Those responsible for the security of the nation were now fully awake, more so than they had ever been. The colonel’s words had bored through their fatigue like a laser. “If this thing is unleashed, the population of the planet will be returned to the level of the dark ages or perhaps even earlier. The very existence of mankind could be threatened.” Like travelers awakening on a different planet, they were suddenly surrounded by a very unfamiliar landscape.
The gleaming silver tanker truck would not give up its secret easily. Only close inspection by a welder would reveal that the end cap had been skillfully reattached. Indeed, to motorists along the busy interstate, it appeared identical to thousands of other such trucks that crisscross the country each day. But, unlike them, it contained no liquid, other than the bottled water for the terrorists concealed inside. They slept fitfully, the endless scream of eighteen tires burning into their consciousness. From time to time they would awaken and smoke a cigarette, never looking toward the box at the rear of the steel cavern. It contained a weapon they could not fathom, a horrible weapon,
In the early years, Cuba’s president believed his regime would usher in a new world order, with Cuba taking its place amoung the great nations of the hemisphere. But the American embargo had put an end to that, plunging his country practically into the Stone Age. Gradually, bicycles replaced cars as fuel shortages compounded the scarcity of virtually every basic necessity. On walls throughout the capitol, Havana, dispirited citizens scrawled ‘In Cuba, death is redundant.’ As his country slipped deeper into oblivion, his hatred grew and he resolved to repay the Americans for what they had done.