Roger Ellis - AK-239

We come running down the trail to the dock.

Jen stops and looks back toward the mountain.

“Should’a blown by now. If they cooled the reactor, no way anyone’s getting back into that mountain. Certainly not our hostage rescue team!”

I say, “So what happens now?”

Jen, “If they didn’t cool that thing off the next thing that will happen will be a hydrogen blast that will destroy the containment shell and then…”

A huge explosion knocks us to the ground.

We sit up in shock after a moment and look at the mountain.

I say,

“A big explosion?”

Every one of the mine entrances blows fire thousands of feet at the exact angle of that particular vein.

Jennifer says,

“Ya!”

If it wasn’t so deadly, it kinda looks cool, I think before mentally slapping myself.

Just then a giant fireball with tremendous force flies out of a submarine sitting quietly by two fishing trawlers in Kendrick Bay. It shoots some sort of missile at the mountain.

We had not even seen this sub sitting there quietly until now.

Meanwhile, on a beach nearby, I see two men standing.

Their silhouettes light up in an orange glow.

I hear one of them scream,

“What the fuck?”

Diary of Robert Stone

Christmas Day

“Is that a sub?” I ask.

Tony, standing next to me is just as shocked. He asks me,

“Is it Russian?”

I’m just plain annoyed, even more than usual, “How the hell should I know? I can’t see any markings on the damn thing.”

I pull out my Iridium Extreme 9575 satellite phone and now it’s working!

I call my wife,

“Yura tell the FBI to call SWAT, the Army, Navy, Air Force. Get everyone over here. Now!”

“A Russian sub just detonated a nuclear device on Bokan Mountain!”

Yura calmly says to me,

“Okay, chief, okay, calm down. I’m on hold with the FBI HRT here listen:”

“Happy Holidays and thank you for calling the FBI hostage rescue team in Washington D.C. If this is not an emergency, please hang up and call our main switchboard during normal business hours 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. If you know your party’s extension you may enter it at any time. If your calling about Internet related crimes, please press 1. If you’re calling about…”

Yura told me she could hear me in the background cussing and swearing.

Yura says, “Not now, chief, I’m on hold you’re just gonna have to be…”

Just then a phone recording says, “One moment please.”

Yura says, “Sorry, chief, false alarm. Thought that was an operator.”

Some pleasant elevator music ensues while Yura hears the phone recording say:

“Do you want to be one of the few, the proud, the F.B.I. may be looking for you. Call us today and find out about what exciting jobs …”

I can’t take this anymore.

Finally, after an eternity passes:

“Hello, HRT. What’s your emergency?”

Yura sounds absolutely calm as she says,

“This is the Ketchikan, Alaska emergency services operator. I have…”

I can hear the FBI operator rudely interrupt her in this snarky, little, monotone voice,

“What is your emergency please?”

Yura now sounds impatient: “Well, I’m trying to tell you if you would…”

FBI HRT: “Ma’am you’re going to have to speak slowly and calmly if you want me to…”

“Damn it, Yura put the little shit on the phone.”

Yura then says,

“Okay, I’m going to let you speak directly with the Chief of Police of Ketchikan, Alaska.

“Go ahead chief.”

I don’t remember my exact words but they went something like:

“A NUCLEAR DEVICE HAS EXPLODED HERE.”

“SEND THE MARINES, YOU DUMB LITTLE FUCK.”

After a long pause on the phone, a monotone voice responds,

“Did you people call earlier?”

Yura interrupts me saying, “Yes, yes, YES!”

In a monotone voice the FBI operator calmly and slowly says,

“Why didn’t you say so? I’m patching you through now. One moment please.”

“Wait, what’s the number? I’ll have my chief call you… Hello?” says Yura to no avail.

The HRT operator is already long gone.

“Damn it! Stone, I’m on hold again,” says a frustrated Yura.

Peterson Air Force Base (AFB), Colorado (CO)

U.S. Air Force Aerospace Defense Command Center

(NORAD)

Christmas Day

This is the new, above ground, U.S. Air Force Aerospace Defense Command Center located at Peterson Air Force Base in Colorado. The old Command Center was located deep within Cheyenne Mountain but since the end of the Cold War the Pentagon, in its wisdom, wound down most operations in the mountain!

The war room looks like what you’ve seen in movies and a larger version of the Russians Bokan Mountain command center that was just blown to hell with one exception:

Christmas decorations are everywhere. Large draping red and green garland drapes around the screens show all of North America.

Small brightly lit Christmas trees adorn many of the desks.

The atmosphere looks professional but very festive.

General Norton is looking at all sorts of red lights going off in the Southeast Alaska sector of his North America map.

General Norton says, “What the hell? And on Christmas Eve too!”

“Excuse me sir, we have Ketchikan on the speaker.”

Where the hell is Ketchikan? says the general.

A very nervous, nerdy, little airman with glasses says,

“I believe it’s in Alaska, sir!”

The general really doesn’t think this could possibly be something with which his valuable time should be wasted,

“Have we verified their identity?”

“Yes, sir. FBI HRT Gold team is en route and their commander is on the phone.”

The general breathes a big sigh and then says, “John, what is all this?”

John A. Smith is the Gold Team leader and these guys obviously know each other. John A. Smith answers the general saying,

“I’m anxious to hear as well, general.”

Stone’s voice suddenly blurts out over the speakers:

“Hello? Hello? Is anybody there?”

“Send the fuckin’ Navy.”

“Send the fuckin’ Marines.”

“Send ‘em all, damn it!”

“Who is this?” asks general Norton.

“Robert Frickin’ Stone, Chief of Police, Ketchikan Alaska. Who the hell is this?”

“This is General Norton NORAD.”

“NORAD my ass! More like Gonad!”

“How the fuck does a Russian sub detonate a nuclear weapon in my town, damn it!” retorts Stone.

The general takes him off the speaker. The general looks to his assistant,

“He has a fouler mouth than me!”

The general looks around the room,

“MWC? Can you confirm this?”

MWC is the Missile Warning Center located in the same complex.

MWC airman stands, “Satellites picked up a small light & heat signature in the area moments ago.”

“Damn it! Now I’m going to start cussing and swearing.

Jerry from the FBI HRT Gold Team says,

“We’ll be there in ten!”

The general adds, “We’re gonna need more than a hostage rescue team if we’re taking on a Russian sub. What kind of sub is it? What assets are in the area?”

Another airman speaks up,

“Sir, we have two F35s off the Ronald Reagan. They’re 47 nautical miles away.”

“Are they armed?” asks the general.

“Yes, sir, each have two — 500 pounders.”

“Reroute. Send them here. ASAP. And give me an ETA!”

“Yes sir!”

“And put that foul mouth back on the speaker. This is General Norton again. Can you identify the submarine?”