JAKE FELENSTEIN - JOURNAL ENTRY NOVEMBER 19, 1974

November 19, 1974

I've decided to keep a journal.  My intent is to attempt to reconcile my belief system with the changing world around me.   I grew up on a hog and soybean farm in Iowa and received my undergraduate degree in biology and chemistry from Kent State.  I am, by nature, scientific in thought.  The Kent State Massacre permanently forced me to reconcile my wants for a life of science with the needs of my country.  I realized during the Kent State Riots, I was a Junior, that only reasonable action from within can create effective change without. This year I received my Masters from the Woodrow Wilson School of Public & International Affairs from Princeton.  It was not an easy decision for me to decide on public service.   There is only one thing I am sure of, I love my country.  To this end I am willing to commit my life to ensure it's survival.

It is really important to me that I capture, once and for all, the events that have changed me forever.   I am not alone, although, perhaps my response has been different than those around me.  Rather than throw the baby out with the bath water, I have chosen to become a part of the very system that has made me fear the future.   On May 4th, 1970 I was an exceptional student, pragmatic in nature, not easily caught up in the thoughts and movements of those around me.  I lived in Leebrick Hall referred to as the Tri Towers on campus.  For me, campus living had always been a little trying.  I grew up on a farm and don't really understand wild and raucous behavior.  Earlier in the week of the 4th fellow students had built a swimming pool in the dorm lounge.  Where was their respect of private property?  Frankly, it continually amazed me the incredible stupidity of my contemporaries.  While I was studying and attempting to understand the world around me they were smoking pot and using album covers shooting shaving cream under peoples doors.  

Monday on my way to my first class of the day I passed assembling National Guardsman in the commons  and ran into Ron, who was in the class with me, moving through the students gathering for a protest.  As he passed he said, "Class is cancelled Jake."  and passed by.  I turned on my heals and started back towards  the Tri Towers.  Ron was about 30 feet in front of me.  He was weaving through the students thronged in the parking lot and I was walking in the conduit he cleaved in the crowd.  I heard the rapports of a rifles, heard the ba-ding of bullets bouncing off the asphalt around me and saw Ron throw himself to the ground as I was doing the same.  When the bullets stopped I bolted from the ground past Ron towards the towers weaving every couple of paces to make targeting more difficult.  I had no intention of being hit.  I ran past a woman bleeding from her neck surrounded by other students.  I ran past a student laying in a pool of his own blood.  When I got to Leebrick the doors were locked.  I panicked going from door to door until I finally found one that was open.  

The students who the weekend before had playfully built a swimming pool in the lounge were gone.  In their place milling about were horrified citizens, no longer students, but survivors of American democracy, tributes to the power of fear.  Some would soon be fighting and dying in the jungles of Vietnam.  Others, like Ron, would grow their hair long in protest and compete in Gymnastics meets.  Still others would live a life in shock societal limbs never quite able to feed the body of America again.

My response to the Kent State Massacre was to understand the historical significance of the events that had occurred and to have a positive impact on the future of America.  Next week I will be inducted into the FBI taking the exact same oath that the Kent State National Guardsman took before opening fire on innocent students protesting a war that was dubious at best:

"I solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic. That I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same. That I take this obligation freely - - without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion. And that I will carry out the orders of the officers appointed over me, and that I will, faithfully and honorably do my duty, so help me, God."

---

Copyright © 1993 - 2010 Philip Regenie, All Rights Reserved

Chapter 1 - Eclipse

“It is darkness that allows us to see the light.”

Philip Regenie

It was in tribute to freedom that Len was willing to drive home late at night on New Year’s Eve. It had been an especially good night. He had spent the late evening hours out with Jack walking in the hills above the pipeline road.

How long had he and Jack been doing this now? Twenty eight years. Every year they put chains on all four wheels of a four wheel drive vehicle and tried to go as far up the pipeline as they could before getting stuck. Sometimes they would make it to the last turnout before the boulder-strewn washout. That was in years when there was hardly any snow and they were driving the Rover. Normally, they would get to the first major hill and the vehicle would get stuck. From there they would hike the remainder of the distance in the snow to the lookout tree where the best photographs of Los Alamos were taken in the 1950’s.

The hike itself was cold and grueling even for athletes as gifted as Len and Jack. Len was blond, blue eyed, chiseled, six feet two inches tall, lean, athletic, disciplined.  Jack had short dark hair, intense dark brown eyes, a softer rounder face, was five foot ten inches tall and possessed uncanny strength.  Many years there were more than three feet of snow on the ground. This year they had hit the base of the pipeline road going 65 miles an hour. Rocks and debris flew everywhere. Twice they careened off trees on the way up the road.  Eventually, the Land Rover high centered on a snow drift and they were stuck. Len and Jack got out of the Rover and put on their snowshoes. They put on their caving helmets with carbide lights so they could see in the moonless night. It took them two hours to hike to the base of the lookout tree.

The lookout tree was a 100-foot ponderosa pine. Nestled between three branches that forked at the extreme top of the tree was a platform devoid of any rails. The only thing visible that indicated there was something at the top of the tree was an old frayed rope ladder that extended from the ground into the darkness above. The ladder was attached to the tree by large wood eye bolts every ten feet.

Len took a flask out of his breast pocket, took a swig, and passed the flask to Jack. Jack took a short drink of the peppermint schnapps and passed the flask back to Len. A wind was blowing from the northwest when Len started his ascent. The cold breeze nipped at the exposed skin of his face. The rope rungs were either so cold that his hands would stick or encased in ice so they were painful to grab. Fifteen feet up the ladder Len felt for the next rope rung and it was gone. It was the first of three missing rungs. The stretch was long between rungs but Len pulled hard to reach the next rung safely. The first one was easy, the last torture. Len reached the platform and pulled himself up exposing his face to arctic winds. The tree swayed from side to side as he lay panting listening for Jack.
Jack arrived a few minutes later. They sat up and tied themselves off by attaching a rope to their wastes and to one of the tree limbs holding up the platform. The wind was bitter cold.  Len took out the flask and they both toasted the New Millennium.
Every year, at midnight, Len held up the flask and said, “To freedom.”
Tonight they forgot the cold, the lack of side rails, and the swaying tree, inhaled the fresh pine air and stared out at a crystal clear world lit only by the lights of Los Alamos in the distance.

Their climb down the ladder was harder than the climb up. It was mostly accomplished by feel. When they reached the bottom Jack and Len climbed up to the road and traversed down it in their snowshoes until they got to the car.
Both of them considered the way back a time for meditation and solitude. It was a rare year that any words were said on the way down the mountain. After a grueling lift and shuffle down the road, Jack and Len saw the Rover. They had forgotten how stuck it was.  It was centered on a mound of ice, rocks, and snow leaving all four wheels suspended in the air.

Len took a rope out of the Rover and said, “I’ll look around for a lever arm if you’ll get the fulcrum ready.”

Jack sized up the situation and tried to pivot the Rover on the high centered mound unsuccessfully. He took out the shovel Len kept in the Rover and used it to build up two mounds of packed snow reinforced by sticks, logs, and rocks in the front and to the side of the Rover.

Len yelled over to Jack, “I found a lever but I’ll need your help to slide it back to the Rover.”

Len had already tied a rope around the log’s limbs and had it wrapped around an aspen limb that was ten feet off the ground. They tugged on the rope until the 15-foot log was out of its hole and almost even with them. Len made a harness and they both pulled the log the remainder of the distance to the Rover.

Jack leaned on the car, panting, and said, “I figure we should rotate the Rover on the mound so that our initial thrust will be downhill in a forward direction. If we put the log over here on the side, we should be able to rotate the Rover easily.”

Len set himself to help rotate the car and said, “OK, Let’s do it.” They both wrestled the log into position. Len sat on the log while Jack turned the Rover. It spun easily and kept rotating until Jack let up.

“I think we need to clear a runway for this thing,” said Len.

“Hang on a second, let me catch my breath. Geez, I’ll be glad when I get into bed. What time do you have, anyway?”

“I’ve got 2:36. It’s definitely been a long one this year.”

Len and Jack dug out a path in front of the Rover. In front of each tire they laid evergreen limbs for 20 to 30 feet. They then shoveled dirt and snow under the four wheels.
Jack said, “Let’s do it. Don’t stop if you don’t have to.”

Len got into the driver’s seat and Jack manned the log and screamed. “Let her rip.”

Len turned on the engine and shifted into second gear. He started to give it some gas. When Jack saw the wheels begin to turn he rocked the Rover with the lever arm until the car started to slide off high center. Len felt the increased momentum and gunned the car. It took off down the road. Jack slogged along in the shoes for another couple hundred yards until the snow level dropped. Len had stopped for him down the road. Jack got into the car exhausted. He looked over at Len.

“I don’t look as bad as you do, do I?”

“Oh no, you look ready for a night out at the opera,” Len joked.

“Hell yes, you look as bad as me. I’m drained. Let’s get home.”

“Hey, want me to drive?”

“Nah, I’ve gone this far. I’d like to finish it. Have you in bed safe and sound in 5 minutes.”  Len drove Jack home to North Mesa and started on his way to Barranca Mesa. Coming down the hill Len remembered that they were out of milk.

“Might as well get it now rather than get up in the morning. Great, I’m so tired I’m talking to myself. If that’s not bad enough, I’m swerving and it’s beginning to snow hard.”
Len drove the two miles to the Hilltop store, the only all night store in Los Alamos, and bought milk. As he walked out of the store he slipped from exhaustion and fell in the driveway.

“Getting old is great.” Len got into his car asleep on his feet. As he turned out of the driveway he drove straight off the curb. Len was beginning to wonder if he would make it home.

Chapter 2 - Auld Lang Syne

“Mere human beings cannot afford to be fanatical about anything. Not even about justice or loyalty. The fanatic for justice ends by murdering a million helpless people to clear a space for his law courts. If we are to survive on this planet there must be compromises.”

Storm Jameson

Through the heavy snowfall, Len barely noticed the flashing lights in his rear view mirror. He started pumping the brakes to get over to the curb. He’d been driving erratically from exhaustion. Len could barely get the window down. The officer was standing with the snow blowing into his face,“Excuse me sir, may I see your drivers license?”

Len was so tired he could hardly move. He fumbled for his wallet, “What is it officer?”

“I’ll have to ask you to step out of the car please.”

Len reached for his cell phone when the officer said more sternly, "Sir, I will not ask you to step out of the car again."

Len left his cell phone in the pocket on the side pocket of his valise and stepped out of the care.  He almost fell as he took a step to the ground. “Can you tell me what the problem is, officer?”

“I’m giving you a sobriety test. You were driving very dangerously for these conditions, sir.  Do you know what the day and time are, sir?”

The snow bit into Len’s already cold and exhausted body. He should have put on his parka before getting out of the car.

“Of course, it’s about 3 o’clock in the morning Jan 1st."

“Would you please stand on one leg and touch your nose for me, sir?”

Try as Len would he couldn’t succeed. The combination of poor balance, the wind blowing and the slick surface defeated him at all attempts.

“Please walk a straight line for me sir with both arms out like this.”

Len tried to walk a straight line but was too exhausted from the evening to stay on track for more than one step. On the third step he slipped and fell to the ground from exhaustion.

“I’m afraid I have to take you down to the station and check your blood alcohol level, sir. Get in the back of the car please. You can lock up your car and leave it there for the evening. I’ll notify a towing service of its existence.”

“Officer, I’m as sober as you are. I am exhausted and have no sense of balance.”

“If you don’t get in the back of my car immediately, I’ll be forced to handcuff you and charge you with resisting arrest.”

“Could I at least get my parka?”

“Yes sir, you may.”

Len reached into the Rover and got his parka from the passenger seat. He put the parka on and reached for his phone and portable computer.

Officer O’Mally said, “I’m sorry Mr. Mahoney, you can’t take anything with you to jail”.

“What do you mean I can’t take anything with me?”

Officer O’Mally pulled Len towards the police car, locked and shut the door of the Rover. After opening the rear door of the squad car he pushed Len’s head down to force his entry into the vehicle.

“You can’t treat me like this. I’m a highly placed lab official.”

Officer O’Mally slammed Len’s door, walked around the vehicle got in and drove the two miles to the police station in silence. Officer O’Mally’s rage was obvious. Len was quiet all the way to the station, afraid to incite him further. It all felt like a dream. The police station looked surreal, a flat white exterior masked against a snow flecked black sky. The quiet solitude of Los Alamos and Len’s exhaustion left him unprepared for the noise of the car door opening into the bright police station parking lot. Even though it was a cold January morning, Len had a damp acrid scent in his nose as he was pulled out of the car and approached the building entrance. Officer O’Mally opened the door for Len guiding him through the entrance. His throat became parched and constricted from the heated air. Officer O’Mally brought Len to the alcohol check station. The machine showed an alcohol level of .02 percent.

“See, I’m not drunk. Now will you let me go home?”

“This machine is not always accurate Mr. Mahoney. I can smell the alcohol on your breath and you couldn’t pass tests that require basic skills required to drive safely. I’m going to have to book you on reckless driving charges and release you in the morning.”

“You can’t do this to me. I am a very important person with the Labs.”

“This way Mr. Mahoney. It will go a lot better for you if you just go with the flow. We can make this a very unpleasant experience otherwise.”

Officer O’Mally took Len to the booking room where his fingerprints were registered, his possessions secured, and the paperwork filled out.

“Hi Rozz, here’s a hot one for you. His name is Mr. Leonard Mahoney.” The women doing the fingerprints was Hispanic and talked with a thick Mexican accent.

“Que pasa Ralph, busy night, no? Please extend your right hand with the fingers spread out, Mr. Mahoney?”


Len pulled his arm away from Rozz’s grasp. “This is a mistake. I need to use a telephone. I demand to use a telephone.”

Officer O’Mally grabbed Len’s arm and extended it to Rozz. She pried open Len’s fingers and placed them on the ink pad.

“Generally, I like to do things by the book, Mr. Mahoney. You however, have done nothing but give me and Rozz here a hard time. It’s going to be awhile until we can get you to a phone. Sorry about that.”

Len continued to demand his phone call throughout the night. The jailers and station attendants had heard it all before.

Chapter 3 - Good Morning

“Between the conception and the creation

Between the emotion and the response,

Falls the Shadow.”

T. S. Eliot

Barbara Chavez and Cedric Jennings walked from physics class to math class together on this early Saturday morning. Although it was still winter break at the University of Chicago, enrichment classes were being held for minority students who were having difficulties mastering their subjects. Both Barbara and Cedric had returned early from Christmas vacation to take the classes. Cedric graduated from Martin Luther King High School. His family lived at West 127th and 7th in the middle of Harlem, one of the highest-crime areas of New York City. Cedric had worked his whole life to be accepted into a top ranked school to escape poverty. In college, the burden of 12 years of poor education was shared by Barbara who had grown up outside Espanola, New Mexico, another poor educational district. Cedric had been low all week. He had been called into the Dean’s office and asked if he really felt that the University of Chicago was the right place for him. Nothing Cedric said could change the Dean’s obvious belief that Cedric was inferior.

Barbara kicked up a drift of snow and watched the flakes settle through the brilliant winter sun. Her parent’s families had lived in northern New Mexico for 300 years. They had settled next to the Rio Chama back in the late 1600’s. Her father worked as a security guard in Los Alamos. He had a good job and helped out quite a bit with her educational needs. It was his work in Los Alamos that had made him believe that his children could be something someday. He always said, “You can do anything you set your mind to. Learn as much as you can mija and do your best. That is what is important.”

“You can’t just run away, Cedric. You have to stay and prove to them you have what it takes. We all do. That’s our job as minorities, to prove we’re as good as the white man.”

“We can’t win that battle. We’re not white men. We’re the suppressed minority hoping for a handout. The hell of it is, I love science. There’s nothing I would rather do in this world than learn enough to understand physics and maybe someday think of something no one else ever has.”

A slight breeze blew the snow about their feet up into a whirling mist.

Naomi Felenstein put the last touches on Paul’s snowsuit by tying the hood tightly under his chin. She could hear the older children hurrying out of bed and getting ready. Paul, although the youngest, was always the first to rise. He had come into her room excited about the fresh snow waiting for him in the backyard. Naomi opened the door for her two and a half year old and shooed him into the backyard. Paul stood at the edge of the porch wondering how to attack two feet of untouched powder.

“Mom, don’t let Paul out until we’re all ready. O.K.?” Steve hated to miss out on anything. He was five and wanted to be there when the first tracks were put into the snow.

“It’s too late, honey.”

“Ah, Mom.”

“Give me my gloves.” Naomi rolled her eyes hearing Robert’s early morning demands.

“They’re not your gloves. They’re mine. Mommy said I could have them on my birthday.” Elise never lost an argument. At the age of 4 she could easily handle even 8 year old Harold.

Harold was calmly organizing himself for an all out assault on his brothers and sister. He had the experience and know how. Harold was wearing three T-shirts, two pairs of long underwear, a sweater, a pair of down pants, his heavy winter jacket, a scarf, and his ski gloves with an extra pair in his zip pockets.

When all three of the older children reached the back door, Paul was still standing at the edge of the porch afraid to move. Robert crashed through the screen door and jumped head first into the waiting snow.

“Robert, you get right back here and put on your insulated boots.”

“Come on Elise, last one to the fence is a rotten egg,” screamed Harold.

Elise ran through the door and off the porch into the snow at full speed. Two paces later she was lying on her back one step from where Robert had broken the snow. Harold was half way to the fence, blazing a trail by high stepping through the snow. Robert was crashing through the door again even as Paul was taking his first tentative steps where Harold had blazed a trail.

Naomi thought that she couldn’t live without her children. Their joy was overwhelming. Their screams subsided slightly as she retired to the kitchen to start the hot chocolate for their return in a half hour.

Anita Piazza looked into her mirror at a plucky, 5’ 5”, red haired 29 year old from Queens. She was getting ready for a 9 to 9 stint as a maternity nurse at Loyola Medical Center in Mayfield about seven and a half miles from her apartment. The bags under her eyes were reminders of her exceptionally late night partying until 4 in the morning with some old college friends who were in town for the holidays.

“Some bags, but I still look real good. I get a lot of compliments from the husbands’ of the preggers. God, I hate these holiday shifts. I guess I should be grateful that they let me come in three hours late this morning.”

Anita threw on her robe after applying some eye make up and went to get her morning cup of coffee. Anita lived in a high-rise apartment near Oak Park which overlooked Columbus Park Golf Course. Every morning she took a cup of coffee and sat in front of her balcony double sliding glass door on the 16th floor and looked out over the Columbus Park Golf Course to the east as she read the paper. She loved the warmth on her skin as the sun rose. After eight years she was finally adjusted to not living in New York and living in Chicago.

When she was finished with her coffee, Anita put on her nurse’s uniform and left for her day at the hospital. She liked to get there around 8:30, have a cup of coffee and catch up on what had happened the night before.

Anita hated the elevator in this apartment complex. It was incredibly slow. She was the only one getting on at the 16th floor. Most people had already left for work. The elevator stopped on 13. She hated that. Every morning it had to stop on that floor. Why this building had a 13th floor she didn’t know.

Old Mrs. Stenson got in the elevator with her poodle. It had on the usual jacket and jewel studded collar. Mrs. Stenson looked like an alligator purse with ears. She was 97 and walked the dog every day at 8:00.

“Hi Mrs. Stenson.” Anita said. “Taking your dog for its morning walk, I see.”

“Oh, you know me, dear. If I don’t walk Trudy, my day just isn’t the same. How’re you doing this morning, Anita?”

The elevator doors closed and the elevator started its slow descent.

Mrs. Stenson got that worried look and said, ”This elevator scares the hell out of me.”

“Me, too. I’m fine. Think we’ll see Rudy this morning?”

“I don’t know, dear. He’s been on the downhill slide ever since they arrested his brother. Not that his brother didn’t deserve it. That Arny used to scare me so. He had those beady eyes and always made some mean comment about Trudy here.” Mrs. Stenson leaned down and patted Trudy on the head.

“I’ve noticed that, too. I think he’s on drugs. Doesn’t look people in the eye anymore. You know he’s only 14.”

The elevator lurched to a halt on 2 and Rudy got in. His shirt was hanging out of his pants. He wore a torn leather jacket and smelled of old rum.

Looking at the floor, Rudy said, “Hi Mrs. Stenson. Anita.”

Mrs. Stenson said, “How are you, Rudy? I’m sorry to hear about your brother.”

Mrs. Stenson was five feet tall, withered back, totally white hair. Rudy was a big six footer weighing in at better than 180. His dark unkempt hair shadowed his dark skin and red eyes.

“Fine. He deserved it.” Rudy turned away from the women and pushed 1 again.
The door to the elevator closed and the elevator lurched into motion once again.

Chester and Klaus were in Jitter’s from 7:00 to 11:00 every morning. They walked down to the marina from their prospective apartments every morning at 6:00 for 30 years. Both filled their large mugs with Jitter’s special coal miner coffee and settled into a newspaper and a conversation. Chester and Klaus were born from immigrants who had come over to America after World War I. Chester’s parents had migrated from Yugoslavia and Klaus’s parent’s had migrated from Northern Germany. They had become fast friends some 50 years ago while working as welders in the Detroit ship yards during World War II.

Klaus looked at Chester forlornly, “It ain’t the same no more Klaus. I seen Harvey walking the street early this morning pushing a shopping cart. Hell, we worked with him in that machine shop down on Madison 30 years ago. He was a good man, too. Drank a little much, but who of us didn’t. Hear his old lady died of Tuberculosis. Took her five years and all his money. He’s been on the street ever since.”

“Couldn’ he get Social Security? I do not feel sorry for his like. He was a mean son of a bitch. Don’ you remember him gettin’ in that fight with that big black guy, Guss? Hell, ‘most knocked his head clean off with that bar.”

Ted and Ruth Cransten started their morning like so many other mornings since their retirement, sitting in front of the large glass windows of their retirement home overlooking Lake Zurich 15 miles outside of Chicago. Their living room faced South Southeast. Both loved to sit in the sun sipping orange juice reading the morning paper. Ted and Ruth worked hard their whole lives to achieve these years of quiet appreciation for the snow covered scene that stretched before them.

Ted looked at roof her weathered face reflecting the golden morning sun and said, “I love you. Mornings like this one remind me of that.”

“Why, thanks. It’s so nice to sit here and not worry about anything. The sun feels good this morning on my old bones. Isn’t that fog lifting off the lake beautiful?”

“Sure is. Look over there.”

Ruth could not see what Ted was pointing at.

“It’s that white owl I told you about. He’s in that large maple tree right by the branch that splits in three. Can you see him?”

“Oh, he’s beautiful. I’m going to get the binoculars.”

Chapter 4 - Still Falls the Rain

“Still falls the Rain

Dark as the world of man, black as our loss

Blind as the nineteen hundred and forty nails

Upon the Cross.”

Dame Edith Sitwell

It had been a horrible night. When Len wasn’t in bed with her by 6 a.m. she was scared to death that he and Jack had finally killed themselves on their New Year’s Eve climb.  Maria called Jack to see if he had arrived home.

“Hi Jack, this is Maria. Len didn’t make it home last night. Do you know where he is?”

“He dropped me off at 2:40, Maria. This is not good. You had better call the police. I’ll call the hospital.”

She immediately called the police. “Hello, this is Maria Chavez. My husband didn’t come home last night and I’m worried he may have been hurt. Can I speak to whoever it is that handles these matters?”

“I can help you Mrs. Chavez. What is your husband’s name?”

“Leonard Mahoney. He dropped his friend off last night at 2:40 and hasn’t been heard from since. I’m really worried. This isn’t like him.”

“Just a moment -- Mrs. Chavez, we have Mr. Mahoney in detention for driving under the influence. He will be released at 7:30 this morning.”

“Why didn’t he call me last night?”

“I can’t answer that question. Is there anything else?”

“No, no. There’s nothing else.”

Maria was despondent as she got off the phone with the police station. Len had never been drunk in the 24 years of their marriage. Holding him for driving under the influence was ridiculous. She moved over to the sink to look out the kitchen window at the boys. They had gotten up early and started their chore of shoveling the driveway. Len’s Rover was conspicuously missing. Jonathan was shoveling the snow off the sidewalk and Peter was doing the driveway. Maria was looking out the kitchen window watching Jonathan and his brother work.

The warm early morning mountain sun shone through the window easing her anxiety. She couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Should I go to the police station and get him? No, I’d better not. If he didn’t call me, there must have been a reason. I better call Jack.”

“Hi, Jack, this is Maria. I found Len. He was arrested for driving under the influence. Were you two drinking last night?”

“You know us better than that. Len takes New Year’s Eve seriously. We had two shots of schnapps a piece over a four hour period. Mostly, we were exhausted. I was worried about him on his drive home. If you’d like I can go down and get him. What time does he get out?”

“They said 7:30 this morning. I’m afraid he’s embarrassed about getting arrested last night. Why else wouldn’t he call? I’ll just wait here with the boys. Thanks, Jack.”

Maria felt a lot better. Jack would calm Len down on his drive home. Lately, Len had been so agitated. She turned on the radio and settled down into the kitchen chair to have some coffee.

Chapter 5 - Boundaries

“I shall tell you a great secret, my friend. Do not wait for the last judgment. It takes place every day.”

Albert Camus

Jack couldn’t believe it. Len might have been tired but he should have made it home without problems. On what grounds could they arrest him last night? This type of incident had been happening far too frequently these last years. It was a major point of discussion between he and Len. Nothing to do about it but get down to the station and pick up Len. Jack got into his Hummer and drove down to the station. The roads were still slick and snow laden. Jack took Diamond Drive past the cemetery. He could see the development nestled in amongst the trees behind the firehouse. When he was a kid they had started many Boy Scout hikes from the cemetery up Redondo canyon. Back then it was a quiet, undeveloped place. To his left was the front nine of the Los Alamos golf course. It was laden with three feet of snow. The trees’ boughs hung heavily. Jack rolled down his window and let the 20 degree air blast him in the face with winter freshness. Jack didn’t pass one car on the way to the station. People were still in bed from New Year’s Eve. His last thought as he parked in the police station parking lot was how the world had changed since childhood with Len.

“Hi, I’m here to meet Len Mahoney. He’s supposed to be released soon.”

A large heavy set sergeant told Jack, “He’s just now going through processing. He should be out here in a minute. You can wait over there on that bench.”

Len came out looking wild and frustrated.

“We have to hurry Jack. I’ve got to get home.”

“It’s O.K. Len. Maria knows all about it. Why didn’t you call her?”

“They wouldn’t let me use the phone. Come on, where’s your car?”

Jack ran after Len into the parking lot. Len had found his car and was getting into the passenger seat. Jack hurried into the driver seat and started the Hummer.

“Jesus, Len, what’s your hurry. You’ve been locked up all night. Another five minutes can’t make that much of a difference.”

“Get this damn car out of here and to my car as fast as you can drive!”

“All right! Lots of thanks! I saw the Rover on the way here parked before the golf course hill. You can get out there and be rid of me.”

Jack backed out and drove 55 mph until they reached Len’s Land Rover.

Chapter 6 - Surprise

“We must not make a scarecrow of the law, setting it up to fear the birds of prey, and let it keep one shape, till custom make it their perch, and not their terror.”

William Shakespeare† 1564-1616

Ted was looking at the owl through the binoculars when the flash of light exploded out of the south burning his eyes. He dropped the glasses in pain and turned towards Ruth. The living room lit up. Ruth turned her head away from the window and fell to the ground. As Ted fell to the ground with his wife, the windows shattered.

Chester put his pipe down and folded the paper to get to the next section. Klaus took another drink of coffee and stared at the morning papers headline, “ELIGIBILITY FOR SOCIAL SECURITY SET AT 75”. A bright light enveloped the restaurant.
Klaus saw the expression of horror on Chester’s face and asked, “What was that?”, as he turned to see for himself.

Chester dropped to the ground expecting a shock wave to hit saying, “Hit the deck Klaus.”
A shock wave rocked the building with resounding thunder. A second wave hit moments later. All the restaurant patrons were lined up at the north window staring in awe at the mushroom cloud that enveloped the morning sky.

The elevator began to shake just as thunder, louder than any sound Anita could imagine, deafened her. Rudy was thrown against Mrs. Stenson knocking her to the floor. Fear welled up in Anita. Rudy and Mrs. Stenson bounced off the opposite wall and rebounded in her direction. Anita side stepped their fall to her feet. She was fortunate to be holding the hand rail when the shock hit. Calm decended. Anita bent over to help Mrs. Stenson up. Blood ran down her face. Trudy was crushed under Rudy’s comatose body. Just as Mrs. Stenson reached for Trudy’s hand, another shock wave hit. Anita lurched forward hitting her head on the other side of the elevator. A loud snapping sound was accompanied by the sound of a piano wire snapping, and darkness. Rudy, Anita, and Mrs. Stenson were piled against one side of the elevator. The dark quiet calm was accented by a slim beam of light reaching in through the elevator door. Anita was the first to rise, her head and shoulder in severe pain. She leaned on the rail and inched her way up to standing on the canted floor. Rudy began to moan. Anita heard screams from above.

“Mrs. Stenson. Rudy. Are you all right?”

Rudy drawled out a pained, “Yeah, just great. What the hell happened? Where are the lights?”

Anita leaned over where she thought Mrs. Stenson would be and felt around with her hands. She felt the warm slick feeling of blood on the floor. Her hand slid forward into Mrs. Stenson’s face. Anita felt for a pulse on the neck. Nothing.

“Oh my god. Mrs. Stenson’s dead.”

Rudy said, “I’m afraid, Anita.”

“Me too.” And lower to herself, “Me too.”

“We need to get out of here. The door is a little ajar. Do you think you can wedge it open?”

“I can try.” Rudy stuck his foot against one wall of the elevator and pulled on the door. It gave a couple of feet. They were half way down onto the first floor.

“Good job. Try the outside door.”

Rudy put his foot against the outside door and pushed. It gave only a couple of inches.

“I need help on this one.”

Anita got on the other side of the door from Rudy and pulled. The door gave another couple of feet letting a grey light in from the outside. Screams came down from above. Glass was lying on the floor everywhere. Anita looked over at Mrs. Stenson. Her neck and arm were broken. She lay misshapen in a pool of blood on the elevator floor next to Trudy.

Rudy held Anita’s arms as she slid off the elevator floor to the lobby of the apartments. A cold breeze blew across her legs. Rudy hopped down to the floor behind Anita. She was staring at the mushroom cloud that filled her view through the broken lobby glass. Rudy crumpled to the floor on his knees crying.

Naomi was thrown against the stove as the force of the blast ripped through her house. All the windows were blown out instantly. The back door was ripped off its hinges and thrown against the opposite wall. Naomi threw the scalding hot chocolate over her right shoulder and fell to the ground. Fear for her children seized her heart with unbearable anguish. Harold saw the flash out of the corner of his eye and turned to face it. The heat flash instantly burned the exposed skin of his face and blinded him. The blast of the wind threw his standing body against the house and into the living room. Elise was sitting on top of Robert trying to stuff snow into the hood of his jacket when the shock wave knocked her off her brother and onto Paul who was making a snow man. Snow blew with such fury that the children were buried in a drift within seconds of the blast. The roof was torn off the house and thrown on top of their car which was parked 30 feet in front of the house.

Barbara and Cedric were enveloped in the fire ball within a tenth of a second after the detonation. They didn’t know they were vaporized or even that an explosion occurred. A half mile of Chicago was enveloped in fire. Any home with two miles of ground zero was completely destroyed. No house or building was left standing. Every house within three miles of ground zero was destroyed beyond livability. After the second shock wave was sucked towards ground zero, people began to make a tentative evaluation of their surroundings. A fire raged around the silent center of Chicago. Broken gas mains were burning all over the city. Houses as far away as 20 miles suffered broken windows.

The lucky people outside the deadly three-mile limit looked out of their broken home and office windows onto a scene never before experienced in America. In front of them was the horror of nuclear war. It was 9:15 on a cold bright Saturday morning January 1.



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Chapter 7 - Patriot

“He was a great patriot, a great man; above all, a great American. His country was the ruling, mastering passion of his life from the beginning even unto the end.”

Henry Cabot Lodge

Jake Felenstein was on the nuclear task force set up by the CIA. He had been working as a lead investigator in nuclear terrorism since the 1970’s. As was typical of most agents, Jake had been assigned top priority research domains that were his responsibility to track. He was in charge of Los Alamos nuclear anomalies, North Korean nuclear armament, Russian nuclear security arrangements, and investigation into the possible possession and proliferation of weapons grade plutonium in the northern hemisphere. Jake was the CIA’s top nuclear agent for good reasons. He was thorough, intelligent, dogged, and 100% loyal to the United States and the laws therein.

Jake was playing racquetball when his cell phone indicated that he had a message by beeping in the corner of the racquetball court. Jake went over to the corner and picked up his cell phone. He turned on the message facility. In a small screen the size of a 35 millimeter slide, a picture of his boss and friend, Joseph Conrad spoke to him, “Jake, the worst possible thing just happened five minutes ago. Chicago has been destroyed by a nuclear bomb. I need you Jake. Be in my office in 10 minutes with the priority targets.”

Jake was in Joe’s office in five minutes with the folders. Joseph took the top three folders and activated them for immediate attention by the CIA and the military. All three agencies worked very closely on the issues of nuclear proliferation and terrorism. Jake identified the most probable sources of nuclear terrorist attacks as, al-Qa’ida, Taliban, Iran, and North Korea. All had significant incentives, economic viability, and the scientific capabilities necessary to perpetrate the crime.

After handing over the primary targets, Jake started researching in earnest. He didn’t believe that North Korea, or Iran had anything to do with the nuclear weapon which had detonated in downtown Chicago. If any of the three most probable sources had intentions of doing something like this, Jake believed he would have known about it.

Through a first military appraisal of the explosion, Jake believed the explosion to be ground or subterranean based. The weapon was not dropped but planted. That meant that whoever planted the weapon had to have been in Chicago within the last couple of years. Jake knew there were only a handful of individuals in the world with sufficient knowledge and resources to put together weapons of the magnitude that caused the explosion in Chicago. He unlocked his specially designed portable computer with a finger print identifier. Before the computer would boot it displayed the number 27,391 and requested a password from Jake. The password was encrypted with a rolling encryption. Jake had to permute a series that was a part of the password for each entry into the computer. It took him several minutes to enter the password. He entered the three dimensional view of a library by touching the screen at that location. He then chose the aisle for individual historical research and touched the question mark at the end of the isle. A window appeared on the screen with selections for Person, Place, Thing, Event, Group, Date, and Activity. Jake selected activity and entered “finance, design, build, nuclear weapon”. A list of 53 groups and individuals was presented in a window on the screen. Jake saved the list under “potential nuclear weapons providers” and further filtered it with “terrorism”. Jake sorted the list by the data field, “Existing Probability”. He then saved this list under “Nuclear Terrorists” and selected the profile on the first name, Bin Laden.

Jake said, “Connect to Interlink, section Terrorism, individual Laden”.

His computer was immediately connected through WiFi to the Interlink massively parallel computer network. The Interlink network was a connection of thousands of computers worldwide and their associated databases. Included in the IPWeb where supercomputers for modeling the probable target locations of nuclear terrorism and through uplinks to military satellites the locations and probable movements of terrorist groups worldwide.

The audio requested, “Hello Mr. Felenstein, Please take the retinal scan.”

Jake placed a cupped device attached to the port on his computer over his eye and waited.

“Access number 31,135, Please enter your password.”

Jake entered the encrypted password. He wove his way through the IPWeb interface to determine the current whereabouts and known activities of Bin Laden. He finally had a list of daily locations and group activities associated to Bin Laden. The list included military activities, number of personnel, Bin Laden’s suspected location, armament information and most recent terrorist acts.

Jake checked the same thing for all seven names on the list. After inspection of the IPWeb information, Jack placed an emergency wide area network request for all agents and information experts that participated in the IPWeb to hook up for teleconferencing. Every computer attached to the net that had audio capabilities put an S.O.S blast loud enough for anyone within 50 feet to hear. Immediately windows started appearing on Jake’s screen of teleconferencing participants. Jack addressed the growing crowd.

“You are all aware of the situation. I have placed a primary list of the 7 most likely active nuclear terrorists on your queues. A secondary list of 46 names has also been placed on your queues. I need to know if anyone has information that indicates movement and possible activity from any of these sources. If anyone even remotely suspects a group or individual not on the two lists, I want information forwarded to all members immediately. Lastly, I would appreciate any ideas regarding a methodology for tracking down the most probable cause of this disaster and any information that might lead us to avert any further incidents like this one.”

“Jake, CIA agent Ben Hadu in Iraq. I have just received word from an informant. There is a claim from Omar Abdul-Mukhtar that he is responsible for this incident.”

“Thanks, Ben. I suspect the White House is already informed but will forward that to engaging parties. We are taking no chances. Anyone that claims responsibility for this terrorist act will be annihilated immediately. Ben, do you have his current location?”

“Yes, his last confirmed satellite location was eight days ago. The computer has generated three probable current locations. Here is a map with the three locations marked.”

“Thank you. Forward that map to me and Colonel Baker for immediate response. Any more possible leads or questions?”

“Jake, this is historical analyst Harold Ransom at Stanford. Are any actions being taken to investigate possible citizen activity, either by Neo Nazi groups, Black Activists, or possible religious groups?”

“Considered low priority. Run with that and get me any information on activities from citizen based groups. That’s all for now.”
Jake signed off the IL and his computer.

Chapter 8 - Terrorism

“No one can kill Americans and brag about it. No one.”

Ronald Reagan

The United States government mobilized immediately. An air raid alert was sounded in every first strike city across the nation. Mobilization of USSTRATCOM for a full scale offensive was ordered within minutes of the explosion. Within 20 minutes of the disaster, news networks were informing the nation of the horror. Currently, all that was known was that a nuclear weapon had detonated in the heart of Chicago. Radar sightings, a tremendous crater, and the amount of particulate matter projected into the atmosphere meant the device was not dropped from an aircraft but exploded at or below ground level.

Television and radio interrupted all programs to bring coverage of the incident. People around the world were horror stricken by the magnitude of the violence. Cameras rolled across a barren bull’s-eye surrounded by sparsely placed askew telephone poles. The Chicago River flowed into a thousand foot wide crater where the South Fork of the Chicago River and the Chicago rail yards had once met. The heart of the city was completely destroyed for two miles from the epicenter. For another mile people were seen on TV wandering about aimlessly screaming, sitting on piles of debris in tears, tearing through debris to get at loved ones, or trying to rip melted nylon off of their bodies. Overpasses, bridges, buildings and signs were flattened beyond recognition. Although the day had started as a bright winter morning, the view from the camera showed an overcast city fatally wounded in less than a minute, without warning or cause. Soot drifted across every camera shot. A giant dust devil focused a funnel of airborne dust and soot around the inner city in testament to the apocalypse.

All investigative agencies of the government; Homeland Security, the FBI, the CIA, the NSC, and all three armed forces investigative teams were working to determine the enemy. Each agency mobilized 100% of its existing forces to determine who and how this atrocity had been committed. As the teams worked, calls were being received from people claiming responsibility for the destruction.

Chapter 9 - Force

“I think that the sacredness of human life is a purely municipal ideal of no validity outside the jurisdiction. I believe that force, mitigated as far as may be by good manners, is the ultima ratio, and between two groups of men that want to make inconsistent kinds of world I see no remedy except force … It seems to me that every society rests on the death of men.”

Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes

Ralph was in the locker room when Fred came in to get ready for the next shift.

“Hey, Fred. What’s going on?”

“Just getting ready for the day from Hell. I hate January 1st when I’m on. I should be home getting over a hangover, not here dealing with last night’s shit. Lucky you, to be off.”

“Speaking of last night’s shit. You wouldn’t believe this guy I picked up for DWI last night at 3 a.m. These cone heads are amazing. He just got released. Couldn’t hold him for DWI ‘cause the machine was broken again. According to Rozz, he was in the tank screaming the first hour he was in there. I can see the headlines; “World Blows Up, Cop Arrests Drunken Conehead.”

“Don’t I feel just terrible.”

Fred started to laugh but was cut off by the air raid sirens. “Hey, it’s not a work day. Didn’t they turn that off for January 1st. Cone Heads! I’m going out to the squad car for a cig Ralph. You want one?”

“Sure, I’m on your heels. Let’s turn on the radio and see if they have anything on this siren.”

Fred unlocked the passenger door for Ralph, went around to the other side and got in the behind the wheel. Ralph got in and opened up the glove compartment and got out Fred’s pack of cigarettes. He knocked out a Camel for Fred and then got one for himself and put the pack back. Fred lit his cigarette, turned on the radio and passed the lit cigarette to Ralph.

“This just in from Chicago. A huge explosion, possibly nuclear, has destroyed the center of the city. This is the emergency broadcasting system. Marshal Law is in effect for all cities that are first strike cities for nuclear terrorists. Please stay tuned to this radio station for further announcements. Do not go outside. We repeat, do not go outside.”

Chapter 10 - Knowledge is Power

“In a time of turbulence and change, it is more true than ever that knowledge is power.”

John Fitzgerald Kennedy 1917-1963

Jack said, “What the hell is that?”

Len got out of the car and ran towards his Rover. Jack watched Len rummage around inside the car and come out with a backpack and rifle thrown over his shoulder. Len ran back towards Jack’s Hummer, opened up the back window, and threw both the gun and backpack into the rear of the vehicle.

“What the hell. Why aren’t you taking your car home?”

Len went around the car and got in the passenger side, slamming the door behind him.

“Let’s go Jack. Get the hell out of here.”

“You think that siren is real?”

Len slumped into a heap with his head between his knees crying. “Come on Len, talk to me. Are we in a survival situation?”

Len answered in a muffled sob. “I think so. It’s New Year’s day and that siren shouldn’t have gone off this morning.”

The Hummer topped Baranca Mesa onto Rendija Drive when Jack looked over at Len again. He was looking at a man who in no way resembled the fellow of a moment before with his head between his knees. Len was back. The strength and conviction were in his bearing. Jack had followed Len through life because of this quality.

“That’s more like it. What the hell happened to you?”

“Turn on the radio, will you Jack?”

“...Please stay tuned to this radio station for further announcements. Do not go outside. We repeat, do not go outside...”

“Jack, listen to me. We’ve got to keep on going. We can’t stop at my house or your house or anyone’s house. We need to take that back road behind the Valle Grande until we can go no further. From there we need to hike in to Dead Man’s Cave.”

“...We repeat, a huge explosion, possibly nuclear, has just destroyed the center of Chicago...”

“Christ Len, did you hear that. My mom and dad live outside of Chicago. Do you think Los Alamos is next? What about Maria and the kids?”

“They’ll be much safer in the nuclear shelters than with us, if it comes to that. I’m worried they’ll be looking for me next. I don’t think Maria and the kids could make the hike in this snow, regardless. For now, we’ve got to get out of here.”

“What do you mean you think they’ll be looking for you next? That’s crazy. Unless, you think it’s some well organized terrorist plot.” Len shook his head in assent.

“O.K. I know you well enough to know you have your reasons. Let’s do it.”

Jack drove straight on Rendija Road into the canyon. They started down a very steep hill cut 20 feet through tufa mesa tops. Snow was plowed in piles 10 feet high on either side of their descent.

Jack looked out his window as the terrain slid by. He thought of the memories of this canyon as a child. To their right was the canyon they had played in most often. He and Len had built a fort dug into the ground under a rock embankment just below the trail that was barely visible from here. A road sign indicated a severe dip in the road ahead. Jack ignored it and let the Hummer run out in third at 45 mph. Len hit his head on the roll bar that crossed just behind their seats.

“Thanks a lot Jack. No need to leave town, maybe you can finish me off before the gun club.”
 “Don’t mention it. Oh, you might want to put on your seat belt. Hey look, there’s the cliff where you found the Tyrannosaurus Rex bones.”

“Yeah, you sure thought that’s what they were. Didn’t you spend two hours booby trapping the bones while we went to get something to carry them out?”

Len laughed for the first time since Jack had picked him up. Behind the laugh was a deep sorrow. Jack knew his friend well. Something was sorely amiss. They passed the old gun club just south of Guaje Mountain. They had spent many a year hunting jack rabbits on that mesa top. Jack gunned the Hummer up to 65 mph. Len pretended a bored yawn. Jacked increased the speed to 75. They were definitely driving beyond the conditions. Two miles ahead was the jump. At 75 they would fly 40 feet before touching ground. Right after touching they would have to negotiate a 40 degree turn around a cliff face that bordered an arroyo. A mistake would cost them an hour with the wench. Both had done it a hundred times throughout their lives. Jack negotiated the jump with ease sliding around the corner at 55. Len had his head out the window sucking 18 degree air into his lungs. The day was definitely starting to pick up.

Chapter 11 - The Play

“In the creative process there is the father, the author of the play; the mother, the actor pregnant with the part; and the child, the role to be born.”

Konstantin Sergeevich Alekseev Stanislavski 1863-1938

The air raid signal blasted across the snow laden lawns of Los Alamos. Jonathan and Peter came rushing into the house saying together, “What’s happening, Mom? Where’s Dad?”

“...turn on your television sets for further coverage. We repeat, please do not use your telephone. All lines are busy...”

“Oh my God, that’s where Barbara goes to school. We have to call  Tata.”

Peter looked at his stricken mom, “You can’t Mom, they said don’t use the telephone. Where’s Dad and what’s happening?”

“Go turn on the TV. The radio just said that Chicago’s been blown up. Your father will be home in few minutes.”

Maria sat down in front of the T.V.. She barely heard the commentary. Both Jonathan and Peter were silently watching their mother mouth words as she sat rocking in the chair in front of the television.

“Dear God, I hope Barbara is O.K. She left to go back to school the day after Christmas. Len and Jack should have been here by now.”

“Peter, mi hito, could you get me my cell phone on the nightstand in my room?”

“Thanks, mi hito.”

“Hello, this is Jack Cransten’s house. I’m not in right now so leave a message after the beep. Thanks....beeeep.”

“Ahh, I’m not having a good day. I have to call the police.”

“Hello. Yes, this is Maria Mahoney. My husband, Leonard was in jail there last night. Has he left yet?”

“Just a minute. Yes ma’m. He and a friend left at least 20 minutes ago.”

“Thank you.”

Maria hung up the phone and started to talk to herself again.

“Where’s Dad, Mom? Why did you say he was in jail last night? Mom, talk to us.” Jonathan looked at Peter and shook his head.

“Jack would have brought him right home. Something’s not right. Get your coats on boys. We’re going to look for your dad.”

Jonathan and Peter ran out the door to the car. Jonathan got in the front seat of the Jeep with his mom. Peter took the back seat. Maria headed towards the police station. When they topped the hill after the golf course, a tow truck was pulling a U-turn with their Rover in tow.

“None of this makes sense. My husband is arrested for drunk driving. He doesn’t even drink. Chicago is destroyed, possibly taking my sister with it. And now we find our car being towed and my husband and his best friend missing.”

Chapter 12 - Miracle

“To me every hour of the light and dark is a miracle, Every cubic inch of space is a miracle.”

Walt Whitman 1819-1892

 Len looked up at the huge boulders suspended miraculously in the air by 100 foot columns half their width. As a child he and Jack had been caught overnight on top of the mesa they were passing. Search and rescue had spent the night hoping to save the boys lives before they died from hypothermia. They had dug out a shelter in a copse of trees and laid branches and weeds over the hole. Their night was quite restful. In the early morning a rescue worker was surprised to see them walking along the road on the way back to their house. Both remembered the best tuna fish sandwich they had ever had.

Jack made the turn up Guaje Canyon towards the pumice mines. There was a back road through the pumice mines that would shield them from a nuclear hit on Los Alamos. This was a smart choice by Len. There was at least two feet of snow on the road. There would be points on the switchback up to White Eagle Pumice Mine where chains would be needed. Even then he wondered if they would make it.

 There was a huge shaft that descended from the top of the mountain used to shunt the pumice into trucks. It stood as a headstone to the mine. In Junior High they would sit on cardboard and ride the shaft. It was insane.  There were holes in the shaft on the way down that had to be avoided. If you didn’t bail before the end, you were a dead man. The fence in front of the shaft lay broken in half. Years ago Jack and Len had cut the fence by placing hollow point bullets one next to the other in the fence staves. Eventually, over the years, they had cut the fence in half.

 “Do you still have the emergency store in your Hummer, Jack?”

 “We planned for this years ago. You know I do. Are you going to tell me what your thinking or leave me hanging?”

 “Later, let’s put the chains on. We need better time than this.”

 They stopped just below the switchback up the pumice mine road. Both were dressed in last night’s clothes; heavy boots, parkas and snow pants. Jack threw one set of chains to Len. They were finished in three minutes.

 “Jack, all I can tell you is we have to make great time. You have to drive this beast faster and better than you’ve ever driven before.”

 “What do you want to do when we get to the Santa Clara Ranger Station? They’re closed this time of year and that gate is impassable.”

 “We’ll have to drive around and chainsaw down the trees. We’ll just winch them clear. Won’t be a problem.  Our big problem will be getting through Santa Clara Canyon.”

 Jack and Len had driven these mountains for more than 30 years. Their entire driving childhood had been spent racing through these dirt roads. Len watched his memories roll by as they traversed switchbacks up 500 foot mesas, drove over frozen stream beds, and slid down pumice embankments. He looked over at Jack. His friend had stuck by him his whole life. Would he stick by him through this? He had to. “I need Jack. He’s the wind beneath my wings.”

 Although New Mexico had been growing at an astounding rate, the high mountains northwest of Los Alamos saw little to no human traffic. This was partly due to the impassable nature of the roads in this area. The terrain changed quickly from canyon junipers to widely spaced pines. Large snow white cones of pumice pierced the rugged granite with castle facades. Snow covered all but the steepest ground in quiet solitude. Above them, as they drove, circled two crows on warmed currents in the crystal blue mountain skies.

 No matter what disaster befell the world, these mountains would always be peaceful and quiet. In these hills were the Indian burial grounds of the twelfth century. It was here that Conquistadors camped before continuing their march into Colorado. North of these impassable mountains the Spaniards settled northern New Mexico in the late fifteen hundreds. Their families were still here. Maria’s family lived just 20 miles to the west in Espanola.

 Len’s musing was interrupted by a loud thud on his door panel. Jack had lost control for a moment and skidded sideways into a tree.

 “Sorry about that.”

 “No problem.”

 All four wheels spun in the deep snow drift until the Hummer high centered. Jack looked ahead at 12 feet of snow piled up in front of the Hummer. The canyon collapsed into a ravine that had 50 foot rock walls on either side of the road. This was the third time they had gotten out of the Hummer and attempted to dig a runway to ram through the drift. From here in the road was impassable by car. The crisp morning air filtered through his nose as the silence wrapped him in a blanket of calm.

 “Well, this is it Len. We can’t go an inch further in the Hummer. What say we break for lunch.”

 Len was lost in the same trance of quiet solitude that had held Jack for a moment. “Oh yeah, that’s a good idea. Do you still have the white tarp for the Hummer?”

 “Sure.”

 “Let’s cut it up and cover what we can when we’re on the move. We’ll make this lunch a short one. I estimate we still have 1 1/2 days to where Canones Creek is intersected by that stream that runs off Cerro Pavo Peak. I want to bivouac in Dead Man’s Cave until we can decide what to do.”

 “Just what the hell is this all about Len? Why didn’t you pick up your family? None of this makes sense to me.”

 “I’ve got a lot of explaining to do. Not now though. You have to trust me. I’m sending Maria an email tonight to explain. What’s for lunch?”

 “I’ve got some cans of chili and beans, some Indian bread, some tang, and some power bars. Figure we should save the dried food for the trip.”

 Jack got out of the Hummer and opened up the back. He pulled out Len’s backpack and his own and set them in the snow by the side of the Hummer. The back of the Hummer was filled with storage containers and water containers. Guns were mounted on the driver side windows and crossbows were mounted on the passenger side windows. Jack took a tarp out and handed it to Len. He opened up a green storage container marked “Canned Goods” and pulled out the beans and tossed them onto the tarp.

 “Do you want to heat these up?”

 “Nah, haven’t got the time. Where’s that Indian bread?”

 Jack pulled the bread out of a container marked “Dried Goods” and said, “Just tell me this. Does it have something to do with Chicago.”

 “Yeah.”

 “Open up that can, will yuh? I’ll start checking off the packing. How many days of water and food do you want to carry?”

 “Maximum possible. Say three weeks of food and a quart of hiking water. We can set up a cistern using a space blanket and melt water during the days. There are a lot of streams along the way to refill.”

 Jack held up a luger and asked Len, “Do you want to take weapons? What about your rifle?”

 “Leave it. I don’t want to take anything that makes noise. Let’s pack the crossbows.”

 Len opened up the can of beans and handed it to Jack who was getting out of the Hummer pulling the white tarp.

 “Thanks Len. You want to ruin my tarp. Great. What do you want to cover, the backpacks and leggings?”

 “That should be good enough. We can extend the tarp over the packs and snow shoes so that we’re not visible from the air. The remainder can still cover the Hummer.”

 Len and Jack spent the next half hour taking bites of bread and loading their packs with mountain climbing gear, winter boots, sleeping bags, hammocks, emergency kits, stoves, knives, thermal cushions, tents, wool socks, wool shirts, wool pants, crossbows, darts, fire starter, flint, matches, space heater, water, and dried food. Len packed his notebook computer and battery against the back wall of the backpack.

 “Hey Jack, remember this.” Len held up a 1 foot by 1 foot by 1 inch black box with a collapsible antenna attached to it. You helped me design and build this. I always have it packed and ready to go in my backpack.”

 “Sure I remember. It was the crowning achievement in a long line of computer innovations we had that didn’t make us a dime. You’re not thinking of backpacking that dinosaur in with us are you?”

 “Have to. Maybe you’d like to carry it half the time?”

 “Sure, Len. I’d love to leave my job and friends behind in the time of a national disaster and carry your play toys miles into a snow laden wilderness. Would you like me to pay you money for this opportunity?”


 “No. That’s O.K. Just sacrifice your life for me when the time comes.”

 Jack finished cutting out the cloth necessary to cover them in white while they were tracking into Dead Man’s Cave. Jack covered the Hummer with Len’s help and said, “Let’s lash the cloth coverings onto our legs and backpacks and get going”

 Len and Jack helped each other with their backpacks and turned northwest.

 “Jack, no matter what comes of this, thanks.”

 Cero Toledo Peak rose up to their left, the top unseen. They had just passed the spring at the end of Turkey Canyon. Ponderosa pines rose up on all sides of them. Santa Clara Creek gurgled under blue ice. The cliff faces rose up silently in front of them glistening against the dark blue winter sky. A small breeze blew down the canyon and circled powder around their cross country skis and leggings. A crow drifted silently above the canyon as another cawed in a tree down by the spring. A jack rabbit broke down the creek bed weaving between oak bushes and sage. Over the Sierra de Toledo ridge to their left was the Valle Grande, one of the largest calderas in the world.

 Jack thought of the first time he met Len. He had jumped onto a rock in his backyard. That moment so many years ago opened up the doors to a whole new world made of mystery and science. Adventures lay awaiting him everyday in the canyons and backyards of Los Alamos. He knew that once again he had come to a cusp in his life.

Chapter 12.3 - The Phoenix

“Morality is not properly the doctrine of how we may make ourselves happy, but how we may make ourselves worthy of happiness.”

Immanuel Kant

The Los Alamos Medical Center is built upon a high piece of ground along side Trinity drive.  The rooms inside the hospital overlook a town covered in a silent blanket of snow.  Mountains surround the town.  The stark white is exaggerated by the dark blue sky.  Margaret has checked into the hospital to deliver the Mahoney’s child.  Tom is on his way back from a nuclear test sight in Nevada.

Tom drove up to the security check point outside of town.  He recognized Sergeant Davis while slowing down to a stop.  The machine gun swung in his direction and the flood light on his car made him nervous.

“Hi Sarge.  Could you please hurry, my wife’s having a baby?”

Tom handed Sergeant Davis his drivers license and his security clearance card.  Sergeant Davis called over to the main building the identification of the driver.

“Come on Sarge, hurry!”

“Look, Tom, you know damned well how long this procedure takes.  We can’t rush it.  Do you want us to take our job seriously or not?”

The sergeants radio piped up, “Thomas Mahoney is clear for entry, over.”

“Here’s your license and security clearance cards. Good luck with that baby.”

Tom went directly to the emergency room.  They told Tom that Margaret had been taken up to room 216 for observation.  Tom entered the room and saw sweat beaded on Margaret’s forehead.  When Tom saw her tired smile he wished that he could have gotten here sooner.”

“Hi, honey.  Sorry I’m so late getting in.  How’re you doing?”

“Fine, Tom, just fine.  You can take that sorrowful look off your face.  I knew you couldn’t help being late.  Did you get any sleep at all this week?  I’m worried about you Tom.  Those bags under your eyes haven’t gone away in two weeks.”

Tom saw Margaret grimace with the next contraction.

“Could you get me some water.  The doctor says that everything looks all right.  I’m at 5 centimeters.”

“Here’s your water, honey.  I’ve been thinking about the babies name, Margaret.  If it’s a boy, what do you think of the name Leonard?  Art loved Leo Tolstoy. His favorite book was War and Peace.  I’d really like to do this for him if it’s a boy.”

“Leonard’s a beautiful name, Tom.”  Margaret began to groan and crushed Tom’s hand.

“I think this is it Tom, could you go get the nurse?”

Leonard Mahoney was born Friday November 19.  He weighed 8 pounds 7 ounces.  His hair was an extremely fine shade of red.  It was a clear crisp winter day.  The United States economy was stronger than it had ever been.  Americans were feeling the strength of their nation.  Everyone was hopeful towards the future.  Dwight D. Eisenhower is president of the United States.

Chapter 12.5 - Treason

TREASON

“...when they say don’t treat them like gentlemen. While we do, I might say that if we did not, I would not cry for them.  Treasoners are not gentlemen, my good friends.  They don’t understand being treated like gentlemen.”

Joseph McCarthy

Cold winds are blowing across the Los Alamos cemetery nestled between two mesas beneath Ponderosa Pine.  Tom pulled the hood of the army issue jacket further over his head and tightened the neck cinch.  Gusts of snow are blowing across the tombstone that reads:

God bless this man

Whose kindness was as pure as driven snow

Arthur Oswold Emerson

Aug 1, 1865 to Nov 10, 1954

“Art, you balanced my cynicism with hope.  I keep remembering the car accident.  Margaret hasn’t cried since.  Why did you have to leave me?  I’m afraid without you.”

Tom walked in ankle deep snow through the woods towards his house.  The shadows heard his sobbing as moonlight traced the tear drops from his beard into the wind and onto the snow.  He remembered what Art said to him just before he died.

“Remember Tom, we are good people in this country.  We care about our world, our children, our old.  We, as a nation, have always striven for a better place in which to live.  We have always extended our good fortune to others in order to make their lives better.  Have faith in us, Tom.  You dwell too much on the small mistakes and too little on the great victories.”

Tom paused for a moment deep in the woods.  It was dark under the snow laden branches.  He looked back down the path he had just walked.  His footsteps were gone.  It was as if he had never been.

From deep within the forest Tom could make out a small light coming from their living room window.  The light flickered and died down.  His future lay in the direction of that fire.  Tom trudged up the hill to the backyard gate and entered the living room through the back door as quietly as he could.  Tom wrestled to undo the frozen hood cinch of his jacket and hung it at the door.  Tom wondered why the fire was so cold when he sat down in the rocking chair.  He heard the frozen tears from his beard land on the oak floor as he smoked Art’s favorite pipe. Margaret turned the radio on in the kitchen.

“Today, the supreme court upheld the statutes passed by Congress outlawing the Communist party...”

Margaret waddled into the living room surprised to see her husband bent over his knees sobbing out of control.  She dropped to her knees and wrapped him in the arms of the only love he had ever known.

“Tom, your friend isn’t dead forever.  Our child will soon be born.  Maybe Art died to let our child come into the world.  Please, honey, don’t hurt so.”

Chapter 12.8 - I Have a Dream

"I have a dream, that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin, but by the content of their character.”

Martin Luther King Jr.

    Len had no way of knowing that he was an exceptional child.  At eleven months he merrily wandered around the house in front of amazed neighbors saying, ”Hi, what your name is?”

    Len couldn’t understand the reaction his parents had when he drummed out the rhythm from something he had heard on the radio.

    “Tom, do you think we should look into some special school for Len?”

    “No.  His best chance in life is to grow up normal without any pressures and responsibilities.”

    Len loved to explore the backyard.  At two years old he was allowed all the way down to the beginning of the path into the forest.  There were rocks with crevices he could hide in, small caves, a stream which froze in the winter, and best of all a family of squirrels.  Armed with some string and wire Len would walk down to the edge of the forest and make things.  All kinds of things.  He especially liked the pond he had made for the squirrels.  It was made from a tricycle wheel, some irrigation tubing, pieces of bark, and a rubber dish.  The bicycle was suspended over the water with pieces of bark wired to the spokes.  A piece of conduit his father had left over from making his work shop was used as the tricycle wheel shaft.  Len had mounted the wheel into two rocks.  He had hammered out indentations in the limestone to ensure a good fit.  The irrigation tubing was held directly in front of the paddle wheel with some rocks.  The end was cut at an angle.  The tubing led over the bank of the stream and into a dug out pond with the rubber dish in the middle.  The dish had holes in it.  Len had dug up some of the plants near the stream and replanted them near the pond.  From the pond edge to the rubber dish was a flat stick.  Len placed food for the squirrels all around the pond.  Almost any day you could find him out by the pond in the shade watching the squirrels play around the pond.

    Len started piano and math lessons when he was two and a half.  Margaret convinced Tom that Len deserved the opportunity to express his genius in ways other than outdoor engineering.  Every weekday from 1:30 p.m. until 3:30 he would sit with Mr. Curuthers and learn piano, astronomy, math, and physics.  Mr. Curuthers was an expert in child prodigies.  He himself had been one and was now working at Los Alamos as one of the most notable physicists around.  Much to Mrs. Mahoney’s chagrin all but the piano lessons were taught and learned out by the pond.

    Len loved Mr. Curuthers.  Everything that he asked Len to do always seemed to have an outcome that benefited Len.

    “What say we build you a star observation platform, Len.”

    And so it would start.

    “I’d like you to get this large rock on top of this larger rock.”

    “I can’t do it.  Rock is to big for Len.”

    “I know better than that.  I’ll show you an example of something that might work and then you get that rock where I asked.”

    Mr. Curuthers would push a small rock through the dirt and lift it with a smaller twig.  The twig would snap.  He would then find a piece of wood with a flat edge and use a twig the same size and push the rock up the wood without breaking the twig.  Len would always see the analogy and utilize many different examples of what Mr. Curuthers showed him.  After every successful implementation of a physics concept Mr. Curuthers would sketch a diagram in the dirt of what had been done using pictures and symbology.  He would patiently explain how each piece of the diagram represented something that Len had just done.  He would then write down the formula for the diagram.  Harry Curuthers took pleasure in tying the world together for Len.  Harry developed the personal history of every famous scientist that he introduced.  He wanted Len to understand the principles of cause and effect.  He described the transportation, the clothing, the animals, the flora, and the discoverers parents.

    After Mr. Curuthers left, Len would sit down in his favorite spot and watch the light change through the branches of the trees. He would listen to the stream tell him a story about the squirrels.  Sometimes, the wind would teach him a new song to play on the piano.

    On Len’s third birthday he was sitting out by the pond watching two older boys playing further down in the forest. He learned the difference between himself and other children.  They could have fun with wild abandonment and not be concerned with the consequences of their actions.  He could not.  Not because he couldn’t do what they were doing, but because he wouldn’t.  Every action created another action, on and on forever.  To him, wild abandonment was a dream left behind at two and a half.  No one would ever know that they had stolen his childhood by educating him too early with music and physics.  Who could have thought that physics was philosophy?  He would have.  But then, he was different.

Chapter 13 - Neighbors

“I get by with a little help from my friends.”

John Lennon and Paul McCartney

It was April when the Cranstens moved in next door to the Mahoneys. The big Allied moving van drove up early in the morning. Two big fellows got out of the truck and started to unload. Len was really excited. He sat out front watching the moving guys carry box after box into the house. Around 10:00 a wood paneled station wagon pulled up and a family of four got out. This was the moment Len had been waiting for. The little boy looked about the same size as Len. Len waved and the little boy waved back.

After lunch Len asked his mom if he could play with the new boy instead of working with Mr. Curuthers. Margaret said it was OK and Len was out the door like a shot.

He ran next door to where the little boy was playing outside in the front yard.

The little boy looked up as Len ran up. A huge smile lit up his face and he said,”Hi.” A woman wearing saddle shoes, a plaid skirt, and a white button shirt came outside. She said,”Hi, my name is Ruth. This is Jack.  We’re your new next door neighbors. What’s your name?”

Len said, “My name is Leanord Mahoney. Can Jack come and play?”

Ruth looked at Len for a long time. She had never heard a three year old speak so well. She thought that perhaps he was really small for his age.

“Where will you be playing?

“I’ve made a small pond for a family of squirrels behind our house. I thought we could go there and play.”

“Why don’t I walk over there with you and meet your mom.”

Ruth knocked on the Mahoney’s door with one child holding each hand.  Margaret got up from reading and waddled over to the door wondering if the new neighbors were having some problem with the Denver Steel apartment already.  She opened the door holding her pregnant belly with her left hand and pulling the door open with her right.  She immediately pushed open the screen door to see a woman staring at her belly holding the had of what must be her son who was holding Len's hand.

“Hi, I’m your new neighbor, Ruth. Ruth Cransten. Len was pretty anxious to play with Jack. If you don’t mind me asking, how old is Len?”

“I get that question all the time. He’s three and a half going on nineteen. He’s an exceptionally gifted child. I can’t tell you how happy I am that we finally have some neighbors with a boy about the same age as Len. I’m sorry, I’ve been standing here in the doorway without inviting you in. Come in. We can have some coffee and we can get acquainted. Oh yeah, I’m Margaret Mahoney.”

Margaret walked Ruth back to the back door and showed her where the kids would be playing.

“What a beautiful back yard. I really like gardens.”

Ruth got a little nervous and said, “They won’t go outside the chain link fence will they?”

“Yes they will, but only down to that large rock you see. Don’t worry about a thing, Len is really good that way. He won’t do anything that might get them hurt and he won’t let Jack do anything either.”

Len opened the door and said, “Nice meeting you Mrs. Cransten. Come on Jack, wait till you see this.”

Jack smiled at his mom and followed Len out the door.

Chapter 14 - Discovery

“The young men of this land are not, as they are often called, a ‘lost’ race—they are a race that never yet has been discovered. And the whole secret, power, and knowledge of their own discovery is locked within them—they know it, feel it, have the whole thing in them—and they cannot utter it.”

Thomas Wolfe

 Jack walked out to the pond behind the fence with a grin from ear to ear.

 “Come on Jack,” Len yelled as he held open the gate.

 As far as Jack was concerned he had just arrived in Oz. He ran through the gate and jumped on top of a rock. Jack looked around surveying his new found domain. Len shut the gate and looked over at Jack. A big smile crossed his face and he ran and jumped on the rock with Jack. They both started turning around and around on top of the rock. Finally, they stood face to face smiling. Len and Jack both knew, from that point on, they would be friends.

 Margaret and Ruth looked out at the two kids and Margaret said, “I think we are going to be very good neighbors. Would you like some coffee?”