The men broke apart, circling each other once more.
Cole could see that Zhou was surprised; he had probably expected the encounter to be over almost as soon as it had begun; he wasn’t used to a challenge.
And perhaps, Cole thought, that was Zhou’s weakness — fitness. He had never been forced to go longer than a few seconds, and he was already showing signs of fatigue.
But then Cole saw the hurried movements of General Wu out of the corner of his eye, and he knew he might not have enough time to wear Zhou down.
Sensing Cole’s preoccupation, Zhou lashed out quickly, his huge foot sailing up towards Cole’s face, his flexibility uncanny for a man his size.
Cole barely got out the way in time, arching his head back; but that was just what Zhou wanted, and he landed a long, thrusting straight punch to Cole’s exposed gut that sent him staggering back across the clearing.
Unable to breathe, gasping for air helplessly, Cole fell to his knees.
Zhou moved quickly towards him, ready to deliver the killing blow, the coup de grâce.
Cole saw Wu moving back towards the command truck, knew he was running out of time.
And then time itself seemed to stand still as Cole’s eyes moved back to Zhou, taking in everything around him as the man-mountain rushed in toward him — he saw the man’s chest heaving, and he knew the man’s fitness was an issue; saw a wobble in one leg, knew immediately that his earlier kick to the man’s knee had done some damage; saw the pines, the leaves, the twigs that littered the grassy clearing; knew in a heartbeat exactly what he had to do.
Cole could breathe now, but carried on pretending he couldn’t; and then Zhou was upon him, huge fists reaching out for Cole’s head.
In the blink of an eye, Cole moved, ducking forward, head low as he struck out with one fist in a hugely powerful hook, knuckles impacting Zhou’s knee on exactly the same point as before; but this time, the knee buckled and then Cole burst upwards, pulling the broken stick he’d seen on the floor up with him.
In the next moment, in a flash of incredible speed, Cole had whipped the stick up past Zhou’s huge, sagging body, and embedded it in the man’s one good eye.
Jellied liquid burst out of the eyeball around the hard stick, covering Cole’s face, and the man screamed — a feral sound, inhuman, that chilled Cole to his very core.
Cole pulled away as the big man started to thrash about, arms and legs hitting out at the air around him, determined to hit anything, anything at all.
Zhou was entirely blind now, both eyes useless; but then Zhou stopped his thrashing and calmed down, seeming to center himself, attune his other senses to make up for his missing eyes.
And Cole knew he couldn’t give the man the opportunity, didn’t have the time — Wu was back at the truck, right now, inputting the codes, trying to launch — and Cole flew forward, striking the man on the arm, the leg, the shoulder, one nerve cluster after another; never letting the man rest, keeping the pressure on, hitting a multitude of points rather than just one or two, purely due to the man’s immense strength, the density of his body.
Just two more points to go and Zhou would surely die — nobody could live through such an assault — but then the big man’s instincts took over and he seized Cole with both of his enormous hands, pulled him in towards him, arms crushing him, and Cole couldn’t breathe, the pain in his broken ribs on fire as they rubbed and grated together.
Cole’s teeth lashed out, catching hold of Zhou’s lower lip, and he whipped his head around, back and forth, side to side, until the pain became too much for Zhou to bear and he loosened his hold, only a little, but enough for Cole to slip out an arm.
Cole knew he only had one chance, he would be back in Zhou’s enormously strong grip in the next couple of seconds, and he used what little time he had to lash out towards Zhou’s unprotected throat, the flesh weakened by his exhaustion, the multiple nerve strikes he’d already been hit with.
Cole fingers, incredibly strong and vice-like, clamped down firmly around the thick flesh, digging through the layers of skin and fat until they found the windpipe; and then they constricted with an unbelievable strength born of sheer desperation, until the skin itself was torn under the pressure, and the fingers wrapped around the windpipe and wrenched it outwards in one savage, powerful jerk.
Blood sprayed over Cole’s face as Zhou’s throat was torn out from his neck, flesh and blood and thick, hot tissue covering his hand.
The man released his grip as blood pumped wildly out of the opening in his neck, and his life drained out of him with a sickening, thick, gargling noise, hands going to his torn throat as he fell to his knees, then to the ground, the impact felt all around the clearing.
Cole took a single breath, at once appalled by what he had done but at the same time glad beyond measure that the man was dead, and turned immediately towards the missile command truck.
19
He was close, so close!
Wu had fixed the mechanical problem, had gained his extra few degrees of elevation, and was inputting the codes again, the excitement rising within him.
And then the codes were accepted and the terminal asked him if he wanted to launch, and he pressed the confirmation button, then hit the launch switch.
Yes! Yes! Yes!
He saw the rocket thrusters ignite, the force of the glorious, fiery explosion hitting the reinforced launch platform –
But then he felt something touching him, pushing him, shoving him –
And then he was even closer to his beloved missile, in among the beautiful flames, the incredible force enveloping him until it was all he knew, all he would ever know.
And then it all went blank, and General Wu saw and felt nothing more.
Cole had got to the launch module just in time, had pushed the general over the guard railing into the downdraft of the rocket as it fired up, ready to set off into the atmosphere.
General Wu De had been incinerated immediately and — as Cole had hoped — the intrusion of a foreign body into the launch zone had caused an automatic abort of the missile launch.
Cole watched in pained horror for several moments as the rocket continued to flare, threatened to launch, and then relief flooded him as the fire went out, gases leaking into the atmosphere as the big missile settled back down onto its guide rails, completely inoperable.
Cole looked at the Dong Feng as it sat there right in front of him, a missile with enough destructive force to lay waste to a city, wielded by a madman — a madman who now lay incinerated underneath his own weapon, destroyed by his own dreams.
And then the pain and exhaustion finally overcame Cole once and for all, and he collapsed, unconscious, to the ground below him.
EPILOGUE
Captain Samuel Meadows stood next to Admiral Charles Decker on the flag bridge of the USS Gerald R. Ford as it was towed, surely but surely, into White Beach Naval Base in Okinawa’s Nakagusuku Bay, wide grins spread across their faces.
The entire harbor area was saturated with people, not only the grateful citizens of Okinawa and mainland Japan, but also a whole contingent of ex-pat Americans, service personnel, and family members who had been flown in at the expense of the US government.
Flags were being waved, hands raised, voices calling to them in adulation and relief.
It was over; the whole terrible ordeal was over.