*******
The two bombs fell silently through the dark night. They separated gradually as they moved toward their targets, but always remained abeam from each other as they slipped through the thin atmosphere. Two hundred feet after dropping from the undercarriage of the F-16, the bombs had reached terminal velocity. Small propellers popped out from the cores, spinning in the wind to arm the warheads. Then the nose cones slowly dropped, the miniature steering fins at the back of the bombs guiding the weapons with adjustments that were too quick to see.
Fifteen thousand feet and falling. Twenty-one seconds to go.
*******
Seven thousand feet below the bombs, the Saudi’s cell phone rang. Eyes wide in terror, he stared at it, and then shook his head.
So many voices.
So much confusion.
So many spinning thoughts inside his brain.
*******
The air turned from crisp and cold to warm and wet as the bombs fell, the humidity and heat of the ocean warming the lower atmosphere. The bombs made no sound but a soft whoosh, like the wings of an angel that slipped through the dark night.
Eight thousand feet and falling.
Little more than ten seconds to go.
*******
The Saudi’s telephone continued ringing, its high-pitched tone seeming to pierce the dark night like the cry of a child from some tin-covered pit. Moving slowly, he flipped the phone open and placed it at the side of his head. “NOW!” he heard his master’s voice scream in his ear.
The Saudi mumbled something, but he didn’t do anything.
“NOW!” he heard his master scream once again. Although thirty miles away, his voice was as clear as if he were standing right next to him. “Now! Hit the trigger! You know what to do!”
The Saudi took a breath and looked down at the trigger in his palm. He closed his eyes and pressed the button.
And that was all he knew.
*******
The flash from the nuclear device illuminated the night, turning it into a brazen, white day. The light was unnaturally bright, like the surface of the sun, with tongues of white fire that flashed across the entire sky. Like a burst of stark lightning on the darkest night, the blazing strobe of nuclear power flashed, blinding and burning every eye that was unfortunate enough to see.
The Israeli pilot glanced over his shoulder as he banked his aircraft to the north, and though he didn’t see the flash, he felt the piercing heat penetrating his eyes, as if a white-hot, burning needle had been jammed in his skull. Immediately blinded, he cried out in pain.
Confused, terrified, he rubbed at his eyes. He heard his formation leader begin to call him, his panicked voice crying over the radio. Then the heat blast fell upon them, tearing their little fighters apart.
The shock wave moved across the ground at the speed of sound, a wall of heat and energy that burned up or exploded everything in its path. Then the awesome wind followed, blowing out everything before it in a powerful explosion of superheated air that suddenly reversed to fill the vacuum that was left from the nuclear fireball.
Across the ghettos and slums and neighborhoods of Gaza, there was fire and heat and nuclear radiation as the nuclear explosion destroyed everything in its path. There were crumbled buildings, burning rubble, and melted concrete and steel. Pain and death were everywhere.
From ground zero to four miles out from the core of the explosion, only a few were left alive. From four to seven miles out, most were burned or radiated beyond what they could survive. From eight miles out, the devastation was survivable, but one hundred twenty thousand were dead or dying inside the ring of fire.
The mushroom cloud rolled up into the night sky, an orange-and-red fireball that seemed to churn and boil and feed on itself, growing larger and more violent as it climbed into the upper atmosphere. The flash of white light and the burning fireball could be seen for hundreds of miles, each sign announcing the change of times to the world.
White House Situation Room, Washington, D.C.
The radar picture from the American AWACS circling over the Mediterranean Sea suddenly collapsed on itself, seeming to suck into a small dot at the middle of the screen before it snapped and disappeared. The image was replaced by noisy static, and the members of the White House national security team seemed to pause and take a breath as one. A couple of them turned to each other and shrugged their shoulders. The watch supervisor sitting behind a glass-enclosed cubicle at the back of the room pressed a button under his desk, calling on the IT staff. The screen had lost connectivity, he figured, and he needed it fixed right now!
General Brighton stood without moving, staring at the blank screen, a sinking feeling in his gut.
The president turned to the vice president. “What happened to our picture?” he asked.
The vice president looked confused, and then reached for a button on the communications panel directly in front of him. But before he could do anything, the room was filled with a panicked voice that was filled with fear and cold dread. “Bull’s-eye, this is Falcon,” the pilot called before his voice was swallowed up in static.
“Who the devil is Falcon?” the president demanded.
The controller inside the glass cubical answered the question. “Falcon is the call sign for the AWACS reconnaissance aircraft flying over the Mediterranean Sea.”
“What does he—”
The president stopped talking when the AWACS pilot started broadcasting again. “Bull’s-eye, this is Falcon. We’ve got . . . fire . . . into the sky!”
The president hesitated. What was he talking about? He jammed his finger against the broadcast button on the communications pod. “Falcon, what are you saying?” he demanded in a sharp voice.
“Bull’s-eye. We’ve had . . . explosion over the Gaza Strip. Repeat, we’ve . . . nuclear fireball. It looks like . . . holy . . . .” The pilot’s voice trailed off, crackling with the static that was building from the electromagnetic disturbance in the upper atmosphere. “It looks like,” his voice came back after a moment of white noise, “it looks like the Israelis have just nuked all of Gaza and half of Egypt as well!”
FIFTEEN
Middle East
The world sat in stunned and breathless silence for almost a day. Shock. Trauma. Terror. The emotions boiled high. Like a man who’d been shot, the world seemed look down in surprise, astonished to see the blood begin to seep from his chest. The pain would come, but it was slow, the shock keeping the anguish at bay.
Rescue operations were sluggish and cumbersome, for the area was so radiated that it was impossible to work. The dead remained in the streets of Gaza. Without assistance, many of the sick and the injured died, and the stench of rot filled the air.
Devastation and destruction. More than 140,000 dead. Five thousand more had died in the first day alone.
Israel pleaded with the world, declaring its innocence. “We did not do it! We did not do it!” they cried.
But no one believed them. The evidence was in and it was crystal clear. Everyone had seen what had happened. It was too obvious to deny. The Jews had been desperate. They had panicked. In a moment of fear and rage, they had overreacted in the most horrible way.
And now they had to pay the price. A hundred forty thousand dead and dying Palestinians could simply not be denied.
*******
The president of the United States made a quick statement, begging for a calm and measured response to the attack. “We don’t really know what happened,” he declared to the world. “We must be patient. We must be careful. We must not condemn until we know. And we will stand by our ally until we know who to blame. Israel is our closest friend and our most important ally in the region, and we will not desert them until we have proof they are responsible for the attack.”
But everyone knew that was what the U.S. president would say. No one listened to him. They were finished listening to him now.
The first world leader to speak after the U.S. president
was the Secretary-General of the U.N. The lead diplomat stood before the General Assembly in an emergency meeting, his white hair shining brightly under the television lights. His voice rose and fell with emotion. He was on key, a perfect delivery, indignant and full of self-righteousness. “What we have just witnessed,” the Secretary-General began, “is nothing but genocide. Ethnic cleansing and vile hatred of the very worst kind! Not since the last century has our planet, our home, been polluted by a nuclear device. Not since the closing days of World War II have so many innocent people died. How many guiltless Palestinian families were killed yesterday? How many more are dying even as I stand here? How many more will die before the death count is complete?
“We must identify and punish those Jewish leaders who have committed this atrocity. We must hold them accountable for the genocide. Crimes against humanity cannot be simply swept away. And we must ensure that the people who supported them will be held accountable as well.
“And then, my fellow leaders, we must consider the next step to take.
“How many years now has the world been roiled in strife? Since the founding of Israel, we’ve seen nothing but war. There is no peace, and there will be no peace, until we take the next step.”
He left the next step undefined, but everyone knew what he meant.
“Do we need any more excuse,” the Secretary-General completed, “or have you finally seen enough? Have we need of further evidence than what we were shown yesterday? I think not. I think not.”
Within an hour of his speech, the European Union made a formal statement, condemning the state of Israel as well as any who had supported them in this most horrendous attack. Already, European Muslim immigrants, almost fifty million in all, were rioting in the streets, demanding justice, demanding punishment, demanding the destruction of Israel and the United States. Watching their own streets erupt in Muslim fury, the European leaders cowered. They knew that the immigrants had been growing in numbers, but now there were so many. And they were so strong! So many Muslims. So much fury. They could wield a furious power of destruction if the leaders didn’t tread carefully.
On the evening of the second day, the United Nations Security Council met in an emergency session. It was almost midnight when the meeting got under way, and for the first time in the history of the U.N., the U.S. ambassador to the United Nations was not allowed to attend. A security delegation of the General Assembly stood at the doorway to keep him from entering the Security Council room.
The U.S. ambassador protested and argued, but it didn’t change anything, and the meeting was called to order with him standing outside the closed door. For almost ten minutes he stood there, looking like a fool to the gloating press, then finally left in a rage, disappearing down the winding stairs.
The French ambassador called the meeting to order. “Israel has created an enormous problem,” he started. “One that will be extremely difficult to deal with, I’m sure you agree. And yes, it is true that Israel must be punished, and we, as a body, must soon turn our attention to that. What will happen to her, I don’t know, I don’t think anyone can predict. It will be dire. It will be unpleasant, but we have to remember this: The problem isn’t only Israel. The much greater problem is the United States.”
The German and Russian ambassadors all nodded, clapping their hands to agree. The Chinese delegate remained silent. This was all good to him. The English ambassador huffed for a moment, and then remembered the twelve million Muslims who lived inside England now. He remembered the strident anti-American candidates who had gained so much power in the local elections. He considered the anti-Semites who had become brazen now, picking up power at almost every turn. He remembered the pictures he had seen of the nuclear explosion over Gaza, the charred and burning bodies, the dead children on the street. He remembered all this, then sat quietly and listened.
The German ambassador stood next to his European brother. Together, they proposed a joint resolution. The time had come for the world to move beyond the postwar perceptions and recognize things for what they were. The United States, once a great and benevolent nation, was no longer a force for good. Instead, the Americans and their allies had become the greatest threat to peace in the world. Always arrogant and self-serving, they had grown far too powerful. And their few allies had grown evil as well, the puppet state of Israel having proven that beyond any doubt.
But if they could neuter the Americans, her allies would be neutered as well. Without the United States, her puppets wouldn’t have the power to wreak such havoc in the world.
Therefore, the two ambassadors proposed a drastic resolution.
Two hours later, after a nearly unanimous vote, the United States was kicked off the Security Council. It seemed the best way to indicate the world’s disdain.
As the second most populous nation in the world, India would be given the old U.S. seat. And yes, the U.N. charter would have to be either amended or ignored to accommodate the resolution, but no one seemed particularly concerned with the governing rules right now.
The proposal was put before the General Council, where it passed overwhelmingly.
And while the United States protested angrily, the rest of the world seemed to cheer.
*******
On the evening of the third day after the attack, King al-Rahman of the House of Saud was given time to address the General Assembly. Before doing so, he informed the U.N. leadership that he had been asked to speak for the entire Muslim world and all Arab-speaking peoples. It would be his task, he told them, to provide their formal response to the nuclear attack.
The world breathlessly waited to hear what he said.
King al-Rahman stood at the enormous podium, looking down on the representatives from virtually every nation on earth. His comments were being broadcast throughout the entire world. Almost five billion people watched him as he stood tall and proud before the cameras. He was a handsome man. Well mannered. Well manicured. He certainly looked reasonable. A man the world could work with. Not a man to fear. He even looked like a king! Strong. Compassionate and yet defiant. Confident and still kind.
“I stand here before you,” the king started to say, “because I have been asked to speak for my people, to speak for my fallen kin.
“Now, I understand what you expect. You want me to stand and condemn the state of Israel. I should. And I will. But this is not where I want to begin. You see, we have been hacking at the leaves of this new evil for far too long now. We hack at the leaves, and they keep growing because we ignore the root.
“So I stand here, my brothers, my fellow human beings, to declare the need to let the leaves blow, for they will fall in the wind if we can destroy the root!”
A silence fell over the assembly. The cameras rolled. All sat grim-faced. A deadly hush filled the air.
“My oldest brother has been killed recently,” the dark-haired king continued in a solemn tone. “My own father, the beloved king, killed as well. Enemies of the state of Israel, I wonder now who had them killed?
“So I stand here as an Arab and a Muslim, one who has felt the harsh sting of death. I stand here as a brother to one hundred and fifty thousand Palestinians—and the number is still growing—who have been mercilessly killed, as the son of a dead father and a dead brother, my prince. I stand here to cry out for justice and vengeance as well.
“We can talk all we want about Israel. We scream and condemn. We can point fingers and plan retaliations. We can pound our fists on our desks. We can do this and more, but we would be wasting our time. You see, my fellow world citizens, I know now, we all know, where the real problem lies.”
The king paused and lifted a large photograph and held it for the cameras to see. “U.S. combat soldiers operating inside Iran,” he explained. “A clear and warlike violation of this nation’s borders and integrity. Now, how would the United States react were an Arab nation to secretly send its combat troops to operate within U.S. borders? You don’t have to think very long. The answer is cle
ar.”
The king dropped the picture and lifted another. “Muslim men being tortured in a U.S. military prison,” he explained. “This is only one of many U.S. gulags in the world; it just happens to be the most famous one: Guantanamo Bay in Cuba. But there are many more: Abu Ghraib in Iraq, Saud el-Amin in Pakistan, and Bagram prison in Afghanistan, Ishmet in Indonesia, to name just a few. From one hemisphere to another, there are military prisons everywhere. Most are secret. None are open. The International Red Cross cannot get in. These torture chambers have become such a scourge that Hitler and Stalin would be proud. Tens of thousands of innocent victims sit and rot in these prisons where they are tortured, starved, and beaten every day. And why are they held? What crime have they done? Even according to many U.S. courts, they have committed no crime. Their only crime, their only sin, is that they are Muslim men. From this evidence, and more, it has become clear that the United States is waging a war against my religion and my people, against a culture and ethnicity that is different from theirs.
“Who will speak for these prisoners? Who?
“That is why I stand here. I speak for them today!”
The king stopped and looked out on the delegates, their eyes all fixed on him. They smelled blood now, and they wanted to get in on the kill. The king’s black-and-white headdress fell perfectly down his neck, and his dark eyes stared out as he brought his hand to his chin. “And now I must tell you, fellow delegates, that I have further devastating news.
“I have been informed that we have evidence, even proof, that Israel coordinated its attack on Gaza with the U.S. president. In addition, the head of the International Atomic Energy Agency has informed me that the nuclear bomb that was dropped over Gaza was supplied by the United States. Every nuclear detonation leaves a particular fingerprint, one that is traceable, and this warhead was almost certainly produced by the U.S. weapons facility in Tennessee. The head of the IAEA has assured me that they will know for certain very soon. But either way, the United States must have known what was coming. How could they not know? Israel would never have taken such a step without the express approval of its master. In fact, it is my opinion that the United States not only approved the attack on Gaza, they commanded it. Think about it, fellow delegates. Haven’t we seen this before? Think of what the Americans consider an appropriate response. A few thousand Americans are killed in this very city in an attack—an attack, I might add, that was roundly condemned by virtually every Arab state. Yet how does the United States respond? They invade a sovereign nation, causing an untold number of civilian deaths. They destroy an entire government. An entire country is taken down.
(Wrath-04)-Breathless (2012) Page 13
