Time to Burn

In my Chapter of the Month for June, Susan relates a story from early in the Soul Wars… and it gets personal! Time to Burn comes from my newly launched third novel, Journey of Souls, available NOW  here or at selected bookshops. Ebook/kindle edition on Amazon.

“The wars in South America had consolidated into a single battle. The soulless got the upper hand, crossed the Panama Canal, began to fight their way through Central America. By the time they reached Nicaragua, the US, Canada, and Mexico had formed the North American Alliance, ready to fight them every step of the way. After another year of bloody fighting, the soulless army was in the suburbs of Mexico City, moving towards the centre. Acting without the knowledge of his allies, President Haucarte put...”

“President Haucarte?”

“Yes, I’m afraid the idiot from my Special Council session at the UN had been elected president. His plan, Operation Big Cuckoo, was to plant a nuclear device in the centre of Mexico City, detonating it when the city was overrun by the soulless army. He hadn’t told the Mexicans, nor even the Canadians, but at 0600 hours that day he gave the order for the US forces to withdraw.

“As C Hour approached, he went live on national television to share his triumph with the American people. I tuned in to watch, sickened to see someone so crass he was prepared to use the deaths of millions to further his political career. At C minus five minutes, the screen split in two. The caption on the right read ‘President Haucarte, White House,’ the caption on the left was ‘Mission Control, Detroit.’”

“Detroit, wasn’t that...”

“MGIG’s world headquarters, yes. MGIG had developed the weapon, a particularly compact, but powerful atomic bomb. When Madam Scorpion appeared on the screen, I knew something terrible was going to happen, but I wasn’t prepared for what came next… no-one was.”

*

“Good evening, Mr President,” Madam Scorpion smiled into the camera.

“Good evening, Lady Lopez-Mortimer, may I express my personal gratitude, as well as the American people’s, for your organisation’s support on this project.”

“It’s our pleasure, Mr President, anything to help secure the future prosperity of our planet.”

“Is everything ready?”

“Of course, Mr President,” the camera pulled back to show a large red button on the desk in front of her.

Haucarte laughed, “That’s a little corny, ain’t it? Big red buttons went out with the cold war, back in the eighties.”

“Well, I thought it might look good on TV,” she laughed, “I even have a glamorous assistant ready to push it.”

The camera pulled back again to reveal a teenage girl with long, flaming-red hair. She wore dark makeup around the eyes, black lipstick, the rest of her face was pale: she resembled a skull on fire. Watching TV at home in England, Susan gasped in horror, “Cinder!”

“By the way, did you get my gift?” Madam Scorpion continued.

“What gift?” responded Haucarte.

“A case of vintage champagne, I was hoping we could share a toast at C Hour. I have a bottle of the same vintage here.” She held out a hand, someone passed her a bottle, and she poured champagne into two glasses sitting next to the red button. Passing a glass to Cinder, she held the other up in front of the camera, “You need to hurry if you’re going to join us, John. I wanted to toast your tremendous fortitude, your foresight as a great leader, one of the most famous presidents America ever had, up there with Washington, Lincoln, and Kennedy, the president who had the balls to tackle the soulless, do what had to be done.”

Haucarte turned to an aide, demanding to know where his champagne was.

“It’s been impounded by security, Mr President, they need to check...”

“Get it in here at once, on the double.”

“But, Mr President...”

“On the double, I said,” he snapped, then turned back to the camera; “I’m sorry, Lady Lopez-Mortimer, my people here can be a little overzealous.”

“Don’t worry, John, I do understand. But you don’t mind if we start without you?” Madam Scorpion and Cinder raised their glasses in a toast, then both took a sip of the champagne.

“Er, I’m not sure if we oughta have a minor drinking alcohol on live TV.”

“Oh, it’s fine John, it’s legal here in Mexico.”

“Mexico, I thought you were in Detroit?”

“No, we flew down to Mexico City so we could be closer to the action.”

Haucarte glanced behind him as two men arrived carrying a crate marked ‘Vintage Champagne, Compliments of MGIG’. Turning back to the camera, he stammered, “Er... er... Mexico City? Are you in a bunker or something?”

“No need for that,” Madam Scorpion smiled, “we’re thousands of miles from the blast zone.”

Behind Haucarte, his men had prised the crate open and were looking inside. At home in England, Susan jumped to her feet, screaming at the TV, “Get out, get out!”

“Er, it’s not champagne, Mr President,” said one of his men, “it’s er...”

“Goodbye, John,” said Madam Scorpion; “Cinder, would you do the honours, please.”

“Gladly,” Cinder reached for the red button.

“Don’t… no, don’t, Cinder,” implored Susan, as if her daughter could hear her.

“Time to burn, Mr President,” Cinder grinned.

She pressed the button.