Type 88

Part 6 - Crunch Crunch, Chapter 13

13

Five Days until the Deadline

Harry Truman was Melinda Shroud's idol. She believed him to be the most significant president in history because he wasn't afraid to take the objective choice when it mattered most. He saved millions of lives by ending WWII the way he did. Circumstances awarded him an incredible opportunity to change the course of human history, and he seized it. As generations of families passed, the collective afterglow of Hiroshima and Nagasaki dimmed. Historical decisions gained objective clarity over time, and society would view Truman's actions through this lens as well. He'd have the long-run reverence he deserved. People just needed to catch up.

History would remember what Melinda accomplished today in much the same way. Greatness is the persistence to pursue what is necessary to seize opportunity. Get your shots downrange, and something will hit. Nothing stops this.

Over the intercom, Melinda learned the last of their warheads was airborne. The room rejoiced. Most of the crew didn't understand what it meant, but they did their jobs, and that was reason to celebrate. Maybe the voice was beatable after all.

***

As the celebration commenced, the door to the control room exploded open, and McFadden entered. He didn't have a direction in mind. He was a Bengal tiger just released from the zoo, realizing it had no idea what to do outside its cell. McFadden's eyes caught Melinda's (it mauls), and he motioned for her to join him outside.

***

McFadden informed Melinda that Japan, the Middle East, and the fucking rest of the world had caught wind of their plans. She told him that was impossible. They had kept communication local—nothing over the air, nothing over the wire. McFadden told her that it didn't matter now, because half the world's nuclear weapons were en route to US soil.

Melinda tuned him out, disconnecting herself from the conversation. She watched the old man thrash at her in a blur, demanding she pull a rabbit out of a hat.

Nothing stops this.

McFadden ordered the deactivation of as many warheads as possible before they reached the mainland, but defense systems were not prepared for total nuclear annihilation—they would barely make a dent. They then focused on anything destined for a hundred-mile radius of their current location. They were important people, after all.

"Nothing stops this," Melinda said aloud.

"I told you, we have the means to steer the path away from the East Coast," McFadden said. "Given our position, we stand a fighting chance, but it's going to require—"

Melinda smiled. McFadden stopped his tirade and took a step back. She took the old man in. He had the same look as the homeless man under the bridge. She didn't need to put her hands on his throat.

The control room had evidently received McFadden's news as well. A siren rang. People rushed. Computers lit up. The power cut. The ground shifted. A TV monitor toppled off the wall.

She walked away from McFadden. He shouted something. She approached the exit chamber. Two guards held her back. Melinda took a swing at one or at least thought she did. The man didn't respond.

The hallway started to crumble around them. The two guards glanced at each other, terrified. There was that look again. Melinda laughed and shook her head.

She sat at their feet and put her back against the wall.

The glass entrance to the chamber shattered.

Melinda closed her eyes. "Nothing—"

The thick lead door to the exit crumpled like a plastic bottle in a campfire.

"—stops—"

The door blew off the hinges. Melinda opened her eyes. For a fleeting moment, she felt horrified. How had it all come to this?

She was alive.

The pressure tossed her into the back wall like a rag doll. She felt a pop as her neck broke, just before a shockwave of irradiated white heat filled the corridor. Her bones disintegrated, and the rest of her body disappeared into the air.

The corridor was still. Everything finished as quickly as it started. A short hissing sound reverberated through the destruction for a fraction of a second longer.

"—this."