UnBooks:Nuclear Football

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The story that follows is based on true events. It takes place between 15:25pm and 15:32pm EST September 31st, 2020 in Baltimore, Maryland.


The plan was in place. Daniel had set everything up. The President would leave the game midway through the third quarter, his entourage following with him. It would surely be there with him too. Luis checked the score of the game. The Ravens were beating the LA Jaguars 52-12 and had the ball. No reason for POTUS to stay longer than expected. Everything was just as planned.

For too long he had been degraded. Too many of his friends and family had been caught. There was no turning back now. The President's reelection was all but assured. It could not be allowed. That would not be allowed. Four years of training had led to this. It was the first moment the president's guard was let down. It was the first opportunity to strike. It could not be missed.

Daniel was about to turn the game off when suddenly a referee struggling to bring a ball onto the field appeared on screen. Luis' whole group looked incredulously at each other. No one could possibly be that stupid, but sure enough, when he dropped the ball, it fell heavily and left a dent on the turf. Everyone laughed. Javier couldn't stop laughing. He looked ecstatic. Everything was going better than expected. Nothing could stop us now, Luis thought. In only minutes, the world as everyone knew it would be changed forever. Luis just hoped he was up to the task.


Chad good football man.

"Blue Five Two! Blue Five Two!"

Check defense. Covermen play tight. Man-2-Man. Left Middleman blitz. Center Middleman zone.


Left Backman come forward. Get in front of Catchman. All Chad see. Go time.


Hands prepared receive ball. Fleshy nether regions of Center twitch slightly. Chad get ball from between Centerman legs. Chad has ball in hands. All is good.

Chad took step back, watch defense. Ball feel different. Chad life is holding ball. Throwing ball. Chad know how ball feel. This ball different. Heavy. Texture weird. Chad no like.

Chad took another step back. Center no block Tackleman. Tackleman run straight for Chad. Center fall down. Tackleman dive for Chad, Chad spin left. Tackleman grab for air, fall down. Chad laugh in head. Continue search open Catchman. Another Tackleman dive Chad legs. Chad jump. Tackleman look dumb. Chad first Quarterman get 100 agility in Madden game. Chad prove why.

Chad took another step back. Center still on ground. Not moving. Catchmen not open. Chad wait. Ball feel weird. Chad no like. Chad need throw ball.


Luis wished his group could play it cool. Get in close through subterfuge. But the very essence of who they all are would give them away at first glance. It has to be this way.

"Alright everyone, this is it," Daniel announced tensely from the back of their windowless, unmarked van. He gave Luis a nod. Luis returned it. He thought he might throw up, but everything he ever believed in was riding on this.

Carlos in the driver's seat started the van. They kept their lights off. The dank underground garage around them glimmered with a faint light.


Run "Chad Throw Hard" play! Go!

Chad run right. Tacklemen no there. Catchmen still covered. Chad fast. 100 speed rating in Madden football game. Ball heavy. Chad feel slow. Right hand tingling. Centerman still on ground. Shaking. Twitching. One Catchman stop running. Check on Center. Chad no like. Catchman need run. Get open. Catch Chad famous hard pass. Chad get 100 Throw Power Madden Rating. Announcerman say Chad arm like nuclear cannon. Chad throw ball like nuclear missle. Chad like announcer. Chad like throw ball hard.

Catchmen still no open. Half team no play. Team watch Center. Center mouth foaming. Tacklemen come. Chad need Catchmen open. Chad arm feel funny. Chad need throw ball.



Normally Rufus would have skipped out early from his security position at the stadium to call his girlfriend Jessica, but it's not every day you have a chance to meet the president. It started out so cool. Shaking hands with the man, himself, in a hallway within the bowels of the stadium. They shared a smile. Rufus got to see all his secret servicemen, plus the squirrely guy with the briefcase handcuffed to his arm. Rufus then showed them the way to the garage. They got out, and for once in his life, Rufus decided to go the extra mile. What if, he thought to himself, what if there are masked murderers chasing after the president? What if they try to come down the same hallway we just walked down? That one secret service guy did look nervous. Said he had a bad feeling. I won't be the man responsible for the president getting killed like that, he thought. So after they got out the hallway door and into the garage, he closed and locked the door behind him. There was no way to unlock this door from the outside, so he would have to make a long trek around the stadium to get back in, but it was worth it. For the president!

"What in the hell did you just do?!" asked the nervous agent.

"Locked the door behind us in case crazed masked murderers try running through the hallway after us," Rufus squeaked back.

"Don't do that. Unlock it."

"I... uh... I can't sir."

"You... you WHAT?!" the agent screamed back at him.

"This is a special door, can be locked from the outside, but not unlocked. It's an exit," Rufus answered. The agent looked pissed.

"God damnit! No! You don't do that! We have to have a fallback position just in case," he screamed at Rufus. Rufus opened his mouth, but the agent cut him off, and pointed at him. "No. I know what you are about to say, but under no circumstances are you allowed to ask that question."

"Oh, give the poor kid a break," the president said boisterously towards his agent. "You worry too much. We eradicated crime in this country, remember Brock?"

"I know, sir," Brock, the agent answered, still looking at, and pointing a finger at Rufus. "But you can never be too careful, like I said." He glanced back towards the president. "Just in case."

"JUST IN CASE OF WHAT?!" Rufus screamed, seeing his chance now that the agent was not focusing on him. Suddenly, a white, unmarked van came screaming around a turn in the garage and headed right for them.

"SON OF A BITCH! YOU FUCKING IDIOT," Brock screamed at him. A few agents began trying to get the president to a safer location. Other agents began to fire at the van. Brock grabbed Rufus, and forcibly moved him to the ground. Men started jumping out of the van as it veered into the presidential limo. The air screamed as metal met metal.

Brock began screaming. "For the love of God, stay do-" A bullet hit hit him right in the head, the coward, Rufus thought. And he never answered his question.

"It's the Mexicans," he heard someone yell. Oh shit, Rufus thought. He got up and ran. It's what Brock would have wanted. He had to survive for Jessica, who was totally his girlfriend, no matter what the restraining order said.


If you're going to attack a foreign president, attack with a little patriotism.


Gunfire on every side of him. Luis was trapped. The plan called for him to jump out of the van, but he had forgotten to unlock the door. Carlos always made fun of him for locking his door, as crime throughout America had been eradicated, but it was part of his routine. He took a mental note to unlock the door the next time he needed to attack the president.

The van had crashed into the presidential limo. Carlos was shot before he could get out too. His body slumped forward over the steering wheel. His brain splattering the back and roof of the van. The men in the back had gotten out. The shootout was going full bore. Luis had slumped down in the vehicle, hoping not to be seen out of embarrassment, but now he was trapped in the the mess of metal around him. Trapped and scared.

His head was pounding from the impact and the sounds of gunshots going off all around him. A mix of white and black dots scattered in front of him, mixing with the air, heavy with smoke. He shook his head, and felt a little clearer. On his right was the door. It was still closed, but slightly ajar from the impact. He kicked it with his right leg. It moved ever so slightly. He did it again, it was inching open. One more kick, the hardest kick he had given in his entire life, and with a scream of metal biting metal, the door wrenched free from its hinges, flying out a full ten feet from the van. He heard the shooting stop.

"Oh, shit! That was like something from a movie or something! What in the hell did they bring with 'em?" He heard one man shout.

"I don't know what kind of mutant behemoth these monsters could have brought with them. Be ready for anything," another one answered. He could even hear his own group muttering in awe. That was actually sweet as shit, Luis thought. Now time for my grand entrance. He readied his gun, and slid himself out of the van, landing on his left foot.

Luis screamed like a five year old girl. His left leg was horrifically broken. He fell over in a heap. Everyone laughed. Juan was laying to his left, wounded and dying. He was crying with laughter. A full belly laugh, something incredibly difficult for a man who had just been shot in the stomach. Somebody fired a shot. "Oh shit, I forgot," someone else screamed. More gunfire. Juan died with a smile on his face. Luis felt faint. He heard Daniel scream something that sounded suspiciously like "humiliating." The bag, Luis thought. I have to get to the bag. The bag...

Everything went black.


"I've never seen anything like this! I don't know if there is a serious situation on the field, or some ploy by these Baltimore Ravens," Jimmy screamed into the microphone. "Half of the Ravens have stopped playing completely to check on the team's center Darius Fagellen, and the other half seems to be trying to complete the play. Chad Brunswick, for his part, is taking no pity on Fagellen, and this makes me think the Ravens may be up to some kind of trick play here." Jimmy wiped a thin layer of sweat that had accumulated on his hands off on his pants. "Brunswick spins away from two more defenders and stiff-arms a third! This young man wasn't the first quarterback given a 100 stiff-arm rating in Madden for no reason. I'm checking the clock and it looks like we are four minutes and twenty eight seconds into this play. Brunswick is as elusive as he is patient. He will find someone open to throw it to if it kills him!"

Jimmy let out a gasp. He felt faint. "Ladies and gentlemen, I don't know how to explain this to you, but it looks like Darius Fagellen's right arm has seperated fully from his body... Most of the players from both teams have stopped. A few are vomiting on the field, and still Chad Brunswick continues to look for someone open to throw the ball to! This has got to be some kind of trick.... please let it be a trick!" Jimmy tried to remember to breathe. What in the hell is going on?



"Jessica, baby, I know you made a joke that you would delete all my messages, but when you get this one, call the police. Some Mexicans are trying to kill the president! I love you. So happy you are safe in Seattle. Call me!"

Jessica would surely get some police to help the president and him now. He wish he could be back at home, laying on his back, pleasuring himself as Jessica threatened to have him arrested if he called her again. Instead he was laying facedown on the concrete of the stadium parking garage, wondering how he would get out of this mess.

All hell had broken loose again after the short moment of levity brought on by that pussy with the broken leg. But now, there were only a few gunshots here and there. He heard someone screaming in their crazy nutso language- Thank God the president had outlawed that one- another two shots, and just like that it was over.

"Sir, are you alright sir? Jesus, you've been shot!" The agent looked crestfallen. The president moved his lips, and the agent pulled his ear closer to the man. "Yes, sir. We got all them Mexican sons of bitches." This made the president smile. He coughed, and blood came out. Rufus moved closer. He heard the president say something about the "Border bandit bastards."

The agent was fumbling for his radio. He was trying to call for backup, and an ambulance. He didn't see the man with the broken leg moving. The shot came suddenly. It hit him in the chest. He fell. The president's face filled with rage.

Rufus couldn't take all this. He closed his eyes, and plugged his ears. It was too much. He went into the fetal position and hummed a tune. He had to find his happy place: On the phone with Jessica.


Our greatest president

Luis was up through only sheer force of will. He would not let his story end like that. He refused. His gun was in his hand, and he was crawling on his hands and good leg towards the president and dead agents. Occasionally the gun would go off in his hand, but it didn't matter any more. He looked over. The president was alive, but dying. He crawled to the dead man with the bag handcuffed to his arm, and drug him closer to the president. The man stared at Luis with a soul full of hate.

"It's good to finally meet you President Trump." Trump tried to say something but he was cut off by Luis. "Oh, no, I don't think now is a good time to talk sir. You've done enough of that." Luis pulled a key out of the president's pocket, and used it to unlock the bag. He continued to talk as he looked through its contents. "I'm sorry it had to come to this, but your xenophobia and hatred of my people has made us desperate. You expelled us from your country, legal and illegal alike. You say your wall is cause for the end of violence in this country, but we both know your illegal spy programs have had a lot more to do with that than anything else. Safety traded for freedom. Such a low price for you, huh? But here we are. Your system has failed."

Jesus Christ, Luis thought to himself. This is so cool! I'm monologuing... At the president! More movie shit! Okay, don't let this move moment end like the last one. He had everything he needed. The time had come. Don't screw this up.

Trump looked like a defeated, little man. Perhaps he always was. "Oh, don't look at me that way, Donald. If it wasn't us, someone else would have done this to you. Fascism begets revolution, always. Now I have the satchel, your nuclear football. I have the codes to send nuclear missiles flying wherever I want. I have the locations of your data collection arrays. Your country's programs are done for. The scope of everything will be laid bare. The world will see all. Any last words?"

President Trump coughed. His voice was almost nothing. Less than a whisper. Luis leaned closer to hear. Closer. Trump spit in his face, and smiled a bloody smile. Luis shot him dead, and smiled right back at him.

He went back to the satchel. He was ready. The computer was ready. He just needed to hit enter. Suddenly, a gunshot. One of the Secret Service agents had, with their last breath, shot Luis in the back. Luis fell over. He couldn't move, but it was too late.

The backup plan was already in motion.

Fill one of the footballs with uranium, Javier says. It'll make all the players sick, he says. It was, admittedly, a stupid plan. The uranium ball was incredibly heavy and couldn't possibly pass the NFL's standards. Javier was adamant about it though, and giggled to himself after switching one of the balls with his nuclear one. Said the NFL was bad at figuring out ball weights. Luis still couldn't believe this part of the plan worked. It wouldn't be the destruction of the entire American spy network, but having players on a nationally televised game get sick with nuclear poisoning would do enough to make the Americans question their precious safety.

Oh well, he thought. This is what the Americans get for calling their stupid sport football.


Let him play!

Teammates yell. "Chad stop!" Chad no stop. Chad life football. Ball glows. Chad feel sick. Chad must throw ball.

Tacklemen no come now. Field open. Chad no run for endzone. Chad pocket passer.

Center's skin fall off. Referee crying. Doctor try come enter field. Chad tackle doctor away. Doctor stop play. Chad no want stop play. Crowd boo. Crowd chant "Let Him Play! Let Him Play! Chad like crowd. Chad want play.

Catchman run at Chad. "Christ, Chad... Look, I'm open. Pass it to me." Chad shake head.

"Chad arm nuclear cannon. Chad throw far."

Catchman sigh. "Alright Chad, if I run down to the endzone, will you pass it to me and stop running all the medical personnel off the field? Jesus, Darius is dead man, doesn't that mean shit to you?"

Chad smile. "Chad throw far." Catchman angry. Catchman run down field. Chad feel sick. Football heavy. Chad nose bleeding. Chad taste blood. Chad need throw ball.



Rufus stood near the President's dead body. He cried for his fallen hero. No one else moved. He didn't know what to do.

"The satchel," he heard a voice in his head say. Hmmm... there was a satchel sitting next to the president and the other two dead men. What about it? He walked over to it, and studied it. A bunch of numbers and symbols. Latitude and Longitude, he thought.

"Hit enter," the voice now said. That seemed like a smart thing to do, he thought. That's probably the president's GPS alarm. If the president is in trouble, hit enter, and the army or something comes to save him based on these coordinates. He could be a hero! Really impress Jessica this time. "Hit enter," the voice in his head said again and again.


"Hit enter," Luis kept saying, hoping the doofus might actually do it.


Chad body go bye

"Well, it looks like McGinnis is running into the endzone for Brunswick to pass him the ball," Jimmy sighed into his microphone. "Hopefully then Chad will let some of the doctors on the field, not that it's going to help." All of Darius Fagellen's limbs had fallen off his torso minutes ago, along with his head.

It wasn't a trick play.

"Chad winds and throws, and.... GOOD LORD! The force of the throw has disintegrated Chad's entire body!" Jimmy felt sick, but he loved calling Chad's games. He knew how much Chad loved it when he complimented his throwing power. One more time, he thought.

"THAT FOOTBALL HAS GONE NUCLEAR!" It was one of his signature phrases, but Jimmy had never meant it as much as he did at that very moment. He had never seen a football thrown with such velocity. There were a lot of things he had never seen before that were happening today.


The idiot's finger was moving towards the computer like in slow motion. Please, please, please! Hit the button! Don't let them all have died for nothing! Closer, the finger moved closer.


Artist's representation

"What kind of black magic is this?! Ladies and gentlemen, the football is glowing white hot! This is insanity! The ball is headed right for McGinnis' hands- Chad didn't have a 100 rating for throwing accuracy in Madden for nothing- he's going to catch it."



"Man, I sure am pressing this button slowly," Rufus said to no one as he slowly added pressure to the key. "Press it faster you fucking moron," the voice screamed now.


"Here comes the ball to McGinnis!"


Fucking Rufus

Pressing the bu-




The novel Nuclear Football is also available in paperback.

The incredible pass thrown by Chad Brunswick to Ben McGinnis was watched live by twelve million people. The sheer force of the pass, combined with the uranium hidden within, created a nuclear explosion that destroyed the entire city of Baltimore, and many of its suburbs. The fallout left 100 miles in every direction completely uninhabitable.

The deaths of President Trump and his secret service members were blamed on the explosion. No one ever found out about the Mexican plot to destroy the US data collection servers and American spy network. Vice president Palin was sworn into office later that day. She became known for her softer stance on immigration, and gave back the American's many of the freedoms denied to them by Trump's presidency.

Rodger Goodell, commissioner of the NFL, decided after a 3 year inquiry that the Baltimore had purposely tried to tamper with the footballs during the game, and suspended the whole organization indefinitely.

Rufus Bojangles was not listed among those missing in the explosion.

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