Dale Brown - Act of War

“Holy shit,” someone murmured. “It looks like Kristen Skyy is going to fly over ground zero!” No one had to ask who Kristen Skyy was: she was by far the most well-known, popular, and trusted foreign affairs journalist on television since Barbara Walters. Her beauty, on-camera ease, and charm would have been enough to get her international attention, but it was without a doubt her drive, ambition, determination, and sheer courage that made her a media superstar.

No one, therefore, was that surprised to see her in the middle of a nuclear death zone.

“I thought the airspace over the entire nation was closed down!” Chamberlain thundered. “What in hell is she doing up there?”

“She’s on the ground in five minutes, sir,” Hanratty said, picking up a telephone in front of him.

The sound was gradually turned up, and they heard, “…assured repeatedly that it was safe at this point to fly near the blast site, the danger from radioactive fallout has subsided, my cameraman Paul Delgado has a radiation counter with him and as you can see the needle is hardly moving so I think we’re all right…”

“The radiation will be the least of her problems once I get done with her,” Hanratty murmured angrily. Into the mouthpiece, he shouted, “I told you, Sergeant Major, I’m watching her right now. She’s broadcasting live from a helicopter right over the damned blast area. I want an Apache up there to force her away and back down on the ground in five minutes, and if she doesn’t comply I want a broadcast warning her that she’ll be shot down. And when they land, arrest all of them. And I want the persons producing her news program to be arrested as well right now.”

“…been told that the FAA is ordering us to land,” the correspondent went on. “It’s an order apparently from the Departments of Defense and Homeland Security, but we think this story is just too important to simply fly away. We’ve been told that there are injured people at a park on Swan Lake, about a mile and a half from ground zero. Emergency responders are ordering everyone away from the blast area, so no help has arrived from Galveston or League City.”

“Are there any rescue units heading toward that area?” Chamberlain asked.

“All traffic for five miles around ground zero is being stopped, and that includes traffic on Galveston Bay,” Calhoun responded. “Radiation levels hit the danger mark at two miles out. No one can get close enough to the area to attempt any kind of rescue.”

“So what in hell is that reporter doing out there?” Chamberlain asked. “And why isn’t her radiation meter picking up anything?”

“Either she doesn’t have it on or she’s got it set up incorrectly,” Hanratty said. “Our detectors definitely picked up danger levels of radiation out to three kilometers. Kristen Skyy is going to get hurt if she stays out there—I don’t care what kind of suit she’s got on. And if that pilot and cameraman don’t have suits on, or if they’re not fitted or sealed-up properly, they’re dead—they just don’t know it yet.”

“Get them out of there, General!” Chamberlain shouted. But they could do nothing else but watch in horrified fascination as the report continued:

“We can see the blast area, ground zero,” the reporter in the radiation suit went on. “It looks like a forest after a huge fire, with nothing but blackened sticks sticking out of lumpy rocky black soil. The fires look like they’ve gone out, but we see what used to be the refinery and petroleum storage tanks still smoking. Here and there we see immense piles of metal glowing reddish-orange, like a pool of lava. I see what the term ‘vaporized’ means, because everything looks as fragile and decimated as ash on a cigarette. I apologize to the families of the victims of Kingman City for my harsh graphic descriptions, I’m not being insensitive, it is hard to put this nightmarish scene into words.

“Okay…okay, I understand…ladies and gentlemen, my pilot is telling me that he is getting some high-temperature readings from our helicopter’s engine, so it may be time to turn around; apparently the incredible heat still emanating from ground zero is superheating the air and causing some damage. The military is now warning us that they will shoot us out of the sky if we don’t leave. I don’t care what the military says, but if our helicopter can’t stand this heat then maybe it’s time to leave. We can’t help any survivors if we can’t safely evacuate them. The air is bumpy, obviously from the turbulence created by the heat, and it’s getting harder and harder to breathe in these suits, so I think we…hey, Paul, swing around over that way—my God, I see them! There appears to be an overturned school bus about a kilometer east of us, right at the edge of Swan Lake!”

“Oh, Christ,” Chamberlain breathed. And a few moments later, the camera focused on an overturned bus, which appeared to have either been blown over by the blast or the driver had steered or been pushed off the road and the bus flipped onto its side. They could count at least two dozen men, women, and children lying on the ground, motionless or writhing, obviously in pain. Several adults and children were in the lake, trying to stay away from the intense heat, but it was obvious that the water itself was getting uncomfortably hot as well—adults were carrying several children on their shoulders, trying to keep screaming children out of the water. There was a playground nearby; watercraft of all kinds were scattered around the edge of the lake, along with more bodies. The earth was scorched a pale gray, with “shadows” of natural color where larger objects had blocked the roiling wave of heat energy from the nuclear blast.

“Paul, tell him to go over there…yes, set it down over there!” Skyy was saying. “We’ve got to help those children out of there. Maybe if we can get them on the boats we can save them!”

“We’re watching it,” Hanratty said on the telephone. “Get some choppers out there to rescue those civilians in the lake. I want all other aircraft kept away from that entire area—yes, you are authorized to fire warning shots if necessary.” Chamberlain nodded when Hanratty looked to him for confirmation of his order.

“What are their chances, General?” Chamberlain asked.

As if to respond to his question, suddenly the image being broadcast from the SATCOM One news chopper swerved and veered. They heard a man cry out, but at the same time they heard Kristen Skyy say, “Oh, shit, it looks like the engine has seized up, and we’re going down. Paul, drop the camera and hold on, for Christ’s sake!” Chamberlain had to admire her courage—the cameraman was screaming like a child, but Skyy was as calm as ever. She even sounded embarrassed that she let an expletive sneak past her lips.

The image showed the view out a side window as the helicopter headed earthward. They saw the deck heel sharply upward moments before impact, and then the camera bounced free and went dark. “Shit—more civilians in the hot zone. How soon can we get some rescuers out there, General?” Chamberlain asked.

“Several have already tried, sir,” Hanratty replied. “We’ve got more on the way, but they’re running into the same problems. The heat is just too great out there.”

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” they heard Kristen Skyy say. “Paul, are you all right? What? Your back…oh, Jesus…Paul, we’ve got to get out of the chopper, it might catch on fire…if you can move, get out and get away from the chopper…no, screw the camera, just get out…I know you signed for it, Paul, jeez, okay, okay, take it if you can, but just get the hell out and head toward the lake. We’ve got to get out of this chopper, Paul—the heat is getting worse and it might set off the fuel. I’m going to check on the pilot.” They heard rustling and opening and closing helicopter doors. “The pilot is unconscious but alive. Can you help me, Paul? I don’t think I can carry him by myself. We’ve got to get him out of here.” They could see the image jostling about as Kristen and her photographer pulled the injured pilot, wearing no protective gear but a Nomex fireproof flight suit and rubber oxygen mask, out of the cockpit.