The Gemini Effect

by Chuck Grossart

  Orders to shoot down Air Force One if it didn’t comply.

  He wondered what could possibly happen next.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t have to wait long to get his answer.

  “Admiral, this just came into the NMCC.”

  “What is it?”

  “The Brits closed their airspace to all inbound commercial flights from CONUS, and they’re directing all CONUS-bound flights to turn back. They’re threatening to shoot down any airliner that attempts to land.”

  “They’re what? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

  “No, sir. One of their Typhoons fired on a United 767 attempting to land at Heathrow. He’s over the Atlantic right now trying to find an alternate field before he runs out of fuel. None of the other European countries are clearing him to land, either.”

  “What the hell do they think they’re doing? I want to know how many airliners we have over the Atlantic right now, and how many are going to have fuel problems if they aren’t allowed to land.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The alarm sounding in the background immediately shifted his attention to the worldwide status board. It was an alarm usually heard only during exercises. Combat exercises. “Status!” he shouted.

  “Admiral, we have a Mayday from a FedEx 747!”

  A green triangle popped up on the status board showing the aircraft’s location over the Sea of Japan, just east of Vladivostok, heading south.

  “He states he’s being fired on by Russian fighters, sir.”

  “He’s nowhere near their sovereign airspace!”

  Three red triangles appeared on the status board, tracking with the 747. Right on top of him.

  The green triangle suddenly disappeared.

  The 747 was gone.

  For a second, the command center was quiet.

  But only for a second.

  “Get me the vice president. Now!”

  CHAPTER 72

  General Rammes and Colonel Hoffman returned from topside. Carolyn saw a troubled look on the general’s face, and Garrett looked as if he’d just witnessed his troops being slaughtered at the airport all over again.

  She knew they didn’t have good news.

  “Carolyn, how long until—”

  “About twenty minutes, General. Sundown topside should be in twenty minutes.” She walked over to the Plexiglas wall and said, “At the current rate these things are falling apart, they should be completely dissolved at roughly the same time. Have we heard anything about the ground casings? The birds?”

  Garrett spoke first. “Things are bad topside, Carolyn.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “The president ordered nuclear strikes to destroy the bird casings in Minneapolis, Little Rock, and Oklahoma City.” He paused. “They’re gone, Carolyn. All three cities are gone.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “The president ordered the strikes under duress. The vice president believes the national security advisor and the chairman of the Joint Chiefs are controlling the president’s actions. The vice president tried to stop the strikes, but there wasn’t enough time.”

  Carolyn looked at both men in disbelief. The president of the United States, under duress? Nuking his own country?

  Insane.

  It was all insane!

  Rammes continued. “All of our communications have been cut off. I was able to speak to a duty officer at the NMCC for a few minutes, but the call went dead. I don’t know if it’s an after-effect from the nuclear detonations—the electromagnetic pulse frying our comm systems—or if our lines have been intentionally cut. The NMCC is completely swamped right now trying to figure out who is siding with whom. From what I can tell, we’re smack in the middle of a constitutional crisis, with part of the country answering to Andrew Smith, and another part answering to Allison Perez.”

  “Who’s in charge?” Carolyn asked.

  “As far as I’m concerned, it’s the vice president. This facility will answer to her, and to her alone, until the situation with the president is resolved.” He then answered her next question without being asked. “There’s no question topside about who’s in charge. This base is still taking orders from me. There’s no picking sides going on up there. I guarantee it.”

  “Do we know anything about the other casings?”

  He checked the clock and realized that the sun had already set where the ground wave casings were entrenched. “I’m sorry, Carolyn. I didn’t get any of that info.”

  “I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” She looked at the casings, which had deteriorated enough in the last few minutes to make them appear almost transparent. Through the thin casing walls, the bodies of the two creatures could be seen, curled in what appeared to be fetal positions.

  Waiting to be born again.

  The thought caused a chill to crawl down her back.

  She knew they might be witnessing the birth of entirely new species—one humanoid, the other, some sort of rodent.

  And the worst part was, she had absolutely no idea what to expect.

  “Carolyn, if they’re normal again, could this be over? Could the mutations have run their course?” Garrett asked.

  “It’s not over, Garrett. I don’t know how or why any of this happened the way it did today. These two creatures should’ve mutated into two distinct beings inside those casings. For the life of me, I can’t explain it.”

  “Any explanation for the masses in their brains?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “Well, whatever they are, I think we’re going to find out. Right now,” Rammes said, pointing at the Plexiglas wall.

  THE FOURTH NIGHT

  CHAPTER 73

  The first F-15 flashed by Air Force One’s cockpit with an earsplitting roar, its dual afterburners throwing twin tails of blue flame nearly one hundred feet to the rear of the sleek fighter jet.

  Air Force One had been intercepted right before it touched down at Louisville International Airport.

  “Come on, almost there!” the pilot yelled, lowering the landing gear and flaps while holding the massive airplane in a fifty-degree bank, turning hard to line up with the runway. The airplane was so low, the left wingtip looked as if it were about to plow a furrow in the ground. His engines were screaming, each one capable of producing nearly fifty-eight thousand pounds of thrust, pushing the gigantic, four-hundred-ton aircraft through the air. “Come on, baby, don’t stall on me . . .”

  This was definitely not standard Air Force traffic pattern discipline, but when you were trying to save the life of the president, all safety regulations went right out the window.

  “Air Force One, this is Lobo One. You are instructed to proceed immediately to Andrews AFB, Maryland. Do not, I repeat, do not land at this location. Comply immediately.”

  The pilot heard the F-15 pilot’s warning in his headset—in a matter of seconds, he’d either have the massive jet safely on the runway, or he’d have a Sidewinder missile or two blowing his engines apart.

  “Lobo, we have the president of the United States on board! Do not engage! Do not engage!” He rolled wings-level, now just a few hundred feet from the end of the runway. He watched as the second F-15 roared by, going vertical as soon as it cleared the 747’s nose. He knew both F-15s would quickly move to an attack position to his rear.

  “Air Force One, do not land at this location! Go around and return to Andrews! This is your last warning!”

  “Come on, baby, get us on the ground!” As the massive 747 roared over the runway’s threshold, the pilot saw a streak of light off to his left—something he’d seen before.

  In combat.

  It was a MANPAD—man-portable air defense weapon. A short-range, shoulder-fired surface-to-air missile.

  But it wasn’t targeting him.

  The Kentucky Guard troops
were firing at the fighters!

  As the 747 touched down on the runway, the pilot watched the missile streak skyward and saw a stream of flares erupt from one of the F-15s as it tried to trick the infrared homing missile into following one of the incredibly bright flares instead of the heat signature of his engines.

  But it was too late.

  The missile detonated in the tailpipe of one of the F-15’s engines, erupting into a huge fireball in the sky as the fighter exploded.

  The 747 pilot extended the spoilers, activated the thrust reversers, and stood on the brakes to bring the huge plane to a stop as quickly as he could. The straps dug into his shoulders as he was pushed forward by the force of the rapid deceleration . . . Would it be enough? He had to stop the plane quickly to allow time for the president to get off the aircraft and make it to safety before the second F-15 had a chance to attack.

  And it would attack.

  The warnings had been clear. And, since his wingman had just been blown out of the sky, Colonel Jepperson knew the Eagle Driver would be out for blood.

  He keyed his mic. “General Metzger, as soon as the aircraft comes to a stop, you’ll need to exit immediately. The crew will configure the escape ramp. You’ll need to take the president away from the aircraft as quickly as possible!”

  “Copy, Colonel!” came the reply in his headset.

  “Come on . . . Stop . . . Stop . . . Stop!” The brakes were smoking—just seconds from bursting into flame—as the 747 screeched to a halt. “Egress egress egress! Everybody out! Go go go!”

  Jessie was the first down the inflatable ramp, followed immediately by General Metzger, who had his arms wrapped around the president’s chest as they both slid down the ramp.

  National Guard troops grabbed all three of them and dragged them to the nearest building as 20mm cannon shells from the remaining F-15 stitched Air Force One from tail to nose.

  A few seconds later, all that remained of Air Force One were smoldering pieces of twisted wreckage blown hundreds of feet into the air as a massive explosion lit the nighttime sky.

  CHAPTER 74

  The rat had chewed its way through the thin casing wall and was sticking its head through the hole it had made. Its nose twitched as it sniffed the air.

  It looked completely normal.

  Just a rat.

  Cautiously, it crawled out of the casing, its body slick with fluid. Its small, beady eyes took in its surroundings, and it nervously eyed the three people in biosuits staring at it through the thick Plexiglas wall.

  Carolyn was amazed it was the same creature they’d seen earlier—the snarling beast that had nearly broken out of a locked ammo box, the same beast that had bitten Sergeant Wilson and transformed him into . . . well, a bad dream. It looked so small now. So normal.

  The other casing began to deform as the humanoid within it pressed against the thin walls, stretching them past the breaking point.

  An arm suddenly protruded from the torn casing, stretching, flexing its fingers.

  The rat raised itself on its haunches and watched as its companion slowly emerged from its cocoon.

  The being that had once been Sergeant Wilson gripped the edges of the tear it had made in the casing and pulled apart an opening large enough for it to crawl through.

  The naked form of a man slowly stood, stretching his arms above his head as a normal person would do after getting out of bed. His body was slick with the greasy fluid now spilling from the inside of the casing and pooling on the floor of the containment room. Facing away from the Plexiglas wall, he held his hands in front of his face, looking at each one, admiring them as if for the first time.

  He turned.

  What stood before them was Sergeant Wilson—what had been Sergeant Wilson. All his features were as they had been before he’d been transformed into a terrible, mutated killing machine. And then it spoke.

  “General? General Rammes?”

  Rammes didn’t respond, dumbfounded by what he was hearing through the overhead speaker.

  It couldn’t be.

  The thing he’d witnessed in the contamination chamber less than twelve hours before was now . . . normal?

  “General? What happened? Why am I in . . .” Sergeant Wilson said, suddenly confused.

  “Soldier, what’s your name?” Rammes asked.

  “Sir?”

  “What’s your name, soldier!”

  “My name is Randy Wilson, Staff Sergeant, United States Army. Sir, you know who I am! Why am I in here?”

  Rammes turned to Carolyn. “Is it him?”

  “I . . . I don’t know.” She honestly wasn’t sure what to say, or what to think. She, like General Rammes, couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Could it be over, as Garrett had suggested? Could the mutations have run their course?

  “Ms. Ridenour? Colonel Hoffman? Can you please tell me what’s going on here? Why am I in this room?”

  “Sergeant, do you remember anything that happened?” Garrett asked.

  “What happened? I was . . . I was trying to . . . The rat. I was trying to see if the rat—” He stopped when he saw the rat sitting on its haunches, looking at him. “Jesus . . . I remember. But it wasn’t a rat. It was bigger and—”

  “Sergeant, something happened to you when you were in the chamber with the rat,” Carolyn said. “It attacked you.”

  “Yes . . . I remember . . .”

  “Do you remember anything that happened after it attacked you?”

  “Yes. I remember.”

  Carolyn continued. “You were changed, Sergeant.”

  “My God. I remember. But how am I . . .” He glanced at the rat. “It’s back to normal! It’s okay! I’m okay, too, right?”

  “We don’t know yet, Sergeant.” She turned to the general and switched off her mic so her voice couldn’t be heard in the containment chamber. “General, we need to keep him in there. We’re not sure what changes have occurred in him, and there’s still no explanation for the extra mass in his brain. Or in the rat’s brain, for that matter.”

  “Don’t worry, Carolyn. I wasn’t about to let him out of there just yet,” Rammes said.

  “But I want to get out, General.”

  Carolyn quickly checked her mic switch. It was in the correct position. So was the general’s.

  “Don’t worry about the switches. You have them set correctly,” Sergeant Wilson said. He smiled. “I can still hear you.”

  CHAPTER 75

  Admiral Grierson stared at his myriad of status boards, trying to comprehend all he was seeing.

  It was unreal.

  Even during the most taxing exercises he’d been involved with, he’d never seen anything like this.

  Three American cities were now radioactive funeral pyres.

  American airliners, their fuel tanks dry, unable to land, were dropping into the Atlantic. Shot out of the sky if they tried—by our allies! The Brits!

  The Russians had raised their strategic forces to their highest level of alert and were taking potshots at every American aircraft that came anywhere near their coasts.

  And now . . .

  Israel, in flames.

  South Korea and Japan, under attack. The North Koreans had finally made their move.

  Taiwan, being obliterated by a massive attack, hundreds of missiles dropping like rain all around the island country. The Chinese had also finally made their move.

  It was happening way too fast, as if Satan himself had fired a starter pistol, triggering the mad dash to Armageddon.

  And the country was being led by two people: the president, holed up in an underground command center in Kentucky, and the vice president, flying somewhere in Canadian airspace.

  He would answer to Allison Perez.

  But others never would. Their allegiance was to President Andrew Smith. Even
in his command center, he could feel the lines of division subtly forming.

  The looks on faces.

  The tone of voices.

  Speed in carrying out orders.

  It was happening—his people were picking sides—and Grierson knew he wouldn’t be able to stop it.

  “Sir?”

  “What!”

  “It’s General Metzger, sir . . . on button one.”

  He stared at the phone for a second, then picked it up.

  “Grierson.”

  “Admiral Grierson. I’m going to say this once and only once. There is a coup in progress, led by the vice president. You are to disregard any further orders from Ms. Perez. You will answer only to your lawfully elected commander in chief.”

  “No, sir. I will not.”

  “You fucking, treasonous bastard. Consider yourself relieved.”

  “When the vice president relieves me, I’ll gladly leave my post. You, sir, are the treasonous bastard. Release the president, or I’ll track you down myself and—”

  “I’m in a hardened bunker, Keaton, with the president of the United States. He’s giving the orders, and I’ll carry them out. When this is over, you’ll face a firing squad.”

  “We’ll see who ends up wearing the blindfold, Thad, you motherfucker. Grierson out.”

  CHAPTER 76

  “But how can you—”

  Sergeant Wilson answered Carolyn’s question by tapping the side of his head with his finger. “I can hear you just fine. All of you. And I think you’re making a mistake by keeping me in here.”

  The tone of voice was entirely different. He wasn’t confused anymore. He was calm. And cool.

  Suddenly, Carolyn was afraid. Very afraid. This wasn’t Sergeant Randy Wilson. It looked and talked like him, but it was something else. Something not human.

  “Don’t be afraid, Ms. Ridenour. There’s nothing to be afraid of . . . as long as you let me out of here.”

  “You’re not going anywhere, Sergeant,” Rammes said.

  “Oh, is that right, General? Do you really think you can keep me in here?” The being looked around the containment chamber and laughed.