The Great and Terrible

by Chris Stewart

  * * *

  The nuclear flash illuminated the night, turning it into a brazen, white day. The light was unnaturally bright, like the surface of the sun, with tongues of white fire that flashed across the entire sky. Like a burst of stark lightning on the darkest night, the blazing strobe of nuclear power flashed, blinding and burning every eye that was unfortunate enough to see.

  The Israeli pilot was turning over his shoulder as he banked his aircraft to the north, and though he didn’t see the flash, he felt the piercing heat penetrating his eyes, as if a white-hot, burning needle had been jammed in his skull. Immediately blinded, he cried out in pain.

  Confused, terrified, he rubbed at his eyes. He heard his formation leader begin to call him, his panicked voice crying over the radio. Then the heat blast fell upon him, tearing his little fighter apart.

  The shock wave moved across the ground at the speed of sound, a wall of heat and energy that burned up or exploded everything in its path. Then the awesome wind followed, blowing out everything before it in a powerful explosion of superheated air that suddenly seemed to reverse itself and fall back to fill the vacuum that was left from the nuclear fireball.

  Across the ghettos and slums and neighborhoods of Gaza, the nuclear explosion destroyed everything. There was fire and heat and nuclear radiation. There were crumbled buildings, burning rubble, and melted concrete and steel. Pain and death were everywhere.

  From ground zero to four miles out from the core of the explosion, only a few were left alive. From four to seven miles out, most were burned or radiated beyond what they could survive. From eight miles out, the devastation was survivable, but 120,000 humans lay dead or dying inside the ring of fire.

  The mushroom cloud rolled up into the night sky, an orange-and-red fireball that seemed to churn and boil and feed on itself, growing larger and more violent as it climbed into the upper atmosphere. The flash of white light and the burning fireball could be seen for hundreds of miles, each sign announcing the change of times to the world.

  White House Situation Room

  Washington, D.C.

  The radar picture from the American AWACS circling over the Mediterranean Sea suddenly collapsed on itself, seeming to suck into a small dot at the middle of the screen before it snapped and disappeared. The image was replaced by noisy static, and the members of the White House national security team seemed to pause and take a breath as one. A couple of them turned to each other and shrugged their shoulders. The watch supervisor sitting behind a glass-enclosed cubicle at the back of the room pressed a button under his desk, calling on the IT staff. The screen had blown a fuse, he figured, and he needed an immediate replacement.

  General Brighton stood without moving, staring at the blank screen, a sinking feeling in his gut.

  The president turned to the vice president. “What happened to our picture?” he asked.

  The vice president looked concerned and confused, then reached for a button on the communications panel directly in front of him. But before he could do anything, the room was filled with a panicked voice that was filled with fear and cold dread. “Bull’s-eye, this is Falcon,” the pilot called before his voice was swallowed in static.

  “Who the devil is Falcon?” the president demanded.

  The vice president leaned toward him. “Falcon is the call sign for the AWACS reconnaissance aircraft flying over the Mediterranean Sea.”

  “What does he—”

  The president stopped talking when the AWACS pilot started broadcasting again. “Bull’s-eye, this is Falcon. We’ve got . . . fire . . . into the sky!”

  The president hesitated. What was he talking about? He jammed his finger against the broadcast button on the communications pod. “Falcon, what are you saying?” he demanded in a sharp voice.

  “Bull’s-eye. We’ve had . . . explosion over the Gaza Strip. Repeat, we’ve . . . nuclear fireball. It looks like . . . holy . . . ” The pilot’s voice trailed off, crackling with the static that was building from the electromagnetic disturbance in the upper atmosphere. “It looks like,” his voice came back after a moment of white noise, “it looks like the Israelis have just nuked all of Gaza. And half of Egypt as well!”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The world sat in stunned and breathless silence for almost a day. Shock. Trauma. Terror. The emotions boiled high. Like a man who’d been shot, the world seemed to look down in surprise, astonished to see the blood begin to seep from his chest. The pain would come, but it was slow, the shock keeping the anguish at bay.

  Rescue operations were sluggish and cumbersome, for the area was so radiated that it was impossible to work. The dead remained in the streets and in the gutters. Without assistance, the sick and the injured started dying, and the stench of rot filled the air.

  Devastation and destruction. More than 120,000 dead. Five thousand more had died in the first day alone.

  Israel pleaded with the world, declaring her innocence. “We did not do it! We did not do it!” But no one believed her. The evidence was before them and it was crystal clear. Everyone had seen what had happened. It was too obvious to deny. The Jews had been desperate. They had acted. And now they had to pay the price. A hundred twenty thousand dead and dying Palestinians could simply not be denied.

  The president of the United States made a quick statement, begging for a calm and measured response to the attack. “We don’t really know what happened,” he declared to the world. “We must be patient. We must be careful. We must not condemn until we know. And we will stand by our ally until we know who to blame. Israel is our closest friend and our most important ally in the region, and we will not desert them until we have proof they are responsible for the attack.”

  But everyone knew that was what the U.S. president would say, and no one was listening. They were through listening to him now.

  The first world leader to speak after the U.S. president was the Secretary-General of the U.N. The lead diplomat stood before the General Assembly in an emergency meeting, his white hair shining brightly under the television lights. His voice rose and fell with emotion. He was on key, a perfect delivery, indignant and full of self-righteousness. “What we have just witnessed,” the Secretary-General began, “is nothing but genocide. Ethnic cleansing and vile hatred of the very worst kind! Not since the last century has our planet, our home, been polluted by a nuclear device. Not since the closing days of World War II have so many innocent people died. How many guiltless Palestinian families were killed yesterday? How many more are dying even as I stand here? How many more will die before the death count is complete?

  “We must identify and punish those Jewish leaders who have committed this crime. And we must ensure that the people who supported them will be held accountable as well.

  “And then, my fellow leaders, we must consider the next step to take.

  “For how many years now has the world been roiled in strife! Since the inception of the State of Israel, we’ve seen nothing but war. There is no peace, and there will be no peace, until we take the next step.”

  He left the next step undefined, but everyone knew what he meant.

  “Do we need any more excuse,” the Secretary-General completed, “or have you finally seen enough? Have we need of further evidence than what we were shown yesterday? I think not. I think not. You know what we have to do.”

  Within an hour of his speech, the European Union made a formal statement, condemning the state of Israel as well as any who had supported them in this most horrendous attack. Already, European Muslim immigrants, almost fifty million in all, were rioting in the streets, demanding justice, demanding punishment, demanding the destruction of Israel and the U.S. Watching their own streets erupt in Muslim fury, the European leaders cowered. They knew that the immigrants had been growing in numbers, but now there were so many, and they were so strong! So many Muslims. So much fury. What could they ever do! They could wield a furious power of destruction if the leaders didn’t tread carefully.

/>   On the evening of the second day, the United Nations Security Council met in an emergency session. It was almost midnight when the meeting got under way, and for the first time in the history of the U.N., the United States ambassador to the United Nations was not allowed to attend. A security delegation of the General Assembly stood at the doorway to keep him from entering the Security Council room.

  The U.S. ambassador protested and argued, but it didn’t change anything, and the meeting was called to order with him standing outside the closed door. For almost ten minutes he stood there, looking like a fool to the gloating press, then finally left in a rage, disappearing down the winding stairs.

  The French ambassador called the meeting to order. “Israel has created an enormous problem,” he started. “One that will be extremely difficult to deal with, I’m sure you agree. And yes, it is true that Israel must be punished, and we, as a body, must soon turn our attention to that. What will happen to her, I don’t know, I don’t think anyone can predict. It will be dire. It will be unpleasant, but we have to remember this: The problem isn’t only Israel. The much greater problem is the United States.”

  The German and Russian ambassadors all nodded, clapping their hands to agree. The Chinese delegate remained silent. This was all good to him. The English ambassador huffed for a moment, then remembered the twelve million Muslims who lived inside England now. He remembered the strident anti-American candidates who had gained so much power in the local elections. He considered the anti-Semites who had become brazen now, picking up power at almost every turn. He remembered the pictures he had seen of the nuclear explosion over Gaza, the charred and burning bodies, the dead children on the street. He remembered all this and more, and then sat quietly.

  The German ambassador stood next to his European brother. Together, they proposed a joint resolution. The time had come for the world to move beyond the postwar perceptions and recognize things for what they were now. The United States, once a great and benevolent nation, was no longer a force for good. Instead, the Americans and their allies had become the greatest threat to peace in the world. Always arrogant and self-serving, they had grown far too powerful. And while their allies were few, they had grown evil as well, the puppet state of Israel having proved that beyond any doubt.

  But if they could neuter the Americans, her allies would be neutered as well. Without the U.S., her puppets wouldn’t have the power to wreak such havoc in the world.

  Therefore, the two ambassadors proposed a drastic resolution.

  Two hours later, after a nearly unanimous vote, the United States was kicked off the Security Council. It seemed the best way to indicate the world’s disdain.

  As the second most populous nation in the world, India would be given the old U.S. seat. And yes, the U.N. charter would have to be either amended or ignored to accommodate the resolution, but no one seemed particularly concerned with the governing rules right now.

  The proposal was put before the General Council, where it passed overwhelmingly.

  And while the U.S. protested angrily, the rest of the world seemed to cheer.

  * * *

  On the evening of the third day after the attack, King Abdullah al-Rahman of the House of Saud was given time to address the General Assembly. Before doing so, he informed the U.N. leadership that he had been asked to speak for the entire Muslim world and all Arab-speaking peoples. It would be his task, he told them, to provide their formal response to the nuclear attack.

  The world breathlessly waited to hear what he would say.

  The king stood at the enormous podium, looking down on the representatives from virtually every nation on earth. His comments were being broadcast throughout the entire world. Almost five billion people watched him as he stood tall and proud. He was a handsome man, well mannered. He even looked like a king! Strong. Compassionate and yet defiant. Confident and still kind.

  “I stand here before you,” the good king started to say, “because I have been asked to speak for my people, to speak for my fallen kin.

  “Now, I understand what you expect. You want me to stand and condemn the state of Israel. I should. And I will. But this is not where I want to begin. You see, we have been hacking at the leaves of this new evil for far too long now. We hack at the leaves, and they keep growing because we ignore the root.

  “So I stand here, my brothers, my fellow human beings, to declare the need to let the leaves blow, for they will fall in the wind if we can destroy the root!”

  A silence fell over the assembly. The cameras rolled. All sat grim-faced. A deadly hush filled the air.

  “My oldest brother has been killed recently,” the dark-haired king continued in a solemn tone. “My father killed as well. So I stand here as an Arab and a Muslim, one who has felt the harsh sting of death. I stand here as a brother to one hundred thousand Palestinians who have been mercilessly killed, as the son of a dead father and a dead brother, my prince. I stand here to cry out for justice and vengeance as well.

  “We can talk all we want about Israel. We scream and condemn. We can point fingers and plan retaliations, we can pound our fists on our desks. We can do this and more, but we would be wasting our time. You see, my fellow world citizens, I know now, we all know, where the real problem lies.”

  The king paused and lifted a large photograph and held it for the cameras to see. “U.S. combat soldiers operating inside Iran,” he explained. “A clear and warlike violation of this nation’s borders and integrity. Now, how would the United States react were an Arab nation to secretly send its combat troops to operate within U.S. borders? You don’t have to think very long. The answer is clear.”

  The king dropped the picture and lifted another. “Muslim men being tortured in a U.S. military prison,” he explained. “This is only one of many U.S. gulags in the world; it just happens to be the most famous one: Guantanamo Bay in Cuba. But there are many more: Abu Ghraib in Iraq, Saud el-amin in Pakistan, and Bagram prison in Afghanistan, to name just a few. From one hemisphere to another, there are military prisons everywhere. Most are secret. None are open. The International Red Cross cannot get in. These torture chambers have become such a scourge, Hitler and Stalin would be proud. Tens of thousands of innocent victims sit and rot in these prisons where they are tortured, starved, and beaten every day. And why are they held? What crime have they done? Even according to many U.S. courts, they have committed no crime. Their only crime, their only sin, is that they are Muslim men. From this evidence, and more, it has become clear that the U.S. is waging a war against my religion and my people, against a culture and ethnicity that is different from theirs.

  “Who will speak for these prisoners? Who? my people demand!

  “That is why I stand here. I speak for them today!”

  The king stopped and looked out on the delegates, their eyes all fixed on him. They all smelled the blood now, and they wanted to get in on the kill. The king’s black-and-white headdress fell perfectly down his neck, and his dark eyes stared out as he brought his hand to his chin. “And now I must tell you, fellow delegates, that I have further bad news.

  “I have been informed that we have evidence, even proof, that Israel coordinated its attack on Gaza with the U.S. president. In addition, the head of the International Atomic Energy Agency has informed me that the nuclear bomb that was dropped over Gaza was supplied by the U.S. Every nuclear detonation leaves a particular fingerprint, one that is traceable, and this warhead was almost certainly produced by the U.S. weapons facility in Tennessee. The head of the IAEA has assured me that they will know for certain very soon. But either way, the U.S. must have known what was coming. How could they not know! Israel would never have taken such a step without the express approval of her master. In fact, it is my opinion that the U.S. not only approved the attack on Gaza, they commanded it. Think about it, fellow delegates. Haven’t we seen this before? Think of what the Americans consider an appropriate response: A few thousand Americans are killed in this city in an attack�
�an attack, I might add, that was roundly condemned by virtually every Arab state. Yet how does the U.S. respond? They invade an entire nation, causing an untold number of civilian deaths. They destroy an entire government. An entire nation is brought down.

  “But does the U.S. stop there? No, they are merely getting started. We see Iraq was to follow. Who was to follow after that? Iran? North Korea? How do you know when they’ll stop? Is this the American’s idea of proportion? Is this the American’s idea of a fair and appropriate response? Something nips at their heels and they crush their heads. ‘Be our slaves, or we destroy you. Do our bidding or you die. You are either with us or against us.’ How do you reason with that!

  “But that, my fellow citizens, is the great lesson they have taught us today. That is the lesson of this new century.

  “And now we have seen that Israel has learned the lesson from its master very well.

  “But I reject it. I reject it! And we must stop them now.

  “The blood of a hundred thousand Palestinians cries out from the ground. Ten thousand tortured Muslim prisoners cry for vengeance as well. Israel must be punished, and she will be. But so must her master, for the slave does not do but what the master bids it to.

  “So I come to you, my brothers, and beg you to act. And if you will not act, then don’t condemn us for what I may be forced to do.”

  The king stopped and looked out.

  The assembly burst into applause.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  El Saud bin el-Aziz Auxiliary Air Base

  Northern Saudi Arabia

  The Chinese colonel was escorted across the dry airfield, a Saudi aide always holding an umbrella over his head, not so much to block the sun as to hide the rank on his shoulders from the American satellites that might be prying overhead. Yes, the Saudis thought they had a handle on most of the U.S. satellites, but they often varied their flyover schedule, and then there were always the high-flying drones.