Nuclear Storm. Don Pendleton
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Verge of Extinction
An eco-terrorist group has set up base in a secluded part of Yellowstone National Park with a plan to save the planet. Believing mankind is a virus that must be eradicated, the group has set in motion a plot to kill millions in seconds and leave the rest of the human race on the verge of extinction. Nothing will throw them off course—including any campers who try to stop them. But Mack Bolan isn’t your average outdoorsman.
Unarmed, with only his wits and nature on his side as the clock ticks down to a nuclear disaster, Bolan knows the best chance for saving countless innocent lives and averting a global crisis is through guerilla warfare. The terrorists may be on a mission to destroy man, but the Executioner has his own elimination objectives.
Bullets punched holes in the fender near Bolan’s head.
He rolled to the passenger side of the pickup just as the sniper rifle’s report boomed again and another round tore through the cargo bed on the driver’s side. The flames from the engine would soon engulf the entire truck or reach the gas tank. Neither scenario made for a case to stay put.
Sticking his gun up over the edge of the bed, Bolan cranked off several 3-round bursts, then heaved himself over the side. Falling to the ground, he scooted under the truck, hoping to pick off at least one of the shooters before the sniper got lucky.
He scanned the forest, looking for movement, and caught a flash of fire from the tree line about twenty yards behind the truck.
Then a whoosh came from behind him and the engine burst with a spray of fluid. The flames dimmed for a moment, then flared up with renewed intensity. Bolan felt his feet and legs growing hotter each second. He shut all that out, and narrowed his world to the dot inside the circle at the end of the gun.
Amid the chaos, the Executioner inhaled through his nose, let the air escape through his mouth and squeezed the trigger.
Nuclear Storm
The Executioner
Don Pendleton
Every creature is better alive than dead, men and moose and pine trees, and he who understands it aright will rather preserve its life than destroy it.
—Henry David Thoreau
1817–1862
Human beings have certain rights, the greatest being that to live. And when anyone dares steal this right from innocent people, I will step in and take away that person’s rights—every last one.
—Mack Bolan
THE MACK BOLAN LEGEND
Nothing less than a war could have fashioned the destiny of the man called Mack Bolan. Bolan earned the Executioner title in the jungle hell of Vietnam.
But this soldier also wore another name—Sergeant Mercy. He was so tagged because of the compassion he showed to wounded comrades-in-arms and Vietnamese civilians.
Mack Bolan’s second tour of duty ended prematurely when he was given emergency leave to return home and bury his family, victims of the Mob. Then he declared a one-man war against the Mafia.
He confronted the Families head-on from coast to coast, and soon a hope of victory began to appear. But Bolan had broken society’s every rule. That same society started gunning for this elusive warrior—to no avail.
So Bolan was offered amnesty to work within the system against terrorism. This time, as an employee of Uncle Sam, Bolan became Colonel John Phoenix. With a command center at Stony Man Farm in Virginia, he and his new allies—Able Team and Phoenix Force—waged relentless war on a new adversary: the KGB.
But when his one true love, April Rose, died at the hands of the Soviet terror machine, Bolan severed all ties with Establishment authority.
Now, after a lengthy lone-wolf struggle and much soul-searching, the Executioner has agreed to enter an “arm’s-length” alliance with his government once more, reserving the right to pursue personal missions in his Everlasting War.
Special thanks and acknowledgment to Travis Morgan for his contribution to this work.
Contents
Prologue
Sitting under the clear Wyoming night sky, the thousands of stars overhead giving him an amazing view of the heavens, Joseph Sidell felt the stress of his first graduate student semester finally begin to dissipate from his neck and shoulders.
On the other side of the campfire, his roommate, George Turlington, smiled as he tossed another log on the blaze, making a burst of sparks float into the night sky. “Feelin’ better, buddy?”
“Yeah, but I’m still worried about the havoc this trip is gonna wreak on my schedule.”
“Jeez, will you just relax for the next two days? MIT will still be there when you get back, and your crushing workload will be right there waiting for you, too. Right now, just sit back, ponder the heavenly light show above us, and—” he winked one deep brown eye “—think of other pleasures you could be enjoying.”
Joe frowned. “What are you talking about?”
George rolled his eyes. “Dude, you have got to stop drawing all those buildings people will be living in in 2050 and take an occasional look at the world around you—and the people in it. Brandy is way into you,