Tài liệu Nuclear Holocaust Never Again (Never Again Series, Book 2) ppt

LINK DOWNLOAD MIỄN PHÍ TÀI LIỆU "Tài liệu Nuclear Holocaust Never Again (Never Again Series, Book 2) ppt": http://123doc.vn/document/1046688-tai-lieu-nuclear-holocaust-never-again-never-again-series-book-2-ppt.htm

Relevant books by R.J. Rummel
Understanding Conflict and War (five volumes)
Lethal Politics: Soviet Genocide and Mass Murder
since 1917
China’s Bloody Century: Genocide and Mass Murder
since 1900
Democide: Nazi Genocide and Mass Murder
Death By Government
Statistics of Democide
Power Kills: Democracy as a Method of Nonviolence
Saving Lives, Enriching Life: Freedom as a Right
and a Moral Good (online book)

















To the unknown Joys and Johns
of this universe that fight and die
so that others may live in freedom









Acknowledgements


I owe many thanks to the thorough evaluation, many helpful sug-
gestions, and careful editing of Marg Gilks. Whatever strengths this
book has I owe to her. As with Book 1, I also am indebted to the many
visitors to my website at www.hawaii.edu/powerkills/ who commented
on or questioned the material there. They often had an impact on this
novel.
And as always and foremost, is my wife Grace. She made this novel
and series possible. Without her, I could not have written it. Another
kiss, sweetheart.
To be sure, this is a book of fiction. Although some characters may
in name and position bear a striking resemblance to historical figures,
they are fictional. Nonetheless, I must say that whatever errors of fic-
tional facts exist are mine, and wholly mine.







Foreword


As I pointed out in the foreword to War and Democide, Never
Again, Book 1 in this Never Again series, love is one of our greatest
mysteries and the greatest reward that we can receive and give others.
Here I revisit the story of the love between a man and a woman, and
their love for humanity, and continue my effort to uncover a subver-
sive, insidious, and almost invisible force in human relations. This is
the enemy of love and the struggle between the two pervades this book.
What is it? If you read Book 1, you will know. You can start here
with your eyes open, unlike the lovers thrust by me, a merciless author,
back in time again. But, this time, not alone.
R.J. Rummel
www.hawaii.edu/powerkills/




Chapter 1

New York
October 7, 1994, New Universe


ehind Lora, a sudden, blazing-white light cast everything into stark
black and white, like a photographic negative. “What the . . . ” Lora
blurted, just before a thunderous blast pushed her into the earth.
She shuddered, cringed from it. The sound hammered her for seconds,
then diminished like thunder reverberating in distant mountains; it less-
ened further into a distant crackling, breaking, tearing, clanging. Finally
it disappeared altogether, leaving a vacuum of sound, as though all
noise had been sucked into the earth. All were stony silent—birds, in-
sects, cars; no tree branch rustled, no voices called.
More seconds. She heard an approaching roar. Then, in a flurry of
leaves, broken branches, shingles, and small rocks, a hot windstorm
picked her up like a doll in a child’s hand and hurled her against a tree
trunk. All around, a maelstrom of banging, thudding, shattering, falling
things exploded in her ears. Stunned, the breath knocked out of her,
Lora gasped for air, tried to focus her eyes, tried to stop the world from
spinning.
A more profound stillness settled around her.
I’m dead.
No, Lora’s body screamed: that thudding was her heart; that salty
iron taste her blood; that grit on her lips, that smell, was the dirt cover-
ing her face. As if proving further her survival, excruciating pain
blasted her mind, and she let out an involuntary screech.
Her mind struggled against the shock and pain to gain control over
her body. She had to discover what had just happened. The world
steadied, her eyes focused, but nothing made any more sense than an
abstract painting of complex and intertwined lines, patches of color,
gray images, black holes. Then, as a strange image suddenly clicks into
an obvious picture, she realized her head was upside down and, through
the tangled branches of a shrub, she was watching an angry, roiling, red
and black mushroom cloud climbing above Manhattan to blacken the
morning sky.
B
R.J. Rummel

2
Sound gave up its paralysis in an eruption of distant screams, cries,
howling dogs, the metallic crunch of shattered cars, and breaking
things. Almost with regret, Lora recovered full consciousness. She was
sprawled upside down in a twig dogwood shrub with one leg against an
oak tree, her dress suit bunched around her chest, and her shoes gone.
Asteroid, it’s an asteroid. Its hit New York. It can’t be anything
else. After all, her mind spun out as if to defy the horror emerging in
her mind and the pain and nausea of her body, Joy and John eliminated
major international wars—against all odds, they succeeded. Their
peace has lasted for almost a century.
My God, this can’t be an attack.
Lora tried to reorient herself. Mark and I had breakfast . . . about
9:15 we locked our apartment . . . headed for our Institute in Manhat-
tan . . . garage being remodeled . . . car parked on Graham Street . . .
walking toward the car . . . .
MARK! Where’s Mark?
She tried to right herself, and gasped from another rush of pain. Her
right arm was twisted behind her. As she bent and turned to get at her
arm, she screamed. Her eyes teared, and she bit her lip. It felt like
somebody was cutting the muscles of her arm out with a dull, red-hot
knife.
Gritting her teeth, Lora rotated her body to disentangle herself from
the branches of the bush. Lying on her back, she pushed her body out
of the bushes with her legs. Panting, nauseated, she sat up and stared at
her right arm. It was broken near the elbow, the lower ulna and radius
bones twisted backwards at a right angle. White bones streaked with
blood protruded.
I can’t wait for help. A catastrophe has happened. I’ve got to find
Mark.
She jerked her eyes from street, to houses, to street, to trees. She fi-
nally located Mark leaning against a tree. Christ, his right arm can’t
bend at that angle.
“Mark. Mark! Can you hear me?”
He’s moving. He’s alive.
Lora gritted her teeth, gripped the broken segment of her arm, and
twisted. Agony made her squeal through her teeth. She straightened her
broken arm with her left hand. Dizzy, near vomiting, she held it gin-
gerly as she struggled to her knees, then staggered to her feet. She stood
swaying. Finally she checked her body for more injuries; saw scratches
and punctures, but they weren’t bleeding much.