Murray Hill || A Superhuman Tale - 1

Chapter Thirty-Three

"As near as I can piece together, the Soviets had nearly 400 Gifted soldiers in their ranks, all attached to some special unit. Many of those were very young or very old, and many had Gifts that weren't terribly useful. But they had more people like me in that one unit than had existed on the entire planet at any single point during ancient times. Worse, they had a small handful that were ...."

His voice trailed off, and he took another drink. "They had a small handful who were amazing. At least a dozen could fly. Several dozen more had that combination of speed, strength, and durability that made for perfect soldiers. They had many, many other Gifts among them."

Camille sat up in her chair and leaned an elbow on the table. She'd not touched the newly offered drink. Her eyes were focused eagerly on her storyteller, but with a certain trepidation.

"On 25 August," he said, "the day after Gorbachev's announcement, that Soviet unit staged a series of attacks on military and civilian targets in the US and Western Europe. The apparent goal was to bring about that Soviet–NATO war that so many people had expected for so many years. The attacks on the cities were uniform: Dominate the city center, destroy as many buildings as possible, and make the day as bloody as they could. Bonn, Paris, Rome, and London were all hit. NATO headquarters was attacked, as were a dozen other military sites in Germany and England." He cast her a short glance. "But I guess you know all that."

She nodded at what was common knowledge to any schoolkid, absent the true identity of the attackers.

"In the US, it seemed much worse. Beyond the teams that hit LA, Chicago, D.C., and New York, three Soviet teams tried to breach nuclear missile facilities in Montana and Colorado. I think their goal was to launch a nuke at the Soviet Union, to provoke a nuclear counterstrike. Thankfully, only one commando team succeeded in getting someone inside an active silo in Montana, and that person only managed to detonate a US warhead in the silo, itself." He looked over again. "I don't think you'll ever read about that in history class."

His almost casual reference to a nuclear detonation seemed to send a jolt through the young woman. "Oh, my God," she whispered between her fingers.

"For some reason," he said, "the attack on New York City was the worst. That cell had six members, three of whom could fly, and like all the attack teams, they wore armor of some magnesium-titanium alloy no one else had ever seen before. The suits were heavy but virtually impenetrable."

"It sounds like something from outer space," Camille ventured in a hushed whisper.

"Yeah ...." The memories were beyond unsettling, and he gave himself a shake. "Yeah. That was one of the things the government ran with at first."

"How did they stop them?"

"They didn't—at least not immediately. The attack in Manhattan started at 9:00 am, sharp, near Foley Square, and then the attackers just moved through the streets. If their targets had a pattern beyond just sowing chaos, no one ever figured out what it was."

"Somehow, their, um ... their support teams had smuggled in vast quantities of explosive and incendiary devices before the attacks. While the three commandoes on the ground went from building to building cutting gas lines, setting charges, and tossing incendiary devices, their colleagues in the air provided cover. By the time first responders arrived, at least a dozen major buildings already were on fire, and it was ... ghastly. The commandoes deliberately fired the buildings on the lower floors to ensure the occupants couldn't flee."

These last words caused Camille to gasp loudly, and she again hid her face in her hands.

"The first responders were their next target. The commandoes on the ground were all quick, strong, and incredibly efficient. They smashed anyone who got in their way. Police, firemen, and EMTs who tried to provide any organized support were attacked by the Soviet commandoes from the air. They hadn't even bothered to bring firearms ...."