World War III

by Heath Jannusch

“I don’t like being told what to do,” exclaimed Hamilton.

  Laughter filled the other end of the line. “How fitting that a man who spends his life giving orders should now be in a position to take them. Besides, you don’t have to like it, you just have to do it. That is of course, if you ever want to see your daughter again.”

  “Don’t hurt her!” cried Hamilton.

  “I don’t want to hurt her,” said the voice, in a tone that implied the opposite. “But that depends entirely on you. Do as we say and no harm will come to her. Disobey our orders, even once, and we’ll send her to you one piece at a time. Do we have an understanding?”

  “Yes,” said Hamilton, feeling uncontrollable rage well in his chest. “When can I see her?” The phone in Hamilton’s hand made a beep and he glanced down at the screen. A picture of Evelyn, tied to a chair in the center of a large ballroom, flashed across the screen. Her eye shadow was smeared and mascara was running down her face, a sign that she’d been crying, and her eyes were wide with fear. As suddenly as it had appeared, the picture was gone. “What have you done to her?” demanded Hamilton.

  “Nothing, yet,” replied the voice. “But I can’t make any guarantees, unless of course you do exactly as you’re told. Agreed?”

  “What do you want?” asked Hamilton, weighing his options.

  “We want you to locate property that was stolen from us and return it as soon as possible,” said the voice.

  “What property?”

  “Information,” said the raspy voice.

  “Information, what kind of information?” asked Hamilton.

  “That’s not your concern,” replied the voice. “Remember no questions. A few weeks ago, a rogue agent from your Central Intelligence Agency stole encrypted information, and we want it back.”

  “What agent?” asked Hamilton, who was hearing about this for the first time.

  “All we know is that his codename is Condor,” said the voice. “Our agents tracked him and his accomplice, an agent codenamed Shasta, to the United States, specifically Santa Fe, New Mexico.” The mystery caller paused for a moment, allowing the information to penetrate the cloud of fog surrounding Hamilton’s fatigued brain. “Our agents attempted to intercept Condor and the missing flash drive, but they failed. That’s where you come in.”

  “What flash drive?” Asked Hamilton.

  “The one that contains the stolen information,” answered the voice. “We want you to find Condor and get us that flash drive.”

  “How will I find him?”

  “That’s your problem,” said the voice. “You’re the President of the United States, the most powerful man in the world. Certainly you can find one man with your unlimited resources.”

  “In case you’re living in a bubble somewhere,” hissed Hamilton, losing his patients, “the world is at war and my resources are tied up! How do you expect me to find one man amidst the chaos and destruction of World War III?”

  “As I said before,” replied the raspy voice, “that’s not our problem. However, you needn’t concern yourself with the war. Everything is happening precisely as planned, but I do recommend that you free up some of those resources, if you ever want to see your beautiful daughter in one piece.”

  “Suppose I’m able to find this Condor fellow and the missing flash drive,” said Hamilton, “how will I be able to contact you?”

  “We’ll be in contact with you,” said the voice. “Keep this phone on you at all times and we’ll periodically check in. In the meantime, no one is to know of our association. If we find out that you’ve mentioned this conversation with anyone, than your daughter is as good as dead. And don’t try to be smart, we have eyes and ears everywhere. Everything you do and say is being monitored. Just do as you’re instructed and all will be well.”

  “What do I call you?” asked Hamilton.

  “I’m not one, but many, and you may call us Legion.”

  The other end of the phone made a click. “Hello?” said Hamilton, but the line was dead. What had he meant about the war happening precisely as planned? Could it be possible that this conflict was actually staged? And if so, to what end? All at once a flood of questions crept into Hamilton’s mind.

  Lewis cleared his throat. “Will there be anything else Mr. President?”

  Hamilton had nearly forgotten that Lewis was still standing there. He slammed the phone down on the table and rushed forward. Grabbing his Secretary of State around the throat, Hamilton knocked him against the wall.

  “Who has my daughter? Where did you get this phone?” He shouted, before hearing a knock from his secret service agents outside the locked door.

  “We’re ok,” said the President with a false sense of amusement, hoping to hold them off.

  “Legion will not like this Mr. President. Please, let me go. I don’t want anything to happen to Evelyn,” Lewis pleaded sincerely.

  The President released his grip on Lewis’s throat who fell to the ground gasping. “Get out!” he shouted, furiously.

  Without another word, Lewis stood up rubbing his neck and walked to the door. He unlocked the door and left the President’s office.

  The secret service agent in charge came in right after Lewis left and looked at the President. “Is everything alright Mr. President?”

  Of course, Hamilton realized, Lewis must be one of the many sets of eyes and ears that Legion had mentioned. But who else was involved and who could be trusted? He decided not to say anything to the agent, and instead offered him a drink.

  Roadside Rescue

  World War III – Day Seven

  Portland, Oregon

  A steady downpour of rain had been falling all day and showed no signs of stopping. Gripping the steering wheel tightly, Casey carefully guided the big-rig through several puddles of water. He had experienced the misfortune of hydroplaning once before and knew how hard it was to control an eighteen-wheeler on a slippery surface. Remembering the unfortunate incident, Casey lifted his foot from the gas pedal, allowing the truck to slowly decrease in speed.

  “Look!” Sandy shouted, pointing her tiny finger at the road ahead. She was sitting on the bench seat of the cab, between Casey and her mother, Shannon, while Sam lay sleeping in the back. Thankfully the antibiotics were helping Shannon and she was slowly regaining her strength. She smiled and smoothed Sandy’s wild hair, before looking in the direction of her delicate pointing finger.

  Casey squinted through the rain covered windshield and saw a large, green sign ahead with the words, WELCOME TO PORTLAND, printed in big white letters. “That’s right Sandy, Portland’s our next stop.”

  “No,” she cried out even louder, still pointing her finger. “Look! There’s someone lying in the road ahead!”

  An instant after Sandy spoke the words, Casey’s eyes found the dark mass of a body lying in the middle of the road, and his foot hit the brakes. The truck slid to a stop and as it did, Casey heard talons scrapping against metal, as chickens slid around inside the trailer. A few items shifted and fell to the floor with a thud, followed by the goat’s bleat.

  “What’s going on?” asked Sam, as he stuck his head out from behind the curtains separating the front of the cab from the sleeping quarters in the back. His hair was ruffled and sticking up in the back of his head. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he asked, “Why are we stopping?”

  “I’m sorry about that,” said Casey. “Is everyone alright?”

  “Everyone but the goat,” giggled Sandy, as another bleat, bellowed from the back of the trailer.

  “It didn’t sound like your chickens fared any better,” countered Sam. “In fact they’re probably dead!”

  “What?” Sandy’s eyes began to fill with tears.

  “It’s okay,” said Shannon, gently wrapping her arm around her daughter and kissing her rosy cheek. “He’s just teasing you, aren’t you Sam?” She said, casting a stern glance in his direction.

  “Whatever,” Sam said, not wanting to cross his mother. “The only way
we’ll know for sure is if we go and check,” he added, shrugging his shoulders.

  “Can we mom? Please?” Sandy begged, as she tried to climb over her mother’s lap and open the door.

  “Wait!” Casey shouted, his tone more stern than he’d intended.

  “But what about my chickens?” Sandy asked, her hand frozen on the door handle.

  “They’ll be fine,” replied Casey, his eyes fixated on the body in the middle of the road. “I want everyone to stay here in the cab until I get back, and keep the doors locked. Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” said Shannon, understanding Casey’s concern.

  “Do you think it’s an ambush?” asked Sam, excited at the prospect.

  “I don’t know what to think,” admitted Casey, sliding a pistol into his pants and grabbing a shotgun from behind the seat. “Stay here while I go and find out.”

  “Can I come?” asked Sam.

  “No,” said Casey.

  “Why?”

  “Because it might be dangerous,” said Shannon.

  “Besides, I need you to stay here and protect your mom and sister. Can you do that for me?”

  “I guess so,” agreed Sam, wishing that he could go too. “But I’d rather go with you.”

  “No,” replied Casey, “and stop teasing your sister!” He then handed Sam a small .22 caliber Derringer and watched, as the boy’s face lit up with excitement. “It’s loaded and ready to fire,” he cautioned, before turning and climbing down from the cab. He locked the driver-side door and added, “Don’t open this door for anyone except me and if anyone tries to get in, shoot them.”

  “Okay,” said Sam, marveling at the small gun in his hand.

  “The keys are in the ignition and then engine is still running,” Casey added, looking directly at Shannon. “If anything happens to me don’t hesitate for a second, just get out of here as fast as you can.” He waited for Shannon to nod her head in agreement before closing the door behind him.

  Standing in the middle of the street with rain pouring down upon him, Casey chambered a round into the shotgun and pulled the collar of his coat tight around his neck. He glanced behind him and saw nothing but the red glow from the trucks tail lights. In front of him he could see the dark shadow from the stranger’s body, lying lifeless in the middle of the road.

  Casey glanced up and saw the faces of Shannon and her children gazing at him through the driver-side window. Shannon smiled down at him, lifting his heart and washing away any doubt. He was glad they were safe in the truck, just in case this was an ambush.

  Casey peered into the dark tree line on either side of the highway, before taking a step towards the stranger’s body, followed by another. Each step made an eerie sound, as he slowly walked forward, leaving the protection of his big-rig behind. His shadow cast an eerie image on the pavement in front of him, as he drew closer to the body. The steady downpour of rain and cracks of thunder drowned out the hum coming from his truck’s mighty engine.

  After taking a few more steps toward the edge of darkness, he realized he should have brought a flashlight. Gripping the shotgun tightly in both hands, he considered his options. He was about to turn around and return to the truck, when he remembered that the shotgun was equipped with a small flashlight attached to the barrel. Fumbling blindly in the darkness, Casey managed to find the small power switch and turned the flashlight on. A ray of white light immediately cut through the darkness, illuminating the body lying motionless in the road ahead.

  The stranger was only a few feet away, but despite the fact that the person’s back was to him, Casey could see that it was the body of a man. A low moan escaped from the man’s mouth, as Casey knelt down beside him. He rolled the man onto his back and noticed the front of his coat was covered in blood. The man had been shot through the stomach and chest several times. Based on the location and number of wounds, Casey was surprised the man was still breathing. He was about to turn and signal to Shannon for help, when he heard a noise.

  He slowly stood up and turned to face the wall of trees from which the noise had originated. He held his breath for a moment, peering into the ominous darkness, while straining to hear any sound besides the pitter patter of rain. Did he hear the noise again, or was it merely the distant rumble of thunder? He couldn’t be sure. He started forward hesitantly, mindfully taking each step.

  From inside the cab of the truck, Shannon, Sam and Sandy all watched with uncertainty, as Casey walked towards the forest, beyond the range of light. After taking a few steps he suddenly dropped from sight, disappearing as if the ground opened up and swallowed him whole. Shannon and her children gasped in horror.

  Shannon quickly settled into the driver’s seat and prepared for a fast getaway. Over the past few days, Casey had been diligent about teaching her how to operate the big-rig. She gripped the steering wheel, put the truck into first gear and froze. Shannon did not want to leave Casey. She had never met a man like him. He saved her whole family without expecting anything in return and now she was about to abandon him. Shannon took a deep breath, thought of her children and grabbed the release for the emergency brake. She was about to release the brake and step on the gas, when Sandy shouted, “Look!”

  Shannon peered into the darkness in the direction her daughter was looking and felt relief wash over her. Lying on his stomach, Casey groped around blindly, searching for the shotgun. He’d lost his grip on the weapon after tripping over something in the darkness. His hands and face were covered in mud, as he crawled to his knees. He looked at the ground behind him to see what had brought him down, but without the flashlight all he could see was a dark form on the side of the road.

  Casey quickly wiped the mud from his hands and face onto his pants and continued searching for the shotgun. After a few seconds of franticly rummaging through the puddles of water, his hand seized upon the cold metallic barrel. He pulled the gun free from the mud and pointed it in the direction of the noise he’d heard. If this was an ambush, this would be the perfect time.

  He climbed to his feet and waved at Shannon and the kids to let them know that he was alright. The flashlight attached to the gun had switched off when it fell to the ground and he now flipped the switch back on. He turned and shined the beam of light on the ground behind him, searching for the object that had caused him to lose his footing. When the light finally found its target, his mouth dropped open in shock. Lying on the ground in front of him was yet another body.

  Casey dropped to his knees beside the body and rolled the man onto his back. The man was covered in blood. He checked for vitals but found none. The man was dead. Casey slowly rose to his feet and began casting the beam from his flashlight back and forth, searching the ground for more bodies. After a few seconds he found another body, followed by another and yet another. They were all dead, all with the exception of the first man that he’d found in the middle of the road.

  He hurried back to the man and found him still breathing. He bent down and gently lifted the man’s head. The man opened his eyes and looked up into Casey’s. At first he seemed bewildered, as though he couldn’t remember what had happened to him.

  “Are you alright?” asked Casey, realizing how foolish the question must sound after it had already left his lips.

  The man opened his mouth and tried to say something, but no words were formed. He tried again and managed to make a gurgling sound, but still no words were spoken.

  “I’m going to get a stretcher so that we can move you out of the rain,” said Casey, trying to console the stranger. “I’ll be right back.” Casey started to stand, when the man reached out and grabbed his arm, shaking his head violently.

  “What is it?” asked Casey. “What’s wrong? Everything’s going to be okay. I’m just going to get some supplies from my truck so that I can…” His words trailed off, when he heard sounds of thrashing coming from the forest behind him.

  Casey peered into the darkness and could see dozens of small lights bobbing up and down as they
drew near. The sounds of twigs snapping and voices shouting filled the air. Casey considered calling out to the unknown voices, but hesitated when he realized they weren’t speaking English. He started to rise once again, only to find that the stranger’s hand still gripped his arm like a vice.

  “Someone’s out there,” whispered Casey, looking down at the man’s haggard face. “Maybe they can help?”

  The man shook his head again and pulled Casey’s face closer to his. His lips quivered, as his mouth once again struggled to speak. Only this time, Casey heard the faint whisper of a word.

  “What did you say?” he asked, bending down closer, his ear just inches from the man’s mouth.

  “Run!”

  “Run?” Casey repeated the word, as though he was uncertain if he’d heard it correctly. “Run from what?”

  Using all of his remaining strength, the stranger lifted his arm and pointed towards the forest and the bobbing lights beyond. “Run!” he said, repeating the word, as if it were the only one he knew. The man’s arm fell limp to the ground and his eyes rolled into the back of his head.

  Casey quickly felt for a pulse and was relieved to find one, regardless of how faint. The stranger wasn’t dead, at least not yet. He turned and peered into the forest behind him. The bobbing lights were getting closer and he could now differentiate between the numerous voices. They’d be on top of him in less than a minute.

  He glanced back at the truck and the innocent faces of Shannon and her children staring at him through the windshield. The last thing he wanted was to put them in danger, but he couldn’t bring himself to abandon the stranger, regardless of how little life remained. Casey waved at Shannon, signaling for her to drive the truck closer. He was afraid that moving the man would cause more damage to his wounds, but leaving him here was a certain death sentence.

  Shannon brought the truck to a stop a few feet from where Casey was kneeling beside the stranger and swung open the driver-side door. “Is he alive?” she asked, looking down at Casey and noticing the other bodies for the first time.