The children all ran outside in time to see a gigantic fire dragon climb slowly skyward out of the valley. The fire was too intense to look at directly, and it spread an orange aura over the surrounding hills. The children watched it ascend and increase in speed, going higher and higher and turning into a point of light as its sound grew more muffled. Eventually the light flew due south and soon dissolved into the dawn sky.
COUNTERATTACK
The Antarctic morning turned overcast followed by heavy snow, but Davey’s mood remained bright. The cocktail party held at the base the previous night to celebrate victory in the games had lasted late into the night, but he had slept very well. Fully refreshed, he was breakfasting with the generals and senior officials who had come to Antarctica. He valued this breakfast opportunity, since children tended to be in a good mood in the morning, rather than irritated and annoyed from the frustrations and work of the day. Many things could be talked through at breakfast.
The army band played pleasant music in the pressurized hall for the children to listen to as they ate, and everyone was in a good mood.
At the table, Davey said, “I predict that the Chinese children will announce their withdrawal from the games today.”
Seven-star general Scott, who was cutting a piece of steak, grinned. “Nothing special about that. After yesterday’s strike, do they have any other choice?”
Davey raised a glass in his direction. “Getting them off of Antarctica is a whole lot easier now.”
Scott said, “And then knocking out the Russian kids and driving them off. And then Japan and the EU—”
“We’ve got to be a little careful about the Russians. Who knows whether or not they’ve got any bread crumbs in their bag?”
Everyone nodded, understanding the implication of those bread crumbs.
“Can we be truly certain that the Chinese kids don’t have any bread crumbs?” Vaughn asked, spearing a live krill with his fork.
Davey shook a fist at him. “They don’t have any! I told you they wouldn’t. Their bread was too small to leave behind any crumbs! Our gamble succeeded, I’m telling you!”
“When are you going to get more optimistic?” Scott said with a sidelong glance at Vaughn. “You bring a blanket of gloom and depression wherever you go.”
“On my deathbed, I’ll be more optimistic than any of you,” Vaughn said coldly, and swallowed the krill whole.
Then a colonel came in carrying a portable phone, and bent down to whisper something into Davey’s ear before passing the phone to him.
Laughing as he took the phone, Davey said gleefully, “It’s the Chinese kids. I told you, they’re definitely going to drop out of the games!” Then he spoke into the handset: “Is this Huahua? How’re you doing?”
All of a sudden he froze, and his expression turned unnatural, his characteristic sweet smile freezing in place for a few seconds before vanishing entirely. He set down the phone and looked around for Vaughn, just as he did in every moment of crisis. When he found him, he said, “They’ve informed us that they’re still in the game, and have just launched a nuclear missile at our base carrying a four-megaton warhead that will strike its target in twenty-five minutes.”
Vaughn asked, “Did he say anything else?”
“No. He hung up right after that.”
All eyes focused on Vaughn. He gently set down his knife and fork, and said calmly, “It’s real.”
Just then another officer came running in and nervously reported that the warning center had detected an unidentified projectile heading in their direction. The warning system had first detected the object when it took off from southwestern China, but by the time the warning had navigated the multiple layers of confirmation, the object had already passed the equator.
All of the young generals and officials stood up at once, eyes wide and faces white, as if a gang of armed assassins had burst into their plush restaurant.
“What do we do?” Davey asked in bewilderment. “Can we hide out in the new underground hangar we just dug?”
The seven-star general shouted, “The underground hangar? Bullshit. One blast from a four-megaton nuclear bomb will turn the whole area into a crater a hundred meters deep. And we’re smack in the center of it!” He grabbed Davey and threw his typical insults back in his face. “You moronic asshole! You’re the one who’s stuck us here. You’re gonna make us die here!”
“The helicopters,” Vaughn said. His simple statement pulled everyone to their senses and they surged toward the exits. “Wait,” he added, and they stopped as if nailed to the ground. “Immediately notify all the planes to take off at once, and to take as much equipment and personnel as possible. But don’t explain why. We must remain calm.”
“And the other branches? Order a total evacuation of the base!” Davey said.
Vaughn shook his head gently. “There’s no point. In the little time we have, no vehicle will be able to escape the blast radius. It would only cause chaos, and in the end no one would escape.”
The children scrambled for the exits. All but Vaughn, who remained behind, sitting at the table and wiping his fingers on a dinner napkin. Then he slowly got up and made his way outside, waving to the band as he passed to signal that it was nothing important.
Out on the tarmac the children fought to board the three Blackhawk helicopters. Scott managed to scramble into the cabin of one, and when the rotors started up, he looked at his watch and said through tears, “Only eighteen minutes left. We’re not going to make it!” Then he turned to Davey. “You’re the fool who got us stuck here. You’re not gonna get away, not even in death!”
“Keep your composure,” Vaughn, the last to climb aboard, said coldly to Scott.
“We’re not going to make it!” Scott choked out through tears.
“What’s so scary about dying?” A rare smile came to Vaughn’s face. “If you’re willing, General, you’ve got another seventeen minutes to become a true philosopher.” Then he turned to another officer next to Scott. “Tell the pilot not to climb, since the bomb will probably detonate at around two thousand meters. Fly with the wind, at top speed. If we can make it thirty kilometers or so, we should be outside the blast radius.”
Three helicopters inclined their rotors and accelerated inland. As Davey looked out through the porthole at the Antarctic base spread out below them, it seemed to gradually transform into an intricate sand-table model, and he shut his eyes tight against the pain.
The sky was foggy, and now that nothing was visible below them, it was almost as if the three helicopters were holding stationary. But Davey knew that they might already have flown beyond the base. He checked his watch. Twelve minutes had passed since they had received the warning.
“Maybe the Chinese kids are just trying to scare us?” he said to Vaughn, who was sitting next to him.
Vaughn shook his head. “No, it’s for real.”
Davey pressed against the porthole and looked outside again, but there was nothing but fog.
“The World Games are over, Davey,” Vaughn said. Then he closed his eyes, leaned back against the cabin wall, and said nothing more.
They found out later that the three helicopters had flown for roughly ten minutes prior to the nuclear explosion, putting them around forty-five kilometers away, outside the blast radius.