“Get her, Hercules! Attack, boy!”
Whirling, Diana braced the long handle against her side, the pitchfork angled up. The dog was already in midair. It came down right on the tines, yipping as they tipped through its body like knives through butter. The dog weighed as much if not more than she did, and she was knocked back.
“Hercules!” Amos Stiggims cried. He stared at the dead dog, then screeched and came at her like one possessed.
Letting go of the pitchfork, Diana evaded a wild slash. She backpedaled and Stiggims came after her, his eyes lit with maniacal fury. He swung the blade at her throat, her chest, her face. She bumped into something and nearly fell. Reaching back to steady herself, she realized she had collided with the ladder. Darting around it, she tried one last time.
“It doesn’t have to be like this.” She tried to stay calm. “Drop the knife and let me leave.”
“Bitch!” the old man shrilled, and thrust his knife between the rungs. Diana had her biweekly volleyball sessions to thank for the reflexes that enabled her to grab his wrist, wrench with all her might, and break the bone with an audible crack. He screamed and slumped, and she came around the ladder and landed an uppercut any boxer would envy. It nearly broke her hand, but it left him on his knees, too woozy to resist as she dived a hand into his pocket and palmed the keys. Five minutes later the truck was roaring down the country road, raising a thick cloud of dust in its wake. Diana Trevor gripped the wheel tightly. She had a long way to go and nothing was going to stand in her way.
Except dying.
11. The Color of God
Patrick Slayne drove with fierce intensity. He needed to put as much distance behind them as he could in as short a time as possible. He pushed the Hunster past ninety when the streets permitted and took curves perilously fast.
Alf Richardson was as pale as snow. “It’s like being on a roller coaster, only worse.”
“Can’t you slow down?” Deepak Kapur complained.
“Of course I can,” Slayne responded. “But I won’t. Unlike you, I happen to like breathing.” Deepak made a prediction of his own. “You’ll want to kick yourself for being ridiculous when nothing happens.”
“You’re in denial, Mr. Kapur.”
“Or is it that I have more confidence in the U.S. military than you do? They have satellites that can shoot missiles down. They have land-based defense systems like the Nimrod that was set up last year. They have jet interceptors.”
“Your point?”
“This isn’t Iran. This isn’t Israel. It’s America. We have the most sophisticated weaponry on the planet. I doubt very much that an enemy missile will get through.”
“That’s because you’re under the delusion that our defenses are infallible. Trust me. They’re not. Satellites work best against missiles with high trajectories. They don’t do as well against missiles that fly at ground or sea level. The Nimrod is effective, yes, but again, it’s hard for the system to lock in on a missile that comes in low. As for our jets, by the time they’re scrambled to intercept, it will be over.”
“I refuse to believe that.”
“Like I said, you’re in denial.”
Alf cleared his throat. “I believe you, Mr. Slayne. You’ve been right about everything else.” Slayne didn’t appear to hear him. “Our lives depend on the payload. I’m guessing it will be one kiloton, but it could be more.”
“How far do we have to go be to be safe?” Alf asked.
“Completely safe? Thirty miles.”
“How far have we come?”
“We’re not quite six miles outside the city.”
Alf clutched his seat. “Oh, God.”
“Stay calm, Mr. Richardson. The Hunster is shielded and reinforced. Essentially, it’s a disguised tank. Or a Humvee, if you want. We can handle ten times the radiation of most any transport on the planet.” Slayne spun the wheel, taking a corner on two tires. “Our main worry is the blast pressure. Up to five miles out from ground zero, the pressure wave can flatten a building.” Deepak interjected, “Did you ever stop to think that Homeland Security might be wrong?”
“Think what you will if it will make you happy.”
Sighing in annoyance, Deepak shifted in his seat and looked out the rear window at the New York skyline. It looked so serene; the skyscrapers were silhouetted against the sky in grand majesty. Suddenly there was a flash brighter than the sun, a flash so brilliant, Deepak cried out and looked away. When he glanced back through slitted eyes he beheld a purple glow. His eyes began to hurt and he looked away once more, but only for a few seconds.
A mushroom cloud was taking shape. So was a wall of living flames that leapt outward from the impact point, consuming everything in its path.
Alf screamed and doubled over. “I’m going to be sick!”
“You do and I throw you out,” Slayne snapped.
Deepak barely heard them. He was riveted to the most awe-inspiring sight of his life. The purple had changed to red. The mushroom cloud was at ten thousand feet and rising. On an impulse he timed it with his wristwatch. In less than a minute the cloud was thirty thousand feet high. The stalk stretched as the cloud rose.
“Magnificent,” Deepak exclaimed.
“You can’t mean that,” Alf bleated in terror.
Deepak could almost see the shock waves rippling outward like ripples in a pond. Whatever they touched, they flattened or blew apart. With remarkable speed the waves swept toward them.
“Faster!” Alf urged.
Slayne pushed the Hunster to a hundred. “Hold on tight. We’ll be like bugs in a barrel.” Deepak wondered what that meant. Then there was no time for wondering; the shock waves caught up with them. The Hunster gave a hard lurch and spun completely around. Clutching the handle over the door, he pressed his feet against the floor.
“Oh, God,” Alf wailed. “We’re dead!”
“Here comes the worst of id”
Pressure waves buffeted the Hunster. Slayne tried to maintain control, but human sinews were no match for potent, raw, incalculable force. The Hunster went into a tailspin, and then went on spinning. A building loomed in the windshield, growing closer and closer.
Deepak had barely braced himself when the Hunster slammed into a wall hard enough to make his ears ring. He slumped in his seat, half dazed, then groped about his body checking for broken bones. Alf was groaning.
At the base of the mushroom cloud was a purple dome, a gigantic pulsing, swelling, gelatinous bubble. It spread outward from the epicenter until it had swallowed half a mile of city. It appeared to be yards thick and almost looked wet.
A shiver ran down Deepak’s spine. “I have seen the face of Shiva, the Destroyer.” He would never be the same. “Get us out of here!” Alf urged.
Slayne was trying. He turned the ignition, but all the engine did was growl. He tried again, and a third time, then smacked the dash. “This shouldn’t happen. We’re shielded.” Deepak looked back at the purple bubble, which was pulsing and writhing with nuclear life.
“What is that thing?”
A roar from the engine brought a yip from Slayne. He threw the Hunster into gear to get clear of the wall, then wheeled to the west and tramped on the gas pedal. “Hang on. We need to vacate the radiation zone as quickly as possible.”
“What happens if we don’t?”
“We die of radiation poisoning, Mr. Richardson. As grisly a death as you can conceive.” Deepak didn’t care about that. He didn’t care that Slayne was driving like a lunatic. He couldn’t take his eyes off Shiva, made real. Belatedly, he realized that the majestic skyscrapers he had been looking at only minutes ago were gone. So were countless other buildings and homes. A great circular swath of steel, stone, and humankind had been consumed, the very heart of New York City devoured by the ultimate man-made monster.