Die Glocke

by M C Drake

  Advisor A told his chief medical officer to observe for the rest of the night, take down any notes he needed and then all of the infected slaves were to be killed; autopsies were ordered so that the formula could be perfected.

  The treatment towards the Nordic captives was mild compared to what lay in store for anyone classed as non-Nordic. These people were housed to the right-hand side of the facility. They were forced to line up outside of a medical center.

  The people were called in two at a time, where they were taken into a small cold room. There they were subject to a brutal medical; Many died during the procedure. The ones that survived were taken to another small holding cell. There they were stripped and hosed down.

  Over the next five days, many citizens of the former United States went under multiple sanitation procedures, they were disinfected four times; after the final procedure, they were housed in clean rooms.

  The Aryans only feed them through specialized tubes, the solution was not food but a concoction that was designed to keep the person alive with minimal resource. Once the Aryan scientists were satisfied that the person was healthy enough to survive the final procedure they were moved to a massive metallic hospital.

  The men, women, and children who were not deemed in good health did not go into the hospital instead their naked bodies were marched across the huge open square to a factory. They were given an anesthetic and while they slept they were put into an industrial furnace. They were used to power the small holding cells that contained their fellow captives.

  Inside the medical facility, the non-Nordic people were given a final injection, it put their bodies into an induced coma. This allowed the Aryan surgeons to systematically remove important organs from the body while they were still alive.

  The organs were removed from the body while still attached to the nervous system; the people the organs were removed from could still feel pain and their brainwaves zipped violently across the monitors. The surgeons seemed to ignore this as they focused on keeping the brain alive.

  The heart and lungs were also removed intact and alive. The nervous system was placed in a bright purple gel. The gel was pumped full of a mixture of frozen nitrogen and blood. The blood was pumped around the square cell and the organs inside continued to produce heat; the cells were going to be used as a simple power source; a highly effective battery.

  Thousands upon thousands of these operations were completed over the next few days, the power cells were stockpiled next to Die Glocke in the very heart of the base. The golden acorn shimmered as it absorbed more and more power.

  The device flashed a superb purple and a whole pile of the living batteries was absorbed, a violet mist coated the surrounding area.

  Nobody who was healthy was spared this fate, whole families were torn apart, literally as they were cut away from their living bodies and placed in a five-foot square. Advisor A was pleased with the progress, they could begin the next phase in twelve days if they continued at this pace.

  A few cities decided to fight on, Chicago, Boston, and Los Angeles made themselves into fortress cities. The civilians there had chosen not to evacuate and fought alongside their army counterparts, as they had done in Washington.

  The Aryan forces kept another of Sporreberg's promises, they met any resistance with extreme force. Unlike Washington, the Aryan's used nearly every weapon in their disposal. The skies filled with purple stars as their artillery completely leveled the areas.

  Following this, the area was carpet bombed with plasma from squadrons of large bombers. The bombers were huge grey birds with six glowing engines on their long wings. The bombers dropped massive payloads on the cites.

  The glow of burning plasma blocked out the setting sun. Nobody in the cities could have hope to survive this onslaught. Anyone who was found fleeing from the surrounding area was gunned down mercilessly.

  USS America

  The huge aircraft carrier rocked heavily in the massive waves, a hurricane had been buffeting the convoy for two days now. People on board the ship had to stay hunkered down inside but many were too exhausted to do anything other than sleep anyway.

  In the medical wing William Morris stayed by the bedside of his friend, Moose was fast asleep on the side of the bed when he was rudely awoken by the nurse coming to change the sheets and empty Brooklyn's catheter bag.

  “You really should get some food mate; you have been here since the start of the voyage.”

  Moose smiled meekly but he shook his head, I made a promise that I wouldn’t leave his side until he recovers!” Moose smiled, “I want to be here to take the piss out of the bitch.”

  The nurse shook her head, “I’ll get some food sent up to you but I suggest you go take a quick wash while I give your friend here a sponging down.”

  Moose smiled gain, “Are you trying to say I stink?” He smelt his pits.

  The nurse nodded, “I could smell ya from outside, now go on.”

  Moose did as he was told.

  When the young radar operator returned there was a steaming hot pie sat on the bedside table.

  Moose smiled, ‘What a babe’ he thought to himself. He also appreciated the cold bottle of water that rested on the floor beside his chair; it had been tied to the chair leg so it did not get lost when the ship listed in the storm.

  As moose lifted the napkin he noticed a scribble on the other side, he turned it over and smiled as it gave the nurse's room number. If Brooklyn were only awake, he would never live it down that I pulled his nurse.

  The waves continued to pound the ship as it made its way across the Atlantic at full speed. Moose looked lazily out of the tiny window. The light barely got through and the artificial light gave him a headache.

  The voyage had been pretty uneventful as battle reports from the American mainland faded from the airwaves. The crew had hoped it was because they were out of signal range but they knew deep down that it was more likely that the resisting troops had been wiped out.

  Moose woke with a start in the pitch black as fingers gripped his hair and gave it a sharp yank.

  "Ouch, what the hell is going on?" He yelled, his first thought was that the cheeky nurse had returned.

  “Moose? Is that you?” A croaky voice came from the bed; it was weak and sounded disorientated.

  “Brooklyn, is that you mate?”

  “Moose it’s me, where the hell am I?”

  Moose dived onto the bed and embraced his mate.

  “What the hell are you doing mate, get off of me!”

  Moose laughed, he jumped up and turned the lights on.

  Brooklyn shielded his eyes, “Could have warned me you bastard."

  Brooklyn slowly acclimatized to the light but he still did not know where he was and what he was doing laying in a bed. As he looked around the room he noticed that he was in a medical bay. A colostomy bag hung from a post next to the bed and there was an intravenous drip next to him.

  “What happened to me?”

  “Not now Jnr, I’ll be back in a minute. I promise.” With that moose sprinted from the room as he went to alert the nurse.

  Brooklyn tried to sit up but he was strapped to the metal bedposts. He suddenly felt very sick and as he yanked his head to the left he threw up all over his pillow.

  The nurse, quickly followed by a naval doctor ran in and relaxed his restraints; they placed a bowl in front of him and the young Navy pilot cucked up again.

  The nurse called for moose to get him a glass of water.

  While Moose left the room the doctor started to complete his checks. He shined a light into Brooklyn's eyes and watched his pupils dilate.

  “Good.” He remarked and ticked something off of his list. The doctor continued to ask Brooklyn if he could feel his touch along his arm.

  Brooklyn nodded.

  The doctor did the same with the young pilot’s legs.

  "Yes," Brooklyn said but was then sick again as the ship rocked once more.

  Brooklyn was told to take sma
ll sips of his drink; this would help with the sickness and the dehydration.

  Brooklyn did as he was asked and the doctor finished off a few more tests.

  “Where am I?” Brooklyn asked again.

  The doctor took Moose to one side, I have told him he needs to rest. You can fill him in later.”

  Moose shook his head, “With all due respect doc, Brooklyn will keep asking until he gets the truth, he is stubborn like that. It would be best to tell him and then he can get some rest.”

  The doctor did not look convinced but he gave in. "Ok, but call us if anything changes, anything at all. Otherwise, I will be back to do some more tests in an hour.”

  Moose took a seat next to Brooklyn and told him to brace himself as he was not going to like the news.

  Brooklyn listened in horror as Moose recalled the events of the last six days. From when Brooklyn’s plane was shot down and they just managed to eject. Brooklyn was knocked unconscious and Moose had pulled him free of the trees that they had been tangled in.

  Then how Washington was completely encircled by Aryan ground forces. The American armed forces had put up a brave resistance but in the end, the enemy forces were just too strong and General Westmoreland had signed an unconditional surrender.

  They were now on the USS America on route to England with the rest of the surviving forces who had managed to escape, thanks to the Navy.

  Brooklyn sat in disbelief he did not speak for a few minutes and his lip trembled as he tried to find the words he was looking for.

  “Shit.” Was the first thing he could get out, he then promptly threw up in the glass bowl.

  Moose shook his head, “I’ll clean this up buddy but you need to get some rest.”

  Brooklyn passed the bowl over and then lay back down, he nestled his head into the pillow as his eyelids felt heavy. He could feel tears forming.

  Moose returned the washed out bowl next to the bed.

  Brooklyn looked up, “Have you heard from my mom and Pamela?”

  Moose rested his hand on his friend’s back, “Your mom is on Hawaii, she is safe for now.” Moose paused, “Nobody has heard anything from Pam mate. But that doesn’t mean she wasn’t evacuated.”

  Moose ordered him to get some rest.

  Brooklyn fell into an uneasy sleep as tears rolled down his cheeks.

  Brooklyn woke with a start; Moose was still sat by his side reading a magazine on aircraft.

  “What time is it?”

  “Three pm, you have been out for five hours. The doc had popped in a few times. I will fetch him now as he wants to complete more tests.”

  Brooklyn was subjected to a multitude of procedures designed to test his memory, if he had sustained any brain damage and how his motor skills were. He passed with flying colors and when the doctor was satisfied he was given a small hot meal.

  Brooklyn was told to go steady for the next few days until they got to England.

  Over the next few days the young Naval pilot grew in strength, he went to the onboard gym with Moose for a light workout under the supervision of the nurse. Brooklyn’s pain grew into anger.

  “Moose, we are going to get these fucks back for this, you know it and I know it.”

  Moose nodded, he could see the intensity in his friend’s eyes. That was when he knew his friend was back for real. Tears again welled up in Brooklyn’s large brown eyes but this time they were tears of rage.

  Drakelow

  Drakelow depot sat beneath the Kingsford County Park just north of the town of Kidderminster. The underground facility had been built during World War Two but now it had been revamped to house the local seats of government during a nuclear attack; many similar facilities had been built due to the uncertainty caused by the cold war.

  The tunnels of the large bunker were filled with noise. Countless people were busy at work.

  A large meeting room had been set up and visitors were starting to arrive on mass now. Guards from different countries greeted each other and were then escorted to their accommodation.

  The foreign dignitaries were given the most protected rooms and were left to settle down.

  In the center of the meeting room was a large round table with seats placed all around it.

  Only two seats were occupied at the moment, Harold Wilson the British Prime Minister sat in a deep conversation with his Chief of Staff, Field Marshal Sir Geoffrey Baker.

  Sir Geoffrey’s arms would periodically fly all over the place as he tried to get his point across to the Prime Minister, Sir Geoffrey was known to be a passionate man who would not back down easily.

  Wilson sighed, “Ok, that is enough for now, get all of the intelligence that we have so that we can present a good case to our allies. We need to share everything we have. If we are honest with them, then we can only hope they will afford us the same courtesy.”

  Sir Geoffrey shrugged, “One can hope, Sir, but I doubt it.”

  It was another twenty-four hours before all the guests had arrived. The most influential men in the world took their seats at the table.

  The full list read:

  Harold Wilson, Prime Minister

  Field Marshal Sir Geoffrey Baker

  Royal Air Force Air Chief Marshal, Sir Brian Burnett

  Admiral, Sir John Frewen

  Chairman of the people’s republic of China, Dong Biwu

  Chief of the people’s liberation Army general staff department, Su Yu

  Viktor Kulikov, Acting general secretary of the Communist party of the Soviet Union

  Marshal of the Soviet Union Pavel Batitsky

  Willy Brandt, Chancellor of the Federal Republic of Germany

  And finally; Admiral, Thomas H Moorer.

  Moorer was now the acting President of the United States after the deaths of Richard Nixon and Spiro Agnew.

  Thomas Moorer had only arrived in Portsmouth a few hours earlier and after he had made sure his men had received everything that they needed, he had rushed up to Kidderminster.

  Under tons of earth, reinforced steel, and concrete the various heads of state continued to argue deep into the night. The main sticking point had been Su Yu's insistence that a coordinated nuclear strike was the only way to defeat the Aryan forces.

  Understandably Admiral Moorer was against this option.

  “We can’t nuke our own country, people still live there. We might as well hand them the country on a silver platter.”

  Zu Yu huffed in disgust as he listened to his interpreter. The chairman of China interrupted, “I agree with Zu Yu, a nuclear attack is the safest option. I think we should vote on it.”

  Wilson begrudgingly agreed on the vote. Two men in the room raised their hands while the rest sat steadfast.

  Ding Biwu stared in contempt at Kulikov, “You call yourself a man of the Soviet Union yet you are unable to act in the best interest of Communism.”

  Kulikov responded in English so that the whole room could understand him, “We tried to attack the Aryan forces with a nuclear strike, as we prepared our leadership was killed by a powerful chemical weapon. Now nothing lives in Moscow. So I am acting in the best interests of everyone here. God forbid if one of those missiles strikes your country.”

  Dong Biwu sank back into his chair, he turned to his interpreter and whispered something to him.

  "What do you suggest that we do? Send our troops into certain death?"

  The room stayed silent for a minute before most of the senior army men tried to talk all at once. People argued across the table with each other for another ten minutes before Wilson intervened.

  "Ok, this is getting us nowhere. Let's go over what we know and then formulate our best course of action." He started to look over the battle of Washington, before he added, "they must have some kind of weakness. One thing is for certain, we must not use nuclear missiles, the effect on the planet could be catastrophic."

  The men around the table leaned back into their chairs, some lit pipes. They were quiet as they went over all the in
formation they had gathered on the enemy.

  Admiral Moorer took the chair; it showed the humility of the man as he still preferred to be called Admiral rather than President.

  “What we know is that they have an ultra-modern army, they have air support that can reach speeds that our jets could only hope. In fact, we know that they outclass us in every department, apart from one."

  Wilson interrupted, “They don’t have a Navy.”

  "Preciously!" Moorer replied, “I suggest we look at an amphibious assault, hit them in places that our ships can help swing the balance of power, and then when we have established beachheads, take the fight to them."

  Brandt shook his head, “Nein.” He looked up from the pictures of the enemy tanks, “That would cost too much blood with no guarantee of success.”

  “What would you suggest?” Moorer asked in a condescending tone.

  "Small-scale guerrilla attacks that are designed to sabotage their supply lines and communications."

  The heads of state continued to discuss battle plans into the early hours.

  Falling Star

  The dark cloudless sky over London was suddenly shattered by a huge flash of bright purple, the buildings started to sway under the strain of a huge blast. The sky tore and a small golden object plummeted towards the ground.

  The blast had knocked out the lights around the great city, cars stopped in their tracks and all along the M25 people got out of their vehicles in a confused and slightly panicked state.

  Onlookers watched as a shooting star fell towards London, the flames from the atmosphere heated the objected and it glowed majestically as the brightest thing in the night’s sky.

  In the very heart of London, residents took to the streets as they wanted to find the source of the power cut. A police officer pointed to the object that fell at great speed. Seconds later a small explosion rocked the area around Mayfair as the objected impacted.