SecondWorld (2 page)

Still, he had no sympathy for them. Not only were they Jews, and thus subhuman, but he had also carried out similar experiments numerous times before. After the first successful test of the device, the one that had caused the recession of his hairline, he had vomited violently. He had never seen a man killed before, and he couldn’t think of a worse way to die. In the past year, hundreds of men, women, and children had lost their lives in a similar fashion. The fifty down below meant little to a conscience that no longer existed.

“All is ready,” Gerlach said. “You may proceed.”

Gerlach typically started each test himself, but Mazuw wanted his full attention on today’s events. He watched the general approach the science team stationed at the portable control panel, which was really just a glorified on/off switch. The team responded to his commands, turning dials and watching gauges as power began to flow to the Hive. He glanced at Debus, who’d gone back to fidgeting his fingers. The man was clearly unnerved by what he was about to see. He’d been integral to this phase of the Hive’s completion. While his official specialty was rocket science, and he’d made amazing contributions to the V2 rocket campaign, his true genius lay in the field of magnetic field separation. The resulting power supply made today’s expanded test possible. With refinement, it might very well change the world.

But Debus had never witnessed the destructive power he’d helped create. And the impending test had him understandably nervous. Debus stroked the deep scar that ran from his cheek to just under his lower lip, possibly recalling the act of violence that had created it.

“You may close your eyes if you’d like,” Gerlach said. While he had no sympathy for those about to lose their lives on the testing grounds, he felt protective of his team and colleagues. Debus was a good man. A good Nazi. But not everyone had the stomach for such things. “The general doesn’t need to know.”

Debus shook his head. “I helped create it. I must see.”

A loud buzz rolled up the hill, cascading over the observation platform.

“It’s beginning,” Gerlach said.

Both men turned their attention to the bell-shaped Hive. Its brushed-metal surface reflected the sun’s light and made it hard to look at directly. A concrete framework that looked like a modern Stonehenge surrounded the device and held four spools of metal cable, each attached to the base of the Hive.

The buzz grew louder and a flicker of blue light, brighter than the sun’s reflection, pulsed across the Hive’s exterior. Gerlach glanced at his watch. “Ten seconds.”

Debus licked his lips.

And then it began.

Shrill cries of pain rose up from the valley below, so sharp that they cut straight through the droning buzz. Debus’s hands shook as he witnessed the impossible. He focused on a single man, fighting the twisting knot in his gut.

The man’s skin had been taut with hunger, muscles and bones clearly visible. All at once, the skin loosened and hung, as though his muscles had been liquefied. When dark red ooze began flowing from all of the man’s orifices, Debus realized that was exactly what had happened. Different colors joined the mix, each substance of the man’s internal organs flowing out as a distinct color, many of which he did not know existed within the human body. In ten seconds, the insides of his body had poured out of him, leaving a husk of skin hanging on bone. He thought that was the end, but then the skin began separating from itself, hanging in large sheets, dripping oily fluids before falling clean from the bones.

Debus bit his lip to hide its trembling, but couldn’t stop a gasp of shock from escaping as the cartilage holding the man’s bones together stretched out and then separated. The bones fell away, mixing with a puddle of what once was a man. The radius and ulna bones of the man’s forearms hung from the rope bindings.

A second set of screams rose up from below.

“Has it reached the second ring already?” Debus asked, shifting his view.

“No,” Gerlach replied. “They saw what happened to the others. It will reach them soon enough. But there are far more interesting sights at the moment.” He took hold of Debus’s binoculars and pulled them back toward the Hive.

Debus squinted at the bright blue light pulsing from the bell, but once his eyes adjusted he saw something amazing. The binoculars fell from his eyes. He looked up at his slightly taller counterpart. “It is flying?”

“Hovering. Thanks to your power supply.”

A wide grin spread across Debus’s face. A shift in the screaming below turned him back to the valley. He watched, without binoculars, as the invisible field emitted by the Hive reached the second ring. He could see the bodies shearing away from the posts. But movement took his eyes away from the silenced test subjects.

The Hive rose up into the air, slowly at first, and then rapidly. Fifty feet from the ground the metal cables snapped taut and the bell’s ascent came to a sudden stop. It pulled against its restraints and for a moment Gerlach feared it might break free. But the cables held, and the now bright blue bell remained stationary.

“The bomber is inbound,” Mazuw said. “Initiate stage two.”

Gerlach didn’t respond. He knew Mazuw wasn’t addressing him and didn’t want to miss what was about to happen. This was the second untested portion of this experiment, the first being flight. The second was something that if executed to its full potential … well, there was a reason this project alone had been deemed
Kriegsentscheidend
—decisive for the war.

“What’s stage two?” Debus asked.

The buzz of the Hive was joined by the low rumble of plane engines. The roar of the plane grew louder, blotting out the sound of the bell completely as the large four-engine Fw 200 Condor passed just overhead. Papers and hats flew up and away in its wake. Gerlach held his wispy hair and silently cursed the plane. But he couldn’t blame the pilots. He knew they had to skirt this hill, descending into the valley quickly so they could empty their payload into the energy field and pull up before careening into another hill. He gripped the handrail and leaned forward, eager to see if his theories would prove true.

The Condor’s bomb bay doors opened. A massive gray cloud of fine particles poured out. The particles fell toward the bell slowly at first, held aloft by the valley’s high winds. For a moment, Gerlach feared the wind would ruin the test, but then the cloud began to spin. A vortex formed at the middle, spinning faster. A bolt of lightning shot from the cloud, nearly striking the bomber as it banked out of the valley. A thunderous boom struck the observation platform.

With a flash of bright blue light, the storm of particles spun down into a small opening at the top of the bell.

What happened next left Gerlach, Debus, Mazuw, sixty-two scientists, and one hundred soldiers speechless. They gaped in silence as the phenomenon that followed descended on the valley. The screams of the remaining Jews in the outer circle became muddled by gagging. Then they too fell silent. A flock of birds sprang from the trees at the bottom of the hill. Thirty feet from the surface, their flight became erratic. As one, they fell back to the earth, dead.

Debus gripped Gerlach’s coat sleeve.

“I know,” Gerlach said. “It’s amazing.”

More birds rose from the trees, falling moments later.

“No, Walther. The birds.”

Gerlach hadn’t paid attention to the birds. He’d been too busy admiring his invention. But now that Debus had pointed them out, he saw what had the man concerned. He felt a tickle on his head, and brushed his hair down. Then he realized what was happening. The wind had turned in their direction, and it was carrying the Hive’s deadly product toward them.

After spinning around so fast that he nearly fell over, Gerlach shouted, “Shut it down!”

“What?” Mazuw asked. “Why?”

Gerlach stabbed a finger to the hill descending below them. “The birds!”

Mazuw saw a fresh flock of birds take to the sky only to drop dead seconds later. But these birds were only one hundred feet away. Mazuw gave the command and the device was shut down. The buzzing slowed. They watched through a red haze as the bell slowly descended toward the launchpad.

Gerlach sighed with relief and followed it with a deep breath. But the air in his lungs seemed inadequate. He took a second breath and found no relief. His eyes widened as he saw the others around him similarly affected. They had shut down the bell, but not the wind. With the last of the air in his lungs he shouted, “Down the hill! Run!”

One hundred sixty-five men abandoned the observation platform, pounding down the hill away from the test site. Men fell, cursed, and toppled over one another, but no one slowed. Two hundred feet below the hill’s crest, they stopped. Gerlach gasped for air, terrified for several seconds until the burning in his lungs began to ebb. The air was fresh and full of earthy scents. Birds danced in the tree branches and a few chipmunks stared at them. They were safe.

Mazuw stormed across the forest floor. His cap was missing. His uniform held sticks and patches of mud. And his eyes burned with fury. “What happened?” he demanded with a growl.

“The wind. It shifted the effects toward the platform.”

“We were a half mile away,” Debus noted.

Gerlach fought a widening smile, but could not contain it.

Mazuw took Gerlach by the coat, putting his bulldog face within inches of the scientist’s. “We were almost killed.
My men,
who are the very best the SS have produced and represent the future of the Reich, were almost killed.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

“Because, Obergruppenführer, it worked. Beyond our greatest expectations. It worked.”

Mazuw considered this for a moment before letting go of Gerlach’s shirt. His expression became one of deep thought. “Well done,” he said after nearly a minute. “You will speak of this to no one.”

“But there is much to do if we are to use this against the Allies,” Gerlach said.

“There is not enough time,” Mazuw said. “The war is all but over.”

“But—”

“Patience is as deadly a weapon as any, Gerlach. The device will be moved. Refined. And when the conditions are right…”

“Where are we going?”

“
They,
” he said, while motioning to his men, “are going with Kammler. To someplace you cannot follow. A man of your, and Debus’s, renown will be sought after by the Allies when the war ends. Your disappearance would lead to questions. Do not fear, Doctor, we will be in touch.”

“But … where will we go?” Debus asked.

“You will surrender, of course. Avoid the Russians. Find the Americans, if you can. Agree to aid them in any way, but
never
mention what you saw here today or any part of this project. We
will
rise from the ashes. Am I understood?”

Debus nodded, once again fidgeting with his fingers.

“Yes, Obergruppenführer. I have but one more question.”

Mazuw stared at him, waiting.

“What will happen to our team? Surely you can’t—”

“Take aim!” Mazuw shouted. The forest filled with the sounds of weapons being readied and people shouting in fear. “Fire!”

1

M
IAMI
, F
LORIDA

W
EDNESDAY—
A
UGUST
8, 2012

“Shit!”

The microwave door flew open and Rachel Carter reached her hand in.

The spoon, left in the bowl of oatmeal and heated along with the cardboard-flavored breakfast, had been shooting off blue sparks when she noticed it. Without thinking, she grabbed the spoon. A millisecond later, her mind registered the stupidity of her action, along with the searing heat. Her arm reacted quicker than her fingers, flailing backward. The spoon soared across the kitchen, weighted with expensive organic oats, and smacked against the stainless steel fridge, where both breakfast and spoon clung like Silly Putty.

Rachel turned on the tap and ran cold water over her pulsing index finger and thumb, her glare fixed on the spoon. It slid slowly toward the floor.

“You okay, Mom?” asked her ten-year-old daughter, Samantha.