The name itself was not uncommon, and the early manifests were full of such listings, stressing the family ties of the proposed rescuees instead of their actual names.
The bomb had been more of a stunt than a viable weapon, so grossly oversized that it could only be carried by a specially retro‚tted tactical bomber. October 30, 1961. They’d detonated a ‚fty-megaton hydrogen bomb on an ice-capped strip of land above the Arctic Circle. By comparison, modern warheads ranged in yield from one megaton submarine-launched ‚rst strike missiles to ten megaton ICBMs.
Ulinov was both a patriot and a student of his country’s rise to prominence. He’d caught the entry on the manifest that American analysts apparently had not, because he was certain of a double cross. Perhaps the Americans were too focused on their own rebels. Besides, the generations-old test was mostly remembered by its code name, “Ivan,” or the nickname “Tsara Bomba,” the Emperor’s Bomb.
He could not gloat. Instead, he felt pity. Leadville had transformed some of the nearby old mines into command bunkers, and Ulinov believed there was also new digging and underground construction here in town…but it would make no difference.
The 1961 ‚reball had been seen farther than six hundred miles away, lifting nearly thirty-three thousand feet from sea level. The seismic shock was measurable even on its third passage around the Earth. To limit fallout, because most of the drift was across Russian Siberia, the bomb had used lead tampers instead of the more typical uranium-238. Ulinov assumed this device would be similarly modi‚ed. Land had become far too precious to contaminate hundreds of surrounding miles.
This was the ‚nal gambit. The Russians had been bled down to cold, savage veterans poised too long on the brink of annihilation, a stateless population of warriors with one chance at eradicating the only superpower left in the world. The plane must be carrying the largest warhead they’d been able to pry out of their abandoned stockpiles — or more likely several warheads — because a missile launch would have been detected and answered in kind. Now it was too late.
* * * *
Ulinov fought them when the security unit tried to jam him into the truck after Kendricks. He wanted to feel the sky and the white mountains around him, no matter how foreign this place might be. He looked for the sun again — not the plane, but the warm, pleasant sun — as engines and shouts rose all around him. Radio static. The guns. It was the death-cry of a city.
For days, Ulinov had wrestled with his certainty and his fear, but he never tried to run. If he had, he would’ve alerted the Americans. But he hoped his people would understand. He knew what was coming.
He knew, and he stayed.
14
In California, Ruth †inched from the light in the east, an incandescent ripple like small suns popping suddenly in the morning haze. Three? Four?
“What the fuck was that!?” Alex screamed, and Samantha said, “Mike—”
“Aah!” Mike had twisted down onto one knee, clutching his face. By chance, he must have been gazing directly at the target when those man-made stars †ared upon the earth.
The enormity of it walked through her like a ghost and Ruth staggered, numb and senseless, and then Cam was there like always, shouldering through the group to catch her arm.
Hiroki moaned as Cam jostled by, a low noise like a dog. The others were also beginning to wake from their shock. Alex and Sam knelt to help Mike, but Newcombe was checking his watch and Ruth didn’t understand that at all.
“Mike! Oh my God, Mike!” Samantha cried.
Cam’s expression was ‚erce. “Are you okay?”
“What?”
“Look at me. Are you okay?” His brown eyes were intent and unguarded, and Ruth stared at him. The wind felt clean in her hair. She smelled pine trees and damp earth.
They had hiked down the eastern slope beneath the Scouts’ islands to give a send-off to Brandon and Mike, who planned to explore the nearest peaks across the thin valley, then return before showing themselves to anyone. D Mac was still undecided. The method for sharing the nanotech hadn’t helped. Mike thought it was cool, but even Brandon had hesitated at drinking from the splash of blood that Cam drew from his left hand.
Ruth had considered less gruesome ways. The nanotech was smaller than a virus and could be absorbed through the slightest imperfections in the skin. They should be able to pass the vaccine merely by rubbing their spit against the boys’ arms or with something as easy as a kiss, but they had to be certain. Smeared upon the boys’ skin, the vaccine might drift away or remain inert, and a kiss might only leave the thinnest trace to be exhaled and lost. Ingesting the blood was foolproof. The nanotech was also much hardier than a virus, so it was sure to survive their stomach acids and move into the bloodstream.
Still, drinking it was ugly. The boys were scared despite Cam’s encouragement, and Ruth had been bracing herself for his good-bye. He’d kept away from her all morning. He’d also brought his backpack. Cam and Newcombe agreed it was best to keep their weapons and gear with them at all times, no matter how much they liked the Scouts. Ruth had worn her own pack because of the data index, yet she could easily see how much Cam wanted to go east with Mike and Brandon. It would be very like him to attach himself to their task, offering his experience and his strength. He’d already given Mike his binoculars, two cigarette lighters, and a small amount of sterile gauze and disinfectant, equipping the boys as best he could.
Ruth’s terror was a huge weight and she re†exively pushed against Cam, trying to get past. He stiffened at her hands on his chest, misunderstanding. Then she felt the same bright fear transfer to him. There was a slanting pile of granite behind Cam and he pulled her toward it, using the rock as a blast shield.
“Here!” he shouted.
The others came after them, slow and dazed. “That was a nuke!” Alex yelled. “That had to be a nuke, right? They’re nuking each other!” The boy set Mike against a boulder and tugged Mike’s hands away from his wet face, trying to examine the damage. Brandon joined them and then Newcombe and D Mac. Ed directed Kevin and Hiroki into the safe space and everyone knelt down.
Even packed tightly together, they were a miniscule knot of lives and Ruth looked at the sky again with that quiet reaching feeling. Nothing had changed up there. A wisp of clouds ran on the breeze, impossibly calm.
Newcombe squeezed in beside Alex in front of Mike. “Open your eyes,” he said. “You have to open your eyes so we can see, kid.”
“I can’t,” Mike groaned.
Ruth laid her ‚ngers over the etched stone in her pocket. “Was that Utah?” she asked. “Where was that!?” The need in her voice made her ashamed, because that scorching light was a horrible thing to wish on anyone…but
