Disaster Among the Heavens by Don E Peavy Sr (electronic book reader txt) 📕

/> The Command Centre was completely demolished – gone. Overhead, a dark, mushroom shaped cloud hung like the drapes of Dracula’s bed chamber, blocking out the early morning sun and forcing the eyes of the living to work beyond their capacity. Their work was made all the more taxing by orders that none of the wounded or dead, not even the dying, could be removed from NORAD.
Back at the make-shift Command Centre, pandemonium prevailed as soldiers and airmen tried to make sense of what had happened amidst the confusion of who was in charge now that the General of the Air Force had been killed. Every telephone line was busy with chatter back and forth between the Command Centre and the White House and the Pentagon.
It was into this tumult that Shannon, wearing a three-piece Petrocelli charcoal grey suit, and Rodney, dressed in a lime-green Nehru collared leisure suit with a peace sign made out of shoe laces draped around his neck, entered. When they stepped inside, Shannon first and then Rodney, an E.F. Hutton moment ensued as silence engulfed the room and all movement came to a halt.
“People, listen up. My name is Shannon McMillan. I am here on orders of The President. I am now in charge. Let me see all officers above the rank of Captain over here right now! As you were to everyone else.” Shannon spoke loud and forcefully. The noise and clatter resumed.
A major general, a brigadier general, a colonel, and two lieutenant colonels – all air force officers, came forward. The Major General spoke first, “Do you have anything in writing showing your authority?”
“Yes I do,” answered Shannon. He reached into his inside pocket and extracted a letter which he handed to the Major General who read it and passed it along to the other officers. The last officer handed the letter to Rodney who read it also and then returned it to Shannon.
“Where’s The General of the Air Force?” asked Shannon.
“Sorry Sir, he didn’t make it,” answered the Major General. “He tried to recapture the Command Centre and was gunned down in the attempt. General Dashel, the commanding officer here was killed during the explosion after he had gone after the General of the Air Force.”
“Never before have I heard of so many good men being killed so early in combat,” responded Shannon. He turned to face everyone in the room and said, “Listen up, people!”
Shannon continued, “The General of the Air Force has been killed in action. I know of no man who has brought such honour and distinction to the military uniform than my late friend. Let’s observe a moment of silence in his honour. It seems like only yesterday that he and I were fighting side by side in Africa against overwhelming forces. How swiftly do our yesterdays fade away.”
Silence engulfed the room. Some bowed their heads. Others stared blankly ahead.
“Okay, people, as you were!” ordered Shannon. The room returned to its former state.
Shannon turned his attention to the officers standing before him. “Okay men, we have got to seize control of this situation. Major General, you will be the new commanding officer here and my chief of staff. Brigadier General, you will be the Major General’s chief of staff and in charge of the new Command Centre. I want you to take charge now and get it restored to order. I also want you to set me up an office with a secured line where I can talk to The President. I want it functional in 10 minutes!
“Colonel, I want you to take charge of casualties. The two lieutenant colonels can be your assistants. Put one in charge of the dead and the other in charge of the living. I don’t want anyone leaving this place or coming into it without my express authorization. “Brigadier General, I want you to also make sure we have complete closure of this facility. I don’t want any airplanes, helicopters or birds flying over this place. Any questions?”
There were none. Shannon continued, “Okay men, let’s get to it. Major General, show me what we’re facing.”
“Just a minute, Sir,” cautioned the Major General. He looked across the room and beckoned for a First Sergeant to come to him.
“Sir, we need to get into some protective clothing.” The Major General removed his jacket and Shannon did likewise. Rodney followed. Soon, all three were dressed in white protective suits brought over by the First Sergeant and his assistants. The Major General and Shannon headed out of the building.
“What about me?” asked Rodney.
Shannon stopped in his tracks and faced Rodney. “What do you mean?”
“What am I to do?”
“Your time will come soon. Right now, just hang close to me,” said Shannon. He resumed his hurried walk behind the Major General. Rodney fell in behind them.
“What is that?” exclaimed Shannon as he beheld the crater left by the explosion. The Major General pointed to the dark, ominous cloud overhead but did not speak.
Shannon studied the cloud with meticulous care. He then surveyed the crater.
“That is where the Command Centre once was,” offered the Major General. He gave Shannon a quick summary of what had happened.
“What made them blow themselves up?” Shannon asked.
“I don’t know, Sir,” answered the Major General. “Maybe they did not want to be taken alive. Or, it could be they are buying time for those in the bunker to launch the missiles.”
“Okay, I need to report to The President. Do we still have visual of all the silos?”
“No,” answered the Major General in a dejected tone. “We had to ground our reconnaissance aircraft because of that cloud.”
“Okay, here’s what I want you to do. Get a team of your best men and issue them a lasso and a tool box and have one of each to stand next to a silo. Be sure that they stay out of the vision of the monitors.”
“Tool box, lasso? What on earth for?” The Major General was incredulous.
Shannon was not disarmed by the General’s questions. Like a competent and patient instructor, he answered, “Trust me on this General. It worked for Kubrick; it’ll work for us. You better get started.”
The Major General, accustomed to following orders he did not comprehend, turned and headed towards the makeshift Command Centre after giving Shannon a quick salute. Shannon returned the salute. Before following the general, Shannon turned to Rodney and said, “Rodney, see that silo over there?”
“Where?”
Shannon pointed to it and said, “See over there. Just follow my finger.”
“I see it. What about it?”
“I want you to stand by it and try to get a message to the people in the bunker. Let them know that we are not responsible for the blast, and that we are still considering their offer.”
Rodney looked perturbed. “How the hell am I supposed to do that?”
“I don’t know. Be creative like you were in Memphis. Hell, jump up and down, move your lips, maybe they can read your lips. Just try to get their attention.”
Rodney estimated the distance to the silo to be a little over a mile. He scratched his head and asked, “How the hell am I supposed to get over there?”
“We can’t risk a vehicle until we know how stable the ground is. You can run. You look to be in pretty good shape to me. C’mon, Rodney, I really need your help.”
Rodney stared at Shannon and said, “I know who you are. You are the clean-up man aren’t you?”
“The who?” Shannon grew increasingly impatient.
“The clean-up man. You’re the one America sends all over the world to clean up the messes it gets into. You are the one who assassinated Diem in Vietnam when he decided not to play ball with America any more, aren’t you?”
“Diem? Man, where do you get your info?”
Yes, you’re the guy I’ve heard about. We studied some of your exploits in my civil disturbance class at the academy.”
“Look, we are wasting precious time. Will you please get over to that silo before a missile is launched?” Shannon started after the General.
“And what the hell am I supposed to do if it is launched?” Rodney called after Shannon as the latter’s pace quickened. “I’m no cowboy!”
Shannon’s patience with Rodney was about expired. Still, he needed the young man’s help. He summoned the strength he received while working across cultural and language differences in the Middle East as he stopped, turned to face Rodney, and then pleaded, “Look my friend, we are trying to save a nation here. Work with me on this. I guarantee you all your questions will be answered in time.”
Rodney stood for a few more minutes before trotting off towards the silo. When he got there, he stood before it and started jumping up and down and waving his hands.
. . .
Derrick Hunter watched the flock of geese exit the ominous cloud and approach where he lay hiding in a bush. It was a ritual he performed every year about this time as the flock headed for the California coastline. Last year he had gotten off a volley of shots only to nab one of them as the rest flew on in mocked laugher.
His buddies laughed at him and continued to bring the matter up whenever they had a few beers. Derrick decided to come alone this year. He commenced firing a little earlier than ordinary in case the flock elevated its altitude and speed.
Derrick raised his 30.06 and fired. There was a loud squawk and within a few seconds a goose fall from the sky and landed right before him. The victorious hunter felt his heart race as his breathing got heavier in anticipation of another hit. He raised his gun again and fired. This time, two geese fell, then another and another and another until all the geese had fallen on top of Derrick and crushed him into the ground on which he had lain in wait of his quarry. He would not emerge to enjoy his Herculean feat.
. . .
Farmer Jack awoke to the aroma of the Maxwell House Coffee emanating from the kitchen. He got up and walked to the bathroom while he rubbed the remaining droplets of sleep from his eyes. Once there, he relieved himself of the night’s deposits into his bladder. Hurriedly, he brushed his teeth with Crest and gargled with Listerine. Finally, he threw a few handfuls of water on his face and dried it with a face towel which his wife purchased from her Fingerhut catalogue. Refreshed and ready to tackle another day, he made his way to the breakfast table.
“Ma, didn’t hear the cock crow dis morning. You?” Farmer Jack said as he entered the kitchen and took his seat at the table.
“Naw Pa, not a thang,” his wife answered. She batted her new Max Factor eyelashes but