Final Dawn: Season 3 (The Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Series) Read Online Free Page A
Author: Mike Kraus
place.”
“Sorry it took so long; this was all I could find.” David held up a clear plastic case filled with bandages, gauze, basic surgical tools and a small variety of medications. With a chunk of metal still embedded in his arm, he moved gingerly, not wanting to accidentally trip and drive the shrapnel further in. Rachel took the case from him and opened it, removing a pair of gloves, a small bottle of iodine, and several bandages and a roll of gauze. She motioned for David to sit next to her and then cleaned the area around the shrapnel, instructing him to keep his arm still despite the pain. After liberally dousing it with iodine, she gripped the shrapnel with her gloved hand and gently began to pull it out.
Rachel was by no means a medical professional, but her guess that the shrapnel hadn’t penetrated far into David’s arm was correct, and the metal was quickly out. Following that was more iodine and a quick wrapping of bandages to help minimize the bleeding. After tending to David, Rachel turned her attention to Marcus, though there wasn’t much she could do for him except clean both sides of the wound, bandage him up and put his arm in a makeshift sling. With all of their immediate injuries cared for, they all walked slowly back to the train and climbed inside.
“So,” David said at last, “What’re we going to do now?”
Leonard McComb | Nancy Sims
11:48 AM, April 21, 2038
The energy on the command deck of the Arkhangelsk was electrifying. A hum was in the air, carried on the backs of the crew members who hurried back and forth as they prepared the ship for its most dangerous mission yet. Although the ship had an official top speed of forty knots, Commander Krylov had ordered them to increase it by a minimum of fifty percent in an effort to get to the gulf as quickly as possible. They could launch the missiles before reaching the gulf if they had to, but they would not be in radio range of the area for a few more days. Without radio contact with Rachel, Marcus and David, they would have no way of knowing precisely where to target the missiles, assuming they would have to use them at all.
“How can you be certain that your companions are still alive?”
Commander Krylov and Nancy were standing around a chart table in a corner of the command deck, poring over a map laid out in front of them. Seated next to them with a pair of crutches leaning up against the wall, Leonard raised himself up as much as he could in his chair to get a view of the map as he responded to Krylov’s question.
“The last radio contact we had with them was before we hit Anchorage, but we got cut off, presumably because of the storms.”
“Storms?” Krylov looked puzzled.
“Oh yes,” Nancy answered, “these massive super storms. Haven’t you seen them?”
Krylov shook his head slowly. “No, we haven’t seen anything of the kind. But we haven’t been on the surface much as of late. Once we detected those nano-robots on our scanners, I decided it would be wiser to stay submerged.”
“Well, whatever they are, they’re huge. They take days to pass by, and they’re covering huge spans of surface area, with fairly short breaks in between them.”
Krylov sighed and looked back at the map, running his index finger along a path that had been drawn and redrawn several times already. “Then we’ll just have to make our move and hope that we can reach them once we get closer to the coast.”
A shudder came from somewhere deep in the bowels of the submarine and Krylov stood straight, looking across the command deck at the face of a nervous crewman. He shouted at the crewman in Russian and a quick response came in turn. It had pleased Krylov, apparently, because his demeanor relaxed and he leaned forward on the table once again.
“The engines are now running at one hundred and fifteen percent. We’ll be at one-twenty-five within the
“Sorry it took so long; this was all I could find.” David held up a clear plastic case filled with bandages, gauze, basic surgical tools and a small variety of medications. With a chunk of metal still embedded in his arm, he moved gingerly, not wanting to accidentally trip and drive the shrapnel further in. Rachel took the case from him and opened it, removing a pair of gloves, a small bottle of iodine, and several bandages and a roll of gauze. She motioned for David to sit next to her and then cleaned the area around the shrapnel, instructing him to keep his arm still despite the pain. After liberally dousing it with iodine, she gripped the shrapnel with her gloved hand and gently began to pull it out.
Rachel was by no means a medical professional, but her guess that the shrapnel hadn’t penetrated far into David’s arm was correct, and the metal was quickly out. Following that was more iodine and a quick wrapping of bandages to help minimize the bleeding. After tending to David, Rachel turned her attention to Marcus, though there wasn’t much she could do for him except clean both sides of the wound, bandage him up and put his arm in a makeshift sling. With all of their immediate injuries cared for, they all walked slowly back to the train and climbed inside.
“So,” David said at last, “What’re we going to do now?”
Leonard McComb | Nancy Sims
11:48 AM, April 21, 2038
The energy on the command deck of the Arkhangelsk was electrifying. A hum was in the air, carried on the backs of the crew members who hurried back and forth as they prepared the ship for its most dangerous mission yet. Although the ship had an official top speed of forty knots, Commander Krylov had ordered them to increase it by a minimum of fifty percent in an effort to get to the gulf as quickly as possible. They could launch the missiles before reaching the gulf if they had to, but they would not be in radio range of the area for a few more days. Without radio contact with Rachel, Marcus and David, they would have no way of knowing precisely where to target the missiles, assuming they would have to use them at all.
“How can you be certain that your companions are still alive?”
Commander Krylov and Nancy were standing around a chart table in a corner of the command deck, poring over a map laid out in front of them. Seated next to them with a pair of crutches leaning up against the wall, Leonard raised himself up as much as he could in his chair to get a view of the map as he responded to Krylov’s question.
“The last radio contact we had with them was before we hit Anchorage, but we got cut off, presumably because of the storms.”
“Storms?” Krylov looked puzzled.
“Oh yes,” Nancy answered, “these massive super storms. Haven’t you seen them?”
Krylov shook his head slowly. “No, we haven’t seen anything of the kind. But we haven’t been on the surface much as of late. Once we detected those nano-robots on our scanners, I decided it would be wiser to stay submerged.”
“Well, whatever they are, they’re huge. They take days to pass by, and they’re covering huge spans of surface area, with fairly short breaks in between them.”
Krylov sighed and looked back at the map, running his index finger along a path that had been drawn and redrawn several times already. “Then we’ll just have to make our move and hope that we can reach them once we get closer to the coast.”
A shudder came from somewhere deep in the bowels of the submarine and Krylov stood straight, looking across the command deck at the face of a nervous crewman. He shouted at the crewman in Russian and a quick response came in turn. It had pleased Krylov, apparently, because his demeanor relaxed and he leaned forward on the table once again.
“The engines are now running at one hundred and fifteen percent. We’ll be at one-twenty-five within the
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