When the Sun flared, the night-shielded New World almost escaped destruction. But as their sky began burning, who could blame the Russians for thinking that the Americans had attacked...?
Cities became ovens. Grasslands became seas of flame. As the touch of dawn swept westward across the spinning planet Earth, its fiery finger killed everything in its path. Glaciers in Switzerlan began to melt, floodwaters poured down on the burning, smoking villages dotting the Alpine meadows. Paris became a torch, then London. North of the Arctic Cirlce, Lapplanders in their summer furs burst into flame as their reindeer collaspsed and roasted on the smoking tundra.
The line of dawn raced westward across the Atlantic Ocean, but as it did the brightness diminished. The sun dimmed as quickly as it had brightened.
The Americas escaped the Sun's wrath. Almost.
"A hard, dark book; the story of mankind after the fall... compulsive reading... the battle to rebuild Earth after its almost total destruction by a gigantic solar flare." Harry Harrison