World War Forever (Highway To Armageddon Book 2)

by Harold Bloemer

  We’re just about to climb into the car when a young Chiquito women bursts forth from some nearby bushes, covered in blood, screaming in agony. She races toward us, her blood-soaked hands reaching out to us… begging us to assist her. Then a gunshot rings out, the front of the women’s head explodes, and she drops to the muddy ground, never to move again. Seconds later half a dozen heavily armed American troops rush into the clearing, pointing their machine guns at us. I look over at Boom Boom and the others and groan at the sight of red laser lights illuminating their foreheads. If these soldiers press down on their triggers, we’re all as good as dead.

  “Freeze, scumbags!” one of the soldiers shouts, stepping so close to me that the barrel of his machine gun is inches from my face. “One false move and we’ll blow your fucking brains out!”

  “Goddamn it,” Grenade growls as he raises his hands. He glances at us and barks, “Do what he says! There’s no way out of this! I should know! I’ve been through enough… UGH!”

  One of the other soldiers thrusts the butt of his gun into Grenade’s gut. Grenade bowls over and falls to his knees, groaning in pain.

  “Goddamn it,” he growls again.

  “Shut up, asshole!” the soldier screams, slamming the butt of his gun into the back of Grenade’s head. Grenade falls face-first into the mud.

  “Leave him alone!” Boom Boom shrieks at his attacker. “Can’t you see the shape he’s in? You can’t just--- ARGH!”

  Another soldier rushes up and hits Boom Boom with his gun. I grit my teeth and clench my fists. It takes every iota of self-control I possess not to throttle the jackass. But I know if I attack the soldiers, it’ll just end with our bullet-riddled corpses sprawled out on the ground in ever-growing puddles of blood.

  “Get down on your knees with your hands behind you heads!” barks the soldier who hit Grenade. “Do it NOW!!”

  I nod at Krystal and Klaxton and we all kneel down. Three of the soldiers stand back, keeping their guns trained on us while the others pat us down, confiscating our utility belts and any other weapon they happen to find on our persons. (They miss a few knives hidden in concealed compartments inside my body armor, which I of course fail to bring to their attention.)

  “We should have left a long time ago,” Klaxton mutters under her breath.

  “Shut up, you traitorous bitch!” one of the female soldiers hisses, slamming her gun against Klaxton’s back. Klaxton cries out and falls into the mud. I may not be particularly fond of the former president, but seeing her brutalized while completely defenseless enrages me to no end. As I mentioned before, it’s taking all of my self-control not to retaliate.

  Another soldier pulls Klaxton back into a kneeling position. “We finally got you, you bitch,” he says with a shit-eating smirk. “We’ve been looking for you for a long, long time. Per President LeBeau’s orders, you’re to be handed directly over to the Chinese. Hopefully that will be enough to sate their hunger for war. I sure hope so, at least. None of us want to fight another damn war, let alone a world war.”

  I glance around as all the soldiers nod in agreement. Stupid dumbasses. Do they really think handing Klaxton over will convince the Chinese to turn their ships around and go back home? The odds of them being drafted into a world war are going to skyrocket with Klaxton out of the picture, not diminish!

  Klaxton glares up at her captor and snarls, “Suck my dick, you cunt.”

  She then spits in the soldier’s face.

  Krystal bursts out laughing. “You tell those assholes, Klaxton! Don’t let them—AHHH!! Motherfucker!”

  Krystal falls to the ground, the victim of a pistol-whip to the face. Klaxton is hit again, too, right in the jaw with a bare fist. I try to stagger to my feet, but I, too, get struck down for my efforts. I fall face-first into the mud, struggling like mad not to black out from the agonizing pain erupting in the back of my head.

  I look up through water-filled eyes to find one of the male soldiers aiming his gun at my forehead.

  “We have orders to bring Klaxton in alive,” the soldier says. “We have no such orders, however, for you and your friends. Hope you enjoyed your final act of defiance, punk. You’re gonna need all the bravado you can muster where you’re going.”

  The soldier cocks his gun and starts to pull on the trigger. I close my eyes and anxiously await the gunshot that will signify my abrupt exit from this world.

  Instead, I hear the sound of something whizzing through the air, followed by a yelp.

  I crack open my eyes to find the soldier toppling over. I look closer as he falls next to me on the ground. Two throwing stars are imbedded in his forehead and jugular. Blood pours from his head wound and trickles into his lifeless eyes.

  Throwing stars. That can only mean one thing!

  “Yang! Marco!” I shout in delirious joy, rolling over and grinning at the sight of two familiar ninjas back flipping toward us, hurling dozens of throwing stars into the astonished faces of our attackers. With a matter of seconds the remaining five soldiers are on the ground, blood pouring from their various wounds. But Yang and Marco don’t stop there. They whip out their gleaming, three-foot long katana blades and start lopping off the soldiers’ limbs and heads. One freshly severed head lands right next to me, his mouth open in a silent scream, his eyes still blinking.

  “Ew, gross,” I say in disgust. I kick the head like a soccer ball and watch it roll into some nearby bushes.

  After all the soldiers are brutally slaughtered, Yin lands next to me and says, “Happy to see us?”

  “You have no idea,” I say, pushing myself up. Klaxton, Boom Boom, and Krystal stagger to their feet as well. Grenade isn’t as quick to rise. He’s in horrifically bad shape.

  I extend my hand to Yang. “Thank you so much. This is the second time in the span of a few months that you’ve saved our lives.”

  Yang shakes my hand and says, “Don’t mention it. Marco and I were getting tired of Pitbull anyway. He was a sick, twisted man who deserved his fate.”

  Yang steals a quick glance at Pitbull’s severed body parts. “When Pitbull gave the order to invade this village, we decided we’d had enough. We stayed back, waiting for the right moment to intervene. Now seemed as good a time as any.”

  “So you’re going to let us go?” Boom Boom asks, stunned.

  “Shhh, don’t make them change their mind, Boom Boom,” Krystal says in a hushed whisper.

  Yang smirks and says, “Yeah, we’re going to let you guys go. You’re good, honorable people. I’m not exactly sure what you’re up to working with her…”

  Yang glares at Klaxton.

  “… but whatever it is, I trust that you guys know what you’re doing. Now get out of here. Marco and I can’t hold back the U.S. military forever.”

  “Thanks once again, Yang,” I say as we back toward the car. “Hopefully we meet again one day.”

  “Hopefully under better circumstances,” Yang says with a wry smile.

  Four more soldiers burst into the clearing and begin firing their machine guns. Yang and Marco go to work hopping around like ninja ghosts, hurling throwing stars and wielding their katana blades. The soldiers scream as they are hacked to bits.

  We don’t wait around to watch the show. Boom Boom, Grenade and I pile into the back of the flying car while Krystal hops into the driver’s seat and Klaxton joins her in the front passenger seat. Krystal starts the car and we lift into the air, just as more soldiers flood into the clearing. The soldiers fire at us, forcing us all to duck down to the floorboard. Krystal slams on the accelerator and we zoom forward, causing us all to fly back into our seats.

  “That was close,” I say, peering over the back of the car. Dozens of soldiers continue to spill into the very clearing we just escaped from. Several helicopters are hovering over the spot as well. If we had waited even a few more seconds, we never would have made it off the ground.

  As we hurtle through the sky at close to 200 miles an hour, I can’t help but reflect on all the d
eath and destruction we just witnessed. Are all the Chiquito dead? Is that why all the soldiers were congregating in the clearing? Were they out of targets to gun down? And what about Yang and Marco? Will they die, too? I can’t see how they can possibly take down dozens of soldiers all by their lonesome. I hope to God they manage to get away.

  So much death and destruction… so much chaos… and here were are, flying away like cowards. And after all the shit we just went through, we’re nowhere close to the finish line. Not by a longshot. Even if we get to the compound without running into any more soldiers (which isn’t a given), and even if we get back to D.C. in one piece, we still have to invade the most heavily defended facility on the planet and overthrow a sitting United States President. Like that’s going to be fucking easy. Seriously, what the hell are we doing? Are we all cracked out of our minds??

  A hacking cough jolts me out of my thoughts. I grimace at the sight of Grenade leaning over the side of the car, spitting up more blood. It’s hard to stay mad at someone when it’s obvious they’re not long for this world. Maybe if Grenade can hold himself together until we get back to the States, we’ll be able to get him some medical attention. Maybe he’ll overcome his injuries. Yeah I’m pissed that he lied to us, but I sure as hell don’t want him to die.

  I lower my head and massage my throbbing temples, trying desperately to remain calm and collected. I need to find a way to stay positive… pretend we have a chance of pulling this off. But if I’m being honest with myself, then I have to admit all it feels like we’re doing is hurtling down the Highway to Armageddon. And when we finally reach the end of that proverbial highway, we’re going to be royally fucked.

  Chapter Eleven: Boom Boom

  We’re only in the air for a few minutes when Klaxton points out the window and says, “Down there! That’s the compound!”

  Krystal cocks an eyebrow in the rearview mirror. “Uh, you sure? All I see are a bunch of damn trees.”

  “Yes I’m sure,” Klaxton snaps. “Take us down, now!”

  Krystal sighs and says, “Aye aye, Captain Bitch.”

  Klaxton growls as Krystal takes us into a nose-dive, causing us all to lurch forward in our seats. Grenade coughs up more blood, which splatters against the back of Krystal’s chair.

  Krystal pulls up a split-second before we would have slammed into the ground (she loves to do that, for some reason) and parks the car in the middle of a small clearing.

  We all get out and look around.

  “Er, where is it, Angela?” Lance asks wearily.

  “Under your feet,” Klaxton says, marching over to a dead tree stump.

  “Oookay,” Lance says, helping Grenade make his way over to the stump. Krystal and I exchange skeptical glances and follow after them.

  When Klaxton reaches the tree stump, she theatrically waves her hand over it. I initially come to the conclusion that Klaxton has gone off the deep end. But then a holographic control panel materializes out of thin air. Klaxton punches some sort of complex code into the holographic keypad (I notice she thrusts her finger against the keypad at least 20 times), then steps back. There’s a strange buzzing noise, followed by a small doorway opening up in the jungle floor, right next to the stump. We all crowd around and peer inside. A few stairs descend into the seemingly impenetrable darkness.

  “Are you sure this is your ‘secret compound’?” I ask, making quote marks with my fingers when I say secret compound.

  “Shut up and follow me,” Klaxton responds before marching down the stairwell. Within a matter of seconds she’s swallowed up by darkness.

  Krystal looks up at the pouring rain and says, “If going down this spooky-ass hole will get my fat ass out of this godforsaken thunderstorm, then I’m all for it.”

  Krystal stomps down the stairs after Klaxton, disappearing right before our very eyes.

  Lane and I exchange another uneasy glance.

  “I guess we should follow them,” Lance say uncertainly.

  “I guess so,” I reply.

  Grenade groans in agony, reminding us that we’re not alone.

  “C’mon, let’s help him down.” Lance steps backwards onto the first step with his hands held out, helping guide Grenade through the doorway. This way Lance will be able to catch him if he trips and falls. I walk behind Grenade in case he slips backwards.

  Grenade slowly stumbles down the stairs, nearly slipping every few feet. The massive amount of blood leaking from his various wounds is making the stairs super slippery. The rain pouring through the secret doorway isn’t helping matters, either.

  As soon as my entire body disappears through the secret trap door, the ground above us closes up, plunging us into complete darkness. Thankfully the visor I confiscated from Alex has a night-vision function that allows me to see.

  Even if I didn’t have the visor, though, I would have been fine. A few seconds later bright flood lights flicker on, illuminating our path.

  The stairs seem to go on forever. When we finally reach the bottom of the stairs, Klaxton waves her hands and the entire compound lights up. I’m immediately taken aback by how massive it is. The compound appears to be at least 30,000 square feet. Maybe even more than that. There are about a dozen flying cars sitting in the center of the compound, along with three helicopter-jets. I look up to find a circular hatch door in the celling, big enough for a plane to fit through.

  There’s also a massive armory off to the side of the compound, chock full of machine guns, body armor, ammunition cartridges, grenades, and computerized goggles. On the opposite side of the compound is an open closet full of canned goods and bottled water. It’s enough weaponry and food to support a small army. This is the perfect place to hole up if… or should I say when… the end of the world happens.

  Klaxton points at the armory. “Grab as many weapons as you can and hop into one of the helicopter-jets. We need to get out of here before…”

  The sound of rapidly approaching footsteps causes Klaxton to trail off in mid-sentence. We all turn around just in time to see a small sphere whizzing toward us. The sphere slams into the ground and a brilliant flash of light engulfs our field of vision.

  “Shit, it’s a flash grenade!” Klaxton shouts. I can’t see her, though. All I see is a blinding white light.

  I stagger around blindly, cursing and swinging my fists. Someone sweeps their legs underneath me, and I start to fall backwards. Before I slam onto the concrete floor, however, someone grabs my flailing arms and gently lays me down. My visor is ripped from my face, leaving me without my deadliest weapon.

  “Stay put, Boom Boom. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Alex?!” I cry, reaching out for him.

  But he’s gone. I can hear him running toward someone else. There’s a yelp, followed by the sound of someone slamming into the unforgiving concrete. I think it was Krystal. When she starts cursing up a storm a split-second later, my suspicions are confirmed.

  Lance suddenly cries out. There’s a zapping sound, and Lance’s cries grow louder. Alex must be tasing him. Grenade growls and lumbers toward Alex (I can hear him breathing all heavily), but he gets tased, too. Last but not least, Klaxton groans as she gets knocked to the floor. Then I hear a click.

  I push myself up and turn toward the sound of the gun. I still can’t see jack shit, but the bright light is finally starting to dim.

  “I’m sorry it has to be this way, Madam President,” Alex says in a trembling voice. He sound scared to death. “I wish there was another path forward. But if your death is what it takes to secure world peace, then I’m more than willing to put a bullet in your head.”

  I reach out toward the sound of his voice and shout, “Alex, stop! You’re making a terrible mistake!”

  I blink my eyes furiously, which helps restore some of my vision. I can finally make out Alex’s body. It’s all distorted and fuzzy, and everything still looks incredibly bright, but I’m able to detect his shaggy black hair, his slender body, and his outstretched right hand,
aiming a handgun directly at Klaxton, who is sprawled out on the ground, looking up at her would-be assassin. I also notice that he’s clutching his goggles in his other hand.

  Without even a sideways glance in my direction, Alex says, “I have to do this, Boom Boom. She can’t be allowed to live. The president must die!”

  “You’re absolutely right, Alex!” I blurt out, slowly crawling toward him. “I agree with you 100%.”

  “What?!” Klaxton shrieks.

  “Boom Boom, no…,” Lance moans off in the distance. He’s keeled over next to one of the flying cars, reeling from the effects of Alex’s brutal assault. Krystal is about 20 feet away from him, sprawled out on her back like a piece of road kill, moaning in pain. And Grenade is face down in a growing pool of blood, not moving at all. I’m trying not to panic, but if Grenade had even the tiniest bit of strength left in him, Alex would be dead right now. The fact that he’s just lying there… that’s not good. It also means it’s up to me to stop Alex from assassinating the once-and-future president. No one else is in a position to do anything.