Covert Catastrophe

Anthony Patch

Covert Catastrophe

Copyright

Covert Catastrophe

Copyright © 2013 - 2016 by Anthony Patch

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: 2013

This is a book of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Dedicated

To Our Lord and our families.

Published by Book Ministry 2016

Book Ministry

PO Box 890632

Oklahoma City, OK 73189

www.bookministry.org

Acknowledgements

I would like to take this opportunity to acknowledge and thank those whom, without their friendship, knowledge and depth of expertise, completion and publication of this book would not have been feasible.

Imitation is not the highest form of flattery.  Collaboration is.

I encourage the reader to contact each of them for their expertise, and their service for our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ to whom each of us gives glory.

* Artwork by

Author: Luis B. Vega

ESCHATOLOGY STUDIES

postscripts.org

* End Times Matrix News

Endtimesmatrixnews.com

Founder: Tim Clark

Co-Host: Kris Deleon

* S. Douglas Woodward

Author

Doug@faith-happens

faith-happens.com

* John Mark

Book Publishing

bookministry@gmail.com

www.bookministry.org

This book is dedicated to our Lord and our families.

Chapter One

Incoming

Ladies and Gentlemen! We have a problem. Chair, Dr. Justine MacIntosh from Stanford announces to the less-than-capacity, conference room audience.

Dr. Judy Hilligass of UC Berkeley having just concluded the presentation of her introductory abstract, did not appreciate the interruption.

I am sorry Dr. Hilligass... but Markarian 421 has just flared. Dr. MacIntosh leaning into the podium microphone.

What's your problem!? It's a 'blazer'! It did this back in '96! Dr. Judy Hilligass now clearly irritated by what she considered to be rude behavior on the part of her collegue, Dr. Justine MacIntosh.

Stemming from their years in graduate school, she'd come to expect this from her.

Our problem Judy. Justine placing her hand over the microphone. It's Earth-directed. Judy suddenly stepping back, mouth open but silent.

Ladies and Gentlemen, if I may have your attention. The room going silent after a brief rustling upon her interruption of Dr. Hilligass. Markarian 421 has just flared, and its Earth-directed.

The room erupts in excited voices. Cell phones are activated, people getting to their feet, as the rear doors are pushed open. Scientists break out from adjoining rooms, streaming in, the room quickly exceeding capacity.

I will repeat for those just joining us. I am Dr. Justine MacIntosh of the Stanford Fermi satellite telescope program. Markarian 421, a 'blazar' has just flared.

At the risk of sounding colloquial, this supermassive black hole is currently flooding space with the brightest display of gamma-rays ever detected. As confirmed by Fermi, and for the first time in recorded history... its Earth-directed. The Astrophysicist allowing the audience noisily to absorb these latest findings.

If I may? Dr. Hilligass moving in close, sharing the microphone with her.

Fortunately, and as I was about to cover... Giving a look that could kill toward Dr. MacIntosh. We have designed a campaign to study this source. This 'blazer' has cooperated in a miraculous way. We never know when exactly its going to get very bright and this time it was kind enough to do just that when we had a very large number of telescopes trained on it.

Dr. MacIntosh? A science magazine reporter interjecting as the room settles down. You stated its Earth-directed. What can we expect?

The data is preliminary, and as my colleague has indicated, several orbital and terrestrial telescopes, both optical and radio were monitoring Markarian 421 across a number of 'colors' of light, from radio to gamma-ray.

What is of utmost concern to us here on Earth, and please appreciate the sheer number of data streams has us now drinking from a waterfall. Is what the impact may be upon our magnetosphere. Justine MacIntosh allowing for questions.

Will it penetrate? Another science reporter asks.

Yes. She states flatly.

Will it strip it away? He presses.

Unknown. Justine beginning to feel the enormity of her own words.

Again... this is only preliminary... we need time to study the data. Allow us time. Judy sensing the two of them under attack, joining forces with her Stanford rival.

But if Justine says it will penetrate, then we all need to prepare.

Chapter Two

Farm

Warm Fourth of July evening. George pouring water down the front and back of his bright orange military jumpsuit.

And humid... I hate it. Richard tucking a wet towel around the neck of his jumpsuit.

We'd better get inside after we finish with this. George handing the thirty three year old another wrench from the tool box, noting the readouts from an instrument contained within a plastic case.

This third dish ought to be enough.

Have to be. Not much time left. Richard attacking a series of large stainless steel nuts, securing the final alignment of the satellite dish antennae.

I'll pack up the gear. Go ahead and finish inside with Mary. Need to take one more set of spraying samples.

Thanks. Won't be long. George with some difficulty, straightening his ninety-something frame. Can I get you anything from the house?

Good to go! Richard waving a hand back toward him.

Chapter Three

Colors

Warm night. Jim pouring water down the front and back of his dark blue Paramedic jumpsuit.

And humid... I hate it. Paul tucking a towel around his neck, containing ice cubes from the Aid Station.

That chemtrail spraying's making it worse. We'd better get to it. Jim slinging his Paramedic backpack over one shoulder, Paul preferring to carry his.

Standing atop the highest point alongside one of the exhibition halls, Jim stopped Paul for a moment, surveying the area below.

Paul… Jim looking out over the tops of several hundred people filing in and around the many rides and arcade booths in the claustrophobic Carnival area of the Alameda County Fairgrounds.

I see ‘em… colors. Paul, with a twinge of pain in his deep voice. Normally an extremely easy going guy, he sensed his own tension elevating, meeting the scene they were surveying.

Richtown. Jim nodding at one gang member.

Yep, Oaktown and Richtown gettin’ down tonight. Paul not smiling.

Both had been working long, hot and dirty shifts these past two weeks in Oakland. A small city, across the Bay from San Francisco, adjoining Berkeley and the University of California.

Consisting of some four hundred thousand people, of all races and creeds, over ten thousand were known to O.P.D. as members of several gangs. Richmond, just up the shoreline from Berkeley, had a habit of letting members of its rival gangs, out to play.

Tonight, both cities had chosen the sleepy, upscale suburban East Bay community of Pleasanton to do battle.

Chapter Four

Weather

What's the latest from Alaska? George activating a monitor from amongst the row of workstations.

Go ahead and bring everything online.

Got it. Richard selecting, then displaying temperatures worldwide on one of three oversized monitors covering the curved, steel wall.

The rest of the team will be here shortly.

Excellent. We've a lot to cover. George studying data streams from remote, geosynchronous satellites ringing Earth.

Alaska at 91 degrees Fahrenheit. Richard moving, then double-clicking his cursor over Russia. Nearly 90 next door.

HAARP (High Frequency Active Auroral Research Program) Induction Magnetometer is showing the temporal variations in the planet's magnetosphere maintaining an earthquake signature frequency of 2.5 hertz in the ULF (Ultra Low Frequency). George rattling off.

Been that way for almost twenty four hours. Is their phased array antenna system still aimed at Japan? Richard moving alongside George at his chair.

Same as back on March 11, 2011 I'm afraid. Three array this time. Then, as now, it was the SBX (Sea-based X-band Radar) platform stationed offshore in the Pacific, along with the USS Ronald Reagan carrier task force.

This time, they've brought the Gakona, Alaska unit online with the SBX. George bringing up data for each location. And Russia makes three. That accounts for the localized heating of the ionosphere.

Appears Japan is going down for good. Richard's voice sullen. I've got buds there now.

If I could, I'd warn them. George swiveling in his chair, meeting him face to face.

Nope. Can't text Seals. Lt. Casey entering the room with the remainder of their team. Richard turning at the sound of his second in command.

Don and gentlemen. Got a big quake in the making.

Sorry sir, we've been on the road, minimal contact as per your orders. Lt. Casey shaking his Captain's hand.

Crap load of spraying too.

Especially over Japan. Here, take a look. Captain Richard Anderson stepping aside, allowing Lt. Casey and the others each a place at their workstations.

Soldier! Where'd you get those!

Sir, Mrs. Keppel insisted. Sorry sir, are they okay in here? Lt. Casey not sure of his Captain at the moment.

At ease Lieutenant. Just pulling your chain. Make sure there's enough to go around. Richard grabbing two of Mary's fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies from the aluminum foil.

We've got bigger issues. George will brief you guys. Heads up.

First off. Thank you for coming on such short notice, and in your civiies. Some of you I've met, for the others, please call me George. You've met my wife, Mary.

Great cook sir. Lt. Casey interrupting. If she keeps us well fed, it'll be worth spending our leaves here.

She is and once briefed, you'll know it’s more than worth it. George directing their attention to the center of the three large overhanging monitors.

Japan is about to slide down this two hundred and fifty fathom underwater cliff, to the bottom of the Pacific. And with it, releasing every bit of radioactive fuel and waste from their nuke plants. I need not tell you the consequences of that happening.

When? Lt. Casey quickly changing his demeanor.

Estimate, another forty eight hours. Magnetometer registering 2.5 Hz in the ULF for nearly twenty four. Pre-shocks in the three-to-five range same period. Richard bringing up a real-time world-wide earthquake map.

You mentioned the spraying.

Yes sir. Estimate a doubling of the chemical spraying, twenty-five percent local solar occlusion of the atmosphere.

Lt. Casey inserting a flash drive into their mainframe system. We took these photos in-transit here.

Quickly reviewing several. Good... these back up our weather monitoring. Richard selecting satellite images at a workstation.

Japan is registering at nearly fifty percent occlusion. Switching to infrared imaging, he re-scans them.

Confirmed.

The Luxemburg-Gorky effect upon the Ionosphere over their islands already reading one hundred degrees Fahrenheit.

George adding. Ionospheric upper limits have been raised over two hundred miles, into the Thermosphere.

Sir? A member of the eleven-man Seal Team interrupts.

"Yes Sam. George stopping.

I understand the chemical spraying in the Troposphere, to thirty thousand feet using commercial and military aircraft, but what does that have to do with earthquakes? Sam moving in closer to view George's monitor.

Surface heating of the planet. George being patient with the young Seal.

This along with the heating of the planet's core due to increases in solar plasma energies and gamma-rays, it's expanding.

Expanding? Sorry, I'd not heard of that. Sam moving back a step from the workstation.

Yes. George continuing. The core is expanding due to the absorption of extra energies. This is causing the planet's crust to expand, like a balloon inflating.

The tectonic plates are pulling apart, releasing energy in the form of earthquakes. Also, I might add, this is why we've noted a marked increase in the quantities of methane gas being released around the globe. As well as the so-called sinkholes.

Sounds like an Extinction Level Event. Sam taking a seat at a workstation to George's left. The whole world is in a shit storm!

No one knows for sure. Personally, I'm praying not. I do want to show you something that may also qualify as an ELE. George bringing up astronomical images on the large center monitor.

This gentlemen... is Markarian 421.

Chapter Five

Calm Before

Any deputies down there? Jim curious to see if Paul had noted it as well.

"Weird...only two so far, but outside the fence line. Paul’s voice a bit raspy with concern.

Their medic radio frequencies ordinarily were monitored by the S.O., Sheriff's Office. Taking a degree of comfort from this, they struck out down the short slope, and into the coagulating crowd.

If it goes to shit in here, get to a gate. Jim knowing he need not have even mentioned it to Paul. It was a norm in their Tactical Medic routines.

Yep. It was all Paul had to say, busy keeping track of the gang movements.

Indeed it was a stark reality check for them both. It was one thing to be inside Oakland, going about their duties amongst the gangs. Quite another, when mixed in with the mostly affluent crowds of young people.

They were enjoying the attractions in Pleasanton, adjacent to the Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory directly over the East Bay Hills from Oakland.

Chapter Six

Incoming

Markarian 421 is the largest ever recorded gamma ray burst. And, it is Earth-directed. Already, we are beginning to feel the leading edge of its effects. The worst of it will impact the planet in ten days time. George quickly scanning through the many images taken by the Hubble space telescope and several terrestrial monitoring stations around the globe.

George and I have reached the conclusion, that a mission must be launched. Richard handing each of his team members mil-spec laptops.

Take these back to your racks, and review each of the files. By morning, we all need to be up to speed.

Sir. Lt. Casey taking a laptop. What about Japan?

Nothing we can do. Focus on our mission. It's all in here. Nothing we haven't done before.

Saluting, the team leaves Richard and George at their workstations.

We can take readings and note their implementation. George encouraging the young Captain.

Are you expecting more of the same? Richard turning to him.

Sometime in the morning. George accessing several live web cams from around the islands of Japan.

Please display the Pacific Rim buoys. George referring to the ocean weather buoys, used also in the detecting of tsunami waves.

Richard punching at the keyboard: When it hits, the western coastlines are toast.

Chapter Seven

It Begins

Jim and Paul had been walking for about an hour, attending to a few minor injuries, including a sprained ankle in the barrel roll ride.

Jim, its goin’ down. Paul only nodding his head in the direction. Pointing was a dead giveaway, and not done on the streets.

Wearing their dark blue uniforms, they did tend to blend in, excepting for their heights. It affording them the opportunity to see over the heads of the majority of the crowds.

Yeah…fight…coming our way. Jim stopping, the better to assess what was happening.

Shooter! Paul, not out of fear, but due to his training and experience, already was on the move toward an exit gate he knew was 10 yards to his right from their present location.

Standing in the open, Jim began broadcasting to the S.O., or so he thought.

Shots fired! Code 33! Carnival area…Black male, 'shotgun' arcade, heading west, directly my location at Ferris wheel…’twenty years, five-ten, cornrow hair…still shooting…multiple victims……red shirt, blue jeans, white running shoes…shooter in my face…nickel 9mm handgun…

Medic Sanderson? Is this for real? Their Field Supervisor, radioing from the Fairgrounds aide station this Friday, 4th of July evening, thinking Jim had mistaken firecrackers or M-80’s for gunshots.

Jim couldn't believe what he was hearing!

During the entire broadcast, Jim's voice never rose above a normal level. It was deadpan and cold.

Tactical.

Then it shifted.

Fairgrounds Command…Code 3 backup now! Roll fire in here…Nine criticals… eight children, one adult…declaring a ‘Red Alert' and get me some choppers!

Their medical radio channel was supposed to be monitored by the Alameda County Sheriff’s Department from their post at the Fairgrounds.

Therefore, the entire time Jim was making his unbroken broadcast, he was expecting the Deputies manning the post to be following the shooter’s direction of flight and the description Jim was providing.

Paul! Jim was now able to make his way back from where he had lost sight of the shooter, to Paul.

The gate having provided Paul protection from the initial stampede of fairgoers, should something have happened in the meantime to Jim.

A typical tactical maneuver both had experience with.

I’ll triage! Was all Jim had to say, Paul knowing full well what his role now was, that of treatment.

Critical interventions and the ‘ABC’s’ of emergency medical treatment…airway, breathing, control of bleeding. Anyone with first aid training could do the same.

For the medics this night, they would be expected to perform much more than simple first aid treatment.

It was a warm Friday evening and the sun was just setting as Jim and Paul had arrived at the Alameda County Fairgrounds.

Their employer, American Medical Response, Inc. had the county contract for the fairgrounds. Tonight was supposed to be a break from Oakland.

Moving along a lineup of children, ranging in age from eight to fifteen, Jim easily could see the small entrance wounds. Some in femurs, several in abdomens.

He knew the exit wounds would be much larger. And yet, even they were not the real concern for Jim.

Rather, it was the internal damage done by the large caliber projectile, as it tumbled its way through arteries, veins, bones and major organs.

Command…again…nine criticals… was all Jim got a chance to say when several M-80’s tossed over the chain link fence by rival gang members, exploded just feet from him.

Jim joined Paul, both kneeling on the ground, never missing a beat, continued assessing and treating their patients, when Jim noticed a voice interrupting that of his own.

Got your backs guys! One of two young Deputies informed them.

Thanks. Was all Jim had time to say over his shoulder. He and Paul found themselves moving along the line of kids, while two Deputies, their handguns drawn and at the ready, provided them cover.

Neither of them gave much thought to another shooter or, themselves being shot. They were too focused on their tasks at hand.

Jim kneeling at the side of the first victim, which had been the closest one to him and the last one shot, suffered a ‘GSW’ or, gunshot wound to the left upper thigh, the bullet having passed right through, shattering in the process the eight year-olds femur bone.

A young woman, Jim later learning to be his Aunt, stoically held her nephew’s head and shoulders up off the asphalt. While others were screaming and crying, this woman stood out for Jim, her ability to remain calm in the panic all around her.

Applying direct pressure with his bare hand, Jim leaned in close to her face: Ma'am, thank you for helping…please lay him flat. My partner will take over.

Silently, she complied, remaining seated on the ground, holding the boy’s head. Several EMT’s from AMR were first to arrive at Jim and Paul’s location.

Good! You two guys (two young women were amongst the group of 6 EMT’s) with Paul. You four…with me…eight more GSW’s here.

Moving quickly and efficiently, Jim delivering one EMT to each victim found alongside their panicked friends and family members.

At the end of the line, he found their only adult victim, a middle-aged woman having suffered a gunshot wound to her right lower kidney area as she attempted to flee the area.

Jim later found out she moved too slowly out of the shooter’s way as he exited the North gate from the fenced Carnival area.

Jim! Where do you want us? Came the voice of the first of AMR’s Paramedics to arrive from their assigned areas throughout the expansive Fairgrounds.

One each, we’ve nine total. Jim pointing back along the line of victims, their individual EMT’s barely visible in the crowds.

Just at that moment, more M-80’s exploded in the center of the Carnival area. Despite the numerous Deputies now deploying to cover them, the gangs were still at it.

The crowds screamed and ran, except for those with the wounded. All that remained were uniforms. Deputies, EMT’s and Paramedics. Otherwise, the place suddenly had gone empty.

Jim moved back along the line of victims, performing his second round of triage, formulating in his mind an extrication plan.

Look Paul. Jim arriving back at the start of the line with Paul.

We’ve got three ‘first out’s’.

Okay. This tough guy here needs an I.V., but is doing great. Paul smiling for the Aunt.

Good! Jim likewise reassuring her with a smile. Split here. Jim pointing half way along the line of victims.

Got it. Paul knowing he was now responsible for half the victims and Jim the others.

Moving between the victims, Jim checked on the progress of each Paramedic and partnered EMT.

Jim! Over here! A newly licensed Paramedic waving him over to his fifteen year old female victim.

Check her lung sounds for me will ya?

Sure. Jim retrieving his stethoscope from its leg pocket of his jumpsuit.

Raising the young girl’s shirt, exposing her right side ribcage. Unconscious, and struggling to breathe Jim notices the deviation of her trachea to the right.

Cut off her shirt! Jim irritated the new medic had not already done so. Reaching for the medic’s own airway bag, connected to a larger red trauma bag, Jim assembles his equipment.

Retrieving a laryngoscope handle and blade, he checks its lighted tip. Pulling the plastic covering from a number 6.8 endotracheal (ET) tube, Jim inserts a wire stylet, and attaching a 10ml syringe to the cuff’s inflation port, gently inflating then deflating it.

Sucking chest wound. Jim now able to see her entire thoracic chest area, prepares to intubate the teen.

Flutter valve her.

The EMT, seemingly more experienced than the new medic, already having inserted a number 3 Berman oropharyngeal airway begins hyperventilating the patient with an Ambu bag valve mask, supplemented with 100% oxygen.

While continuing to ventilate her, the EMT slides off to one side, allowing Jim to kneel down at her head.

After I tube her, get me a 14 gauge and syringe. Jim orders the younger medic. Jim holds the laryngoscope handle and blade in his left hand, inserting it and sweeping her tongue off to the left.

As her two white vocal cords come into view of the lighted blade, with his right hand holding the ‘ET’ tube, he inserts it alongside the blade itself.

Visualizing the cords, he watches as the tip of the plastic tube passes between the cords, thus entering the trachea itself.

Gently, he pushes the plunger of the 10ml syringe, inflating the cuff at the end of the tube, preventing it from becoming dislodged from the trachea.

"Okay…bag