Chapter 50
MOSCOW, RUSSIA
Ex-colonel (now General) Perminov slowly rested his head in his hands as he sat at his desk in the Kremlin. A military officer stood at attention in front of him, anxiety etched across his face.
Perminov slowly raised his head to face the officer.
"How many survivors?" he whispered.
"Not enough." responded the officer.
"Who did it?"
"We don't know, but probably an extreme Muslim separatist group. But that's not our main problem, sir."
Perminov stared at the officer.
"How could it possibly get worse? The Chinese just got nuked!"
"We think it was the Loyalists who gave the terrorists the bomb."
Perminov sighed.
"Ok, that's definitely worse. One of the nuclear units in Siberia that we don't control? The Navy? We don't have them yet."
"Maybe, sir. Strangest thing- our contacts in Urumqi said there was a firefight between Chinese special forces and, of all things, South African commandos. The Chinese unit was killed by the South Africans, and when police arrived on the scene they also found a truck full of dead Muslim terrorists, including Osama bin Laden, some Uighurs, some more Arabs, and a couple of Chechens."
"That can't be possible. What would the South Africans be doing..." Perminov leaned back and his eyes widened. "Oh. Fuck."
"Sir?" the officer said, suddenly even more worried.
"Is the Dead Hand device switched off?"
"The Loyalists control that, sir."
"Oh... Evacuate the major cities. Mobilize all the reserves. Distribute emergency resources. Warn the UN. Do it! Now!"
"Warn the UN of what? Sir, I'm so confused."
Perminov stood up and put his hands on the desk.
"We've been had. Get my car ready. We're getting the hell out of Moscow."
WASHINGTON D.C., UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
President Bill Clinton sat at his desk and stared at the reports. Numbers. Numbers of the dead, the wounded, the missing.
An aide entered the room.
"Mr. President, you have a phone call. It's General Perminov, the Russian Nationalist Party leader."
Clinton sighed. "I know who he is. Thank you."
The aide ducked out of the room.
The president lifted the phone from his cradle.
"President Clinton speaking."
"Hello, Mr. President. This is General Yuri Perminov. I assume you know who I am?"
"Of course."
"Good. I have called you to warn you."
Clinton sighed.
"Warn me of what?"
"All of this that's happening? The bomb in China, the civil war here in Russia, the secular revolution in Tehran? This is going to sound crazy, but it's not all random. It's the South Africans. They're behind it all. Not the government, per se, but a cabal within that consists of some of the old behind-the-scenes G-Men from the apartheid era along with some rather devious Wizards."
The President leaned back in his leather chair. It creaked. He ran a hand through his graying hair.
"Apartheid G-Men Wizards? Is that a hardcore post-punk band or a real thing?" he said incredulously.
"Mr. President, please take my words seriously. Even if you don't believe me about the South Africans, I must warn you that I do not have control of the Dead Hand fail-safe system. If a nuclear attack strikes Russia, there is nothing I can do to stop the system from activating and sending thousands of nuclear missiles at Europe and the United States. I have attempted to warn the Loyalists, but they are too hostile. Please head this warning. I beg you!"
"There's not much I can do, even if you're telling the truth. I can't evacuate the cities or anything, I don't have that kind of power. This is America, not some backwards shithole dictatorship. We have a thing called 'freedom' here. All I can do is raise the threat-warning level and warn our defense systems."
Perminov's angry sigh was audible even through the shoddy phone connection.
"Fine. If that's how you want to play it. Mr. President, I wish you and your people good luck in the coming storm. Goodbye."
He hung up.
Clinton stared at the phone, then set it down.
"What a lunatic."
He sat at the desk for a minute. Then he picked up the phone again.
"Mr. Thompson? Yes, could you send Ms. Lewinsky in? I need to, uh, talk to her about, some, uh, reports and stuff. Yes... Thank you."
HUZHOU, PEOPLE'S REPUBLIC OF CHINA
General Zhao Guojun slammed down the phone and glared at the two minor officers in front of him. They cringed backwards from his frothing rage.
"Those motherfuckers! Burn them all!" he shrieked in anger.
One of the officers steadied himself.
"What's happening, sir?"
General Guojun attempted to calm himself before responding.
"Beijing just got nuked by those goddamn Muslim bastards! And to make matters worse, apparently I'm next in the line of succession. I command the entire fucking country! I've been declared the official provisional leader until the Communist Party can hold an election!"
The officer's jaws dropped.
"But I'm not gonna let those Party bastards screw everything up again! They're too weak to do what is necessary. Write a declaration- anyone belonging to the Chinese Communist Party is now an enemy of the state. They let this happen to my country, and I will not forgive them. Add to the report that the Uighurs are also declared enemies. The entire race. And the Pakistanis who undoubtedly let them have the Bomb. I want to see blood spilled in righteous vengeance!"
Guojun stared at the two officers.
"Muster the troops. I want them ready to move in six hours. As of right now I am declaring the country in a state of war. And get some real aides in here, you two are the worst."
TEHRAN, IRAN
Golshifteh Farahani sat at an outdoor cafe in a posh neighborhood of the city. She pored over the pages of a worn old manuscript she had found the other day in the dusty recesses of an old library.
A distant boom of thunder echoed across the city. Most people left it unheeded and continued about their business.
Golshifteh looked up at the sky. Dark clouds were gathering over the mountains to the East.
"All our idols fed the dogs on broken wishes that they stole." she recited the words she had just read in her book, "They called it love and culled the weak, tired Earth..."
She quickly stood up, stuffed the book into her satchel, and sprinted back home.