FOREWORD

by Ten To Midnight--Free(Lit)

  It didn’t take a genius to work out that, for all intents and purposes, America had been ruined. Perhaps not by the bombs themselves, but certainly by the environmental effects. Nuclear winter, fallout, disease, starvation. All were going to be rife in the new America.

  A tear welled in his eye for what had forever been lost. At that moment in time, he couldn’t imagine that America would ever recover from such devastation. Even if it did, it would be psychologically scarred for generations. The self-assured, optimistic country in which he had grown up was gone forever, its innocence stolen in a few hours’ of infernal lunacy.

  Somebody tapped him on the shoulder.

  “Sind sie ein Amerikaner?”

  The man was in his mid-twenties, immaculately dressed in what looked like a tailored business suit, his hair slicked back with gel. He was carrying an attaché case in one hand and a cellular phone in the other. He smiled sympathetically at Gellis.

  “Ja bin ich,” Gellis replied in broken German. “Ich bin von New York.”

  “New York, eh?” The man spoke with a clipped English accent. “Oh dear, I’m so sorry about what’s happened, old chap. Terrible business. Have you just arrived in Frankfurt?”

  “Yes, I was on my way to…” Gellis’s voice trailed off as he thought of his friends and relatives in Moscow. They were probably somewhere in the upper stratosphere right now, he imagined grimly. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Well, I don’t think you’ll be going any further than here tonight. I’ve just arrived here on a business trip. Can I give you a lift into town?”

  Gellis looked at him. Either this guy was a faggot or simply a very polite Englishman. An idea occurred to the reporter. “Actually, perhaps you can help me. Do you know where the American consulate is?”

  “Yes, of course. It’s on Siesmayerstrasse. Just around the corner from my hotel actually. I’ll take you there. My car’s outside.”

  “Thanks, buddy. By the way, my name’s Richard Gellis. I’m a reporter for the New York Post.”

  The Englishman smiled wryly. “Reporter, eh? David Middleton, former stockbroker. Pleased to meet you.” They shook hands.

  “Formerstockbroker?”

  Middleton’s expression remained unchanged. “Well, I don’t imagine there’ll be any stock market activity for a while. Do you?”

  As Gellis picked up his luggage, he asked, “So how did you guess I was American? Do we stand out that much in Europe?”

  “Not really, old chap. I saw your expression as you watched the telly. It didn’t take a genius to work it out.”

  PERSPECTIVE: Effects of first wave of Russian attack on the U.S.A.

  The first wave of Russian nuclear weapons detonated over the United States resulted in approximately 1,150,000 fatalities within the first ten minutes. Blast and various other secondary effects caused most of these deaths. A further 2,500,000 suffered injuries, which would ultimately prove fatal. And in the next two weeks, radiation clouds from the attack would cause approximately 2,000,000 deaths as they drifted downwind.

  Other than Houston, Seattle and Washington D.C. - the population centers deliberately targeted by the Russian attack - San Diego, Kansas City, Boston, Oklahoma City and (to a lesser extent) San Francisco and Los Angeles would suffer large numbers of casualties as a result of radioactive fallout. Over the next thirty years, cancer and leukemia cases in the United States would increase by over 1,500%. There would also be a dramatic increase in birth deformities and failed pregnancies.

  Fallout from the Houston and Seattle bombs claimed relatively few victims as prevailing winds blew radioactive dust over the Gulf of Mexico and the Pacific Ocean respectively. The Washington D.C. attack affected Baltimore and most of Virginia and Maryland as the fallout headed southeast towards the Atlantic coast. The most devastating effects, however, were caused by the twelve one-megaton warheads that destroyed the NORAD complex at Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado and those that exploded at nearby Petersen AFB and Schreiver AFB. Fallout from these detonations affected most of Colorado State itself and much of southwestern Kansas as it was blown in a south-southeasterly direction.

  Environmental effects would also be dramatic. Farms in the Midwest would endure two successive lost harvests due to contaminated soil and livestock. As the smoke from the bombs rose into the atmosphere, impairing sunlight, a limited nuclear winter would affect the climate throughout the northern hemisphere for several years to come, although the climactic changes would not be as calamitous as some scientists had feared. In the bomb zones, bodies would lay unburied for weeks, encouraging the spread of typhoid and cholera. Medical supplies across the country would be severely limited.

  Even in the areas not directly affected by the attack, there would be severe consequences. EMP effects from high-altitude airbursts in the Gulf of Mexico and off the Pacific coast would ruin electricity supplies and normal communication lines for some time, although some areas - particularly in the Central and Northeastern United States - would largely escape this disruption.

  Within two weeks of the attack, over 15,000,000 Americans would die from the effects of this first wave of bombing - approximately 6% of the total population. The only consolation to be drawn from this fact is that the Russian bombs had been relatively “clean”, and that radiation effects might have been far worse.

  XIV

  A CHORUS OF MISERY

  “Forgiveness of enemies can only come upon their repentance.”

  (William Blake: Annotations To Lavater, 1788)

  ABOARD KNEECAP

  “And there have been more skirmishes on the Polish border involving Polish and Russian fighter jets,” Westwood reported, reading from the latest communiqué from Atlantic Command.

  “Did the Poles suffer any losses?” the President asked him. The edge of indifference in his voice was symptomatic of his fatigue. He was becoming terrified of closing his eyes, in case they wouldn’t open again. But if he didn’t get some sleep soon, he knew his judgment might become impaired, and that could prove catastrophic under the circumstances.

  “Two, sir,” Westwood informed him. “The Russians lost seven.”

  “We have to turn this thing off, Marion,” the President concluded. Reports had been flooding in of isolated skirmishes between NATO and Russian forces all over the world during the past two hours. Much of that was symptomatic of the heightened state of alert on both sides, but the President imagined that it also had something to do with the emotional reactions of soldiers outraged by the devastation of their homelands. Nevertheless, each incident served to further complicate the possibility of diffusing this crisis. “How long until I’m scheduled to speak with Yazov again?”

  Copeland checked his watch. “Twenty minutes sir.”

  “And all our bombers are at their positive control points,” Mitchell remarked dourly. “Which means that their bombers are also awaiting orders.” He looked up at Reynolds. “Okay, let’s do the conference.”

  “Yes, sir.” Reynolds activated the conference line, linking KNEECAP to the Director of FEMA, the Secretary of the Treasury, the Postmaster General and the Assistant Secretary of Health, Education and Welfare (her boss had been missing since the Washington blast).

  Once the brief introductions had been made, it was down to business. The FEMA Director was first to speak.

  “Sir, we’ve been working with the Department of Agriculture to conduct a preliminary survey of food stockpiles and the likely effect of contamination upon our crops. Based on that information, I’ve got an estimated rationing program here for your approval.”

  “Okay, keep it brief though. We’ve got a lot to get through.”

  “Of course, sir. We estimate that the basic weekly food allowance for adults over the age of eighteen will be six eggs, three pints of milk, ten rashers of bacon, 250 ounces of butter, a loaf of bread, half a pound of sugar, half a pound of cereal, two bars of plain chocolate and seven cans of tinned vegetables.”

  “Jesus,” Margaret exclaimed
. “How are people expected to survive on that for a week?” Americans had never known what it was like to go without luxury foodstuffs, but now they were going to have to face a new reality. They weren’t going to like that one bit, she thought.

  “There will, of course, be variations for the young and elderly.”

  “How long will this last for?”

  “Hard to say, sir. The problem is that most of our crops in the Midwest will be heavily contaminated from nuclear attacks in those areas. This year’s harvest can be pretty much written off. Assuming that we start to recover next year, this program could last for as little as three years, or in the worst case scenario, up to eight years.”

  “But surely,” Nielsen pointed out, “the population decrease will cushion the effect to some degree.”

  “Not necessarily,” the FEMA Director told him. “One of the consequences of a population decrease is a shortage of manpower for food production and other industries, especially given that many millions of people will be preoccupied with reconstruction and providing medical care. And then there are other imponderables, such as environmental effects. We don’t know, for example, whether the theory of nuclear winter will be borne out.”

  Great,the President thought. Give me something else to worry about. “Okay, I’ll approve your rationing program. Now talk to me about recovery efforts within the bomb zones.”

  “Nothing to report yet, sir,” came the apologetic response. “It’s still too early to get people near the bomb zones. Not just because of radiation, but also because of fires raging out of control.”

  “Well, can’t you send in choppers or fire engines to put the fires out?”

  “We’ve got choppers in the affected cities, dousing the fires with water. But most of them are just too intense. And, because of rubble, we can’t get fire engines close enough. Besides, even if they could get in close enough, there would be no water supply for them to tap into.”

  “Well keep trying,” Mitchell ordered. “Next question. What are we doing about the dispossessed?”

  “In accordance with emergency provisions designed long before the attack, sir, we’re setting up camps around the country. These are operated at local level by town councils and the like, who in turn report to FEMA state representatives. Unfortunately, what the designers of this plan didn’t think of is that many of the people charged with putting it into effect have been killed or have simply failed to report in for duty. As such, our people are failing to cope with the sheer numbers of refugees. Illinois, for example, is having to cope with tens of thousands of refugees from the Midwest. And we’re also having problems getting supplies through to refugee centers because of the volume of traffic.”

  “Mr. President,” Lewis interjected, “may I offer some advice here?”

  “Sure,” Mitchell shrugged, rubbing his eyes, which were increasingly bloodshot and sore. “Anything constructive is helpful right now.”

  “Extend the ban on Interstate travel to all major highways until FEMA have got their resources in place. That should help not only with the traffic problem, but it’ll stop some states being too heavily burdened with survivors.”

  The President barely took a second to ponder that. “Good idea. Let’s do it.”

  “Um, sir,” Nielsen interrupted. “Just who are we going to get to enforce this ban? The National Guard is already stretched just maintaining civil order.”

  The President allowed his frustration to show. “Then send in the regular Army, for Chrissakes. I don’t care.”

  “I thought we’d already dismissed that idea, just in case we need…”

  “Well, I just changed my mind,” Mitchell barked at the Secretary of Defense. “FEMA will get as many regular troops as they need to supplement their own staff and the National Guard. I’m going with Dr Stein’s idea, my mind is made. Now make it happen.”

  Nielsen stood to leave the room, visibly stung by the President’s biting reprimand. “Yes, Mr. President.”

  “I’ll draw up an executive order to authorize the ban,” Mitchell told the FEMA Director once Nielsen had left the room. He checked his agenda. “Okay, next item. Emergency courts. I take it this has something to do with the maintenance of civil order, correct?”

  “Yes, sir,” FEMA said. “Wartime provisions exist for the establishment of emergency courts of justice empowered to fast-track criminals through the judicial process. And the National Guard is authorized to use deadly force in cases of rape, murder and looting. For less serious crimes, detention camps will be set up until suspects are brought before the emergency courts. I just need your signature, sir, to effect these provisions.”

  The President was uncomfortable with the prospect of yet more Americans dying in violent circumstances, but he was a realist and understood that such happenings were a fact of life (or death) in extraordinary circumstances such as this. “Okay, I’ll have the order faxed to you. Let’s move on. Brian,” he said to the Secretary of the Treasury, “what effect will all of this have on the economy?” Mitchell, an Economics professor, was on comfortable ground here.

  “Devastating, as you can imagine,” SecTreas reported. “The dollar has crashed in Far Eastern markets to about 85 against the Yen. It closed at 149 yesterday. The slump is likely to continue when Europe opens for business. We’re powerless to stop it.”

  Mitchell wasn’t surprised by the news. “Fine. Freeze the exchange rate. Suspend all currency speculation until further notice. Same goes for the commodity and equity markets. They stay closed, okay? What about our national reserves?”

  “Thankfully, our gold and currency reserves are intact, and the Fed managed to back up all its data before the attack.”

  “Good. Get to work on closing those markets before they bankrupt us. Thanks Brian.” He turned his attention to HEW next. “Sally, I’m sorry about Michael. He was a good man.”

  “Thank you, sir, he was,” the acting Secretary said, referring to her boss, who was still unaccounted for.

  “Well, I know you wasn’t expecting this sudden promotion, but you’ve just been thrown in at the deep end. How are our hospitals coping?”

  “Again, sir,” she said reticently, “they’re being overwhelmed as you can imagine. I’ve been getting reports from all over the country of hospitals running out of supplies. Some have been reduced to operating in medieval conditions, without power, drugs or sterilized instruments. And we haven’t even begun to see the effects of radiation yet. At this stage, most of the casualties appear to be burn victims. I should also add, sir, that doctors are applying discretionary treatment.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means, Mr. President, that people whose injuries are terminal are being…” She paused, trying to find the right words. “Helped along.”

  “Oh my God,” Margaret muttered, her face contorted into an expression of horror.

  The President pondered that. He knew that he should have been disturbed at the prospect, but realized that the accrued horrors of the last few hours had desensitized him somewhat to such revelations. “Well, we’ve got an emergency Federal stockpile of medical supplies. Why aren’t they getting through?”

  “Excuse me, sir,” the FEMA Director said, “I could answer that question. If we were to use up all our emergency supplies now, we’d be wasting a lot of them on patients that would probably die anyway. It’s standard policy in this kind of scenario to withhold those supplies for at least three days, so they can be applied to those who are likely to survive.”

  “So what you’re saying,” the President thought aloud, “is that we’re denying Americans the right to medical treatment?”

  “Dying Americans,” FEMA corrected. “Those who are likely to survive will do so until we begin to distribute supplies.”

  Mitchell shook his head in disbelief. He had sworn an oath toprotect and defend the American people, and now he was being asked to deny them basic medical treatment simply because they were going to die anyway. No, he decided, this
was one measure he was unable to reconcile with his conscience. “To hell with normal policy, Jack,” he told FEMA. “Start distributing those supplies immediately. Commandeer civilian transport if you have to. In fact, I don’t care what it takes, but those supplies are going to get to the people who need them.”

  “But sir…” FEMA began to protest.

  “Now!” Mitchell barked. “That’s an order.”

  “Yes, sir,” the Director responded feebly.

  Westwood’s private line began to ring. He picked it up and whispered quietly to the caller while the President continued on conference.

  “Finally, the postal system. How bad, Steve?” That question was directed at the Postmaster General.

  “Severely impaired, sir,” the PG told him. “But it’s recoverable. I recommend that for the time being, we deliver first class post only. Any post going to areas destroyed by bombs can be archived for two weeks so that survivors can collect it.”

  “Fine. Do it.”

  Westwood hung up the phone, stood and walked over to the fax machine. The President looked up. “What’s going on, Marion?”

  The Chairman peeled a sheet of paper from the fax machine. He briefly checked it before handing it to the President, who put his reading spectacles on.

  “It’s the Glass Eye report, sir.”

  Mitchell tried to make sense of the diagram. It was clearly a map of America, covered with black spots, swirling tails of various lengths trailing from each of them. He ended the conference call and turned to Westwood. “What does this mean?”