Phillip Beardsley was the last to enter. His face twisted into an ugly sneer as he watched the others dart across the street and into the bomb-blasted structure to follow the youth and his mother. He didn't really want to be 'led' anywhere, nonetheless, when a mortar struck a nearby structure, terror overcame him.
In a true panic, Phillip ran shrieking to the entryway and flung himself through the opening. He landed face down and out of sight from anyone else left on the street. It wasn't the entrance he had wanted to make; however, in his mind, he rewrote the scene. He saw himself confidently leading the way and smiling at those who followed him. He imagined that they looked up to him and he was their protector and savior. He sniggered about the conjured image and the sensation of pride he felt from imaging it.
Phillip had always seen himself as a misunderstood leader, a groundbreaker who never got any breaks. In his mind, he was sure he had the qualities required of leadership and it irked him that he wasn't the one leading the way now. Nevertheless, he considered that, if he survived this terrible night, an opportunity would present itself for him to step up and take charge. For now, he would follow and bide his time until such a moment presented itself… anything to get off the dangerous streets and to safety.
In the meantime, Salazar found the basement. His calm voice inspired even more confidence in those who surreptitiously trailed behind him and Miki. "It looks exactly the way Grandmother described it," he confided to his mother.
"You sound surprised. As a detective, she put a lot of stock in the details," Miki replied.
"I know," he admitted, "she would have said 'the devil is in the details.'"
Miki softly laughed at the reminder.
From the light chit-chat, Salazar recognized that his mother was back. The adrenaline rush from their struggle with the two assailants had apparently been good for her. The battle and their victory had pushed the fear and worry aside while pulling her out of the fugue and despair that had consumed her earlier.
However, when the bombs began to fall in earnest, Salazar realized the basement wasn't safe enough. The ceiling and walls shook and crumbled as the number of mortar blasts in Fallhaven grew in frequency and intensity. He knew they would have to venture further down and into the bowels of the undercity to find real shelter from the ongoing assault.
By the time the sirens finally began to wail at six-thirty, the shelling of Fallhaven had begun in earnest. The bombers moved back and forth, systematically and purposefully, the same as they had done in Summerhaven and then Springhaven.
They dropped high explosives on any and all government and municipal buildings. Every police station and military compound was obliterated even as men and women poured out of them and into the streets in an effort to escape.
There was no escape.
In was an effort to eliminate anyone with combat training, those skilled men and women were cut down by shrapnel which effectively destroyed August City's remaining warriors.
Warehouses and shipyards, trains and bus stations, and any commercial sites or industrial buildings were also blasted to dust. Universities, schools, and hospitals were wiped out. Cell towers and television stations were also eradicated, severing ties to other cities around the United Sectors and the rest of the world. Those who had tried to call their relatives to ascertain whether this was an isolated event never got through to them because their phones had been jammed. Now, they would never know.
Those in Fallhaven finally understood why the red and black clouds had seemed far away. The planes had made many passes to ensure that primary industry in Summerhaven was completely destroyed before they moved on to Springhaven and now to Fallhaven.
Even the two specialized and secret bunkers where diligent scientists had painstakingly worked to perfect a new biological weapon were blown apart. These new poisons were designed to target specific DNA markers in any survivors.
Although the weapon had not been fully tested, those who had commissioned it didn't really care about that. The initial reports were good enough for them – When inhaled, along with a fit of coughing and flu-like symptoms, the powerful substance chose random genetic codes in each person exposed. That the toxin had immediate consequences was even better.
And it did have immediate results.
The research bunker was filled with human test subjects collected from Winterhaven who had been exposed to the fumes. The results had documented that some died. Some grew paranoid. Some went mad and then transformed into ape-like creatures. Several, however, had looked at their captors with suspicion and knowing. There was accusation in their eyes. That particular reaction was the one that scared the scientists most of all. It was as if the test subjects had intuited everything and the blame for what they had suffered was clearly in their eyes.
The toxin was designed to attack the most vulnerable genomes. Anyone with a propensity for schizophrenia or mental disorders would go insane. Anyone with a family history of cancer, liver or heart disease would suddenly fall ill and die.
The intention was that the poison would enhance only negative and weak traits; however, the trials were inconclusive. Now, that the toxin was part of the air raid and set loose on the public at large, its scientific creators had hoped to evaluate its affects in closer detail. They had hoped to study the results of their invention on a wider scale.
However, when the rockets took off, they understood that they had been used and were expendable. Their facilities were no longer needed. They were no longer needed. Their entire covert project, along with the antidote, was wiped out in an instant along with all traces of everything else.
To the residents of August City, it was unclear if they were the only location bombed. It was undecided who had attacked them. Having many enemies, it was anyone's guess as to who had the most to gain by such destruction. The attack could have come from anyone of a half-dozen countries. Were they attacked by Russian? Or was it China or Korea? Was it an Iran or a Middle-Eastern Terrorist group? Could it have been North Korea?
No one knew for sure and it soon became apparent that the attack could have come from a local source.
Those with military training could see that August City was not targeted by guided missiles or launched rockets from faraway places. There were no nuclear launches either. It was a definite air raid where they were bombed by visible planes. The residents feared it was some domestic terrorist group – it had happened before or so they had been told, but that was always the 'go-to' assumption.
The very word 'terrorists' was designed to terrorize the public while, more often than not, it was later determined that most severe attacks were political ploys or plays for more power among those who already ran everything.
In August City, no one knew anything for sure.
The unknown can be terribly frightening and intimidating.
That unknown was as much a part of the planned assault as the bombs. When one is in the dark and can't see their attacker, it makes the confrontation even more terrifying.
Now, 'not knowing' struck fear in the hearts and minds of August City's citizens.
Their consciousness finally asked the hard questions they had always been afraid to ask:
Who would do such a thing?
Why had they done it?
What was their end game?
Nothing was definite except the chilling, pitiful moans and cries for help from the wounded and dying who were trapped and buried under rubble and debris as a major portion of the city crumbled and burned around them. There was that along with the fear that gripped each of those who had ventured outdoors to watch.