Rainbows End

"Again, point taken," she answered, and then asked, "Who would be among the fifty?"

"I'll let you answer that; think what the world would be like, no electricity, very little fresh water, severe food shortages, and no medicine, just to mention a few. Now, who would you suggest," he questioned.

She thought for a while, and then answered, "Trained medical personnel, people with agricultural and biology backgrounds, mechanical skills, experienced craftsmen, animal husbandry and possible military for security."

"Very good," Palmer praised, and then added, "Let's not forget those with strong backs and weak minds willing to work and learn."

He walked between the pavilions and opened the steel door, stepping inside; he flipped a switch illuminating a long wide tunnel. He told her to watch her step on the uneven floor, and hesitantly she stepped inside followed by Spike.

Securing the door behind them, he led her into a dark domed chamber. She could sense its vast dimensions as the darkness played with one of humanities first instincts, fear of the unknown. Palmers' voice, echoing off the walls, testified to its immense size, sending a chill down her back.

Another switch was thrown, and soft light flooded the chamber. Gravel covered most of the chamber floor, punctuated by concrete slabs, and all interconnected by sturdy sidewalks in a star burst pattern.

Stopping at the center core, Palmer explained the layout, saying, "Ms. Pres... Err... Stella, consider this chamber like a clock; six pads, six numbers," pointing at each location while speaking, "The door is 12 o'clock, Pad 2, pad 4, 6. You get the picture.

I was too young when the gravel was hauled inside, but I watched him pour the pads. From then on, I helped an amazing man build a shelter; not for himself, but for dozens of people. Getting prepared for...," he paused, and then asked, "Can you cook?"

"You offering a job," she asked smiling.

Palmer chuckled, while thinking, "I already like her, but this woman could be trouble," but only said, "Pad 6," and walked toward the back of the cave.

A restaurant style, stainless-steel kitchen dominated pad 6; complete with sinks, running water, multiple open top ranges, double ovens, dishwashers, refrigerators, and in the back wall, what appeared to be, a freezer door.

Stella froze, feeling she had been duped, asked, "This is all electric! I thought you were preparing for the power to go out?"

Palmer said smiling, "You know? For a city gal, you're pretty smart! When I suggested the idea, grandma asked me that very same question."

Taking the bait, she smiled and asked, "OK, I'll bite. What did you say?"

Handing her a pack of hotdogs, he answered by reenacting the event; slouching with head down, as children will do, realizing they hadn't thought it through, he mumbled, "Oh yeah, I should have thought of that!"

Stella tossed her head back and openly laughed, enjoying his sense of humor, and thinking, "He's not what I imagined; doesn't fit the stereo type I expected. What did I expect? A small hole in the ground, covered with a piece of plywood? Look around you; he is the real deal, and not some maniacal maniac from Podunkville, found in the great state of WeEatPeople. Listen to him talk, she told her imaginary self. He makes all this ... craziness, sound perfectly sane."

"So, where's the power coming from," she asked opening the pack of hot dogs.

"Right now, the grid is still up, so we're running off it and charging batteries. Most everything you see, including the lights, run on batteries, just like camper equipment; in fact, most things here were made from scrap camper and RV parts found in the salvage yard we passed through getting here; the stainless-steel enclosures had to be fabricated."

Handing her a saucepan and pointing to the sink, he continued, "But when the grid goes down, we switch to solar. When that happens, we still run off the batteries, but now the sun charges them. Portable generators fill-in the temporary outages, until repairs can be made," he answered, grinning like the mouse who ate the cheese.

"Where did you learn all this," Stella asked, covering the hotdogs with water.

"Most of it from grandpa, the more recent stuff from books and the Internet, I'm really going to miss that," he added.

Placing the pot on the stove, and turning on the burner, she asked, "Who takes over if something happens to you?"

With a frown on his face and scratching his head, he pretended to consider his choices, shuffling his feet and in a stereotyped Uncle Tom voice, said, "I don'ts know 'bout tomorrow, Ms. Stella, ma'am. But today, I guess that be you! Den som'body elsz gonna have to asz, pappa or plaztic?"

"And I was beginning to think you were sane," she roared through her laughter, and thinking, "Boiling hot dogs, in a cave, with a stranger, for a week, and laughing my ass off? Why does this feel... normal?"

Palmer handed her a knife, onion, small bowl and pointed to a cutting board. He watched her; she was no stranger to a kitchen; she wasted no moves. A quick, two-handed plunge cut the onion in half, and then dicing a small portion.

She stopped, and with a suspicious look, asked, "You going to talk, or help?"

Opening a refrigerator door, he removed a jar of relish and while handing it to her, said playfully, "Ah, young Jedi, learning we are? Most important lesson have we here; time to talk, time to listen; always time to help."

They ate their meal at a crafted picnic table near the pad perimeter. The beautiful, high polished tabletop reflected the soft light, and nearby; she thought she heard a faint electrical buzz and asked about it.

Holding up a finger, indicating she had to wait, he swallowed hard and said, "Those are the power inverters. They convert the AC, coming from the grid, into DC and charging the batteries. Solar panels generate DC power directly, no conversion needed, just voltage regulation and no buzzing."

"I hope there's pen and paper; I need to keep a journal, a detailed description of this experience. The necessary planning and forethought required above-average intelligence," extending her arms toward the chamber for emphasis, she added, "to accomplish all this?"

Palmer dropped his eyes to the floor, pretending embarrassment and imitating John Wayne, said, "Ah shucks ma'am, twernt no point in doin' things half-assed."

She shook her head slowly from side to side wondering, "Where the hell did this obviously intelligent, yet, unpretentious man come from?"

Standing, Palmer picked up the dishes, and said, "I'll wash, you dry, not enough for the dishwasher, which only happens when there's more people, and then afterward, we'll get you something that writes and some paper. Failing that, it's stone, chisel and hammer!"

The last dish put away, he said, "You look to be about grandmas' size; I think she was a 7. The clothes may not be in style, but they have to be more comfortable than a skirted business suit and heels."

"Are you serious? Absolutely," Stella exclaimed!

"Sleeping quarters, Pad 2, Cubicle 1; inside you'll find two footlockers, one has some of her clothes, and under the bunk, which is now yours, are shoes. I'll meet you at the hub, which is Pad Zero.

"Sleeping quarters, Pad 2, Cubicle 1," she repeated walking away.

"This may not be too bad! She easily catches on and quick to do her part," he thought to himself, "And the more I think about it; she'd be perfect for the compound; a natural at meticulous attention to detail, an organizer. Better check the battery system while I'm here."

Pad 6 was next to a natural chimney formed ages ago, and the logical choice for anything needing ventilation, hot ovens, cook tops, smoke from grease, and any possible battery fumes. With the grid supplying power, battery chargers generate heat, thus justifying this location for their placement.

Quickly finishing his task, he waited at Pad Zero, scanning through a "How-To" magazine.

He could feel her approaching before she arrived, and wondered, "Was it heightened primal instincts from being in a cave? Or..., was it her? Come on man, a city girl for Christ's sake? Besides, more than likely, she thinks I'm a hick and there's no way she'd look twice at me."

She stopped a short distance from him, saying, "These clothes fit perfectly!"

He turned to look, and images of "Rosie the Riveter" flashed across his mind. Hair tied up with a silk scarf, checkerboard shirt under bib overalls with narrow belted waist, and low top work boots; the perfect 40s pinup.

With hands on swaying hips, she took a few runway model steps, ending in a quick turn and brilliant smile.

Palmer laughed, and said, "Sure as hell didn't look like that on grandma! You look much more comfortable. How about, we sit outside for a while; schools out, teacher skipped town."

"Got any wine," she asked smiling.

Yep, he liked her.

~ ~ ~ Aboard the Armoosk ~ ~ ~

In the mid-Atlantic, evening prayers completed and looking east toward Mecca, Mahmoud Al Abradda reaffirmed his deadly devotion by whispering, "By the grace of Allah. The apostate infidels will pay for opposing the righteous laws of Islam and its prophets, Allah Akbar."

Chapter 5

~ ~ ~ Gallatin, Missouri ~ ~

Atop the container wall and with the compounds isolated location, Palmer and Stella were provided an unobstructed view of a moonless night alive with stars and the background sounds of forest insects.

Relaxed conversation flowed, breaking the ice, only to be interrupted by short pauses for notes under dim lantern light. On occasion, peals of laughter exploded over the courtyard, echoing for long seconds.

He struggled not to stare but was always drawn back to her dancing aqua eyes. He could see an inquisitive mind asking intelligent questions, easily grasping the information and condensing it to hand-written notes in one fluid motion.

He watched her soft facial expressions as a frantic mixture of scribbled symbols and letters filled the pages. Leaning forward to write and wisps of hair falling around her face, slender hands pushed bothersome strands behind an ear. A certain feminine grace accompanied every move, appealing and laced with unspoken innuendo. He could tell she was accustomed to getting what she wanted.

Stella sipped her wine, and said, "This is good! You don't find this in stores, is this homemade?"

Palmer grinned and answered, "You know; my grandma asked me that very same question."

Enjoying the banter, she played along and said, "I'm such a sucker for this shit, I may need my head examined," throwing her hands in the air in defeat, she asked, "And what did you say?"

"Yep, it's homemade," was his short reply.

She clutched her chest in mock surprise, and said, "Oh thank God! I thought it was another long, dull, boring story. Just dock the boat Captain; time to work on the approach later!"

Palmer laughed deeply, please by her quick wit, flirting all around the edge of sexy and a mind capable of competing with any man, a deadly concoction to the male half of the species.

Stella, breaking an awkward silence, asks, "So, Thomas McIntyre buys a chunk of ground to start a salvage business, builds a home, and discovers a cave?"

"The documents say it's an ore mine abandoned a hundred years ago. The courtyard was an equipment marshaling yard when the mine was active; looked different without the cargo containers, but grandpa saw it as a shelter," he said with fondness in his voice.

"Palmer," she says in a whisper.

He smiles in the darkness; she thinks she's intruding, and he thinks it's sweet; he answers, "Yes?"

"Can I ask some personal questions?"

"Sure, go ahead," he replied.

"How'd you stay so..., sane?"

"Life in the woods is different, not like weird, but different from town. Town seemed strange to me; my everyday normal was here; home schooled until I reached high school. To the kids in town, I was an outsider imposing on their turf, and they were right. I was the loner dork making straight A's, and TAKING PIMPLE FACED MONICA TO THE PROM," he shouted into the air.

Stella rocked in her chair laughing at his mixed expressions and lively antics; he made her feel welcome with his offbeat humor.

"You said Thomas died four years ago, where's your grandmother," Stella asked?

"Her name was Claire and she died shortly after, I think she just lost the will to live without Gramps," he answered.

"At the café, you said they raised you from a child, why?

"My parents, Allen and Susan, died in a boating accident; I was only three and don't remember them, although, I feel like I know them from the stories I was told growing up," Palmer replied.

Stella pushed a little further, and asked, "Ever married?"

"No, never met the right pimple faced girl," he said chuckling.

"Any siblings," she questioned.

"Almost, mom was pregnant at the time of the accident," Palmer sighed, and then asked, "How about you?"

"A younger brother, killed in Afghanistan," she answered sadly.

"Where's your family," Palmer asked?

"Dad passed away years ago; mom is in a nursing home with severe dementia. The last few times I visited, she didn't know me."

Palmer said sympathetically, "I'm sorry, that must really hurt."

Stella, choking back the tears, only nodded.

"Ever been married," Palmer asked, changing the subject.

Stella smirked, and answered, "For about two minutes; asshole was screwing my best friend during the reception!"

"What a dick," Palmer exclaimed!

"What a bitch," she returned, and then continued, "He got what he deserved," she replied.

"And that was?"

"The slut gave him something he couldn't wipe off," she laughed.

"Ah, sweet revenge, a dish best served cold," Palmer said philosophically.

Nodding her head in agreement, she said, "But I do believe his nether region may be burning, until it falls off!"

Palmer cringed through his laughter.

~~~~~

When Stella woke she found Palmer weeding the gardens, "Good morning Palmer. You're up early."

Palmer smiled, and said, "Early was two hours ago; I never did sleep much, guess old habits are hard to break. How'd you sleep?"

"Like a rock! That wine of yours kicked my ass; I think I was out before my head touched the pillow," she answered.

"Light weight," he teased.

Stella chuckled, and then asked, "What can I do?"

"I'm almost done here," he said, and then added, "Why don't you start breakfast; sausage and eggs in the fridge, frozen hash browns in the freezer; I'll be in shortly."

"Coming up," she quipped, and then asked, "Hot tea or coffee?"

"Hot tea sounds good; you'll find the tea in the cupboards."

~~~~~

"How do you like your eggs," she asked as he joined her.

Placing the teabags in two cups, Palmer covered them with hot water, and said, "Today, scrambled; tomorrow, ask me again."

"Scrambled it is," Stella said.

During breakfast, Palmer asked, "How'd you come to be a journalist?"

Stella smiled, and asked, "You want the long or short story?"

"Not much on my calendar for the day, how about the long story?"

Between bites, she began her tale, "After the embarrassing wedding fiasco, I flew the coop; living off my savings, I traveled for a while. Caribbean, Mexico, South America, paying homage to the gods of white sand beaches and freedom. Returning to the states, I tried my hand at teaching grade school and found out, I like kids when there's somebody else's problem!"

He said, "Not everybody's cut out for the job, go on."

"Let's see, worked as a bank teller for a while; standing at a customer window, felt like I should be asking if they'd like fries with that. Thought about opening a bookstore but thinking about it was as far as I got. Did some freelance writing, and then the Morning Star offering a permanent position sounded much better than the "Bikini Clad Carwash Babe" some creep offered."

Palmer roared with laughter, and said, "But think of the tips you're missing!"

Stella threw her toast at him, and said smiling mischievously, "If I ever work for tips, you can bet your sweet ass, it won't be at a car wash!"

The following days were filled with questions, answers and routine chores; cooking, washing dishes, tending the garden, washing clothes and hanging them on the line to dry, feeding and playing with Spike; they did everything together, quickly becoming friends.

Chapter 6

With two glasses and a jug of iced tea, they climbed the wall stairs to enjoy the warm July night air.

Filling their glasses, and handing one to Palmer, Stella said, "I'm beginning to understand why your grandfather picked this place. Not only for the obvious protection of the cave, but the calm and peaceful feeling of refuge, away from the daily bustle and inescapable noise of the city."

He watched her as long hair, tumbling around her shoulders glistened while moonlight danced about its gentle waves; spiraling curls fluttering momentarily in the warm breeze and luminous aqua eyes piercing the darkness.

Billowy clouds drifted silently through the sky, throwing scattered shadows across the moonlit courtyard, and the serene surroundings wrapping them in comfortable silence.

~ ~ ~ Aboard the Armoosk ~ ~ ~

At 9:17 pm, 75 miles off the US coastline, a solitary missile streaked into the air, its deadly payload embracing devastating consequences. Far below, explosive charges tore through the Armoosk, breaking its back and dragging its now dead fanatical occupants into the murky depths.

~ ~ ~ Gallatin, Missouri ~ ~

Turning to face him, Stella said, "Palmer, this has been an amazing week. You've been a most gracious, charming and, if I might add, humorous host. The thought of going back to the city saddens me; I'm going to miss you and our nightly conversa..."

A bright flash temporarily illuminated the night sky, and on instinct, they shielded their eyes. After a few moments, when things had dimmed, they saw a shrinking ball of light high in the sky, surrounded by trails of colored ribbons ionizing the atmosphere.

Looking at the sky, Stella said dreamily, "Reminds me of a rainbow; that's what I'll title this piece, Rainbows End."

The outside security lights went dark when a pole transformer hissed and threw sparks as the power grid went down.

"Did the flash do this," she asked?

"More than likely, too much of a coincidence to ignore," he answered, heading toward the stairs, he added, "Come with me!"

Stella, hot on his heels, asks, "Where are we going?"

"Inside," he answered with worry.

~~~~~

Safe inside the cave, sitting across the kitchen table, Stella asked, "That wasn't fireworks, you know what that was, so tell me."

"A high-altitude nuclear burst, the EMP not meant to destroy, only cripple. I hope I'm wrong! There's more," his voice weak and resolve shaken.

"What do you mean more," she questioned worriedly.

"A possible nuclear exchange, that's why we came inside," he answered, and then continued, "Moments after launch, US forces identified where that missile came from, and a tanker off the coast makes sense, leaving only a few seconds to react. Unable to knock it down, silos hardened to withstand EMPs are now locking in target coordinates for a retaliatory strike. Russia, China, North Korea and the Mideast; one or all of them, time will tell."

Oppressive fear gnawed at her composure as she searched Palmers face for signs of comfort, none was given. Cold harsh reality was rearing its ugly head, dooming the unprepared and changing the world in an instant.

"What do we do," she asked.

"We've already done it; we're in here," he said.