Time always seemed to stop between detonation and ignition. Anxiety crept in like nausea, and the cosmonaut remained on the ledge, staring off into the misty gray distance, holding his breath.
It was the most thrilling and dreadful of things.
And then it happened, before he even realized it was done; the roar of the explosives ripping apart the defenseless glass house, puking orange fire and thick black smoke into the air. It leveled the nearby trees, shook the buildings, and the Fury could only speculate how much C4 his men packed into the greenhouse. Far more than was required, or within the realm of sanity or safety.
The explosion echoed through the valley, birds flew from their roosts in the canopy of the forest, and the Fury laughed with psychotic delight.
Debris fell like rain, tanks of pesticide and fertilizer blew up in the heat of the inferno; the reply to the question the first explosion had asked.
And how delightful it would be to walk through the flames and stand there among the burning rubble, to watch the fire consume everything, reduce it all to a thin layer of gray ash that would evenly coat his helmet when he emerged from the other side, and laugh for no other reason than the pure joy of destruction.
“No. If anyone should inquire, you were both right here the entire time. I will tell them the truth as I remember it: you tried your best to stop my terrible wicked plans, you and your sniper, whom I set on fire twice. Poor bastard narrowly escaped with his life.”
Even if Volgin had chose to look the other way, Krauss would demand some sort of punishment in retaliation, no doubt. And when the Colonel came looking for him, the cosmonaut would admit everything, and demand to know exactly what Yevgeny planned to do about it.
Below, men were starting to spill out into the yard, confused and disorientated as they stumbled toward the red-orange blaze just over the hill.
The Fury turned to look at the Major as the imaginary conversation played out in his head. “How do you feel, Adamska?”
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It was the most thrilling and dreadful of things.
And then it happened, before he even realized it was done; the roar of the explosives ripping apart the defenseless glass house, puking orange fire and thick black smoke into the air. It leveled the nearby trees, shook the buildings, and the Fury could only speculate how much C4 his men packed into the greenhouse. Far more than was required, or within the realm of sanity or safety.
The explosion echoed through the valley, birds flew from their roosts in the canopy of the forest, and the Fury laughed with psychotic delight.
Debris fell like rain, tanks of pesticide and fertilizer blew up in the heat of the inferno; the reply to the question the first explosion had asked.
And how delightful it would be to walk through the flames and stand there among the burning rubble, to watch the fire consume everything, reduce it all to a thin layer of gray ash that would evenly coat his helmet when he emerged from the other side, and laugh for no other reason than the pure joy of destruction.
“No. If anyone should inquire, you were both right here the entire time. I will tell them the truth as I remember it: you tried your best to stop my terrible wicked plans, you and your sniper, whom I set on fire twice. Poor bastard narrowly escaped with his life.”
Even if Volgin had chose to look the other way, Krauss would demand some sort of punishment in retaliation, no doubt. And when the Colonel came looking for him, the cosmonaut would admit everything, and demand to know exactly what Yevgeny planned to do about it.
Below, men were starting to spill out into the yard, confused and disorientated as they stumbled toward the red-orange blaze just over the hill.
The Fury turned to look at the Major as the imaginary conversation played out in his head. “How do you feel, Adamska?”
That was the most important question of all.