“Tell me.”
“As you very well know, we were sent in to sabotage the camp. There were at least thirty terrorists hiding there, and I was sent in to command a crack team of twenty. It was to be a quick mission. Get in, blow up the ammunitions depot, dispose of as many terrorists as we could, and then get the hell out of there, ASAP.”
“Someone tipped them off?”
“Not someone, a secret sect within our government. I found this out from a loyal friend, who subsequently, conveniently disappeared after his revelation to me. They called themselves the New Liberation Movement or the NLM. They’ve secretly been infiltrating Congress with their members, slowly building sympathy for their cause internally. Their goal over the past twenty years has been to build up enough support toward the Islamic movement in order to pave the way for sharia law in this country. We’re talking double agents, but legitimately elected. The plan was that once they had infiltrated Congress with sufficient senators and congressmen, they would be able to put enough pressure on Congress to call on a vote for the introduction of sharia law.”
“Impossible. Not in America,” snapped Alastair.
“They said it wouldn’t happen in France either, and there’s been sharia law there now since 2042. Look at the UK. The Islamic Forum of Europe infiltrated the Labor Party as far back as 2010, and with the numbers so high now, if Labor get elected next year, the UK will effectively be run by Muslims.”
“But that’s not the USA.”
“It wouldn’t happen overnight. At first, minor things would be passed into law, so as not to raise too much suspicion from the public. Already a few of those laws have slipped through, like federal funding going to more Muslim schools, the teaching of Islam now compulsory in more than thirty states, and revoking of the burka ban.”
“God, I wasn’t aware of that.”
“You wouldn’t be, it’s been done slowly and cautiously. But once a critical number is reached, major changes will start occurring. Effectively, these men are terrorists, but instead of pretending to be airline pilots, flying planes into buildings, these ones are masquerading as politicians, about to commit the ultimate act of terrorism, an assault on the United States Constitution itself.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
“I can’t believe that, Denny! Surely it would never fly? How many members did they … do they have?”
“At last count, I’d say close to forty percent of Congress, and with every election they’ve been steadily growing. They tipped off the Taliban about us and then …”
“What?” asked Alastair, the twirling of the pen growing faster.
“Then, Professor, their counterparts in Afghanistan did horrific things to us.”
“Like torture?”
“Like … medical experiments. I was trained to endure torture such as sleep deprivation, water cannoning, even flogging, but no training in the world could ever prepare us for what they did.”
Alastair fell silent. Perhaps this really was a mistake after all. Ignorance could be bliss, so the cliché goes.
“Professor, do you want to know why I was so quick to escape that place? You dared to ask, well now I’m going to tell you. And just so you know, this is the first time I’ve told anyone about this.”
“Why?”
“Maybe because I thought no one would believe me, maybe because if I never talked about it, a part of me could try to believe that it never actually happened. Or maybe …”
“What?”
“Maybe it’s just time to finally let go of it.” The general’s tone was more conciliatory, his voice cracking ever so slightly.
“Go ahead, Denny.”
“A day after we were captured, we were all stripped naked. As I said, there were twenty of us to start with. The first five days we were tied to a pole in the blazing sun and left to burn. We were given one cup of water a day, and we had to ration it as best we could. A lucky five of my team succumbed in that heat. I say lucky, because they escaped the horrors of what was to come.”
Alastair gazed down at his aching knee and massaged it. He was certain he had opened a door to something that perhaps should’ve stayed firmly closed.
“After five days, there were fifteen of us left and we were each introduced to the team of ‘doctors.’ I say ‘doctor’ because that was what they called themselves, although I would’ve classified them more as butchers, at best. Rumor had it that the Taliban were training these people to become real doctors, but they needed someone to practice their surgical skills on, so we became their living anatomy textbook for the next three months. Each of us were randomly assigned to be an organ system that they would work on. The more unfortunate soldiers were assigned complex systems such as the cardiovascular, neurological or respiratory system. Then, without anesthetic, these ten ‘medical students’ would get to work daily on their chosen subject and organ system. They began first by dissecting out the cardiovascular system, and poor Lieutenant Harvey James lasted about four days of hell before he succumbed, his chest wide open, his heart pumping away before one of the students incorrectly identified a vein. He had found an artery, allowing the lieutenant to exsanguinate over a period of about ten minutes. Next was Sergeant Jake Landry. He lasted a whole week with his skull open, while they prodded and poked him, trying to establish what the various parts of his brain were used for.”
Alastair felt the bile building at the back of his throat, then he gagged, expeling the meal he had earlier eaten onto the floor. His throat burned from the acid.
“Too much for you, Professor? I warned you to leave it alone.”
The general cleared his throat. “It was about six weeks before they were ready for me. I was one of the more fortunate ones, being assigned the genito-urinary system. I was strapped down, while these butchers slowly and attentively dissected my groin and scrotum. By this stage they had gained some cutting skills, and were more accurate with their dissection, so I only ended up losing my foreskin and my left testicle. I recall during one of my more lucid moments, when I hadn’t passed out from the pain, them telling me, just as they were removing the testicle, how I shouldn’t worry, because I still had another one if I wanted to father more children. How the fuck do you respond to that, Professor?”
The general’s voice had now cracked.
“They worked on me for about five days, before they got bored and decided it was time for them to move onto another system, and it must’ve been shortly after that that your son came to the rescue, otherwise I doubt I’d be here telling you this.”
“What do you remember with respect to my son?”
“I remember lying on my bunk, feverish and sweating, as I’d developed an infection where they’d been cutting, and heard a massive explosion in another bungalow. I remember a lot of shouting, screaming and swearing in Pashto, and then not long after, I heard the sound of chopper blades approaching.”
“Did you see my son?”
“I remember that the person guarding me had fled, and so I managed to crawl from my bungalow and made it across the courtyard, while I tried to gather what was left of my platoon.”
“My son, General, my son. Did you see him?” The pen was now spinning so fast in his hand that he dropped it. It fell onto the floor and rolled away.
“Yes, Professor, I did …”
“And?”
“Please, don’t make me tell you this,” pleaded Denny.
Alastair thought it possible that the general was choking back tears.
“I have to know, General.”
“In the chaos that was ensuing, I caught a glance of three of the so-called ‘doctors.’ They had escaped the bombings and assault by the small team that had arrived by chopper. They had also managed to capture Tom, and were using him as a hostage to get away. They had a gun aimed at his head.”
At the mention of his son’s name, Alastair felt a deep sadness course through him.
“One of the crack team threw me a rifle, while he gathered what was left of my
own team onto the chopper. The three doctors were climbing into a jeep with your son, and were about to get away. I had to think quickly.”
Alastair wiped the accumulating tears away from the corners of his eyes.
“I … I knew that they would kill him, Professor, if I shot at them that was, but if I didn’t, I knew what they would do to him later on. I … I couldn’t let that happen to him, so I took out two of them. One, however, got away. I’m so sorry, Professor, I’m so sorry.”
Alastair screamed into the phone, “Denny? Did they …?”
The general took in a deep breath. “Just before the third one escaped … he … I’m so sorry, Alastair. I had to think quickly. I couldn’t let them take him away with them. Not after I’d seen what those butchers were capable of. I had to take a gamble. It didn’t work out.”
Alastair put his head down on the desk and sobbed. He felt himself go numb. His little boy had been murdered by some sick bastard.
A minute or so passed before he sat up and wiped his eyes. Then he said the words he never thought he would say. “Denny, you did the right thing. You did right by my boy.”
“After that, Professor, I moved as fast as my injuries would allow, back over to the chopper. It’s true that I was quick to get that chopper off the ground, but there were three of my men who wouldn’t get on board. I think they’d been so destroyed by what had happened to them both physically and emotionally that they just wanted to be left there to die. I felt perhaps that might be kinder after what they’d been through, and so I instructed the pilot to close the door. We could hear Taliban reinforcements arriving. But the pilot insisted on waiting until all the men were pulled on board. Those three men were so screwed up by their experience that they tried to shoot me in a desperate attempt to get off the chopper. All three subsequently committed suicide within a week of their return home. I’m sorry Professor, I know this isn’t quite the story you hoped to hear.”
Alastair rubbed his eyes. “So you’re doing this to get even, but even with who? The so-called doctors who did this to you?”
“No, not them. Utilizing my position and friends in high places, I organized a covert operation to hunt down each and every one of those bastards eight years ago, and they’re all dead, Professor.”
“I don’t understand, then?”
“I’m doing this to flush out the NLM. I’ve been working on this for years, gathering support slowly from within Congress with people that I could trust, waiting for the day when I could make my move and oust these bastards from our government, once and for all. They’ve infiltrated their way right through the democratic party to such an extent that a coup was the only possible answer. If we did nothing, then by the next election in two years’ time, it would’ve been game over. I’d even heard rumors that the first thing to be changed would be the Constitution, eliminating all freedoms and protections for minorities. The Nazis did exactly that, on coming to power in 1933, and they were one of the most civilized, democratic countries in the world at the time.”
“What about the President and Vice President? Surely they can’t be involved?”
“I thought they weren’t either, until I received proof to the contrary about a year ago, and it was at that point that I decided we couldn’t afford to wait any longer. Someone got to both of them. I’m not sure who, and if it was a bribe or blackmail, but I know for a fact that they were no longer clean. It was only a matter of time before they made their move, and I wasn’t going to wait for that to happen.”
“So how did you get involved with Simon?”
“It’s a long story, but I needed a significant distraction, and when I heard about EMB and read somewhere how there was a risk of magnetic pole reversal and the calamity that could ensue, I decided to look into it. You couldn’t get a better distraction than that. My people were ready to move. I just needed to find someone who would make certain that it would happen.”
“Yes, but how did you contract Simon?”
“I looked into the scientists involved in the EMB project, and found out that Sheri’s ex was involved in some minor criminal activity and had a criminal record. I did some research and discovered that the guy was a complete genius with an IQ of around two hundred, so I found out what his price was, and the rest as they say is history. You’ve got to understand, Professor, I had no idea that what he did would come to this. All I wanted was a large distraction, plus I needed to take care of the President and the Vice President.”
“What about poor Ms. Fuller? What did she ever do that you needed her murdered?”
“With her sniffing around with that nose of hers, she threatened to expose the whole thing before we were able to seize power. With her contacts and determination, she could’ve ruined everything. If only she’d just butted out. I tried everything to get her to rethink what she was doing, but she’s one headstrong girl.”
“She’s a hero as far as I’m concerned, General. At least we knew about EMB and what we were up against, and perhaps some idea of how we might try to tackle the problem. Without her, I doubt you would ever have told us a thing!” Alastair’s tone was harsh again.
Denny didn’t reply straightaway. “I … I thought it was too late. I didn’t think we stood a chance if you shut down EMB, and you were determined to do that.”
Alastair wasn’t impressed. It was a feeble excuse, and the general knew it. “You could’ve still come clean, General.”
“Maybe,” he reluctantly admitted.
“Maybe? Is that all I’m getting from you? Tell that to the eight billion people on the planet, General!” he said, before disconnecting the vidlink.
* * * *
An hour later, Steve, who had been busy working on a console at the other end of the control room, called out, “Guys, you may want to come and see this live satellite feed I’ve been following. You’re not going to believe this.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
Janine, Jack, Sheri and the professor huddled around the console. An image of the Earth appeared. Janine felt her heart quicken. This nightmare seemed to be dragging on relentlessly. Her teeth felt furry and rough, and she was certain that her breath must have been stale. She reached into her pockets and found what she was looking for, unwrapped the mint and popped it into her mouth.
The Earth was barely recognizable. The continent’s coastlines had changed dramatically, a third of the planet was white with ice and snow, but there was something else.
“Oh my god!” said Sheri.
“Can you see it?” asked Steve.
“See what?” said the professor.
“The Earth’s axis is shifting,” said Sheri.
“What does that mean?” asked Janine, her hand now tightly gripping Jack’s.
“The twenty-three-and-a-half-degree axis is what gives us our seasons,” said Steve. “At zero degrees, there are no seasons. At that point, every part of the Earth receives exactly twelve hours of daylight, every day of the year. The axis has now shifted to twenty-one degrees, that’s two and a half degrees further north.”
“Why do you think this has happened?” asked Janine. Her thoughts turned to Kath and the kids. She could only imagine what they must be going through back in San Antonia.
“There’s only one explanation really: the moon’s increased gravitational pull on the Earth is destabilizing the axis,” said Steve.
“But why?” asked Janine.
“Simple physics,” said Steve. “The increased effect of gravity causes it, as the Earth’s mass is now distributed closer and closer to its rotational axis. This causes the rotation velocity to increase.”
“I’m afraid we have an even more immediate problem, guys,” said Sheri.
“There’s more?” asked Janine.
“Look closer at the United States. What time do you have for New York?” asked Sheri.
Steve checked his watch. “According to this, it’s about five am.”
“Take a look at the North American continent from the satellite im
agery,” said Sheri.
The whole of the United States was in brilliant daylight.
“Oh my god, that’s impossible,” said Janine. “It’s fall there. It should still be dark, especially the west coast.”
Sheri shook her head. “Nothing’s impossible anymore. Nothing.”
Jack broke his silence. “Looks like we’ll be readjusting more than just our seasons. Our clocks will need to be sped up,” he said.
“But by how much? We don’t know by how much the Earth is speeding up,” said the professor.
“Anyone got a sundial?” asked Sheri.
* * * *
September 19, 15:35 (apparent local time)
Cape Town, South Africa
Simon Kelly sat on a towel on Muizenberg Beach sipping a pina colada. The afternoon was surprisingly warm, and despite the fact that the beach had moved slightly inland, it was one of the few beaches in the world that had not been catastrophically affected by the change in tides. If it wasn’t for the lack of tourists, icebergs on the horizon, and dead fish littering the beach, one might almost believe that nothing had even happened.
Before leaving the States, Simon had done a quick internet search and discovered there were three beaches in the world that had mostly escaped the new gravitational effects. One was Eilat, on the Red Sea, one was Melbourne within Port Phillip Bay, and the third was Muizenberg, protected by False Bay.
Simon wasn’t keen on Melbourne. The climate there had changed dramatically over the past few days, with fresh snowfalls becoming the norm. Eilat was a definite possibility, but the political situation and civil unrest there had become dangerously fragile. Cape Town seemed the best of the three options, offering relatively good weather and political stability. He decided that if he were to die, it should … well, be in a nice place.
After the bleak conversation he’d had with General Smith, Simon had managed to catch the last flight out of the country, just prior to all airports around the planet shutting down. Despite the modifications they’d made to the planes, safety could no longer be guaranteed, aircraft crashes becoming commonplace. Before leaving for the airport, he’d managed to hack into the FBI files and delete his name off the immi fugitive list of people banned from leaving the country.
The Waterhole Page 33