And the first person the base commander asked for was not a colonel.
Not a general.
Not even a currently serving officer.
It was Walter Crane.
The emergency began with a power failure.
Then came the communications blackout.
Within minutes, the eastern side of Fort Redstone had lost electricity, radio contact, and backup communications.
The timing was terrible.
A classified training exercise was underway at the same time.
A convoy carrying thirty-six soldiers and several senior officers was moving through the northern training range when a violent storm rolled over the mountains.
Lightning struck an electrical relay station.
The backup system failed.
Then the convoy stopped responding.
Inside the command center, Colonel Miriam Shaw stared at the map.
"How long?"
"Seven minutes since last contact."
"Send the recovery team."
"They can't reach the pass."
"Why?"
The communications officer swallowed.
"Flash flooding."
Another officer rushed into the room.
"Colonel, the northern bridge is underwater."
Shaw's jaw tightened.
The convoy was trapped beyond the flood channel.
If the storm continued, the mountain road could collapse.
And then there was another problem.
One of the vehicles carried experimental navigation equipment that could not fall into uncontrolled hands.
"Can we restore the tower?"
"No."
"Satellite?"
"Blocked by the storm."
Shaw turned toward the communications chief.
"Who knows the old terrain?"
The room went quiet.
Then someone said:
"Walter."
Shaw looked up.
"Walter who?"
"Crane. Maintenance."
The colonel stared.
"You've got to be joking."
"No, ma'am."
The communications chief pulled up an old personnel record.
"Walter Crane served here decades ago. Before the base was expanded. He knows the old tunnels, drainage routes, abandoned roads."
"How?"
"According to the file, he helped design the original emergency evacuation routes."
Shaw hesitated.
"Find him."
Meanwhile, Walter was standing beneath a leaking roof near the maintenance garage.
He had already heard the sirens.
When a young lieutenant came running toward him, Walter immediately understood that something was wrong.
"Mr. Crane!"
Walter turned.
"What's happening?"
"Convoy missing in the north range."
Walter's expression changed.
"How many?"
"Thirty-six."
"Where?"
The lieutenant showed him the map.
Walter stared at it for several seconds.
Then he shook his head.
"They're not where you think they are."
"What?"
"The flood moved the marker."
He pointed.
"If they followed the modern road, they would have been pushed toward the ravine."
The lieutenant looked confused.
"How do you know?"
Walter looked toward the storm.
"Because that road didn't exist when I was young."
Within minutes, Colonel Shaw arrived.
She looked at Walter.
"You can find them?"
"I can try."
"We don't have time for try."
Walter gave her a tired smile.
"Then you shouldn't have come looking for an old man."
Shaw frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Walter grabbed a waterproof jacket from the wall.
"It means I know a route your maps forgot."
Staff Sergeant Cole arrived moments later.
He recognized Walter immediately.
The old man's battered jacket was now zipped to his neck.
Cole stared.
"You?"
Walter glanced at him.
"Apparently."
Cole wanted to say something.
Instead, he followed.
As they reached the motor pool, Walter stopped beside an old utility vehicle.
He opened the driver's door.