Final Dawn: Season 3 (The Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Series) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Mike Kraus
hour.”
“Can this old thing handle that?” Leonard looked mildly concerned as he asked the question due in no small part to the ominous low frequency vibrations that were coursing through the vessel.
“The Arkhangelsk may be old,” Krylov said, with a slight note of warning in his voice, “but she’ll get us there. Right now we need to focus on what’s going to happen once we breach the canal and reach the gulf.”
Redesigned six years earlier, the Panama Canal had received a complete upgrade for the modern age. Twice as wide as it had previously been, the canal was nearly completely automated and its pumps operated off of a combination of geothermal and solar energy. The only human input required to pass through was to activate a control station, though the task was trivial compared to the larger goal. Once through the canal, the Arkhangelsk would have to travel as fast as her crew could push her to reach radio range with the area that Leonard and Nancy presumed Rachel, Marcus and David would be. Without direct communications with them, the crew on the sub would have no way of knowing if—much less where—they should be firing their missiles.
Leonard sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. “Just get us in radio range of Marcus and Rachel, Commander, and we’ll be able to tell you exactly where to put the missile.”
One of the command crew rushed to Krylov, a computer in hand, and placed it on the table. “Sir,” he spoke, in English no less, “we were able to reach the satellite. We’re getting live imagery now.” Krylov tilted the screen of the laptop so that Nancy and Leonard could see. Images scrolled slowly through the screen, showing roiling storms over the western section of the USA.
“Wait a second, that’s the satellite that Rachel and David were accessing.” Nancy couldn’t help letting the slightest bit of an accusatory tone slip. “How did you get this?”
Krylov held up the data stick they had taken from Leonard and placed it on the table next to the laptop. “Whoever put this together included access instructions for the satellite; it was designed that way, Ms. Sims. The person who made this wanted whoever found it to have full access to every resource left.” Krylov pressed a button on the laptop and an image on the screen froze. “And it’s a good thing, too.”
A massive storm was sweeping in toward the coast, directly toward the Arkhangelsk’s position. Looking across the bridge, Krylov shouted at the crewmen, raising his voice above the groans of the ship. “It’s time to submerge, gentlemen. Take us to five hundred!”
Shouts of affirmation came back and the submarine began to tilt forward, racing downward at a steep enough angle that Nancy and Leonard both clung to the table with white knuckles. Krylov smiled at them, remembering what his first voyage on a sub had been like, and wondering what was going through the heads of the two American civilians who had found their way onto his vessel.
Rachel Walsh | Marcus Warden | David Landry
5:58 PM, April 21, 2038
After talking for a few minutes about what they were going to do next, Rachel, Marcus and David all fell asleep on the floor of the locomotive, their bodies succumbing to the effects of both their wounds and exhaustion. With the train tracks both ahead and behind the train destroyed, they had to quickly face up to the fact that they weren’t going to be going anywhere. The destruction of the APC eliminated any hope of continuing on with it, as well, and the likelihood of finding any other vehicles nearby that would be in working condition was slim at best.
The first to wake up, Marcus quietly exited the train with Sam, walking slowly down the length of the train in the last few minutes of light they had. Night was nearly upon them, along with the edge of another set of storm clouds, and Marcus wanted to be certain that they hadn’t missed anything.
“Can this old thing handle that?” Leonard looked mildly concerned as he asked the question due in no small part to the ominous low frequency vibrations that were coursing through the vessel.
“The Arkhangelsk may be old,” Krylov said, with a slight note of warning in his voice, “but she’ll get us there. Right now we need to focus on what’s going to happen once we breach the canal and reach the gulf.”
Redesigned six years earlier, the Panama Canal had received a complete upgrade for the modern age. Twice as wide as it had previously been, the canal was nearly completely automated and its pumps operated off of a combination of geothermal and solar energy. The only human input required to pass through was to activate a control station, though the task was trivial compared to the larger goal. Once through the canal, the Arkhangelsk would have to travel as fast as her crew could push her to reach radio range with the area that Leonard and Nancy presumed Rachel, Marcus and David would be. Without direct communications with them, the crew on the sub would have no way of knowing if—much less where—they should be firing their missiles.
Leonard sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. “Just get us in radio range of Marcus and Rachel, Commander, and we’ll be able to tell you exactly where to put the missile.”
One of the command crew rushed to Krylov, a computer in hand, and placed it on the table. “Sir,” he spoke, in English no less, “we were able to reach the satellite. We’re getting live imagery now.” Krylov tilted the screen of the laptop so that Nancy and Leonard could see. Images scrolled slowly through the screen, showing roiling storms over the western section of the USA.
“Wait a second, that’s the satellite that Rachel and David were accessing.” Nancy couldn’t help letting the slightest bit of an accusatory tone slip. “How did you get this?”
Krylov held up the data stick they had taken from Leonard and placed it on the table next to the laptop. “Whoever put this together included access instructions for the satellite; it was designed that way, Ms. Sims. The person who made this wanted whoever found it to have full access to every resource left.” Krylov pressed a button on the laptop and an image on the screen froze. “And it’s a good thing, too.”
A massive storm was sweeping in toward the coast, directly toward the Arkhangelsk’s position. Looking across the bridge, Krylov shouted at the crewmen, raising his voice above the groans of the ship. “It’s time to submerge, gentlemen. Take us to five hundred!”
Shouts of affirmation came back and the submarine began to tilt forward, racing downward at a steep enough angle that Nancy and Leonard both clung to the table with white knuckles. Krylov smiled at them, remembering what his first voyage on a sub had been like, and wondering what was going through the heads of the two American civilians who had found their way onto his vessel.
Rachel Walsh | Marcus Warden | David Landry
5:58 PM, April 21, 2038
After talking for a few minutes about what they were going to do next, Rachel, Marcus and David all fell asleep on the floor of the locomotive, their bodies succumbing to the effects of both their wounds and exhaustion. With the train tracks both ahead and behind the train destroyed, they had to quickly face up to the fact that they weren’t going to be going anywhere. The destruction of the APC eliminated any hope of continuing on with it, as well, and the likelihood of finding any other vehicles nearby that would be in working condition was slim at best.
The first to wake up, Marcus quietly exited the train with Sam, walking slowly down the length of the train in the last few minutes of light they had. Night was nearly upon them, along with the edge of another set of storm clouds, and Marcus wanted to be certain that they hadn’t missed anything.
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