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Chapters (32)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. ONE
  4. TWO
  5. THREE
  6. FOUR
  7. FIVE
  8. SIX
  9. SEVEN
  10. EIGHT
  11. NINE
  12. TEN
  13. ELEVEN
  14. TWELVE
  15. THIRTEEN
  16. FOURTEEN
  17. FIFTEEN
  18. SIXTEEN
  19. SEVENTEEN
  20. EIGHTEEN
  21. NINETEEN
  22. TWENTY
  23. TWENTY-ONE
  24. TWENTY-TWO
  25. TWENTY-THREE
  26. TWENTY-FOUR
  27. TWENTY-FIVE
  28. TWENTY-SIX
  29. TWENTY-SEVEN
  30. TWENTY-EIGHT
  31. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  32. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

An Army Master Sergeant, whose name, “Waltz,” was printed in block letters on his fatigues, led a contingent of security troops past Ford toward the train. He assumed they’d been assigned to guard the missiles.

“Alright, guys,” Waltz said, addressing the men. “Can’t fly them out and the roads are jammed.” He nodded at the train before them. “Makes this our best bad option. All goes well—and why wouldn’t it?—we’ll be in San Francisco in six hours.”

San Francisco? Ford contemplated the train. Missiles or no missiles, this could be his ticket home. He had to get on that train.

* * *

“Negative,” Waltz said. “Can’t do it, sir. That train is a national asset, not Amtrak.” A corner storefront, that was still more or less intact, had been converted into an ad hoc operations center. Worried-looking officers studied GCSS-Army maps spread out on top of tables, while aides rushed about, issuing and receiving orders and reports. Radios chattered in the background. TV sets flickered sporadically, providing intermittent news coverage of the unprecedented crisis. Ford was reminded of the frenzied relief efforts back in Waikiki. He hoped that Akio and his family were safe wherever they were now.

“Yeah, copy that,” Ford replied. “From the casings on those Minuteman-3 ICBMs, I’d say the digital module has been bypassed and you’ve prepped them for a full analog retrofit.”

“Is my jaw supposed to drop, sir?” Waltz said, unimpressed. “I get it. You’re EOD. But I have my crew and we know what we’re doing.”

Tre came forward to hand Waltz some paperwork. Apparently, he’d been assigned to the security detail on the missile train, even if Ford was still struggling to claim a spot. Ford tried hard not to resent that.

“Aim the pointy end at the monsters, right, sarge?” Tre said. He grinned at Ford as he headed out of the store toward the train. Ford hoped he’d be seeing him again soon.

“When’s the last time one of your guys had their fingers in a live bomb, sergeant?” Ford wasn’t taking no for an answer. “I’m a damn good EOD… and my family is in that city.” He looked Waltz straight in the eyes. “I’m on that train.”

It wasn’t a question.

* * *