“Hyuk, move.” He stepped aside wordlessly. “What could you three possibly be arguing about?”
The copilot turned to her. “We are debating whether to be higher in the atmosphere or lower to the ground.”
“What?”
“The missiles will impact in approximately…” He turned to look at one of the myriad of gauges, gadgets, and baubles on the dashboard. “I estimate two, maybe three minutes, madam.”
“So, what’s the argument?” she demanded.
“Major Hosseini wants to go higher for faster speed,” the copilot replied. “I want to stay lower to the ground to avoid the potential EMP from the missiles.”
“Go higher, you idiots,” Kasra replied instantly, the action already decided in her mind. The pilot immediately began ascending into the sky. “The farther we can get away, the less likely it is that we’ll be affected by an EMP. If we do get hit with one and lose power, being higher in the air will give you two more time to react and hopefully steer us toward a landing spot.”
She turned and walked back toward her seat. “Champagne. Now,” she told the stewardess. “I want to have a glass in my hand before I sit down.”
The stewardess was not quite as fast as she’d demanded, but it was close enough that Kasra didn’t feel the need to rebuke her. She took a sip, allowing the liquid to glide down her throat. She felt like she needed to drink the entire bottle to relax her nerves.
The world outside her window went from dark and dreary to a fiery orange as the nukes hit Pyongyang. That idiot, Kim, had said they were twenty-four kilometers away from the palace in Pyongyang. Had they gotten far enough away? She watched out the window as more explosions blossomed at various points behind them.
The plane flew smoothly for thirty or forty seconds, then bucked and shook violently as the shockwave from the blasts hit them. Kasra held onto her glass of champagne temporarily, spilling most of it before the glass finally tumbled from her grasp and she had to cling to the armrest or risk falling along with the glass.
There were alarm bells and flickering lights. Everything was a blur. The plane struggled to stay aloft.
Then, it settled and the jet evened out. Cheers erupted from the cockpit and she allowed a wicked smile to curve across her face. Allah had spared her life once again. He still had a purpose for her. She would personally oversee the destruction of the infidels who’d destroyed her homeland and tried to kill her.
“Seon.”
“Yes, madam?” The big man sounded as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
“Tell the pilots to set a course for either Alaska or Hawaii, I don’t care which. We will need to land and refuel. Then, we link up with our forces in America and destroy our enemies once and for all.”
“Yes, madam.”
He stood and made his way past the stewardess, who stepped aside to let him pass. When he was beyond her, the young lady walked to Kasra with a new flute of champagne.
“Very good,” Kasra remarked, grasping the girl’s hand when she took the glass. “Very good indeed. Bring the bottle and meet me in the bedroom.”
“Ma’am?”
“I will have to take out my frustrations upon you,” she said, eying the girl. “Do not worry, little one. You’ll like it.”
Kasra stalked toward the back of the plane where she had her bedchambers. Outside, the world burned. Almost as much as her desire for the girl walking haltingly behind her.
33
LIBERAL, KANSAS
MARCH 11TH
It took Sidney and Mark much longer than she’d anticipated to reach the Iranian facility at the airport. The infected seemed to be everywhere. Maybe it was the warmer weather, or maybe they were still amped up by the events at the outpost. She didn’t know. Whatever it was, it had restricted their movement to an annoyingly slow pace.
Vern said this had been a mild winter, but the infected hadn’t fared well over that time. Many of them were naked, or nearly so, and they stayed outside as best as she could tell. They didn’t seem to notice the blackened, dead fingers or the weeping, oozing sores. She knew they ate and drank, and that their bodies still functioned more or less like a regular person, so how were they able to shrug off the injuries and the sickness?
Sidney sighed. These were the things she had to think about while they waited, deep inside the cover of a small group of spruce trees, for yet another patrol to drive by the fence line. The Iranians didn’t seem to be taking any chances. They had a vehicle circling the airport’s perimeter every thirty minutes or so to ensure that there were no breaches and that everything appeared normal.
Sidney and Mark had watched the base for hours to get a feel for how the operation ran. The Iranians seemed very concerned with the perimeter, but not a lot else. Soldiers inside didn’t try to keep their movements hidden from passing infected and didn’t appear to have any sort of real purpose as they lounged around in the afternoon sun. Now that night was upon them, all of the soldiers had disappeared inside the terminal. They wouldn’t get a better shot at completing their mission.
“Are we doing this?” Mark asked, sensing the time for action was almost upon them.
“Yeah. I’m ready.” The closeness of the spruce, which had grown together over the years made Sidney feel claustrophobic. She could barely move and their body heat was more than enough to keep them warm. In fact, Sidney was soaked through with sweat from the ordeal and probably smelled as bad as one of
