The explosion made Mark jump in his chair even though he knew it was coming. He fancied the thump of the mortar shell cooking off made its way from the valley. All the screens in the trailer went white with static, the technicians turning to look at the director.

“Should we be here?” one technician asked in a weak voice.

Mark did not have the heart to tell the man it was already too late, the noise he heard was now a growing roar.

The shell ignited and threw the men from the platform in a mass of flesh torn from bodies. The piled shells added to the forced immediately, the combined explosion ripping the side of the building away to expose people and machinery tumbling from the epicenter.

The munitions waiting to be packed into boxes detonated and set off a chain reaction of all the explosives in the building. In the time it took to blink an eye, the entire building exploded in a massive fireball, pieces of machinery, bricks, glass, steel beams, and much more becoming shrapnel that flailed the surrounding area.

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One by one, like firecrackers in a chain, the rail carts detonated until the eruption reached the bunkers where only two of the steel doors were open. Both bunkers contained five-inch naval shells for destroyers plying the waters of the Pacific. In a convulsive heave, the bunkers rose skyward in a cloud of earth and unexploded shells.

The ATV shook and bounced to the explosions, but continued to speed through the valley on the way to safety. Brock did not look over his shoulder to watch the destruction. With every fiber of his body taut and fear pulling his mouth into a parody of a scream, he drove the ATV with the throttle clenched tight, the muscles of his back tightening from vulnerability.

Held in the confines of Brock’s arms, Paulie looked up and saw the clouds part in a massive maw illuminated by the strobe of the explosions and lightning. Wind burst out of the cloud and dove for the ground, trailing streamers of condensation.

The bridge flashed past to their right as the wind descended on the valley behind the two men and churned up a wave of dust that preceded the onslaught.

Cal watched Bob struggle into the wreckage of a train collapsed on its side. His son-in-law was heading for a light that peaked out of the twisted steel. An explosion closely followed by several more rocked the valley and Cal crawled behind Bob with no memory of diving into the wreck, only a primal fear of the roar that now drown out all other sounds.