Second Chance
Chapter 38

SECOND CHANCE is copyright protected. Any use, including reprints, without specific written permission is forbidden and illegal

DoOver Sci-fi Sex Story: Chapter 38 - 43 year old Carl watched helplessly as Death came for him in the form of an overloaded produce truck. Suddenly he found himself in the body of a 14 year old boy, injured in the same accident. Now Carl had to learn how to live as Brian and cope with a new life and a loving mother.

Caution: This DoOver Sci-fi Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including mt/Fa   Consensual   Science Fiction   DoOver   Incest   Mother   Son   First   Oral Sex   Anal Sex   Masturbation   Petting  

"Mr. President? Mr. President??" The voice was near but not near, and I felt my head loll back against the airplane seat.

"Mr. President?"

It was Steve. His look said it all.

"Just say it," I tried to steel myself for bad news.

"The Secret Service just found the first family, but not the President. Diane, Shirley, and Casey died in the blasts. Their bodies are on the way to Bethesda Naval Hospital for autopsy.

"I am sorry, Sir. We are all aware of how close you were to the first family."

He looked ready to break down, so I pointed to the other recliner chair in my private suite aboard Air Force Two - Now Air Force One - at least until Charles was found and back in charge.

Oh my, god. Diane, Shirley and my little darling, Casey. How could someone slaughter two women and a little child? I knew Charles was going to go nuclear when he found out and had a chance to think about it.

If he survived...

"Sit down, Steve. Get some rest. That's an order." I excused myself and headed to the comm. room.

"CIC on deck," an over anxious Air Force officer shouted.

"As you were," I said softly. Everybody was too tired to jump and down every time I walked in the room. "Steve gave me the news. Does the media know yet?'

A voice responded to that from the video monitor at the place where I always sit. "Mr. President, nobody has that yet. We were waiting to talk with you before releasing anything what-so-ever, Sir." It was a protocol officer from the White House. None of the day staff would have been around when the cottage was attacked, I realized. At least some of them could come in and get to work in the Executive Office Building - just not the White House.

"We need to be incredibly sensitive about this. Has anyone thought of next-of-kin? We need to make notifications before we even think about the media."

The protocol officer took that one, too. "The commanding officer of the Chaplain Corps was choppered out, as soon as we had confirmed identities, and should be making notification to President Thornton's father-in-law any minute."

He didn't say anything about notifying the President. I wish people would not assume he was dead. We need a little positive karma here.

"I need Secretary Stanton, unless he is asleep, in that case, get me Secretary Dryden instead."

It happened like magic. Ken came from where ever he was and Dryden came on the monitor. "I know you know the latest on Diane, Shirley, and Casey. Better have a clergyman present at the White House to break the news to Charles when you find him. Find his pastor and get him on site. Use one of the DHS buses to keep him comfortable while he waits."

I recognized the signs. I was tired, irritable, and about to get cranky. To avoid making enemies of my closest cabinet ministers, I asked Ken to come back to a private office, so we could have a heart to heart.

It didn't take long, and I was in my private office, talking to Ken. "What's the feeling out there?" He knew exactly what I meant.

"Mr. President,"

"Stop it! We agreed to use first names when it's just us. Nothing has changed. I needed to be less touchy.

"Of course, John. "You need to face up to it. Charles couldn't have survived what they did to that building. Even if the blast failed to kill him, the oxygen was sucked completely out in the fireball. If I had to put odds to it, I'd say the chance of finding Charles Thornton alive is less than one in one-hundred thousand, if that."

I let that sink in.

"The rescue people tell me that the interior of the building is far worse than exterior, if that is even possible. You will have to face up to it, real soon, John. Tag –You're it."

 
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