Extermination Day

by William Turnage

  When Daniella fell silent, Jeff turned back to the screen.

  Head low, she walked out of the daycare center, back down the hallway, out to the main lobby of the facility and right out the front door, still holding her baby. And she just kept moving. The video feed in the parking lot showed her leaving the base and walking slowly, methodically, down the highway and off into the rising sun.

  Jeff and the others watched her leave. No one said a word.

  Chapter 12

  7:30 am EST, January 16, 2038

  Greenbrier Resort

  “Hrumph!” grunted Paulson. “General Wang was direct and to the point. Do you think the Chinese are bluffing?”

  “It’s hard to tell with those avatars, sir,” Farrow said. “But I really don’t know what to believe now. If not the Chinese, then who? The Russians?”

  “Any thoughts, General?”

  Rowan’s torso popped back up on the holo.

  “We simply need more time to figure that out, sir. But now we need to turn our attention toward what we need to do next. And that’s to get this virus out of the atmosphere.”

  “And how do you propose we do that?” Paulson asked.

  “The CDC believes that they can render the mechanical components of the virus inert using an electromagnetic pulse. The EMP will prevent the virus from communicating and from targeting human DNA. This technique should work on a small scale, but the virus has saturated the air around us. That means in order to truly eradicate it, we need to cover a large area with an EMP blast. The only way to do this is by using multiple high-altitude nuclear explosions.”

  Paulson and Farrow looked at each other in disbelief.

  “To add to our problems, these detonations would have to take place at exactly the same time and be coordinated at precise locations around the world. If one area were left open, uncovered by the EMP blast, then the virus would still be alive and keep spreading. The supercomputer here at NORAD is running simulations to determine the best locations, altitudes, and yield level for the nuclear detonations.”

  He turned away but almost immediately turned back.

  “Mr. President, the other problem, if we decide to go with this option, is the damage that the EMP detonations would cause to our electronics. The high altitude of the blasts would limit the amount of nuclear fallout, but the gamma ray bursts and EMP would be maximized. As a result, almost all electronic devices both civilian and military would be destroyed. Their circuits would be fried. Nothing would work—not cars, planes, factories, not computers, not any type of communication device. We would be blasting the entire planet back to the Stone Age.”

  “But we would rid the planet of this virus, and those of us left alive would not be infected?” Farrow asked.

  “That’s correct. We’d be alive, those that have been able to survive. But our civilization would basically have to start over. Living conditions would be as they were a thousand years ago.”

  “Does the CDC think there’s any possibility of this virus dying on its own over a certain time period?” Paulson asked. Now that he had time to think, the questions were speeding furiously through his mind.

  “No, sir, they don’t. They think it’ll be around for centuries, if not millennia. They’ve already started seeing some of their test viruses reverting to the dormant spore stage they were in when they were in the dust cloud in space. In that stage they survived the extremes of a space vacuum and atmospheric entry, which means they can easily survive for a long, long time here on Earth. We can’t wait it out. Our only option to truly eradicate the virus is to use the high-altitude nuclear EMPs all over the planet.”

  A nuclear strike of that magnitude would be a horrible and devastating thing, Paulson imagined. Even though Rowan claimed little to no nuclear fallout would reach the ground, Paulson wasn’t so sure. They could just be trading one horror for another. If the virus didn’t kill them, the nuclear radiation would. And then there was the issue of having no working electronics. Paulson could get by without Stream access to reruns of Bootah Call, but his horse-riding and sword-fighting skills were a little rusty, as were his farming-with-stone-tools skills.

  Then there was the whole issue of leaving the entire United States defenseless. If the Chinese or Russians were behind this whole thing, they would have likely upgraded their electronics to make them less vulnerable to an EMP blast. That would leave them with functioning planes and tanks to invade what was left of the U.S.

  “How quickly would we be able to do this?” he asked.

  “The nuclear silos are prepped and ready to go, sir,” Rowan replied. “We have more than enough warheads to accomplish the task. As soon as the calculations are complete, we can start the countdown, given your permission, of course. The calculations for the strike are extremely complex. The AI must take into account existing atmospheric conditions, prevailing winds, variations in the Earth’s magnetic field, the expected blast radius and kiloton yield of the various warheads we have in stock, and numerous other factors. If we get this wrong and the warheads are detonated at the wrong altitude or the wrong place and time, then either the virus will survive or virus survivors will be killed by the nuclear blast.”

  “What about other governments around the world? Have you been able to contact anyone?” Paulson asked. Before he fired off any nuclear weapons, he needed to get a buy-in from other leaders, if any were left.

  “The Brazilians have a remote outpost in the Amazon, where several government officials seem safe for the time being. They agree that an EMP strike is the best option.”

  Rowan tapped his screen, leaned close, and then resumed his strict posture.

  “Russia has two outposts remaining in the Arctic Circle and Siberia with limited capabilities. We’ve advised them of our planned EMP strike, and they are adamantly opposed. They say they can develop a vaccine for the virus, given time.”

  “Of course they can.” Paulson said sarcastically.

  “Sir?”

  He waved a hand in front of his screen. “Continue, General.”

  “The Canadians also have several outposts in the Arctic Circle with limited governmental authority. They’ll support whatever we decide. Also in support are the Norwegians, who have a base at Svalbard, and the Argentineans, who have an underground facility in Patagonia. The Indians and Pakistanis both have bases in the Himalayas, but I’m not sure what type of governmental authority they have. Whoever is in charge there is opposed to any type of nuclear action. I haven’t been able to contact any other governments at this time. Everything is just too chaotic. That’s not to say they aren’t alive, however, and just trying to get organized.”

  “So, General, other than the Chinese, the Russians seem to be the greatest opposition to a nuclear strike. Do you think that they can develop a vaccine?”

  “I don’t know, sir. They have advanced medical facilities.”

  “Have the CDC coordinate with them. I want the entire world working on this. Now is not the time to play territorial politics. If we were to launch the nuclear strike, what will the Russians do?”

  “Mr. President, SEER has run prediction simulations which have them launching a low-altitude nuclear strike against us, which would destroy most of the U.S.”

  SEER, the computer program designed to predict the outcome of future events, was only in its infancy, but was still surprisingly accurate for many situations. However, it seemed to break down when events became increasingly interwoven and complex. Also, when there was a high level of human involvement, SEER predictions had a much lower success rate. It seemed that people were real wildcards, unpredictable and highly illogical and emotional in their decision-making. Paulson grunted. Big surprise there.

  “Sir, the CDC tells me that a cure for this virus will take weeks, if not months, to develop, if we can even develop one at all.” Rowan said. “By that time, everyone on the surface of the planet will be dead. Those few of us in research labs and bases underground or under the ocean will be too few to repo
pulate the planet. The human race will die off. The EMP strike is our only real option and it has to be done within the hour, otherwise it’ll be too late.”

  “I need time to think about this, General Rowan. Please call me again when the strike calculations are complete and you’re ready to launch. I’ll have my decision then. In the meantime, if everyone could please give me some privacy, I have a message to send.”

  Farrow looked at him a bit strangely, but left the room without saying anything. When he was gone Paulson said, “Computer, put me in contact with Dr. Patrick Chen at Project Chronos. Private, encrypted channel, please.”

  Paulson had learned about Chronos when he was Secretary of Defense in the last administration. Paulson hadn’t believed time travel was possible until he went to the base personally and met with Dr. Chen, who showed him what the machine they’d built could do and explained the complex workings of the device. Very few others in the government knew the project existed. Paulson had never mentioned it to President Diaz, so he doubted even he knew about it.

  A few minutes later the doctor’s face appeared on the holo.

  “Hello, Patrick. I trust that you’ve received the latest data on the virus.”

  “Yes, Mr. President. The hard drive we’re preparing is being updated in real time as the information is collected by the Chronos mainframe. When you give the word, we’ll be ready to send the drive back along with two chrononauts.”

  “Good. Have you decided who's going back yet?

  "I have one of the candidates but I'm still deciding on the other."

  Paulson nodded his head. "I need you to send something else back as well.”

  Chen frowned and pursed his lips.

  “I know sending the drive and the people back will give us some warning about this attack, but I feel I need a contingency plan as well. There are too many unknowns with this crisis. So I want you to send one of the latest cutting-edge portables back, complete with a neural AI and predictive algorithms. Then attach that to an auto-drone, one that is capable of flying long distances. I'll send its flight coordinates as well. I have a video that I made on Air Force One that I want played when the portable is first accessed. And I need you to code it to open with my fingerprint only.”

  “So you’re sending a message back to yourself. Clever. How far back should it go? We need to make sure we have enough fuel for the next jump with the other drive and the chrononauts as well.”

  “I’m sending you that information now, encoded. We’ve had a security breach here and there may be spies elsewhere, including at Project Chronos. No one should see it but you, and you must conduct the time jump for the device in secrecy as well. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll have it ready to go immediately. When should I send it?”

  “Send it as soon as you have enough fuel. Patrick, we’re doing everything we can here, but at this point Project Chronos may be our only hope. Don’t fail us.”

  “I won’t, Mr. President. You can count on me.”

  Chen signed off, and Paulson spent the next few minutes updating and organizing his video and all of the data they had on the virus and Project Chronos. He also decided to include historical news archives. When he was done, he sent it.

  “I hope that works,” he muttered to himself.

  “Computer, get General Rowan back.”

  Rowan popped up on the holo.

  “General, I want to talk to the Russians and see what they have on the virus. Can you link me in?”

  “Yes, sir. I have Sergey Emli . . . ”

  The video feed of General Rowan faded and static filled the holo.

  “General, are you there? You’re breaking up,” Paulson said. “What’s wrong with this thing?” He tapped a button. “Theobald, we just lost the feed in here.”

  “I know, sir,” Theobald said through the intercom from the next room. “We lost the satellite feed. I’m going to reroute through another satellite connection. Wait, what the hell? Mr. President, I think you should come out here.”

  Paulson left the private suite where he’d had been talking remotely with Rowan and the Chinese General Jung Wang and entered the main control room of the bunker. Several people were standing behind Chad Theobald, who was frantically sliding hands and fingers across several windows, opening and closing them in rapid succession.

  “We have a security breach here in the base,” Theobald said, panic rising in his voice. “Someone just broadcasted a coded signal from this location.”

  “What do you mean we sent a signal?” Paulson snapped, his worst fears about their spy being alive now confirmed. “Where, what did it say?”

  “It was encrypted using some type of code I’ve never seen before. It looks like the signal came from one of these terminals and went up to one of our communications satellites. I just sat down and I’m the only one working here, so it must have been coded to automatically go out at this time. I can’t tell exactly where the signal went after bouncing off the satellite.”

  Paulson thought for a second that Theobald could be the spy. He was an outside government contractor, after all, and could have been compromised. Plus he was working on Air Force One’s servers, giving him security access to areas where a bomb could have been placed.

  “Travis, are you confirming this?” Paulson asked the man sitting at the terminal beside Theobald. He was a Pentagon analyst that Paulson knew was trustworthy.

  “It’s just like he says, sir. Wait, a large section of our satellite grid just went out. I’m not sure what happened. Satellites are going down all over the place. We have no control over much of the network.”

  “What about ground-based communications through cell towers?” Demetrius asked. He stood just behind Paulson.

  “Rerouting,” Theobald said, flicking through more screens. “They’re nonoperational as well. Everything is being disrupted by some sort of electromagnetic field, originating from . . . This says from multiple locations above the planet.”

  “What the hell could that be?” Paulson asked. “Is there a way to get a visual to see if there are weapons satellites firing on us or, God forbid, a detonation of some type causing this disturbance? Could the Chinese or Russians have already initiated a nuclear strike?”

  There was the real possibility that the crazy General Wang decided he was going to attack the U.S. while he had the chance. Paulson was also terrified that they could be under attack by a rogue government. With so many leaders and government officials dead, there was no telling who was running the countries around the world. Or even whether countries were still in existence.

  “I don’t know what it could be, sir. Damn it, all our satellites are offline now,” Theobald said frantically. “Oh, wait, one just came back on. But . . . The configuration is all wrong. I can’t make sense of this code.”

  Huge amounts of data flashed rapidly across the screen at Theobald’s terminal.

  “We’re being hacked!” Demetrius said. “Cut this line. Quick! They’re getting everything!”

  “There is no line, sir. Everything is wireless and mostly housed on a centralized server in the main government cloud in Washington,” Travis told him. “It looks like they tapped into that and are downloading the entire database at an astonishing speed.”

  Theobald and Travis tried several times to move data screens up and out of the way and to access the system with keyboard commands, all to no avail. After several minutes of data flashing across his screen, Theobald pushed his chair back and threw his hands up in frustration.

  “There’s nothing I can do here. I’m completely locked out. Even if I turn the computer off, they still have a link into the GovCloud through the satellite.”

  Paulson checked his portable to see if there was any Stream access at all. Nothing. Everything seemed to be down now, even ground-based communication towers. He knew what that meant: retrieve data from the enemy, cut communications, then come in for the attack. It was a strategy employed in modern warfare campaigns thr
oughout the world. Paulson knew what was coming next, and there was little they could do about it.

  The computer screen went blank.

  “They’re coming,” Paulson said.

  A thunderous boom shook the room. Dust and small pieces of concrete fell from the ceiling.

  Paulson looked at Farrow with knowing eyes. Farrow nodded, lips firm, back rigid, fists clenched. Paulson felt the bile building in the back of his throat. His heart started to pound. His senses heightened. His muscles tensed as the blood pumped through the veins of his old body.

  The battle was at hand.

  Chapter 13

  8:30 am local time, January 16, 2038

  Project Chronos

  Jeff passed his physical with flying colors. He stayed in good shape by running, lifting weights, and playing basketball a couple of days each week. While in the MedLab, he was also able to get his broken nose reset and although it had stopped hurting physically, Jeff’s pride still smarted. He couldn't figure out how a seventy-something skinny old man could have gotten the best of him.

  A short time later, when he was back in the cafeteria, he received word from Chen that there were no other viable candidates and, if he still wanted to do it, Jeff would be the other chrononaut. He took in a long, deep breath, thinking of his kids, and accepted without a murmur.

  After the horrible tragedy with the scientist and her baby, he was more determined than ever to go back in time and change their fate. He now knew that the whole disaster was real. Deathly real. There’d been no hacking of the Stream or fake videos from the Chinese. The virus was all around them and it was killing everyone.

  Normally Jeff would be excited about the adventure he was about to embark on, making history as one of the first time travelers. He would be Neil Armstrong, Columbus, and Marco Polo rolled into one. But the tragedies of the past twelve hours had taken their toll. He’d lost everyone and everything he’d ever known. The United States had been cavalierly destroyed by an unidentified terrorist force or hostile foreign government, one that had brought the fight to them. They’d been blindsided, and Jeff was reeling.