Miles away, a Global Hawk banked slightly and zoomed in with 128-power intensity. The hideously expensive machine would be shot down by Nevada’s air defenses within minutes, but for the moment, she streamed back east chilling images. The president was, by now, personally observing the operation in real time. His face held no expression as this girl, only a few years older than his own daughters, tossed all their strategic calculus on its head.
The rebels were now a nuclear power.
A superpower.
Chapter 12
Capitol Building, Tallahassee, Florida
“Mr. Speaker!” The latest congressman to hold that title fielded the question from a reporter his staff already thoroughly screened. “Does this blanket amnesty also apply to the renegade Supreme Court Justices hiding in California?”
There was a good reason the veteran politician was selected for this role. His down home shrug and easy going, youthful grin belied the gravity of the situation.
“It doesn’t apply, because they haven’t done anything wrong. It is the position of the president and this Congress that they have simply resigned their posts. The Senate has already approved the president’s new appointees. We even sent out the old Justices’ final paychecks. At least the post office is still loyal out west!” No one laughed at his joke. He quickly changed the subject by answering an unasked question.
“No, of course we do not recognize the legitimacy of this ridiculous, fantasy government in certain states. Nonetheless, the Healing Act is valid nationwide, not just here in Florida. Everyone is being given a second chance.”
The same reporter surprised the politico’s handlers with a follow up question. “Does that mean, in fact, that you are willing to let people get away with murder?”
He was ready for the trap question. It was the single most divisive issue in Congress today. “Of course not. A soldier fighting for their homeland is not murder. We will evaluate every case individually, but you’re missing the key point. Anyone willing to lay down their weapons and pledge an oath of allegiance to the legitimate Federal authorities will be pardoned for any crime committed in the misguided attempt to overthrow the legally chosen government of the United States.”
The poorly vetted reporter lost her professionalism. “I thought the pledge of allegiance was to the Flag, the Constitution, and to liberty and justice for all. When the hell did the Feds get inserted?”
Some of the other reporters laughed nervously, others applauded and a few shouted at the provocative woman to shut up. The Speaker was a real pro though. Heckling didn’t throw him off stride. He kept going as if he hadn’t heard a thing.
“That includes everyone who voted for these so-called ‘freedom referendums.’ Even any member of the military, or civilian government employee, who has taken up arms against our country or otherwise acted against us. It’s time to end this senseless fighting. We are all Americans. Let our differences strengthen our land and not tear it apart.” With proper dramatic flair, he stopped grinning and stared unflinchingly at the camera cluster.
“With that said, this generous plan is also a limited time offer. Do not test the resolve or patience of the legitimate American government. You have 72 hours to come to your senses. After that deadline, any secessionist or terrorist activity will be met with overwhelming military force. Guantanamo Bay has been reactivated to house domestic terrorists; don’t make us fill it up again.”
Gathered behind him on the state’s capitol steps, a couple dozen stone-faced senators, congressmen, generals and admirals solemnly nodded. The cameras zoomed out for a panorama view of the core architects behind the Great Reconciliation Plan presenting a united front. Conspicuously absent were the most hawkish politicians and officers.
It was thought prudent that those opposed to immediate reconciliation be left out of the photo op. If people saw the grinning faces of leaders that advocated nationwide martial law and waging total war against rebellious states suddenly supporting the Act, its credibility might just be undermined. In this war, image management and news spinning were more effective than guns and bombs.
On the plus side, panning out gave the cameras an incredible view of hell on earth. From behind the Capitol, a buzzing grew incessantly louder. The reporters thought the large remote controlled plane cresting the dome and then circling ominously was part of some elaborate power demonstration. The thick cordon of soldiers ringing the perimeter didn’t recognize it as part of their inventory. Must be some special model used by all those Secret Service agents protecting the big wigs. The suit-wearing bodyguard detail assumed it must be some experimental military job, but they’d never seen anything like it before. Novelty alone was enough to spook them.
Even though the drone thing seemed to be slowly gaining altitude and not kamikazing into the crowd, the lead agent decided to get his principals inside anyway. It took a few seconds for him to decide, but before too long the old “stranger, danger” reaction won out.
Had he not hesitated… well, they all would have still died. Just as the agent took the Speaker by the arm, a weak bang echoed from above. He threw himself on the politician, drew his pistol and searched for the threat. The toy plane broke apart in a small explosion about 40 feet in the air. A silvery smoke cloud expanded outwards. Not falling, but spreading almost 60 feet in diameter. A faint wisp of propane filled the gawking onlooker’s nostrils a split second before the air itself ignited.
Fuel air explosives work differently than the more traditional type. The oxygen in the air is the real explosive. The propane and fluoridated aluminum in the bomb is merely a booster charge. The explosion is also relatively slow, Hollywood-style. You can briefly see the blast wave coming towards you. Unfortunately, that won’t help much to save your life.
The real killer wasn’t that impressive fireball, but the sledgehammer wave of overpressure ahead of it. The mini-nuke punctured the internal organs of body armor-clad soldiers a hundred yards away. They died without a single outward sign of injury. Closer into the hellfire, all the air was sucked away to feed the devil’s toy. So fast that the lungs were immediately ruptured.
The dignitaries directly underneath the blast spent their last moments alive suffocating from the sudden vacuum around them, even as the fireball incinerated them. The few survivors were so badly torched and permanently disfigured they’d wish they weren’t so “lucky.” For the first time in their careers, these statesmen and generals were getting a taste of the shit storm they so easily threw young soldiers into. The stench of overcooked, high-fat human meat and that gut wrenching scorched hair smell would hang over the square days after the bodies were removed.
Two miles away, a silver Prius didn’t slow down and gawk as a stream of ambulances wailed past. With the video feed to the drone no longer available, Marcus had to get his after action report over the radio like everyone else. He felt fleeting regret for the reporters caught in the slaughter, but his sympathy didn’t last long for those ghouls. Where were they when his world ended? His family’s lives apparently weren’t worth the airtime, but these asshole generals and politicians deserved wall-to-wall breaking news coverage?
He only worried about the loss of the heavy-haul drone his grad students built. What a marvelous machine they whipped up. Reliable and able to carry his 700-pound homemade thermobaric bomb almost a mile from the city park to the capitol building. He honestly felt shame for stealing and destroying it. He’d have to find those young people and make it up to them somehow.