William Johnstone - Phoenix Rising

“They will be welcomed into heaven as martyrs who died for the faith. Worry not about them.”

The Kishwan dropped anchor in Hampton Roads at 9 A.M. local time. It was a coordinated arrival; the Abdul would be in New York and the Sahil would be in Boston at exactly the same time. This had been carefully arranged so the mercy missions of the three ships would achieve maximum exposure in the world press.

Jawwad checked his watch. It had been agreed by the three martyrs that they would detonate the bombs at exactly nine-thirty. Jawwad watched the minute hand reach the number six, and waited fifteen seconds until the sweep hand reached the number twelve.

“Allah Akbar!” he shouted.

“Jawwad, why do you . . .”

The light was so brilliant that people as far away as Richmond saw it. A huge fireball rolled out across the water, touching the land on each side. The heat inside the fireball was hotter than the sun and the ship was vaporized.

At the same time the bomb at Hampton Roads was detonated, the bombs in New York and Boston also exploded.

Concurrent with the nuclear blasts in the U.S., one nuke was detonated in Spain, one in France, one in Germany, and one in Great Britain. Three nuclear-tipped missiles were launched into Israel.

The governments of Iran, Iraq, Libya, Syria, Afghanistan, Lebanon, and Saudi Arabia received a message from Caliph Rafeek Syed demanding that they recognize the Greater Islamic Caliphate of Allah, with him as the grand caliph. Every government contacted acquiesced to the demand.

Fort Rucker—Monday, July 30

Although it had been two days since the nuclear bombs had been detonated on American soil, Jake Lantz knew nothing about them. General von Cairns had been dead for almost two weeks, and not only had the Department of the Army not appointed a new base commander, Jake was convinced that DA didn’t even know General von Cairns was dead. For that matter, Jake wasn’t entirely convinced that there even was a Department of the Army anymore.

Lieutenant Colonel Dave Royal, who was director of the Aviation Maintenance Course, had contacted Jake shortly after the funeral, asking if Jake knew of anyone remaining on the base who might outrank him. When Jake said he did not, Colonel Royal asked if Jake thought he should assume command.

“I think it is entirely up to you, Dave,” Jake replied. “The truth is, I know and you know there is nothing left to command. Most of the officers and nearly all of the men are gone now. The only people left behind are those who have no other place to go.”

“I think you are right,” Colonel Royal said. “But I’m not one who likes loose ends, so if you have no objection, I think I will assume command.”

That was ten days ago, and Jake had heard nothing from Lieutenant Colonel Royal since that time, and wasn’t even sure Royal was still on the base. And that brought Jake to the moment of truth. He knew that there was no longer any reason for him to stay. His Army career had come to an end, and it was time for him to activate his survival team.

Pulling a yellow tablet from his desk, Jake began studying the names he had written. He had personally chosen everyone whose name was on the tablet, using three things for his governing criteria. First, each must possess a skill set that would be beneficial to the team as a whole, since he was convinced that they would be completely self-contained for a long time. Second, they must all be single. He had nothing against married people, but he was going to limit this team to no more than eight members, and spouses would be excess baggage. Third, he had to know them personally, and he had to like them.

The first name on his list was Karin Dawes.

CAPTAIN KARIN DAWES

If you had asked any of Karin’s childhood friends about her, they would all say that the last thing any of them ever expected was for Karin to wind up in the Army. Would they think of her as a nurse? Perhaps. All agreed that she was someone who tended to look out for others, but nobody expected her to become an Army nurse. And certainly no one ever thought of her being in a combat zone, though not because anyone questioned her courage or her physical stamina. Karin had always been very athletic.

Karin was a distance runner and a cheerleader, both in high school and at the University of Kentucky. She continued to run after graduating from college and last year she came in first place among all women in both the Atlanta and the Chicago marathons.

While in college, Karin fell in love and planned to be married upon graduation. But only three days before the wedding, Tony Mason, her fiancé, was killed in a car wreck. Karin was so distraught by the event that she joined the Army. She was sent to Afghanistan immediately after her training, and there, she encountered a captain with severe wounds to his face, side, and leg. The wound in his leg got infected and there was a strong possibility that it would have to be amputated, but Karin made a special effort to tend to the wound, keeping him dosed with antibiotics, keeping it clean and aspirated, and treating it with antiseptic, sometimes spending the night in the room with the patient in order to attend to it. The captain’s leg was saved. Dr. Metzger told the wounded officer, Captain Jake Lantz, that Karin had saved his leg.

It was not entirely by coincidence that when they returned to the States, they both wound up at Fort Rucker, Alabama. Karin thought she would never feel about another man as she had felt about Tony, but Jake Lantz had changed her mind. She would marry him in a minute if he would ask her, and if he didn’t ask her, she might just ask him.

SERGEANT MAJOR CLAY MATTHEWS

Tactical officers in Officer Candidate School can be particularly brutal on the officer candidates, and if the TAC officers find some peculiarity, they can make it very hard. When the TACs learned that Jake had been raised Amish, they used it as a tool to try to break him. They called him “Amish boy” and asked if he knew how to drive a car, or turn on a light.

Sergeant Clay Matthews was a TAC NCO, and one day when the TAC officers were enjoying a field day with Jake, Sergeant Matthews called the young officer candidate to one side, telling the others that he would “get the candidate straight.” When he was sure that the TAC officers were out of earshot, Clay spoke to Jake in a quiet and reassuring voice.

“Son, don’t let these TACs get under your skin. They are paid to be assholes and they take their jobs seriously. But I’ve been watching you, and the truth is you’ve got more sand than anyone in this class, including the TACs. Stick with it; you are going to make a fine officer, one I would be proud to serve under.”

Jake did graduate, then went almost immediately to college. After he got his degree he went to flight school, and after flight school he did serve with Sergeant Matthews in Iraq. During their service together, he took special pleasure in submitting Sergeant Matthews’s name for the Silver Star when the sergeant pulled four of his fellow soldiers from a burning Humvee, then killed the six militants who had attacked them.

For the moment, Clay Matthews, who was forty-eight years old and divorced, was the noncommissioned officer in charge of Environmental Flight Tactics, Jake’s department. At least he had been the NCOIC while EFT still existed.

Jake valued dependability above all else in the people he worked with, and Clay was the most dependable man, soldier or civilian, Jake had ever known. If you asked Clay to take care of a job, you could put that job out of your mind, because Clay would take care of it. He would be, Jake was sure, his most valuable asset in setting up a survivalist team. With him, Jake felt confident of success. Without him, it would be iffy at best.