First Strike

First Strike

*Author's Note: This is NOT a political story. It's a love story set in the backdrop of a nuclear strike on America. I'm a Libertarian, so any reference to any political issue is not an indication that I'm a "MAGA Republican" or some "bleeding heart liberal."

Since the pandemic I've taken a serious interest in China. Prior to that, I focused on Russia which is definitely a threat, but not as serious as China. China has publicly said it intends to be the world's dominate power by 2049, the 100th anniversary of the Chinese Communist Party. It has also said repeatedly that Taiwan is sovereign Chinese territory and that it will reunite the 'renegade island' with the mainland.

I don't get paid to write, and the only reason I do is because I enjoy it. So any expectation that my research be thorough and my writing perfectly reflect any given topic is unrealistic. In this story I discuss 'prepping' or being a survivalist. Ham radio comes up. I'm no expert in both, so if you see a flaw, let it go. I can't watch military shows that have improper uniforms. It drives me crazy. Hollywood has a budget. And staffs. I don't. No need to email me and inform me about the correct call sign letters or some nitnoid fact about living in a bunker, okay? It's just a story. A story you can read for free.

The specific scenario I lay out is unlikely. However, it's not impossible. I can easily see America getting dragged into a war with China or even in Israel. We're already financially involved in Ukraine, and things can spiral out of control very, very rapidly.

That said, it really is just a story. A romantic story, at that.

I thoroughly enjoyed writing it, and I hope you enjoy reading it.

Cheers!

*****

"Ryan? You working tomorrow?" his father asked.

"No. It's Saturday, Dad."

His father laughed then reminded him how many Saturdays he'd worked over the last couple of months. He knew because he owned the only construction company in Lander, Wyoming, the little town of about 7,000 he'd retired to after 37 years in the Navy.

Steven Griffin had been a vice-admiral which meant he wore three stars on his collar. When he finally hung up his spurs it wasn't because he wanted to. It was due to the Navy letting him know it didn't have another job for him. At that time he was the commander of the US Pacific Fleet and had every reason to believe there'd be a fourth star in his future and another command.

But when two ships collided at night, the old saying aside, something that he still couldn't believe could happen with all of the sophisticated electronics onboard both vessels, the Navy told him he was done. Like all commanders in any branch of the military, he was responsible for EVERYTHING that happened or failed to happen anywhere at anytime under his command. He'd been a thousand miles away when the collision took place, but it was still his responsibility. The two captains had been relieved of their commands as had their immediate CO (commanding officer.)

The Navy magnanimously let him keep his job, but he was forced to retire, and he knew that was the best the Navy he so loved could do.

His wife, Anna, was an author who wrote children's books, and she'd published over a dozen during the 25 years they were married. Between the two of them and the modest lifestyle they lived, Admiral Griffen had retired with a net worth just north of $2 million, not at all unusual for a flag officer, a term used to describe admirals and generals.

When they moved to Lander, a place they'd dreamed of living in and where they built their dream home, Steven realized another dream of his and bought a construction company from a man who'd owned it for nearly 40 years. He was ready to retire, and Steven wasn't.

He'd been a SEABEE up to and including his time as a rear admiral (two-star rank), but all admirals and generals were expected to be capable of commanding any unit in their respective service or any joint task force that included other services.

Something most people didn't know was that there were no promotions after a second star. There were only appointments made that required the consent of the Senate. In effect, it meant that some four-star or perhaps even the president had their eyes on some two-star and would then recommend him or her for appointment to three-star rank. The same was true for the four-star ranks.

So when he was nominated to command the Pacific Fleet and for the third star, he needed Senate approval. Once it came he wasn't promoted but rather appointed a vice admiral and given one of the most prestigious commands in the US Navy. He would later again require Senate approval to retire above the two-star rank which he received.

Post-retirement, Steven's guys and one tough gal, built their home with Steven pitching in himself as often as he could, as did his then 15-year old son, Ryan. Even Anna did a fair share of manual labor, but decorating was her forte, and she did an incredible job making the 3,800sqft, two-story house into a warm, inviting home. Before that, it was just a box, but her sense of style made it a dream come true.

Ryan was an excellent student, and with the exception of two Bs he got the year they moved, mostly due to missing the last weeks of school, he'd been a straight-A student all of his life. He loved learning, and when his dad bought the company, he turned his attention to learning construction and as much as he could about plumbing, HVAC, and electrical work.

He played sports in high school and was, by far, the most popular boy in school. He had the look of a surfer except that Ryan wasn't blond. He had very dark hair, was athletic, handsome, and also kind and polite. Their only neighbors, the Clausens, who were in their early 30s and had no children, had been more than a little concerned to see a teenage boy moving in.

Granted, they were a good 50 yards away and no one else was closer than a mile away, but still....

Their opinion changed, for one of them, anyway, after her husband was killed while flying in a gyrocopter. He loved flying, had money, and that allowed him play with all kinds of things that flew. He'd been an investment banker who, after making a ton of money, realized it didn't make him happy. He yearned for a simpler life, and he and his wife...landed...in Lander.

When he crashed into the side of a small mountain a few miles away from their home where he'd built a large helo pad, the NTSB came to little Lander to investigate. They could find no mechanical reason, and in the end, they were forced to declare it was due to pilot error. What they couldn't know was that he'd been deeply depressed for months, something he didn't share with anyone, not even his beautiful wife, Kodie. Evidently, not even peace and quiet was able to bring him peace of mind.

He was 33 and she was 31 when it happened, and Ryan spent a lot of time taking care of everything around the house for her. He was just a high school student, but she was duly impressed with his work ethic, his thirst for knowledge, and his willingness to do anything she even hinted about. He not only never complained, he was always happy no matter what he was doing and often dropped everything to lend her a hand.

Kodie Clausen (nee Barber) grew up in Portland, Oregon, and had moved to Chicago with her late husband where he made his fortune in less than seven years after graduating from the prestigious Wharton School of Business. When her late husband told her out the blue one day that he wanted to move to the middle of nowhere she was sick to her stomach.

They were a kind of real life "Green Acres" couple where the wealthy lawyer and the socialite from the 1960s show ended up living in the fictitious town of Hooverville so he could grow crops and live the American dream--while wearing a suit at all times. The show's theme song spelled out her feelings when it said, "Green Acres is the place to be. Farm livin' is the life for me," where the husband, Oliver Wendell Douglas was concerned. His wife, Lisa, was represented in the other half of the song, "I just adore a penthouse view. Darling I love you but give me Park Avenue."

She didn't need Park Avenue, but she loved the buzz of the big city, and couldn't imagine living in that kind of isolation. But like Lisa Douglas, Kodie Clausen followed her husband to 'Booger Holler'. Over time, though, she came to love the peace and quiet and even the stark landscape. Even after her husband's untimely death, she refused to leave and had no plans of ever doing so.

As far as finding another husband went, the pickins in Lander were less than slim. That was fine, too, as she was content to live alone, although there were times when the huge house she lived in felt more like a prison than a home. Those time were rare, though, and for the vast majority of her days, she loved everything about it and little Lander.

Ryan continued being there for her even when his mother died a year later from a cerebral hemorrhage. No one had even an inkling of a problem. There'd been no headaches nor anything else to prompt concern, but late one night while she lay sleeping, it happened. Steven didn't even wake up as she made no noise at all. She simply slipped the bonds of earth, and in the morning she was gone.

"What's cookin', Dad?" Ryan asked after being asked about his schedule.

"I have something I want to show you."

"Okay. What's up?"

"I want you to see it," his father, a man he deeply respected, told him. "We can take the dirt bikes if you want."

Ryan wasn't impressed that his dad had been an admiral in the Navy. What mattered to him was that his father was his best friend, and the two of them did almost everything together.

Ryan enjoyed the things they did but none of them more than dirt biking, and that was all his dad had to say.

"Sign me up! When do we leave?" he asked, now very interested.

"Right after breakfast. What's your pleasure? Bacon and eggs or waffles?"

"Um...all of the above?"

His dad chuckled as he looked at his son. Steven had been athletic, too, but he'd had to work like a dog to stay in shape. Of course, being a SEABEE, working like a dog was part and parcel of the job as junior officers got their hands dirty, too. Ryan could eat anything and still look 'ripped', and while his father was too old to be jealous, it just didn't seem fair.

The truth was he loved his son more than anything...except for his late wife, Anna. Now it was just the two of them, and they were as close as a father and son could be.

With full stomachs, the two men fired up their bikes as they often did on Sundays together, and headed to East Main Street where they then turned southwest until they reached a road called V1. Steven led them east out into an area Ryan had been to many times. But they kept going, and Ryan was surprised at how compacted the road was. It was all sand and gravel, and it should have been much looser as no one drove heavier vehicles out this far.

After a 30-minute ride, his dad pulled off the road and headed into nothingness for about a half mile. When he stopped, turned off the engine and got off causing Ryan to wonder what in the world they were doing out in the middle of nowhere

"Come on," his dad said after placing his helmet on the handlebars.

"What's out here? Scorpions?"

His dad laughed and said, "You'll see."

Steven had his GPS on, and after a walk of a hundred yards or so he stopped.

"Yeah. This is it."

"This is...what?" his son asked.

They were at the base of modest sized hill that was maybe 150 feet high, but other than that he couldn't see anything but sand and scrub brush in any direction.

"You ready?" his dad asked, a big smile on his face.

"For?"

He pushed a button on his phone, and Ryan heard a beep. His dad walked toward it and pressed it again. The beep was louder, and Steven stopped then used his hand to move some sand from a small, flat area that was about waist high.

Ryan saw a small box with a keypad enclosed in plexiglass. His father hit another button and the airtight seal gave way revealing the keypad. He punched in an eight-digit code, and when he did, a section of the hill in front of them began to move.

"What the...." Ryan asked as a door that looked exactly like part of the rock face of the hill slid open.

"Come on," his dad said with excitement in his voice.

"We've been working on this for three years."

"We? Who's we?" Ryan asked as he stepped inside.

"What do you think?" his father asked.

"Whoa! Are you serious?" his son replied as he scanned the area he could see in amazement.

"As a heart attack! Come on. Let me show you around."

"This is sick!" Ryan said as he got his first glimpse at a luxury underground bunker.

"To answer your question, in this case, 'we' is Minio," his dad explained. "They are the largest builder of underground survival bunkers in the world. They normally only build community shelters, but I know the owner, and he owed me a favor."

"Dad. This is...incredible! How much did this cost?"

"Half a million for the bunker alone. But it's virtually indestructible, and it can hold up to four people for five years or two people for ten, although there's only enough fuel for about seven. Come on, I'll show you where all of the propane and diesel tanks are then we'll take a look at the generators."

There were ten 1,500-gallon propane tanks buried in the 'hill' along with a half dozen 1,000-gallon tanks of diesel. The fuel powered a 25kw generator with a second such generator as a backup. The diesel was a tertiary system and had its own generator with backup.

All in all there was 2,500sqft of living space in addition to the generator room and another room with every tool needed to service anything in the shelter.

"Check out the chow," his dad said, that smile still there.

The next two rooms were filled from floor to ceiling with huge buckets and can after can of survival food neatly stored by type on metal racks. Ryan was blown away at the variety as well as the quantity. There were beans and rice, freeze dried fruits and vegetables, protein packs, powdered milk, powdered juices, and dozens of other foods and utensils.

"This kitchen is sick!" Ryan said when they got there, causing his father to chuckle.

It was almost as nice as the one in their home, and the three bedrooms were only slightly less nice. They were smaller but very cozy and comfortable.

"You've got four TVs, a ham radio, a computer, tablets, charging stations, and pretty much anything you could want."

The next room took Ryan aback.

"Dad? What's all this?"

Steven put a hand on his son's shoulder then said, "These were for you mom. There are clothes for her, you, and me in the bunker. I just haven't been able to remove hers, but I'll get around to it eventually."

None of them were clothes his mom ever wore. They were all brand new and either in a package or with a price tag still attached. As his dad said, the same was true for him and his dad, and Ryan wondered how he knew what to buy his son.

"Your mom told me," his father explained. "I just let her make out a list of items, and I ordered it. Same for her and for me."

Ryan then got a long look at the air filtration system which was incredible. The shelter was built on top of an aquifer and drew fresh water from it. Even so, there was an equally robust water purification system and a ton of replacement filters for it.

"You have to be able to live down here for long periods of time regardless of the situation above ground. I put most of the priority on ensuring we'd have fresh air and water as well as edible, nutritious food. And a bathroom to um...get rid of said nutritious food without stinking the place up."

The last thing Steven showed his son was a small workout room.

"We've got a stationary bike, resistance bands, a pull-up bar, and a bunch of other stuff to keep us fit. Oh, and the medical supplies are first rate, too."

The amount of information was overwhelming, and just before they left Ryan told his dad it was amazing but asked what it was for.

"Survival," he said without emotion.

"Well, yeah, of course. But what do we need something like this for when we live way out in...what did Mom call it?"

His dad laughed then said, "Booger Holler."

Ryan laughed, too, as he pictured her saying it with a sense of contempt in her voice.

"But let me explain something, okay?" Steven said as they got near the entrance/exit.

"I was in charge of the entire Pacific region for two years, son. I've been watching China grow by leaps and bounds, and trust me. We watched them like hawks--and still do. I know stuff that would curl your toenails. Let me just say they're very close to catching up with us militarily, and at the rate they're growing, by 2025 they could surpass us. They've openly said that their goal is to become the world's number one superpower by 2049, the 100th anniversary of the Chinese Communist Party, and there's nothing they won't do to attain their goal. Nothing."

He paused for effect then said, "China is currently working on a bio-weapon that will kill based on race."

"What?" Ryan asked, his attention now riveted on his father's words. "What does that even mean?"

"They don't have that capability yet, but when China saw how COVID devastated its population, it began working on bio weapons that will attack certain genetic markers in our DNA. That means it would have no effect on their own people but could obliterate an entire race be it black, white, Asian, or Hispanic."

"Jesus," Ryan mumbled as he thought about what that meant.

"I'm not trying to scare you, buddy. I just want you to know what we're up against. Not everyone in the world wants peace. Some want to dominate the world. By any means necessary."

"They're gonna invade Taiwan, aren't they?" Ryan asked, only partly understanding the significance of what he'd just heard.

"It looks inevitable to me. China has always believed Taiwan belongs to China just as Putin believes Ukraine belongs to Russia. I don't see Taiwan peacefully giving in, so yes, at some point China will have to act militarily. That will drag us into the war, like it or not."

"Because of microchips, right?"

"Partly. Taiwan is the only place on earth making 3 nanometer chips. The US is building factories in Arizona to build 5nm chips, but if Taiwan's chip manufacturing capability was destroyed, it would wreck China as much as it would the US and our allies. But if it can seize the TSMC--Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Company--where those chips are made, that alone would cripple the West. Our most advanced aircraft, both military and civilian, would be decimated. That would ripple across all areas of society that use these smaller chips. Even cars that use larger chips would soon be unable to function as the world supply would rapidly dry up. What we saw during the pandemic would look like a walk in the park."

He let that sink in before continuing.

"Should China invade, the chance of a major nuclear exchange goes up exponentially the longer the conventional war drags on. If China uses its nukes on us, we'll do the same. If that happens...."

Ryan knew it only took about 100 nukes the size of Hiroshima--and all of them are MUCH larger than that--going off anywhere in the world would cause catastrophic longterm climactic effects for the survivors. More than that was too horrible to contemplate as the temperature would plummet worldwide. Radioactive particles would be carried by air currents and contaminate land and cause cancers in animals and people. And it would be much worse than that. Those were just the obvious side effects.

As they got ready to leave, Steven showed his son the surveillance cameras and where the control panel and monitor was located.