<p>Your arrival at the mine was met by a military patrol, posted there by the World Defence League. The job of the patrol was to prevent sabotage; oil installations all over the world had become one of HAVOC's primary targets in their campaign of terror. The mine was officially closed for the New Year's recess but Uncle Jonas had right of access at all times and, after checking his papers, the patrol allowed you in. It was a massive complex and, for security reasons, it was totally self-supporting. A central shaft serviced the many working levels to which there were attached laboratories, workshops and even refineries for processing the precious crude oil after it had been extracted from the rock. Uncle Jonas was explaining the function of these refineries, 300 feet below the surface, when it happened.</p>
<p>The ground shuddered when the shock waves from the first distant explosions reached the mine, and you remember thinking that it must be the start of an earthquake, the like of which you had experienced many times at home in California. But as the levels nearest the surface began to collapse and the central shaft filled with falling rubble, you realized the awful truth. The unthinkable had happened. </p>
<p>At first there was no way of telling the extent of the surface devastation. Below ground, the safety generators had automatically switched into operation when the main power supply failed, and the tremors faded quickly, encouraging your aunt and uncle to believe that the damage above was superficial. Uncle Jonas was confident that the military would mount a rescue operation and that you would be brought out within a few days - a week at the most. Aunt Betty-Ann was also optimistic. After all, there were emergency supplies, enough to feed 200 men for a whole month. Little did she know that the three of you would end up consuming all of those supplies, or that the mine would become your home, your shelter and your prison for the next eight years of your lives.</p>
<p>Your arrival at the mine was met by a military patrol, posted there by the World Defence League. The job of the patrol was to prevent sabotage; oil installations all over the world had become one of HAVOC's primary targets in their campaign of terror. The mine was officially closed for the New Year's recess but Uncle Jonas had right of access at all times and, after checking his papers, the patrol allowed you in. It was a massive complex and, for security reasons, it was totally self-supporting. A central shaft serviced the many working levels to which there were attached laboratories, workshops and even refineries for processing the precious crude oil after it had been extracted from the rock. Uncle Jonas was explaining the function of these refineries, 300 feet below the surface, when it happened.</p>
<p>The ground shuddered when the shock waves from the first distant explosions reached the mine, and you remember thinking that it must be the start of an earthquake, the like of which you had experienced many times at home in California. But as the levels nearest the surface began to collapse and the central shaft filled with falling rubble, you realized the awful truth. The unthinkable had happened. </p>
<p>At first there was no way of telling the extent of the surface devastation. Below ground, the safety generators had automatically switched into operation when the main power supply failed, and the tremors faded quickly, encouraging your aunt and uncle to believe that the damage above was superficial. Uncle Jonas was confident that the military would mount a rescue operation and that you would be brought out within a few days - a week at the most. Aunt Betty-Ann was also optimistic. After all, there were emergency supplies, enough to feed 200 men for a whole month. Little did she know that the three of you would end up consuming all of those supplies, or that the mine would become your home, your shelter and your prison for the next eight years of your lives.</p>