Russian Doomsday Read online

  POSEIDON

  Russian Doomsday

  Book One

  S.A. Ison

  POSEIDON Russian Doomsday

  Copyright © 2018 by S.A. Ison All rights reserved.

  Cover design by Elizabeth Mackey

  Book edited by Laurel C. Kriegler of Kriegler Editing Services

  All rights reserved. Except as under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a data base or retrieval system, without prior written permission of S.A. Ison

  Scripture quotations are from the ESV® Bible (The Holy Bible, English Standard Version®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the production of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons – living or dead- is entirely coincidental.

  OTHER BOOKS BY S.A. ISON

  BLACK SOUL RISING

  INOCULATION ZERO WELCOME TO THE STONE AGE

  BOOK ONE

  INOCULATION ZERO WELCOME TO THE AGE OF WAR

  BOOK TWO

  EMP ANTEDILUVIAN PURGE

  BOOK ONE

  EMP ANTEDILUVIAN FEAR

  BOOK TWO

  EMP PRIMEVAL

  FUTURE RELEASES

  POSEIDON RUBBLE AND ASH

  BOOK TWO

  EMP ANTEDILUVIAN COURAGE

  BOOK THREE

  SHATTERED MIND

  THE HIVE

  SMOKEHOUSE SMILES

  Other books by S.A. Ison under the name: Stefany White

  Dragon’s Fortune

  Alaskan Heat

  Future Releases

  The Butler Did it

  Little White Lies

  The Seeding

  ACKNOWLEDGMENT

  I would like to give a special thanks to Dr. Peter Vincent Pry, Executive Director of the EMP Taskforce on National and Homeland Security. Dr. Pry has posted articles and he has written a comprehensive book, POSEIDON: Russia’s New Doomsday Machine. His book brings to light a weapon, a torpedo codenamed POSEIDON, an Artificial Intelligence nuclear weapon to be developed by Russia. He has so graciously allowed me to use some of the information from his book to craft my story. It was from his book that I was inspired to write this fictional book about the Russian’s AI doomsday weapon.

  Dr. Pry is one of the many dedicated people who work to protect our country. He ensures that we are well informed about what goes on in our world. My thanks to Dr. Peter Pry and to the men and women of the US military.

  Go Navy

  ♥

  CHAPTER ONE

  St. Marys, GA, 10 July 2018

  Pike Addison, a homegrown Georgia boy, twirled around in his chair, hands clasped on top of his dark head as he chewed on a straw. His brain was hurting, trying to figure out how to market several large sections of commercial land. He needed slogans and desirable catchphrases. None of which were coming to mind. As the low man on the totem pole at the Beal Real Estate Agency, he got the crap jobs.

  The properties were zoned for commercial use and, as far as he was concerned, there were very few people or conglomerations in the market for commercial land except developers. It wasn’t as if developers didn’t know where to go to buy land, so why did they have to advertise it? He shook his head, and his brain hurt even worse. He was pretty sure that if there was a fork around, he’d stab himself with it.

  It was a tedious task, mind-numbing in fact, and he’d not come up with anything in the last hour. He could only goof around on his computer so much until someone noticed. Yet the concepts he’d hoped for weren’t coming. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the task at hand or his overall dissatisfaction with his job and his life in general. It was certainly a toss-up.

  He’d not imagined his life going in this direction. He couldn’t even remember what he’d wanted to do when he graduated high school, yet here he was, years later, in a job he didn’t like. He tried to remember why he’d even gotten into this line of work. It escaped him completely.

  He closed his pale blue eyes, trying to drag up something, anything. He didn’t want to just sit here doing nothing. But the harder he thought, the more he failed. It was as if this job was sucking the imagination and life out of him. How could these people do this day in and day out? There was no adventure, only contracts and more contracts, negotiations, and wondering if a client was going to back out at the last second.

  “What the hell, Pike, you in La La Land?” Johnny Rush asked, walking over to Pike’s desk. Johnny came up behind and leaned over the desk to look at Pike’s computer. Johnny had been a big football star in high school, and had a big voice and big personality. Loud and pushy, he was perfect for the job. His clients loved him and were in awe of him.

  “No, I am just drawing a blank for this stupid marketing land thingy. The land is out there. Why can’t I just say, ‘Here it is, folks, plenty of land to do shit on?’ Besides, only developers want this kind of land. Regular people don’t buy this kind of property unless they want it for an investment. There aren’t many of those kinds of people,” Pike said, still twirling. Johnny’s blunt face came in and out of view as he spun around.

  Johnny wore his hair in a 1950s-style crewcut. The men loved him; he made them remember when times were simpler, the old days. Pike’s own hair was on the long side and kept in a neat ponytail. Johnny eyed him, scratching his own scalp.

  “He’s just mad ’cause he doesn’t have many listings,” Beverly Norman said, the side of her cheek filled with something and crumbs sticking to her bright fuchsia lipstick. She had on neon blue eyeshadow that was not very becoming, especially for a woman her age: forty-two, to be exact.

  She also had this annoying habit of usually being right. Pike shot her a dirty look. He knew she was right, and didn’t like it one bit. But she was Miss Perfect and had a ton of listings.

  He’d been calling her Miss Knowitall under his breath for a couple years now and had almost said it to her face once. She’d have probably clobbered him. She let everyone know she had a Bachelor’s Degree in Business Administration and that was why she got the big bucks.

  It wouldn’t be so bad, and it wouldn’t bother him so much, but she found such delight in reminding him that he sucked as a realtor. He’d not found his passion in life yet and felt he was just treading water until something better came along. Only nothing better ever came along.

  “Shut up, Bev. This is a lot of responsibility,” Pike shot back at her, his dark brows drawing together, his mouth thinning to a straight line. He didn’t like being reminded how much he didn’t like his job and how much he really sucked at it.

  She laughed, her double chin jiggling like jello. “Rightttttttt.”

  Pike turned back to his computer with a huff. He typed in a few keystrokes, went to his Facebook page and scrolled around. He’d found some clients and advertised properties on there. Some of his contacts had panned out great, but more often than not they were a total bust. He currently had a whole twelve listings. They were all low-priced crappy run-down houses in even crappier neighborhoods. Homes no one wanted. Which was why he was stuck trying to do some kind of marketing ad for this stupid commercial land crap. He’d rather be outside doing something, anything, but he was stuck doing this.

  In the last few months he’d started getting into the survival game, reading books and blogs about living off grid. Now that interested him a lot. Maybe, if he could do something along those lines, he’d be more satisfied. Here, he just felt it was a waste of his time.

  An old school friend of his,
Margo Tibbs who now lived in Maryville, MO, had been online a short time ago, he noticed. They’d gone to high school in St. Marys, GA. She’d been Margo Plover then, and ahead of him by two grades. They’d hung out with all the geeks at lunch so the jocks wouldn’t pound on them; safety in numbers. He’d had a crush on her for as long as he could remember.

  She had broken his heart when she’d gone off and married Bobby Tibbs, a cross-country truck driver, right out of high school. Margo had thought it would be a gas, driving all over the states and living out of a truck like vagabonds or gypsies.

  Pike had always promised to go and visit her, but he never had; he’d never worked up the nerve. He knew at heart he was a coward. He was pretty sure she was out of his league. If he were to try, then the fantasy would be over, along with their friendship. That their friendship far more important to him than his pipedreams of romance.

  He laughed at the cartoons she’d sent him; old Far Side ones. They suited their sense of humor to a tee. They tended to trade cute videos and frivolous things.

  He scrolled down and opened an article she had shared with him. You need to read this! she wrote. It was an article by a Dr. John James Rhy, the Executive Director of the EMP Task Force on National and Homeland Security. The article was talking about an A.I. weapon Russia had developed called POSEIDON. Apparently, Russia wasn’t satisfied with the status quo. Bigger and better destruction. He scrubbed his hands over his eyes and continued to read.

  According to the article, Russia had been developing a new nuclear weapon, and the fact that it had artificial intelligence capability was a significant factor; it upped the ante on wholesale annihilation. This meant that it could be launched from different platforms and Russian assets need not be anywhere close. It could be deployed at a greater distance, the information having been simply pre-programed into the weapon.

  It was a stealthier weapon than any before, so small as to be nearly undetectable. The Russian scientists were calling POSEIDON their new doomsday machine. The hair rose on Pike’s arm and warning bells began to ring quietly in the back of his head. He went on to read that Russia had plans to use this weapon against the United Sates.

  The big plan was to detonate the weapon, about the size of a torpedo, off the Eastern Seaboard. It would be programed to explode underwater with a 100-megaton yield, resulting in a massive radioactive tsunami that would wash over the entire East Coast.

  Why does Russia hate us so much? he wondered, a sick feeling growing in his gut. Why was it that damn near every country out there wanted to bomb the living hell out of the United States? He knew America pissed many countries off, but he knew other countries pissed the U.S. off as well. What was it that made these countries want to wreak havoc on millions of innocent people?

  Most Americans had little to no say in politics, though they were told otherwise. Many decisions were made without the complete knowledge of the American public. There were half-truths, fake news, misspoken utterances by politicians. Christ, most Americans were just as confused by their government as the rest of the world. Why did Russia want to destroy it so badly?

  POSEIDON was considered a stealth weapon because of its speed and size. It was more like a torpedo, but housed a nuclear reactor. It was considered a deterrent, not an actual bomb or weapon of mass destruction. Pike’s fingers flew over the keys as he quickly wrote back to Margo. His hands were shaking badly; he’d never been this disturbed by anything before.

  Where did you get this? Is it real? Send me any more information you have on it. Thanks.

  He looked around the office, saw Johnny at his computer, his broad shoulders hunched over his desk. Johnny must have gone to the barbers to freshen up his crewcut, because the back of his head was red. He must go there once a week to keep it blocked, Pike mused. Pike leaned over and called to him, in a low voice, “Johnny, you need to see this, dude.”

  His eyes darted over to Bev; he didn’t want her hearing this. She’d end up putting her nose into it and he didn’t want to hear what she had to say.

  “What? What is it?” Johnny said, rolling his chair over to Pike’s desk, rocking his body back and forth to gain momentum. He wore khaki trousers that were a little short in the legs, so a great deal of his ankles showed, along with his black socks. He always wore Dockers, and they were always khaki. He also wore variations of plaid button-down cotton shirts. He really looked like he was out of a 1950s fashion magazine.

  “A friend of mine sent me this article. It’s about a Russian high-yield nuclear weapon. It could be detonated off the East Coast and cause a nuclear tsunami,” Pike said, worry in his voice, his trembling hand indicating his screen. He saw it, clenched his shaking hand into a fist and put it in his lap.

  “Dude, are you serious? You frickin' called me over to see that crap? That’s fake news, dude. Don’t you know any better?” Johnny laughed, throwing his head back, his large teeth gleaming in the florescent lights of the office. He smacked Pike on the back, causing Pike to fall forward into his desk and computer. Pike didn’t know if he did that on purpose or if he really didn’t know his own strength.

  “What’s going on?” Beverly asked, her head turning on a swivel. She brushed crumbs off her blouse and dabbed at her mouth delicately with a paper napkin. One of her fake eyelashes had come loose and was hanging half off her eyelid; it was very distracting every time she blinked.

  Pike groaned internally. He really didn’t want her two cents on this. He tried not to roll his eyes, as it always made her mad. She gave him filthy looks when he said something she didn’t agree with. He figured she didn’t believe in freedom of speech or radical thinking. He shot Johnny a dirty look, his azure eyes narrowing.

  “Pike is scared we’re going to be blown off the map with some stupid torpedo. He says it’s going to make a tidal wave and wipe us all out.” Johnny laughed, his big horsey teeth reminding Pike of a jackass laughing or braying.

  “What? How?” Beverly asked, wheeling herself over, her body rocking violently back and forth while her heels clicked loudly on the tile floor. She rarely walked: she had ankles the size of hams. Johnny called them kanklesauruses. She was always out of earshot, though. Pike didn’t think Johnny liked her any better than he did, but at times like this, they were buddy-buddy.

  “Look at his computer. He has this fake news bullshit up. It’s about something called POSEIDON, a Ruski doomsday weapon. It’s supposed to make a hundred-foot tidal wave and wipe us out. And then it’s supposed to radioactivate us.” Johnny brayed like the jackass he resembled, his face turning bright red and his body folding in on itself. He stomped his big foot and his pant leg nearly rode up to his knee.

  “Are you kidding me? That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. There’s no way in hell those asshole Russians are going to blow us up. We have way too many nuclear weapons. We could bury them before they even blinked their red Ruski eyes.” Beverly snorted knowingly, shaking her head like a bobble-head toy.

  “I think it’s real. This guy, Dr. Rhy and his colleague, Caroline Jenson say it is, and they work for homeland security,” Pike defended the article, his chest puffing out, his eyes narrowing and his mouth thinning out in a mulish slant.

  “Right, like I said, fake news, dude. The damn Russians probably posted this crap, you know, like propaganda. They post that kind of crap on Facebook all the time to stir up trouble, get people all scared and shit. Besides, it’s probably a budget scare,” Johnny said, his eyes darting to Beverly.

  “What’s that?” Beverly asked, sipping on her iced coffee held in one hand while she clasped a Krispy Kreme doughnut in the other; lemon. She had a blob of lemon filling on her blouse.

  Johnny leaned back in his I’m going to give it to you straight pose, propped one foot on his knee and folded both hands behind his head like this was something he had to get comfortable for. “It’s when the government starts a bunch of bullshit rhetoric in Congress or something to try and scare everyone. They throw all these statistics around, crow
about how it’s vital to national security, blah… blah… blah. That way, they get the money they want for all their pet projects and, also, it’s to make themselves out to be fat cats, you know, real important, like they’re looking out for Americans. You know, to make sure they have a job at the end of the fiscal year.” Johnny tapped his head with his blunt index finger as he winked knowingly, first to Beverly and then to Pike.

  “Yeah, I believe that more than Russia shooting torpedoes at us,” Beverly snorted. “Really Pike, are you that stupid? This is the exact reason why you only have a few listings. Now, if you were really smart, you’d have a butt-load like me and Johnny. You keep reading all that garbage and see where it gets you. You need to unplug from that trash and focus on your job, not all that fake news stuff.” Beverly grinned condescendingly, her bright red lips pursed with scorn.

  “You know she’s right, Pike. You always fall for this crap. Look at the books on your desk, dude. Prepper shit. EMP crap. You should be having books about economics, accounting, psychology, counseling. Those are the real deal, the tools of your trade, dude. Those should be on your desk, not this other shit. If you want to succeed in real estate, dude, you need to get your head in the game.” Johnny shook his head and rolled back to his desk, his large body rocking back and forth, the back of his head a brilliant scarlet.

  Beverly continued to look at Pike for a few moments longer, then shook her head in disgust, a knowing smile planted on her plump face. She took another bite of doughnut and harrumphed, blowing out crumbs.

  “What?” asked Pike, feeling the anger growing, and resentment. These people didn’t want to hear reality. He knew this wasn’t fake news.