The cameraman got about five yards, a swinging blade from the trees cleaving his chest open as blood spurted across the emerging black armoured plate, ribs and backbone shattering as the body was propelled backwards, the beast pouncing on it and tearing flesh from the shattered frame, a heaving gasp the last sound from the bloodied corpse as it disintegrated.
Chapter Nine: A Russian Response
Near Saratov, deep inside Russian territory
The Spetsnaz senior intelligence officer stared at the flickering and diminishing images before him in disbelief, a KGB commander rising in dread beside him, communication lines disappearing before their eyes as the screens on the opposite wall flickered. Cold adrenalin swept up his spine as he realised the recently issued official emergency protocol that had just been activated, his knowledge of the outside world diminishing and then disappearing completely as the images died before the two men, the only illumination in the small room now from desk lamps.
Operators in the seats below frantically attempted to regain connections across Russia, rerouting communications around now silent and destroyed fibre optic cabling, some raising their hands in frustrated or resigned defeat as they stared at non-responsive displays. Static horizontal lines surged across the numerous screens throughout the control centre, the KGB officer turning to his colleague in dread, ‘Comrade…the time has come for us to act. Moscow must have been destroyed for this meltdown to happen…we will be next. We know what we must do.’
The Special Forces intelligence commander nodded grimly, raising his voice across the underground command centre, ‘Call in the other watch commanders…attempt to re-establish contact with the other outside bunkers…we move to protocol one…establish the targets. All special forces and garrison troops to protect the blast doors and hidden entrances.’ He nervously grinned briefly in reassurance for the observing eyes of startled operators staring up at him through virtual darkness, glancing back at his colleague, ‘Always remember my friend, you no longer exist to the outside world…any communications must come from me or a government official, the Americans must never suspect the KGB still has ultimate power here…you were disbanded in the eyes of the world.’
His friend grinned sheepishly, shrugging, ‘What matters now is that I present myself as Dimitri? Just someone to talk to will reassure the Americans…’ He grinned widely, seeing his companion’s irritation and shrugging, ‘…don’t worry, I will report as the Interior Ministry spokesman. I don’t know why we are continuing this façade…they never believed us anyway about disbanding the KGB.’ He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, indicating to one of his own staff grimly, ‘We will establish a link as soon as possible…you may wish to prepare yourself…I want assistance with any demanding questions.’
A Presidential Bunker Briefing
‘Yellowstone Park, Mr President. That will then be the end of the human race.’ The intelligence officer lowered his head in regret, coughing nervously, ‘The enemy’s firepower is too great…and we are severely weakened militarily. If they target this National Park and its weak surface crust with their weaponry, then the subsequent volcanic and geothermal reaction will spew lava and a poisoned dust cloud high into the atmosphere.’ The exhausted middle aged government official seemed to even claw at his brow in rising stress, his suit coated in dust as an unshaven jaw stiffened, ‘Within days the United States will become isolated from the heat of the sun, the temperature will drop dramatically…people and life will begin to die as the pollution and cold destroys their bodies.’ He drew a deep breath, his body swaying in weariness, ‘Then this will spread further, across the globe…we believe the enormous volcano will be become continually active from what we have already experienced from the devastating power of their initial blast…the damage will be just too deep into the earth’s core for the planet to recover in a form to save or preserve human, animal or the life of vegetation…any ultimately damned survivors will then slowly be deprived of oxygen…and food.’
Fifteen figures sat in demoralised silence, staring up ominously at the reporting officer stood at the end of the table, the man running a shaking hand through his dishevelled hair, the secure briefing room adjacent to the main control centre beneath the Blue Ridge mountains in Virginia. The pin lights in the ceiling flickered briefly, underground generators surging in power to compliment the struggling outer power grid, several people glancing upwards nervously before shaking their heads.
The President of the United States raised his arms in ultimate weary exasperation, several secret service agents stepping forward briefly in alarm as the assembled government, Senate and Congress representatives across the large table strained their eyes. Forcing a grin, he nodded to the officer at the end of the table, ‘Well, that was a report…and not one I liked.’
The leader sighed deeply, glancing up at the darkened blank screens on the wall before them in the deep underground bunker, ‘So we are ultimately defeated…it’s only a matter of time. We have lost contact with Moscow…initial reports from the Germans and British indicate complete destruction of the Russian capital…intelligence assuming they will resort to emergency protocols that have been pre-written unless receiving additional interim instructions.’ His drained eyes dropped in alarm before widening and rising suddenly, voice rising in realisation, ‘Oh God…the Russians, they could launch…everything!’
Joint Communication
One of the screens before them suddenly flared with static, the distant signal diverted through Volgograd and then Kiev before underground boosted fibre optic cables through the Balkans, southern Germany, France and then finally Great Britain to cross the Atlantic Ocean. The US president whispered to one of his officers
