him.
The Port of Anchorage was under martial law. Army teams had been mobilized from Fort Richardson which was eight miles outside of Anchorage. The Arctic Warriors were in control. All points of access had been sealed. A wing of Blackhawk helicopters lifted off from Elmendorf Air Force Base carrying McKafferty and his team. They were flying directly toward a plume of smoke that looked like a colossal mushroom cloud. Part of its head had merged into the ceiling of clouds. Its base was five miles out over the water. McKafferty felt dwarfed by the sight. The towering darkness was like the rage of an angry God.
The local authorities were out of control. Calls had been placed to the White House demanding help. The governor was throwing a screaming fit and McKafferty was racing into the middle of the storm. His helo was vibrating badly as it cut through turbulent air. The engines were at their maximum power settings. McKafferty, his team, and everyone else at Elmendorf were wearing NBC suits – Nuclear, Biological and Chemical protective gear. The clothing was a major upgrade from equipment worn by soldiers who’d worked the scenes of the anthrax mail attacks. McKafferty’s communications officer tapped him on the shoulder. She was Lieutenant Alice Rivers, twenty-four years old, and on her first tour with the General.
“Sir, we’ve gotten word that CNN is sending in a crew to do a video shoot from the air.”
“Damn it! I knew they’d try to weasel around the quarantine orders. Send this message to Elmendorf: I want fighters in the air circling that port. Give ’em orders to drive off any approaching aircraft – hell, tell ’em to shoot the bastards down if they have to.”
“General!”
“Yeah right... leave off the part about shooting ’em down.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The helos swung in low from the east. McKafferty’s helo orbited the docks while three other birds landed. He watched his men disgorge from the crafts and fan out. He felt anger reddening his skin. Whatever the hell caused this devastation; he would put a stop to it.
A small private plane came out of the setting sun and swooped low over the docks. McKafferty saw the glint of a camera aimed out the window. Where the hell were his Air Force sentries? That looked like CNN going live right now. Things were unraveling. He needed to contain this horror until his people understood what was happening. If news of this spread, his job would get a lot tougher. He didn’t need political toadies crawling up his ass.
“Lieutenant Rivers,” he yelled. “Raise the operations officer at Elmendorf. I want to talk with him now!”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Goddamn reporters are coming in for the kill.”
“Sir, I have him on the line, channel eight.”
“Who am I speaking to?” said McKafferty.
“Captain Bennett, acting CO.”
“Captain, do you know who I am?”
“Yes, Sir, you are OPCON, General James H. McKafferty United States Army. Your communications officer made that very clear.”
“Well son, then you know how big a club I carry. If you don’t want to catch it swung full force against the side of your head, I suggest you get your fucking F16s in the goddamn air and over here right now!”
“Yes, Sir, your orders were received minutes ago and we’re processing them priority one. The Eagles will be in the air within fifteen minutes.”
“Processing, hell! Make it five minutes and don’t disappoint me, son.”
“Yes, Sir!”
McKafferty knew that Air Force fly-boy was probably raising the middle-finger salute right about now, but there wasn’t anything that an Air Force Captain could do about a General with full operational control of the mission. McKafferty switched his com-channel over to the helo pilot’s.
“Let’s swing this bird around and head on out to the civilian staging area.”
A police barracks had been selected as Safe-Point-One, a civilian staging area for police and rescue teams. The barracks was almost
The Port of Anchorage was under martial law. Army teams had been mobilized from Fort Richardson which was eight miles outside of Anchorage. The Arctic Warriors were in control. All points of access had been sealed. A wing of Blackhawk helicopters lifted off from Elmendorf Air Force Base carrying McKafferty and his team. They were flying directly toward a plume of smoke that looked like a colossal mushroom cloud. Part of its head had merged into the ceiling of clouds. Its base was five miles out over the water. McKafferty felt dwarfed by the sight. The towering darkness was like the rage of an angry God.
The local authorities were out of control. Calls had been placed to the White House demanding help. The governor was throwing a screaming fit and McKafferty was racing into the middle of the storm. His helo was vibrating badly as it cut through turbulent air. The engines were at their maximum power settings. McKafferty, his team, and everyone else at Elmendorf were wearing NBC suits – Nuclear, Biological and Chemical protective gear. The clothing was a major upgrade from equipment worn by soldiers who’d worked the scenes of the anthrax mail attacks. McKafferty’s communications officer tapped him on the shoulder. She was Lieutenant Alice Rivers, twenty-four years old, and on her first tour with the General.
“Sir, we’ve gotten word that CNN is sending in a crew to do a video shoot from the air.”
“Damn it! I knew they’d try to weasel around the quarantine orders. Send this message to Elmendorf: I want fighters in the air circling that port. Give ’em orders to drive off any approaching aircraft – hell, tell ’em to shoot the bastards down if they have to.”
“General!”
“Yeah right... leave off the part about shooting ’em down.”
“Yes, Sir.”
The helos swung in low from the east. McKafferty’s helo orbited the docks while three other birds landed. He watched his men disgorge from the crafts and fan out. He felt anger reddening his skin. Whatever the hell caused this devastation; he would put a stop to it.
A small private plane came out of the setting sun and swooped low over the docks. McKafferty saw the glint of a camera aimed out the window. Where the hell were his Air Force sentries? That looked like CNN going live right now. Things were unraveling. He needed to contain this horror until his people understood what was happening. If news of this spread, his job would get a lot tougher. He didn’t need political toadies crawling up his ass.
“Lieutenant Rivers,” he yelled. “Raise the operations officer at Elmendorf. I want to talk with him now!”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Goddamn reporters are coming in for the kill.”
“Sir, I have him on the line, channel eight.”
“Who am I speaking to?” said McKafferty.
“Captain Bennett, acting CO.”
“Captain, do you know who I am?”
“Yes, Sir, you are OPCON, General James H. McKafferty United States Army. Your communications officer made that very clear.”
“Well son, then you know how big a club I carry. If you don’t want to catch it swung full force against the side of your head, I suggest you get your fucking F16s in the goddamn air and over here right now!”
“Yes, Sir, your orders were received minutes ago and we’re processing them priority one. The Eagles will be in the air within fifteen minutes.”
“Processing, hell! Make it five minutes and don’t disappoint me, son.”
“Yes, Sir!”
McKafferty knew that Air Force fly-boy was probably raising the middle-finger salute right about now, but there wasn’t anything that an Air Force Captain could do about a General with full operational control of the mission. McKafferty switched his com-channel over to the helo pilot’s.
“Let’s swing this bird around and head on out to the civilian staging area.”
A police barracks had been selected as Safe-Point-One, a civilian staging area for police and rescue teams. The barracks was almost
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