World War III

by Heath Jannusch

  “Stay away from the windows,” she instructed Duke, who gazed up at her and barked playfully. He seemed to think it was some type of game.

  Beth glanced at the tall, metal shelves pressed up against the concrete walls. Each rack was stacked with supplies, mostly food and water. She frantically searched the boxes, looking for something with which to cover the cracks along the windows. Her hand touched something round and doughnut shaped. Duct tape!

  Beth found some plastic sheeting and quickly made her way around the basement, applying plastic and tape to all of the windows. She then rushed up the stairs and covered the door leading to the kitchen.

  When Beth was finished she stood in the center of the basement and looked around. Satisfied that all of the cracks had been covered, she continued to sift through the boxes of supplies. Her heart skipped a beat when she felt the cold metallic barrel of a .357 Magnum. Anthony really had thought of everything. She pulled the gun from the box, careful not to touch the trigger. It was heavier than she expected but the weight felt good in her hands and she felt somewhat reassured at the prospect of an invasion.

  She sat down on one of the two army cots and leaned back against the concrete wall, the pistol resting safely in her lap. She felt the tension in her muscles begin to slowly drain away. It was a good thing that Anthony had stocked the basement so well. There was no telling how long she and Duke would have to stay in hiding.

  From Russia with Love

  World War III – Day One

  Pacific Ocean off the United States Coast

  Captain Yuri Petrov, an officer of the SVR, formerly the KGB, safely observed the nuclear explosions from the deck of the Admiral Flota Sovetskogo Soyuza Kuznetsov Aircraft Carrier. Watching the distant mushroom clouds rise higher and higher, he took a slow drag from the cigarette clenched between his teeth, his face void of emotion. Dressed in his Captain’s uniform and black combat boots, his physique was nothing less than intimidating. He had sinister light green eyes and dark brown hair, which complimented his tan complexion in a way that had made many of his colleagues envious. Even the loosely fit uniform couldn’t conceal his muscles bulging beneath the fabric.

  Having joined the Russian Army at the young age of seventeen, Yuri rose slowly through the ranks. It had taken him over twenty years of hard work and dedication to reach the rank of Captain and with it, the trust of his commanding officers. Now in his late thirties, he was a confirmed bachelor. Having chosen the life of a professional soldier he’d had no desire of taking on the extra responsibility of a family. Any female companionship that he desired could be found with ease. Yuri knew how to get what he wanted from women with very little effort.

  In addition, the Russian Federation had made it quite clear that officers with baggage were less likely to be promoted. Of course, the Communist Party had always frowned on a strong family unit and over the years had systematically urged citizens to remain single and dedicated to the party alone. The intent of the propaganda was to break down the idea of individual rights and instead promote the concept of a collective society. History had proven that people were much easier to control under a Communist regime as opposed to that of a free Republic.

  Floating approximately one hundred miles off the western coast of the United States, the massive Russian Armada was poised and ready for war. The hustle and bustle on board the flagship was chaotic. Crewman ran back and forth, sliding along the slippery deck as they prepared for the invasion. Captain Petrov was one of only a handful of men who’d known in advance when and where the nuclear bombs were to be detonated. Not even the skipper, Admiral Nikita, was aware of the top secret information which Yuri possessed.

  The Admiral’s orders had been simple; position the Russian fleet off the U.S. Pacific Coastline and await further orders. The world-wide power outage caused by the meteor shower only a few weeks prior, had given them the perfect opportunity to sneak in close to the sleeping giant. Hundreds of warships were now floating on either side of his vessel. War was imminent. He knew that his beloved country had been secretly preparing for a conflict with the Americans for some time and the nuclear strike was just the beginning. Before leaving Mother Russia the Admiral had been instructed to provide Captain Petrov with anything that he required anything at all. But who was the Captain really and why was his top secret mission so important? For the Admiral, these and many more questions would forever remain a mystery.

  Time seemed to stand still, as Yuri watched smoke from the nuclear explosions billowing towards the heavens. Dark clouds gathered east of the armada and he knew it wouldn’t be long before it was raining down upon them. Gale force winds had suddenly come out of nowhere, turning the surface of the ocean choppy and carrying with them the ominous storm. Wave after wave crashed into the hull of the ship, spraying Yuri with a mist of cold, salty water. The top secret mission weighed heavily on his mind and occupied his every thought. As the weather worsened he wondered how it would affect the invasion.

  Several minutes passed before Yuri was joined on the deck by Lieutenant Sasha Razin, his second in command. Standing beside his Captain, the younger officer shifted his gaze from the smoking coast to the approaching storm and then back again. Strong gusts of wind tossed his hair back and forth, as light from the nuclear explosions illuminated his soft, pale skin. Although he was several inches taller than Captain Petrov, he looked much less intimidating. Despite the lieutenant’s feigned confidence, Yuri could see that his deep blue eyes were full of fear.

  “There’s no going back now,” replied Sasha. “Did you know this was coming?”

  “Yes,” answered Yuri, without displaying any emotion, “this is just the beginning.”

  Lieutenant Sasha Razin had spent nearly ten years in Russia’s elite foreign Special Forces, commonly referred to as Spetsnaz. Now in command of a highly trained unit of twelve battle hardened soldiers, Sasha’s orders were to protect and escort Captain Yuri Petrov, as he embarked upon a top secret mission. The details of the mission were classified and Yuri alone knew the particulars.

  Yuri glanced at a small group of soldiers standing quietly near the starboard railing. The steady downpour of rain drizzled down their helmets and fell to the deck of the ship. Their somber faces and deadly stare mirrored one another, as they watched the smoldering coastline. Unlike the other soldiers who stood shivering on the deck, the cold didn’t seem to affect these men. Yuri’s gaze dropped to the small patch sewn into the uniform of the nearest soldier. The patch, located on his left bicep, was black and diamond shaped with a yellow lightning bolt down the center.

  “Hmm,” grunted Yuri in disgust, before spitting over the railing into the turbulent sea.

  Sasha followed Yuri’s gaze to the small group of soldiers. “What’s wrong Captain?”

  “I don’t trust those hybrid bastards,” answered Yuri. “Man and machine weren’t meant to be mingled together.”

  “But their enhancements make them stronger, faster and all around better soldiers,” replied Sasha, as though he were reading the propaganda from off a poster.

  “Yes Lieutenant,” agreed Yuri, “but at what cost?”

  Sasha sighed and looked down at his biometric arm which mother Russia had provided him with after losing his own in combat. Gripping the railing in front of him as the ship rocked back and forth, he decided not to tell his Captain.

  Sasha was aware of the fact that some of the men, feeling replaced and obsolete, were jealous of the new super-soldiers. Many of the men referred to the hybrids as Metal Heads and used other derogatory terms, but Sasha didn’t mind. His new biometric arm was a hundred times stronger than his own arm had been. Although he enjoyed his newly acquired strength and abilities, he’d also noticed a feeling of emptiness that had overtaken him ever since the operation.

  “It changes them,” said Yuri, breaking the silence.

  “What do you mean?” asked Sasha.

  “I had a friend who volunteered for the program,” continued Yuri. “After they’d fin
ished,” he paused, as if searching for the appropriate words, “enhancing him, he was never the same. As time passed by, he became more and more distant until one day he just snapped.”

  “What happened comrade Petrov?”

  “He was eating dinner one night with his family when suddenly he lunged across the table and killed his wife, right in front of their children. But that wasn’t the worst of it. When he’d finished butchering his wife with a butter knife, he turned on the children.”

  “Oh my!” exclaimed Sasha. “What happened to him?”

  “I don’t know,” admitted Yuri. “I never saw him again.”

  “And you think it had something to do with his operation?”

  “That and the chemicals they pump into those poor fools. It changes their personality, making it easier for the government to control them. There’s no way in hell I’d let them modify my body.”

  “But comrade without the super-soldiers leading the charge we’d take a lot more casualties,” pointed out Sasha.

  “I don’t give a damn!” hissed Yuri. “I’d rather see my men die as men, not machines. Trust me. We don’t need those synthetic shits!”

  After listening to Yuri’s contempt towards the super-soldiers, Sasha realized he could not change the Captain’s mind, “Should I ready the men Captain?” he asked.

  “No, not yet,” answered Yuri, “let them rest. It will take a couple of days for the fallout to disperse. Then we will launch our assault.”

  “Yes sir!” replied Sasha, saluting Captain Petrov. Without another word he turned and headed below deck.

  Sasha was concerned but knew better than to question his commanding officer. Captain Petrov was not known for giving explanations and was rumored to have a fierce temper. Sasha had no intention of finding out first hand if the rumors were true.

  Departing the deck, the Lieutenant silently hoped that the Americans wouldn’t be able to fortify their beaches during the chaos caused by the nuclear strike. He remembered all too clearly the immense losses sustained during World War II when allied forces stormed the heavily fortified beaches of Normandy. He stopped briefly at the top of the steps leading from the flight deck to the belly of the ship and glanced back towards the Captain.

  Yuri had a smirk on his face as he scanned the surrounding armada of battleships, destroyers, cruisers and carriers. The cool confidence radiating from the senior officer made Sasha feel a little bit better. Continuing down into the hull of the ship his boot slipped on the wet steps, almost causing him to fall.

  Yuri glanced back and watched Sasha disappear below deck. He could sense the junior officer’s concern over what was happening, but felt secure in the course of action his superiors were taking. The Americans had been dazed and confused ever since millions of their countrymen had vanished in the twinkling of an eye. He knew all too well, that they were in no way prepared, for such an enormous assault.

  He wasn’t sure why his commanders thought the United States had anything to do with what had happened in Israel a few weeks ago. After all, the Americans had been just as severely affected by The Vanishing and the power outage as the rest of the world and lost more people than any other two countries combined. Yet despite their reasoning, Yuri was proud to see his country’s show of force. For such a long time now the United States had been the world’s only super power, not to mention a nation of arrogant bullies. He was of the firm belief that they deserved what was coming. He didn’t like the Americans, or their way of life and was looking forward to changing it, regardless of the excuse being used by his superiors.

  Raven Claw

  World War III – Day One

  Fort Worth, Texas

  Lieutenant Colonel Kye Williams, call-sign Raven Claw, lay lounging on his cot reading a mystery novel when screaming sirens broke the silence. He laid there for a moment before moving, listening to the blare of the alarm. He wasn’t aware of any training exercises scheduled for today and as the senior officer in his squadron, he should have been notified in advance.

  At five feet ten inches, Kye was the tallest pilot on base. He’d recently returned from San Antonio where his wife and two daughters lived, having celebrated his 40th birthday with them. The leave of absence had been a short one and Kye wished he was still at home with his family.

  A yawn escaped from his lips as he stretched and rubbed his eyes. It was going to be a long day. Already wearing his jumpsuit, Kye swung his feet to the floor and sat up on his cot. Reaching under the cot, he grabbed his boots and quickly pulled them on. He ran his fingers through his dark brown hair and snatched his sunglasses from off the end-table beside his cot. He left the book he’d been reading on his pillow and dashed for the door. Turning right he raced down the corridor, as other pilots emerged from their rooms.

  The growing number of aviators scurried through the open hanger and out onto the tarmac, where their fighter jets sat, waiting and ready for action. The smell of engine oil and gasoline filled his nostrils instantly. Kye darted for a jet with a painting of Betty Boop on its side. He’d personally drawn the picture in honor of his wife Betty.

  The F-35 Lightening II was one of the newest, most technologically advanced fighter jets in the United States arsenal, and Fort Worth, Texas was home to twenty of them. The jet was equipped with a right-hand side stick controller and a cockpit speech recognition system. The helmet-mounted display system came with built in sensors that could track and target a nearby aircraft from any orientation, provide the information to the pilot through his helmet and then provide the seeker-head of a missile with the same information, all in a matter of seconds.

  Armed with a four-barrel, 25mm cannon, the jet was a formidable weapon. It was equipped with external hard points, capable of mounting four pylons and two rear wingtip pylons. The pylons were armed with short-range air-to-air missiles, cruise missiles and guided bombs. The jet was also equipped with two internal weapon bays carrying air-to-ground bombs, air-to-air missiles, anti-armor missiles and cluster munitions. When it came to fighter jets, the F-35 was the Brasses’ new favorite but Kye didn’t share their confidence. They’d been experiencing technical difficulties with them from the beginning and he didn’t trust this bird to keep him safe.

  Lt. Col. Williams quickly ascended the steps to his fighter jet and climbed into the cockpit. While the ground crew rushed to ready his ride, he glanced around at the other fighter jets on the tarmac and couldn’t help but grin. For some reason he always became excited and full of adrenaline right before takeoff. Perhaps it was simply the prospect of battle that thrilled him so much.

  From the corner of his eye, he caught movement and turned to look in that direction. To the south he could see a large mushroom shaped plume of smoke rising ominously into the sky. His heart skipped a beat and for a moment he just stared in disbelief. Quickly and silently he began listing the cities to the south, trying to figure out which one had been hit. The answer was suddenly provided when he overheard two of the ground crew talking.

  “Man, I can’t believe they got Houston!”

  Relief washed over Kye, as he realized that San Antonio hadn’t been hit. He was considering America’s enemies, when the order clearing him for takeoff was received over the radio. The canopy lowered and he began to taxi down the runway at the head of his squadron.

  A moment later Kye was in the air. He looked down at the airbase below and watched as the last F-35 launched and assumed its position in formation.

  “Alright boys,” he called out over the radio, “I guess I don’t need to tell ya this is the real deal. Our orders are to head for the Pacific seaboard of California and engage the enemy.”

  “Roger that Raven Claw. Who exactly is the enemy?” asked one of the airmen, call-sign Thumper.

  From high up in the sky, the pilots could now see several more of the dark mushroom clouds. They seemed to be everywhere!

  “I’m not exactly sure,” admitted Kye. “It sounds like there’s a huge armada of warships off the coast, compri
sed of mostly Russian and Chinese vessels. I’m also hearing chatter that some of the nukes were launched from the Middle East. Could have been Iran, Iraq or maybe even Syria, there’s no way of telling just yet. The reports flooding in over the radio are spotty to say the least, but the bottom line is we’re going to war, and it looks like we’re up against more than just one country!”

  “I’ll bet it’s the Russkies who started it,” stated one of the pilots, call-sign Oddball.

  “Nah, my money’s on the Chinese,” replied another pilot, call-sign Mercury.

  “Stop worrying about who’s behind the attack,” ordered Kye. “I need all of you to stay focused and keep your heads in the game!”

  “Yes sir!” came multiple responses over the radio.

  Joined by several dozen F-16’s and F-22’s the squadron of F-35’s, led by Lt. Col. Williams, headed west at top speed towards the coastline of California, and what had now become the front line of World War III.

  Air Force One

  World War III – Day One

  The Sky above Virginia

  “Who attacked us?” demanded President John Hamilton, staring out his office window onboard Air Force One. At this altitude, all that could be seen was a grey haze of clouds. He could only imagine what the Earth looked like, far below.

  “That hasn’t been confirmed yet, Mr. President,” answered Chief of Staff, Mathew Moore. In his hand was a list of American cities which had been destroyed by the nuclear assault. “The missiles were launched from multiple locations and we’re still trying to identify the exact points of origin.”