The General

By Sam Worthington

Airliners leave cities around the world, all heading for Europe. By the time they arrive, the world has changed beyond recognition as MAD (mutually assured destruction) has happened. 4 planes land in France where they find a destroyed infrastructure, They set about surviving in an alien land with no power of other services. They need to secure the environment and ensure their future.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sam Worthington
• Release date: Sep 5, 2010
• ISBN: 9781452380216

Sam Worthington

Sam Worthington has been around for about twenty years working as a travel writer, bar and restaurant reviewer for several print publications as well as many websites. As can be seen from the website samworthington.com is a nom de plume of a successful restaurateur and publican. A student of economics Tim Randall was a keen politician in his youth and was member of the Hyde Park Tories and vice chairman of Chelsea Young Conservatives. He received international publicity as the pirate postmaster general during the postal strike of 1971. At that time he ran a building business in Chelsea and also was involved in various nightclubs as well as being a sort after party Disc Jockey. In the mid seventies, Sam worked for the electronic security industry selling advanced digital coding systems. In the early nineties Tim was the director of the Budapest Week, the first English Language paper in Eastern Europe (as it then was). He has worked in Turkey, Portugal, Holland, Italy, Spain, Hungary, Poland, Thailand and now lives in the Philippines: in addition he has traveled extensively in Europe, Asia and America.

Book preview

The General

by

Sam Worthington

Book 1 of the Aquitaine Trilogy:

The story of the Peoples of the Earth

Copyright© Sam Worthington 2009.

The right of Sam Worthington to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patent Act 1988

Published by Sam Worthington at Smashwords

Other books by the same author

The Constitution (2nd book in Aquitaine Trilogy)

The War (3rd book in Aquitaine Trilogy)

Kelly: The bar girl who would be president

Hookers Hero: Thriller based in 1970’s London

A Superlative View (as Tim Randall)

Food reviews at www.samworthington.com

Blog: www.asiabugle.com

Acknowledgement.

I would like to thank the following people for their help and advice in writing this book: David Dean for editorial and telecoms advice, Anthony Ainsworth (military), David Hallam (pilot), Bill Fitzgerald (engineer), wikipedia.com (who always had information when I asked), Keith Fitzgerald and Peter Hill (editing) and many, many others who have exchanged thoughts and ideas.

Nature does nothing uselessly.

Aristotle

Greek critic, philosopher, physicist and zoologist (384 BC to 322 BC)

This novel is a work of fiction and the characters and events in it exist only in its pages and in the author’s imagination.

Preface

Needless to say, what would really happen after a nuclear cataclysm is unknown. For that, we can at least be grateful, but this book is not about the rights and wrongs of nuclear weapons; it is about the aftermath of a catastrophic event - a doomsday scenario - that would allow a group of people to create a new community. My research (see the notes at the end of the book) suggests that the almost friendly environment I have created would probably be far from the truth, but we really do not know.

I hope the French will forgive me for borrowing their delightful country. It is in the right place and it was the perfect place to go and do the research. Need I say any more? Geographically, I have tried to use the land as it is.

As to the personalities, they all have to be fictitious, as these events have not happened. I hope that as you read the book you will understand my motives in writing this book. The main intention was to write a different and interesting adventure story and within that story I wanted to challenge some of today’s accepted norms.

This is the first of three books which will cover the progress of the new Aquitaine, from its chaotic rebirth to its rise as a super state. The people (the characters in the novel) will examine the society that disappeared in a nuclear cloud and decide what society they would like in the future, thus learning from the mistakes of the past.

Many nationalities are mentioned, as this is a new society created by people from all over the globe. I have travelled extensively and know there are no valid stereotypes. We are what we are: created by our environment, our education and our society. Thus, the children of the peoples of the Earth are exactly that: a melting pot of races and creeds working together for the good of themselves and their fellow man.

Chapter 1: The flight

Ted Dennison woke up as the plane rocked and rolled. It was the unusual motion that pulled him out of a light sleep. He was lying on the so-called flat bed of his first-class seat, so-called because, as a helpful cabin service officer had explained on an earlier flight, airlines flew with the nose trimmed up. So in fact a flat bed is not flat but head-down. But that was not what was concerning Ted as he woke up. It was the plane’s motion. Planes at this altitude bounced; they did not yaw. Next, he sensed rather than saw a bright flash. Lightning at 35,000 feet was unusual. Then the plane yawed and bucked again. By now, Ted was out of his doze and wide awake.

Where are we? He glanced across at the screen in front of the opposite empty seat. He had set up the map with the little plane and flight details on it, but the screen was blank. Maybe some helpful cabin attendant had turned it off. But no, the screen flickered almost in unison with a flash that showed up forward. The windows of the cabin had been covered by the stewardess when he started nodding off, but even in the cabin some light came through the porthole covers. More yawing and more unnatural movement and then ding-dong as the Fasten seatbelts light came on. A bit late, thought Ted. Don’t they have weather radar that should spot this stuff way ahead of getting to it? Looking at his watch, Ted worked out they were about five hours out of Bangkok – somewhere over Pakistan and Afghanistan. Not that far from the Himalayas; that could maybe explain something.

There was no more abnormal movement and no more flashes and Ted’s mind went back to the thoughts he was having as he dozed off. He was flying back to London from his retirement home in Thailand. Ted was 60 years old and semi-retired. Not fully retired because he was still the majority shareholder and chairman of the pub company he had set up more than 20 years ago. His son was in charge of day-to-day affairs and Ted was on his annual tour of inspection, although this year it was different. Ted had never been sure about leaving his son in charge, but overall, Ted reluctantly conceded, he had not done a bad job. But this year that was no longer so. A couple of the pubs were underperforming and his son wanted to sell them off. And Ted was not persuaded that this was the right move. His son had managed to oust the managers that Ted had left in charge and replaced them with younger, brighter managers, as his son described them.

Ted was convinced that this had something to do with his son’s wife: pretty – yes, sociable – yes, but also always after more. Selling the crown jewels, she reckoned, would enable her to keep up with many friends whose husbands worked for multinationals, had bigger houses and were always off on shopping holidays. Ted was suspicious and this trip of his was deviously conceived. He had purposely delayed his annual departure until the moment his son had announced his two-week May break. And now he would arrive a week before the son and wife were booked on their overseas trip. One week to see his son and two weeks when he could effectively take over and find out what was really going on. He knew most of the support staff and suppliers well; with his son out of the way, all would be revealed. While Ted looked forward to getting back into the cut and thrust of day-to-day management, he was not sure he really relished the likely row with his offspring.

Now that Ted’s mind was once more active, he could not doze off. He started thinking about the rollicking motion and the flashes that woke him up; it was all very strange and what had turned off the flight information screen? Then inevitably he wanted to use the lavatory; he tried putting it off but the need would not go away. Nothing for it, he conceded, and then spent minutes fighting with the electric controls of his seat. Damn thing would not go down when he wanted and now it would not go up. Ted concluded that these seats seemed to be designed for the minuscule; he was the converse. On the tall side of average height for a European, he was invariably told by his doctor, on his annual check-up at Samitivej Hospital in Bangkok: Khun Ted, it would be better if you could lose 15 kilos. Ted had a feeling the electric motor that drove his seat upwards was using just that line as it struggled to get him upright.

When Ted came out of the bathroom, he found the captain and the cabin service officer in conversation in the crew area. The captain was a European about Ted’s height and, unlike Ted, he had a mass of grey hair. He was an attractive man with a neat moustache and slight devil-may- care look; he was, Ted estimated, in his early fifties, while the shorter cabin service officer was probably early forties and Asian. They both looked at Ted and the cabin service officer said, Do you require anything, sir?

I think not, replied Ted, then saying to the captain, Strange to get lightning at this altitude.

The captain hesitated for a second before saying Yes, sir.

Ted caught the hesitation so he immediately followed up. Yes, and the aircraft movements were strange. It was almost as though we were in a gusting storm but I did not think you would get gusting winds up here.

Yes, sir, most unusual, the captain replied and made to turn away.

But Ted now knew something was amiss and he was not about to be brushed off so easily. And captain, the little airplane is gone!

The captain was not sure what Ted was referring to. However, he could hardly ignore a direct question. Sorry, sir, I do not understand your question, the last word fading as the penny dropped. So, rather too quickly, he added, Oh, we normally turn the tracker off at night.

Ted had spent far too long as an employer in some tricky businesses to not immediately suspect the captain was tiptoeing around the real answer. Also, he himself had flown this route on numerous occasions and knew the claim was untrue.

To Ted, the captain seemed an honest and pleasant type of man – a man Ted would enjoy a pint and laugh with in a pub. Of course he had a duty not to alarm passengers and he was seemingly obscuring the truth. But Ted’s mind was working overtime and he was far too curious a person to let go once he suspected something. Fortunately, he was coming from the bathroom in the passageway to the cockpit and thus he effectively blocked the captain’s escape route.

There was a moment’s silence and the cabin service officer jumped into the captain’s breach. If you would like to sit down, sir, I will get the cabin attendant to get you a drink. He moved to make it quite clear that Ted should go back to his seat.

Thank you, said Ted as he thought about this situation. Then he decided to jump in with both feet. He looked straight at the captain, making certain he had eye contact. I suppose the loss of GPS is no real problem to an old-school pilot like you. I am sure they never had that when you started out.

The captain was no poker player and his expression told Ted that he had not guessed wrong. Well, sir, you are right. GPS was not operating when I started flying, but what makes you think we are not using it?

The little plane, said Ted with a slight smile, You said it was turned off but the screen is still on, and I have never known it turned off on this flight before.

The captain stared back at Ted, wondering what to say; he was clearly not a man to tell a blatant lie. So Ted saved him the problem of an answer. Okay, I’m a smart arse! But I am also not stupid. I am not sure what has happened. I suspect it is nothing to do with the plane or you would not be standing here and would be heading for the nearest suitable airport. But I am sitting in 1A and if you need anyone to chat to, please feel free. I have been around the block. I might even be helpful. That is, assuming the problem is nothing to do with the aeroplane. That’s your speciality, Ted smiled at the captain, who was clearly perplexed as to how to answer.

Your seat, sir, was the cabin service officer’s clear order to Ted to leave it alone. Ted wondered what this man knew. As the person responsible for cabin services, he had to have discussed with the captain what had happened.

Ted complied and sat down, more curious than ever.

The flight progressed smoothly and, after a while, Ted once again dozed off, though this time with the seat back rather than flat. When he woke up, he realised the captain was sitting in the window seat opposite him on the far side of the plane. The captain was nursing a cup of coffee. To Ted, the temptation was irresistible and he buzzed his seat upright and walked round the bulkhead to the other side, nodding at the stewardess as he passed her. He then dropped into the empty seat opposite the captain with now a single aisle separating them. He smiled as the captain looked up when he arrived.

The captain nodded at Ted and said, I wondered how long it would take you to come and harass me.

Do you want me to go away? Ted replied.

No, it is okay. You might even amuse me for half an hour.

Ted smiled and said, You want my song-and-dance act?

The captain chuckled. I suspect not. So, before you mention it, what do you think is going on?

Ted was about to say he had no idea but realised that the skipper might actually want to talk about it to somebody. Well, he started as he gathered his thoughts, wondering exactly how far he would own up to what he was imagining. My only rather dramatic conclusion is that there has been some kind of nuclear incident involving at least three explosions. As far as I can figure, only that would explain what happened. If it had been cloud pillars with lightning in them, you would have seen them miles off on radar and you would have tried very hard to avoid them, and certainly you would have put on the seatbelt light when they got close. But apart from the lightning, the motion was wrong. This was sudden, high-gusting winds. I may stand corrected, but I am sure that does not happen at this altitude. And what killed the GPS system? A high-level electromagnetic pulse would. Or the Yanks could have turned it off, but somehow I doubt that. But you must know much more than I do.

The captain gave a wry smile. Just testing to see if you are as big a smart arse as you make out!

So, how did I do? Ted countered.

Not bad. Of course, we are not sure it was nuclear. But, whatever it was, at least three is right, but in the cockpit we saw some flickers a long way off on the far horizon, which would suggest a lot more than three. Even if, and I stress if, the first three were nuclear, they were all a long way from us. If they had been close, we would probably have not survived. And yes, that does seem to have killed the GPS system as well as all radio systems.

Ted thought for a moment. So you are flying blind? I think not.

No, my friend. As you pointed out, I have been around a long time and could use the stars if the worst came to the worst. For that matter, all pilots are trained to use the stars in an emergency, although I suspect most may have forgotten it all, whereas it was pretty well rammed into me when I started out. However, that is not required. When we took off, our course was in the computer with the bearings and run times calculated. Okay, this would have been checked against the GPS system, but if we have not got that, then the gyro compass and other instruments will do the job. And, needless to say, the job of us humans at the sharp end is to see we arrive where we are supposed to.

But, asked Ted, if other computers seem to have failed, why not yours? I mean, I presume lack of radio contact suggests that an electromagnetic pulse maybe the problem?

The captain shook his head. Be grateful for that – that if it was electromagnetic pulse, it passed us by – because if it had not, we would have fallen out of the sky. Ted looked quizzical and added, Everything on this Airbus is operated by computers. There is much built-in redundancy, which means several computers can fail. But if they all fail, well … put simply, nothing works. The engines would shut down and we would have no controls at all.

So we were lucky?

The captain thought for a moment. Put that way, I suppose we were.

So, what have you done about ..., Ted shrugged, well, everything?

The captain gave a small chuckle. Apart from upsetting my crew, very little. He realised that an explanation was required and he carried on. I was off duty and trying to sleep when the first shock hit. I am, of course, still in charge of the aircraft, so I went to the cockpit when the aircraft motion was wrong. Yes, the pitching and yawing should not happen up here. We quickly realised that the GPS was down and tried to raise the local ATC. That’s air traffic control, which was Pakistan and soon became Afghanistan. We got no response. We checked everything on the aircraft and could find nothing wrong. All systems seemed to be working and, as you know, we were hit by other blasts. I had an immediate suspicion as to what had happened and, let’s be honest, I think and you think this is nuclear, but we are not 100 per cent certain. Anyway, that is a pretty dramatic conclusion. SOP – standard operating procedure – would suggest that, as we had a major instrument failure, we should divert to the nearest friendly airport, assuming there was no immediate danger to the aircraft, or to the nearest suitable airport if there was a danger. By friendly, we mean an airport which this airline operates out of. So, that meant diverting to the Gulf. The other option would be to return to Bangkok; we were just over one-third distance. Well, I took the view that, bearing in mind where we were, the nuclear exchange may be between India and Pakistan, and therefore going back over India might not have been a clever move, and if the problem is more global, one has to suspect that the Gulf could quickly become involved. My chief officer stated that we must follow SOP and either divert or go back. I overruled him and said that, as there was nothing wrong with the aircraft, we should go on, and we have ample fuel to reach Europe. I have provisionally agreed that if we have no more problems and are still without GPS or land contact, we will land in Vienna, which is a friendly airport, and we will arrive shortly after dawn, so we will have daylight.

Ted thought for a moment. Sounds fair enough to me. I mean, if there are problems on the ground, you need to have good visibility when you are landing. Presumably, there will be no ATC. I hope there is or this thing is bigger than I want to think about.

A thought struck Ted. You have radar. Have you seen any other aircraft and would you expect to?

I wondered when you would get to that. That is what I was thinking about when you appeared. The answer is that we have radar, we have seen nobody else, and we would certainly expect to see a few other aircraft. The captain glanced at his watch. In about an hour, we will be over central Turkey. We should fly virtually over Ankara and Istanbul. If the situation is still the same there, then I will start thinking the worst. Meantime, we can do little but carry on. The captain then pointedly changed the subject. This seems a regular trip for you, sir: Holiday or business?

Ted immediately got the message and before long the two men were on first-name terms and telling each other about themselves. Ted learned the captain’s name was John Davidson; he was married with two young children because, as he put it to Ted, as a young captain he always had too good a time to settle down and it was not until his early forties that a scheming stewardess had dragged him to the altar. A decision, he hastened to add, he had no regrets about. Ted talked about his family and his career as an entrepreneur who had started several businesses – some with great success, others not so – until he finally lucked into pub restaurants, which had served him well, not just from trading in them but from the capital appreciation of the ones he owned freehold. He even revealed the impending problems of his trip ahead and said that he had been divorced many years ago – a divorce which he admitted had not been as expensive as it could have been, as it had happened when he was really struggling to make ends meet in the early 90s. A couple of years either way and she would have cleaned me out, he added. It was a happy, revealing chat, as Ted had expected it to be when he first spoke to the captain. They had even had a laugh about Bangkok and discussed its bars and nightlife. John had known Bangkok well over the years, quite often staying on two- and three-day layovers in the 80s and 90s when Bangkok was a major stopover destination on many Asian and Australian routes. They had common acquaintances among bar owners, as well as a few bar regulars. The time passed quickly and the stewardess kept the captain supplied with coffee while Ted drank water and a couple of cups of tea.

Abruptly, the captain glanced at his watch and jumped up. I had better go and see what is happening. I presume nothing has changed, as they had instructions to let me know if it does. I’ll let you know what is happening.

Ted returned to his seat and considered the situation; whichever way he looked at it did not bode well. As his new friend the captain had said, it was not necessarily a nuclear catastrophe, but the longer they travelled with no ground contact and no GPS, the more serious the situation looked.

It did not take long to get round to thinking about his family in England. Were they in danger or worse? On the whole, he liked his son, although he inevitably irritated him. He was very fond of the two grandsons he had and in many ways he enjoyed his daughter-in-law. She was always fun and chatty. He also had a daughter who was more career-orientated; she had never married but seemed to enjoy life as a solicitor, despite Ted’s general distrust of the legal profession. Ted knew they would have a few meals together and he would enjoy every minute, even if she would express concern about his living the Thailand. That got Ted on to thoughts of the press and the general negativity applied to Thailand. Some criticisms he may agree with, but on the whole it was a great place for him to live, and he did try to split his time between Asia and Europe, getting the best of both worlds.

Ted was slowly nodding off again when the stewardess appeared. Excuse me, Mr Dennison. The captain has asked you go to the cockpit. And then, as though she could not believe it, she added, We are not supposed to let anybody but crew members in the cockpit these days. It’s the rule.

Ted smiled and got up from his seat and moved forward. The stewardess knocked on the door and Ted was admitted. There were two pilots sitting in comfortable seats, side by side at the front, seemingly doing very little, and the captain was in a central seat behind the pilots. The lighting was low and rows of instruments glowed. As ever, Ted wondered what they all did.

Come in, Ted, and sit down. The captain moved out of his seat and offered it to Ted. He moved to the rear right corner of the small cockpit where he pulled down a jump seat. Now, let me introduce you to my crew. Chris in the left-hand seat is a senior pilot and Mark is our co-pilot. This guy is Ted Dennison, who seems like a knowledgeable sort of chap who might just be useful as we sort this mess out. Ted nodded greetings and Mark turned round and said Hi, though the other pilot barely acknowledged his presence.

Now, Ted, look straight ahead and what do you see?

Ted was perplexed and could only reply, Not a lot.

Exactly. That is the problem. What you are looking at is Istanbul and the Bosporus. I have flown over this point literally hundreds of times and I have never seen anything like this. And, before you ask, there is little or no cloud, so we should be able to see masses of lights, and the line of the Bosporus is usually all lit up.

Ted was still standing, so he could see clearly ahead. There was no moon but plenty of starlight and he thought he caught a glimpse of a reflection – from water, he presumed. He saw flickers on the ground and realised they must be fires. Some looked like big fires. I can see what I presume are fires; some look quite big, he said, and I suppose from six miles away one would not see that much.

It was Mark who answered. Yes, I can see what looks like fires, but there should be lights, not fires.

John was now standing and looking, Exactly. It looks to me like part of Istanbul is burning, but not in one place. And there is clearly no power. Sit down, Ted. He motioned to the seat already offered. This does not look good, he added.

Before Ted could reply, Chris interrupted from the left-hand pilot seat. We should have gone back to Bangkok as I suggested. And, captain, I must protest that having a passenger in the cockpit is most irregular.

Ted looked at the captain, who just raised his eyes and shook his head as Ted seemed about to speak. There was an uncomfortable silence.

John stood up and looked at Ted and they both left the cockpit together. He went to his seat and the captain followed but did not sit down. That was all to do with the cockpit voice recorder. All Chris wants is to be a captain, so he is terrified that, if I am deemed to have got it wrong, he will also be blamed. Sadly, our Chris is first and foremost a by-the-book and SOP specialist and thinks that will ensure he gets his promotion. Ironically enough, if I have anything to do with it, that is exactly why he should not be a captain. Sometimes, you have to use your nouse and do what you think is right, even if it means bending the odd rule. Ted nodded his agreement; he himself had never played by the rules. Anyway, added John, I had better go back and make certain we get to Vienna as planned. But I fear this is by no means over. We are within radio range of Vienna and we are getting no response. More concerning is the lack of other aircraft anywhere, either visually or on the radar. I will call you when we get to Vienna. With that, the captain hurried off.

Ted sat there and considered this eerie situation. He opened the window cover and noted that outside was getting lighter. Dawn was coming up behind the plane and would soon overtake it. Daylight would reveal much, although, peering outside, he sensed that the lack of any light on the ground was fuelling the little worm in the pit of his stomach – a feeling that only came at times of high drama.

Ted watched the light brighten outside and eventually the ground became visible as wispy clouds floated past. He closed his eyes and dozed for a few minutes at a time. As the sun brightened from behind, he suddenly realised he was staring at water. Lake Balaton, it had to be. The hills on the western shore were illuminated by the low sun, while the eastern shore still looked dark, although from this height it was difficult to indentify much more than one of the largest freshwater lakes in Europe. Vienna, Ted knew, was not far away. He realised the engine sound had fallen off and the plane was slowly descending. Maybe he would get a decent lunch in downtown Vienna; that was assuming they did not immediately go on to London.

Ding! the stewardesses’ phone went off. She answered and looked at Ted, who was already on his feet by the time she had put the hand-set down and turned to him.

As he entered the cockpit, he immediately sensed the tension and it was no longer between the captain and his senior pilot, who was now sitting in the central seat behind the two main pilot seats. He did not move when Ted entered, so Ted stood.

The captain, in the left-hand seat, turned as Ted entered. He pointed forward through the cockpit window and, for a few moments, Ted was not sure what he was looking at. It was the Danube that put the picture into perspective. The river was clear in the west but it then disappeared into a vast area of blackness. Blackness that smoked in places, blackness that was punctuated by bright flames of fire, blackness that seemed to have height in places, a height that was exaggerated by the low sun, and there was the blackness that seemed to fade on the edges where typical houses and roads appeared.

Ted did not know what to say, but realised a comment was required. Is that … was that Vienna?

There was a pause and finally Mark, still in the right-hand seat, spoke. Yes, but what has happened? I mean, a whole city does not just disappear.

More silence. It does, I suppose, if somebody dropped a nuclear bomb on it, Ted suggested.

Chris was looking positively white and frightened. Who would do that and why?

No answer.

The captain took over. Okay, so Vienna is out. Plan B? Ideas?

Nobody spoke for a minute and then Ted broke the silence. Zurich.

The captain thought for a few seconds. Yes, that makes sense. Nice neutral Switzerland and not far away. Let’s work out a course. Chris, can you find an airport layout in the file?

A few minutes passed while files and maps were found and a course calculated and the aircraft turned. Ted stood and let the enormity of it all sink in. Did that mean that Istanbul had been similarly hit? It seemed likely and where else? London seemed an obvious target. Had there been a full-scale nuclear war? Many questions and no answers.

The cabin service officer came into the cockpit after being summoned by the captain. His appearance and the refusal of the senior pilot to move created quite a crush in the small space that was available. Ted took the opportunity to navigate around the central seat and get to perch on the jump seat. He was amazed how little space there was in this area; certainly more coach than club, he surmised. In a few words, the captain explained the situation to the new arrival. The man was quite incredulous and seemed unable to accept what he was told. Then, almost as though he wanted to simply ignore the whole issue, he said that he would start the breakfast service.

Ted did not want to interfere but thought his new friend John had more than enough on his plate, so he suggested that maybe serving breakfast should be delayed. This earned him a furious look from the purser.

Why? asked the captain.

We are not sure where and when we are going to land and, wherever we do, we are likely to be held up on the plane as the formalities are sorted through. Why wake everybody up and get them all agitated when most people will still be sleeping?

Let sleeping dogs lie, eh, Ted, was the captain’s answer, and then he turned to the passenger manager. What do you think, Mongkol? Seems a good suggestion to me.

Mongkol gave Ted a furious stare. Yes, captain, if you say so, and stomped out of the cabin. Ted glanced at the captain, who gave him an almost-smile. The captain’s problems were mounting and Ted just hoped he was helping, not hindering.

He was staring ahead when he realised he was looking at another black patch with a pall of smoke over it. The aircraft had dropped to 20,000 feet over Vienna but was once again climbing and it was difficult to judge the size of the black area. But it was substantial and once again on the Danube. Ted had driven through this area and suddenly he remembered where it was. Linz, he said to nobody in particular.

Linz? The captain countered.

Straight ahead, answered Ted. Then the three pilots saw what Ted had seen.

What the heck. Mark was the first to react.

I do not understand, Chris remarked.

From his command position, John added his thoughts. I have a nasty feeling that this may become an all-too-familiar sight.

But Austria? Chris was simply disbelieving.

Ted had been thinking about it and tried to put everything into perspective. We are all bemused, but I think I am right in saying that the USA and Russia have more than 10,000 nuclear warheads between them, with often four or five attached to the same rocket. If for some reason they both got spooked into pressing the button, then hey! I should think nukes have gone everywhere. And, of course, there are lots of other countries with a few bombs, including the UK, and France has hundreds. I have no idea what has happened, but it looks like it is clearly not the odd nuke here and there. But that is just a guess and is based on what happened six hours ago when all this started and on what we have seen since. There are no really big ground fires, so one can only assume they have burned out, which means it all happened hours ago.

Chris was still trying to get to grips with the situation. How big do you think the bomb was and why is everything black?

Ted waited to see if anybody else had answers before saying, The fireball is the explosion. How big, I have no idea. I think I read somewhere that most strategic nukes are over 100 kilotons and there are some at 20 megatons. At 100 kilotons, the fireball would cover about two kilometres and at 20 megatons it would be 30 kilometres. Fortunately, I do not think they have many that big. John, you were in the RAF, you should know all about this.

That’s a long time ago, Ted, and all I did was fly heavy metal. Not what I wanted, but it set me up for this job, the captain answered. Okay, guys, we need to think this through. We had better make a passenger announcement fairly soon. Just a question of what we say.

Ted was about to jump in but thought maybe he had done enough for the time being, and to his relief, the young co-pilot came up with what he wanted to say. Captain, maybe we should wait till we get to Zurich. Then we can announce that we have been diverted.

We really should keep the passengers informed, interjected Chris.

You’re both right, was the captain’s tactful comment, As soon as we know we are landing at Zurich, we will make an announcement. It is just what and how much we say that we need to think about.

For a moment, Ted thought Chris was once again going to protest, but he held his silence, so Ted took the opportunity to try to make friends. The trouble was that Ted was thinking about one thing and trying to make light conversation. So, rather than a tactful enquiry, he said, They don’t train you for nuclear war. No SOP!

Fortunately, the senior pilot did not pick up the inferences, and he nodded before saying, Certainly not. But what do you know?

Ted had already kicked himself for a none-too-tactful question and therefore thought about his response. Well, in my life, I have had to deal with a few crises. Situations where there is nothing in the book about what to do. And I have to say that, after each experience, I think I learned something. However, at the moment, there is no real crisis here. That is, assuming you can land at Zurich. Of course, what this will have done for us individually we have no idea at this stage. But we all have our fears.

Yes, acknowledged the pilot. Then, as the plane moved on, they fell silent.

The next problem was the appearance of random cloud pillars that looked bad enough, to Ted’s inexperienced eye, from a distance. But from the weather radar, according to the captain, they were really bad news. We need to avoid those pillars. I am not sure what they are, but from the radar they are not simple clouds and they are very high, he announced to the cockpit in general. The other pilots nodded their agreement. So much for simple point-to-point navigation. Mark, you had better keep a course plotted. You know what: course, run times and speed so we have at least a dead reckoning to where we are.

Ted listened and watched as they weaved their way between the apparent storms; fortunately, they seemed a fair distance apart and not that numerous. Finally, he asked the question that was nagging him. John, forgive my ignorance, but these storm pillars. Are they usual?

John turned and looked at him. No way. Never seen this kind of pattern before. Storm fronts, yes, but what appear to be localised storms a few miles wide, no way. The captain paused. I know what you are thinking. He gave a wry smile. So am I. These have got to be the remains of nuclear bombs. The firestorm has sucked in moisture and god knows what else. Those pillars are probably not only full of radiation but dust and dirt and anything the firestorm sucked up. But at the moment they are not difficult to go round. I suppose sooner or later they will all join up and then it will be no fun up here, especially as they seem to go way above our ceiling.

The flight continued with no further drama until the next black city. It was Munich, they decided, and it looked as though more than one device had hit it. Of the airport there was no sign. They all just stared at blackness and fires and said very little. Everybody in the cockpit was now horribly aware that they were going to be touched, if not punched, by what had happened.

Ted had already had a bad premonition and was therefore not at all surprised when Mark said, Oh my God.

The captain turned grimly to Ted. Looks like neutrality did not suffice. I fear we need a plan C, or is it D?

Ted had already thought about the what-if, so he was prepared. Okay, this is worse than our worst nightmares, he began. Then he realised he was being puerile, but could not help from adding, Let us think about the full ramifications. Finally, he got to the point. We have to assume that there have been multiple strikes all over Europe. Pointing at the black hole that had once been Zurich, he added, "On the evidence of that, every major city is likely to have been targeted. Maybe one has escaped this fate. But we do not know which and where and we certainly do not have the fuel to search for it. All these strikes are, I presume, nuclear, which means radiation and I would think central Europe is awash with radiation, so we need to go west, mainly because the prevailing wind is westerly. Shannon in Ireland would be a good spot to head for, but do we