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Once it had been San Francisco: the Bay, the Golden Gate, Marin County. Now the scorched shell of the last cable car lay crushed under thousands of tons of radioactive rubble that lay in turn submerged hundreds of feet beneath the grey chill Pacific. Now the snowflakes of the new semi-Arctic summer spattered down on the new San Andreas Faultline coast. John Rourke, CIA-trained weapons and survival expert, watched from the sloping deck of the USN nuclear submarine *John Paul Jones*. Ashore he could hear the animal shrieks and howls of the Wildmen. They too had survived the Night of the War. Survived and reverted into skin-clad, blood-lusting savages. Become creatures who crucified, burned and tortured all strangers in the name of their cult god. Shivering, tense, he checked his weaponry, made ready to slip ashore on a mission that seemed ever more like a suicide run.

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