Marilyn sits down to eat lunch with us. Half my age at sixty, she could easily pass for thirty, while I could be mistaken for forty. Elijah and Amanda, our teenage son and daughter have already begun eating.

"This soup is yummy, Mom," Amanda says, sharing a rare compliment.

"Is it? Awesome," my wife says, smiling. "Just threw it together."

Pride and warmth ooze from her. I've always loved Marilyn's smile. So genuine and heartfelt that when she flashes it I can't help but smile along with her.

Everything in our underground mountain bunker is white, including our disposable coveralls and slippers.

"So, what do you guys want to do after lunch?" I ask. "We could take a ride on the glidercycles, or we could all hike down to the valley and go swimming."

"We should take the glidercycles to go swimming," suggests Elijah.

"Good idea. You girls up for that?"

Marilyn shrugs. "Sounds like fun."

"Can't we take the glidercycles over the Denver ruins again?" Amanda says. "I like flying through the busted up skyscrapers."

"No way," Marilyn tells her. "That's too damn dangerous. We're going swimming."

The last of the cities have been gone for decades. Dismantled and overgrown, some were nature preserves or amusement parks. Denver, however, is nothing more than deserted ruins from a bygone era.

Decentralization dispersed the human race throughout the globe. We live our two or three hundred years surrounded by family and friends, learning, playing and eating together.

Our underground bunker was built, like so many others, just before the great peace went into effect. The world had been threatened by a doomsday device that still orbits the Earth to this day, but, in the face of total annihilation, our planet was reborn. We were united as a people, and we've prospered ever since.

Wars, violence, and diseases are merely tales from Earth's previous centuries. Our electric power is perpetual and our food and possessions are all free.

The world federation provides for everyone and we want for nothing.

Suddenly, the ground begins to tremble. We all stop eating, knowing something is very wrong.

"Oh my God," Marilyn says. "Is it an earthquake?"

"No," I answer. "It's... it's something else... but it can't be. It just can't be."

I've heard that sound before, a world shaking sound. Even though I know it's impossible, I remember that sound.

"What is it, Chris?" Marilyn asks, terrified.

"I... I don't know," I say, but I know it's the Horn, I just can't bring myself to say it.

"Why do you look so scared?" Marilyn asks. "What's going on?"

Instead of answering, I jump from my seat and rush down the long white hallway toward the heavy steel door that exits our bunker.

If it is the Horn of the Apocalypse, and I'm quite certain it is, we haven't got much time. Yes, we live in a bomb shelter, but the Horn is armed with eight missiles designed to destroy the Earth.

If they are released there will be no survivors. There will be no Earth.

When I was a boy, only six or seven, the Horn blared. It never fired its missiles, of course, but that sound is unforgettable. Its deep all encompassing resonance causes the Earth's very crust to tremble, and the sound vibrates right up through you, nearly enough to make your teeth chatter.

That is what I'm feeling as I push open the steel door and step out of the bunker. Outside, on our mountain road, I look up at the bright blue Colorado sky, and see the Horn. Its cup shaped outline hovers in space, pale and huge, ten times the size of the moon, yet barely visible in the daylight.

Streaks of rocket trails are streaming out of it, as eight pinpoints of light float down toward the Earth, down toward me and my family. The blaring Horn vibrates all of creation as the doomsday missiles fly.

"But... why?" I ask aloud. I thought we'd had it all figured out.

Finally, instead of standing there with no answers, I decide to stop wasting what little time I have left. I go back inside.

"What is it, Chris?" Marilyn asks.

I laugh. "It's a hovercraft floating over the bunker."

"Really?" Marilyn looks perplexed. "I've never seen one around here."

I shrug, and sit down.

I sip some soup. "This really is good, baby."

Marilyn smiles. "Thank you," she says.

I can't help but smile along with her.