with her hands on her hips. She knew full well that Shemp didn't want her
risking herself, but he was a sweetie for making it sound like she was helping out something as
big and powerful as a Chromium Guardsman. She nodded, knowing that they would likely need
those weapons and armor before the day was out.
Shemp glanced back before they rounded the corner and saw Savannah, standing beside Tim,
her NEMA Laser Rifle looking far too small beside the infamous Boom-Gun.

Two hours later Dani pulled out an office chair, swept a few thousand credits in paper bills
onto the floor from the desk, and sat down wearily, propping her feet up on top of the desk as she
began stripping off the bloodied rubber gloves.
The others waited patiently as she tossed them in the wast basket beside the desk before
addressing them to give them an assessment of Harry's condition.
"He's going to live, but I had to amputate his legs with my laser scalpel. The explosion crushed
bones in both his legs. They were beyond saving out here as gangrene had set in already and had
set up shop in both his feet."
"GANGRENE?" asked Sabrina in disbelief, "No one's died of gangrene in decades!"
"If we had immediate access to an advanced medical facility with a full array of services, it
wouldn't be a problem. But out here, on the front, we don't have the facilities nor the doctor. Just
me. He wouldn't have lasted until we got back to Headquarters. Gangrene spreads to the blood
and he could have lost a LOT more than his legs," said Dani.
"Listen to her. She knows what she's talking about," said Shemp are he unconsciously rubbed
at one of his cybernetic arms, "The world has changed and we don't have all the equipment we
need when we need it. We have to make do."
"Look, the long and short of it is that the sooner we get Harry to a NEMA medical center in
Chicago, the better off he's going to be. At least there they can fit him with a pair of cybernetic
legs with any luck," said Dani as she began packing her paramedic's kit.
"There's a hover-car outside we can scavenge to work," offered Tim, "I can take the power
cells from the hover-jeep and get it working again. The jeep's electrical system is fried, but the
power source should still be intact. Give me an hour and we should be able to get moving again."
Sabrina hefted her grenade launcher and said, "Get busy Tim. You've got your hour, then we
move out. Anything bothers you in that time, and it's going to wish it hadn't."
Savannah couldn't wait. With a Blue Zone so near, this place was far too dangerous to try to

secure without a lot more men on the job.

NEMA Headquarters, Chicago, Illinois, February 15th, 2099,

86 Days After the Coming of the Rifts

"Big" Wade Adams strode through the hallways of NEMA Headquarters for Midwest
Operations, possibly the only NEMA office left in the entire North American Continent by now.
He was enjoying the feeling of freedom from being outside of his Roscoe Power Armor for the
first time in days.
Raven walked close beside him. In the weeks that she had been on his team, they had become
close friends. Raven had proven herself to be invaluable to have on missions, not for her crashcourse in fire fighting and rescue operations, but in her capacity as a Demon and Witch Hunter on
the sly.
Not that they had shared THAT little tidbit of information with the higher-ups. NEMA took a
dim view of civilians trying to hunt the monsters that had put them into retreat to this last outpost
of humanity and the way of life that they had lived before the Great Cataclysm.
Luckily, with the mass migrations and the disasters that destroyed records, there were many
refugees without so much as a library cards to prove who they said they were. With Wade
vouching for her, Raven was just another fire-fighter among hundreds. In fact, with the records
that Wade had paid to have forged on the computer records by a friend, her credentials were better
than most.
"Any idea why we've been called to this special meeting?" asked Raven as she flipped a strand
of her long, black hair out of her eyes.
"Your guess is as good as mine," said Big Wade with a shrug of his wide shoulders, "With
everything that's been happening around here, it could be almost anything."
"I hope it's another demon that we're going after," said Raven with a feral grin.
Wade rolled his eyes and shook his head. He would quite happily agree to never see another of
those things again, but Raven still carried a burning hatred for them in her gut. For him, it was all
about saving people. If that meant fighting off demons to get that done, then he'd do it. But he
didn't have the flair for it that Raven did, which was why he was glad to have her at his side.
That, and she was awfully easy on the eyes.

*****

The conference room that Wade and Raven entered already had several people waiting in
chairs when they arrived. This alone told them that this was going to be a different kind of
mission than they were used to. With NEMA forces stretched so thin, it was unusual for more
than a few specialists to be assigned to a specific objective. More often, the specialists were
assigned a squad or two of volunteers to lead. Something was up. Something BIG.
Raven watched with interest as Big Wade approached another man wearing a fire fighter's
uniform and clasped hands with him firmly.
"Carl Mandrake! Good to see another Roscoe here, whatever we're doing here today," said
Wade.
Carl was nowhere near as tall as Wade, but was still taller than Raven at an inch over 6 feet.
He had broad shoulders and a physique that spoke of many hours spent in the gym in regular
exercise.
Raven hid her grin as she thought, No doubt about it. There's just something about firemen
that just makes me HOT.
"Not as well as we think. Just think about it, Wade. As spread out as everyone is, it must be
something big if they need TWO Roscoe firemen in on it."

Wade had to admit, Carl had a point. NEMA was being VERY careful of what resources it had
left. They were very limited and some of it couldn't be replaced, like highly trained soldiers and
firemen. But still, a resource was useless unless you used it.
Raven cleared her throat, prompting Wade to say, "Oh. This is Raven. Fellow fire fighter. She
works on my team, Carl. Raven, this is Carl Mandrake. He used to be regional director of training
back in Atlanta."
Carl exchanged a handshake with Raven, and she noticed him giving her a look that sized her
up... and he seemed to like what he saw.
Raven thought, the nerve. Never mind that she had done the same thing. But THAT was
different. GIRLS were allowed to oogle guys. Everyone knew that.

Everyone turned as the door opened again. None of them had been expecting the officer to
brief them to be none other than Lt. General Linsey Sawyer herself. The head of NEMA forces
from Atlanta and now in what was left of the United States.
"Everyone please be seated," said Sawyer as she walked to the podium and turned to call row.
Raven noticed that Carl Mandrake's eyes followed her the same way a wolf would follow a deer
walking across a forest glade. Whatever else Carl was, he was a womanizer.

"Mission Specialist: Keith Walker.

"Para-Arcane Specialist: Riana Creed.
"Law Enforcement Officer: Matt Green.
"Robot/Power Armor Specialists: Andy Luke, Sabrina Hazel, and Tim Darkmoon.
"Demolitions Expert: Harry Cassidy.
"Fire and Rescue Specialists: Carl Mandrake, Wade Adams, and Raven Jones.
"Heavy Weapons Expert: Aaron Willington.
"Medical Paramedic: Dani Alpo.
"Wilderness Survival Experts: Shemp Fine and Savannah Gallant," said Sawyer, checking off
her list as she went. 14 names in all.
Savannah and Shemp exchanged bemused looks, wondering just when THEY had become
'experts' on wilderness survival.

Sawyer finished the roll call and put away the clipboard she had been using and said, "Glad to
see that everyone made it. We lose too many people out there every day. First of all, let me say
how proud I am that you could all be here in Chicago with me. In one way or another, each and
every one of you have distinguished yourselves in service. As you're all aware, our satellite
communications' difficulties have been a nightmare. Since the Great Cataclysm, we've only had
spots where ANY communications with anything in orbit is possible, and those are coming less
and less frequently. In short, they are completely unreliable.
"We did, however, just 6 hours ago, receive an urgent message from one of our more remote
NEMA bases. This message was relayed though a satellite's buffer memory, so we have no idea
when it was sent originally, but a spot opened in the cloud cover just long enough for a
communications burst to be sent through, and this was one of the messages on it. The message
itself only managed to get through to the satellite because it was relayed by an outer-orbit aircraft
before it was lost to forces unknown just out of the atmosphere.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the crew of that plane went up KNOWING that they would never
land. Something strange is going on up there, just out of our atmosphere, and no aircraft that goes
up ever comes back down. This message was THAT urgent."

To say that Lt. General Sawyer had their complete attention would be an understatement.
Everyone knew the reason that NEMA had pulled back to Chicago was that this was one of the
few areas that they could keep reasonably secure. It was taking ALL of their resources here in
Chicago to do just that in the face of so many back-to-back disasters, of which the Demon Plague

was the most recent.

"There is an old, United States military complex at an area known as White Sands, New
Mexico, and the emergency message we received concerns it. As some of you might already be
aware, White Sands has long been a site for munitions testing for the United States military. This
includes nuclear weapons testing. What many of you do NOT know is that when the United
States' armed forces' nuclear arsenal became obsolete the government decided to use the alreadyexisting facilities at that base to mothball the obsolete nuclear missiles. Although the missiles and
their warheads were dismantled, they are still quite viable. The desert's low humidity and lack of
rainfall, coupled with the facility's underground storage, means for an almost negligible corrosion
rate. In short, those missiles are still as deadly today as they were when they were put in there.
Don't mistake them. They aren't nearly as sophisticated as the Nuclear 'Shining Marbles' that
replaced them, but they're still deadly. Mind-boggling so.
"The only place we have anything better is with the Shining Marbles and Long-Range energy
weapons platforms in orbit. On Earth, now that those are out of our reach, White Sands is
probably the largest, deadliest concentration of weapons.
"Unfortunately, someone has found out that tidbit of Top Secret information, somehow. And
they have decided to act upon it."
Big Wade shifted uneasily in his seat. Someone had control of the old nuclear missile arsenal?
It was a disaster right out of one of those old James Bond spy thrillers.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I don't need to tell you that NO ONE outside of this room, right now,
is to have access to that information. From the report that we received, the leader of the terrorist
forces has seized control of the installation at White Sands, and is some kind of radical with a
pathological hatred of the demons we've been battling against. So much so that she is actually
planning to re-assemble the old nuclear missiles that are housed there to use in tactical strikes
against the demons... ON AMERICAN SOIL."

Wade and Raven exchanged horrified looks. Even for the demon-hating Raven, using nukes
was a pretty damned hardcore idea.
"I don't think I need to tell any of you how little we can afford another wide-spread disaster
like nuclear fallout along with the other disasters we've managed to survive thus far. Especially
with a fanatic taking pop-shots with things as dangerous as outdated nukes. We have to stop these
nut-cases before they decided to drop a 50-megaton fireball in the middle of Chicago, or on one
of the nearby suburbs. The civilian losses alone could very well finish us here, even from a single
one dropped only 75 to 100 miles from here, and as most of us know, the Saint Louis Arch, one of
the hottest-contested demon-controlled zones, fits that bill quite nicely.
"I know a long, overland journey is very dangerous at this time, so I'm asking for volunteers,
people. You all come with recommendations as some of our very best people, and our most
capable. We have to shut the terrorists down, NOW. One way or the other. And we have to make

sure that this never happens again."

Shemp and Savannah looked to each other, clasping hands for moral support as they stood
together. Everyone else joined them.

Savannah looked to Shemp and said, "I understand now why they wanted US on this mission,
but, all things being equal, I'd rather be back in Cleveland."
Shemp grinned and whispered back, "Amen to that."
Neither of them were going to back out, however. Where one went, the other was along for the
ride. In the frozen wastelands the two had forged a mutual bond of friendship, and perhaps more.

*****

White Sands Military Base, New Mexico, February 15th, 2099,

86 Days After the Coming of the Rifts

Kathy Prosek studied the encryption code-breaker as it ran on the computer in front of her. 6
more hours and it would be able to start giving them the codes they needed to launch some of the
missiles that her boyfriend, Tristan Bond, and his work crew were assembling with the scientists
that were working under armed guard.
Kathy looked across the room to where her old teacher, Robert Jones, was researching among
piles of books on religion, mysticism, witchcraft, and sorcery that her group, The Soldiers of God,
had taken from a dozen libraries during their long trip from Illinois to New Mexico. He was
comparing his own notes to the maps and data that had been downloaded to White Sands Military
Base just before communications with their satellites had been cut off by the disasters.
Mr. Jones would be determining the best targets for her to launch the nuclear missiles at first.
With luck, they would be ready to launch the first salvo of 30 mismatched nukes by this time
tomorrow. Assuming that Tristan kept his men working around the clock. They would have to
wait to assemble more after, but after they had all the encryptions, she would have all of the
missiles eventually.
And the demons would pay.
Besides, this was a blast!
All the beautiful nuclear fires dancing to her tune. That appealed to her.

And it was SO nice of the military to mothball all the manuals for reassembling the missiles
next to the storage space for the missiles themselves. Idiots.

The technicians she had pressed into her service were working their fingers to the bone to
meet her deadline. After she had gutted the most vocal dissenter in front of the others, they had
only been too eager to get to work. Ah, there was nothing like fear to motivate such total geeks.
It was past time to cleanse her world of this demon plague, and do it with the beautiful nuclear
fire. Time to avenge herself on the monsters that had taken away her family and friends.
And the BURNING! It would be like nothing else ever seen before. EVER! Not even the serial
killers of yesterday, or even Hitler, would be able to match the carnage SHE planned to unleash.
Not that she planned to EVER divulge the last reason for their actions to her followers. They
might get ideas of leaving, and she couldn't have that. Oh, no.
She wasn't done with them. Not quite yet, anyway.
Let them think only of revenge. They had all lost everything else in the Great Cataclysm and
wanted something to pay for that. She, as their glorious leader, would take all the glory.
She deserved it.

Tristan Bond decided he liked this new toy a LOT better than the old construction robot that he
had used on the job, driving it for his dad's construction company back in Illinois.
The Mastiff Robot was the 2nd biggest, man-powered vehicle that NEMA had ever produced,
and moving about the various parts to the nuclear missiles was child's play in his new toy.
Besides, it made Kathy hot.
The technicians waited while he used the Mastiff's giant, oversized hands to position the
nuclear warhead on top of the re-assembled fuselage of the old Triton missile. It had been a
dinosaur even before the Great Cataclysm, when the world as he knew it had turned into crap, but
danged if it wasn't still usable. Even if it was one of the older ones stored here, and originally
having been designed to launch from the belly of a submarine rather than from land, it was
pressed into service just like the others. Nothing that was workable would be spared from going
into service one last time, finally being put to the use they had been built for. And there were
hundreds and hundreds of them still waiting.
The demons were going to learn what it meant to mess with the guys holding the REALLY big
guns. Even the super-tough ones could be brought down in an instant with THIS kind of
firepower.
And that REALLY turned Kathy on!

Tristan let the Mastiff hold the warhead in place and waited until the technicians began
wielding and bolting it in place before letting go. As they began closing their wields, he went to
get the next fuselage to get started on. He felt in the mood to try putting together one of those
Poseidon missiles next. This was a LOT more fun than putting up some old dreary mall just like
all the others any day of the week.

Wilma Dunscon looked up from her computer screen and rubbed tiredly at her eyes. It was
another of those damned migraines again. They had been getting worse and more frequent as of
late.
Wilma looked around to make sure that no one was in the lab with her save for the precious
books on the occult. The bottle of aspirin was at the far edge of the room.
Wilma closed her eyes and envisioned the incantation as she muttered the words to it under her
breath. It was getting easier and easier to memorize the spell that she had found, written in Latin,
with practice.
Wilma opened her eyes and gestured at the bottle as she chanted. The feeling was quickly
becoming more comfortable as she felt the energy flow through her, from deep inside her very
core. The bottle sailed across the room to land in her hand.
She smiled and put it down near her. She didn't even need the aspirin now. Still smiling, she
began to look up another spell from the book in front of her.
Wouldn't Kathy be surprised when she showed her that it wasn't only the demons who could
master that blue energy of the Blue Zones? If she could find the right spells, and teach them to
enough of her followers, the 'Mob' as she called them, even though the survivalist nuts insisted on
calling themselves the 'Soldiers of God', then Kathy wouldn't even need those rusty old nukes.
They could fight the demons on their OWN turns. She was fairly sure that there was a spell in
here that could bind a demon to her will, but she wasn't just ready to try that one yet.

NEMA Headquarters, Chicago, Illinois, February 15th, 2099,

86 Days After the Coming of the Rifts

Riana Creed and Keith Walker were doing last-minute checks on their equipment and cargo as
Tim and Samantha loaded the NEMA MX-422 Armored Personnel Carrier.
Riana was one of NEMA's newest innovations, a member of a specialist group called the
'Para-Arcane'. NEMA had drawn them from their once diverse occupations such as librarians,
R.P.G. designers/players, comic book store owners, and teachers with a speciality in the field of
paranormal research and self-proclaimed mediums and psychics as well as a few new-age

mystics.
Once it had become clear that the demon hordes were using what could only be called 'magic'
or 'psychic' abilities to such devastating effect on their troops, NEMA had called in the civilians
from whatever walks of life to serve as their 'experts' in these areas. Lord help them.
Many of the people that had been thrust into this role were full of crap. But Riana had
distinguished herself by being the person whom had figured out that the demons had been using
magical teleportation along the Blue Zones, especially the 'lines', to constantly slip behind
NEMA's hard-won perimeters. That bit of deductive reasoning alone had saved hundreds of lives
and allowed them to set perimeters outside of the Blue Zone links that were, at least, defendable
against the demons.
That same fact had marked her as one of the Para-Arcane's most original thinkers, someone
able to 'think outside of the box'. The companions could well have need of her intellect and
insight during the journey ahead.
"So, Miss Creed," said Keith Walker, "What was it that you did for a living before these Blue
Zones popped up all over the place?"
Riana pushed her thick glasses up on her nose. She wished she could still get the disposable
contact lenses that she was used to wearing in their stead, but glasses were easier to make now,
and the firm that had manufactured the contact lenses before had been located in New York City.
The last they had heard, only the tallest of the building there could still be seen above the ocean
that had flooded it before freezing, and then it was only the upper floors.
"I was in advertising. Research division. But my real passion was in science fiction and
fantasy. I was published three times in a few magazines. That's how I got into the Para-Arcane
division," said Riana, "They need anyone who knows anything about all this mystical stuff these
demons seem to be using."
"Do you really think that stuff they're using is MAGIC?" asked Keith as he checked one of the
puncture-proof, modern composite tires on the driver's side. The MX-422 had 8 of them.
"Throwing balls of fire, lightning, and blasts of icy cold? Vanishing in puffs of smoke to
reappear behind our lines? If it isn't magic, then it's close enough to make no difference," she
replied with a shrug.

Shemp passed the two, carrying Savannah's equipment as well as his own gear for her. She
followed behind him, tugging worriedly at the collar of the new suit of NEMA Standard Body
Armor that she had been assigned. It fit her too tightly for comfort. Not that she couldn't deny that
it offered more protection than her old riot gear.
"I still feel like a can of tomatoes in this thing," Savannah grumbled, "I don't know why WE
got sent on this mission."

"Because we have more experience than anyone else here in Chicago as to what it's like out
there, especially the dangers found while traveling long distances while cut off from support
through demon-occupied territory. Admit it, pretty lady, we're the closest NEMA has to expert
scouts," said Shemp with a grin as he began to stow Savannah's equipment for her.
Savannah raised and eyebrow and asked, "Pretty Lady?"
Shemp didn't lose the grin as he replied, "I just call them like I see them."
Savannah sighed, hands on her hips, and said, "Do you have any idea how old I am, Shemp?"
"I'll have you know that I NEVER ask a lady her age. That kind of thing could get you hurt,"
he said as he began stowing his own gear in the locker beside hers, "Besides, I didn't say that you
were a YOUNG lady, just that you're a PRETTY one. And that you are, Savannah."
Savannah snorted and said, "Yeah, right. if you thought I was so pretty, why didn't you try
something during the entire month that we were alone out there?"
"There's 3 reasons," said Shemp as he locked the locker and turned to count them off on his
fingers, "One: yes, you ARE pretty, but you're also a LADY. One who had lost her husband not
long before.
"Two: I didn't want you to think that I was trying to pressure you into something, like you
OWED me something. I respect ladies like you too much.
"Three: it's kind of hard to tell someone that you're thinking of them romantically while you're
freezing your collective asses off."

Savannah giggled. The last had certainly been true enough. If it hadn't been for Shemp's
cybernetic state, she knew she wouldn't have survived by herself out there, especially if she had
tried it alone. She couldn't even have survived the hypothermia when they first met.
She saw that Shemp had re-opened the locker, but was only re-shuffling about the equipment
he'd already stored in there. He was trying to stall in hopes of getting a clue as to whether or not
she was interested in him as well. She knew from their time together that Shemp didn't take
chances without reason. Yet he had just put his heart right out there, risking being hurt by the one
person that was closest to him. He obviously thought it was worth the risk.
How did she feel about him? Certainly he was her friend. She had noticed that he hadn't been
nearly as depressed about being a cyborg since they had met. It occurred to her that perhaps it
was because of her that he was feeling more of a connection with humanity. His humanity.
Savannah laid her hand on his shoulder and said, "Shemp, you know that I haven't a clue how
much time we'd have together. I AM older than you. I don't know how much time I'd have left."
"Who does, these days?" asked Shemp, "Or ever? I could get killed out there in a day or two.
Or you could. Any of us could. I don't know, Savannah, but what I DO know is that I want a

chance to be a closer part of your life. For however long it is."

Savannah sighed, not sure of where this was going to go, but managed to say, "Point taken.
But I expect you to stick around for a while. You have a bad habit of being a bit reckless."
Shemp grinned and said, "I had to figure out some way to get a pretty lady to notice me. But
seriously, I can take that kind of punishment, Savannah. YOU cannot. That why I put myself in
the line of fire, between the demons and normal people. Especially the ones I care about."
Savannah surprised him by kissing him lightly on the lips and saying, "Shemp, YOU are
'normal people'. Having artificial arms and legs doesn't change that. You CARE about people, and
I simply CANNOT imagine anything more 'human' than that."
Shemp smiled, but they moved apart as more of the mission crew arrived with their own
equipment to store in the lockers.
The smile that Savannah gave him held the promise of them talking more on this subject later.
He couldn't wait.

*****

DAYS OF THE APOCALYPSE (Part 4)

Luckier Nugget Saloon, Main Street, Silver City, New West,

New Mexico Territory (Old American Empire), May 3rd, 105 P.A.

Lady Priscilla just knew there were going to be groans when she stopped reading to rest and
refresh her voice which had started to become just a bit hoarse. She wasn't disappointed.
It was Ruffy that came to the rescue as he announced, "Come on, Folks. This is a chance to get
fresh drinks."
That seemed to satisfy many of the dissenters as they realized that their drinks had somehow
become precariously low in spite of the best efforts of Ginger, Heather and Meggy to keep them
full. Ginger was happy that they were drinking a lot, period. She had those dollar signs dancing in
her eyes again.
"You see? Savannah and Shemp made it to Chicago after all," Heather said dreamily.
"AND they're going right back out into danger again," pointed out Meggy.

The two sisters both agreed that the story parts about Savannah and Shemp were terribly
romantic. It was just that Heather believed in happily ever after while Meggy preferred to hear
tragic romance stories.
As much as Ginger hated to admit it, she was really interested in hearing which this one was
going to turn out to be. She was personally hoping for a happy ending. She loved it when people
wound up with someone they loved.
"I noticed that you got real quiet there, Thom," jibed Preacher Alpo.
Thom Mandrake smiled where he sat with both Gravedigger and Squat.
"I noticed that the story mentioned that my own counterpart was a bit of a womanizer.
Considering my own proud association with not one, but two beautiful ladies, I thought it best if I
kept my opinion to myself, even if he is a nephew, many times removed."
Gravedigger and Squat giggled and hugged one of his arms each. Not many really understood
Mandrake's 3-way relationship with the two women, but they certainly all seemed happy with it,
so everyone tended to just go along with it. Not that tongues didn't wag, of course, when he or his
friends were out of ear-shot.
Far from being chastised by the whispers, the trio had adopted an attitude that if they had it,
they were going to FLAUNT it. They were quite flagrant about it, although they were always
polite, just to tick off the nay-sayers just a bit more. None of them were making any apologies for
being who they were.
"Actually, I find this all fascinating," said PFC Doug Jones, "I've always wondered what it
must have been like for everyone that wasn't in cryogenic freeze when the Great Cataclysm
happened."

Doug had a right to wonder. He and 19 others at Base Morrigan had been alive and active just
days prior to December 22nd, 2098. Any family or friends that they had outside of their own 19
had perished over 200 years prior to their awakening. Not that all of the personnel at Base
Morrigan had survived 200 years of frozen sleep. In fact, the 20 that HAD survived were in the
vast minority. There had been 400 soldiers from NEMA sequestered at Base Morrigan, scheduled
for only a 2-month sleep, which was their tour of duty in suspended animation. As a safety
precaution, the cryogenic pods had been tested for up to a 5-year stint. No one had even thought
to test it for longer, as they were only to be in the pods for a total of 2 months, or up to 6 months
with a fail-safe.
Until the seismic activity had leveled the top floor of the base and shorted half the computers,
including those with the fail-safe. According to tests they had done after awakening, it had been
volcanic activity that had leveled the top of the base, but it had been a near-miss by a nuclear
warhead that had shorted their computers with a massive EMP, or electro-magnetic pulse. Where
the missiles had come from had always been a mystery, but this story promised to possibly shed

some light on that.

"I'd like a copy of this book to take back to Base Morrigan to show the others. I know they
must have wondered about it, too," said Doug.
Tamara hugged him, bringing a grin back to his face. Tamara and Doug were another of the
stranger couples to be found in Silver City, with her being a Kill Cat with a recessive gene that
made her appear almost human, and he a human over 200 years old. Still, they were happy
together, so they also got the same treatment that Mandrake, Gravedigger, and Squat enjoyed.
"We might just have something better," said Joe proudly as he picked up his ever-present tape
recorder and took out the tape inside in order to put a fresh one in.
Lady Priscilla choked on her wine, spewing it out over the table in a very un-lady-like fashion.
Ginger and Ruffy both had to slap her back until she had cleared the wine out of her lungs.
In a horse voice, Lady Priscilla demanded, "Tell me that you are NOT recording me reading!"

Joe Stalker had the decency to blush, but shrugged and said, "I can't. I make it a policy never
to lie to the boss lady. But what's the problem? You have a WONDERFUL voice, and you're a
natural story-teller. Between the two of us we've already covered more than half the book."
"That isn't the point," sighed Lady Priscilla, "I HATE public speaking. I never let myself be
recorded."
"At least not alone?" asked Mandrake as he held out his hand to Lady Priscilla, "Since we're
all listening to the exploits of our descendants, it would only be fair if we assisted with this task.
Joe and you have already shouldered the lion's share of the work for us."
Joe Stalker liked the idea. The story ready by the actual descendants of the characters in the
book. He began wondering if perhaps the paper should look into doing novels on CD. Seeing as
how at least half of the population in Silver City was still illiterate, even with the school system
they had set up, the potential for capital gains were quite real. He made a note on his note pad to
check into it with Lady Priscilla, then noticed that Ginger was hurriedly scribbling the same idea
into hers. She never missed a chance to turn a few credits for the heroes. Which was why she was
the treasurer for the group and several of the businesses in Silver City.
Lady Priscilla and Martin had known that Mandrake had a good speaking voice, but he
actually astounded them when he began to read. None of them had guessed that he was actually a
natural story-teller.
Everyone except Lee Mandrake, his younger brother. He sat back and listened to the voice of
the older brother that he remembered that used to read him stories tirelessly for bedtime. It was a
piece of his childhood that he always cherished. In part, it was those stories that he would spin

every night that had kindled an interest in becoming more than just another face at a desk for Lee,
and had inspired him in the footsteps of adventuring archeologists like Alan Quartermain and
Indiana Jones.
He rest of the crowd in the Luckier Nugget Saloon grew quiet as he read.

NEMA Headquarters, Chicago, Illinois, February 15th, 2099,

86 Days After the Coming of the Rifts

Andy Luke and Matt Green arrived together, Matt wearing his own new NEMA Standard
Body Armor. Andy was wearing his NEMA Silver Eagle SAMAS, which he intended to be
spending most of his time outside of the Chicago area in when on duty. The reason was simple; it
was the second toughest power armor that NEMA made, and it was heavily armed with it's rail
gun.
Although the two men were from completely different backgrounds, there was one glue that
bound their friendship together: they were both cops, members of NEMA's law-enforcement
division before the Great Cataclysm. Even with a more 'blended' NEMA now, they were still at
their core cops, and always would be. Even if one had been a ground-pounder and the other an
elite pilot.
"Can you believe it?" asked Matt, "With everything that's been going on these last 3 months,
the command guys STILL want to observe the formalities. They want the two of us on this
mission so that we can formally ARREST those morons that hijacked a nuclear base." He shook
his head in disbelief of the statement.
"Stupid, all right. but what I want to know is, if there ARE a couple hundred of these wack-o
terrorists, and we DO arrest them, how the hell are we going to get them all back to Chicago to
face trial and sentencing? It's not like we've got a working train station or highway and a convoy
of trucks or buses anymore," said Andy.
Tim Darkmoon arrived in his Chromium Guardsman Power Armor, flanking Sabrina in her
Gunbuster Power Armor. They positioned them in the storage racks for transport before triggering
the release that let the armors unfold about them like a flower petal opening to let them climb out
in order to tie them into place with secured chains. During the trip, when not in their respective
armors, they would be doubling as gunners for the big APC, until they needed the big guns. Until
then, the Silver Eagle Pilot, Andy Luke, and the partial conversion cyborg, Shemp Fine, would be
acting as their support outside, Shemp riding on one of the NEMA "Street Tornado" Rocket
Cycles. Both the Silver Eagle and the Street Tornado were faster, more maneuverable, and they
could fly. Three things that scouts and their main support in times of trouble would need.
Harry came in along with Dani, the medic was keeping an eye on the demolitions expert for
any last-minute problems with his new bionic legs. So far, the man was doing exceptionally well

with them, and didn't show the slightest sign of cybernetic depression. In fact, he especially liked
the concealed compartments in the legs. (They allowed him to carry some extra explosives.)
Dani could swear that the man LIVED to blow things up. Her medical and paramedic kits
went into a locker, nearly filling the interior with it's bulk alone. She had packed everything she
could cram into it, not wanting to take a chance on finding out they needed something out in the
middle of no-man's land.

Aaron Willington and Carl Mandrake ran a last-minute check on the vehicle's weapons, the
dual laser cannon and the two mini-missile launchers. They checked again all the extra ammo
they would be needing and had managed to cram into the APC's limited space, which they would
no doubt need. The laser cannon wouldn't be a problem. It was tied into the vehicle's own nuclear
power supply. Ammo wouldn't be a problem for another 19 years or so for it. But the minimissiles were limited. They would have to go easy on those.
They were taking as much with them as they could, not expecting to find much on the road
due to their tight time limit.
Big Wade Adams and Raven stocked the food and water supplies and used it as a cover to
smuggle in Raven's more 'esoteric' demon-fighting gear, such as her crossbow and silver-plated
long sword.
"Thanks, Wade," said Raven, surprising him.
"What for?" asked Wade as he slipped her long sword behind the rear-most of their canned
food. Beef-treats. A new name for crap-on-a-shingle, but the same taste.
"Come on. You and I both know I'm a civilian hiding among heroes," said Raven as she leaned
back against the bulkhead.
Big Wade surprised her by putting his big hands to either side of her head, trapping her in
place and dwarfing her with his sheer size. He put his face right up against her's, their noses
nearly touching. She could feel his breath against her lips. So close. She could herself wondering
what it would be like if he closed that last, little distance... of if she should.
"Listen here. You are my NUMBER ONE crew-person. I don't want to hear you put yourself
down like that again. I don't know of ANYONE else that I'd want covering my back when we're
all out there," said Wade, staring into her dark eyes. He also noticed that his heart was beating far
too fast this close to her. It was taking all his self-control not to close that last bit of distance
between them and to find out what her lips felt like on his.
Raven opted for humor, although her voice came out husky as she said, "Or your front?"
Raven couldn't remember which of them moved first, nor did she care. Suddenly they were
trying to devour each other with their mouths. Raven molded herself against Wade's huge front,
doing her best to try to climb into his jump-suit with him.

They both jumped apart guiltily as someone bumped against the bulk-head behind them. But
neither could deny what had happened, and they were both still flushed with excitement.
"When... when we... get back," Wade panted, trying to reassert his self-control.
"When... THEN... we are... SO... going to... finish this," Raven agreed, her glittering dark eyes
bright with promise. Since the Coming of the Rifts, this had been her only passion save for
hunting demons.

*****

Author's Note: It is unknown if the unknown writer simply stopped writing for periods during
the next 12 days, or if parts of his manuscript were used as material for mice nests. The second
possibility is mentioned as several of the surrounding pages showed signs of having been nibbled
on by said rodents.

What CAN be deduced as fact, however, is that when the journal can reliably be said to restart
again, the team sent to stop the terrorists from launching nuclear missiles during the Great
Cataclysm had been traveling 12 days and were, at that time, in Wichita, Kansas, an
archeological site found by the Coalition States itself to be only 600 miles from the heart of ChiTown itself. This would conclude us to believe that conditions were so bad that even though these
heroes of yesterday were equipped with the best the Golden Age of Humanity could give them,
they were only able to average a total of 50 miles a day. We can only imagine the obstacles that
were in their way to offer such resistance to such highly developed science.
What can also be deduced is that all the heroes did survive up until this point, which gives
credence to their bravery and intelligence.

Wichita, Kansas, February 27th, 2099,

98 Days After the Coming of the Rifts,
3 Months, 8 Days

Keith cursed under his breath for what had to be the 1000th time since leaving the relatively
civil safety of Chicago. The ash from the volcanoes that were STILL erupting was worse the
further west they went.
The word 'ash' was misleading, however, as they had discovered. What volcanic ash REALLY

was happened to be microscopic rock, porous and jagged-edged. It got into everything, no matter
how well sealed against it.
A lot of the bodies they found along the way had either died from the poisonous gasses that
were even worse this way out, or they had made the mistake of treating volcanic ash as if it were
indeed ash, and not wearing something to keep it out of their mouths and eyes.
If it got into your eyes, it was jagged enough to damage the eye badly enough to blind
someone. If you breathed it in, you were in even worse shape. The particles, once in the lungs,
combined with the moisture they found there and formed a sort of cement. A LOT of people had
died, drowning in cement, in the middle of dry land.
A lot had been gotten by the demons as well.

The NEMA forces and military forces west of Chicago hadn't fared as well with this much ash.
Some of the bodies had been wearing the same armor they were wearing now.
Spooky.
The gray snow, carrying all the pollutants that the volcanoes were busy emptying into the
atmosphere with them, was indistinguishable from the volcanic ash also raining down on them,
especially in the dark and it was VERY dark, even though it was nearly 1:00 in the afternoon. The
gray snowfall was so thick that the sun was completely blotted out of the sky. Call it a guess, but
Keith didn't think that spring would be coming this year.
A lot of the buildings they had been passing through lately were either covered completely
with the gray goop that one got when volcanic ash and polluted snow combined, or the weight of
both the deep snow and the volcanic ash had caved in their roofs. Or both. Some looked to
DEFINITELY have been both.

The NEMA APC's wipers hadn't stopped working the whole time during the last 12 days, and
they were beginning to fall behind. More and more, they were having to rely on the APC's more
sophisticated sensors. Keith, Sabrina, and Tim were taking turns at driving the big 8-wheeled
armored vehicle so that they didn't stop and risk being covered as well by the fallout. They had
been forced to make stops, several times along the way, at Savannah's insistence, to find maps to
local mail-carrier routes when no other routes seemed passable. So far the tactic seemed to be
working, and for one Keith was glad they had brought these 'scouts' with them. It was the same
tactic that she and Shemp had used to find their way back to Chicago and NEMA Headquarters
through this new, strange alien landscape.
Houses, no matter how well constructed, were nearly all completely buried under the 8-foot
drifts of gray goop. And the severe winds saw to it that EVERYTHING not covered yet was at
least coated with it. Shemp had pounded gray ice off of a large sign for them to figure out that
they were traveling through what used to be a bustling metropolis. Keith was of the opinion that

the name Pompeii was going to follow a lot of city's names in the near future.
Only the APC's massive tires, evenly spaced about the big armored vehicle, and spread out
over such a distance, kept them from sinking beneath the noxious layers themselves, although if
this kept up much longer, it was going to be as solid as the landscape it had buried. And it seemed
that everywhere they found the Blue Zones, they found demons and other strange creatures. Some
weren't dangerous at all, they had found, but were just as frightened and confused as everyone
else was, and often also dealing with what was an alien environment to them.
Keith Walker felt sorry for most of them, even the stranger-looking ones, but they hadn't any
help to spare for them other than what they could offer incidentally along the way. Such as when
they had to defeat one of the Skull Stealer Demons and a large band of lesser demons he had
gathered under his command in Kansas City just 2 days ago. They had taken control of a major
bridge, the only one left standing in the area across the Missouri River and had to be defeated in
order for them to proceed.
They had freed a large band of these Dimensional Beings that were being used for slave labor
and, from what they found remaining, for a food supply. Unfortunately, however, they had been
forced to abandon those same beings to their own devices in order to continue their mission. The
only help they had been able to render was to point out what had been a local supermarket that
looked to be intact. At least they would have some food that was going to go to waste anyway.
The going was slow as the gray goop made it hard to drive through, forcing them to struggle to
maintain a mere 30 MPH, and that hampered by the need to backtrack to find roads that were
covered and landmarks that were obscured. For nearly 100 years, man had become dependent on
GPS, Global Positioning Satellites, that told you within inches where you were on the entire
planet. With contact with those satellites now completely cut off, they were forced to rely on
older, more surer, methods of finding their way. The maps were a godsend in this case. Keith
doubted that they could find a complete map of the route to where they were going. Other than
the post offices, which still kept them, and museums, as maps were an obsolete technology from
yesterday... and possibly the technology of the future, now.
Both Andy's Silver Eagle and Shemp's Street Tornado did much better, being airborne, but the
debris of the volcanic ash had to cleaned out of their engines from the inside with wire brushes, a
duty that usually was handled by Savannah and Raven without complaint. At maximum, they
could only operate for 6 hours outside of the APC, in spite of the filters in their intakes. After that,
their engines started to overheat and shut down, often dumping the pilot into the goop if they
waited too long.

Shemp, with his Street Tornado's less-sophisticated engine, had been the first to pioneer
finding the time limit, although unintentionally. Since then, Shemp and Andy had been taking
turns outside, with the other scout having their engines cleaned.
Savannah and Raven were currently cleaning the vents of Andy's Silver Eagle SAMAS when
Shemp was spotted racing back to the APC at his vehicle's full speed. His transmission from his

implanted radio wasn't great, but it could be made out.

"Attention, APC! We've got a BIG problem. And it's headed our way... FAST!"
Keith answered over the APC's radio, "This is Lt. Walker, Sgt. Fine. What is the nature of the
'problem?'"
"We've got the biggest storm front I've ever seen heading our way. We need to find cover, and
find it FAST!" Shemp explained as he buzzed around the APC, outside. Even this close, there was
interference.
"Sgt. Fine, we've seen nothing BUT storms. Shemp, what's got you so riled up about THIS
one?"
"It stretches as far as I could see, and it's creating tornadoes and lightning like it found a batch
on sale! It's like nothing I've ever seen before. It looks like a HURRICANE, but it's a HELL of a
lot bigger that anything I've ever seen on the weather channel before. I think it's one of those
SUPER-STORMS!"

The news had everyone's attention. They had seen 3 'Super-Storms' in the last 2 months, and
that had been in the relatively sheltered confines of Chicago. Shemp was right. Out here in the
new wilderness, they wouldn't stand a chance. They did need to find cover, and fast. Cover that
they could wait in until the storm had passed. The last one had lasted 2 weeks.
"Sgt. Fine, do you have any idea where we can find shelter at?" asked Keith.
"One. Savannah and I used a similar one to what I spotted on the way back on our first trip out
here. There's a big super-mall about 1/2 mile to the west. I can get there before you and get a
loading dock open. I think it's big enough to take the APC inside. From what I could see, it
looked to still be secure, so we might be able to get the heat going in there, and there might be
supplies we can use."
"Sounds like a plan to me. Do it, and we'll meet you there. Leave your transceiver on so we
can track you."
Some luck was with them. They had discovered that the Blue Zones were far less numerous
here in the west than they were back east. Communications were bad, but still better here,
although the fall of ash still made it a mess at the best of times. Shemp had opened a loading dock
by cutting away the locks with his retractable vibro-blades before using his Street Tornado's laser
to cut a ramp through the messy gray goop. Ironically, the ramp was angled down from above to
reach the raised dock that had been used to unload from the back of hauler trucks. Shemp had
also placed a pair of road flares from his pack by the entrance to make it more visible for them.
Savannah just knew that smirk meant he was going to be insufferably smug.

By the time they had arrived, the super-storm was upon them. Shemp had been right to be
concerned. They had passed at least 3 of the F-5 tornadoes it had generated, ripping apart
residential houses and buildings that hadn't yet been buried in their path. Worse, another
earthquake had hit, nearly toppling a skyscraper onto them along the way. Keith had never seen a
tornado made of snow and ice before, let along one that was half a mile wide, and he hoped to
never see one again.
It was a tight fit, but the loading dock was big enough to let Keith drive the APC inside the
superstore. Once inside, Shemp lowered the gate behind them, sheltering them from the storm as
the temperature began to plummet even lower. With the gates closed, the only light came from the
dim headlights on their vehicle, dim because they were caked with the gray goop.
For the first time in a week, they were able to stop the APC and rest as a group. They might as
well, as they weren't going anywhere until the storm passed. Even the terrorists would have to
take shelter against a storm as powerful as a hurricane, and as large as an entire continent.

Lt. Walker began snapping out his orders, "Tim, Sabrina, and Andy, I want you in armor and
doing a security sweep of this facility in 15 minutes. Make sure we're secure in here and that we it
looks like we can weather the storm here.
"Shemp and Savannah, you two secure the loading dock until we're ready to leave. Everyone
else, I want to service the APC while we've got a chance. Everyone get busy."
It took Andy all of 5 minutes to find the main power circuit box and to reset them. Power,
including the lights and heating, came in all over the mall.
"This place still has power? After 2 and 1/2 months of all this stuff?" asked Shemp as he
looked up from the wields he was making on the door.
"It probably has one of those new, self-contained nuclear generators, like they installed at all
the main post offices. A lot of the new buildings with post offices in them were being equipped
with them as well," answered Savannah.
"So... there is likely to be a post office... with maps... in here?" asked Shemp with a grin.
Savannah smiled brightly as she replied, "Most likely."
Raven broke the mood when she added, "I'm just glad the heaters are kicking in. I hope they
have showers in here."

*****

Wichita, Kansas, March 1st, 2099,

100 Days After the Coming of the Rifts,

3 Months, 10 Days

In some ways, Shemp was glad that the super-storm was still raging outside of the mall. There
was no worry that the lights from within would be spotted as every opening to the outside had
been completely covered by the gray goop and layers of filthy ice. Their group had been going
non-stop for the last 12 days prior to finding their temporary haven in this new wasteland in the
American mid-west.
Most of the crew were currently gathered in the gaming and hobby shop. Tim had broken into
a bank inside the super mall and everyone was playing poker, with a minimum bet of $5,000 of
currently-worthless paper money. The only thing these days of any value were the credits that
they earned back in Chicago. So far the big winner was Carl Mandrake who had amassed over
$10,000,000, forcing several of the group to go back for more money and bank notes. At least he
had when Shemp had left the game. He began to get depressed when he realized that what they
were playing with might as well have been Monopoly money.
Shemp had found this place within hours of entering the super-mall. The waterfall was
artificial, of course, but the size of a Olympic-sized swimming pool. It was a centerpiece for what
had once been a fashionable Itallian restaurant. But Shemp found that the sound of the cascading
water felt soothing on nerves frayed over the last few months. He closed his eyes and imagined
that he was standing by a waterfall he remembered near the home he had grown up at, surrounded
by a woodland reserve.
Before the Great Cataclysm, 95% of earth's surface had been transformed into metropolitan
areas. The remaining 5% was carefully cultured parks, preserves, and forests that were grown
with the purpose of being harvested.
There was little remaining of that. And there was less everyday.
Shemp held his hand under the running water. If he really concentrated, he could almost make
it feel like he remembered it back home. The synthetic skin was a modern marvel, but all sense of
touch in all 4 of his limbs were muted, at best, half of what it had been before he had lost his real
skin and flesh.
"I love waterfalls."

Shemp didn't quite jump 6 feet into the air, but he felt like he had. He whirled, quite guiltily, as
if he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't have been. He found Savannah, smiling and
watching him.
"Sorry. I wasn't paying attention," said Shemp with a shrug. It was true. With his ultra-ear and
multi-optic eyes he should have seen Savannah long before she got that close.

Savannah giggled as she approached and said, "Don't worry. I won't tell. Actually, I'm just glad
to find that we have something like this waterfall in common."
Shemp was just glad he could see Savannah. Everyone had gotten out of their uniforms for a
while, plundering the clothing shops for clothes they could wear until it was time to leave. The
original owners of the shops were probably long dead or far from caring what happened to their
stock at this point.
Savannah had chosen, today, a summer dress with spaghetti straps and a lovely floral pattern,
leaving her feet in a set of tied high heels that came up past her ankles. She had even painted her
finger and toe nails to match. She and Raven had spent yesterday styling each other's hair,
laughing like sisters.
She looked lovely. The effect was far from wasted on Shemp, and it wasn't the dress itself he
was staring at.
Shemp grinned as he watched Savannah run one perfectly manicured hand under the
waterfall's downpour. Her smiling face fairly glowed with a light all its own. Shemp felt his heart
thumping in his chest. Could she hear that? How could she miss it?
"You know, I'd almost given up on seeing another waterfall, especially one with clean water in
it. Finding this one, here, like this, is sort of like finding a little bit of hope that's left, don't you
think?" she asked while still smiling.
Shemp had an idea of what she was talking about, all right. but his ray of hope wasn't the
waterfall. It was the woman in front of it.

"It's strange, isn't it? I mean, here we are, we've been so busy for weeks trying to cope with
one emergency after the other, a constant stream of attacks and disasters straight out of a highbudget movie, that THIS is really the first chance that we've had to sit back and take perspective
on everything that's happened to us. How many things have changed," said Shemp.
"I know. And I keep finding myself thinking that all of this will eventually pass, at least
someday. That we've just got to hold on and get through it all, until things can get better," she
admitted, her chocolate brown eyes still watching the fall of water in fascination.
He chuckled and said, "YOU have GOT to be the most optimistic person that I have EVER
met. Here we are, stuck right in the middle of an Apocalypse of BIBLICAL proportions, and in
the face of it all, you're looking on the 'bright side.'"
"It certainly beats the alternative. We're ALIVE, and we're still trying to make things
BETTER. And we're helping as many people as we can. AND... we actually manage to find a
WATERFALL among all of this," said Savannah as she sat on the edge of the large pool that
caught and recycled the water. Shemp raised an eyebrow as she began undoing the laces on her
high heels.

Shemp raised an eyebrow as he watched her with very interested eyes. He grinned as he asked,
"Just what are you doing?"
"Are you kidding?" asked Savannah as she put aside her high heels and began removing her
hose. Shemp didn't begin howling at the moon, but JUST barely. "How long could it be before we
find ANOTHER waterfall? I intend to fully enjoy THIS one as much as I can for as long as I can,
for whatever time we have it."
Holding up her dress out of the way, Savannah hopped over the low, mock-stone wall and
splashed her feet around the outer edge of the pool of water. She wriggled her toes and squealed
like a school-girl at the sensation.
How do you argue with logic like THAT?
Shemp grinned as he undid the buttons on his shirt while kicking off his loafers and nearly
tripping himself as he removed his socks by stepping on the ends of them and pulling his feet out
of them. Considering the view, he supposed he couldn't really be blamed for being in a hurry.
Noticing the look that Savannah was giving him, he said, "Hey, if we're going to enjoy OUR
time with the waterfall, I thin we should really make a COMMITMENT."

Savannah laughed at his grin. The laughing stopped as Shemp didn't stop with his shirt, but
removed ALL of his clothes, dumping them in the same pile as the rest of his clothes. Without
them on, Savannah could see the slight difference in pigmentation where his organic skin ended
and where the artificial skin began. There were faint scars around the circumference of his limbs,
as well as across his shoulders and hips, joined by another long scar that rose from his tail-bone to
vanish under his scalp. It was one thing to have read that a partial-conversion cyborg had his hips,
shoulders, and spine reinforced with metal plating, to anchor and support the new limbs. To
actually see it gave Savannah an idea of the pain he had gone through and the severity of the
injuries he had not only suffered from the wounds that had made such a change necessary, but
also from the surgery itself. Even if it kept the new limbs from ripping away from the body when
it was used, or to reduce the risk of snapping his spine when he lifted a great weight with his new
limbs.
Savannah found that she could only imagine the pain that this must have caused him, first
losing his limbs in the explosion that had nearly killed him, and then such invasive surgery as
that. Even with all the modern medical advancements, he had to have endured a personal living
hell at the time. Followed by the realization that he would, for the rest of his days, be half
machine. No wonder he had been trapped in such a state of depression and anger when they had
first met, and why he'd been so willing to risk everything in such fights as that with the Slithering
Screamer.
As Shemp stepped into the water with her, Savannah raised her summer dress over her head,
hanging it on the branch of a decorative tree that was near the pool of water.

They both moved to stand under the cascading water of the waterfall, letting it pound against
their bodies as they watched each other. She didn't miss the hungry look in Shemp's eyes as she
came closer, he watching her approach.
Shemp's arms slid about her waist at the same time that she put her arms about his solid
shoulders. Their lips met as they let the water fall over them, running in rivulets along the line
formed where their bodies pressed together.
A hunger built between them during their first kiss, and far from their last. Their hands began
to move along their water-slicked bodies, exploring each other with the eagerness of new lovers.
All that remained of the world, to them, was Savannah and Shemp... and the waterfall.

*****

Wichita, Kansas, March 1st, 2099,

101 Days After the Coming of the Rifts,
3 Months, 11 Days

Keith Walker and Tim Darkmoon paused with their shopping carts loaded with civilian-grade
firearms and ammo that they were salvaging from a sporting goods store and a department store
within the mall. The firearms were mostly hunting rifles and shotguns, but even those could be
very useful, especially since the bullets could be coated with silver on their return to NEMA
Headquarters in Chicago.
Since they had to wait out the storm here, they had decided to see what they could salvage
from the stores, and to replenish their supplies with what was on hand. In truth, Keith in
particular would be pleased as punch if he NEVER had to eat crap-on-a-shingle again. Cans of
peaches, beans, and various veggies already stocked their shelves while Wade and Raven
gathered various soups and canned meats.
The fruit bars that were nearly completely consumed and their shelf space was being replaced
with things as unusual as jars of peanut butter and sardines, boxes of crackers, and wedges of
cheese. Keith had specifically requested a 20-pound bag of gourmet, freshly-ground coffee to
replace the generic army-ration slop that they had been given. He had even managed to tuck away
a trio of 20-year-old scotch bottles from the fine liquors store. It was disappointing that he didn't
have the room to 'rescue' more of it, but their space aboard the APC was limited.
Listening closely, Tim asked, "Is the wind actually starting to die down?" He cocked his head
to listen at a better angle and thought he did, indeed, hear a change in the winds which hadn't
stopped for a moment during the last 3 days.

Keith nodded, hearing the same change in the pitch of the wind outside. The super-storm was
quickly blowing itself out.
"We'd better get this stuff to the APC and get word to the others that we're going to be moving
out as soon as the storm stops," said Keith.
"Damn. And I was just beginning to enjoy being on R&R," sighed Tim as they pushed their
carts back towards the loading bay.
They arrived at the APC and left the sorting and storage of their salvage to Big Wade and
Raven, who were already back, while Keith went inside to use the on-board radio to call the team
back together. It was time to get on with the mission.

Shemp and Savannah lay together in the shallow edge of the pool, the waterfall endlessly
showering down nearby, warmed by their embrace in each other's arms and the kisses they
shared.
"What's wrong?" she asked as she saw the expression on Shemp's face change.
"My ultra-ear's radio implant. Keith is calling everyone back together over their radios," he
answered reluctantly, "It looks like our vacation together is going to be over soon."
Savannah sighed sadly as well. She wanted nothing more than to stay here forever in Shemp's
arms. But she knew that wasn't possible. Helping people was what they did. They couldn't just
stay here and let those people down.
Shemp thought that, even sighing, she looked gorgeous, her wet body against the backdrop of
her summer dress' floral pattern. The dress would be completely impractical for the weather
outside, of course, and would likely be un-wearable for years to come, which had been, of course,
the point to her having worn it while inside yesterday. Neither of them had bothered getting
dressed today, content to spend the entire day in each other's arms.
It was slow, reluctant going to leave the waterfall and each other's arms as they re-dressed, not
in the clothes that they had been wearing, but in the uniform jumpsuit and combat boots that
everyone would be wearing. They both knew it would likely be some time before they had such
time together again, as crowded as the APC already was and with duty constantly calling.
Savannah saw the look on Shemp's face as he thought about all this before saying, "I just
KNEW this wouldn't last. Unlimited clothing, a waterfall, and YOU. Dreams like that just CAN'T
last."
Savannah saw him blush beneath her compliment and wondered if his cybernetic limbs could
blush as well. If they did, then he was certainly blushing right down to his toes.
Savannah started to reach for the dress on the tree limb, but stopped herself, letting her hand
fall back to her side. No, let it stay. Let whoever eventually found this place wonder just how the

dress wound up draped by an artificial waterfall. She didn't need the dress as a reminder. She had
something far more enduring and important to her. Maybe someone would figure out how it got
here, however far in the future it was. The smile sent a grin racing to her face as she turned back
towards where Shemp was tying his boot laces, his eyes never leaving her as she moved.
She put a little more wiggle than really necessary in her walk and saw that the effect wasn't
lost on him. A woman did love to know that she was appreciated after all.
"Well... there's NO reason we can't re-create this time," said Shemp with a sudden smile as he
grabbed the two large, empty duffel bags.

The grin on his face told Savannah that he'd like nothing better than to re-create it right now.
She felt that way herself. Of course, she was also feeling like a teenager again at the moment as
well.
Shemp led them on a run by the clothing store on their way back to the APC. When they left it
a few moments later, both bags were filled with clothing, stuffed near to bursting. They planned
to try each and every one on before removing them when they got back to Chicago. It was a
promise that both of them were determined to keep.
By the time they arrived, everyone was piling into the APC to put their armor back on and to
re-collect their gear. Wade and Raven were surprised when Shemp handed them the bags, but one
look at the way they were looking at each other told them all they needed to know. With their own
grins they stowed the bags for them while they started getting into their own armor.
It took both Sabrina and Tim, in their power armors, nearly an hour to dig them out of the gray
goop that had piled over their ramp until the APC could rumble back out into the nuclear winter
of the apocalypse. Once they had cleared the new opening, it was clear that there was almost no
snowfall happening at all, although the volcanic ash hadn't yet given up the fight.
It was a shock to everyone that the tall super-mall had been completely buried while they had
been inside. If they hadn't known it was there, they would never have found it after the storm.
Shemp was the first one out, once again on his Street Tornado. The APC left wide tracks
behind it as it climbed out over another 5 feet of freshly fallen gray goop and a top-surface of ash.
Andy Luke was the last to leave in his SAMAS, staying behind long enough to turn the mall's
mini-nuclear power supply off and to seal the docking door behind them. In the event that NEMA
was ever able to actually mount a salvage expedition this far out someday. It was the standing
NEMA policy.
Andy wondered about that policy and the wisdom behind it on exiting the hole in the dirty
snow made by the Armored Personnel Carrier. What little of this town had been visible BEFORE
the super-storm was now encased in ash and snow. There wasn't even any sign that there had ever
been a town here. It looked like some area of the moon. There was little clue as to the metropolis
that lay beneath it. He supposed that most of the mid-west would look like this now, being much

closer to the super-volcano that had lain beneath Yellowstone National Park. The ash-fall would
be much denser here.
And it would keep getting denser as long as the volcano... ALL the volcanoes... kept spewing
their ash into the air. And they would keep going as long as the earthquakes kept up.
And who the hell knew that was causing one after the other of those?
The scientists back at Chicago had an idea it was somehow tied into the Blue Zones, that
somehow all the deaths were feeding them, and that they in turn were feeding the chaos around
the globe.
Of course, if the deaths stopped, then the Blue Zones would stop getting fed, but somehow he
doubted that was going to happen anytime soon. And he sure as hell wasn't about ready to just lie
down and die.
If the Blue Zones wanted him so badly, then they could damn well WORK for it.
Considering how far out from the central headquarters that they now were, he had to wonder,
though, if they would EVER get to salvage all this stuff, even as badly as it was needed. There
was literally TONS of it, but the demons made ground travel too dangerous to go very far, and
while the ash stayed in the air in clouds they couldn't get anything that flew into the air for very
long. NEMA was just too badly pressed for the resources that they had.
Then again, he was an ACE, a Fly-Boy, and policy-making really wasn't his headache, at least
not today.

Andy ignited the jets on his SAMAS, unfolded the wings by his shoulders and ankles, and his
armor rose into the air. He flew after the APC as it busily churned through the thick crust of ash,
the dust-cloud of it's movement the only distinguishable feature in this wasteland. At least, so he
thought, until he saw demons begin making their way out of whatever bolt-hole they had went
into to avoid the storm.
He felt like opening fire on them, but knew at the moment that they couldn't afford a
protracted battle that would sap their own limited resources. With a frown of distaste of leaving
this place to the enemy, he set off after the APC on it's southwestern course.

In the darkness of the mall, the last of the water in the waterfall's tank played out, splashing
down into the pool. It was the last sound inside the mall. A lone dress, hanging from the limb of
one of the decorative trees bore mute witness to it.
Emergency lights, triggered by the cessation of the power, burned for 8 hours after their
departure, then one by one went out, leaving the super-mall a tomb of testament that it had, for a
brief time, served as a home for a band of heroes.

Outside, the ash continued to fall, filling in the ramp that had been made, erasing all traces of
their passing.
Demons continued to prowl the wasteland above, digging themselves out before they began
digging for the food that they knew lay buried below. It was their time of the great feast, and they
were eating quite well indeed.

*****

Oklahoma City, Oklahoma (presumably), March 3rd, 2099,

101 Days After the Coming of the Rifts,
3 Months, 13 Days

The landscape had taken on such a uniform look that it was nearly impossible to tell where
they were. Presumably they knew where they were by the odometer inside the APC and the maps
that Savannah had gotten from the mall's post office.
Ironically, they were making better time now because most of the obstructions they would
have encountered had been completely buried under feet and feet of ash, snow, and the combined
gray goop. Now all they needed to know was if they were headed in the right direction. The cloud
of ash made it impossible to see the sun or the stars, GPS wasn't working anymore, and the ash
had a large concentration of iron ore in it, so even their compass wasn't working right.
In turns, Andy and Shemp had to spot what few landmarks they guessed remained and they
adjusted their course accordingly. This was assuming they had the right landmarks.
The earthquakes had pushed up a whole new landscape while dropping others. It really was a
whole new world out there now.
Harry Cassidy looked up from the paperback novel he was reading, one he had taken from the
bookstore back at the mall in Kansas, part of the cache they had rescued 2 days ago, and now no
doubt completely covered by the gray goop when it resumed barely an hour after they had left.

This far to the south, this close to the super-volcano itself, you could see the ash-plumes. Not
that hard, considering that they soared up to 25 miles into the sky, hitting even the stratosphere.
The sky was even darker here. Not even the twilight light of winter/early spring could punch
through the thick volcanic clouds of gas and ash that spread from the gigantic plumes to the
northwest.

Some of the passes they had expected to find had become completely impassable due to the
fall of ash and gray goop. The ash, actually being microscopic rock, had weighed down bridges
and overpasses so much that many had collapsed. Some had simply fallen during the earthquakes.
Some no long led anywhere, having been torn away during the great land upheavals while others
had fallen into new gorges that hadn't been there before.

According to their maps and their figures, they should be in the middle of downtown
Oklahoma City, but there wasn't so much as a trace of it left that they could see. It had been
completely buried.
Harry leaned forward on his new cybernetic legs, hearing the light whining as the actuators in
his knees took the weight of his body bending forward, and looked at the instrument panel in
front of him. He spotted what among the readouts it was that had caught his attention.
Harry's eyes widened as every light on his warning panels lit up like a Christmas tree on
speed.
"Hey! HEY! We've got a confirmed LAUNCH of a missile heading right over our heads,
people!" Harry shouted, his voice so loud in the APC that the intercom system was redundant.
Keith called up the only reliable systems they had left, the short range sensors, from the pilot's
station and cursed at what the readings told him. It was bad news. MAJOR bad news.

"What is it?" asked Riana.

Keith put the broken, grainy picture up on the main screen so that everyone could see.
Outside of the APC, flying his scouting patrol, Andy Luke had a much better, first-hand view,
watching the heat readings on his NEMA Silver Eagle SAMAS worriedly. The ash had started to
limit his flying time to only 2 hours with it falling so thickly this close to the majority of the
volcanic activity. The ash got into everything now, including the 'sealed' air filters.
That was about to become the least of his worries.
The warning lights flashed on his helmet's HUD, the Heads Up Display, and allowed him to
look up in time to see not one, but two HUGE missiles flash by overhead, their gigantic flaming
trails being visible even in this murky light. His eyes widened as he whispered, "Oh, sweet God...
they really did it... they're shooting off NUKES!"
Eyes wide in horror, Andy watched as the missiles split apart, going in two different
directions. Even through this murk and gloom, he got to see the glow from the end of Little Rock,
Arkansas. The nuclear explosion even cut through this gloom. He had no idea where the other
missile was headed.
"God help us," whispered Dani Alpo, her hand tight about her silver cross, "They've already

started."
It was a thought echoed by everyone.

White Sands, New Mexico, March 3rd, 2099,

101 Days After the Coming of the Rifts,
3 Months, 13 Days

Kathy Prosek, leader of the Soldiers of God, watched as the latest 10 nuclear missiles left the
long-range radar. They were heading for their pre-programmed targets, including New York City,
Saint Louis, and the NEMA bases closest to them which Wilma had found in the computer
records at the Great Salt Lake, Utah, and north of their own position at Santa Fe, New Mexico,
and a smaller contingent at Deming, New Mexico. She SO hoped that they enjoyed the Neutron
Bomb she was sending their way. There were only a few of those in the inventory, but this close
to her own base, she didn't want to risk fallout over a long period of time.
After all, she didn't want any possible authority-type figures showing up to try to stop her from
cleansing the Demons from the face of the earth.
This was HER planet, not theirs!
And if the government or anyone else was just too squeamish to use their NUKES to get rid of
them, then they had damned well better stay out of her way while SHE did it.

Not many could see the necessity, the need for such catastrophic collateral casualties, but she
had no problems with it. These invaders had to be scourged from her world at all costs.
Tristan watched the blips from the screen, one by one, vanish. They were replaced with
glowing circles on the screen as well as statistics of the estimated damage done, at least from
before the Great Cataclysm.
Tristan gulped. The reality of what they were doing was just becoming clear to his mind and
he felt a distinct sinking sensation in his stomach.
Until now, it had always seemed like one of this video games. But the reality of what they
were doing was on the screen right in front of his face, and it didn't feel like a video game any
more.
Ten nuclear missiles were on their way to destroy EVERYTHING where they struck, and for
miles and miles past that point as well. They would also poison the land for miles around as well,
for many generations.

He felt sick when he realized that HE had helped to put them into the air. And 10 more from
the already waiting 40 missiles would soon join them as they worked on completing even more of
them.
Why hadn't he seen how this would feel?

One of those circles was the Arch of Saint Louis, Missouri. His home. FORMER home. The
circle meant that it wasn't there any longer.
His dad's old construction company had been on the outskirts of town, but he knew that
wouldn't have helped any of them at all. It and everyone in it was already as good as gone.
"Isn't this just BEAUTIFUL?" breathed Kathy in a sigh that was nearly orgasmic, her eyes
glued to the main screen, her voice low and husky.
Tristan realized that the thought of the destruction... and of the destruction to come was...
turning her on.
"Kathy? We... we REALLY had to do this, didn't we?" Tristan asked in a voice more like that
of a little boy than the elder teen that he was.

Kathy turned a disappointed look on him and she demanded, "You're not getting cold feet on
me NOW, are you?"
Tristan gulped again.
"You want those damned things running around out there? You WANT to share OUR world
with THEM? Do you want this to become THEIR world? Well, not THIS girl," snarled Kathy, her
eyes fever bright as she spoke, "I want them GONE! And I really don't care how many whitetrailer-trash-nutcase-survivalists have to go with them! UNDERSTOOD?!"
Tristan faded back before Kathy's anger and fervor, nodding his head as he kept his eyes
down.
His acquiescence seemed to satisfy Kathy's fanatical question. She turned away from him,
facing the computer screen as she ordered an acolyte, "Tell them to get the next 10 missiles ready,
and I want an estimate on when the next batch will be ready."
Tristan started to head back to work when Kathy purred over her shoulder, "I'm going to be
wearing the green teddy you like so much tonight, Tristan. Don't be late."
Kathy smiled as she watched him go. It was so easy. A stick in one hand, and a carrot in the
other. Stick and carrot. Worked every time.

*****

DAYS OF THE APOCALYPSE (Part 5)

White Sands, New Mexico, March 5th, 2099,

102 Days After the Coming of the Rifts,
3 Months, 15 Days

For a change, the horrible weather actually proved to be something of a blessing as Keith
drove them on at a full 2/3 rd speed, a full 60 MPH. Since hitting Texas, the gray goop with the
increased ash actually packed better. They didn't waste precious time trying to dig the APC out of
collapsing holes, nor did they have to worry about many bridges as Texas was now mostly flatland, and New Mexico proved to be more of the same, just with more mesas to worm their way
around.
The distance they had covered in the last 14 days was nearly the same that they covered during
the last 2 in getting to White Sands. This was primarily because of two factors. First, Keith drove
parallel to the shape of what he guessed (correctly, it would seem) was the remains of old
Interstate 40 and hooked south on old Interstate 25. Not that we could actually see it, but the cars
stranded on it made different bumps in the landscape of heavy ash-laden snow.

Keith let his binoculars down and wiped at the gray-goop already settling on him. He could
see the terrorists were already readying another group of mis-matched missiles. Lord only knew
just how many of them that they had already fired off, but he intended to put a stop to it as of
NOW! Saturn missiles rested beside Neutron and various MIRV, Multiple Impact Reentry Vector,
missiles. The last ones were a real worry, as many of the old ones carried up to 10 warheads that
split off from the main missile upon reentry towards the target to cover a wider area in complete
destruction. What had the scientists been thinking? Wasn't just ONE nuclear explosion destructive
enough?
There seemed to be little pattern or order to the assembly of the missiles, and some of the
terrorists were constantly running construction vehicles in order to keep the gray goop from
getting in the way. Everyone seemed to be active, but without any real order or pattern. To Keith
it looked like children had been put in charge.
The thought made him raise the binoculars again. Sure enough, most of the terrorists were
under 30 or he'd eat his left boot.
Great. KIDS were tossing about nukes.

Most of the terrorists he saw were older teens and young adults. The few older men in the
crowd appeared to be scientists, and those moved from missile to missile under armed guard. No
mystery why they were helping the terrorists there.
Keith put the binoculars away in a protective case after shaking them off vigorously.
"All right, everyone. This is a really bad set-up. We're going to have to try to solve this
situation from several angles at once, so we're going to have to split up into several smaller
squads, and that means splitting up our strength

"Andy Luke and Sabrina Hazel? You're Squad 1. It's going to be your job to punch through
resistance at the fight time, and I do mean with EXTREME prejudice, and you will assist in
apprehending the leader of this group of terrorists for trial back in Chicago.
"Riana Creed, Myself, and Matt Walker will have the job to recover the codes to nullify the
warheads on the missiles that they currently are readying for launch. It will also be up to us to
create a distraction for those of you on the south and east walls. We're Squad 2.
"Tim Darkmoon, Harry Cassidy, and Carl Mandrake. You're Squad 3. It will be your job to
engage the enemy head-on and to keep them preoccupied. Tim and Harry will be artillery and
support. Carl will keep you both supplied with ammo as needed so that you can keep fighting. I
don't want you to try to engage in any subtle actions, I want the terrorists to know you're there.
Yes, Tim, that means you get to use your big cannon, so everyone had better have their protective
hearing turned on in their helmets. Be careful NOT to hit any of those missiles, though, while
you're at it. The missiles were originally designed with fail-safes to prevent them from going off
before they hit their targets, but we don't have clue one if those idiots have installed those as well
or if they still work. Hell, I just hope they remembered the protective shielding on them or else
everyone down there is going to be glowing in the dark.
"Big Wade, Raven, Shemp, and Savannah. You're Squad 4. It's your job to get into the control
center and shut down the launch of those missiles. You're also to put up a firewall and a virus
infection on their computer systems to keep this from ever happening again."

"US?" asked Wade, worried.

Keith frowned at being interrupted and replied, "Yes, YOU. Your files say that you have a
computer expert with you, right?"
Wade felt his stomach drop. He had made out Raven's fake computer service record himself, to
match her false credentials, and he recalled at the time that Raven had told him that she had
designed a web-site once, so he had merrily included the words 'computer expert' in her file,
never dreaming that someone might actually want a firefighter working on a computer. He had
the feeling that they were in big trouble now, if they were counting on a computer expert.

"Uh... yeah," said Wade as he stepped in front of Raven before she could blurt anything out.
Keith, already with a ton on his mind, went on to name Squad 5, Dani Alpo and Aaron
Willington, who would be moving into position to flank the terrorists and support Squad 3 in
fighting the diversely equipped terrorists and to take care of one of the bigger obstacles they
would be able to throw into their way.
Having been named to their team, Shemp and Savannah noticed as Wade and Raven
whispered together and then moved off to a corner for a private conversation. After exchanging a
look of their own, they went to see what was up with their worried-looking team-mates. They
both did their best imitations of clams when they saw the others approach, but Savannah and
Shemp were already onto the fact that something was wrong. Shemp's ultra-ear also served to
amplify sounds, after all.
"All right, you two. There's a problem," said Savannah as she quickly intuited the situation
when she saw the guilty looks on their faces.
Wade remembered that Shemp could hear VERY well and knew he'd likely overheard them.
He said, "Raven is NOT a computer expert. She's barely able to design a web-site with a program
to do just that. I... falsified her records so that she could stay on my squad."
Shemp restrained the urge to groan. It wasn't like they could go back or send for another
computer expert. And they were OUT of time.
"I'm not even NEMA," admitted Raven, her shoulders slumped, "I've had some training, but
I'm not a certified fire-fighter, either. I'm a girl that's good at hunting and killing demons."

"Oh, holy crap. The mission won't even come close to working if we don't have a computer
expert. If we don't disable the computers, then they'll be able to fire the missiles they have,"
groaned Shemp quietly.
"Yes, we do," said Savannah.
Her 3 teammates gawked at Savannah as if she'd grown an extra head.
Savannah sighed and explained, "Can anyone tell me just WHY no one looks at MY resume"?
I used to work with computer records with the postal service, you know. I don't know if I qualify
for an 'expert' rating, but I can work and program computers with the best of them. I also know
about virus files that the postal service had to avoid on the world wide web because they
ALWAYS picked up viruses that would destroy a system. I think I know enough to drop the antivirus protection on their computers and let one in."
Raven had to ask.
"How do you know you can get to one of those sites? Isn't the web down, too?"
"I can find one in the buffer files."

"How do you know one will be there?"

"Because it's primarily MEN on the computers in any government agency, and quite a few of
them are PORN sites."

Raven sniggered while both Shemp and Wade tried to look like they had no idea what the
word porn even meant. The girls weren't buying it for a minute.
"All right. Not a word to ANYONE else, especially Keith. Since Savannah was supposed to
provide cover-fire and muscle with the rest of us so that Raven could get to the computer, we'll
just switch roles for them, with no one the wiser," said Wade.
"And PLEASE, when we get back to Chicago, you get the 'computer expert' part OFF of
Raven's profile. They use those things to choose for missions. Go with 'hand-to-hand expert' or
'unusual equipment', if that sword you stashed back there is any clue," said Shemp.
Both Raven and Wade stared at him in surprise.
Shemp shrugged and said, "I wanted to make sure that the clothes we smuggled on board
made it okay. I figured that since you two did us a favor, we could return it and not mention what
you stashed behind the bags."
"Agreed," said Wade and Raven in unison before they all went to get the rest of their gear
together.
Wade clapped Shemp on the shoulder. If nothing else, he and Raven had made a pair of very
good friends in Savannah and Shemp.
Wade just hoped that they all got through this all right. he didn't want to make good friends
and then have to bury them later.
But that had become a real reality to consider these days. It wasn't a possibility that could be
ignored just because he didn't like it.
He had held onto Raven for more than her looks and personality. Of the entire fire-team that
had come to Chicago since December 22nd, only she and he were left. The mortality rate among
NEMA personnel was just as high as everyone else's, if not more so.
Wade fastened the seal to his helmet and hefted the familiar weight to his vibro-fire ax as he
said, "All right, let's go storm this place."
Raven chuckled and said, "Just worry about getting us inside without making too much noise."

*****

Luckier Nugget Saloon, Main Street, Silver City, New West,

New Mexico Territory (Old American Empire), May 3rd, 105 P.A.

"Jesus," said Wolf, "It doesn't sound like Prosek's ancestor didn't fall too far from the tree."
"Actually, I think the reverse is true. Kathy was there before Karl Prosek," pointed out Ginger.
"What I can't believe is that anyone would be stupid enough to assemble moth-balled missiles
and then actually fire them," said Lee Mandrake from near the bar, "Those things are incredibly
complex. If they got even one thing wrong on any one of the missiles..."
Heather was deliriously bubbly as she said, "See? I told you all that Shemp and Savannah
were going to be together. It's a ROMANCE!"
Feeling a bit irritated, Ginger felt compelled to point out, "So were Romeo and Juliet."
"Who?" asked Heather and Meggy in unison, sure that there was romance gossip that they
were mission out on somehow.
"DON'T," warned Ruffy before Ginger could open her mouth, "Unless you want to spend the
rest of the night getting them to stop crying over it."
Ginger clamped her mouth shut. Tragic romance were NOT their favorite.
"And here we thought it was just volcanic activity that had destroyed the top level of Base
Morrigan," said Doug as Tamara leaned on his arm, "Although that would explain a few of the
systems that we found blown out among the computers. Might even explain why the timers on the
cryogenic pods didn't open on time."
"Why is that?" asked Martin, interested.
"EMP. Electro-Magnetic Pulse. Tends to fry electronics if they don't have enough shielding to
keep it out. And they did say that they fired one missile at a complex that was just north of their
position. I don't know of any but Base Morrigan that belonged to NEMA back then," answered
Doug.
Mandrake mused that this book was looking more and more authentic all the time. This Carl
Mandrake would have been his and Lee's, what, great-great grand-uncle? Perhaps he had kinsmen
in this day and age that he hadn't even realized. Was there a clue as to where they were in the
pages of this book?
Even Gravedigger, with her notoriously mercurial memory, seemed entranced by this tale.
Squat loved to read, so of course she'd been hooked early on, but holding Gravedigger's attention
span for any length of time was a true wonder.
"Thom?" asked Lady Priscilla, "If you don't mind, would you read a bit longer? I must admit,

I'm anxious to find out more about the story myself."

Thom smiled and said, "It would be my pleasure, but perhaps Joe might want someone else to
read?"
"No. No, you go right ahead," said Joe eagerly. He had a feeling that a storyteller like
Mandrake would be just what this oral book might need.

Seeing no one object, Thom cleared his throat and again began to read from the pages before
him.

White Sands, New Mexico, March 5th, 2099,

102 Days After the Coming of the Rifts,
3 Months, 15 Days
Midnight

Tim Darkmoon nodded as Aaron Willington radioed through his helmet radio that Squad 5 was
in position and ready.
"We're good to go," said Tim, "It's about time that we crashed this little tea party of their's."
"Um, how do we start? I know everyone is waiting for a signal from us, but Keith Walker
never specified what we're supposed to do next," asked Carl Mandrake as he used his Roscoe
Power Armor to pry the lid off of a crate of grenades for Harry's grenade launcher.
Tim and Harry shared a chuckle before Tim said, "Son, a Chromium Guardsman's 'Boom-Gun'
isn't exactly a SUBTLE weapon. There's a reason that Keith put both Harry and me on the same
team."
The White Sands Military Complex itself covered a full square mile on the surface. Most of it
consisted of labs and the massive storage facility in 3 layers, a 5-mile square complex that lay
underground.
In the underground complex was stored the components for the missiles and the warheads that,
when assembled, accounted for the bulk of the 'outdated' but still useable nuclear missiles. It was
from this stockpile that the terrorists had been assembling their toys. The good news was that
most of them were still underground. The bad news was that they had no idea just how many that
the terrorists had already fired off out of this massive stockpile. But it also meant that they
wouldn't have to worry about hitting the majority of the missiles when they attacked.
The surface-level installation now held a makeshift launch area capable of firing off 10

missiles in succession, and had been made from a building that had once be a reinforced center
for training aircraft pilots.
The terrorists had gutted all 5 stories and used the reinforced structure itself as a baffle for the
missiles' blast-off, directing most of the flames, force, and massive amounts of smoke away from
the rest of the facility through vents that led outside.
A massive elevator directly east of the building was used to raise and lower the components of
the missiles for placement in this 'launching pen'. It was important to time their attack when the
elevator was closed to ensure that just in case there WAS an accident with other missiles, then the
majority wouldn't be set off accidentally. A small, 2-story building just to the east of the elevator
housed the machinery and generators dedicated to the operation of the elevator.
The 3-story command center was located to the south of both the elevator-machine shack. It
looked to be another story taller with all the radar-tracking and sensor arrays that continually
turned on their own axis on the roof, which picked up much larger relays at regular distance in
each cardinal direction. The command center was the nerve center of the entire complex, and was
the main target of one team as well as the secondary target of 2 other teams. It was CRUCIAL
that it be taken, as it housed the computers that controlled the complex and the missiles.

To the west of the command center lay the White Sands Machine Shop, where everything from
ordinary ball bearings and custom couplings could be made within it's 3-story, sprawling
structure. The top floor was dedicated to crafting electronic equipment and was the equal of
anything found in the famed Silicon Valley of California before it vanished beneath dozens of
tidal waves and tsunamis.
To the south of the command center was the base's armory. Although it hadn't been updated for
a dozen years before the current crisis, the terrorists had used its stores to augment their own
cobbled-together firepower.
South of the armory were a half-dozen tenements which now housed the terrorists in their
barracks which had once been used for security guards and military officers. The single building
in the middle that had once housed the terrorists in barracks once had been the base's PX, but had
been stripped of anything of value and largely abandoned afterwards.
To the west of the housing tenements and south of the machine shop was the large building
that served as it's motor pool. The military vehicles, power armors, and the occasional giant robot
were, ironically, largely left alone save for the more conventional construction equipment that the
rag-tag band of terrorists used to keep the interior of the base clear of the gray goop. It was their
lucky break that the terrorists didn't seem to have many among their number trained in how to use
them.
To the south of the motor pool was a building that served as both lounge, bar, and physical
fitness center for the base, as well as the main parking lot. A few vehicles belonging to the base
personnel remained, but now it served a far larger group of civilian vehicles belonging to the

terrorists, having served their purpose in getting the rag-tag army to the base.
To the east of the lounge and south of the housing complex were the generator plants that
supplied all their power, generated by a series of 6 mini-nuclear reactors in an L-shaped group of
2 buildings.
Nestled in the crook of this 'L' was the relatively small communications building. It was only
useful now for communication within a 5-mile area. No longer did it enjoy inter-net DSL or
satellite link-ups. But this was enough for the terrorists to maintain communication amongst
themselves within the base. It also served to house the base's small security center.
Directly south of both the parking lot and the communication building, and centered directly
between them, was the first of two sets of of large, alloyed, security doors that served as the only
direct entrance to the base.
To either side of the double-entrance sat a reinforced guard's nest, each holding a quartet of
heavily armed guards, including one pair manning light rail guns, mounted on tri-pods that were
anchored into the plasticrete nests themselves.
The entire facility, save for that single entrance, was surrounded by a reinforced plasticrete
wall, 10 feet thick and 40 feet tall. At each of the 4 corners of the base was an elevated guard
tower that rested another 10 feet above the wall. Each of these towers was an additional 5 feet
thick and sported a rail-gun on a tripod similar to those of the guard shacks', manned by a 2-man
crew and a terrorist guard with a laser rifle, all under a covered roof which sported large
searchlights. The searchlights continually swept the area near the complex, slightly improving
visibility in the murky weather.

Tim took aim at the tower with the HUD display inside the Chromium Guardsman's helmet. It
was a cutting-edge, self-contained sensor package with one goal in mind: to find and track targets
for the G-10 Electromagnetic Cannon. Everything built into the Chromium Guardsman was built
to support the huge weapon. The helmet and the computer-jack in the back of his neck allowed
Tim to insert a data node that connected him to the most sophisticated power armor on earth, and
thence to it's massive, 10-foot-long, 867 pound "Boom Gun." in the armor, Tim stood at nearly 10
and 1/2 feet tall, with shoulders 4 feet, 4 inches long. The laser-resistant coating came from the
unique forging of the armor by bonding alloys at a molecular level, creating the strongest alloy
known to man. The design also allowed for full articulation and movement for the pilot.
It's reflective, silver surface also left it highly visible, which is why Keith had chosen not to
opt for a stealth mission on his part.
Tim triggered the Boom-Gun and the mere act tripped relays all along the Chromium
Guardsman, deploying hoe-hooks at the front of the armor's massive feet which dug into the
earth, at the same time the heels of those feet deployed it's laser-pylons, driving them 4 and 1/2
feet into the ground before each pylon deployed 3 upward-curving hooks like anchors into the
solidly frozen ground below. The 5 directional, thrusting jump-jets mounted on the armor's back

oriented to the opposite direction that the muzzle of the Boom-Gun was pointing, ready to fire the
instant that it fired, providing anti-recoil from the massive weapon. Without them, even with the
anchors in place, the 1.2 ton power armor would be knocked back, off it's feet, about 30 feet when
it was fired. The G-10 really was THAT powerful.
It was easy for Tim to center the laser-targeting on the guard operating the spotlight, aligning
the red cross-hairs. The telescopic sights actually allowed Tim to see the guard's eyes widen as
the spotlight flashed brilliantly off of his shining armor. At the same instant, Tim's finger
tightened on the trigger, firing the Boom Gun.
The shot disintegrated the spotlight, traveling on to strike the guard behind it. The guard's
light, police-style, riot body armor was almost no protection at all against a direct hit from the
200 steel projectiles the Boom Gun unleashed. The terrorist guard's body was reduced to a thin
pink mist of blood and bone. Nothing solid was left.
The shot was heard for miles in all directions as the gray-goop was lifted briefly into the air in
an ever-widening radius from the Chromium Guardsman's position out to a full city block's radius
as the shockwave from the deafening sonic report made when the 11-pound, sabot discarding
round exited the muzzle of the weapon at Mach 3, instantly breaking the sound barrier multiple
times.
The 11-pound casing of the single shell fell away on exiting the barrel, splitting its contents
into 4 bundles of 50 rounds each, which then split into their 50 separate component sections.
Each of the total 200 projectiles were 1-inch steel slugs, each moving at Mach 3.
Even with the modern-alloyed light armor, it was a small wonder that the guard didn't stand a
chance. The shot hadn't only shredded the steel spotlight like so much wet tissue paper, it also
tore away most of the roof.

Tim's armor automatically ejected the spent, 11-pound link-casing from the back of his armor
while a fresh round was forced into place in the barrel of the Boom Gun. It was an automatic
cycle that would keep putting ammo in the weapon until they were all spent or the link-belt was
cut. The ammo drum held a total of 100 rounds of the shells. It was a small wonder why only 10
of the Chromium Guardsmen had nearly destroyed an entire nation's armed forces only months
ago.
Carl Mandrake winced. Even with his NEMA "Roscoe" Power Armor's protected hearing, the
shot had been LOUD! Damned loud at that. He had FELT the vibration of the sonic wave's
passing as it moved through his position, even through the armor.
Harry stood in the sudden darkness, firing his grenade launcher in the wake of Tim's BoomGun. It sounded positively PUNY compared to the shattering sound that Tim's weapon had made,
but it held an aspect that Tim's weapon lacked. Tim was able to angle his weapon up so that he
could actually drop a grenade directly into the rail-gun nest.

The explosion sent one of the gun crew flying out of the rail-gun nest, 60 feet above,
screaming as he fell all 3 stories to the frozen ground outside. The screaming cut off abruptly.
The gunner himself, however, apparently still felt game as he fired off a 60-round burst of
ferrous slugs from his rail gun. The weapon sounded like a machine gun on full automatic as it
quickly spewed it's lethal payload out into the darkness at speeds approaching Mach 3.
Unfortunately for him, disoriented and guessing on Tim's location from where he was last seen,
he managed only to plough up the gray goop a full 20 feet to Tim's left as the Chromium
Guardsman took aim again.
Carl grit his teeth as the second shockwave within 6 seconds passed through him, rattling his
teeth even inside his armor, but the protected hearing kept him from going deaf at least.
The Boom-Gun round punched clear through the reinforced plasticrete wall in front of the railgun mount in nearly a perfect circle, severing the rail-gun's support, and smashed the guard back
against the far wall.
The plasticrete, thick and 10 times stronger than reinforced concrete, saved his life, but left his
armor hanging from him in shreds, and he struggled to draw breath through several broken ribs.
Until Harry's next grenade landed right in his lap. He tried to reach for it with two broken
arms. The shrapnel it released in the explosion put an end to his suffering.
Carl nearly dropped instinctively into a crouch when the guards from both of the guard shacks
at the southern end of the base, now alerted by the loud firefight, opened fire towards them.
One rail gun chewed up gray goop inches to Carl's left, narrowly missing the open crate of
grenades. The other actually struck sparks from Tim's Chromium Guardsman's super-tough armor
as the spotlight on the far tower illuminated the small group, revealing them at last to the
terrorists. Tim was in trouble, as he had to uproot his supports and plant them again before he
could fire the Boom-Gun at this new threat.
Their advantage of gaining visibility didn't last long, however, as Aaron Willington stood from
behind the concealment of a bank of snow, aiming his NEMA ML-50 Mini-missile Rifle.
"Ah, ah! No peeking!"
The plasma mini-missile trailed a column of smoke in the freezing air as it climbed to slam
into the spotlight on the southeast corner, illuminating Squad 1. It slammed squarely into the
spotlight, detonating into a fireball nearly as hot as the surface of the sun itself. The fireball
engulfed both the spotlight and the terrorist manning it, as well as setting fire to the roof of the
guard tower itself.

The illumination of the spotlight vanished in an instant, and the fire on their roof ruined the
guards' night vision, as well as, understandably, panicking them

Dani Alpo calmly stood out from behind the same snowbank as Aaron and sighted down the
scope of her NEMA LGR-360 Laser Rifle and Grenade Launcher before firing a single grenade
with the same skill that had earned her a bronze medal for sharpshooting 4 years ago.
The grenade flew through the same thin gap that the rail-gun poked out of, exploding into
shrapnel as it landed within, killing the rail-gun loader and shredding the armor of the gunner. As
the gunner tried desperately to swing the heavy rail gun about, into position, Aaron fired a second
plasma mini-missile. The entire top of the guard tower exploded into fiery incandescence as the
gunner was bathed in flames, silencing the weapon before it could fire again.
With the tower neutralized, Dani and Aaron grabbed their gear and began moving to assist the
others at the gates.
Sabrina detached the Magnum Rail Gun to the right of the Gunbuster Power Armor's spotlight
as she stood, shaking off the gray goop that had covered her as she lay still. She turned on the
spotlight as she stood, aiming it at the guard shacks, blinding the terrorists there after the sudden
darkness again descended, and completely overloading any night-vision that any of them might
have been using. Before they recovered, she used the Magnum Rail Gun to spray the guard shack
with a 30-round burst.
The guard that was firing a laser rifle in Harry's position wasn't wearing any armor whatsoever
save for a bullet-proof vest. He went down in a spray of blood as several of the rail gun rounds
pierced his body where he wasn't wearing armor, leaving clean holes from front to back, 1 inch in
diameter.
The 2-man gun crew inside their nest survived as dozens of the steel rail gun rounds, pumped
rapidly, one at a time, through the Magnum rail gun which rattled like a machine gun in Sabrina's
hands, tearing holes into the surface of the plasticrete barrier, but failing to penetrate.
Still blinking, the 2-man crew hurried to re-orient their rail gun on Sabrina's position, but were
so preoccupied with her that neither saw Andy Luke's NEMA Silver Eagle SAMAS swooping in
overhead until he was already firing his rail gun through their roof and into their nest itself. Andy
was using the more-powerful SAMAS rail gun, a twin for the one that the terrorists were trying to
fire on Sabrina. 60 steel slugs ripped into them within their 'protected' position. Both men jerked
as several slugs tore through them, leaving them slumped over their weapon before they could
fire it again.
As Tim, re-anchored again, used his Boom-Gun to settle the question of how to uproot the
western guard shack, Aaron and Dani joined Samantha on her walk towards the gate. As Tim unanchored himself again to follow, Harry made sure the shack was out of order by lobbing in two
more grenades, directly into the shack, obliterating it.
Carl handed Harry a fresh cylinder of grenades and took the spent one from him to reload
from the crate. Harry slapped it into the revolving grenade launcher and primed the first one.
They were using a lot of firepower out here, but it was needed in order to keep the terrorists'
attention focused on them and not elsewhere.

Satisfied that his weapon was ready again, and grinning at all the explosive mayhem, Harry
slung the revolving grenade launcher over his shoulder. Chuckling, he removed a trio of large
explosive charges out of his demolitions bag along with a timer and headed for the gate.
Carl rolled his eyes and hoped to heaven that this pyromaniac knew what he was doing.

*****

Tim's Boom-Gun was the signal that Team 2 had been waiting for inside the heavily armed
APC. Keith turned on the bright lights on the APC as he shoved the throttle to full power. All 8 of
the oversized, 8-foot-tall, tires churned in the gray goop for a moment before the APC shot
forward, gaining speed at it approached it's full speed of 80 MPH. It gained speed and
momentum, even as it ploughed through uneven stretches of gray goop, heading straight for the
perimeter wall.
Matt Green worked the MX-422 , Double-Barreled, High-Powered Laser Cannon mounted on
top of the APC on a turret, firing it straight at the thick, reinforced plasticrete wall.
Riana had her target locked in and fired a quartet of plasma mini-missiles from the upright
"stacked" mini-missile launchers on either side of the APC's nose.
The terrorist guards in the northeast tower brought their searchlight to focus on the
approaching APC just in time to see a volley of mini-missiles arc, adjusting their flight paths and
snaking around each other as they came to bear on their gun position.
Showing considerably more intelligence than most of the other terrorists, this trio in the
northeast tower decided to take their chances with a 60-foot fall from their high position rather
than trust in the solidity of their nest.
The top 15 feet of the tower vanished in a ball of flame that, for one brief moment, outshone
the brightness of the hidden sun as it was blasted apart, showering red-hot pieces of itself over a
full square-mile of the base and the desert.
The northwest tower's rail gun chattered a stream of ferrous slugs, gouging the APC's thick
armor on it's passenger side. The impact shook the APC, but didn't stop it. The alloyed armor was
strong enough to take the punishment for a little while. What was important was to get to the spot
on the wall that Matt kept firing on as they rode. The laser cannon burned and melted the
plasticrete, which fell in smoking blobs as large as bowling balls into the gray goop. The flaming
gobs turned the ash-laden snow instantly into steam where they struck, but still the stubborn stuff
held the wall together. Keith waited until they were within 50 feet of the wall, hoping this would
work or else they were in for a lousy evening. At the last moment, he sent a volley of 6 high
explosive mini-missiles firing from the top-mounted mini-missile launcher, aiming directly for
the spot that Matt had been targeting.

The mini-missiles that led the way did the trick. The high explosive mini-missiles blasted a
wide hole, causing the entire section to fall in on itself.
"Hold tight!" shouted Keith as he hit the pile of rubble like a ramp, the huge, 40-foot long
APC leaping the barricade inside. The APC became briefly airborne, all 8 wheels revving beneath
it. They landed with bone-jarring force as all 20 tons slammed back down on the asphalt inside
the base. Sparks flew off in all directions as Keith fought for control of the big vehicle.
Everything was in pandemonium. Keith could understand why, as well as why the remaining
rail gun stopped firing at them. The section of the wall that they had opened was right next to the
holding pen for the nuclear missiles. The missiles were between the APC and the rail-gun nest.
Understandably, the gunners were reluctant to send rail gun rounds tearing through those.
"Matt! Take out that rail gun nest, NOW!" shouted Keith.

Matt grinned. Never ask a sharp-shooter if he thought if he could make an impossible shot.
Just tell him to take it and stand back.
Matt fired between 2 of the tallest missiles with the laser cannons, ripping right through the
gun nest and the men inside it, firing the beams right through the narrow slit that the rail gun
poked out of. He stopped shooting after the 3rd blast, leaving the guard tower a burning, smoking
ruin.
"Riana! Tell me that you've acquired the 2nd target!" said Keith as he sent a single
fragmentary mini-missile slamming into a knot of terrorists that were trying to mass a resistance
in the middle of the street. They vanished in a cloud of smoke and shrapnel, although their
screams were quite easy to still hear; the ones belonging to the ones that survived the missile's
blast at any rate.
Riana touched a few controls, locking in the target as she said, "Locked! Ready to fire!"
"FIRE!"
Two more plasma mini-missiles raced from the top turret, leaving contrails of white smoke as
they angled to the dedicated elevator generator, which was one of the only two ways to reach the
larger, underground storage facility. The simple cinder-block and steel building disintegrated,
taking the generator with it. The large elevator that had been bringing up nuclear missiles wasn't
going to be working for quite some time now.
"Good shot! Now come on, we're going to secure the lower floor of the command center and
keep those 'Broken Arrows' from being launched. Green? You see anyone trying to get in our way,
feel free to shoot them," growled Keith Walker.
"'Broken arrow?'" asked Riana Creed.
"That's military slang for a nuclear missile that's gone missing," explained Matt.

"It happens often enough that they have a name for it?" asked Riana, incredulous.
"Makes you think, all right," agreed Matt.

As they heard the reports from Tim Darkmoon's Boom-Gun, Squad 4 went into action.
Big Wade and Shemp led the way, with Raven and Savannah following with the rest of their
equipment.
Even with his Roscoe power armor on, it's powerful exoskeleton adding to his strength and
speed, Wade couldn't keep up with Shemp as they charged the east wall, Shemp's cybernetic legs
carrying him along the difficult terrain at 45 MPH.
With distractions hitting the terrorists from both north and south, no one seemed to be looking
as the small party on foot approached the wall.
Shemp reached the wall just as Riana's volley of mini-missiles exploded on the northeast
tower, leaving it in billowing flames, but not before his cybernetic eyes spotted the men jump for
safety. Shemp cursed as he saw them land on the EAST side. The same side they were using to
sneak up on the base.
Shemp knew they couldn't afford to have even one of them having a radio and using it to send
a warning. He took aim with his "Hot-Seat" Plasma Rifle and shot them, one at a time, as they
tried to regain their footing in the snow. They were all dead by the time that Big Wade arrived
with his vibro fire-ax in hand.
Wade gave Shemp a hard look, but said nothing. He knew Shemp really hadn't a choice. He
couldn't let anyone radio in about their group if the plan was going to work... but he didn't have to
like the necessity. He'd joined NEMA Fire & Rescue to SAVE lives, not to take them.
Wade decided to take out his frustrations on the wall itself, compliments of his ax. Taking it
with both hands, he quickly began to hew a hole in the plasticrete wall with the ax.
Even knowing the vibro-ax had been designed to cut through just such materials as well as
softer ones, Raven still found it impressive as hell to see the was that Wade tore open the wall,
making it into a mini-tunnel that was nearly complete by the time that she and Savannah arrived.
As Savannah and Raven took rear-guard, Shemp put away his plasma rifle and began hefting
the larger pieces of debris out of the way, using his greater strength, throwing them out into the
snow as Wade cut them free.
"We're through," said Wade as he pushed a large chunk of plasticrete back to Shemp. Shemp
picked it up and chucked it with the small mound of others.
Now the air was filled with the sounds of explosions and screams from inside the base. There
were rail gun bursts, single and automatic gunfire, shouts, and, over it all, the sound of Tim's
massive Boom-Gun. Even from over 1/2 a mile away, the sound was loud enough to momentarily

drown out all other sounds. Wade doubted very much that anyone had heard the relatively quiet
sound of him cutting through the wall through all that.
Shemp and Raven moved to take point with their laser rifles out and ready. Unlike a plasma
rifle, like the one that Shemp had used earlier, or a grenade, the lasers were completely silent
when they were fired. The weird noises that took place in those old movies were simply fiction.
People then expected to actually hear a weapon when it fired. The silent weapons made them the
perfect choice for this covert operation.
It was up to their squad to take and secure the second floor of the command center, where the
computers that linked to all of the warheads, aiming and arming them after they were launched.
Raven saw only 1 terrorist on this side of the building, a woman taking cover while firing an
old-fashioned AKM Assault Rifle to the south. She was so distracted that she hadn't even seen
them. Raven cut her in half with 1 shot.
With his off-hand, Wade pulled a vibro-knife as he and Shemp approached the rear wall of the
command center at a run. Shemp slung his other rifle and flexed his hands, popping free his
vibro-claws from their forearm housings.
Wade's enhanced jump was nearly as high as Shemp's as he dug in with both ax and knife,
driving them home in the wall to create purchase points with one hand and then the other, using
arm strength to pull him upwards. Shemp merely dug in with his claws and cybernetic fingers,
worming them into the plasticrete with sheer strength.
Although Shemp's strength gave him an advantage, Wade was trained in this proceedure of
climbing, so they proceeded upwards at an identical pace.
Resembling a pair of gigantic spiders, the two men moved upwards on the side of the building
as Raven and Savannah crouched at the bottom of it, their weapons covering the corners in case a
terrorist decided to come around. Being seen now was NOT an option.
Wade's training paid off, and he reached the top of the wall first, having trained for just this
sort of climbing, and for buildings that were on fire to boot. But he didn't beat Shemp topside by
much.
Peering over the edge of the roof before committing himself to climbing out onto it, Wade saw
the guard. He was readying what looked to be a bazooka to use on the approaching APC.

*****

Wade aimed the Roscoe Power Armor's finger torch at the guard as he tried to lift the heavy
weapon into a firing position. The terrorist dropped the weapon a moment later as he looked
down at himself in confusion. There was a line burned across the front of his shirt. Then his top

half toppled forward, dropping off of the front of the building. The terrorist's legs remained
standing while Wade clambered onto the roof before collapsing onto their sides. The laser torch
had cauterized the grisly wound, leaving the gory half-body completely without bleeding from
the horrific wound. Wade had to remind himself that there was little choice, and that the man had
been about to open fire on his friends.
He got to his feet and turned in time to give Shemp a hand onto the rooftop. Shemp glanced
once at the lower part of the corpse and at the discarded rocket launcher before turning his back
on the sight, outright ignoring it. He wasn't going to be the one that made Wade feel any guiltier
about doing what had to be done.
Shemp took the rope they had brought with them and let Big Wade tie loops in the end before
tossing it over the side to the girls waiting below.
Big Wade un-slung his NEMA SLR-250 "Sharpshooter" Laser Rifle so he could cover
everyone as Shemp waited for Savannah and Raven to loop the loops about their waists before he
used his cyborg strength to begin hoisting them upwards, hand over hand. Even together, the girls'
weight was nowhere near Shemp's 450 pound frame. His cybernetics might be strong and
durable, but he was far from being lightweight.
Raven and Savannah held their breaths as Shemp lifted them upwards. This was the time that
both of them were their most vulnerable, unable to defend themselves, and they both knew it.
It was an odd place to strike up a conversation.
"So, you and Shemp... you're a 'thing', right?" asked Raven, surprising Savannah.
"Strange place to be having 'girl-talk', isn't it?" asked Savannah. The way they were being
brought up to the roof left them pressed front-to-front, and pressed together like lovers, which
made Savannah wonder about Raven's sudden interest and her sexual orientation when she
thought about her question.
Raven chuckled as she said, "Don't worry. I don't swing THAT way, either. I've just noticed
how Shemp and you have been looking at each other since the storm broke. Plus, I figure that if
you two are an 'item', then he's a lot less likely to drop us."
Savannah knew that she was blushing under her helmet's face-plate, and that the clear plasticalloy visor did little to hide it. As strange a place as it was, the two shared one of those moments
of perfect understanding between women, regardless of the difference in their ages. It was a
moment that a man would likely miss, even if he were paying attention.
"You and Wade?" Savannah ventured.
"What? Oh, no. wade flirts a lot, but we... haven't... you know... yet... that is...," said Raven,
finding her own face flushing now.
Savannah chuckled and said, "Give it time, Sweetie. If its meant to happen, it will. I've learned
that much at least. Trust me on this."

Shemp nearly had them to the top when he noticed that they were chatting like a couple of
schoolgirls that were standing in a corner. He shook his head in wonder of how women could
strike up a conversation no matter where they were or what was going on around them. It HAD to
be a girl thing.
The door to the roof was thrown open with a slam that drew both men's attention. Both Wade
and Shemp were surprised, thinking that no one yet knew they were here. A group of 6 men
charged onto the roof from the open door, all wearing partial, police-style body armor and, worse
yet, carrying an assortment of heavy weapons.
Big Wade shot the first one in the chest with his laser rifle, but only staggered the man as his
armor did it's job and absorbed the energy of the attack, leaving behind a charred area the size of
a dinner plate.
5 of the 6 took what cover they could among the radio and radar towers as they began
returning fire, mainly with M-2011 Heavy Ion Pistols. Where they had gotten THOSE energy
weapons were a mystery to Wade. They were almost exclusively used by the Navy and Marines,
not any post in the desert.
The last of the 6 terrorists, however, dropped to one knee and raised a ROCKET
LAUNCHER, aiming it directly at Shemp.
Shemp's eyes widened as he saw the rocket fire at him, knowing that he couldn't let go of the
rope without letting the girls plunge down 3 stories to asphalt. He did the only thing he could; he
lowered one of his hands over the side of the building to protect them and the rope he held in the
hand from what he knew was coming.
Raven and Savannah clutched each other, screaming, at the sudden, short plunge as the shock
wave and noise from the explosion above rocked them in place, swinging them back and forth
and bouncing them most uncomfortably off of the wall while plasticrete, torn lose from the
explosion, showered them from above... from where Shemp had just been...
"SHEMP!" cried Savannah, a vice closing about her heart as she stared at where a rolling
cloud of smoke and flames broiled from where Shemp had been standing only moments ago as he
raised them up, hand-over-hand.
In spite of their precarious position, Savannah began trying to climb up the rope. It was
impossible with Raven attached to her as well, plus the lack of any footing, now that she planned
to let THAT stop her. Nothing else mattered. All rational thought had fled in the face of her
concern for him.
"Calm down!" shouted Raven as she tried to shake Savannah, succeeding only is twirling them
both on the end of their rope, but finally managing to capture Savannah's distraught attention, "He
is still there!"
The last shout seemed to get past Savannah's panic. She looked with uncomprehending eyes

into Raven's face.

"Think! If he was gone, we'd be falling to the ground! He's got to still be up there," explained
Raven. She saw Savannah look back up the rope with hopeful eyes.

Roger lowered his rocket launcher with a cry of triumph, shouting, "BULLSEYE!"
That idiot hadn't even TRIED to get out of the way of the rocket he had just shot at him. No
way had anyone human managed to survive THAT. Which meant that it was now 1 down and 1 to
go.
Roger turned to figure out which of the towers that the big invader had taken cover behind
while the other 5 kept him pinned down with those energy pistols. They had taken those from the
armory here at White Sands, and damned if they weren't useful toys after all. Even if they did
remind Roger of the old-fashioned Uzi machine guns in design, but they packed a bit more
punch.
Roger opened the canvass pouch at his left hip and began to withdraw one of the 6 spare
rockets in it. One more shot... two tops... and the threat up here that they had seen on the closedcircuit security cameras would be history. Then they could take care of those maniacs below in
that big old armored car with 8 wheels.
Roger didn't see what looked to be a miniature grappling hook fly out of the cloud of smoke,
hooking onto the rocket launcher that the terrorist that had originally been guarding the roof had
dropped, or see it get pulled back into the cloud of smoke as he fit the new rocket into the end of
his own rocket launcher.
Without warning, a rocket roared OUT of the cloud of smoke-shrouded ruin of the roof where
he'd shot the foot-soldier. Roger only had enough time to realize that the rocket wasn't aimed at
him, directly at any rate, but at the pouch of explosive rockets at his side.
Big Wade found himself knocked to the roof by the force of the second explosion, which
rocked the entire building and sent a fiery plume upwards in what looked like a small mushroom
cloud. That one would have been felt to the building's very foundations.
Thankfully his heavy armor kept him from being stunned by the wall of force that swept
outwards and over him. It had been so powerful that, at first, he had thought that one of the
warheads in the launching pen had gone off, but he quickly reasoned that since he was still
breathing that this was an unlikely scenario.
Wade scrambled to his feet, but could see nothing but thick smoke and the occasional,
guttering fire from the explosion. He adjusted his Roscoe armor's HUD display inside his helmet
so that he could use thermal vision. The smoke vanished, to be replaced by colors ranging from
blue-black (the coldest sections) to reds, oranges, yellows, and whites (hot and steady heat).
Wade saw that 3 of the terrorists that had been shooting at him were rapidly cooling, a sure

sign that they weren't ever going to be making trouble for anyone else again. One seemed to be
missing or covering a wide section of the roof. Two appeared dazed, but were still moving.
He left his laser rifle where it had fallen from his hands and snatched the vibro fire-ax from his
belt as he took 3 running strides forward and leapt into the air, the Roscoe's exoskeleton
propelling him upwards with inhuman ability.
The first remaining terrorist coughed as he crawled towards where his M-2011 lay. He had lost
his gas mask in the explosion and the combination of smoke and the gagging stench that always
permeated the air now were his to enjoy without the aid of his mask's filters.
Wade fell from above like an avenging angel, driving his ax down with his momentum and
augmented strength adding to the blow. He landed on his feet right beside the crawling terrorist,
driving the vibro-ax into the armor covering his spine with such force that the man's heels and the
back of his head thumped together as the man simply folded around it. His death was messy and
immediate.
Wade wrenched his ax free from the roof just in time to be struck in the back by a shot from
the remaining terrorist's M-2011 ion pistol.
Wade spun, seeing the terrorist standing in front of a radar tower that leaned drunkenly
towards the front of the building, away from the force of the second explosion as he adjusted his
aim at Big Wade.
Wade accepted the hit, trusting in his armor to protect him as he hefted his vibro-ax and threw
it. The ax spun twice before hitting the terrorist in the chest, the blade tearing through his partial
armor as it lifted the man off of his feet and pinned him to one of the radar tower's metal supports
like a bug in someone's glass display case.
Wade left him hanging there as he rushed over to where Shemp lay. He was a mess.
The rocket had shredded his NEMA standard body armor, which was still dropping in pieces
to the roof as it fell apart. Even the rigid metal sections were shattered. The armor had taken the
brunt of the damage, but by no means all of it. Shemp's cybernetic body had survived, but his
false skin had been shredded and melted by the blast, leaving the metal of his prosthetic arms and
legs clearly visible. Wade was just glad his buddy had chosen today to wear clean underwear.
One of Shemp's arms hung out over the precipice, locked in a death-grip around the nylon
rope. The other arm held the now-empty rocket launcher that the original terrorist had dropped
when he had died.
Wade grabbed the rope from Shemp and began hauling the girls the rest of the way up.
"NEVER assume that an opponent is out of the fight until you see the body," Shemp groaned.
The girls scrambled over the top as soon as they were able, Savannah's eyes darting in their
frantic search for Shemp.

*****

DAYS OF THE APOCALYPSE (Part 6)

Luckier Nugget Saloon, Main Street, Silver City, New West,

New Mexico Territory (Old American Empire), May 3rd, 105 P.A.

Meggy waved a fan at Heather's face. She'd nearly fainted when Mandrake had read the part of
the story where Shemp had been hit by the rocket. Lady Priscilla had quickly vacated her seat and
joined Meggy's efforts, much to Ginger's embarrassment and Ruffy's humor.
"I'd often wondered where all the radioactive zones came from," said Martin.
"How many missiles did they fire off before the heroes got there?" asked Lee.
"The book doesn't say, and the author probably didn't know, if he were, indeed, one of the
heroes that this story is about," said Joe Stalker.
"True," said Wolf, "If you remember, they had those bad boys ready BEFORE the storm, and it
took them 2 days to get there. It would be impossible to guess. I hear some of those missiles had
quite a range on them."
"Like inter-continental," said Lee, "Means that some could reach as far away as most
European countries... what you call the NGR these days, and even further. Many were
SPECIFICALLY designed to reach that distance, although it sounds like they had a real mishmash of types. They had ICBM missiles, ones that were supposed to be launched from
submarines and ships, and even a few that were supposed to be launched a much shorter distance,
from land vehicles that moved in closer to the targets."
"It's a stupid idea to use nukes," said Squat, "Even the Coalition States won't use theirs. The
radiation stays around in some cases for hundreds of years."
"Or thousands," said Mandrake, "A lot of these missiles were made during my time, during the
era we called the Cold War. I remember that some of the radioactive particles produced by them
last much longer than just centuries."
"Those terrorists must have been mad," opinionated Lasher as he stood next to Wanita.
"I believe it is a family trait that has survived as long as the family itself," said Martin.
"I don't know if we should keep letting Heather listen to this story," said Ruffy, "I mean, that

scare with Shemp nearly made her faint, and I can't get past the feeling that there has to be a
reason we haven't ever heard of anyone named Fine or Adams here in Silver City."
"NO! Don't you DARE, Ruffy," protested Heather, "I want to hear the rest of this story!"

Ginger looked to Lady Priscilla who shrugged and said, "She is an adult, and she will
doubtless ask until she finds out. I just ask Heather to understand that this story is history, and as
such may well not have a happy ending."
Heather bit her lip, but nodded. She SO wanted a happy ending for Shemp and Savannah, and
for Big Wade and Raven, too. They sounded like nice people. They deserved a happy ending.
Mandrake took one last sip of his mead before beginning to read again.

White Sands, New Mexico, March 6th, 2099,

103 Days After the Coming of the Rifts,
3 Months, 16 Days
1:00 A.M., Command Center Rooftop

"It's not pretty," came Shemp's voice from the shadows to her right.
Shemp stepped out of the shadow, revealing the damage wrought to him by the terrorist's
rocket. He honestly had no idea what Savannah's reaction would be when she saw what he looked
like under his synthetic skin. With the skin, he could pass for an ordinary human unless he used
one of his cybernetic weapons, but without it he stood revealed with the artificial limbs showing
clearly save for the hand that had been tucked behind the wall to protect their rope. The metal
reinforcements at his shoulders, hips, and along the length of his spine could be clearly seen as
well, grafted to his flesh.
Not that the artificial skin was entirely gone, but it still existed only in ghastly ribbons that
bedecked him. He knew he had to look like hell.
The last thing that Shemp expected was for Savannah to throw herself into his arms and begin
kissing him. Wade and Raven were good friends, and pretended not to notice or to mention the
tight time-schedule that they were under. Some things you just had to make time for to stay
human. They busied themselves with gathering the discarded weapons, both theirs and the
terrorists'.
The group had been far too well armed for just mere armed rabble. Someone was organizing
them and teaching them how to use these things. Their resistance also lent credence to their being

organized. Either their element of surprise had worn off incredibly quickly or else there had been
something else that wasn't here originally, something that they had overlooked.
Wade found it almost as soon as he started looking. The explosion had torn the camera from
the wall, in the shadows where it had been hidden, but showing the entire roof clearly. Those
hadn't been on the base's schematics they had seen at the briefing. It seemed that they had made a
few improvements and likely resistance was going to get rougher from here on.
Wade caught Raven by the shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. He'd almost lost her. The
look she gave him back told him that she understood that too. They both owed Shemp a big debt.
When Savannah finally decided to let Shemp come up for air again, he asked, "Doesn't... the
way I look... THIS... bother you?"
She punched his shoulder, doing absolutely no damage, as she said, "You big dummy! I
thought that I'd just LOST you. Am I DISTURBED by your cybernetic implants? Hell, they just
SAVED you for me. I LOVE them... and you."
Savannah grabbed him in a hug, as if she never intended to let her go again. Shemp smiled.
That single statement, coming from this wonderful woman, was, flat-out, the most
WONDERFUL thing that he had ever heard. He held her with his metal arms and, for the first
time, didn't care that they weren't flesh and blood. He was just glad he could hold her at all.
They all turned their heads as the front gate was blown off of its hinges, compliments of Harry
Cassidy's planted explosives. It got them moving again. Time was running short and things were
getting busy. But Shemp went about it with a smile on his face now.

White Sands, New Mexico, March 6th, 2099,

103 Days After the Coming of the Rifts,
3 Months, 16 Days
1:05 A.M., Front Gates

As planned, as soon as the blast opened the 2nd set of gates, Dani Alpo and Aaron Willington
peeled off from the rest of the group as they rushed inside as they moved to assault the terrorists
from the south, leaving the heavy-hitters on their team to tangle with the now-alerted terrorists as
they scrambled to mount their defenses. It was obvious that they had thought that, with the
disasters going on, that no one able to do anything about them would be able to get to them, or
even be alerted.
Dani and Aaron had a more important mission. They were to keep the terrorists, who
outnumbered them by around 40 or 50 to 1, from being able to correlate their defenses and to
keep their side of this battle in as much chaos as possible. Their own helmet-radios allowed them

to stay in short-range communication.

Lacking the ability to link with satellite communications anymore, the communication center
could only reach, at most, an area of 500 miles with conventional radio, even with equipment as
powerful as the base had. Even such a reduced distance was heavily disrupted by the lines of
strange, blue-white energy that towered 2 miles into the skies, and half a mile wide, each. These
'blue zones' snaked across the land with little apparent design. They were far more numerous in
the eastern part of the continent, but even in the western states of the U.S. they existed. Where
they were, communications were disrupted, especially since almost all the signal-boosting
stations were now un-powered or outright destroyed. Not to mention that the ash and volcanic
activity, causing their own ion-charged lightning storms further disrupted things.
The nuclear missiles that had been launched to God only knew where had only served to
worsen the problem with waves of radiation and electro-magnetic pulses which destroyed
unshielded electronic computer chips and disrupted radio signals.
At best, the equipment in the communications center was only effective for a 50 to 70 mile
radius. But that was more than enough for the terrorists to organize a resistance, and with their
greater numbers that was a threat that couldn't be allowed. They could stop their smaller force
dead in their tracks, even though they were, as NEMA agents, better equipped and trained. Keith
had planned to exploit their lack of discipline. According to the computer records on board the
APC, the armory at White Sands had weapons and armor just as powerful as theirs were. If the
terrorists got organized, things were going to get a LOT worse for them.
Tim let Harry and Carl lead the way, firing grenades as they went at the stubborn knots of
terrorists in their way. The Chromium Guardsman's greatest weakness was that he had to anchor
his armor before he could actually USE it. He had to also uproot himself and plant himself again
to fire at another target in another direction. Unarmored or lightly armored, they were too small as
targets went for a Chromium Guardsman to use his Boom Gun on. Like the old parable of
swatting flies with an elephant gun. Since the G-10 was the power armor's ONLY weapon, he had
to rely on the armor's great strength until he found sturdier opposition.
An idiot terrorist jumped out from behind a parked vehicle and tried to shoot Tim with a laser
rifle. Apparently the moron didn't comprehend just what the term 'laser resistant' implied. The
beam struck Tim's side and bounced off the power armor's mirror-like, chrome finish.
The terrorist looked down stupidly at the hole burned clean through him, from front to back,
before falling face-down into the gray goop.

Sabrina stomped past the imbecile without so much as a glance. She figured that, at least, he
had done the human gene pool a favor by removing himself from it. She fired her Magnum Rail
Gun, mowing down terrorists with selected bursts. The Magnum Rail Gun was far more versatile
than a Boom-Gun, if not nearly as powerful.
Andy's Silver Eagle SAMAS flew overhead, raking the enemy with well-placed bursts of his

rail gun that discouraged any of the terrorists from gathering to marshal their forces. The terrorists
had left a BIG chink in their defenses, and they were exploiting it fully. Andy was the only thing
in the air on either side of the conflict, a fact that he was utilizing with ruthless efficiency as he
picked off snipers from their positions on roofs or from windows as well, before they could
become useful to their comrades below. The thermal sensors in his armor granted him with the
ability to spot them easily, using their own body heat, no matter how well-hidden that they were.
It was ironic, therefore, that the first sign of real trouble for the NEMA operatives came
straight at Andy Luke, flying high above the rest of the battle.
The Silver Eagle SAMAS' HUD display inside his helmet blared both in his ears and before
his eyes as 4 mini-missiles headed his way. Andy corkscrewed into a dodge as he fired his railgun at the same time, sending a stream of 60 steel projectiles at the incoming missiles.
Two of the slugs managed to strike the lead incoming missile, causing it to tumble for a
moment before it turned into a ball of fire and shrapnel. The tiny bits of metal ripped into the
other small missiles, igniting them prematurely as well, until the sky and the ground below was lit
by their hellish glow.
"CRAP! These jokers have got an ace in the hole!" shouted Andy into their helmet radios,
"One of these idiots has figured out how to use a freaking MASTIFF!"

Tristan was instantly visible as he walked out from behind the Lounge and Bar building, far
too close for combat, considering the deadly payload of weapons that the huge giant robot
carried. The Mastiff Robot was the second largest that NEMA had ever made. Standing fully 15
feet tall, it was half again as tall as Tim's Chromium Guardsman, 9 feet wide through the
shoulders, and nearly as wide through it's beam.
Darkmoon instantly anchored himself with toe-hooks and laser pylons, pulling down his
Boom-Gun. The weapon's report sent terrorists on the ground scampering to run away, covering
ears that had been momentarily deafened, their cries of pain and screams the only sound they
could hear at the moment.
Tristan cursed in surprise as the entire 16 ton robot was knocked sideways. The quartet of
mini-missiles he had intended to send after the Silver Eagle SAMAS that was flitting around like
mad, instead, slammed into the communications building.
The communications center, antennas and all, went up like a cheap Chinese fireworks factory,
sending Aaron and Dani scampering away for cover, their mission abruptly ended for them in a
most unexpected way.
Warning lights and alarm claxons blaring each competed for Tristan's attention to alert him to
the Chromium Guardsman that now showed as a hostile on his sensors. He turned the Mastiff to
see just what the hell could have hit the giant robot THAT hard.

Tristan's Adam's-apple bobbed like a cork in a typhoon as he saw Tim's Chromium Guardsman
eject the 11-pound shell casing from the Boom-Gun onto a parked hover-car. It smashed through
the windshield and lay in the driver's seat in a nest of safety glass.
No one had told him that he'd have to fight one of THOSE! He'd seen the special on TV about
what those things had done down in South America only a few months ago.
"Too late now," growled Tristan as he moved the robot closer and began targeting the
Chromium Guardsman at the robot's top speed of 40 MPH. His 'fight-or-flight' syndrome had
made it's choice.
Tim became stubborn. Considering that he couldn't both fight AND move, unlike the muchheavier Mastiff, he had little choice in the matter. At only 1.2 tons, it was a modern-day version of
David and Goliath. Tim fired his Boom-Gun again, shattering every window not already broken
for hundreds of feet in all directions.
Tristan worked the Mastiff's controls like mad as the robot lurched and then staggered, losing
speed. More warning lights and alarms went off. The interior lights flickered and he smelled
smoke from somewhere, briefly, before the interior fans picked up its scent and kicked on,
sucking it our of the pilot's compartment before it could become a danger to the pilot.
Outside, most of the plated armor on the Mastiff's right, lower leg vanished as it was ripped
away by the 200 steel slugs that ripped through it in a cloud of destruction. The Mastiff barely
slowed, however.
NEMA had built the walking tank to survive almost anything. Out here, in the open, it carried
more potential firepower than even Tim's Chromium Guardsman. The thing had a built-in laser
cannon, but it's real armament was the 6 mini-missile launchers built into it, 4 in the chest and 1
on either of its massive, oversized arms. It was also intended to cause massive damage with those
hands up close and very personal, using them like massive battering rams. The giant robot
reminded Tim, vaguely, of a giant robotic Silver-back Gorilla... if they grew to be 15 feet tall.
As if confirming his worst fears, the Mastiff held out an arm and launched another quartet of
armor-piercing mini-missiles at him. Tim knew he was in trouble now. The Chromium
Guardsman's laser-resistant coating did not extend to blunt-force trauma.
At this range, Tim could only grit his teeth and hang on as his Boom-Gun cycled another of
the G-10 rounds into place automatically.
Carl Mandrake cursed as Tim vanished in the explosion, smoke and flames adding to the
constant snow and ash-fall that continued in spite of the battle taking place here, conspiring to
completely hide the results of the devastating volley of mini-missiles.
Inside the Mastiff's pilot's compartment, Tristan beat on the console in front of him, howling, a
grin stretching his cheeks as he shouted, "Oh YEAH! How do you like me NOW!?"
Tristan's celebration was cut short when Sabrina, whom had been circling to his left for a
cleaner shot, and Andy Luke, whom had managed to circle behind the giant robot, both fired their

rail guns, sending deadly streams of supersonic steel slugs stitching across his armor, striking
sparks from it as some were deflected. The sparks from the double-burst were bright enough to
throw the landscape about it into a strobe-like lighting.
In spite of their efforts, however, the Mastiff was so heavily armored that it was only a minor
annoyance.
Tristan surprised both Sabrina and Andy.
Swinging out one oversized left arm, he snapped off a volley of 4 mini-missiles at Sabrina
while swinging his right arm at Andy.

The missile-volley missed a wildly dodging Sabrina, but just barely. She found herself caught
in the explosive radius, powerful enough to send her, inside her Gunbuster Power Armor,
airborne, explosive waves pounding her back with breath-taking force. She slammed into the wall
of the generator plant, cracking the tough plasticrete wall with enough force to leave her with
bruises even inside the armor.
As bad as it was for Sabrina, for Andy it was even worse.
The Mastiff's right arm swatted him out of the sky as if he were a particularly annoying little
bird, sending him flipping head over heels to crash into the gymnasium level of the bar and
lounge.
Tristan's triumph abruptly ended as Harry Cassidy began firing his grenade launcher at the
Mastiff as fast as its revolving action would let him.
Dani Alpo flanked the explosives expert on the left, working the slide on the laser rifle's
grenade launcher as fast as she could, adding her grenades to his.
Aaron Willington planted his feet on Harry's right, raising his mini-missile rifle and sending a
plasma mini-missile directly into the Mastiff's already damaged right leg.
"Oh, Hell. Who wants to live forever, anyway?" Aaron asked to no one in particular.

Already off-balanced by his unusual dual attack on Andy and Sabrina, Tristan was unprepared
when the mini-missile scored a direct hit on the knee actuator, the flames burning cleanly through
the knee-joint as the fireball grew to engulf the Mastiff completely, heating the metal to glow a
bright cherry-red.
Tristan bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood as the right leg broke in half, crashing that
side of the robot to the ground on the half-stump that remained. It reminded him of the time he'd
been drop-kicked during wrestling class in high school.
Angry, Tristan threw himself at the controls. His new toy was getting pounded, and now they

had BROKEN it. Someone was going to pay for this!

Propping himself against the side of the bar and lunge building, and using the remaining, left,
leg, he pointed his left arm at the small group that was still firing explosives at him. Unlike the
others, THESE targets appeared to be only LIGHTLY armored. He keyed in a 3-round volley and
moved to lock in the target for them. He never made it.
Tim's Boom-Gun's report ripped away the smoke obscuring him from view. His Chromium
Guardsman's armor was dented and scorched where it had been struck, but was still very much
active and dangerous.
Tristan's attack had left Tim to find himself at the bottom of a crater after the mini-missiles had
struck, vaporizing the soil and plasticrete itself down to bare rock. He had been forced to reanchor himself after regaining his feet, but he found that everything on the armor was still
working, including his Boom-Gun.
Hidden from the Mastiff's sensors by his sudden low-profile, hip-deep in the crater, and hidden
as well by the thick pall of smoke, Tim had waited until his sensors had told him that he had a
clear shot at the giant robot before taking it.

The sensor camera in the center of the Mastiff's chest exploded as the Boom-Gun's shot
continued, ripping deeply into the robot's protective armor. Inside the Mastiff, the warnings were
doing a fair imitation of Times Square as they all seemed to be blinking warnings and blare for
his attention. With the loss of the central sensor 'eye', over half of the screens that Tristan had
been using shorted out. Fire repression equipment went off, smoothing electrical fires and
sending the exhaust fans whining into high gear as they strained to remove the smoke. But even
at full power, the stink of fried wiring and circuitry began filling the pilot's compartment.
The entire Mastiff robot was rocked backwards by the powerful blast. Tristan cursed as he
finally glimpsed the Chromium Guardsman. Seething hatred spread across his face as he began
working the controls of the Mastiff.

The Mastiff lunged forward, reaching for Tim's Chromium Guardsman in his makeshift foxhole.
Tim blasted the robot's massive hand, blowing the lower finger off altogether cleanly and
damaging the rest of the hand heavily, so badly that it kept spitting sparks and billowing smoke
even as it closed about Darkmoon's chest, trapping both his arms and the Boom-Gun.
The Mastiff's powerful servo-motors whined for a moment before it seemed to pluck Tim from
the fox-hole and his anchor points as if it were removing a stubborn daisy. With the 4 and 1/2 foot
laser pylons dangling and dripping soil, Tim was lifted into the air.
Samantha had regained her feet inside her Gunbuster and began stitching rail-gun tracks

across the Mastiff's back. As valiant an effort as it was, she was little more than a distraction.
Andy suddenly re-appeared, crashing through an upper-story window as he roared back into
the fight with his jets at full-thrust. His US SAMAS rail-gun chattered, adding his own supersonic
rounds of steel slugs to the fray as he buzzed around the armored behemoth.
Aaron lowered his mini-missile rifle with a curse. With Tim in it's clutches, he dared not use
another missile at the Mastiff. He shouldered the mini-missile rifle and un-slung the LGR-360
Laser Rifle and Grenade Launcher, bringing it to his hands to use, trusting in Tim's laser-resistant
coating on his armor to protect him from any stray shots as he opened fire again. The Mastiff was
bigger and stronger, but it lacked the Chromium Guardsman's silvery coating.

Tim knew he was in trouble. The Mastiff was bigger and stronger than he was, without a
doubt. And whether or not the pilot had meant to do it, he had just deprived Tim of his armor's
ONLY weapons system.
Even if he could manage to somehow free his Boom-Gun, he still couldn't use it because he
couldn't anchor himself...
A grin spread across Tim's face as the distracted Tristan tried to again swat Andy's Silver Eagle
SAMAS out of the air, a wicked idea coming to him. With a thought, the Chromium Guardsman's
toe hooks and laser pylons retracted sharply into the armor's feet.
The Mastiff's damaged hand was still squeezing him like a stubborn walnut, trying to crush
him in much the same way as someone would a beer can, however, with only a thumb and
forefinger left to grasp about Tim's waist, it was having trouble getting a solid grip on him. Tim
was about to add to his troubles.
Tim did a tummy-crunch, swinging up the Chromium Guardsman's oversized feet to kick
against the massively oversized forearm of the hand holding him. The moment his feet made
contact, Tim deployed the toe-hooks and laser drill pylons.

The pylons didn't care WHAT they dug into to give Tim a firm anchor. Even if it was a robotic
forearm.
The Mastiff's hand opened involuntarily as the laser-drills managed to sever the actuators that
controlled the hand's remaining finger, releasing Tim and putting an end to the crushing pressure
it had been exerting on him.
To Tristan's amazement, the Chromium Guardsman didn't fall, but seemed to be clinging to the
giant robot's arm as if it had been GLUED there! Tristan reached for the mini-missile controls,
but stopped himself. He COULDN'T use mini-missiles on the Chromium Guardsman this close to
himself! He'd only blow himself up! He knew the laser cannons weren't a good idea either. He
had read that the power armor's laser-resistant coating would likely do him damage as well.

Before he could figure out another option, Tim made the point moot when he pulled the
Boom-Gun back into line for firing position.
The G-10's payload smashed into the Mastiff's chest, ripping away entire layers of protective
armor in a 5-foot diameter circle. The recoil made the Mastiff's arm swing out wide, the kinetic
energy being transferred directly to the giant robot via the anchor points in it's right arm. Tim's
reasoning had been that since this guy liked throwing his weight around so much, then he could
throw it around a bit for HIM.
Already precariously balanced on his remaining leg, the Mastiff toppled forward, crashing
head-first into the ground.
The crash left both Tim and Tristan momentarily dazed.
Harry Cassidy saw his opening and took it, sprinting forward at 35 MPH on his new bionic
legs. He grabbed a double-load of the new fusion blocks from his satchel, practically emptying it,
as he ran up to the giant robot's right arm, where Tristan had ever-so-thoughtfully left open the
access ports to the mini-missile launcher there. Harry primed the button on top of one of the
blocks and stuffed them all around the top mini-missile.
As soon as it was in place and armed for 10 seconds, Harry put heel to toe as God had
intended a foot to work when he was shagging ass. The others had seen what the wily pyromaniac
was up to and dove for whatever cover they could find. Harry ran towards them, giggling like a
loon. NEVER underestimate the little guy!

Tristan recovered first and began to lever himself upright again in the Mastiff when the fusion
blocks went off. These, in turn, set off all the remaining 8 mini-missiles in the gigantic forearm.
The entire arm came apart at the seams, flames and expanding gasses billowing outwards,
throwing deadly shrapnel for hundreds of feet as the Mastiff crashed back to the ground again,
wreathed with flames on the left side.
Tim recovered and saw his chance as well, in spite of being connected to the Mastiff. He fired
the Boom-Gun again. The shot struck right above the elbow joint of the giant robot's remaining
arm. Already damaged, the arm was completely sheared off by the powerful blast.
Tim had to grit his teeth together to keep from biting off his own tongue as the severed arm he
was attached to fell to the ground with a bone-jarring impact.
Deprived of both arms and 1 leg, all Tristan could manage was a feeble flopping motion as
Tim retracted his anchor points and detached himself from the severed robotic limb.

Tim clambered to his feet while the others came out of hiding, including a widely-grinning
Harry Cassidy, before anchoring himself in the solidly frozen ground again. Two shots more from
his Boom-Gun severed the remaining leg, leaving him helpless.

Tristan was in a full panic. The only weapons he had left were the 4 mini-missile launchers on
the robot's chest, but those were against the ground and would blow him up before they had any
chance to hit another target. He couldn't even call for help, the Chromium Guardsman had
destroyed his radio when he had taken out the Mastiff's sensor eye.
Tristan watched in horror as, on the 2 remaining, functioning, screens available to him, while
hanging upside-down in his pilot's restraining harness, as the Chromium Guardsman, the Silver
Eagle, and the Gunbuster all converged on his position and began using their armor's fists to tear
apart what remained of the Mastiff.
Tristan pulled his M-2011 Ion Pistol from the compartment beside his seat, then stopped. Even
this weapon wouldn't stop those metal monsters out there.
Tristan finally realized that any more fighting on his part would be useless.
He hoped Kathy wouldn't miss him too much as he opened his mouth and put the barrel of the
ion pistol in his mouth. He closed his eyes and pulled the trigger.
When Tim and the others finally opened the reinforced pilot's compartment, they found
Tristan's suicide.
"Crap. I was hoping to beat the hell out of him," growled Tim as he turned away. They had too
much yet to do before they could rest again.

White Sands, New Mexico, March 6th, 2099,

103 Days After the Coming of the Rifts,
3 Months, 16 Days
1:25 A.M., Command Center

Kathy pounded her fist on the monitor that showed the fallen Mastiff, cursing her 'useless'
boyfriend with a vocabulary that would have had a sailor blushing.
How had everything gone so wrong? Where had these NEMA goons come from, anyway?
They weren't even regular army. NEMA was a law enforcement and rescue agency, for Christ's
Sakes.
She had assumed that ALL of the agencies had fallen by now, but there they were, as big as
life and twice as annoying.
Wilma watched Kathy's tirade as she clutched the rare magic book to her breast, as if it were a
shield to protect herself as she stood behind Kathy. Tristan had driven their best and most
powerful weapon, and they had demolished it and him in just under 15 minutes. If HE hadn't been

able to stop the intruders, then they were likely to make their way here as well.
Kathy interrupted her musings as she growled, "Call everyone to fall back to THIS building. I
want everyone you can still reach. Fortify the lobby and get ready for a siege. I've still got ONE
ace left up my sleeve, and I intend to play it."
Wilma took the hand-held radio, one of the ones that they had used when they had taken the
base and called to whoever was left to fall back to the command center.
Not that SHE planned on hanging around for it.

White Sands, New Mexico, March 6th, 2099,

103 Days After the Coming of the Rifts,
3 Months, 16 Days
1:25 A.M., Command Center, 3rd Floor

Shemp cautiously risked a peek around the corner before turning to look in the direction of
Wade, Raven, and Savannah. He held up two fingers, then pointed to either side of the hallway.
Over the closed channel in their helmet radios Savannah heard him whisper, "Two guards. Both in
armor. Holding M-2011s."
It seemed that the Navy Ion Pistols had become the weapon of choice among the terrorists.
Lord only knew where they had found Navy ordinance in the middle of a desert, much less in
such numbers.
Savannah was wondering why Shemp was bothering to whisper at all. With all the explosions
and screams going on outside, she didn't think that the guards would notice if he had decided to
shout at them.
"I've got the one on the right," whispered Shemp, "The rest of you take the one on the left."
Shemp used his fingers to count down from three.
Shemp turned the corner and dropped to one knee as he brought up his "Hot Seat" Plasma
Rifle. Savannah stepped out, still standing as she leveled her laser rifle over Shemp's head at the
man standing at the far side of the hall ahead.
Raven took one stride further before she mirrored Shemp's position while Wade stood over
her, aiming the same way that Savannah was.
The terrorists weren't professionals, whatever they had been 14 weeks ago. They hesitated,

staring, before they tried to raise their M-2011 Heavy Ion Pistols.
The terrorist on the left was speared with 3 laser blasts, boring right through his Navy Body
Armor as well as the man inside.
Even in her armor, Savannah felt the backwash of heat when Shemp fired his plasma rifle. The
weapon spat a flaming sphere of gas that burned at nearly the same temperature as the surface of
the sun. the paint on both the plasticrete walls of the hallway blistered and charred in the sphere's
wake as it slammed into the terrorist, setting off the sprinklers in the hallway. He screamed as he
was briefly turned into a living torch, the flames eating through his armor and into the man
beneath them. He fell as the screaming stopped.
His charred corpse on the floor held a cherry-red glow along the edges that moved slowly over
the surface, reducing what was left to ashes, even the bones burning away although they were the
last to be consumed.
Savannah felt sick, but refrained from losing the contents of her stomach by reminding herself
that these were the same people that were shooting off nuclear missiles at what little was left of
civilization and had likely killed the base's original staff. She was glad, however, that her airtight
helmet kept her from smelling what was left of the terrorist as the sprinklers washed away the ash
that used to be a man.

Shemp took the point position, scooping up the M-2011 pistol that hadn't been charred beyond
use and handed it back to Savannah. He waved for everyone to stop before the stairs that led
downwards towards the 2nd floor, their goal.
Shemp dropped to his stomach and reached between the stair's banisters with his free hand, the
left hand. The fingernail on his index finger lifted on it's own, releasing a small camera to raise
out of the tiny cavity. Shemp's cyber-eyes developed a small window in his upper-right vision,
showing what the camera was showing him from the end of his finger. It had taken him a while to
master watching both perspectives without getting sea-sick. He then poked the finger alone under
the railing, resting it against the roof of the floor below.
He frowned and scuttled back to join the others, the tiny camera slipping back into hiding
under his fingernail. Savannah made a mental note to make sure that thing wasn't on the next time
she and he were... intimate. Who knew? He might have a recorder in it or something.
"This isn't good. They know someone's here now. There's at least 12 terrorists, all armored and
heavily armed, waiting for us with their weapons trained on the stairwell. The second they see us,
they're going to try to fry us."
"How are we supposed to get by something like THAT?" asked Savannah.
"Any room behind them that they aren't watching? And are there any rooms? Ones that don't
look like they're occupied?"

"Yeah... there's a ladies' bathroom to their left, maybe 15 or 20 feet behind them. But I don't
think they're going to let us use the facilities, no matter how nicely I might ask them," said
Shemp, sarcastically, "They heard our rumble with the others on the roof, and they're looking for
us now. They're on the alert. They probably heard the guard I set on fire screaming, too, so they
know we're close."
Wade ignored the sarcasm and asked, "I'm counting on it. Now, how far away from the stairs
was that bathroom?"
"About 50 feet back up this hallway," answered Shemp, wondering what in the world that
Wade was thinking.
Wade quietly took them back the way they'd come, counting his steps as he went, until he
stopped at a door on the left side of the hallway. He opened the door from the front while Shemp
did his finger-peek inside he found it to be an office, and quite empty.
Raven closed the door behind them as Wade paced the office, muttering to himself. From the
sound of things, he was doing some kind of mental calculations.
"Help me move this desk," said Wade at last, "And keep quiet."
The desk was a 10-foot wide monster with a polished marble top. The plaque on it read: Gen.
David Jones, Commander. It probably weighed as much as a Buick. But between Shemp's
Cybernetic Strength and Wade's Exoskeleton, they managed to move it across the room without
much noise.
With the desk moved, Wade took out his vibro fire-ax, reversed his grip, and drove the spiked
hook, now in front, into the floor, to everyone's surprise.

"Shemp, hold onto this," Wade said as he surrendered the handle of the ax. He dialed up the
finger laser in his armor's right hand, setting it to light material, and began burning a path around
the embedded ax as he explained, "Sometimes when you're in a burning building, you have to
figure out how to take an alternative route around a section that's too dangerous to walk through.
You know, back-drafts, cave-ins. That sort of thing. All you have to do is to remember that
buildings have THREE dimensions, not just two."
Shemp felt the weight of the floor shift to the handle on the ax when Wade completed his cut.
The two of them removed the floor-section like a plug from a watermelon, setting it to one side
before Wade recovered his ax. It left a perfectly round hole in the floor and the roof below,
leading straight down to the bathroom below.
"Want me to go first?" asked Wade.
Shemp smirked, held his plasma rifle close, and deftly stepped over the hole, dropping down
the hole and into the bathroom below, taking point yet again.

They were all surprised a moment later when Shemp began to quietly curse over their helmet
radios.
"Shemp. Are you all right?" asked a worried Savannah.
"I'm fine," answered Shemp irritably, "But when the rest of you come down, angle a bit to the
right if you DON'T want to wind up with one of your feet in a toilet bowl."

They all tried not to giggle, but Shemp heard them over the radio anyway. He moved out of
the stall with one foot dripping wet and trailing a length of toilet paper sticking to the heel, his
plasma rifle ready to blast any terrorists that were in residence. Unfortunately, the room was
empty, leaving him without a target for his ire.
Shemp helped down Raven and Savannah as Wade lowered each one from above. Once they
were down, before he himself used the hole, he opened the office door and tossed a smoke
grenade at the stairs where the terrorists were waiting for them. Just to make sure that the
terrorists were paying attention to the stairs, where he wanted them to look. The smoke would
keep them thinking they were up to something in THAT direction.
Shemp and the girls were waiting by the bathroom door when he lowered himself and climbed
out of the toilet stall. He looked around the bathroom strangely before saying, "Shemp? Isn't there
something missing in here?"
Raven and Savannah shared an exasperated look that seemed to say, 'BOYS!' Far be it from
them to point out why a LADIES' room would lack any URINALS. It wasn't as if they needed
them to wash off their shoes or something equally as ridicilious.
Shemp opened the door a crack and peeked again with his finger-camera, snickering as he saw
all the smoke coming down the stairwell and the terrorists trying to find a moving target through
it.
Shemp handed Savannah his plasma rifle and said, "Not much need to ry to keep hidden.
They're not even looking this way," as he removed the satchel holding 6 hand grenades. He
opened the door before pulling the pin from one and throwing the entire satchel down the
hallway, right into the midst of the terrorists.
Shemp ducked back inside to reclaim his plasma rifle from Savannah before there were shouts
of alarm, followed almost immediately by an explosion that seemed to rock the entire building.
Wade and Shemp hit the door with their shoulders hard enough to rip it right off it's hinges as
they charged out into the hallway, their rifles aimed at a scene of utter carnage.
Their augmented sight let them see through the smoke to find the only 2 terrorists still moving
and to pick them off through the thick smoke that blocked their vision.
The way was clear by the time that Raven and Savannah made their way out into the hallway,

their weapons in hand.

"I've got point again," said Shemp as he led them down the hallway.

Together they passed a balcony and could see that Keith's squad had things well in hand,
keeping the terrorists at ground level busy inside the lobby. They had rammed the APC through
the front of the building and were busy picking off the entrenched terrorists one at a time. It
appeared that Matt Green was quite a good shot.
It also explained why they hadn't run into even more resistance. The terrorists already had
their hands full. Poor babies. One day you're the cock of the walk, the next you meet someone
with either a bigger stick or someone that knows how to use theirs better than you do.
Shemp paused to strip a better suit of riot armor off of a terrorist whom hadn't been wearing
his helmet. It was a far cry, still, from the NEMA Standard body armor that he had lost, but it was
better than walking around in the rags he had on. Even as tough as his cybernetics were, if they
were damaged enough then his friends would have a 450 pound paperweight that could speak in
his voice on their hands.
Shemp returned to the others with 3 more of the M-2011 Ion Pistols and an M-160 Energy
Rifle that he swapped for the plasma rifle he had been using. He shuddered to think of the
damage that THIS baby could have caused them had the terrorist had gotten a chance to use it.
The M-160 fired explosive packets of energy and could do so in bursts. Most soldiers considered
the rifle to actually be classified as a heavy weapon like his plasma rifle or a mini-missile rifle. It
certainly had the potential to cause just as much damage as either, if not more.
Shemp took point again and led the way down the hall, away form the balcony and the battle
going on in the lobby.
According to Keith's schematic, the control room was right down this hallway, situated next to
the room that held the computer mainframe for White Sands.
At the bend of the hall, Shemp did his finger-camera peek again before his face took on an
aspect that he normally reserved for when someone released flatulence in an enclosed elevator.
He quickly waved everyone back before saying, "Somebody's managed to wise up. They've got 6
guys stationed there inside a barricade and they've got scavenged rail-guns mounted behind them.
3 rail guns, 2 men per weapon."
"Grenades again?" suggested Savannah.
"Won't work. They're learning. They've thrown up a barrier in front of what they're hiding
behind. We try to throw a grenade at them and it'll just bounce back our way. And they're keeping
their eyes peeled at this end of the hallway. Probably have been waiting for us since the grenades
went off earlier," replied Shemp.
"One rail gun in this narrow hallway would likely rip us to shreds. Three is overkill, but

damned effective. They'd mow us down long before we could get to them, even you, Shemp,"
said Wade as he stroked his vibro fire-ax thoughtfully, "We could try detouring around them
again?"
Shemp shook his head again and said, "They've built that barrier on BOTH sides of their
position. The outer wall is pure plasticrete and leads to the outside. The other would require you
to chop into the computer mainframe, and I don't want to risk setting off any of those nukes
outside by accident. They aren't using kids or old men in the hallway here, they're older and look
paranoid as hell. My guess is that they rounded up some survivalist-types on the way here."

"If we can't take them from the front, and we can't come at them from either the rear or sides,
what does that leave us with?" asked Savannah.
Raven grinned and said, "GUILE. Shemp, take off that riot gear and change armor with me.
I've got an idea."

The dents, scratches, and blood already on the police riot armor didn't have to be faked; they
were all quite real. Raven divested herself of all of her NEMA gear, taking one of the M-2011 Ion
Pistols they had picked up along the way as well as the M-160 that Shemp had taken off the same
terrorist that had been wearing the riot gear.
Raven surprised Shemp by rubbing some of the charred synthetic flesh from his arm and then
smearing it over one side of her face, giving her jaw the passing impression of a bruise. She
messed her hair, giving herself a disheveled appearance. Lastly, the borrowed Wade's survival
knife and proceeded to cut up along one arm and leg of her khaki clothing, the same suit that the
terrorists seemed to favor. They had simply used the warmer clothing that they had found at
White Sands. It was the same brand that NEMA had been issuing for months.
She looked down at herself, frowned, and then opened her vest a bit and cut the cloth on her
chest, nearly exposing her left breast, leaving the underside of it clearly visible.
From the way that Wade was watching, she guessed that it had the intended effect on men, it
drew his eyes like magnets. Shemp wisely decided to study the ceiling least Savannah prove to
have a rolling pin hidden somewhere on her person. Nature had been kind to Raven. Generous,
even. Savannah wasn't as 'gifted', but Shemp seemed not to mind at all.
"Here we go," whispered Raven as she began moving down the hallway. As she moved closer
to the bend in the hallway that would bring her into sight of the men behind the barricade, she
effected a very convincing limp with the same leg that she had exposed with the knife, and let the
energy rifle dangle loosely from one hand, nearly dragging on the floor. Lastly, before she
rounded the corner, she let out a painful-sounding moan.

Shemp looked to Wade with raised eyebrows and asked, "Is she that good an actor all the
time?"
"You have no idea," he replied with a chuckle.
Savannah bit her lip as she asked, "Aren't you worried about her going out there alone?"
"Are you kidding? In our fire brigade, I'M the guy that concentrated on rescuing people.
SHE'S the one that kicked demon asses," proclaimed Wade proudly.
In spite of the reassurance, Shemp returned to the bend in the hallway and did the trick with
his finger camera again, holding it up high to keep the tip of his finger from being noticed.
He saw that Raven's plan was working. The survivalist-terrorists were beckoning for Raven to
hurry and get behind the cover of their barricades, assuming incorrectly that she was one of their
own soldiers that had taken a beating from the NEMA agents they were waiting for. They were
also spending more time eyeing her chest area than looking for any signs of injury.

'Doing your thinking with the wrong heads, boys,' thought Shemp to himself as Raven
continued limping towards them, looking quite shell shocked. Raven was right; give a guy a
chance to play the knight in shining armor and they usually tripped all over themselves making a
fool of themselves. He supposed it was genetic... but it was disturbing that Raven seemed all too
aware of this, and he began to suspect that there was a wide-spread conspiracy among the women.
As Raven arrived, the terrorists hurriedly pulled her inside their barricade, eager to prove
themselves as the most manly. They stupidly kept their eyes glued towards the hallway where she
had staggered from.
They weren't watching, but Shemp saw Raven cover the closest terrorist's mouth with her free
hand, from behind, as she drove her knife into the base of his neck, angling the blade upwards so
that it would drive straight into his brain. She lowered the body silently, keeping any of the others
from seeing.
Shemp was impressed. She moved like greased lightning, with no trace of the limp she had
effected earlier, driving her knife into the back of the head of the gunner before he knew she was
even there.
The other men stared at her, completely confused, as she turned the readied rail gun about and
opened fire, ripping them to shreds before they could begin to turn their own weapons.

"Damn. Remind me never to get that gal mad at me," said Shemp as both Savannah and Wade
hurried to catch up. They all arrived to find Raven cleaning her recovered knife on the shirt of
one of the dead men.
"What kept you?" she quipped.

"Kind of makes you feel sorry for the poor guys, don't it?" asked Wade as he climbed over the
barricade to train his weapon on the door.
Shemp refrained from commenting as he carefully hoisted Savannah over the barricade before
leaping over it himself. He traded Raven the M-160 for her regular rifle and then eyed the rail gun
she had used.
"It's like the one that Andy uses with his Silver Eagle SAMAS," said Raven.
Shemp grinned and slung the M-160 before prying it free of it's mount and picking up the
cannister of belt-fed ammo with his other.
"Waste not, want not," said Shemp as he moved towards the door to the command center.
Big Wade had dropped to one knee and used his vibro-knife to pry off the panel of the
numerical keypad on the door, fiddling with the wires. Wade knew enough electronics to get past
any locks that he might encounter in a burning building. He grinned and said, "You gotta love
government contractors when they go with the lowest bidder."
Wade stood and pushed two naked wires together. With a spark, the doors cycled open as they
rushed inside.

Kathy Prosek whirled in alarm in front of the control panel. How the hell had they gotten
through the reinforced door so quickly? The had heard the rail-gun shooting outside only a
minute ago and had assumed that the guards outside had opened fire at the NEMA agents.
Instead, the NEMA agents were standing inside the door, and were armed.
A technician tried to get to his feet and draw the PLP Laser Pistol from his side, but the big
man with what looked like metal limbs shot him with a burst from the rail-gun he carried,
punching over a dozen holes through the unarmored man. The technician's body tumbled over the
control panel that had been turned into scrap that spat smoke and sparks.

Almost everyone seemed to freeze as Big Wade's booming voice declared, "Ladies and
gentlemen. You are our PRISONERS. You are under ARREST."
Kathy's mouth was doing a good impersonation of a fish caught out on dry land. She looked to
Wilma Dunscon, only to find that her friend was murmuring under her breath, her precious book
held to her breast, as if it would act like a shield. To her utter amazement, Wilma waved at her
and then completely vanished with a small 'pop' sound.
Raven leveled her rifle at the spot where Wilma had been only a moment before and shouted,
"Where did she go?"
Kathy was completely incensed as she shouted, "The BITCH! She ran out on me!"

"Great, another practitioner of magic. That makes 2 humans I've seen with that ability,"
growled Shemp as he kept the half dozen terrorists in the command center covered with the railgun.
Wade peeked back out as he heard running footsteps out in the hallway to declare, "Here come
the others. Looks like we've about got this wrapped up now."

Kathy began laughing.

They all looked at her. It wasn't a laugh with any trace of mirth, but that of a lunatic that didn't
have anything left to live for.
"And just what is so funny?" asked Savannah as she leveled her rifle at the cackling young
woman.
"You WISH! You're too late. I've already set the last 10 missiles to launch," Kathy shouted,
grinning fiercely, spittle flying to hang from one corner of her lips. It left little doubt to the
heroes, and now to the other 5 people in the room, that she was insane, "I'm going to have my
fire, and you can't stop it!"
Raven stepped forward before anyone could stop her and punched Kathy in the nose. Blood
spurted as the young woman's legs collapsed under her. She was out cold.
"Savannah, get on that computer and see what she's done to it," shouted Wade as he returned
to the hallway to get Keith's attention while Shemp and Raven kept the others covered. Keith had
Matt with him, to make the arrest official.
"This isn't good at all," said Savannah in a high, frightened voice, "She's set the missiles to
launch in 30 minutes... and the rest of the missiles still in the storage facility to go off 15 minutes
after that."
"Then cancel the order," ordered Keith.
"I can't. She's locked the missile controls out of the system," said Savannah with wide eyes,
"We can't get far enough away from here in time, not with that big an explosion."
"Find something we can do," ordered Keith, "And have Tim and Andy see if there are vehicles
in that motor pool we can use to get the rest of these idiots and the scientists we rescued out of
here. Move it people!"
Kathy Prosek groaned and fluttered her eyelids.
Raven kicked her in the side of the head, knocking her out again. And didn't feel the least bit
guilty about it.

DAYS OF THE APOCALYPSE (Part 7)

Luckier Nugget Saloon, Main Street, Silver City, New West,

New Mexico Territory (Old American Empire), May 3rd, 105 P.A.

"That can't be right!" demanded Heather, as if she could change the words on the page by
sheer force of will, let alone history itself.
Lady Priscilla calmed Heather down with a hand on her shoulder. In truth, she had come to
think of the characters in the book now as real, living, breathing people. Even though she knew
that there was no way that they could have survived even if they had some way to get out of the
predicament that they found themselves in when Mandrake had stopped reading. Over 200 years
had passed since the events in the book had come to pass.
Mandrake found he had to calm his own nerves and wet his throat. He had been so caught up
in the story himself that he had forgotten where he was. It had been a while since he'd read a story
that did that to him.
Everyone in the common room, which now seemed to be crowded from wall to wall with
people listening in rapt attention, was hanging on the next part of the story. Mandrake mused that
he likely had never seen as large a group of people so interested in what amounted to as a history
lesson. Richard Lean had really outdone himself in finding the works of this long-forgotten
author.
"Is that all that's left of the story?" asked Meggy with wide eyes, staring at the book Mandrake
held.
Thom Mandrake looked down at the book in his hands and saw that only 1 chapter remained
to the story. Not much room at all to tell the fate of these heroes, the relatives none of them ever
knew that they had. He found himself agreeing with Heather's earlier statement, that these
previously unknown heroes deserved a happier ending than fate had so far given to them.
Mandrake took another drink while Joe Stalker hurriedly inserted a new disc in his recording
device. He thought for a moment and then handed the book over to Lady Priscilla as he said, "I
think it's only right that you finish the story that you began, Lady Priscilla."
Lady Priscilla bit her lower lip and said, "Truth to tell, with a book this good, I usually try to
peek ahead at the ending."
"NO!"

The shout came from the entire room. Obviously, whatever the outcome they looked at next,
no one wanted to break the stride that the story was taking so far.
Lady Priscilla accepted the tome with as much dignity as she could muster and said to the
entire room, "But I shall refrain, this time."
The room shared a smattering of giggles as well as a sigh of relief.

White Sands, New Mexico, March 6th, 2099,

103 Days After the Coming of the Rifts,
3 Months, 16 Days
1:45 A.M., Command Center
"You won't be able to get far enough away in the time left," said Carl Mandrake, "We've got
about 300 combined megatons of nukes out there, all on the same countdown. That's going to
have a blast radius of about 5 miles in all directions, with another 15 miles around that just as
bad. Anything in that 20 mile radius will either be atomized, given a lethal dose of radiation, or
burned to cinders. And that's not counting the fallout from that kind of blast. The nukes under us
wouldn't be nearly as bad, being that deep underground, but they're all on the same timer, too.
Even that deep, over 15,000,000 megatons is going blast right through. We'll be lucky if there's
even anything left of New Mexico after a blast like that. It might even trigger more earthquakes,
ones that will make the ones we've seen so far look puny in comparison."
Keith rubbed at the migraine in his temples.
"How long before we can get those vehicles ready and the prisoners loaded on board?"
"Not long, but getting them all ready is going to take some time that we just don't have," said
Tim over his helmet radio, "We'd have a better chance if we got them underway as we loaded
them. Those hover-trucks can carry a lot, but they're slower than most hover-craft. I propose we
take 4 groups of 20 out of here, but since we don't know what direction that the fallout is going to
go, we send them in different directions."
"Just do it," ordered Keith, the weariness in his voice plain, "Send each group with 1 squad, all
in a different westerly direction, except for the scientists. We need to evacuate them to the nearest
NEMA base, the one in Las Vegas... and hope for the best."
Keith cut the connection. He wasn't expecting any more trouble from the terrorists. Finding
out how mad their leader really was and that they were sitting right on top of the biggest bomb in
all history had made them pretty damned co-operative.
"Any luck on stopping the timers?" asked Keith.
Savannah shook her head and said, "She didn't just lock us out, she's erased the entire sub-

routine and encrypted the override. I could get by them and shut it down, but it could take hours
alone to crack the encryption. The best I might be able to do would be to re-start the timer with
my own sub-routine, inserted directly into the temporary memory, which looks like she didn't
have time enough to erase entirely... but there's a catch..."
"What?"
"Someone has to be here to enter it MANUALLY. I can only reset it to 15 minutes each time,
then the subroutine I put in will vanish with the rest of the time.... I... I can buy you some time...
but I... I can't stop it..."
Shemp growled. He understood immediately that what she was suggesting amounted to
sacrificing herself to buy the rest of them some time to get away. Only she and, to a lesser extent,
Raven had any real computer skills among the NEMA agents.
"So the ONLY way to buy some time is for the two of you to stay behind, and the detonation is
STILL going to happen?" asked Keith.
"Not two, THREE," said Shemp in a growl that would brook no argument.
"Make that FOUR," said Big Wade, coming to stand beside him.
Keith scowled. Technically, they were talking mutiny. Technically, he was able to order them
to leave with the rest of the team except for Savannah and Raven.
Practically, however, they were capable of tearing off his arms like a kid taking the wings ff of
a fly.

"Shemp," said Savannah.

"NO! I just found you and I'll be damned if I'm going to lose you now. If you two have to stay,
then so do I."
"Goes double for me," declared Big Wade, "I've never left a teammate behind and I'm not
about to start now. It would ruin my record."
"This is serious," said Keith, trying reason anyway, "The biggest head-start anyone can get is
15 minutes once they stop typing in the coded lines. Savannah and Raven can't keep that up
forever. Whoever stays behind is eventually going to DIE."
Shemp and Wade looked like mirrors as they shook their heads in denial.
Wade suggested, "Go on, Keith. Get everyone else out of here. We'll work on buying the rest
of you some time to get away while we figure out how to get out of here ourselves. Maybe we
can find an aircraft or something and beat you all back to Chicago?"
It was a hollow offer and they all knew it, especially Keith. Any aircraft that tried to take off

would have it's intakes shorted in minutes, at the most. The volcanic ash was worse than having a
dump-truck of sand poured directly into the engines. The jets would be clogged by the constant
fall of volcanic ash, that was if the shockwaves and EMP generated by the nuclear warheads
didn't fry them first. Land travel was the only option that would work, and in this weather, it was
far too slow.
Keith shook his head, shrugged, and gave the 4 a salute before turning to join the others in the
mass migration back to Chicago as Savannah began typing in the lines of computer code to reset
the timers.

Keith put their only worrisome prisoner, the young woman whom had led the terrorists, Kathy
Prosek, in the first hover-truck, a semi-hauler that used hover technology in the place of the old
18-wheel system, with Andy Luke and Sabrina Hazel, sending them out on a straight line to
Chicago. They would have the largest lead back home.
Tim Darkmoon, Harry Cassidy, and Carl Mandrake left as soon as the 2nd hover-truck was
loaded and ready to go. Keith sent them into a more northeasterly direction that should get them
back to Chicago once they intersected interstate 76.
Dani Alpo and Aaron Willington got the hard assignment. They were to escort the scientists to
the NEMA station in Las Vegas, Nevada, where, it was hoped, they could help prepare that
outpost for the effects of the coming nuclear explosion and to eventually help in the cleanup.
With whatever was left, at any rate.
Keith put himself with the last load of prisoners, on board the NEMA APC. Riana Creed and
Matt Green were going with him. One look at his face told them not to ask about the remaining 4
members of their detail twice.
As they left heading directly east where they would tack due north towards Chicago once they
reached Texas, Keith kept an eye on the rear-mounted sensors until the base vanished in the
growing blizzard. The weather was, once again, taking a turn for the worse. Not exactly a
surprise. This was going to be hard enough, finding their way back on these diverse courses with
intermittent radio contact. It was the last thing they needed.
"God, please help them find a way home," prayed Keith for the 4 friends he had for only a
brief time.

Luckier Nugget Saloon, Main Street, Silver City, New West,

New Mexico Territory (Old American Empire), May 3rd, 105 P.A.

Lady Priscilla paused in her reading to reach over and pull both Heather and Meggy's hands

away from their mouths while they still had a few fingernails left to them.
"Are you SURE you want to hear the ending to this story?" asked Lady Priscilla with concern
for her adoptive daughters. They were very tender of heart, she knew.
Heather and Meggy clasped each others hands and held a whispering session to decide. Ruffy
and Mocha took the brief pause to once again refill everyone's drinks as Ginger happily tallied
them onto everyone's bills.
Considering the profit they were showing from this reading, she was planning to mention the
possibility to Lady Priscilla that they have a 'Reading Night' once a week. It was certainly good
for business.
"Remember, Girls," added Mandrake with concern, "This may be the reason that we've never
heard of Shemp, Savannah, Wade, or Raven as we have the others' decedents. Samantha Hazel is
obviously Martin Hazel's forbear, as Andy Luke was Toby 'Ripper' Luke's, and so on. But we
have no one here in Silver City with the last names of those 4 whom stayed behind. This story
may well have no happy ending for them, in spite of all our wishes."
The two dog-girls were entirely somber as they nodded their heads in the affirmative.

"I can't help but think there's a bit of a mystery, though," said Lee Mandrake, Thom
Mandrake's younger brother, "Thom and I are both from a time even before the Great Cataclysm.
We both know that White Sands wasn't that far from Silver City, even then. If there had been a
nuclear explosion on the scale they were talking about, then this entire region STILL wouldn't be
habitable. The 4 that were left behind must have found some way to stop it from happening."
"But did they survive it?" asked Mandrake, "And even if they did manage to survive, without
any kind of transportation in those conditions, would they have survived both the elements and
the demons?"
Martin grabbed everyone's attention by clearing his throat loudly before this turned into a fullblown debate and said, "There is ONE way to find out."
Taking a final sip of her wine, Lady Priscilla returned to the book in order to finish the final
chapter.

White Sands, New Mexico, March 6th, 2099,

103 Days After the Coming of the Rifts,
3 Months, 16 Days
1:55 A.M., Command Center

Savannah's concentration was entirely focused on the keyboard in front of her, her fingers
blurring in haste as she entered line after line of coded programming into the computer
mainframe's temporary memory, the one chink in the armor of Kathy Prosek's final bit of
treachery.
She was keenly aware that the clock was ticking and that she had no time to revise any
mistakes that she might make. It would only take 1 mistake to keep the program she was putting
in to reset the timers fail, and not stop the 10 nuclear missiles next door from fulfilling the
purpose they were built for.
The codes had to be entered manually, from THIS keyboard, every time, as each time the
clock was reset to 15:00 on it's steady countdown, the program she wrote to do that would also be
erased.
It also meant that she had to start the program from scratch each time. At least, until she
eventually made that 1 mistake; a typo, a forgotten line, or a simple need to sleep and rest.
Raven was using what computer skills that she had to search the classified documents that
were available from the mainframe's database. It helped that most security was used to keep
people OUT from this location, not to keep someone already here from getting in. The 3
dedicated printers in the room were all going at full-speed as she called up blueprints, schematics,
inventories... ANYTHING that had a chance at helping them find a way out of this predicament.
Wade was organizing one such pile of blueprints when he stopped, studying what seemed to be
just another printout of the floor-plan for the storage facility underneath them. Save that the entire
corner of the 2nd floor, covering nearly a full quarter mile area, was completely blank, save for
two words, which was what had caught his attention about this document.
"Raven? What can you find on something called 'Project Enterprise?'" asked Wade as he read
the only 2 words in the blank area.
Raven called up the top secret file, ignoring the multiple 'eyes only' warnings as well as the
announcement that an assassination squad was being dispatched to ensure that she was authorized
to see this file. Washington no longer existed, for one thing, but the warning did indicate that
something big was here besides the missiles.
Raven's eyes widened as she read the file.

"You guys have GOT to read this," declared Raven with excitement making her voice shrill.
Savannah entered her program and breathed a sigh of relief as she saw the countdown reset
itself from 2:15 back to 15:00.

"Considering the time limit, why don't you condense it for us?" suggested Wade as Savannah
began to enter her program from scratch again.
Raven agreed. She was the only speed reader in the room.
"It's a top secret program, dealing with the development of matter teleportation and
dimensional research. It's supposed to have a machine that can teleport solid matter from one
location to another. It's theorized that the same technology can be used to find, exploit, and
transport resources from other dimensions as well as out own. This was supposed to eventually
render space travel by ships as obsolete."

"WHAT!? You mean like the 'transporters' on that old Sci-Fi classic show? The one they used
to show on the Classic Television Channel?" asked Shemp. He shrugged as his friends looked
strangely at him. So what if his geek-dom was revealed? They had much bigger fish to fry at the
moment.
"I think that's the one. The 'TELEPORTER' is one of 6 prototypes. There are 5 others,
constructed in Washington, D.C., at the NEMA headquarters in Texas, at a secret base in New
Mexico, one at the Aberdeen Proving Grounds in Maryland, and on board Space Station Freedom
in orbit above Earth," replied Raven as she read further.
"Did they work? If they had those things working, we could use them to get to one of those
other places," asked Shemp, immediately seeing the possibilities.
"I don't know. These prototypes, they were having problems with their stability. It was an
ongoing project as of December 22nd last year, when all this end-of-the-world stuff began. It's
supposed to digitize the subject(s) inside a teleportation chamber, then send them through a
modem-like device to another one capable of receiving the high-end frequencies. But there's
some really disturbing reports in here of what led to the exploiting of other dimensions for
resources to be considered. They really didn't understand THAT aspect of the entire thing."
"Sounds like a real longshot to me, then," said Shemp.
"Yeah, but it beats a 'no-shot' any day of the week," interjected Wade, "But we've still got the
problem of those nuclear warheads to deal with. We let them go off and things are going to get a
lot worse for the people around here that are left, not to mention our pals that just left if the
fallout blows the right way. This kind of disaster might just be the last straw on this camel's
back."
"I've got an idea," said Raven, "But we're going to need some stuff from the armory. Are you
and Shemp up for a 'run'?"

The door to the armory was wide open, at least presenting them with 1 less delay. Wade and
Shemp rushed inside, hastily assembling Raven's 'wish-list'.

Satchels of mini-missiles, plastic explosives, 500 foot lengths of rope, a hammer, pitons,
repelling gear, and a fully environmental suit of Navy Body Armor, lighter than the NEMA
Standard Body Armor that she had given to Shemp, but it was air-proof and, more importantly,
radiation proof.
Shemp also decided to snag a few more e-clips for his M-160 energy rifle, as well as another
canister of ammo for the rail gun. Who knew what kind of demons might be waiting for them if
this crazy scheme of theirs' actually managed to work.
Shemp and Wade carried the collection of explosives and mini-missiles in a crate between
them, taking it at speed past the command center and to the freight elevator that led down into the
storage chambers below.
"In retrospect, Keith might have been a bit hasty in sealing off the lower chambers," said Wade
as they positioned the crate bearing the load of high explosives on the northeast corner of the
elevator platform.

They had packed the crate with package after package of fusion blocks and plastic explosives
before pressing over 20 high explosive mini-missiles downwards into the volatile mixture. Shemp
had even pressed into the top a pair of anti-tank mines that he had found in the armory.
Once the crate was placed, they quickly retreated to the corner of the Command Center before
Shemp un-slung his plasma rifle as Wade kept running, calling over his helmet radio to tell the
girls that phase 1 of Raven's plan was done.
Wade was pleasantly surprised to find that Raven had stripped to put on the new body armor
he had brought to her.
"How much longer before Savannah resets the times on the missiles again?" asked Wade.
"3 minutes. Once she stops typing for 4 minutes, we won't have time to reset them again. We
won't have enough time and she's getting real tired," answered Raven as she hurriedly slipped into
the armor.
"Okay, if nothing else, we've bought the others a full hour, then. Let's hope that its enough,"
said Wade as they waited together, near Savannah, for her to finish entering the program one
more time.
Shemp waited patiently below, his "Hot Seat" Plasma Rifle trained directly on the crate on top
of the elevator. The constant rain of volcanic ash and gray-goop was starting to pile up inside the
base now that no one was trying to keep it cleared away.
Savannah entered the long lines of code again, resetting the times for the last time as she
shouted, "GO!"
Wade grabbed Raven under one of his arms, and Savannah under the other, his "Roscoe"

power armor lent his legs speed far beyond what mere flesh and blood could manage as he took
off at a dead run.
Wade's legs propelled them down the hallway, past the former rail gun nests, past the bend in
the hallway. At the balcony where little over an hour ago they had watched Matt Green shooting
terrorists Wade turned his course and leapt over the banisters, sending all 3 of them flying down
at the foyer below.
Wade landed, the servo-motors in his armor whining as they strained to handle the load and
abuse he was dishing out, his feet driving through the tiles on the floor and cracking the
plasticrete below. Barely pausing to recover his balance, Wade ran through the open front of the
building.
"GO!" shouted Savannah for the second time, the signal to Shemp that they had cleared the
command center.
Shemp fired his plasma rifle and ducked behind the corner of the command center. The fiery
globe of plasma burned through the ash and gray-goop as it sped towards the crate on it's short
flight, the difference in temperature extremes marking it's trail with superheated vapor before the
globe slammed into the crate itself.
The fiery plasma reduced the wooden crate to ashes instantly while igniting the volatile
mixture of plastic explosives and mini-missiles.
The world itself seemed to explode an instant later.

The fireball the explosion generated towered as it climbed up to 200 feet into the sky, the
uprush of such heat into the freezing cold atmosphere creating a miniature version of the
mushroom cloud that the nuclear warheads would make in less than 15 minutes.
The force of the explosion drove everyone to their knees, even Shemp's cybernetics weren't
enough to withstand the pounding of force thrown outwards by the explosion.
Shemp climbed back to his feet as Wade came trotting up, helping Raven and Savannah along.
"Welcome to the party, Sexy," said Shemp as he slung his plasma rifle and fell into step with
them.
"13 minutes, 42 seconds," said Wade as he read the readout on his helmet's HUD display to
help spur their running towards the elevator.
The explosion had completely shattered the 16-inch thick slab of steel and plasticrete, leaving
the entire northeastern corner a gaping hole into the elevator shaft beneath it.
Wade used the hammer to drive in pitons to secure the rope at the surface while Savannah and
Raven rigged their repealing gear. Shemp dropped the first length of 500 feet of nylon cord down
into the elevator shaft before handing the other end to Wade to tie off securely. Without power to

get the device working again, they would have to descend under their own power. Luckily they
had gravity on their side.
Shemp waited for Wade to tie off the rope before taking it in his hands and positioning himself
over the hole. Using his cybernetic hands meant that he wouldn't need a repealing rig. It would
finish shredding the synthetic flesh left on his hands, but at this point, with such odds at stake, he
saw little need to worry about cosmetic damage.
Shemp let himself go down the rope at a much faster rate than would be safe for the others.
One of the good things about being a cyborg was that it made one VERY hard to hurt. His feet
crunched into the pile of twisted metal and plasticrete that had been blown down from the
elevator's corner above.
Shemp wasted no time in driving in an anchoring piton at the bottom of the shaft to tie the
rope off on for greater stability, using his own hand as the hammer. He pulled out one of the M2011 Heavy Ion Pistols they had taken off of the terrorists instead of pulling out his heavier
weapons on the premise that he REALLY wanted to avoid accidentally setting off one of the
nuclear warheads if it would be avoided. There was something about shooting one that told him it
would be a really bad idea. It was bad enough that Raven's plan called for them to set one off ON
PURPOSE!

Shemp kept watch on the off chance that there might be any terrorists they had overlooked in
the round-up earlier. He found himself thinking of what had, only a short time ago, been one of
his favorite one-liners. 'Do you want to live forever?' had been a lot easier to answer before he
had found Savannah, but he wouldn't trade their time together for anything.
The other three quickly made their way down, the clock ticking away all the time. Wade was
the last to reach ground level, announcing, "11 minutes, 25 seconds," as his feet touched the
ground.
As planned, Raven mounted Shemp's back as Savannah climbed onto Wade's in a strange
parody of a child's piggy-back ride.
Among them all, Shemp's cybernetic legs were the swiftest, so it was critical that Raven
accompany HIM so as to get to this 'Project Enterprise' first so that she had as much time as
possible to set the chamber for their escape.
Being the next quickest in his Roscoe Power Armor, Wade would give Savannah a lift to save
time, even though they would be arriving well after Shemp and Raven. With only 11 minutes left,
every one of them was precious.

Shemp kept his eyes out and quickly spotted that several of the warheads which had been in
the process of being reassembled, and that they hadn't had their protective shielding installed. If
the terrorist workers hadn't taken the same precautions that Raven had with her new armor, then

there were likely to be a few cases of radiation poisoning among the prisoners with them.
Shemp left skid marks on the floor in his haste to stop before the door marked 'PROJECT
ENTERPRISE: NO ADMITTANCE TO UNAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL!' Raven slid from his
back, snatching the satchel of c-4 explosives from Shemp's hand as he turned to survey the bevy
of nuclear warheads. Sure enough, each had a timer, counting down from 40:00, exactly 30
minutes after the 10 minutes they had left before the missiles topside went off. Unless, of course,
their hair-brained scheme actually worked.

He quickly located what Raven wanted; a 30 megaton, MIRV warhead. With the outer casing
missing, the inner workings reminded Shemp, at first glance, of a bunch of grapes on their vine.
He used his vibro-claws to remove the outermost casing left to the missile's warhead as Wade
came running up with Savannah clasped to his back. The run had left him sweating, but the
exoskeleton inside his power armor took most of the effort of the run away from him.
Wade cursed as he used his HUD display. It showed him that dangerous levels of radiation
were bouncing around down here. Long-term exposure would be deadly. The idiot terrorists had
been true amateurs. They hadn't been careful even while handling this much radiation.
Once set aside, the MIRV warheads were exposed, 10 warheads intended to be launched while
airborne, each carrying 3 megatons of power and each was roughly the size of a small canoe,
although much heavier, with a round head studded with cylinders.
Shemp gladly stepped aside as Wade, the only one among them with any training in
demolitions disposal, used his armor's finger-tools to detach one of the 10 MIRV warheads from
the others. Together they hoisted the heavy piece of equipment to the ground.
Behind them, Raven used the C-4 to blast open the doorway to Project Enterprise, making
them both want to jump as they lowered the warhead. Nope, nuclear technician was too stressful
for either of them as a line of work. They'd happily stick with fighting terrorists and demons,
thank you very much.

Shemp and Wade carried the detached warhead between them as they followed the girls inside.
Savannah and Raven were already at the controls of a machine that resembled, in size, one of the
semi-trailer haulers that the hover-trucks had left carrying. In a way, it made sense. If you were
going to move things in bulk, why not in a container that could be fitted in the back of a cargo
hauler that would be waiting for it?
"8 minutes," said Wade as they sat the 3 megaton warhead by the door, just to remind
everyone that they were well past the point of no return now. Even if Shemp could race Savannah
back to the computer console, she wouldn't have time now to enter all the lines of code in time.
Raven's plan HAD to succeed now.

They had no other choices, and very little time left.

"Set it with the head of the missile pointing back the way we came from," instructed Raven
from over her shoulder, "Then paste the rest of our explosive blocks around the warhead, and
make sure it's as evenly spread as possible."
"I just hope this doesn't set off the rest of that stockpile back there, not to mention the ones
above us," said Shemp with concern as he and Wade began slapping on block after block of gray
plastic explosives, everything from commercial plastique to C-4 and fusion blocks.
"Nukes don't work that way," said Wade as he got more explosives from his satchel to apply to
the warhead, "To cause the chain-reaction needed to set off plutonium, you have to use explosives
like this C-4 to drive those pistons there at the head inwards at the same time. That starts the
reaction that spreads from one atom splitting to the next and so on, releasing all that energy and
radiation. When the timers on all those nukes reaches zero, they're going to drive all the cylinders
into the hearts of the missiles' warheads. We can't disarm even a fraction of those out there in time
at this rate."
"BUT... if we can generate an explosion from that small warhead BEFORE the timers reach
zero, then the EMP from the warhead that will be released should fry all the electronic timers on
all the other missiles, aborting the countdown permanently. Anything in a 5-mile radius that's
active and using electronic components will be fried by it as well," added Raven.
"But... won't the explosion set off the other nukes, too?" asked Shemp. If that was the case,
they would actually be SHORTENING the time until the meltdown.
"Nope. See how the pile-drivers, those cylinders are spread out evenly in a perfect sphere?
Unless they ALL go off at the same time, and all collide at the same point at the same time, they
won't set the reaction off. That's why they're called 'SUPER-COLLIDERS'. The explosion from
this one won't be hitting them all evenly, at the same time."
"And the bad news?" asked Shemp as he molded the mass of plastic explosives into a rough
sphere about the head of the warhead.
"Besides 6 minutes, 30 seconds? This thing is THREE megatons. The first nuclear bomb that
was dropped on a Japanese city called Hiroshima absolutely DEMOLISHED it. That one was
only 1 megaton, a third of this one. We've got only one shot at doing this. If either the transporter
over there or the warhead here doesn't work, we're dead. Either way, we've GOT to set this one
off, even if we can't get the other part of Raven's plan to work," answered Wade.
"Okay. This isn't going to get any more even with us shaping it by hand," declared Shemp,
"Hand me the timer."
Wade stared at Shemp blankly before he said, "I thought YOU got the timer?"
Raven didn't wait for Shemp's reply before she started cursing loudly. MEN!

"Um... 5 minutes, 15 seconds," interrupted Wade.

"I've got the transporter set, but I'm guessing at half of the settings on these controls,"
announced Savannah, "Set to go in 4 minutes and 20 seconds. It takes it that long for the
capacitors to charge."
"Damn! We're back to square one," sighed Wade. Someone was going to have to stay behind to
set off the warhead in time.
"Like HELL we are," growled Shemp, iron determination edging his voice, "What the hell?
We're playing most of this by ear anyway. Let's add one more to the mix. At this point, what's 1
more chance or less?"
Even Raven had to admit that he had a point.
"Wade, give me a hand. We've got to lug this damned thing back outside," said Shemp.

Shemp and Wade put their backs in it, hauling the warhead back out of the room, as far in a
straight line from the door as they could carry it in two minutes. They sat it upright and raced
back to the chamber.
"Everybody get inside," said Shemp as he eyed where the warhead now sat in the storage
facility, "Wade? I need to know when we're 5 seconds from transporting, and everyone needs to
stay BEHIND me, with their eyes closed."
As Raven and Savannah climbed into the teleportation chamber, Wade asked Shemp, "Why 5
seconds?"
"Because it'll take about 4 and 1/2 seconds for me to set the warhead off from here," said
Shemp as he flexed his right arm. The forearm opened like the petals on a flower, exposing the 3shot mini-missile launcher within, "I'm packing 3 plasma missiles, Wade. These ought to set off
the plastic explosives."
Wade grinned tiredly and offered the only piece of advice that came to him; "Don't miss."

The chamber hummed about them as they waited, Wade reading off what time they had left,
with Shemp holding his arm steady in the direction of the warhead, not on the missile itself for
fear of damaging it, but at the floor below it. The blast radius of all three missiles would be more
than enough to reach it.
"Savannah?" asked Shemp as they waited, "I just wanted to say 'thank you' and 'I love you',
just in case."
Savannah smiled as she answered, "I understand the 'I love you' part because the feeling is
mutual. But why the 'thank you'?"

"Because you gave me back my humanity. You showed me that I could love and be loved by
someone. Someone even as wonderful as you are. I'd given up on that."
Savannah moved to hug Shemp from behind just as Wade shouted, "FIVE!"
Shemp triggered the mental relay, releasing all 3 of the mini-missiles at once, even as the
chamber began crackling with a by-now-familiar blue white energy. The last thing that Shemp's
cybernetic eyes saw was the brightest light that he had ever seen. Organic eyes would have been
blinded instantly by the sight. Still, it was nothing next to the torch he carried for the woman he
loved.

The ground under White Sands Military Base heaved and bucked, rising upwards as if it had
been built on the surface of a gigantic, inflating balloon, and taking the base along for the ride
with it.
All the timers on all the surface missiles froze at 0:45 as powerful EMP waves washed through
them from below, burning out every single electronic component on every one of the suddenly
toppling missiles.
Waves of nuclear fire washed through the underground complex, melting all metal into a huge
pool of radioactive metal as every support, roof, and floor shattered into powder in an instant.
The remains of the top of the elevator was thrown into the atmosphere 10 miles, achieving
orbit by the blast.

Luckily for everyone, a Russian 'weather satellite' detected it's 'launch' and disintegrated it
with a pulsed ion blast from a concealed ion pulse cannon. At least there would be no threat from
the radioactive slab upon reentry.
With the same suddenness as the ground's rise, expanded under the mile-long base and the
surrounding area, it collapsed, dropping everything into a fiery pit of molten steel and rock,
burying the dangerous radioactivity beneath hundreds of tons of rock, steel, and shattered
plasticrete. White Sands was no longer a danger.
Their mission had been completed.

Author's note:

Unfortunately, the records of the previous events ends here. We know from history that the
squad of NEMA agents led by Sabrina Hazel and Andy Luke did, indeed, make it back to NEMA
headquarters in Chicago, the area now known as the legendary Chi-Town. The terrorist, Kathy

Prosek, was sentenced to a lifetime of community service for her crimes. The death penalty was
considered, but with such a shortage of manpower, it was felt best if she tried to repair some of
the damage that she had caused.
The squad led by Keith Walker, Matt Green, and Riana Creed missed finding Chicago in the
Super-Storm that followed them, lasting a full week. It is now known that they turned north too
soon. They reportedly found a group of survivors to assist in building what would later become
known as Tolkeen. Only Keith Walker did not permanently settle here. Trying to re-locate NEMA
headquarters in Chicago from where his team had started, Keith Walker led a small expedition
that did not return to Tolkeen nor Chicago. It is believed by most experts that he managed to
overshoot his target again when he wandered into a Rift and was teleported to the Blue Zone,
now known as the Magic Zone, arriving at what was then called Lexington, Kentucky and later
renamed Stormspire to which it is known today. It is also recorded that there he met a readheaded woman by the name of 'Sissy', fell in love, and finally settled down.
The squad led by Tim Darkmoon, Harry Cassidy, and Carl Mandrake, likewise, lost their way
in the super-storm and were unable to make their way back to Chicago, but instead settled with
other survivors they found in the area that has eventually become known as the Manistique
Imperium.
Dani Alpo and Aaron Willington ran into survivors from the massacre that they described in
Las Vegas, prompting them to abandon that NEMA base with everything they could carry,
abandoning the city to monsters and demons. The city has never been officially found again. They
accompanied the survivors to Silver City where they found a small outpost of survivors that
refused to give up. Here they all settled. Saddened by the loss of their friends and feeling indebted
by their sacrifice, they spent the rest of their days helping survive in their memory. The 4 who
were lost at the White Sands Military Base.
The final fate of these 4, "Big" Wade Adams, Raven Laramie, Shemp Fine, and Savannah
Jones is, sadly, unknown and may well never be.
Many experts argue that they certainly perished in the nuclear explosion, sacrificing
themselves heroically as they saved untold thousands from death.

Others insist that they escaped in the hastily jury-rigged, experimental device that harnessed
teleportation to one of the 5 other locations mentioned in this book.
Some say, hopefully, that they may even have been whisked away to another dimension, as the
prototype device was indicated to be capable of manipulating such travel, and landed in a
paradise dimension. If I could chose among these for the fates of the brave men and women of the
4, then it would be this one as they certainly deserve a reward.
But I am a realist. We will, in all probability never know.
But we do salute these brave men and women who refused to surrender to impossible odds,

and who were, in the true light of human spirit, learned to love and trust one another until they
found their final end together. Whatever it was that they found.
Unless more information becomes available, this is the end of this work. I hope it made you
proud of these people as I found it made me.
Thank you, and good bye.

Luckier Nugget Saloon, Main Street, Silver City, New West,

New Mexico Territory (Old American Empire), May 3rd, 105 P.A.

Cries of outrage and disappointment were universal in the common room of the Luckier
Nugget Saloon. Lady Priscilla found herself searching the last, blank page of the book as if she
couldn't believe it had ended without telling of the fate of the 4 brave NEMA agents.
Heather, Ginger, and Meggy all snatched the book away from Lady Priscilla, just to make sure
that there wasn't 1 LAST page that she had somehow overlooked.
There wasn't one, as cruel as it might seem.
Martin finished his drink in the same disappointment the rest of the crowd was displaying
before he noticed that 3 people in the room looked too thoughtful, not having joined in the
collective groaning. The Mandrake brothers and Doug from Base Morrigan had their heads
together, discussing something serious.
Martin motioned the 3 men to one side of the room, where they could speak privately. There
was no fear of anyone overhearing them due to the uproar caused by the gathered throng's
opinions of how the book had ended.

"I think the three of you have thoughts you might want to share with me?" he asked them.
"This book of Richard Lean's isn't going to mean trouble just for Lord Dunscon and Emperor
Prosek with it's colorful portrayal of their ancestry," said Thom Mandrake thoughtfully, "Besides
raising thoughts for myself and Lee having family we knew nothing about somewhere around the
Manistique Imperium, there is also the problem created when that book mentioned not once, but
TWICE, a 'Secret NEMA base in New Mexico'. I believe that everyone assembled in our little
clique knows that it was referring to Base Morrigan to the north; the same base whose location
and existence we have labored so ardently to keep secret."
"My brother uses too many words, but yeah," said Lee Mandrake, "If this book has already

been published and distributed, and I don't have to tell you how long it takes for books to make
their way this far west, then the fact that Base Morrigan exists is out of the bag."

Martin nodded. That WAS a worry. The last discovery of the size of Base Morrigan resulted in
the Coalition States forming the state of Lone Star, when the Lone Star facility was discovered by
an archeological dig in what was then the Texas Badlands, the Pecos Empire. The Coalition States
would love to garner yet another such resource, as would any treasure hunters that read this story.
They were going to have to take some serious steps to see that Base Morrigan's location remained
their secret.
"There's something else you might want to know about," interjected Doug, interrupting
Martin's train of thought, "You know I was part of the NEMA contingent assigned to Base
Morrigan, from the same time the book was written about. It explains what happened to the upper
2 levels of Base Morrigan, at least, and probably what happened to the timers on our cryogenic
chambers there; they were probably screwed up by the EMP of the nuke that Kathy Prosek
launched. What you DON'T know, and I've never mentioned this before because I never thought
it was important, is that I was attached to the base as a technician to a top-secret project called
'PROJECT ENTERPRISE.'"
Richard Lean had really done his homework, thought Martin. The story's authenticity seemed
to be assured by this point.
"If those agents really did try to use the teleporter there, without knowing what they were
doing, I think I know where they are... RIGHT NOW," concluded Doug.

*****

Base Morrigan, North of Silver City, New West,

Northern New Mexico Territory (Old American Empire),
May 4th, 105 P.A., 2:00 A. M.

Martin, Wolf, Preacher Alpo, and Ruffy accompanied Doug and Tamara back to Base
Morrigan. They had decided to use Ruffy's NGR Mosquito APC because it was the fastest form
of transportation in the whole territory.
Captain Hal Rogers was waiting for them as Ruffy set the Mosquito down on the hangar deck
on Base Morrigan's uppermost working floor, what was originally the 3rd floor of the Pre-Rifts
military installation. Like Doug, Hal Rogers was one of the 8 survivors of the original 200
NEMA Peacekeepers that had been placed in cryogenic suspension only days before the Great

Cataclysm, now also known as the Coming of the Rifts.

"I have to admit that I'm a bit surprised by your visit, Martin," said Hal as he shook their
hands, "I hope this is a social call and not an inspection visit, although both are a bit unusual at
this time of the night."
"Actually, it's a rescue mission," replied Martin, "We may have located 4 more survivors of
your long sleep."
Martin gave a condensed version of the story that had been read at the Luckier Nugget Saloon
during the earlier hours of the night.
"I'm concerned about the obvious references to Base Morrigan," said Hal as he drove the
electric cart that was the main source of transportation inside the military base's interior, "And I'd
like to read that book myself as soon as possible, but what makes you think that you'll find the
missing 4 NEMA agents HERE?"

"I was a technician for 'Project Enterprise'," replied Doug, "That machine was always a real
pain in the ass. 20% of the time it was used, it would open a doorway similar to a Rift. The
problem was, when that happened, and they never quite figured out just why, the damned thing
tried to suck in anything that wasn't nailed down until it decided to close itself again. They were
impossible to shut down from the consoles. That's why the government had us all install a LOT of
safety measures, built right into the system. The one that had me wondering about the agents was
a safeguard that had to be installed after someone tried teleporting a subject without first
verifying that another of the prototypes were ONLINE. The subject wasn't ever recovered.
"Since then, whenever it was used and another of the prototypes weren't online, the subject (s)
patterns were stored in a buffer shared by ALL the prototypes until they could be recalled. It's
possible that their patterns might STILL be in the system, even after 200 plus years."
Hal gaped as his eyebrows beat a path towards his hairline.
"Do you mean to tell me that those poor 4 people have been in what amounts to being 'put on
hold' for the last 200 years?!"
"I know. It sounds a lot like a telemarketer's version of hell. That's why we hurried here to see
if we can get them out of there... assuming that the teleporter is still functioning after all this time,
and that none of the other prototypes were on at the time or since that time," said Doug.

Project Enterprise was on the lowest level of Base Morrigan, which hadn't been finished even
prior to December 22nd, 2098 AD. The skeleton crew that now resided at Base Morrigan these
days had been hard-pressed with reclaiming and modifying the areas that were again in use. With
room so abundant, no one had even thought of further expanding the base's boundaries, at least as
of yet.

Doug entered a 10-key code into the digital number pad beside the door to open it. The power
came on as the door opened, the lights flickering on for the first time in two centuries as the
ventilation system began replacing the stale air inside with fresh air. The last was actually a good
sign; while airtight, there should have been very little decay to the machinery inside, in spite of
200 years of neglect.
The seal-door technology was probably one of the largest reasons that Lone Star had been
such a find for the Coalition States' archeological team all those years ago. The huge underground
complex had been over 80% complete when it was found and opened. It was a fact not readily
known beyond the leaders of the Coalition States, and they wanted it kept that way.
Doug went to his old station and began powering up the computer systems while Ruffy and
Martin examined the vast array of machines in the room. The teleportation chamber itself was
unmistakable from the book's description of it. Ruffy could just imagine the heroic 4 standing
there, waiting to fire missiles into nuclear warheads. Now THAT took nerve.
12 huge power generators hummed to life. The teleportation technology apparently required
HUGE amounts of power to operate.
"4 minutes, 15 seconds to power up," announced Doug, "Once the system is active, then I can
access the buffers in the computer-transfer systems and see if their patterns are still present."
Everyone waited in a small mob, crowded behind Doug and his console, counting the seconds
away.

"We've got full power. Now accessing diagnostics. Hey, the old system IS still operational.
Now we're accessing the buffer subroutines, and...," Doug's voice trailed off as a look of
confusion crossed his features.
"Hal? What's today's date?" asked Doug.
"May 4th, 105 P.A.," answered Hal.
"No. Not in PA years, in AD years?" clarified Doug. The PA (Post Apocalyptic) calendar
system had been introduced roughly a century after the Dark Ages brought on by the Great
Cataclysm by the Coalition States. Since then it had become the most reliable system to count the
passing of time, so had been adopted everywhere. No one used the old AD (After Death) system
anymore.
"May 4th, 2203 AD," replied Hal, "Why?"
Doug rubbed at his tired eyes as he turned to the others and announced, "Because I now have
both good news, bad news, and a big mystery."
Martin was the first to venture, "What's the good news?"
"The good news is that I can confirm that the 4 NEMA heroes did NOT die in the explosion,

and that their patterns were, indeed, placed in the teleporter's pattern buffers as I suspected." he
answered.
"Then what are you waiting for? I know it's a risk, but get them out of there," said Hal.

"Hence the stipulation when I also mentioned that I had bad news. Their patterns aren't here
anymore. They were pulled out when one of the OTHER prototypes were activated somewhere.
They're gone," sighed Doug.
"You said you had a big mystery, also?" suggested Ruffy, still hopeful of some good news of
the 4 heroes that he could give to Ginger on his return.
"Yeah. The machine here has got a record of when the buffer was emptied, if not to where. It
was done on, by the old dating system, April 23rd, 2203 AD. Only TWELVE DAYS ago."
No one present could figure out the why, including Doug.

*****

Cyberworks Compound, ARCHIE 3 Oz Network, Eastern Seaboard, North America,

Old Aberdeen Proving Grounds, Aberdeen, Maryland (Old American Empire),
April 23rd, 105 PA (2203 AD)

Hagan Lonovich looked at the book in his hand and read the title again. Days of the
Apocalypse, by Richard Lean. He shook his head and said, "I don't know if this is a good idea,
Partner. We've had trouble before when we messed around with this extra-dimensional stuff. I
don't see why you'd want to bring out anyone inside that contraption for over 200 years, anyway."
Hagan was, of course, referring to the time that they had hired a local Shifter to demonstrate
how a Rift was opened. The Shifter did so, but unfortunately opened a Rift and was cut in half by
a plasma bolt before he could close it. It had allowed a force of Mechanoids, humanoid-hating,
killing machines to invade their complex, nearly resulting in the death of both of them before they
were eradicated.
ARCHIE 3 Oz's voice came to Hagan's mind directly through the telepathic link he shared
with the sentient super-computer.

'HAGAN, JUST THINK OF THE POSSIBILITIES! WE STILL HAVE THE ODD SCORE

TO SETTLE WITH MARTIN'S HEROES TO THE WEST. IF THIS 'PROJECT ENTERPRISE'

CAN ACTUALLY BE MASTERED, THEN WE HAVE ELIMINATED A GREAT DRAIN ON
OUR RESOURCES; THE NEED TO GET ANY OF OUR FORCES THAT WE SEND
THROUGH BOTH THE WILDERNESS AREAS AS WELL AS COALITION TERRITORY.
AND WHEN I EVENTUALLY MOVE TO DEAL WITH THE COALITION STATES, THIS
DEVICE COULD WELL PUT US AT THEIR VERY DOORSTEP, UNDETECTED, IN THE
BLINK OF AN EYE, ALREADY PAST THEIR FORMIDABLE OUTER DEFENSES. AND
WHO CAN SAY WHAT TECHNOLOGIES WE CAN RECLAIM FROM THE ARTIFACT
KNOWN AS SPACE STATION FREEDOM? THE POSSIBILITIES ARE ENDLESS, AND THE
RISK IS MINIMAL. UNLIKE THE TIME WE EMPLOYED THE SHIFTER, THIS IS
ENTIRELY BASED ON TECHNOLOGY, AND THAT I CAN MASTER."
"I'd still feel a lot better if you could access the data files on this thing in your memory banks,
instead," grumbled Hagan as he pat the metal head of one of his robot dogs to his right. Since the
incident with the Mechanoids, he never went anywhere without an entourage of guards.
'YET ANOTHER REASON TO BRING HOME THESE 'WAYWARD AGENTS. THE BOOK
ALSO SUGGESTS THAT 1 OR MORE OF THEM HAD ACCESS TO THE PASSWORDS
THAT WILL ALLOW ACCESS TO THE PROJECT ENTERPRISE FILES IN THOSE DATA
BANKS THAT ARE SEPARATE FROM MY OWN SYSTEM.'
"Still, if what you surmised from this book is true, then those 4 you intend to recover sound
DANGEROUS. I HATE heroes, Archie. They always wind up spelling trouble for us," groaned
Hagan.
'WE WILL STILL HAVE AN ADVANTAGE OVER THEM, HAGAN. FOR THEM, THEY
WILL HAVE NO IDEA THAT ANY TIME AT ALL HAS PASSED SINCE THE
DESTRUCTION OF THE WHITE SANDS MILITARY BASE. WE WILL FOSTER THIS
BELIEF TO KEEP THEM CONFINED TO THE 'SAFETY' OF MY COMPLEX. THIS IS WHY
YOU WILL BE DRESSED IN THE APPROPRIATE CLOTHING AND REFERRED TO AS
GENERAL LONOVICH OF NEMA. YOU WILL BE, IN EFFECT, THEIR COMMANDING
OFFICER. THE ROBOTS THAT WILL IMITATE CYBERWORKS PERSONNEL HAVE
ALREADY BEEN MANUFACTURED AND WILL ASSIST YOU WITH THIS DECEPTION.'
"I'm not wild about it, but we'll play it your way for now, Partner. We can ALWAYS kill them
later, at any rate," said Hagan with a shrug as he finished buttoning the jacket on his dress
uniform.
'OF COURSE. BESIDES, THIS DECEPTION MIGHT BE AN INTERESTING
DIVERSION. AT LEAST THE INPUT IT PROVIDES SHOULD BE UNIQUE, AT ANY RATE.'
Hagan knew well of his partner's insatiable thirst for knowledge of all types.
Further conversation was cut short as the 12 huge generators attached to the prototype whined
into high-gear and the teleportation chamber began to crackle with blue-white arcs of energy. The
sight of the Ley Line energy, working again inside the complex, was enough to renew Hagan's
misgivings. The last time THAT energy had been inside these walls, they had been invaded by an

army thirsting for his death.

Among the web-work of blue-white lightning bolts dancing about the interior of the chamber,
a golden, shimmering haze appeared. The haze separated itself into 4 columns of shimmering,
dancing energy. These columns shrunk, pulling into themselves to take on the dimensions of 4
distinct individuals.
Starting at head and feet for each one, simultaneously, and creeping inwards towards the
center of their masses. As the creeping glow receded, it left behind whole flesh and blood.
As the power finally faded, all 4 fell to their knees as Hagan moved closer to greet them, as
planned. He quickly jumped back, but too slowly as hot vomit splattered his polished shoes and
dress slacks, the 4 in the chamber emptying their stomachs of the remains of their last meal, over
200 years ago.
'INTERESTING. I WOULD SURMISE THAT TRAVEL BY THE TELEPORTATION
DEVICE CAUSES SEVERE NAUSEA IN LIVING SUBJECTS,' ECHOED Archie's voice in
Hagan's head only, using the psionic link between them as a means to 'whisper' to his human
partner.
'Really?' thought Hagan in kind as he grimaced at the mess covering his lower clothing and
anatomy, I'd NEVER have guessed. Better have one of the robots make me another uniform.'
Big Wade Adams was the first to feel the nausea pass. He had barely managed to sweep his
helmet off before his stomach had violently emptied itself. The hot bile still burned in the back of
his throat and nose, making his eyes water.
Raven was showing signs of recovering as well, but was even unhappier because her helmet
had stuck on her at a critical moment, resulting in the absolute certainty that she would be
shampooing her hair tonight. Strangely, he couldn't recall her eating corn...
Savannah wasn't far behind Raven in recovering. She had been forced to jump to one side as
they fell to avoid having Shemp land on top of her when he too collapsed.
Shemp seemed to be having the worst of it, of all of them, for some reason. He was still
having dry-heaves long after his system had to be empty. He was curled into a fetal position, his
arms and legs trembling with each convulsion.
Wade scrambled across the chamber to where Shemp lay, using all 4 of his limbs to propel
himself. Something was very, very wrong with their friend.
On his way, Wade finally noticed a man wearing a general's uniform, just standing there and
staring at the mess on his lower uniform and shoes.

Wade's voice, already impressive, fairly roared with anger over the officer's inaction as he

shouted, "GET A MEDIC, YOU IDIOT!"

Even as the idiot general stared back, the door behind him opened to admit a pair of
paramedics, carrying medical equipment and a stretcher behind them. Both bore the NEMA logo.
They made a bee-line for Shemp, without being told to.
'At least SOMEONE here is competent,' thought Wade.
Raven and Savannah had recovered enough to scuttle over to join Wade where he knelt by
Shemp. Ignoring the mess they had left on the floor of the chamber, Savannah pulled Shemp's
head to rest on her lap as the two paramedics arrived and began checking Shemp's vital signs.
"Love? What is it? what's wrong?" asked Savannah.
At first, Raven thought that Shemp was beyond hearing her, his eyes having rolled up into his
head to show only the whites as he continued to convulse.
"H... h... HURTS!" Shemp managed to gasp out raggedly, "L... l... like on... fire! E...
everywhere."
"What's happening to him?!" demanded Savannah shrilly, her own eyes more than a little wild.

The paramedics, incredibly, showed little discomfort at her screaming, practically in their ears.
"We need to get him to the medical center for better analysis," announced one of the
paramedics suddenly; a blonde woman with a fresh-scrubbed mid-western look about her. Having
never met her before, none of them had cause to recognize the face as belonging to Samantha
Hazel, Martin Hazel's wife, not that of the other paramedic as belonging to Toby "Ripper" Luke,
the descendants of two of their friends they had parted with back at White Sands Military Base.
Wade and Raven had to forcibly hold Savannah as the paramedics lifted Shemp onto the
stretcher. Holding him between them, they quickly carried him through the same doorway they
had entered by, into the hall beyond.
Wade and Raven did a double-take. The paramedics were MUCH stronger than they looked.
They had to be. At 450 pounds of flesh and metal, Shemp was far from a lightweight.
Hagan distracted them by finally stepping forward with his hand presented for shaking as he
and ARCHIE had originally planned, saying, "Welcome to the Cyberworks Complex of
Aberdeen."
Distraught, Savannah wrested herself free and punched him in the nose.

Hagan landed, flat on his butt, in the vomit that had missed him the first time around. Blood
was leaking from his nose and staining his starched white shirt.

'I TOLD you that heroes were trouble!' thought Hagan to his partner.
Wade quickly grabbed Savannah's arms again to keep her from launching herself at the
General.
"SAVANNAH! Get a grip on yourself, girl! That's a GENERAL that you just punched out!"
Savannah expressed just how unimpressed she was with Hagan's new title and rank in general
in language that, until now, Wade had never guessed that she knew, much less used.
"I'm a (*^&< POSTAL CARRIER! What the @!+$ is he going to do? Dock me a $#!+ day's
pay?!"
Raven pushed Wade away and held Savannah as the other woman broke down into tears, both
of them ignoring the mess in Raven's hair and the sour smell of vomit hanging in the air.
Having been in NEMA far longer than either of the girls, Wade rose to snap off a salute as
Hagan tried to find a way to get out of the pool of vomit with some shred of dignity remaining.
There wasn't any, but he tried anyway. He was NOT a happy camper at all.
"Sgt. Wade Adams, SIR! With your permission, we would like to follow our friend to check on
him, SIR! Sorry about Miss Savannah Jones' reaction, SIR, but she's volunteer militia and rather
upset at the moment, SIR!"
Hagan struggled to control his initial reaction before shouting, "Cpl. Argent!"
A moment after he called, a rather striking young man stepped through the doorway and
saluted Hagan crisply. Having not met the original before, they likewise did not recognize the
countenance of the young man as belonging to the robot that would eventually become Clay-Ton
Moore of Silver City, whom once wore this young man's exact face.
"Show these 'people' to the sick bay where their friend was taken. Afterwards, show them to
quarters and have them clean up. I'M going to go shower and change my uniform," ordered
Hagan as he stomped angrily out of the room.

"Great. That's probably going to be our new commander, and we've already managed to piss
him off... twice," sighed Wade as they fell into step behind Cpl Argent Goodson.
'INTERESTING,' thought ARCHIE to himself and Hagan, 'THEIR EXTENDED STAY IN
THE TELEPORTER'S SYSTEM SEEMS TO HAVE YIELDED SOME UNEXPECTED SIDEEFFECTS. THIS INPUT PROMISES TO BE MOST INTERESTING.'

THE END.