Within minutes, every man, woman, child, and any other air-breathing creatures in Kunming are dead.

Town of Lensk,
Republic of Sakha, Russia

5:47 A.M.

Seventeen-year-old Pavel Pshenichny takes the ax from his younger brother, Nikolai, and steps out of the three-bedroom log cabin into a foot of freshly fallen snow. An icy morning wind howls in his ears, blistering his face. He adjusts his scarf, then trudges across the frozen yard to the wood pile.

The Sun is not yet up, but then who but a local could really tell in this desolate, gray region of permafrost. Pavel clears snow off the surface of a frozen tree stump, grabs a log from the woodpile, then positions it upright. With a groan, he swings the ax, the blade splitting the half-frozen block of wood into kindling.

As he reaches for another log, a brilliant flash of light causes him to look up.

Looming across the dimly lit, northern horizon of Lensk is a vast, snow-covered mountain range concealed behind the gray cloud cover of dawn. As Pavel watches, a bolt of white-hot lightning seems to ignite behind the clouds, the flash spreading out along the jagged peaks, which quickly disappear behind a growing layer of fog.

Seconds later a thunderous roar, as the ground shakes beneath his feet.

Avalanche?

The dense fog prevents Pavel from seeing the geological devastation taking place before his eyes. What the teenager can see is a rolling, grayish white cloud of snow expanding outward, the wave of energy racing toward him at unfathomable speed.

He drops the ax and runs. “Nikolai! Avalanche—avalanche!”

The nuclear blast wave lifts Pavel off his feet, driving him headfirst through the cabin door behind the wind speed of a force-five tornado. Before he can register the pain, the entire structure is blown off its foundation like a house of cards—the searing-hot gust of debris sweeping across the plain, consuming everything in its path.

Chichén Itza Yucatan Peninsula

10:56 P.M.

The black, dust-covered Chevy pickup with the missing rear fender cuts through the dense jungle, its worn shock absorbers squealing in protest as it bounces along the uneven dirt road. Approaching the chained gate, the truck skids to a stop.

Michael Gabriel jumps out from the driver’s side.

He examines the steel chain, then begins working the rusted padlock, using the truck’s headlights to see.

Dominique slides over to the driver’s seat as Mick pop opens the lock and removes the chain. Grinding the truck into gear, she drives forward through the open gate, then returns to the passenger side as he climbs back inside.

“That was impressive. Where’d you learn to pick locks?”

“Solitary confinement. Of course, it always helps if you have the key.”

“Where’d you get a key?”