“And so Sir, Whiteman is out, we can fly an A-10 or two but that’s it. The B-2 force is history, there isn’t even scrap metal left. Our personnel have mostly escaped, but their families have been hit hard. The base housing is like the B-2s, just tiny pieces of scrap being blown in the wind. We’re going to need emergency services, disaster teams, you name it. From what we’ve been able to put together, we’re looking at twenty or thirty thousand dead. This could be as bad as Detroit or Sheffield.”

“That squares with our estimates General. I’m speaking with FEMA right now.”

“Mister Secretary, please, not FEMA. We’ve had one disaster here today already.”

Cochrane could almost hear the drumming of fingers at the other end of the phone. “That’s changed, the problem that caused the mess back then isn’t even here now. And there are things about this storm they need to see. I understand it changed direction and speed without warning?”

“That’s correct Sir. Was heading north-east, it suddenly turned west.”

“That fits some other pictures we have. General Cochrane, you hang in there. Help is on its way. President Abigor has a standing offer to send help for disasters like this. I’ve got a feeling he was expecting something along these lines.”

“Sending Baldricks Sir?”

“That’s right General. They’re good at digging and shifting wreckage. And I guess you need all the help you can get.”

Chapter Two

Cruise Liner “Carnival Triumph” Hellgate Bravo, Hamilton, Bermuda, November 2008.

“I can’t sit under the apple tree with anyone else but thee

For there is no secret lover that the draft board didn’t discover

They’re either too young or too old

They’re either too gray or too grassy green

The pickings are poor and the crop is lean

What’s good is in the Army, what’s left will never harm me