Fallout

• John Layton, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2010

Fallout
October 14, 1962, 5:00 p.m.
S.P.O.R. Headquarters, Washington D.C.
The senior Army colonel known as Falcon stared at the message from his contact in the White House. Then, as the rest of the men in the room watched, a sly smile grew on his face.
“This is the chance we’ve been waiting for.”
His voice cut through the sudden silence as the surrounding members turned as one to face him. To a man, they all had immense wealth and power. Ministers, senior military personnel from the Army, Navy and Air Force, businessmen in charge of some of the world’s largest International Corporations, to a man they were in awe of the soldier in front of them.
“The Russians have started to build missile factories on the island of Cuba. The President has entered negotiations with Khrushchev, but he is refusing to dismantle the missile base. For now. We need to act fast before he gives in.”
One of the other men in the room stepped out of the shadow. He was extremely tall, with pale skin.
“My man is ready, sir. He can be there in three days.”
“Get it done, Viper. America must remain the only superpower in the world. Supremacy, Power, Order, and Rule!”
The men around him echoed the motto.
“Supremacy, Power, Order, and Rule!
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October 18, 1962, 7:00 a.m.
The Bay of Pigs, Cuba.
He had finally made it. Three days of travelling with a guard he was not allowed to speak to under any circumstances. The next day was spent slipping past the American blockade and crawling up the beach under a heatproof blanket. He slipped up behind the Russian guard like a shadow, and the man fell without a sound. The only sign that the guard wasn’t asleep was the dark puddle slowly spreading from his throat.
He reached the missile firing area, the only sign of his passage a trail of bodies. He reached the controls and activated the missile, locking in the coordinates of the largest U.S. vessel using his extensive fluency in Russian learnt while preparing for this assignment. He took a deep breath, and hit fire.
The explosion was deafening as the thrusters activated. The missile burst up out of the silo and immediately banked towards the U.S.S. Mullinnix, flagship of the blockade around Cuba. As soon as the missile was fired, the agent was running as fast as he could towards the jetty, but the Russians were on their way. The missile launch had alerted them to what a dozen bodies couldn’t. They cornered the agent at the jetty and let rip with their machine guns, the shots sounding small against the roar of the missile. The agent’s last thought was towards his family, now living in a mansion because of his sacrifice.
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7:01 a.m.
U.S.S. Mullinnix
“Captain! The Russians have launched a nuke at us! We can’t get out in time!”
The young naval deckhand was the only one of the officers in the bridge who wasn’t looking at the orange streak heading straight for them. He was staring at the captain.
“We can’t do anything at all, officer. Radio the other boats. Tell them to go at full speed away from here, because anything within a mile radius around us is going to be burned to a cinder.”
The deckhand had only just finished giving the message when the missile struck. The officers on the ship felt a nanosecond of the most intense heat they had felt in their lives, and then all was silent.
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October 18, 1962, 1:00 p.m.
The White House, Washington D.C.
The President was listening in disbelief to one of his advisors. Graeme Johnson was a foreground expert in Russian politics, as well as being one of President Kennedy’s good friends.
“...They launched it after all. Straight at the Mullinnix. There were no survivors.”
The President was glad that there were no cameras around to capture his expression as his Johnson continued.
“The other ships got away, but two have crewmembers affected by radiation sickness. I’ve given orders to have them dock with the others, but no-one is to enter or leave the ship.”
“I can’t believe Khrushchev has done this.”
“He was going to back down, I was positive!”
“It must have been a bluff. Dammit! If we fire back with our own nukes, we’ll dissolve the planet into nuclear war.”
“I think I might be able to help you with this, Mr. President.” The voice came out of nowhere, it seemed, before the President saw the speaker. An extremely tall, sallow man with pale skin a fully shaved head gazed at Johnson and the President through sunken eyes. The President tried to cover his shock with blustering.
“Who are you? And how did you get in here?”
“Mr. President, my name is Doctor Ular Bastra, also known as Viper, of the Central Intelligence Agency. I am working in the medical sciences unit and I have the solution to your problem.”
The President was about to send him out when Johnson intervened.
“Hold on sir. This might be interesting.” Viper spoke again, before the President could make a decision.
“Mr. President, I have the solution to your problems. I have taken depleted samples of the element Uranium and doctored them to repel any radioactive matter. Construction of a wall of this around our country would deflect any nuclear material away from the USA.”
“A wall would take too long. We have to respond immediately. Graeme?”
“We could have, say, depots, of this material placed on the borders.”
“Good! Get it done. Doctor Bastra, we are in your debt. I need you to work with Mr. Johnson to secure the future of this country.”
Viper’s sunken eyes showed nothing of his hidden triumph as he nodded, slowly. He reminded the President of a coiled snake, ready to strike at any moment.
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It took three weeks for the depots to be built, one mile apart around the borders of the USA. The President gave the order, and hundreds of nuclear missiles were launched at strategic points all over Russia. President Khrushchev’s last order was to take the Americans down with them. Nuclear missiles shot up from Russian silos just minutes before the first American strike hit.
The Americans watched in triumph when the first Russian missiles banked away from the border of depots. They flew around the globe till they ran out of fuel, landing in every country in the world with devastating effects.
The earth was turned into a vision of hell. Great cities burning, their inhabitants incinerated, in every country save America was a huge crater, surrounded by death.
Then the sickly green smog began rising from the first impact site, in St Petersburg, choking people and boiling their juices inside their bodies with its heat. The smog never stopped rising, from every impact site in the world, covering in with nuclear smog, save America.
S.P.O.R. had wanted America as the only superpower in the world. It now had America as the only civilisation in the world.
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