Chapter 1: Survival of the Fittest

The guest speaker looked at the class full of children. In his hand was a large leather book that looked ancient. Holding the book face-forward so the children could see the faded gold writing, He moved his finger gingerly across the words; The Journals of Jonathan Stone. Clearing his throat the man turned the book around, saying: "I want you all to hold your questions until I'm done. Understood?"

The children nodded in anticipation. The speaker's lesson assignment today was the origin of the Sanctuary where they lived, and how it came to be. Thinking to himself, "Thank God it's only the first chapter." The inside front cover read: This journal I write now is not for me, or the ones who are with me; rather it is for the ones who will follow. My hope is that in some small way, it can explain the trials that are happening now in the world we live in. I pray that someone will be around to read this. If not, at least we tried. God speed!

Carefully turning to the first page, the speaker started to read: Today, after returning from my morning run, my wife met me on the porch. "Have you heard the news this morning John?" she asked. Shaking my head I told her, "No." Her eyes were filling with tears as she handed me the newspaper. "ARMAGEDDON APPROACHES!!!" the headlines blared with their two-inch high words.

Going into the house, I sat down at the kitchen table while Angie made breakfast.

I began reading the article; not realizing it would be the first of thousands in the next few months. I will not bother writing the entire article, since I have many duties to get done today. Basically here's what it said: A meteor is heading towards earth. The scientist's of the modern world had predicted it would hit earth in two years, eleven months, and fourteen days.

Putting down the paper I called a friend of mine still at the Pentagon. "Frank, is this for real?" I asked. I have known Frank Summers for thirty-seven years, and had pulled his butt out of the fire more than a few times. "John, I'm sorry to say that it is, blast it all!" Frank's voice over the phone sounded ragged and worn.

"What's the situation room planning?" I asked, knowing that if the news had just found out than the President and his Chief Brass have known for a while.

"They're refitting some of the long range Screamers, to blow it to pieces in space." Frank replied. He didn't sound convinced of the plan. "What are the percentages Frank?" I inquired. "The brass, along with the eggheads, think its eighty-five percent give or take a few." Frank replied.

Frank and I had gone through the kind of blood baths that bind men together forever. Knowing this, he asked, "So, what's our plan John?" Thinking for a second I finally answered. "Get as many of the Blackhawk teams together as you can and call me in a week."

For the next week, on every television, news teams brought in their own meteorological experts to estimate the devastation from a meteor hitting the earth. The popular estimates were that if the meteor hit the oceans there would be tsunami waves towering over a thousand feet high and traveling at 2,500 mph. The waves would travel up to 1000 miles inland. If it hit land there would be a dust cloud over the entire planet for 2 years, resulting in another ice age for at least a year.

The ozone layer would be depleted, letting in enormous amounts of radiation from the sun. It would take seventy years for the ozone layer to repair itself. The polar icecaps would melt creating vast flooding and new inland seas.

Most of the worldwide population would die from either the extreme heat or by the intense radiation that developed after the ozone layer was gone. Mutant strains in both man and animals would begin to show up all across the world. But, some of life would survive, and it would be every man for himself.

In a cabin just outside of the town of Edwards, Colorado, fifty men were in the small living room, listening to Retired Captain John Stone lay out the situation. "You men know what's coming. I've decided to prepare for the worst." The men nodded knowing the government would only try to save the heads of state and other such people, leaving the rest of mankind to fend for themselves.

"Last year I was elk hunting not far from here in Eagle Nest wilderness." I told them. Looking at Frank beside me, I saw the look of astonishment flood across his face. "The caves!" he exclaimed. I nodded. The other men were perplexed at what Frank was so excited about. "Captain sir?" Bob Haskell interjected. "What's this about a cave?"

Thinking about the trip last year I explained how I was tracking a wounded elk I had shot. Frank and I followed it for two days over the mountains. It finally just up, and disappeared without a trace. We were up against a mountain about one hundred feet on a flat mesa outcrop. Frank spotted the pine trees growing against the side of the mesa and followed the blood trail. It turned out that the trees and brush were covering a massive cave opening, and the blood trail went inside.

We found the elk dead and explored a little bit. "This place is great!" Frank had said. And he was right. Since we were so far from our home camp we spent the night in the cave, and left the following morning with the carcass.

I kept the men at the cabin for three days, working out the details and assigning them each different missions. The last order I gave them was; "You're not to tell anyone, and I mean anyone including your families." A few didn't understand so Frank explained. "A lot of you have children right?" The men nodded. "Can you imagine what will happen if any of this leaks out?"

Understanding showed on their faces. Standing beside Frank I assured them. "In one month everyone meets in Vail. All they need to know is that Vail is a ski resort area that the old team is having a reunion at for two weeks."

I worked as a freelance engineer for the Navy since I retired, designing a new engine that is based on using alcohol instead of standard fuel. Even though my new engine is ninety percent cleaner, with no significant loss of power, the four Blackhawk helicopters installed with the new design were sitting in a hanger.

Three days after the meeting in the cabin, while getting ready for bed Angie suggested, "John, if the military will not buy your design why not sell it to someone else, like a automotive company?" I almost kicked myself for being so stupid, here we were trying to scrape together every nickel and dime for supplies and our salvation was sitting on top of my desk!

I made a call to General Thompson the next day letting him know my plans to sell my design. "What!" He screeched through the headset. "Now see here John, we have the first bid on the design and you know it." Angie must have been looking at the contract in my office because she bushwhacked the general disclosing.

"General, I looking at the contract in my hands, paragraph two section one. It states you do have first rights on bidding for the design." The General didn't know who he was dealing with. When Angie is fired up, lookout for the storm and kiss your ass goodbye!

Stretching the phone cord in the kitchen to its limits I could see Angie at my desk smiling. "Oh general, you didn't let me finish." A grumble came from the other end of the phone. "Go ahead." Angie responded. "It states that upon receiving notice of sale, the Navy has one week to bid. The designer that's John; can refuse your bid or place it on the open market." Angie winked at me across the rooms. "So general either put up a bid, or shut the hell up!" She said is a sweet but deadly voice. A very shocked general realized he was facing a superior negotiator, and gave in. "Yes ma'am let me see what I can do" and hung up.

A week later General Thompson called me saying. "Your wife is tough, we could use her up here. The Pentagon has agreed to your proposal." My heart was racing like a jackhammer. "All of it?" I demanded, trying to sound calm. Inside I was fighting the urge to yell.

A sigh came over the line. "Yes all of it; two hundred and fifty million dollars, plus the four Blackhawks and spare engines and the alcohol production platform". Then he added, "I still don't know why you want that crap. It's not worth anything since it only works with that damn corn you had designed for it."

"Thanks again General." I said, knowing I could now at least have a chance to save my loved ones and our future.

I stood on the mesa outside the cave entrance looking at the first Blackhawk chopper coming out of the sun in the distance. "They're here!" I yelled to Frank. Checking the rough helicopter pad we had been working on for the last three days, thinking, "It will have to do for now." With satisfaction I looked at Frank and Steve coming out of the cave.

They were as filthy as I was, covered almost head to toe in dirt and dried sweat. The clearing of the pad was tough work for three men; cutting down thirty and sometimes forty-foot pine trees, and removing the stumps was tough on even a young man. "I'm not a youngster anymore and neither is Frank." I thought to myself.

Jackson landed the chopper with expertise developed after twenty years of flying navy rescue. Jackson once told me, "John, I've landed on so many moving carriers that regular ground feels kind of strange." He was without a doubt the best chopper pilot I've ever known.

I watched as Frank's wife, Sue climbed out followed by my sweet Angie. "John!" She cried running up to me. I grabbed her around the waist and picked her up, Angie didn't seem to mind that I hadn't taken a bath in two days or that I was covered in grime. She scrutinized me saying, "You look terrible! How's your heart?" Her perception of my physical health had always been extraordinary. "I'm a little worn down, I think Frank and I bit off more than we should have." I answered kissing her on the cheek. With a twinkle in her eye Angie quipped. "Well now that I'm here at least you'll have real food and a warm bed at night." She was right.

Once everyone had arrived and were inside the main cave, I explained our plans. The families of the men showed every emotion from bewilderment to enthusiasm at what lay ahead. Frank told them the reason for the ruse in getting all of them there and then explained why this particular cave.

He was used to dealing with the military so he asked for silence until he was done giving his report on our new home. Everyone acknowledged the reasoning so Frank proceeded to inform the group about the cave and our plans.

The cave was almost at the top of Mt. Powell in the middle of Eagle Nest Wilderness in Colorado. The mountain rose over fourteen thousand feet above sea level. It was miles from any sea, which made it perfect to avoid any flooding. The cave ceiling was two hundred feet high with an opening at least five hundred feet in diameter at the top allowing plenty of light and sunshine inside.

The main cave was at least fifty acres inside. With large tunnels branching out to four smaller caves, these caves were each five to ten acres inside as well.

The smallest cave was deep into the mountain and stayed well below freezing in one corner. After doing some exploring we found a small entrance going even deeper down. A man could hardly fit so I called for Angie and sent her in tied off to a repelling rope.

I gave her a combat radio and prayed she would be all right. Fifteen minutes later a shout came over the radio. "John! You're not going to believe this! Pull me up now it's too slippery for me to climb out by myself."

Worried, I grabbed the rope as more men helped and within minutes Angie came staggering out with a chunk of ice in her dirty but cute little hands. "I found us the freezer to beat anything you can buy at the Sam's club!" she laughed.