APOCALYPSE 2073 Omnibus

by Parker James

  “And what do we do now, General McCreary?”

  “We wait, Mr. President.”

  Some time had passed and although it was only minutes it somehow seemed like hours. It was almost like an accident in process, where each and every second felt like an eternity. No one in the room spoke. There was nothing to be said as they all looked at the monitor at NORAD seeing those red lines rising and then arcing until finally they were on a downward trajectory as they headed toward their intended targets. Several of the red lines disappeared from the screen indicating that additional missiles had been intercepted. Yet others still continued on a path indicating that they’d been targeted to areas beyond Asia; Europe, Japan, and further. General Meehan turned to face the screen so those in the Control Room could see him clearly as he spoke.

  “Mr. President, first wave of missiles launched from China beginning to find their targets.”

  And with those words red circular dots appeared upon the screen indicating areas of nuclear impact. First in India and Pakistan and then shortly thereafter followed by additional impacts in China and Russia. Major population center hits in all countries undoubtedly with countless lives lost. And then in India and Pakistan there almost seemed to be too many circular patterns to count, it was carpet bombing on a nuclear scale. And then more sporadic hits in China and Russia followed in quick succession by impacts in Eastern Europe. And then the Middle East, simply disappearing off the map as North and South Korea had several months earlier. Japan had a significant drone intercept fleet and was able to take out a large number of the missiles targeted at them, but then Tokyo was hit followed in quick succession by a number of other major cities, gone in one fell swoop. More and more red lines continued to appear upon the monitor indicating additional missile had been launched, yet not as many as before.

  Then Europe got the brunt of it. Berlin, Paris, Rome, London, Madrid; too many cities to count as missiles continued to approach the United States, Canada, Mexico, South America, Australia, and the African Continent. The allied nations had launched all of their missile intercept systems; there was nothing left to do but wait and pray. General Meehan again turned so he could be seen by those in the Control Room, having been glued to the screen behind him. But the monitors began to become fuzzy, difficult to see clearly and intermittently fading in and out.

  “Mr. President. Tracking multiple ICBM’s headed our way, interceptors approaching missiles in both the Atlantic and Pacific at high altitude.”

  “How many missiles?” McCreary barked.

  “Well over three hundred.”

  “Damn it!” President Andrews yelled.

  Mitch and Anya just sat there watching as the situation unfolded, completely horrified. Professor Enghult, professional and analytical as he was, the absolute horror of it hit him like a brick wall. As a multitude of thoughts ran through everyone’s minds Meehan’s aide again ran up to him. The monitor was scratchy now and the aide excited as he was no longer whispered; his words came out as a shout.

  “General, sonar picking up multiple submarine based missile launches off of our coastlines. Ten miles out and under our radar system; impact imminent!”

  “Good Lord” Meehan said in voice that for anyone else but him would have been interpreted as a yell, despite the fact that it didn’t come across that way.

  McCreary was concerned that they’d soon lose contact completely and yelled at the monitor in order to make certain that Meehan heard him.

  “Jim, destroy those subs. Repeat, destroy those subs. If we lose contact, orders as instructed. Orders as instructed! Do you hear me?”

  “Copy, Phil. Orders as instructed,” Meehan said in a booming voice.

  “General McCreary, do we have any idea which nation launched those submarine based missiles?” the President asked.

  “Negative, Mr. President. We have no way of knowing and perhaps never will. It could be any number of countries hoping to survive this thing with a greater population than our own or the simple fear of being attacked by us. Those could be the only two possible reasons.”

  There was no time left now whatsoever. All that could be done was being done and they were witness to it firsthand. Those circular dots first seen in Asia and then followed by Europe began to appear on the monitor in front of them, yet now it was the United States. First Washington was hit followed in quick succession by New York and then Boston. Los Angeles was next on the list followed by Seattle and still the missiles kept coming and continued to find their targets. Miami, Mexico City, Rio De Janeiro; city after city after city. Coastal military installations were also hit with red lines continuing to head into the interior of the United States representing ballistic missiles that escaped the interceptors. Aghast; horrified; speechless, that was the best one could describe the atmosphere in the room as the monitors then went completely blank. Simple static with all communications lost.

  “General McCreary,” the President asked, “What can we expect for those left on the surface?”

  “Death on a massive scale. Nuclear winter. Everything you’ve ever read, everything you’ve ever heard, everything you’ve ever seen on TV, and everything you’ve ever imagined, times ten, Mr. President.”

  There was absolute silence. Some were thinking of family members lost in the blink of an eye while others still were trying to absorb what they’d just witnessed, unable to fathom the sheer magnitude of it. Anya wept silently while Mitch held his head down, hands folded and looking into his lap. Some in the room continued to watch the monitors hoping beyond hope that they’d somehow magically come back to life, but still the simple static remained. Several minutes passed when suddenly the room shook as if a minor earthquake had just occurred. To a person everyone knew its meaning, a nuclear blast, and an extremely close one at that. The President looked toward Professor Enghult, designer of the entire bunker system.

  “How far?” he asked.

  Enghult’s eyes darted back and forth, calculating.

  “Perhaps fifteen miles.”

  Just as Enghult got those words out, 400 feet below ground on Level 20 of Bunker Site 1 again the room shook, only this time more so. The lights briefly flickered and then without warning went out completely. Now they were in total darkness and truly on their own.

  Episode 12: “Aftermath”

  * * *

  While the first nuclear blast was in Professor Enghult’s estimation 15 miles away, the second was certainly much closer by far judging by its greater effect on the bunker. Yet before anyone could speak there was a sudden rumbling sound, almost as if one were listening to rolling thunder. The sound continued for almost two minutes in all despite the fact that they were 400 feet below ground level; the impact of the blast having reached the bunker far in advance of the sound wave of the exploding nuclear device. All they could do now was hope any other missiles on their way would be intercepted by the drones already in the air and hadn’t been launched by submarine. One of the many reasons the location of the primary bunker site was chosen was its distance from the coast; in all likelihood they were out of range of the smaller missiles flying below the radar screen and what they had in fact experienced was an inter-continentally launched ballistic missile. This would give the interceptor drones a greater chance of stopping any more of them on their way before reaching their intended targets, but at least one of them had escaped detection and found its mark in the vicinity of “Bunker Site 1.” So in the darkness engulfing them within the Control Room the President spoke before the emergency backup system lights came on.

  “Professor Enghult, how far was the second blast?”

  Enghult didn’t need to calculate the distance based upon the first impact occurring moments earlier as compared to the second blast and its dramatically increased effect on the bunker.

  “A near miss, Mr. President, perhaps five miles away this time. It may very well have been a single missile which escaped the interceptors and only one of the dozen nuclear devices within its cone. If that’s t
he case, they likely haven’t pinpointed our exact location and are attempting to carpet the given area with multiple devices. If we don’t hear any more impacts within the next five minutes based upon their launch sequence visualized on NORAD’s monitors before the loss of communications, I don’t expect any more should we have only been targeted by one missile. Also consider that as of yet we haven’t launched any of our own offensive weapons and in all likelihood have the majority of our nuclear arsenal intact. Whatever nation or nations attacked us run the greatest of risks should we retaliate in-full. Whether or not our allies followed your orders to withhold offensive operations is unknown; it may very well have been a unilateral pre-emptive strike.”

  The President’s appreciation of Enghult only increased upon hearing Gearhart’s thoughts and would continue to do so throughout the evening. He was more indispensable than President Andrews had initially realized, and on many levels. None of the other Joint Chiefs interjected or had anything to add to the Professor’s assessment.

  McCreary was also somewhat amazed by Enghult. The Professor seemed to know just as much as anyone in the room about the matter in detailed military terms. Yet it was he who designed the bunkers, and in order to do so properly had to know an extensive amount on the subject matter. His ability to retain knowledge, even down to the minutest of details was astounding. And with those thoughts the emergency lights and power systems within the bunker came back on-line, yet still the static on the monitors remained. Communications were down, and for how long would be anyone’s guess. McCreary walked over to the monitors and muted the volume, it was too disturbing to listen to but he allowed the pictures to remain should somehow beyond all hope Meehan’s visage magically once again appear. No one in the room expected it would; the EMP pulse of so many nuclear weapons peppering the United States and the world-at-large had done its damage. The Chairman and other Joint Chiefs knew Enghult was correct in his assessment, and despite the conversation continuing for the next five minutes they all held their breath and prayed to whatever God they believed in that there wouldn’t be any more secondary launches. They had no intelligence sources whatsoever now and the possibility of further launches would only make itself apparent if and when those missiles found their target; Bunker Site 1. They had to trust the efficiency of the interceptor fleet and Meehan’s discretion, at least for now, to do what was necessary. NORAD had been repeatedly fortified over the decades and had the ability to withstand multiple near direct nuclear hits. The question of whether or not the installation had survived the attack and that Meehan was in complete control of events was not an overriding concern, at least to a certain extent.

  But this much was also certain; before the loss of communication with General Meehan virtually all major cities in the coastal regions of the United States had been hit as well as most major military installations without the benefit of the protection of the bunker systems. They were undoubtedly completely destroyed with more missiles on their way to the interior of the country. Canada had been hit as well as Mexico and South America. To what extent they were targeted was not yet fully known either. With a degree of certainty Chicago was in all likelihood targeted as a major population center as well as the primary missile fields in the Dakota’s, the Panama Canal, various infrastructure; but this was sheer assumption on the part of the leaders in the room. How many weapons were left in the arsenals of the warring nations was an additional unknown, but most certainly fewer than before. What was also understood was the fact that the face of the planet had been changed forever within the matter of one single hour, perhaps irrevocably so. The next hour would also be crucial should secondary launches have occurred; that was their timeframe to impact without any intelligence to give them advanced warning. Should no secondary launches have taken place, despite that possibility with so many nuclear weapons already having being used simultaneously, the radioactive fallout would soon blanket the entire planet and continue to do its damage for decades to come.

  While this conversation took place in the darkness of the Control Room, Veronica was still watching over Erin in the hospital ward. Veronica McCreary, as daughter of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, knew full well what had happened; the worst-case-scenario which she’d often discussed with her father so many times over the years. Too many times to count it seemed. She always wished to push it out of her mind and continue on with her life, wishing to believe that the possibility of nuclear war was always there but not the inevitability of it. Erin, although not quite nine years old had been sheltered to this possibility as best she could by her parents Mitch and Anya. She was wide awake now following her surgery, and the subtle shaking of the room not only once but twice followed by the lights going out had completely shaken her to the core, and then the sound of rolling thunder continuing for such an extended period of time. She grabbed Veronica’s hand even tighter now and wouldn’t let go; just the fact of knowing she wasn’t alone was comforting in itself.

  Veronica wasn’t immune to the horror which she could only imagine had occurred on the surface of the planet. She thought of her friends at school; her boyfriend; her roommate; extended family on her mother’s side in all likelihood no longer alive. The only thing holding her together was the responsibility of looking after Erin, so for that sake alone she kept herself strong. There would always time to cry later. So in the darkness for that brief period of time prior to the lights returning Erin began her pointed questioning of Veronica.

  “Is there a storm? Is that why the lights are out and the thunder?” Erin asked in what could only be described as a whisper.

  Despite her age and to the best of Mitch and Anya’s attempts to shelter her, she had unmistakably inherited her parent’s innate intelligence. Veronica had to think very carefully before she replied and take this into consideration. She thought quickly, wondering if it was appropriate to tell Erin the truth or leave it up to her parent’s to do so; whether or not it was in her realm and would her response be within Mitch and Anya’s wishes. She decided to be honest; certainly this young girl knew quite a bit more than she led on. Earlier she had sensed, in fact knew the strength that lay within this young one, so in the darkness engulfing them Veronica decided on the truth peppered with a degree of optimism, if that was at all possible knowing what had just taken place. Erin’s requirement for strength also gave Veronica the inner strength she too required, and so she began.

  “No, little one, something terrible has happened,” Veronica said in all sincerity.

  “Is it the war?” Erin asked.

  Now Veronica was truly flabbergasted, but not overly surprised.

  “Yes, Erin, it’s the war that we’ve all been so worried about.”

  Erin pondered this for a moment before asking her next question.

  “Were very many people hurt, like I was?”

  “Yes, many many people were hurt.”

  That was the only response Veronica could muster, overwhelmed by the question and fighting to control her emotions.

  “And will we be ok, Veronica?”

  “I think so, dear. This will be our new home now and I think we’ll be safe here.”

  Without warning the lights suddenly came back to life, and Veronica could see a sadness on Erin’s face yet there were no tears.

  “Will you stay here with us, Veronica?”

  “I don’t think I’d rather be anywhere else,” she replied quietly.

  Veronica wasn’t quite sure what she was feeling. “Was she a surrogate mother? Perhaps an older sister?” She wondered silently.

  “That’s good, Veronica. I like you very much.”

  And with that Erin held Veronica’s hand slightly tighter. There were no more questions from Erin. They both sat there in silence while the simple comfort of not being alone was enough. Erin was glad she’d been told the truth, and Veronica realized she wouldn’t have responded any other way that she had.

  Back in the Control Room the discussion continued. President Andrew’s looked at his w
atch waiting for that window to pass. It was now 10pm on the west coast. Agreeing with Professor Enghult’s assessment, one hour more and in all likelihood it was over, at least for now. The President wondered what it was like on the surface so many feet above them, the United States now covered in complete darkness. He paced the room for a short time, glancing at the Conyers’ as he did so. Their services would be greatly needed in the very near future, but for now there was nothing more they could or needed to do.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Conyers,” President Andrews said, “You are excused for now. Professor Enghult, would you kindly remain.”

  Mitch and Anya were greatly relieved, and while they didn’t respond verbally to the President they both simply nodded as they rose from their chairs and approached the doorway. One of the two Secret Service Agents inside the room opened the door for them as they departed, and with those few words from the President they were on their way to the hospital to see to their daughter’s condition. After the Conyers’ left, the President turned sternly to Professor Enghult.

  “Professor, you withheld information from me regarding the bunker systems. I agree with your assumption that if we don’t experience any further nuclear impacts within the next hour, it is unlikely that we shall have any more for the time being. So now, I want you to tell me everything about the bunker systems’ structural integrity as well as all relevant information you did not disclose prior to this point.”

  Enghult didn’t flush at the President’s stern admonition; he was too professional for that.

  “Mr. President, my apologies and I shall not neglect to keep you fully informed down to the minutest of details in the future.”

  President Andrews was placated by Enghult’s response. He’d had Senators, Congressmen, and Leaders of State cower before him when he decided to put his mind to it. Some of the Joint Chiefs were taken aback that their input, at least for the moment, wasn’t requested by the President yet none cared to voice their opinion under the current mood expressed by their Commander-in-Chief.