"Give me Swedes, snuff and whiskey, and I'll build a railroad through hell."

In the fall of 1886, Minot was the end of the line for James Hill's Great Northern Railroad. Ahead of the workers, to the west of town, lay Gassman coulee...an eighteen hundred feet wide and one hundred feet deep gash in the earth carved by the forces of nature eons before. When construction came to a halt that fall, a tent city sprang up and within a few months the population of Minot increased to more than five thousand people. During the following spring, a trestle was erected that spanned the entire width of the coulee. It was constructed entirely of wood shipped in from the forests of Minnesota. In a few years all the iron rails would be laid which would carry Hill's trains across Montana, traversing the Continental Divide at Marias Pass, and finding the end of the line at Seattle Washington. Eleven years later, an F4 tornado estimated to be a mile and a half wide, roared up the coulee, slammed into the trestle, and left it a jumbled shambles of broken, splintered timbers.

He wasn't far past 76th street when he noticed the string of blinking red and yellow lights far to the south. He surmised that these lights must be near the air base which was about nine miles north of Minot. The wind had picked up...he could feel it rock the Flamingo at times. He could feel the temperature dropping and a black ominous looking thunderhead cloud was forming off to the south directly in his path. He made sure all the windows were rolled up tightly and slid the lever of the heater control to medium. In a few moments he could feel the warm air on his feet and legs. Storms had a way of forming quickly in this vast, flat land. Warm moist air from the Texas gulf colliding with frigid air roaring south down from the Canadian Rockies and sweeping across Saskatchewan created violent dramas that played across this grassy prairie stage. He had just come past a sign which read, "Minot 7mi." when the first drops splattered against the windshield . They weren't those soft misty drops like from an eastern Tennessee mountain rain but a malevolent hail, water hybrid hurled down from the heavens from some great celestial watering can...like bb's ricocheting off the safety glass. He hadn't gone another mile before the intermittent pattering became a verifiable Dakota deluge. The rain hitting the canvas top of the convertible made a deafening roar. He was thankful that the wipers worked and that Aristotle had kept good blades on them. He smiled thinking that he had been lax in the past with his own vehicles...letting the blades get so far gone that the metal frame engraved a visible arc across the windshield. He had set the wipers to the highest speed and turned the headlights on, but the rain poured from the heavens in such a downpour that it was difficult to view clearly the road ahead. He slowed to a modest speed and was able to make out the center line. "Yes sir," he mumbled to himself, " this is a big 'ol fat rain ". About two miles north of the airbase is where he met the first vehicles. He thought that he may have passed eight or ten Humvees with flashing blue and red lights. Then there were a number of military tractor trucks with flatbed trailers hauling heavy equipment, like dozers, cranes and backhoes. There were also numerous rigs pulling enclosed trailers which he guessed contained food, clothing and other relief supplies. There was a long line of school buses that had been painted military green. He could glimpse the silhouettes of the capped personnel inside from the lights that shown through the windows behind them. He saw that a ways ahead there appeared to be a roadblock in his southbound lane. A barricade had been set up across the road with flashing red and yellow lights. There was also a large portable diesel generator there that powered two large LED balloon lights. It was the kind that he had seen on road construction projects. As he got closer he could make out an armed sentry dressed in a standard hooded rain poncho and camouflage fatigues. He slowed as the sentry took a few steps forward with his arm raised indicating for him to stop. As the young sentry approached, he rolled the window down about half way. Rain poured off the hood brim of the young man's poncho.

"Hello sir...can I ask your name and where you're coming from today?"...he shouted above the din.

"My name is Van Petrenko and I just came from Antler this morning...I'm on my way to Charbonneau.

"Yes sir...if you'll just follow this drive into the base sir" ...he said pointing to the west... "you're going to come to a large metal canopy. Our personnel there will give you some instructions and show you where to park."

"Can you tell me what this is all about?...I was just on my way through Minot "...he asked puzzled.

" Yes sir, all vehicles leaving the restricted area are being detained for a short interview and then can be on their way sir ".

" Have there been many come through? "...he asked curiously.

" You're the only one sir"...he stated bluntly as he stepped back and directed him to the right with an outstretched arm.

He steered the Flamingo to the right and proceeded up the broad drive to the entrance of the base. It was roughly a quarter of a mile off the main road. He could see the illuminated entrance canopy up ahead. It was a large shallow pitched metal roof structure that was supported by large steel columns embedded into concrete piers. A large sign in bold letters read, "Only The Best Come North". There were three different lanes for vehicles to pass through. At each lane was a well lit sentry shack manned by an armed airman. An automatic barrier gate set just past the sentry shacks which was controlled by the guard. He pulled even with the sentry shack, came to a stop, and rolled the window down about half way. A young sentry dressed in camouflage fatigues was on the phone but acknowledged him with a nod of his head. When the call was finished he stepped out and approached the car.

"Hello sir, I've notified administration of your arrival. You're going to proceed ahead a short distance. Take the second street to the right. When you come to the first building on your left, park in one of the spaces in front of the building. There will be an airmen there to assist you inside. Thank you sir".

He nodded that he understood and was about to roll the window up when the young sentry turned on his heel and took a step back towards the car.

"And can I say sir...that is one fine looking car"...he said with a grin.

He mouthed a "thanks"...the gate went up and he pulled ahead back into the downpour. He turned right at the second street and saw that the building that the young airmen had directed him to was just a short distance ahead. As he got closer he saw that there were only two vehicles parked in the farthest spaces. He parked the Buick about midway down the line of parking spaces as from there it would be a short walk to the entrance of the building. He noticed that there was another poncho clad airmen who was standing in the lighted entryway of the building. On seeing him park, the burly airmen stepped out and briskly walked towards the car. As he stepped out of the car the airmen popped open a large black umbrella and held it over him to protect him from the unabated rainstorm.

"Hello sir"...he barked above the clash of thunder... "I'm Airmen Komarov....I'm here to assist you to see Colonel Steiger. If you'll just follow me sir"...as he extended his arm towards the entrance. It was only a few paces to the vestibule but in that short distance his lower legs became drenched. He could feel the cold water run down inside his borrowed boots to his sockless feet. Once inside the foyer the airmen carefully closed the umbrella, snapped the button of the retaining strap and removed the hood of the poncho from his head.

"Right this way sir"

The airmen pushed open another set of glass doors that led into a large open brightly lit office area. A young female airmen sitting at a reception desk glanced up and smiled at him as they walked forward without stopping. He felt self conscious dressed in his Liberty overalls and Lake Okeechobee baseball cap. On either side of the aisleway were six rows of work stations that were three or four deep. At each work station sat young airmen either looking attentively at their computer screens, conversing intently on their phone or were diligently typing on their keyboards. In the center of both groups was a large black Xerox copy machine and from the ceiling there were suspended a number of large display screens that appeared to be tuned to national news broadcasts. On one screen he recognized the solemn image of Norah O'Donnell. As he followed the airmen he was aware that with every step that he took there was a noticeable squishing sound from his saturated boots. "Clomp, squish, clomp, squish, clomp, squish"...as he followed the airmen down the polished concrete aisle.

At the end of the hallway they turned left and in a few steps came to a glass partition and double doors that led to a small office where a young red headed female airmen sat. On the glass partition next to the door there was a plaque which read in embossed letters, "Colonel Axle Steiger, USAF, Minot Air Force Base". As they entered, the airmen who was escorting him stated, "Airmen Komarov and Mr. Petrenko to see Colonel Steiger". The young woman behind the desk picked up her phone, pressed one of the black buttons, and in a moment spoke, "Airman Komarov and Mr. Petrenko to see you sir...yes sir"...and hung up the phone. "It will be just a moment gentlemen" ...she smiled. In a short time the door opened and a uniformed man stepped through. The airmen snapped to attention with a crisp salute. "That will be all airman...thankyou"...the man said returning his salute. The airmen turned on his heel pushed open one of the glass doors and strode back down the hallway.

"Mr. Petrenko, I'm Colonel Steiger"...he said extending his hand.

"Van Petrenko...nice to meet you".

"Please, come inside...I'd like to hear your story"...he smiled and motioned towards his office.

The office was spacious. There was a large polished mahogany desk that set at the far end. Behind the desk were full length glass panels that spanned the entire length of the wall. They looked out over the runways where B-52H Statofortress aircraft thundered into the sky. The sky was still dark outside and a south wind hurled a cold rain against the outside of the glass. Along the wall to the left there were glass doored cabinets with built in recessed lights. It contained neatly arranged books and binders, and at the end, a small kitchenette. To the right was a long cream colored sofa that faced an ornately trimmed gas fireplace installed against the wall. He could see orange and blue flames flickering from the imitation logs behind the glass panel. A stuffed ring necked pheasant perched warily on the mantle. Matching upholstered chairs set around a glass topped coffee table in front of the sofa. Above the fireplace on the wall hung a large flat screen tv. It appeared to be tuned to a news channel but the volume was muted. To the right of the fireplace behind one of the upholstered chairs was a wheeled serving cart which held an assortment of colorful liquor bottles and a fancy stainless steel ice bucket. To the left was a paneled door that he assumed led to a private wash room.

An elderly white haired gentleman rose from one of the upholstered chairs as they entered. He was neatly dressed in a white shirt, brown slacks and a brown cardigan sweater.

"Mr. Petrenko, I'd like you to meet Dr. Freedman...he's one our senior mental health specialists here at Minot. If you don't mind, I thought that he might like to hear of your experiences these last few weeks as well". The gentleman stepped forward and extended his hand. "Call me Sidney"...he said warmly.

" Can I get you anything to drink gentlemen?...coffee...a mixed drink"?

"I wouldn't mind having a bourbon and water...no ice"...the elderly gentleman said politely.

"Anything for you Mr. Petrenko"?

" Well, I'll have a vodka tonic...ice please".

As the colonel was fixing their drinks Mr. Freedman motioned for Van to take a seat on the couch while he took the upholstered chair that he had originally been sitting in.

"Here you are gentlemen"...and after fixing himself a drink he sat in one of the other cushioned chairs that was adjacent to the coffee table. They had each sampled their drink and had set the glasses on coasters that were lying on the table.

" Mr. Petrenko, were glad that you were willing to take some time to talk with us about what's happened to you these last few weeks. You're the first person who has come out from the restricted area since the event happened. We don't really have a clear understanding of exactly what happened...I'll explain to you later what seems to be the consensus among our leading scientists but we thought that maybe if you could relate to us your experiences we would have a better idea of what we're facing and it might help us in the direction of our relief efforts. Can you tell us a little bit about your experiences that day?...where you were...what you saw".

Van took another deep drink from the glass of vodka tonic and carefully placed it back on the coaster.

"My wife and I have a little home just outside of Westhope...on the north side. We've lived there for about six years now. The day this thing or event or whatever the hell it was that happened, I had driven early over to St. Andrews hospital in Bottineau. I work for an electrical contractor and we had a job there installing a 400 amp service panel. I was down in one of the service tunnels in the basement running some service entrance cable. Zane...the guy that i work with quite often, had just gone back to the van outside to get the Hilti drill and some Tap-Cons. There was a tremendous explosion...it felt like one of those 500 pound slicks we dropped in Iraq. I immediately thought it was a natural gas line that had exploded or a plane had crashed outside. I ran to go up the steps but the power had gone out and the heat coming down the stairway was so intense it forced me back into the basement. I had a small flashlight in my tool pouch and after a while when the heat had subsided enough I made my way over to the stairway...but there was so much debris that had fallen into it that I couldn't get up the steps. I had worked at this hospital before and I knew that in another part of the basement there were some window wells that I might be able to crawl through. I eventually found one of the windows but it took me a while to get out. They were painted shut...I had to break it out with an empty oxygen cylinder that was stacked there on a shelf. When I got outside...it was...well...it was just gone...I struggled to breathe...there was this hot acrid smoke...It seemed like everything was on fire. I made my way back to where the van was parked to find Zane. I found him lying behind the van. His clothes were smouldering...he had been burned... terribly burned... I knelt by his side...he was unrecognizable...I managed to get his wedding ring off his finger and I stuck it in my pocket...I thought his wife would want it. I stood there for a while slowly turning around with my mouth hanging open...half of the hospital had collapsed...there were buildings and vehicles on fire...but no people. I ran around...kinda frantically I guess for a while just looking for someone...there was nobody...alive that is. I walked south a block or two past the courthouse then east towards main street...it was just total destruction. I remember standing outside of what was left of the "Family Bakery"...we would sometimes go there for lunch...I just stood there...looking up and down the street thinking, "It's happened...it's really happened".

" What do you mean by that"?...Colonel Steiger leaned towards him and asked. "What did you think had happened? Did you think it was an attack of some sort"?

Van had reached for the vodka tonic and taken another deep drink. The ice tinkled against the glass as he placed it back on the coaster. "Can I freshen that for you"?...Colonel Steiger asked rising from his chair. Van nodded appreciativley. "Sidney...how about you"? "I'm fine for now thankyou"...the doctor responded. Mr. Freedman sat looking intently at Van...his right elbow on the armrest of the cushioned chair...his head supported by the outstretched fingers of his right hand. He reached for his drink also and took a modest sip.

"Thankyou"...Van said as the Colonel held out his drink.

"The thought of it being an attack didn't really even enter my mind. You see...my wife and I...well...we had become involved with a faith group who had convinced us that the end of the world was about to happen. As crazy as it sounds, when I stood there that morning looking up and down the streets, I firmly believed that was exactly what had happened...that God has finally brought an end to everything just like they had been teaching us."

" So you believed it was Armageddon and, I would assume, that you probably thought only those who were members of your group would be the ones to survive"?...the doctor asked calmly.

"Yeah...at the time...that was pretty much it"...Van admitted. "Have you heard of such a thing before" ?

"I've worked with people before who had similar beliefs...there are a number of different groups who have the same teachings"...the doctor said understandingly.

Van nodded and continued. "I started walking out of town towards Westhope. I found a few vehicles with the keys in them along the way but nothing would start...it was like the electronics were messed up in them...so I resigned to myself that I would have to walk home. It was thirtyone miles back to town...I made it in two days." He paused for a few moments... reached for his glass...and took another swallow of the icy drink. "When I walked into town that afternoon I met up with a number of "Inheritors" that I knew...that's the name of the group that my wife and I had joined. I have no idea how so many of them had survived. Sometimes they would have an early morning conclave in the basement of Seer Erdhenne's home...maybe that's where they were that morning. They told me that they had organized a camp for everyone...the leaders assigned us places to stay...in damaged homes or garages...even some old school buses...whatever they could find. I was quartered in a small shed on a farm on the south side of town. They formed different work details also. I was assigned to a burial detail. We either buried the corpses in a mass grave or stacked them inside one of the damaged structures then set it on fire"...but there were so many...the buzzards got a lot before we could get to them". Everyone seemed to reach for his drink at the same time. "Excuse me Colonel"...Van asked..." Could I use your washroom"?

"Of course" ...he responded... "Right through that door"...he pointed.

When Van had entered the washroom, Colonel Steiger and Dr. Freedman glanced at each other with a grave look on their faces.

" Kid's been through a lot Colonel"

"Yes...quite an experience...I think what he's told us so far though will help our people know what to expect as they move into the area. It was interesting to hear him say what he believed had happened...and about this religious group that he became involved with...strange".

"Yes it was"...Sidney nodded agreeably. "His experience with the group isn't uncommon though. Typical high control group....that's what they're referred to now by my profession."

"High control"?

"Yes... they all seem to use techniques...proven techniques...to exploit and manipulate people."

"Like what?...can you give me an example"?

"I would say primarily fear...fear of death. The promise that you can escape death with the reward of living forever in some perfect utopia...that is if you stay within the group and do what they say"... he said with a smile. "But if you decide that you don't want to be a part of it any longer, then chances are you'll be shamed and ostracized. Throw in a good dose of guilt and you have an effective way of controlling people. It's very difficult for people to leave one of these groups, but I think that's what happened with Mr. Petrenko...I think he's left the group for some reason".

"What makes it so difficult to leave for these people?...why can't they just walk away?...the Colonel asked inquisitively

"Well...over time the beliefs become so deeply entrenched...and then there may be family members involved who have the same beliefs"...he paused. Did you ever see a movie called "The Shootist"?

"Why yes...one of my favorites...John Wayne's last movie"...the Colonel replied.

"Remember his character went to see Doc Hostetler"

"Yes, I remember that scene..old J.B. had a terminal cancer".

"That's right...and he asked Doc..." Can't you cut it out Doc"?...and Doc said... "I'd have to gut you like a fish". To me it's similar with someone who has deeply held beliefs...to try to excise them would most likely cause more harm"...he said seriously.

"But you think that he's come to that conclusion himself"?...the Colonel observed.

"It's just a feeling that I get from listening to his story...his body language...his appetite for drink tells me something...and the fact that he's here and not back with his group...why is that?...he seems to be escaping something."

"Yes...I noticed that too."

"I think that he's going to have mixed emotions when you explain to him what actually happened" .

They both reached for their drink.

....to be continued