The End is Coming

Chapter Fifty-one

They had moved—silently but slowly because of Varakov—Rourke, had circumstances been differ-ent, would have liked to have examined the old man’s feet to see if perhaps some remedy for the man’s obvious pain would suggest itself. They were deep within the museum now, in what was apparently part of an Egyptian wing, glass cases dominating the high-ceilinged chamber, inside the cases ranks of mummies and sarcophagi, and about the hall various items of antiquity of Egypt-ian origin. The third Soviet SF-er had rejoined them, and now all three men stood guard at the entrance-ways, Varakov seated on a backless low wooden bench, Natalia huddled beside him—for all the world looking like an overly tall little girl. Rourke smiled.

Rourke stood, and beside him stood Captain Vladov.

General Varakov at last spoke. “There is little time—perhaps no time at all, but only God—if in-deed there is one—can determine that now.” A woman joined them—slightly built, what most men would call plain, but a prettiness about her. She walked over to stand beside and slightly be-hind Varakov, the bench separating them.

“Catherine,” Natalia murmured.

“Comrade Major Tiemerovna,” the woman smiled.

Varakov looked at the woman, her right hand going to rest for a second on his right shoulder, lovingly, Rourke thought, then moving it away, folding it inside her left hand, both hands held in front of her overly long uniform skirt.

Varakov continued to speak, “There is little time. So, very plain talk, Dr. Rourke. Natalia. Captain Vladov. First, Captain Vladov—after our discussion here, unless I am greatly mistaken, my niece and this man, Dr. Rourke—they will be go-ing to Colorado, to The Womb—all is ready for you and your Special Forces to accompany them?”

“Yes, comrade general,” Vladov answered.

“What are you talking about?” Rourke asked softly.

Varakov turned to Natalia. “Child—what does ionization of the atmosphere mean to you? You were very bright at the polytechnic—so tell this to me.”

“The air—it would become charged with electri-cal particles—and—”

“When the sun heated it,” Rourke interrupted, “the electrically charged particles would—”

Varakov continued to speak, interrupting Rourke. “You are correct—both of you. I had little education—it took me a great deal of time to grasp this idea. But soon, all will understand it.”

“You alluded to the end of the world,” Rourke whispered.

“In the Judeo-Christian Bible, I believe that God promises this man who built the big ship—”

“Noah,” Vladov said.

Varakov looked at him and smiled. “Noah—He promises Noah that the world would never again end by water flooding it over, but by fire instead.”

“I always thought that was a poor bargain on Noah’s part,” Rourke interjected. “I’d rather drown, I think, than burn to death.”

“But this will be swift, Dr. Rourke—so swift—so very swift.”

“Total ionization of the atmosphere,” Rourke murmured.

“Yes—the end of the world. It is coming. Per-haps,” and Varakov looked at a rectangular wrist-watch that seemed like something out of a 1940s movie or a museum, “in less than five hours, per-haps in another twenty-four hours after that, per-haps a few days. As best the data I have compiled can confirm, the total ionization should be com-plete within five days at the most—most likely, less than that. It will come at dawn, rolling through the sky, fire, consuming everything, the very air that we breathe, purging the Earth. Each sunrise for twenty-four hours will be the last sunrise, the fire storm sweeping the entire planet. Death for all living things, and should something by some quirk of fate survive, there will be no air to breathe for at least three hundred years afterward, nearer five hundred years before the oxygen content would be able to sustain higher life forms without special breathing apparatus. With this War we fought, this insanity—we have destroyed ourselves—fi-nally and irretrievably, and all mankind shall per-ish from the Earth forever.”

There was nothing John Thomas Rourke could think of to say.