World War Z_ An Oral History of the Zombie War ( PDFDrive )

The majority of refugees came from India, just passing through Pakistan in an attempt to reach
someplace safe. Those in Islamabad were quite willing to let them go. Better to pass the problem
along to another nation than have to deal with it themselves. Perhaps if we could have combined
our forces, coordinated a joint operation at some appropriately defensible location. I know the
plans were on the table. Pakistan’s south central mountains: the Pab, the Kirthar, the Central
Brahui range. We could have stopped any number of refugees, or living dead. Our plan was
refused. Some paranoid military attaché at their embassy told us outright that any foreign troops
on their soil would be seen as a declaration of war. I don’t know if their president ever saw our
proposal; our leaders never spoke to him directly. You see what I mean about India and Pakistan.
We didn’t have their relationship. The diplomatic machinery was not in place. For all we know this
little shit-eating colonel informed his government that we were attempting to annex their western
provinces!
But what could we do? Every day hundreds of thousands of people crossed our border, and of
those perhaps tens of thousands were infected! We had to take decisive action. We had to protect
ourselves!
There is a road that runs between our two countries. It is small by your standards, not even
paved in most places, but it was the main southern artery in Baluchistan. To cut it at just one place,
the Ketch River Bridge, would have effectively sealed off 60 percent of all refugee traffic. I flew
the mission myself, at night with a heavy escort. You didn’t need image intensifiers. You could see
the headlights from miles away, a long, thin white trail in the darkness. I could even see small-arms
flashes. The area was heavily infested. I targeted the bridge’s center foundation, which would be
the hardest part to repair. The bombs separated cleanly. They were high-explosive, conventional
ordnance, just enough to do the job. American aircraft, from when we used to be your allies of
convenience, used to destroy a bridge built with American aid for the same purpose. The irony was
not lost on the high command. Personally, I could have cared less. As soon as I felt my Phantom
lighten, I hit my burners, waited for my observer plane’s report, and prayed with all my might that
the Pakistanis wouldn’t retaliate.
Of course my prayers went unanswered. Three hours later their garrison at Qila Safed shot up
our border station. I know now that our president and Ayatollah were willing to stand down. We’d
gotten what we wanted, they’d gotten their revenge. Tit for tat, let it go. But who was going to tell
the other side? Their embassy in Tehran had destroyed its codes and radios. That sonofabitching
colonel had shot himself rather than betray any “state secrets.” We had no hotline, no diplomatic
channels. We didn’t know how to contact the Pakistani leadership. We didn’t even know if there
was any leadership left. It was such a mess, confusion turning to anger, anger turning on our
neighbors. Every hour the conflict escalated. Border clashes, air strikes. It happened so fast, just
three days of conventional warfare, neither side having any clear objective, just panicked rage.
[He shrugs.]
We created a beast, a nuclear monster that neither side could tame…Tehran, Islamabad, Qom,
Lahore, Bandar Abbas, Ormara, Emam Khomeyni, Faisalabad. No one knows how many died in the
blasts or would die when the radiation clouds began to spread over our countries, over India,
Southeast Asia, the Pacific, over America.
No one thought it could happen, not between us. For God’s sake, they helped us build our nuclear