Venom of the Apocalypse

Chapter 1

They tell me that I am a god, but that doesn't mean I can perform miracles.

Dad, please! You've got to do something! my daughter, Lori, pleaded from the backseat of our four-door Wrangler.

We had driven down from the mountains to get supplies in Boulder, something we had done every month since moving to Colorado six month before. And on every trip, things looked progressively worse on the front range, culminating in this moment when we had just pulled into the grocery store's parking lot. Four men with guns surrounded an innocent-looking brown Labrador and were trying to coax it to come home with them for supper. Judging by their rough motorcycle-gang looks, the Lab wouldn't be the guest of honor, but the main course. With the collapse of the economy, the food supply was in shambles. Hamburger could be had on sale for ninety-nine dollars per pound, but stray Labrador was free. The dog's friendly nature made it instinctively wag its tail, but hard lessons about the atrocities humans were capable of also made it skittish. I could identify with that. Every time one of the men went to grab it, it jumped nimbly away, so far still refusing to bite.

Many had expected human civilization to go out with a bang of guns and bombs, but instead, it was dying a slow agonizing death, fading out of history with a whimper. I was designed to handle guns and bombs, not whimpers, leaving me helpless to assist humanity. The United States of America was a shell of its former self; France was now the world power, and they made sure everyone understood that. Their president, a woman named Monique Moreau, had consolidated the power accumulated by one called Samael. Many believed Samael was the antichrist prophesied to come, but he was like me, an alien from another dimension and nothing more. They tell me that I killed him, but I can't remember the confrontation. They've told me a lot of crazy things that nearly made me split my gut with laughter, but then I saw the videos. Apparently, I could fly at one time, my strength rivaled that of the strongest movie superheroes, bullets bounced off me, and I even served as the president of France—although not the power hungry France we have today. But most disturbing, to perform these feats I fed on human blood.

I sometimes wonder if the videos they showed me were doctored for some perverse reason, but then I am confronted with evidence that makes me question everything. I am still as strong as ten men, a knife cannot cut me, and my senses are acute beyond anything nature could design. Unfortunately, the ability to fly and zoom around at incredible speeds seems to have left me, as that would have been very useful for hunting elk and bear. Post-apocalyptic mountain life is hard. Thankfully though, the thirst for human blood has also fled my body, but bloody rare meat is my favorite.

Just talk to them, Mike. Maybe they will recognize you and run away, my new bride, Karen, said from the passenger seat.

Like me, Karen is supposed to be an immortal, but a bad one, a demon according to my daughter. Also like me, Karen has no memory of what had transpired in Europe, but somehow we had formed an intense bond that I couldn't imagine letting slip away. Demon or not, I felt she was part of me forever. It took several months for my daughter to accept this, but trust eventually came after Karen did everything she could to earn it. Karen really is a wonderful woman, and I consider myself a lucky man.

Dad, they're going to shoot it! Lori cried.

Okay, okay. Wait here, I said. I opened the door and got out.

The sadistic hunters were about a hundred feet away next to the cinderblock side wall of the store. A few curious onlookers watched from a distance but were smart enough not to interfere. I closed the door, knowing that Karen would look after Lori should something bad happen, and made my way through the parking lot. Several expensive Harleys sat to my left with California plates. I considered tipping them over to get their attention but decided that would hinder their escape. I wanted them gone fast so that I could get on with my shopping trip and then get back to work. Work, there was always more than enough to go around. It was, after all, the end of the world.

One man sighted down the barrel of his rifle, seeming tired of playing games with the dog.

Hey! I shouted, picking up the pace. All four looked in my direction and the dog brilliantly took advantage of this and bolted between them. Instead of running away though, it ran straight for me with tail wagging. My hand suffered an affectionate lick, and then the animal took up position behind me as if I were an impenetrable wall that the men couldn't get through. Canines often seem to have better instincts than their two-legged mammalian cousins do. Four hunting rifles swiveled and bore down on me. I stopped ten feet from the savages.

Give us the dog and we'll let you go, the head savage said. His teeth were brown, his beard scruffy, and his long stringy hair looked as if it hadn't seen water in months.

Either come and take it, I replied. Or leave.

That's an easy enough decision. In unison they stepped forward and fanned out, hoping to surround me.

Perhaps they expected me to back away, quivering in fear, which is probably why they paused in confusion when I also boldly stepped forward.

Stop! the leader ordered. I reached for the barrel of his rifle and he fired.

Ouch! Fuck, I'm hit! the one to the right blurted, dropping his gun.

I glanced at him and saw blood seeping from his left arm. The bullet had ricocheted off my hand and had found him. I grabbed the barrel of the stunned leader's rifle and yanked it away. Behind me, the dog yapped, sounding happy with newfound confidence. Confronted with this unexpected turn of events, I saw the third man's finger tighten on the trigger with my eagle-like vision. I flung the rifle at him. It contacted the side of his head hard enough to rip his ear. He dropped to his knees, crying out in pain. Behind me, the fourth man yelled. I turned and saw the Lab bite into his leg. Before the man could bring the butt of his rifle down on the dog's head, I lunged and sent a fist into his chest that shattered ribs and sent him flying back several feet. The dog smartly released its grip and barked victoriously. Behind me, the locals clapped. They knew who I was; my strength had become legendary.

You haven't lost your touch! Karen said, coming up next to me and then moving forward to gather up weapons.

I don't think they recognized me like the last ones did. Going for dog is a new low though. You were supposed to stay with Lori.

We had faith in you, Dad, Lori said from behind. I turned and found her kneeling, affectionately petting the dog. Can we keep her?

That's another mouth to feed. Things are getting bad in the world you know.

I'm sure she can fend for herself. Please? She looked up with her beautiful brown eyes pleading, and then the dog joined her with a similar look. I caved.

Fine, but she's your responsibility. I turned back to the men who were slowly standing. Go back to California. You're not wanted here.

The leader looked about to argue, reconsidered, and the four of them hobbled to their motorcycles. They mounted the vehicles, and then one yelled, You will regret this! There are more of us! More than you can imagine! This is our country now! The Harleys started, drowning out any possible reply with thunderous cacophony. They drove away, and I hoped would hightail it back to whatever cesspool they crawled out of. Boulder had enough problems to deal with now days.

C'mon, I said. Let's get what we need and get home.

Government enacted price controls had failed within the first month of the New Order, a plan put in place by former Secretary of State Carl Banneker, now President Banneker, and a personal friend. The U.S. Dollar became worthless shortly thereafter, forcing citizens to either trade services for goods or use precious metals to get what they needed. This, in turn, led to the further collapse of the government as the tax base dried up. Without cash, the military shriveled to a skeleton crew of those who could launch what remained to protect the country—the nukes. Businesses fled overseas or just closed without notice, farmers and ranchers hoarded food for family and friends, water treatment ceased, and electricity was sporadic. Federal law enforcement was also non-existent, which bled down to the local departments, some of which disbanded, while others formed into local militias that ruthlessly protected their territory. The gunslinger days of the Old West had returned, but with better weapons and less justice. Outside our little mountain oasis, life was hell, but stepping into the store reminded me that hell was just a whisper away.

With all the windows bricked up, the grocery store resembled a fortress more than a local market. We entered through the only door, coming into a front vestibule where a man sat behind bulletproof glass determining who could proceed further or not. Two other men armed with machine guns stood by the door that led into the store proper. A woman with a crying baby in her arms was pleading to the man behind the glass.

Please, Cecil! she cried. We were raided and have nothing left!

I'm sorry, Rhonda, the man said in a kind but firm voice. The rules are not negotiable. If we make one exception, the whole town will storm us.

What's going on? I asked, stepping into the conversation. Rhonda turned around.

Mike! she said. Some people raided us, and now we have nothing! She held the noisy baby towards me. Charlie hasn't eaten since yesterday and they won't let us in to get food!

I looked questioningly towards Cecil, wondering how he could turn the single mother down. Behind the thick lenses of his glasses, I saw guilt.

It's a thousand minimum in silver or gold to get in, Mike, he said. She only has one-fifty. That won't even buy a gallon of milk.

It'll buy a quart! she yelled.

Easy, easy, I comforted. Karen, can we help her out? Karen stepped forward, her fingers already unzipping the fanny pack around her waist. Inside, gold coins jingled. Before our move west, and before the collapse of civilization, we had converted much of our considerable assets to jewels and precious metals. It hadn't been a genius move, just logical, as most realized when the price of food began to double daily.

Here you go, Karen said, handing Rhonda a Gold Eagle coin, now valued at around five-thousand dollars in the new economy.

Oh my goodness, thank you! she exclaimed, giving Karen and then me a hug with her free arm.

Buy powdered milk, and get some seeds if they have any, I said. You need to start growing your food.

I will! I will! She hurried to the door, which was opened by someone from inside once approval was granted. Rhonda gave us one more heartfelt thank you and then vanished inside.

Do we have enough to be deemed worthy to live? I asked Cecil, who was often forced to play the roles of savior or executioner, usually condemning those most in need. In that aspect, society hadn’t changed much—the rich get richer, the poor get screwed.

Of course. I'm sorry, Mike. The owner would send me packing if I made an exception to the rules.

Unfortunately, I understand. Times are strange. Can we bring the dog in to fit it for a leash and collar? I'll pay if it damages anything.

Sure. It seems like a good animal. I watched the video feed from the outside cameras.

Your guys could have helped it.

We only worry about the inside, it's the—

Rules, I finished for him. Thanks.

As the door opened for us, the satellite phone on my hip briefly vibrated. With electricity scarce, sat phones were the only reliable means of communication, and those were only issued by the government to their most important leaders. I pulled it out and saw a text from my friend and former Navy captain, now admiral, Troy Thomas.

What is it? Karen asked.

A message. It must have come through while I was dealing with the bikers. Troy says to call him, it's urgent.

He must need some fly-fishing advice again. We'll meet you inside.

Okay. As the two women and well-behaved dog went into the store, I stepped outside to get a signal from the satellite. In the intense high-altitude sun, I pressed the preprogrammed button that would ring the phone of Admiral Thomas.

Mike! he answered immediately. We have a situation.

This isn't about fishing? I joked, having become quite the river angler.

No. The report I got last week says that Homestead is ready. True?

Yes, we just finished stashing the MREs. Solar, wind, and hydrothermal are all online. Why, Troy?

Negotiations with France have broken down, not that anyone with a right mind would consider surrender or we will nuke you as negotiations.

Surely there must be a way we can work with them while keeping autonomy?

They refuse to consider that. We're the last country that's a threat to them, and they want that threat gone.

So what's the plan?

We're on our way out, Mike. I'm on Air Force One right now with the president. We'll helicopter in from Denver so be ready.

If you are coming out here, then something else is happening. Tell me everything, Troy.

Operation Venom Apocalypse, Mike. Venom Apocalypse is a go in two hours. See you soon.

No, they can't do that! I yelled, but the line was already dead. A cold shiver ran through my body despite the sun's warmth.

Venom Apocalypse was conceived as the last hope to save the United States; it involved a first-strike nuclear attack on every country deemed a threat, and since the French Empire now spanned the world, so too would Venom Apocalypse. I slid the phone into its holder and walked back inside; trying to figure out how to tell my daughter that she might have to spend the next five years underground, because without a doubt, the French would shoot back.

Chapter 2

Once inside the store, I looked at the select people who could qualify to get in, and felt a deep sadness. I wanted to save them should the Denver area go up in nuclear flames, but I couldn't. Food was already scarce, and would be nearly nonexistent once fallout polluted the land. I pushed a shopping cart down an aisle, loading it with peanuts, jerky, and canned goods.

There you are! Rhonda exclaimed when she turned into my aisle. Thank you again for your kindness. Little Charlie giggled happily in the shopping cart seat, suckling on a cookie and making me feel even worse—this could be his last day of life. I wanted to bring them to Homestead, but I had already gained a dog and a Presidential entourage to feed on this trip. Plus, if I told her what was about to happen, she might want to bring her extended family and friends.

Don't mention it, I replied weakly.

I got powdered milk and some seeds just like you suggested.

That's good. Seeds will be useless in radiated soil and you and Charlie will die.

What's wrong? You seem upset, she observed.

Can you do me a favor? I asked.

Absolutely!

Save some of the money we gave you and use if for gas. I had to try something so that I could continue living with myself. Take Charlie up to the mountains for a couple days. Vail or even Glenwood Springs would be better. Can you do that?

Why, Mike? Concern flashed across her eyes.

I had a run in with a motorcycle gang outside.

Yeah, they’re the ones who raided my place while we were out for a walk. They drove away just as we were returning. If we had been home…

It wouldn't have been good. They warned they'll come back with reinforcements, and I'm just worried for you. Take a small trip, which will give me time to deal with them if they do decide to come back. Please?

Sure, Mike. That sounds like a good idea.

I exhaled with relief. Thank you! I'm sure Charlie will love the adventure.

I don't know. He's not too fond of road trips yet. So how's mountain life treating you up there?

I realized she wasn't taking my road trip idea seriously, but with two hours until America launched its nuclear arsenal, I didn't have time to convince her. Guilt would be my lumpy pillow for life. Good. Actually, I really need to get back home, I said. Lots of work to do.

But what if the gang returns like you said? Don't you need to be here to deal with them?

Whoops.

I'll get my family home then return.

Mike, are you sure there isn't something else?

Just head into the mountains when you're done, okay? I've got to go. I pushed my cart away leaving her staring at me in confusion.

I found Lori in the next aisle over, a pink leash in her hand attached to a pink collar around the dog's neck.

That should provoke fear in the enemy's hearts, I said.

It's the last one, she replied. Dad, it's a thousand bucks. Is that okay?

No, but get it anyway. Where's Karen?

Picking up the order from the butcher.

Okay, let's go.

What's gotten into you? she asked. You seem flustered.

I'll tell you when we get out of here. I walked in the direction of the meat department with her following. As I went, I piled more food in the cart until it was nearly overflowing.

That's a lot of cereal, Lori said from behind. Should we get some dog food?

You said she could fend for herself.

Sadie.

Huh?

I'm going to call her Sadie, and a little food might be nice to get her going.

Fine. Go grab a cart and get some, and then meet us at the checkout. Hurry. Understand?

Sheesh, if I didn't know better I'd think you were afraid of something.

I stopped and faced her. Just hurry.

She gave me a confused look just as Rhonda had, and then her face grew serious. "You are afraid of something."

Yes.

Okay, I'll meet you up front. She hurried away with Sadie in tow, and I continued on to the meat department.

The butcher loaded Styrofoam containers full of meat and dry ice onto a pushcart as Karen checked the contents of each and wrote it down on the clipboard she held.

Almost done? I asked.

Just a couple more. They only had ten pounds of beef left, and a couple chickens. No pigs, but some wild boar. Most is venison, roasts mainly, but some ground, and even some sausage. I stayed away from the rodents. Hope that's okay?

Sure, I said as the butcher walked away on another trip to the freezer.

And we've always got whatever we can catch.

Maybe not much longer. Troy just told me the president is headed our way.

What?

Negotiations with France broke down. We have to hurry.

Is France invading? she asked.

If not now, they will once we start nuking them.

Nuking? They're going to use nukes?

Yeah. Operation Venom Apocalypse. Like me, Karen had been briefed on why they built a bomb shelter below our cabin. Homestead was designed to be impenetrable and self-sufficient in the event of an invasion or a nuclear war, and it was also purposefully located underneath the home of two immortals should they be required as a last line of defense. My fellow immortal looked at me with newfound fear in her eyes.

How long? she whispered as the butcher returned with two more containers.

Less than two hours.

That's it, the butcher said. How have you been, Mike?

Better. Thank you very much, Jerry. We're in kind of a rush. Karen took my cart while I pushed the heavier pushcart.

You're not going to verify the last boxes? Jerry asked after us.

We have sort of an emergency. Sorry, but thanks again! Karen replied as we walked away.

Traversing from the back of the store towards the front, I noticed that the aisles had become deserted. Where is everyone?

There. Karen pointed to the front of the store where a small gathering of people stood around a ceiling mounted television. Most of Hollywood had faded away, but the news still pumped out daily depression, delivered in large doses by satellite to those who had power to receive it. I saw an anchor talking on the television, but couldn't hear him yet. At the bottom of the screen though, I did see the words 'Breaking News: Air Force One Shot Down'. We walked faster.

As we came up to the back of the crowd, a cashier used the television remote to turn up the volume. I have just been informed that we have an update from our Washington correspondent, the anchor said. The image flipped to a woman standing in front of the White House.

Thank you, Blake, she began. As you can imagine, pandemonium reigns in the nation's capital. We just received a press release that several military aircraft crossed into the United States from Ontario, Canada. It is believed that they intercepted Air Force One and shot it down. President Moreau of the French Empire has claimed responsibility and… She paused, looked down at a piece of paper. When she looked back up, her lips trembled and there was a glimmer of moisture in her eyes. And has declared war on the United States. She took a deep breath. President Banneker is presumed dead. I repeat, President— The image flickered and then went black.

The people in front of me began to murmur worried thoughts to each other, while my own mind churned out possibilities. Not thirty minutes before the attack, Admiral Thomas had told me he was on Air Force One with the president. Had our call been intercepted? If so, then the French might have an idea of what Venom Apocalypse was, and circumvent such an attack with one of their own. Assassinating the president could serve the purpose. While I wasn't a fan of French rule, it was probably a better option than destroying the world with nuclear bombs, but then the original anchor returned and destroyed all hope.

This just in, he said, appearing shaken. Just as he was about to speak again, he turned his head and looked to someone off screen. He returned his swollen red eyes to the camera and said in a somber voice, It is best you see for yourselves. We have an affiliate in Arlington, Virginia with footage.

His image faded, replaced by a shot taken from a tall building. In the distance, a dark and gray mushroom cloud flickering with lightning bolts billowed into the sky. Oh my God! Oh my God! a man out of view yelled. They nuked DC! God help us! Look! A missile is—

And then the television went black with a little banner popping up that read signal loss. The anchor from New York City failed to return.

I stood in shock with memories of a similar catastrophe darting teasingly close to my conscious mind before fading once more, but I knew they had something to do with much of France being turned into a nuclear wasteland. The world had gone for decades without breaking out into nuclear war, and now it seemed like humans were tossing the hideous weapons around as if this were a game of beanbag toss. The government and my family insisted I was a god capable of stopping the insanity, but compared to what man had made, I was nothing—just a guy who couldn’t cut his finger. I wanted to crawl away to my mountain hideout and forget the sickness civilization had wrought upon itself, but as I came out of my reverie, I found many scared faces staring at me.

Chapter 3

Mike, Karen said quietly. We have to help them.

Rhonda picked little Charlie up out of the shopping cart and cradled him protectively, giving me a horrid vision of them being vaporized by nuclear winds. A compassionate feeling overwhelmed me that was usually reserved for family. All of these people were mine to protect; that was my destiny—my purpose.

Everyone, I said, trying to pull myself out of despair. I looked at a couple dozen people who were more scared than I could ever fathom as an immortal. We have to assume the French are intent on destroying America. We have to go. I have a shelter that can hold a hundred easily, and we'll make room if more show up. Gather everything you can here, load it up in your vehicles, and follow us there. If you don't have enough gas to drive an hour, then get a ride with someone who does.

I have to get my wife! Jerry the butcher blurted. I wanted to tell him he could die trying to save her, but I didn't, knowing that death was better than guilt from abandoning those you love.

For those with family not here, I said. Go get them, but hurry. I cannot stress that enough. Hurry! We are leaving here as soon as we load up. Ten minutes and no more. Our place is past Eldora. Go up 4th of July Road and we're half-a-mile after the campground. Tell others as you go. Once you get there, you may have to walk if you don't have a 4-wheel drive. The name, 4th of July Road, was misleading; it was just dirt trail that meandered through rough mountainous terrain. Now go! Our new four-legged friend, Sadie, barked once as if to reinforce my command.

The two guards that formerly granted entry now held the doors open to expedite exit. About ten people departed to retrieve loved ones, while the rest loaded grocery carts with essential supplies. The inside of the store resembled a contest where people would get everything free that they could load within five minutes, except it was eerily quiet; nobody was smiling and having fun. The former gatekeeper, Cecil, looked on nervously, voicing concern that when the boss found out about his store being raided, he would shoot Cecil on sight. I convinced him that his days as store security were over; it would soon be a pile of glowing rubble, probably with the boss under it.

On my cue, everyone finished their free-for-all and headed for the exit. We wheeled our carts out the doors without paying, as silver and gold had suddenly become trivial.

Do you think they'll drop a nuke here? Lori asked as Karen and I loaded the back of the Jeep.

Perhaps, I said, not wanting to frighten her, but not wanting to lie either. I would think they'd worry about Colorado Springs first though, with NORAD and Cheyenne Mountain there, and then perhaps the missile installations in Wyoming.

Maybe, Karen started as I handed her a Styrofoam box to load. We've shot down the rest of their missiles and launched our own nukes?

We'll find out once we get home, I replied as we finished stacking supplies to the roof. Lori, you and Sadie get situated in the backseat. I need to get everyone moving.

Okay, Dad. Sadie! Come! Come, girl! She climbed into the back and the athletic dog easily jumped into the raised vehicle after her.

Karen slammed the hatch closed, turned to me, and said, You know we're going to have to leave her. We're the only ones capable of fighting this.

Hopefully we just have to help, and not fight. If we counterattacked, France will be too busy to invade.

Hopefully, she agreed.

Either way, Lori will be in good hands. Hop in. I'll— My head began to swim as an intense dizziness overtook me. I stumbled back, vaguely hearing Karen call my name in concern. And then, like a gunshot to the brain, a presence slammed into my consciousness. An image formed of a muscular man with long black hair and eyes that shimmered with intense blue light.

Michael, forgive me for what I have brought upon Earth, he said with a powerful voice that boomed through my mind. Hathor's venom controls me; I cannot resist. She has sent me to disable America's countermeasures, but I wanted to warn you in my moment of freedom. The demon's blood that flows in your veins will offer you some protection from her. Protection that does not bless me, as now she is my master. You must kill her, or kill me, for without me she is nothing.

I do not have the power to do this! I am barely more than human!

You did not come to these mountains by accident. Nothing is accident. Find the cave dwellers. They hold the key. They can help you, but it will be difficult. All is lost if you fail. He vanished and in his place appeared violent and painfully blinding nuclear explosions popping off one after another like fireworks.

I staggered and then fell to the ground, briefly blacking out.

Mike! Oh, Jesus! Wake up! Karen yelled.

Slowly I opened my eyes and saw several worried faces huddled over me with Karen and Lori's being the closest. I'm…I'm all right, I muttered, even though my head was throbbing in agony.

What happened? Lori asked, her voice close to panic.

Some sort of vision…a powerful vision. Karen helped me to my feet.

Looked like a seizure, Cecil said from behind. My brother had them.

No, this was real. It was a man asking me to forgive him. I didn't want to share details with the entire group, worried they would lose faith in my sanity and thereby me. I recognized him.

Who was it? Karen asked.

I saw him on television a couple times. It was the husband of Monique Moreau, the French President.

Definitely had to be a seizure, Cecil chimed in again. With hallucinations thrown in from all the stress. I seriously doubt Raisin Moreau channeled into your brain to apologize for this shit.

"Raison…yes, that's him, I said, pronouncing it how I had heard on the news, Ry-son, instead of the dried-grape name Cecil had used. Maybe you're right, Cecil. Let's just get going."

Still feeling angst over the intrusive vision, I got behind the steering wheel of the Jeep and pulled out of the parking lot. A caravan of pickups, SUVs, and cars followed, and as we drove through town more joined us, having either retrieved their loved ones or heard the news of impending disaster and where to find refuge. We exited the city and made our way up Boulder Canyon Drive where tall cliffs surrounded us protectively on either side. At least I hoped they would offer some protection should the bomb fall before we arrived to Homestead.

So, Raison Moreau came to you in a vision and asked for your forgiveness? Karen asked. That doesn't make sense.

There was more, I replied. I didn't want to frighten the others. He claimed to be here disabling the country's countermeasures, and that Hathor's venom is making him do it. He must be talking about his wife, President Moreau, but I'm not sure, and I don't know why he would come to me.

Uh, Dad, Lori said, leaning forward from the back. There are some things I haven't told you. I didn't think it was important, but…

You sure didn't mind calling my wife a demon. Karen grimaced next to me. What can be worse than that?

I wasn't in France with you so I don't know what happened there, but on your son's island, you and this Monique had a…well, you had a thing. It was after Karen turned into a demon and ran off.

Watch out! Karen cried. For a second I thought she was yelling at Lori, but then I took my eyes off Lori in the rearview mirror and looked ahead. The Jeep had swerved precariously close to a wall of rock. I yanked the steering wheel hard, recovering, thinking that behind me Cecil probably thought I had had another seizure.

Sorry, I said. Did you say I met Monique Moreau on an island owned by my son? Who is this son, and why would I meet the President of France there?

Andre was your adopted son in the 1940s, and Monique was his adoptive mother. Her name was Elizabeth then.

I remember that name, Elizabeth, from the dreams you had in the hospital, Karen said. I also remember the island. It was the last thing I remember actually, but it's vague...like a dream.

And then, as you know, Lori continued with her torture. You took on the name Michael Moreau when you defended France. Michael Moreau, Monique Moreau…get it?

She was my wife? I whispered, feeling Karen's tension next to me.

Um, yeah, from World War II.

And if she was my wife, then that explains a lot of what he said and why he would come to me. As my wife, she would have had the chance to inject me with some sort of controlling venom. Perhaps that's why I lost my powers and this Raison wants to help me get them back, but… He also said demon’s blood is protecting me. Any idea what that means?

Maybe, Lori said. You probably fed on Karen at some point in Europe, and her blood is counteracting the venom. That's the only thing I can come up with since she was the only demon around that I know of.

"If I were a demon, I’d do more than cry right now. How can you not remember being married to her?" Karen asked, sounding more disappointed than mad. As delicate as her heart was, it was impossible for me to believe she was an evil creature of lore.

I don’t know. It doesn't take anything away from what we have, I responded. I'm sure both of us have troubling pasts.

"True, it's just my past isn't trying to destroy the world."

Not that we know of. I turned my head slightly so my daughter could hear, but kept my eyes on the road this time. Monique Moreau seems to have picked up a new husband quick. Do you know anything about this Raison guy, Lori?

I might. I never met him personally, but when they were holding me hostage, I heard talk of someone named Ra. Just before the soldiers rescued me, everyone worried that Ra had risen.

That name sounds familiar. Ra?

Yeah, and it made them very nervous. They said Ra was God.

I remember Troy mentioning him when we were in the hospital, Karen interjected.

Yes, that's where I remember it from, too, I replied. So if Raison and Ra are the same person, then Monique Moreau, aka Hathor, is somehow controlling God. Could things get any worse? I drove on in contemplative silence for a minute trying to figure out how crazy it would sound if I mentioned the part about cave dwellers. Finally, I decided just to put it out there. Raison also told me to find the cave dwellers. He said they hold the key. Anyone understand what that might mean?

Not a clue, Karen said.

Lori? She had hesitated for too long. Got something else to share?

I might. When you first regained your memory back at our house when Mom was still…when she was still alive, you said a lot of your kind were driven underground by the war you all had. You told us they were the basis for many of the myths about vampires: evolving light sensitivity, sleeping during the day, and other stuff like that.

Maybe that is who he meant, I replied, not feeling excited about the idea of stumbling upon a lair of sleeping mutant demons that might blame me for their condition.

We broke into an open valley as we came into the town of Nederland. Decadent log homes clung to hillsides overlooking a pristine lake, on the edge of which sat the old mining-turned-tourist town. Now, it was a ghost town, with no one but the hardiest survival types remaining. Winters were brutal here.

Do you feel that? Karen asked.

I feel it! Lori exclaimed.

Me, too. The hairs all over my body were standing up, while a strong tingling sensation pricked at my skin.

Karen leaned forward and looked up out the window. Stop the Jeep! she cried.

I hit the brakes, forcing the caravan behind to a rough halt. Just as we stopped, the vehicle died. Karen jumped out and stared at the clear blue sky. Curious, I got out and looked up along with the people behind us. In the sky, several white contrails of planes coming from the airport in Denver simply vanished as if the planes had just disappeared midflight. Then I saw that the aircraft hadn't disappeared, but that their engines must have died, for as we watched, they were falling down out of the sky. I could make out the white fuselage of a Frontier Airlines flight arcing gracefully down not too far from the purple and red of a Southwest plane, which fell more vertically. Instinctively, I lunged up, willing myself to fly as I had witnessed myself doing in videos, but nothing happened.

The Southwest plane vanished behind a mountain, while the majestic arc of the Frontier aircraft steepened, its path leading straight for a cliff. No! I cried. Just a few miles away, we watched as hundreds of lives slammed into the merciless rocks. Within seconds, the sound of the explosion hit and I stared as the fireball rose and began gorging on trees. I couldn't help them, I whispered in dismay. All across the country, thousands of people could be raining out of the sky and I could do nothing.

Another one! Lori yelled.

I turned and followed her pointing finger. This plane was different, it looked like a large military transport with propellers, except the props were turning much too slowly. It also angled down, heading for a fiery demise, but then I saw that the rear cargo door was open. From it, dozens of men jumped, their parachutes opening immediately due to the low altitude. It looked like they would land on the opposite side of town.

Come on! I ordered. We have to get to them. They might have information we need! I jumped into the Jeep and cranked the starter. Nothing happened, not even a weak click. I tried again with the same result. Confused, I got out and saw many other disturbed faces behind me.

Nothing starts! one of my followers spoke. Then it donned on me—the tingling, the downed planes, the cars that wouldn't start—France had detonated an EMP in the atmosphere.

Being immortal in a mortal's world had made me an avid science reader as I searched for possible reasons for my existence. I had stumbled upon many fascinating things, including EMPs. An EMP, or electromagnetic pulse, was created when a large enough nuclear weapon was detonated several hundred miles up in the atmosphere. The pulse would reach from horizon to horizon, crippling the electronics of an entire country if done right. Since nearly everything was electronic in the United States, then that meant nearly everything would be crippled. I realized that the purpose of the direct nuke strike in DC must have been to cause disarray so that an EMP could make it over the country without interference.

What do we do? Karen asked.

I think we've been blown back to the dark ages, I said, as others came up and gathered around me. We’ll have to walk.

A thudding explosion rumbled through the valley as the military transport came to ground on the far side of a mountain.

What about the supplies? Rhonda asked, looking down at the sleeping baby in her arms. "Breastfeeding didn't work for me. I need formula."

You will have to wean him off before what little we have runs out, I said, and then addressed the larger group. Everyone grab what you think are critical items. I have water and enough MREs, vitamins, and medicine for a year, so just bring the essentials. I turned to where Jerry stood, having rejoined us after retrieving his wife and teenage son. Can you and your son help Rhonda with the formula and diapers?

Sure thing, Mike, he replied, seeming happy to have a mission.

Everyone turned away and began raiding the vehicles for what they could carry. Quickly we regrouped with most lugging bulging plastic shopping bags, while I had a hefty bag of dog food on my shoulder. Looking like refugees, we began our trek towards where the paratroopers had come down.

The old brick buildings of Nederland were hauntingly quiet. With the collapse of the economy, most small towns in America had been abandoned as food supplies were channeled to larger cities. We walked past dark antique stores, empty ski shops, and abandoned restaurants for fifteen minutes, and already I heard some grumbling behind me. It was still a couple hours uphill to Homestead, and then perhaps years of suffering as we rebuilt. Many more would die during the upcoming hardships.

My ears picked up the sound of shuffling feet. I stopped abruptly and dropped the dog food.

What is it? Karen asked.

Before I could answer, two military soldiers appeared from behind the corner of a red-brick building. Disconcertingly, they had their machine guns up in the ready-to-shoot position.

Stop right there! one ordered.

Whoa, easy now, I said. We're Americans, just on our way home.

Go around, the soldier stated bluntly.

That'll add a couple miles to our trip. Where are you guys from?

I suggest you go now.

Is this not a free country anymore?

Not here.

By whose orders?

By mine, a third soldier said, coming out from behind the building, decked out in heavy combat gear. Stand down, gentlemen. Mike, am I glad to see you! He strode forward, hand outstretched.

Admiral Thomas! I blurted, stunned. But I thought you were on Air Force One? We heard it was shot down. What's going on, Troy?

By the time I called you, we had already lost the war. The call was a ruse, knowing they'd eavesdrop. They went after Air Force One while we snuck the president out on a C-130. Sorry for the hostile welcome, but they're ordered to protect President Banneker at all costs.

The war is lost?

Both DC and New York City are gone, and several EMPs shut the rest of the country down.

Did we fire our nukes? Operation Venom Apocalypse?

We tried, but… He trailed off with a perplexed look on his face.

But what?

The commanders in direct charge of the nuclear missile silos, subs, and air bases refused to launch them.

What?

"Somehow, the French gained control of them. I don't understand