Extinction (38 page)

She whispered, “I’m sorry,” as she picked up the ugly carcass. Then she started to collect dry grass for making a fire.

*   *   *

After finishing their lunch, Layla and the boys hiked for three hours, going five miles farther north on the mountain trail. But they were still nowhere near the northern end of the ravine. If anything, the snowcapped peaks seemed even higher in this part of the range. On top of the highest summit Layla saw a tall radio tower, with a prefab trailer at its base.

During the first two hours of their march, the boys had been energized by their meal of roasted raven—which hadn’t tasted so bad, actually—but now they were lagging. Layla tried to encourage them to walk faster by singing various songs she thought they might recognize. She was in the middle of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” when they came around a bend in the trail and saw a broad shelf of rock jutting from the mountainside. The shelf was covered with a thin layer of soil, and rooted in the dirt were half a dozen dead trees. Standing below the farthest tree, about a hundred yards away, were the first two people Layla had seen since she escaped from the Operations Center. She grabbed the boys and ducked behind a boulder.

Jesus,
she thought,
what an idiot I’ve been, singing those stupid songs!
Now everyone within earshot knew there was an English speaker on this mountain. But when she peered around the edge of the boulder, she saw the two figures still standing under the dead tree, apparently oblivious. They were a man and a woman, both elderly and dressed in rags. The man was stripping bark off the trunk and passing the pieces to the woman, who stuffed them into a cloth sack. Squinting, Layla caught a glimpse of their faces, which were gaunt and wrinkled. Their hearing was probably bad, she thought, which explained why they hadn’t noticed the singing. What’s more, they definitely weren’t Modules. Supreme Harmony wouldn’t incorporate such old people.

Layla made a decision. She grasped the boys’ hands and looked at them intently. “Wu Dan, Li Tung, I need you to do something. I want you to go to those two people.” To make herself clear, she pointed at the boys and then at the old couple. “Talk to them, okay? Tell them you’re hungry, you’re tired,
w
ŏ
è le, w
ŏ
lèi le
. They seem like nice old folks, so they’ll probably help you. But don’t tell them your names or where you live, all right? Because if you do, they might send you back to
Tài Hé
.” Frowning, she pointed south, toward the Operations Center. She could tell from the frightened looks on the boys’ faces that they understood this last sentence at least.

Staying behind the boulder, Layla pushed the boys forward. She assumed it would be less confusing for the old folks if she remained hidden. Wu Dan and Li Tung walked hesitantly down the trail at first, but after a few seconds they broke into a run and yelled “
W
ŏ
è le! W
ŏ
lèi le!
” as loudly as they could. The man and woman stopped stripping bark off the tree and stared at the frantic children, who made for an unusual sight with their shaved heads and school uniforms. But instead of greeting the boys and asking them what’s wrong, the old couple started shouting angrily and sweeping their arms in furious “Go away!” gestures. The boys stopped in their tracks, bewildered. Layla was also puzzled—what was wrong with these people? The old man picked up a stick and waved it at the children, while his wife hefted the sack of bark and retreated northward, following the trail around another bend in the mountainside.

As Layla watched the old woman disappear around the bend and the old man slowly back away from the schoolboys, the explanation became clear to her. The elderly couple wasn’t supposed to be there. They were trespassing on government property to collect firewood, and they were terrified that someone would report them. Still, the encounter wasn’t a total loss. Now Layla knew they weren’t far from a village. If she and the boys just followed the trail a few miles farther north, they were bound to come across some friendlier people.

And while she was entertaining this optimistic thought, she saw the old woman again, running back to her husband. The woman dropped the sack of bark and screamed in Mandarin. Behind her, a small gray cloud came into view, gliding around the bend in the trail. The old woman looked over her shoulder and fell to the ground, and a thick tendril from the gray cloud descended upon her. The rest of the swarm charged forward, rushing toward the old man and the schoolboys.

SIXTY-FIVE

Supreme Harmony observed the beginning of the war.

The first shot was fired from the Xichang Launch Center in Sichuan Province. An SC-19 rocket roared into space and released its payload, a guided missile that streaked above the atmosphere at 30,000 kilometers per hour. Supreme Harmony was linked to the Chinese orbital-tracking systems, so it was able to watch the missile rise to an altitude of 700 kilometers and approach the American reconnaissance satellite. Designated Lacrosse 5, the satellite was passing over the East China Sea, in position to provide radar coverage for the swath of ocean around the U.S. Seventh Fleet. At exactly 4:32
P.M
. China standard time, the guided missile slammed into Lacrosse 5, instantly turning the orbital radar station into fifteen tons of high-speed debris.

At the same time, an army of hackers organized by the Chinese government launched a series of cyberattacks against the American telecommunications grid. Supreme Harmony sensed an enormous surge of data streaming from thousands of computers across China and flowing through the fiber-optic lines under the Pacific Ocean. The attacks focused on the U.S. Defense Department networks that carried command-and-control communications. The data surge clogged the network hubs, disrupting the links between the Pentagon and its overseas forces. Supreme Harmony knew all too well what happened to a network when its communications were disrupted. Without guidance from their headquarters and reconnaissance of their surroundings, the Seventh Fleet’s aircraft-carrier strike force became exquisitely vulnerable.

The next attack came from the coastal province of Zhejiang. One hundred and three mobile rocket launchers had been positioned close to the seashore, each carrying a Dongfeng 21 medium-range ballistic missile. The first barrage of missiles was launched at 4:33
P.M.
Supreme Harmony observed their trajectories by accessing the data stream from Yaogan 9, the Chinese radar satellite that was now the only surveillance station over the East China Sea. The satellite also revealed the location of the Seventh Fleet’s strike force, which was six hundred kilometers east of the Zhejiang seacoast. The U.S.S.
George Washington
, a nuclear-powered Nimitz-class carrier loaded with nearly a hundred Super Hornet fighter-bomber jets, cruised at the center of the flotilla, surrounded by two Ticonderoga-class cruisers and six Arleigh Burke–class destroyers.

Within five minutes, the Dongfeng missiles hurtled above the atmosphere, arcing through space at the highest points of their trajectories. By this time, the Aegis combat systems aboard the American cruisers and destroyers had detected the incoming barrage and launched dozens of SM-3 interceptor rockets designed to smash into the ballistic missiles in midflight. Viewing the radar images from the Yaogan 9 satellite, Supreme Harmony observed the American interceptors home in on the Chinese missiles and obliterate a substantial fraction of them. But more than half of the Dongfengs made it through the Aegis defense shield, and their maneuverable reentry vehicles plunged back into the atmosphere above the carrier strike force. Each reentry vehicle carried a warhead with half a ton of chemical explosives. Guided by the satellite radar data, a dozen warheads punched through the
George Washington
’s flight deck and exploded deep inside the aircraft carrier. The other missiles converged on the cruisers and destroyers in the flotilla.

Cheers erupted inside the People’s Liberation Army command center in the Western Hills section of Beijing. Module 73, formerly Minister Deng of the Guoanbu, stood beside the vice president and a dozen PLA generals, who shouted triumphantly as they watched the progress of the battle on their radar screens. The vice president seemed particularly joyful. The portly leader swaggered across the room, shaking hands with every general. When he finally returned to Module 73, Supreme Harmony observed that the man’s body temperature was abnormally elevated. The vice president hadn’t slept in thirty-six hours. His forehead glistened with sweat.

“What a victory!” he yelled. “We’ve sunk the
George Washington
, the
Shiloh,
and two of their destroyers! And soon we’ll reload the mobile launchers and throw another round of Dongfengs at them!” He clapped a heavy hand on the Module’s shoulder. “Those arrogant Americans! Can you believe that they’d send their fleet so close to our coastline after what their CIA just did to us?”

The Module nodded. The timing of the fleet’s maneuvers had been quite fortunate. “They never suspected we could hurt them so badly. This will be a harsh lesson for them.”

“And it’s not over yet! As soon as we destroy the rest of their warships, we’ll begin the invasion of Taiwan. Our missiles have already devastated the island’s airfields and naval bases. And the Taiwanese can’t expect any help from the Americans now that we’ve annihilated the Seventh Fleet.” He let go of the Module’s shoulder and pointed at the radar screens. “It’ll take weeks for another American carrier group to get here. By then our ground troops will be in full control of the island.”

Module 73 had to suppress a smile. The vice president was blind to his own arrogance. But this kind of thinking, Supreme Harmony recognized, was simply the logic of war. Every victorious combatant assumed his victories would go on forever. “Thanks to your leadership, something good will come out of this catastrophe. China will finally be reunified.”

“And the Americans will think twice before interfering with our sovereignty again.” The vice president clenched his hands. “From now on, they will fear and respect us!”

The Module nodded again in agreement, but Supreme Harmony knew the American response would be more forceful than the vice president anticipated. The network was already preparing itself by hardening its communications systems and dispersing its Modules across China, moving most of them to bomb shelters and other secure locations. “Yes, you’re right. A new day is dawning.”

The vice president continued exulting for several minutes. Then he let out a tired breath and glanced at his watch. “Ah hell, look at the time. I hate to leave now, but I must go home. I have to catch a few hours of sleep before the next meeting of the Standing Committee.”

Supreme Harmony recognized an opportunity. The network had accessed the Guoanbu files containing biographical information on all the Communist Party leaders. According to one of the classified documents, the vice president had a weakness for baijiu, the traditional Chinese liquor. “Why don’t you let me give you a ride?” the Module said. “I have a bottle of Moutai in my limousine. We can drink a toast to the success of your operation.”

Moutai was one of the most expensive brands of baijiu. The vice president raised an eyebrow. “That’s a very generous offer, Minister Deng. But is there room for my bodyguards in your car? I have three of them today, because of the emergency.”

“You don’t need your bodyguards when you’re with the minister of State Security. As you can imagine, a rather large security detail is at my disposal.” Module 73 turned around and pointed to Modules 16, 17, and 18, who were posing as his bodyguards.

The vice president smiled. He was clearly hoping to be persuaded. “Well, in that case, what are we waiting for?”

SIXTY-SIX

There were more soldiers at the border than Kirsten had expected. As she drove through the mountains on the Chinese side of the border, she got stuck behind a convoy of PLA trucks, which rumbled at a glacial pace down the narrow road. When she finally arrived in the late afternoon at the gritty town of Pianma, the main street was so jammed with vehicles and soldiers that she had to get out of her sedan and walk. PLA officers stood in the middle of the road and shouted orders at the infantrymen, who jumped out of their trucks and assembled in long columns. Then they marched by the hundreds toward the Burmese border, which was less than a kilometer beyond the town.

Kirsten tried to blend in with the townspeople. About half were Chinese and half were Lisu, one of the ethnic minority groups living in Yunnan Province. The Lisu women had dark complexions and wore colorful ankle-length skirts. They shook their heads as they watched the military activity, obviously puzzled by the PLA’s sudden deployment at the border. And Kirsten was puzzled, too. It was logical that the army would go on alert after the disaster at the Three Gorges Dam, but why had the soldiers come
here
? Although the Burmese border was thick with smugglers and rebellious Kachin militiamen, it seemed odd that the PLA would launch an operation against them now, when it should’ve been preoccupied with the rescue efforts in the Yangtze floodplain. Kirsten suspected that Supreme Harmony had engineered this buildup, but she couldn’t say why.

She employed an old trick to find the local smugglers, a tactic Jim Pierce had taught her long ago. When you’re in a border town, he’d told her, just look for the fanciest car. In all likelihood, it belonged to either the head of the smuggling ring or one of the officials he was paying off. Pianma was a relatively small town, and in less than ten minutes Kirsten found a beautiful black Mercedes parked on a side street. The car sat in front of a shop selling women’s clothing. This was a lucky break for Kirsten—she really needed a new blouse. She entered the shop and quickly perused the clothing, which was a drab mix of pants, shirts, and underwear. There were no other customers in the place and the merchandise looked old. Kirsten guessed that the shop was just a front for the smugglers, a convenient location for arranging their deals.