Nuclear Winter First Strike by Bobby Akart (best fiction books of all time .txt) 📗

and Israel were on equal par with one another thanks to a recent surge in Iran’s stockpiles. They thought it was a fair fight, but it wasn’t because Israel had planned for this eventuality many years ago. Its defensive capabilities were far superior.”

The results were obvious.

Erin stopped and began to draw in the sand with her toes. Hank stood back to give her plenty of room. She drew a big circle and reached out to take his hand.

“You stand here, Captain America.” She smiled and sent him a wink. He eagerly stepped into the circle.

She stood to the side and made a circle representing China. Then she walked around Hank to create another one for Russia.

“China and Russia, okay?” She furrowed her brow as she identified the circles. Hank gave her a thumbs-up.

Then, below China toward the left, near the water’s edge, she drew another circle and looked up to Hank.

“This is Pakistan and India. Now, they’ve been in their own gasoline-soaked room for a while now. They don’t have a thousand matches, but they have more than enough to incinerate the room. If they were to light their matches, the billowing smoke and ash would flow upwards into the atmosphere and, within four days, spread around the globe.

“We would experience nuclear winter, albeit on a lesser scale at first. This will gradually become worse as the days go on. Naturally, if the nukes were dropped on top of us, the results would be immediate.”

“I see,” said Hank. He began to step toward her, and she raised her hand, indicating she wasn’t finished.

She walked to the opposite side of the China circle, closer to Hank, and drew an oblong shape from the water’s edge to the upper side of China. She stood off to the side and put her hands on her hips to survey her work.

“This represents the Korean peninsula. Now, there’s a whole lot of gasoline here, but only one side has matches, and they’re held by a ruthless dictator.”

Hank chuckled. “I call him Little Un.”

Erin laughed with him but cautioned, “Short on stature but tall on threat. You see, if the balance of power between you, China, and Russia over there were to stay the same, Little Un, as you call him, might do something stupid because these big guns have his back. Likewise, these guys who are facing off in their own gas-filled room might decide to have at it.” She walked across China and pointed to India and Pakistan.

“What would trigger all of this?” asked Hank, sweeping his arm across the map in the sand. “Surely that whole mutually assured destruction thing would apply, right?”

“One would hope,” she replied. “But if it doesn’t, the consequences would be dire for all of us regardless of whether we were at ground zero of the nuclear strike.”

Hank shook his head in disbelief. He wondered how politicians could sleep at night knowing that nuclear Armageddon hung over us all like a mighty sword. He stepped out of his circle and motioned for Erin to walk back to the hotel. They shared casual conversation in an effort to get their minds off the prospect of somebody else striking a match in a gasoline-filled room that could result in their extinction.

Chapter Nineteen

Sunday, October 20

Oval Office

The White House

“Clear the room, everyone. Please.” President Helton had spent the entire day with advisors and analysts and staffers chirping in his ear for one reason or another. He needed some peace and quiet. Especially the peace half of the equation.

After the Oval Office was empty, he removed his jacket and loosened his tie. He made his way to a small cabinet located to the right of the Resolute Desk. It was perched below a painting of Lady Liberty holding the torch high above her head.

He retrieved a leaded crystal glass and the bottle of Glenfiddich scotch whisky. After pouring his glass half full, he returned to his desk and flopped in the chair. He mindlessly spun back and forth, taking in his surroundings.

He realized how rare it was for him to be left alone in his sanctuary. As president, he was afforded precious little free time. Once in a while, he was left alone to peruse briefing documents for a meeting before the ever-present Chandler would have a need to return to his office.

In addition to the briefings he received from all parts of government, he had figurehead functions to perform, ranging from meeting with world leaders to hosting the Little League World champions. As of this morning, his entire schedule had been cleared for the next several days as the nation’s vast intelligence apparatus kept him apprised of events in the Middle East.

It was nice, for a change, to set other matters aside to focus on one thing and make sure he got it right. As a former senator, he hadn’t run a government like a governor runs a state. Governors, like presidents, were the chief executive officer of a massive financial operation that dealt directly with the well-being of its citizens. Matters of health, finance, and national defense all had to be taken into account.

The Oval Office had hosted seventeen presidents before him since it was constructed by President Franklin Roosevelt in 1934. The president turned in his chair and stared into the darkness that had engulfed the District as nightfall set in. Lights twinkled off in the distance. He stood from the chair and casually strolled up to the three eleven-foot-tall windows overlooking the South Lawn.

The president was philosophical as he spoke to the empty room. In his mind, he was speaking to the American people. “This office comes with great responsibility. There is no perfect decision on any subject. I can support Israel, but I cannot fight their battles.

“I refuse to go to war over the free flow of oil. Past administrations have done that already. Any decision I make is gonna be met with criticism. That comes with the job.”

He stopped speaking, but his thoughts continued. So let