“Ten seconds.”
“Take the wide shot,” the Director barked and clicked his fingers. The Switcher immediately punched a button on the desk to change cameras.
“Stand by to dim lights.”
The closing music began to swell under the talent’s sign off.
Down on the studio floor, tangled with snaking cables, the lighting operator prepared to dim the studio lights, while the floor manager leaned forward below the camera lens, counting down the remaining seconds with his fingers. In his headset he could hear the Director’s Assistant’s calm voice. “We’re clear in five … four … three … two ... one.”
Carly Clementine stayed smiling down the lens until the floor Manager completed the count, then let out a long breath of relief.
Her instincts told her it had been a great show; a tense, compelling interview with an Eastern European scientist who claimed that he had once worked on the fringes of the North Korean biological weapons program. The network’s researchers had stumbled across the man, now living in Canada, and driven him down from Montreal under a tight veil of secrecy. The scientist’s appearance had been such a coup for the show that Carly had ordered the man hidden in the network’s basement under the watchful eye of two staffers to ensure he was kept away from rival networks until an hour before going to air.
“Thank you, Professor Skenzovski,” Carly gave the man a smile that never quite reached her eyes. “It’s been a pleasure talking to you.”
A junior production assistant came from the shadows and escorted the scientist to the ‘green room’. The scientist – a middle aged man with a straggly beard and bleary eyes – blinked myopically, like someone woken from a trance. Carly waited until the man went out through the studio door before she unhooked her earpiece and arched her back. There was tension across her shoulders. She turned her head from side to side to loosen stiff joints, making her hair swish.
Suddenly her personal assistant appeared from behind a bank of lights, her face filled with angst and energy. She dodged the tangled cables and cameras, her mouth working with agitation as she rushed onto the set.
“Carly, there’s news breaking,” the woman blurted, breathless and panting. She had run all the way from the newsroom. “The Russians have just launched nuclear weapons!”
Carly Clementine felt crushed by the unfairness of fate. Five minutes after being broadcast, her exclusive interview with the scientist was already old news. A much bigger story had broken.
“Where?”
“Somewhere near the Mongolian border.”
“Damn!” she clenched her teeth and seethed. “Start hitting the phones.”
“Who do you want me to call?”
“Anyone in the Kremlin and the White House who will talk to me.”
Chapter 16:
THE OVAL OFFICE
THE WHITE HOUSE
“Gentlemen, I need a plan for an urgent raid into North Korea. I want a team to launch an assault on the Aoji-ri Chemical Complex,” President Austin said, addressing the nation’s highest-ranking military officers. The Joint Chiefs were in full dress uniform, seated in a semi-circle of straight-backed chairs around the Resolute desk. “And I need it to happen immediately.”
The officers shifted in their seats. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs spoke first, his tone a warning.
“Sir, the latest satellite intelligence suggests that North Korea is still overrun with several million plague-infected zombies…”
“I accept that, General Knight. And I accept there will be significant risk to our men,” President Austin said grimly. “But this operation must go ahead, regardless. It’s not negotiable.”
“What is the mission objective, sir?” the Chief of Naval Operations asked.
“There is every reason to believe the chemical plant contains documentation of biological experiments directly related to the NK Plague,” POTUS said. “If we’re ever to have a chance of developing an antidote to the infection, we need to know how this abomination was created. If there are answers, they’re going to be stored somewhere at Aoji-ri.”
“And you want computers, records… everything seized, sir?”
“Everything,” POTUS confirmed.
The Marine Corps Commandant and the Chief of Naval Operations exchanged glances. General Knight raised an eyebrow. Without spoken words, the men around the President’s desk seemed to come to a unified consensus.
“Sir, our recommendation would be to send the same operators from the 1st Special Forces Group that we launched from the Iwo Jima to intercept the initial North Korean missile attack.”
“Where are those men right now?”
“That’s just it, Mr. President. The operators are still aboard the Iwo Jima, and the ship is still on station in the Sea of Japan.”
“Really?” the President seemed deeply surprised.
“Yes, sir,” General Knight confirmed. “We kept the teams aboard the ship and have been using them as the pointy end of the spear for Operation ‘Tight-End’.”
“Explain,” President Austin had no idea what the operation entailed.
“‘Tight-End’ is an operation we’ve been running in the Sea of Japan and up to the Sea of Okhotsk, intercepting vessels that might be heading towards the Pacific – and potentially towards America. It’s been run in conjunction with your west coast naval blockade, sir.”
“Those men are the perfect solution to the problem, Mr. President,” the Marine Corps Commandant admitted. “They were unable to complete their last mission. They’ll be highly motivated to make amends.”
“Approved,” Patrick Austin said. “But I want another man included in the mission. His name is Nathan Power. He’s en route to Germany from Russia. The moment he lands I want him on a plane to meet up with the men aboard Iwo Jima. He goes in with the attack, understand?”
“Sir, is he qualified to join a Special Forces operation?”
“He’s a former Ranger, former CDC and former USAMRIID. He’s been following the contagion as my personal emissary across Europe. He’s qualified. Just make the arrangements and get him to Aoji-ri. He’ll know what to look for inside the chemical plant.”
General Knight nodded.
President Austin added, “Get these men in the air and on their way as soon as possible. Our intelligence services will have any relevant imagery of the site you might need for planning.”
The President stood up to signal the meeting was over. The Joint Chiefs all stood. General Knight asked one last question before the men filed from the room.
“Sir? Is there a timeline for completion of the operation?”
“Yes. Immediately – before the whole damned world burns to the ground.”
BYDGOSZCZ
POLAND
For several minutes after SACEUR’s helicopter touched down on the outskirts of Bydgoszcz, he just stood and stared in numb disbelief at the unfolding scenes of chaos.
The British Colonel that had been dispatched east to supervise evacuation from the sector came towards General Bram, stepping briskly. The colonel’s face was flushed with agitation.
“Hi, Pete,” General Bram greeted the Colonel informally, “what the fuck is going on here?”
“General,” Colonel Peter Harrowgate threw SACEUR a flustered salute. “Good of you to come, sir.”
“It looks like I’ve arrived too late,” Bram said, casting his gaze along the miles of choked road that ran west from the city. The highway was jammed with civilian vehicles while the nearby fields were filled with dozens of tanks and AFV’s mounted on flatbed trucks parked and idle. “Why the hell isn’t this armor moving towards Germany?”
Bydgoszcz was a mid-sized Polish city three hundred kilometers northwest of Warsaw and four hundred kilometers west of Berlin. The road network through the city was one of Poland’s main traffic arteries to the German border.
Colonel Harrowgate threw up his hands in frustration and looked back over his shoulder at the chaotic traffic jam. Military truck
s were stalled behind semi trailers. Humvees were snarled behind broken down cars. The city’s nearby rail link had been thrown into the same chaotic turmoil.
“Between bureaucracy, bad planning and bloody inadequate infrastructure, we’re in a hell of a mess,” the Colonel confessed. “Without an official declaration of war, we’re still subject to all the nightmares that have hamstrung NATO operations for the past twenty years, sir. No two countries think alike or work cooperatively. Germany is still only allowing flatbed trucks loaded with tanks and AFV’s to move along the highways at night. Sweden has a rule requiring three weeks notice before military personnel and equipment can enter the country. Sir, I know the Swedes are not NATO, but they’re contributing to the chaos of the evacuation.”
“And?”
“And the rails on the bloody Baltic railroad networks are spaced wider apart than the Western standard gauge. That means all the trains heading west have to be unloaded then reloaded near the Polish border with Lithuania.”
For years NATO had struggled with the practical logistical challenges of moving troops through Europe. On exercises against a theoretical Russian invasion west, the Allied forces had constantly been frustrated by the challenges of moving quickly across several countries. One newspaper had reported the recent incident where an Allied officer had to file seventeen separate forms to move his troops from the German port of Bremerhaven to their Polish destination.
SACEUR shook his head in frustration. The infected were moving relentlessly west and the Allies would need every available man and vehicle to defend the perimeter along the Rhine. Along this one section of road, Bram counted over a hundred tanks and APC’s parked on the roadside – useless steel carcasses unless he could get them west before the infected swarmed through Germany. General Bram had no doubt these same scenes were being repeated in a dozen other cities across Eastern Europe.
It was a nightmare that decades of government inertia had failed to address. Now Western Europe would be forced to pay the high price for its complacency.
ÉLYSÉE PALACE
PARIS, FRANCE
The three lecterns had been placed on an elevated stage at one end of the vast room. The flags of the twenty-nine NATO countries were arranged behind the platform as a colorful backdrop. The floor in front of the stage had been filled with the world’s assembled media, seated in a pecking order of importance, with the main networks closest to the stage and journalists from the lesser media outlets consigned to the back of the room.
The British Prime Minister stood behind the left-hand lectern, the French President stood in the middle, and the German Chancellor stood to the right.
All three men were dressed in dark suits and blue ties.
Cameras flashed. At the back of the room TV cameras blinked red lights. Several of the major networks were broadcasting the press conference live.
After a suitably somber pause, the French President lifted his eyes from his notes and gripped the edges of his lectern with his hands.
“Ladies and gentlemen of the press, and those watching this moment on your televisions. Welcome to Paris.
“Europe faces a moment of truth. This is a crisis in the history of humanity that has never been faced before. The two World Wars fought last century pale in comparison, for today there is no fight between nations – it is instead a fight for humanity’s survival. The NK Plague has devastated Asia and the subcontinent, and has now swept into Europe through Russia. Pakistan, India, Bangladesh, Nepal, Sri Lanka… have all been decimated. Japan, Vietnam, Taiwan, the Philippines, Malaysia… no country in Asia has been left untouched. With the annihilation of China, and now the push into Russia, it is estimated that almost four billion people – more than half the world’s population – has been exterminated by the plague.
“Now Western Europe must stare into the abyss of extinction. These are dark, dark days – the darkest we have ever faced. It is normal that fear and panic will drive us. Man’s most cruel and selfish countenances will come to the fore and be revealed. But I ask everyone to show restraint and reason. There is no escape from this plague unless we unite to resist its spread. Violence, fighting, rioting will not save a single soul. Anarchy only breaks us apart. Your wealth will not save you. Your lawlessness will not keep you alive. Only by working together, and by fighting for the common cause of survival can we hope to stand, united, against the plague. Every soldier needed on the streets to quell rioting is one less armed man to stand against the undead. Every police officer called to an assault is one less enforcement officer available to speed tanks and trucks to the frontline. The fight is coming – the plague is spreading like a wildfire across Russia and will soon be at our doorstep. Europeans, I appeal to you all; stand together, or face extinction.”
The German Chancellor spoke very good English. He stepped forward to his lectern. His voice was gruff and monotonous. He was not the gifted orator that the French President was. He delivered his message in short punchy stabs of information.
“As the news media has already broadcast, the forces of NATO have agreed to defend Western Europe by destroying the bridges along the Rhine and evacuating west of the river. Bombing missions by Allied fighters into Eastern Europe will commence within hours. Our combined air forces will continue to attack the approaching undead horde until they reach the Rhine.
“The damage to infrastructure will be enormous, but the risk to life is greater. Everyone still east of the Rhine River is urged to leave their homes and make their way towards safety. Our latest information, provided by military intelligence, suggests that three main columns of infected are at this moment driving west. These are not army columns. They are not organized. These are hordes of infected that are moving like great migrations in groups.
“One vast column drives west through Kazakhstan towards southern Russia and Ukraine. Another drives its way through Turkmenistan towards Iran and Turkey. The third column drives north into Russia from Mongolia and appears to be turning east, back towards Asia. Each of these massed hordes numbers in the many millions. Ahead of each mass, the infection spreads quickly. No one east of the Rhine is safe. No one.”
As the German Chancellor finished his speech, there was another flurry of camera flashes. The British Prime Minister stepped forward to speak.
Alistair Goodchild was a seventy-year old politician who had become Leader of the Labour Party three years earlier. He had served as Chancellor of the Exchequer in the previous government. He was a dour, colorless man, lacking charisma, who had proved deeply polarizing amongst the British population since his rise to power.
“For over seventy years – since the end of the Second World War – Europeans have bickered and been divided by petty political and economic squabbles. We have been united in just one thing; our fear of a Soviet attack into the west. In more recent years we have feared Russian expansion. Now Russia is no more – devastated not by our Alliance, but by the spread of the NK Plague.
“Now Western Europe faces a foe far mightier than Russia ever was. The NK Plague cannot be reasoned with, cannot be intimidated, cannot be threatened with political and economic sanctions. We stand on the precipice of extinction. We are facing the biblical ‘End Time’.
“Mighty nations like China and Russia with vast populations and massive military might have been humbled by this plague. We cannot fight it alone. We cannot stand divided. The British Army, Air Force and Navy are committed to the defense of Western Europe. We stand proudly beside our French and German allies. We stand with every NATO country that takes up arms to fight the common foe.
“We are no longer men and women of nations – we are a family, bound together against a plague that does not discriminate and knows no compassion. In our defense we must be equally ruthless. We must fight with ferocity and savagery. We must be merciless and completely committed. We can stand in the face of this enemy and meet it with resolve and unwavering bravery. We can survive. I call on every government of every European nation to join in the st
ruggle, whether they are NATO members or not. Every tank and aircraft and soldier is needed to defend the Rhine and fight back against the further spread of infection. This is no longer a NATO war. It is all of Europe’s fight.”
The Prime Minister paused for a moment and reached into his coat pocket for a note. He stared out into the crowd of media and smiled coldly.
“Children, it is the last hour, and as you have heard that antichrist is coming, so now many antichrists have come. Therefore we know that it is the last hour. John 2:18.”
The three leaders came together and stood united in front of the lecterns where they posed briefly for photographs before leaving the stage. They stoically ignored questions from the world’s media.
They had nothing more to say.
It was time to fight for survival.
EASTERN EUROPE
The NATO air strikes into Eastern Europe constituted the most extensive aerial bombardment in mankind’s history, utilizing aircraft from every major country to spearhead a relentless attack of unprecedented ferocity.
The US led the way, drawing every available aircraft from the European and Middle East theatres and centering them on Ramstein. By orientating all their aircraft to one central location, the Americans were able to fly massive coordinated attack missions around the clock.
Unlike the famous Desert Storm air campaign against Iraq in the early ‘90’s, there was no need to gain air superiority over an enemy, and no need to bring heavy munitions against an opposition that was dug in behind reinforced defenses. The undead were out in the open, swarming westward in vast columns, spreading the madness of their infection amongst the stragglers who had been left behind during the massive evacuation. Every NATO aircraft capable of firing a cannon or dropping ordnance was flung off the runway and into the attack.
The lethal A-10 Thunderbolt II Warthogs led the way. It was the only production-built aircraft to ever serve the USAF that had been specifically designed for close air support of friendly troops. Onboard, the Warthogs carried one of the most powerful aircraft cannons ever flown, capable of firing large depleted uranium armor-piercing shells. The seven-barreled rotary cannon fired almost four thousand rounds per minute. It was the ideal aircraft for the task, and the A-10 pilots bore the exhausting brunt of NATO’s iron fist.
Dead Storm: The Global Zombie Apocalypse Page 52
