“I said we’re going to nuke the bastards. We’ll launch several at North Korea and Iran, England will launch at Iran. We’ll inform the UN Security Council after the missiles are in the air.”
“You can’t do that,” Neel protested. “Sir, think of the massive civilian casualties. The loss of life will be staggering—”
“I CAN do that. One of the main burdens of this office is being given the direct control of our nation’s nuclear arsenal. It is a terrible, but necessary power that I wield.” He paused for a beat before continuing. “You’re not going soft on me are you? Our nation is on the brink of complete annihilation because of what those people have done. If you’ve lost your spine, I’ll replace you and put someone in who can stomach the dirty work that comes with the job.”
There was another explosion at the Cheyenne Mountain Complex.
“I have not lost my will, sir. You know that I’ve always followed your orders explicitly. I’m prepared—”
“Good,” the president cut him off. “I’m not sure how much longer this place is going to last. I want to thank you for all that you and your team have done for our great nation. We gave you a shit sandwich and told you to eat it. Our scientists think we’ve turned a corner on this thing since the infected are dying off, starving, but we need you to keep it together there. We need you to keep our population alive long enough for the sickness to die out.”
“Of course, sir. I can send a strike force to your location within the hour.”
“Don’t bother. I’ve got a bunch of bombers inbound from Alaska. They’re gonna clear away these fuckers like ants.”
An alarm sounded from the Tandberg’s speakers. Men rushed in from behind the president and Neel could hear shouting. The camera jostled for a moment, then he was staring at a wall on the device’s screen. After a respectful thirty or forty seconds, the general asked, “Mr. President? Are you still there?”
There was no answer, but the alarms continued to wail in the background. Neel picked up the VTC device’s remote and ended the call. He carefully set it down in the cradle at the base of the monitor and took a deep, steadying breath before looking up to his staff sitting around the conference table.
“Okay,” he said, drawing out the word. “Thoughts?”
“It’s about damn time,” Dave Tovey replied. “We’ve known who the enemy was for months now.”
“We’ve known that they were our current enemy,” Dave Morales, the division headquarters chief of staff corrected. “But we didn’t have evidence that they were behind the cause of the infected until we went down to Brazil. I believe the president showed incredible restraint in choosing not to use our nuclear arsenal while we fought a conventional war with the Iranians.”
“And now that we have proof that they started this whole mess, we’re gonna turn their desert into glass. Good riddance,” the division operations officer huffed, leaning back in his chair and placing his hands on his stomach.
“Major Calamante,” Neel said to get the communications officer’s attention. “I need you to get Colonel McTaggert from Holloman on the horn. They have radar and access to satellite that we don’t have. We need to see what’s happening at Cheyenne Mountain.”
“Yes, sir.”
The signal officer stood and went into the adjoining room to make a few calls. “Okay, while he’s getting that set up, did somebody do the math? If the president and the Brits are launching at 7 p.m. Greenwich Mean Time, what time does that make it here?”
“We’re GMT minus seven, sir,” Major Blackledge, 1AD’s intelligence officer stated. “That means noon our time.”
Neel’s eyes drifted to the clock on the wall. It was 11:54.
“If Cheyenne Mountain got breached, would he authorize an early launch, sir?”
“I’m not sure what he’ll do, Todd,” Neel replied to the intelligence officer. “That’s why I want Colonel McTaggert on the line.”
The general looked back at the clock. It was still 11:54. No time had passed. He simply couldn’t believe that they were going to launch nukes. Memories of his childhood flashed through his mind as his school went through the ridiculous nuclear detonation drills—duck and cover, don’t look at the light! The weekly nuclear detonation drills were almost always interspersed with monthly lessons on nuclear fallout and what that could possibly mean for long-term survival. All that had stopped once the Berlin Wall came down, but what a crock of shit to feed a bunch of kids. Lay down flat with your head toward the blast, don’t look at the light, falling ash can kill you slowly over time… Why would they have subjected kids to that?
Because some self-important asshole is always holding the launch keys, Neel mused.
“Okay, sir,” Major Calamante said from the doorway. “I’ve got Colonel McTaggert’s people connecting him now. I’ll, uhh, bring it up on the big screen.”
“Good. Thank you, Juan.”
11:55.
The screen powered on, and Dan McTaggert’s face slowly brightened into view. “Good morning, sir. I guess it’s still morning, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.” Neel’s eyes went to the clock again. “Good morning, Dan. I’m calling you because I have a short notice request for you.”
“Sure thing, sir. What is it?”
“There’s no easy way to put this, so I’m just gonna tell you.” He paused and looked at the signal officer. “We’re secure, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Okay, Dan. The president is launching nukes at Iran in a few minutes. I—”
“Good Lord.”
“I know. He took the evidence that we provided after the mission to Brazil as a justification to wipe them off the face of the earth. He’s convinced the Brits to attack them as well, I guess it’s
