World War III

by Heath Jannusch

  Billy turned the leather bound book over in his hands, handling it as though it would disintegrate if he wasn’t careful. “Thanks,” he said, staring down at it, as if it held all of the answers to life. He read the title of the book out loud, “A Savage Romance. Is this a romance novel?” He asked, his voice laced with disappointment.

  “Oh yes,” said Dakota, full of excitement. “It’s the first of a three part series, but don’t worry, I have books two and three as well.”

  “Oh good,” said Billy, less than enthusiastic. He enjoyed reading, but romance novels had never really been his thing. “Thanks.”

  “You do like to read, don’t you?” asked Dakota, noticing his hesitation.

  “I love to read,” confessed Billy. “I could read all day!”

  “Well then,” said Dakota, smiling, “since I can’t pay you for chopping the firewood, perhaps you’d accept a free library card to my father’s study? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

  “You don’t owe me anything,” said Billy.

  “I know, but I’d like you to come,” insisted Dakota, as they left the study and closed the door behind them.

  “Well, alright,” agreed Billy. “Thanks.”

  “It’s my pleasure! This door,” she added, placing her hand on a large wooden door, “leads to the basement.”

  “What’s down there?” asked Billy, noticing the French tip manicure on Dakota’s fingernails.

  “There’s a movie theatre, game room, laundry room and a bar,” she said. “We usually use it when entertaining guests. Come on,” she added, taking Billy’s hand in hers, “I’ll show you upstairs.”

  Dakota didn’t realize she was holding Billy’s hand until they’d reached the top of the stairs, and feeling a little embarrassed, she quickly let go. Billy noticed, but said nothing.

  “Most of the bedrooms are located on this floor,” she explained, as they walked down the hall together.

  “How many bedrooms are there?” asked Billy, shocked by the pure size of the house. Never in his life had he been in a house so large and lavishly furnished.

  “Twelve,” answered Dakota, “eight on this floor and four more upstairs. Ya wanna see my room?”

  “Sure,” said Billy, gazing at an original Van Gogh painting hanging in the hall.

  Dakota led Billy to her bedroom and was suddenly embarrassed when she realized that she hadn’t cleaned it in weeks. There were clothes scattered everywhere, but what was most embarrassing were the bras and panties that she’d left lying about. It was now her turn to blush.

  Billy saw her face turn several shades of red, but pretended not to notice. “Nice room,” he said, looking around.

  “Thanks,” smiled Dakota, as she franticly gathered up some of the clothing, including all of her panties and bras. She carried the pile of clothes to her closet and dumped them on the floor inside.

  “You missed one,” teased Billy, holding up a white bra that had been hanging on the back of the doorknob.

  “Oh,” gasped Dakota, snatching the bra from Billy’s outstretched hand. “Thanks. Sorry about the mess.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said, with a smile. “No matter what, it’s cleaner and nicer than my room.”

  “I, I normally keep my room clean,” explained Dakota. “But not so much lately. I guess it’s because I haven’t had any company for such a long time.”

  “Forget it,” grinned Billy. “You’ve got a nice place here.”

  “Thanks,” smiled Dakota. “How’s the hot chocolate?”

  “It’s delicious, thank you! I haven’t had any in a really long time. Speaking of which, how are you doing on food and supplies?”

  “I’ve got plenty of water. My dad had a well with a manual pump installed a few years ago. As for food, I’m getting a little low. I guess maybe I shouldn’t have thrown those parties after the Vanishing,” she added, her gaze avoiding Billy’s. “If I hadn’t, I’d have plenty of food still.”

  “Are you warm enough?”

  “For the most part,” answered Dakota. “I keep the fires going all day.”

  “Yeah I see that,” said Billy, disapprovingly. “Your firewood would last a lot longer if you’d only burn a fire in the room you’re occupying.”

  “But it’s so cold downstairs when I don’t leave the fire in the family room burning all night.”

  “So start a new fire when you wake up. You’re not just wasting the logs,” pointed out Billy, “it’s also a fire hazard. A spark from the downstairs fireplace could land on a rug or something and start a fire. The whole house could go up in flames and all while you’re sleeping upstairs.”

  “I’ll take it under advisement,” said Dakota. She wasn’t accustomed to being told what to do, and she didn’t like it very much. Even her parents had always let her make her own decisions.

  “Another thing,” continued Billy, “I noticed that you leave all of the bedroom doors open.”

  “Yeah, so what?” asked Dakota, growing irritated. Who was this guy to come into her home and start criticizing her lifestyle?

  “So,” said Billy, “your heating rooms that you’re not even using. You need to close the doors and vents to all of the extra rooms that aren’t being used.”

  “Who are you to tell me how to live,” hissed Dakota. “Just because you’re the guy chopping the firewood, doesn’t give you the right to tell me how to use it!”

  “That’s not what I meant,” said Billy. “I’m just trying to help.”

  “Well I don’t need your help Billy Higgins! Why don’t you save your advice for someone who actually cares?”

  “I knew this was a mistake,” he said, setting his cup of hot chocolate down on the dresser. “I never should have come inside.”

  “No you shouldn’t have,” shouted Dakota. “At least not until you’ve learned some manners!”

  “I’ll show myself out,” said Billy, as he turned and left the room.

  Dakota stood there trembling with fury until she heard the back door slam shut. She then turned, ran to her window and looked out. She watched Billy as he stormed across the yard, creating a new set of tracks in the snow. He’d left in such a hurry, that he didn’t even bother to take his axe with him. She watched until he was out of sight, wondering if he’d turn to look back, but he never did. Once he’d disappeared into the forest, Dakota turned away from the window and began crying uncontrollably. Billy had been her first and only guest in weeks, and she’d scared him off. Now who would chop her firewood?

  Billy headed straight home, fuming with anger. As he marched through the forest, he replayed their conversation over and over again in his head.

  How dare she accuse him of being without manners! Nobody else had even offered to help her, and why? Because she’s a spoiled little brat, born with a silver spoon in her mouth, that’s why!

  He thought of all of the things he wished he’d said, but realized it was probably better that he hadn’t allowed his anger to get the best of him, saying something that couldn’t be taken back.

  When Billy arrived home he found his cousin in the back yard, harvesting his most recent crop. Cole was about ten years older than Billy and almost always in a good mood, a quality that had failed to rub off on Billy. Perhaps it was because he’d lived a harder life, or maybe it just wasn’t in Billy’s nature. Although the house belonged to Cole, it was Billy who took care of the upkeep. Cole spent most of his time in the greenhouse, cultivating his various crops.

  Billy entered the greenhouse looking for Cole, not because he wanted to talk to him about what had happened with Dakota, but because just being around his jovial cousin cheered him up and made him feel better.

  When Cole heard the glass door open and close, he glanced up at Billy and smiled. “What’s up dude?” he asked, before returning his attention to the plant in front of him.

  “Not much,” mumbled Billy, sitting down on a nearby stool. He enjoyed watching Cole, as he tenderly cared for his plants. Billy had seen mothe
rs give less love to their own children, his parents being prime examples.

  “I thought you were going over to the Jennings’ place to cut firewood?”

  “Yeah, I did,” answered Billy, the bitter memory still fresh on his mind.

  “You’re back a little sooner than usual, aren’t ya? Did something happen?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t wanna to talk about it,” answered Billy. One of the many things that Billy liked about his older cousin was that he never pushed. If Billy said he wanted to be left alone, then Cole left him alone. Even Billy’s mother had been more invasive of his privacy. “Ya need any help?”

  “Sure bro, I was about to go into town and pick up some fertilizer, ya wanna come?”

  “Okay,” agreed Billy, anxious for any type of distraction. He wanted to get his mind off of Dakota and the hurtful things that she’d said.

  Walking down Main Street they noticed a large group of strangers gathered in front of the Daisy Mart. “Who are they?” asked Billy.

  “More refugees,” answered Cole. “Major Conrad and his convoy of Marines brought them here from California. It looks like there might be a food shortage.”

  “Oh,” mumbled Billy, thinking of Dakota and her dwindling amount of supplies.

  “Come on dude,” smiled Cole, “what’s the matter? You’re more serious than usual. Did something happen out at the Jennings’ place? Did that girl finally talk to you? What’s her name again?”

  “Dakota,” answered Billy, staring at the ground as they walked along.

  “Yeah,” smiled Cole, “Dakota. Did she say something to upset you?”

  “Nothing that matters,” mumbled Billy.

  “Don’t let her get ya down little buddy,” said Cole, wrapping his arm around his younger cousin. “She’s just a spoiled and confused little girl. It may appear that she has a lot, but it just appears that way. In reality she’s lacking.”

  “I think she’s scared,” replied Billy.

  “She should be,” agreed Cole. “She’s lived a pampered life under the protection of her parents and that lifestyle has come to an abrupt end. Unlike you, she’s never been on her own. The smallest, most simply thing for you and I, might seem daunting for her. Just because you’re close in age, doesn’t mean you’re close in maturity.”

  “She’s not that bad,” said Billy, thinking back to how she’d offered him hot chocolate and kissed his cheek. He remembered how she’d blushed when he saw her underwear scattered around her bedroom. “She’s just sad and lonely.”

  “Well bro, if she’s lonely you’d think she’d treat her guests a little nicer,” pointed out Cole.

  “She’s not that bad,” repeated Billy.

  “No, I guess not,” smiled Cole. “Not if you’re willing to defend her after she hurt your feelings.”

  “What makes you think she hurt my feelings?”

  “Are you kidding bro? You wear your emotions like a badge of honor.”

  “She doesn’t know any better,” said Billy. “Everything’s been given to her on a silver platter.”

  “Well dude, perhaps she should learn to treat people better. The days of having everything given to her on a silver platter are over, and they aren’t coming back. She needs to learn how to take care of herself.”

  “She needs someone to teach her,” replied Billy.

  “And let me guess little dude,” grinned Cole, “you’re the one who’s gonna teach her?”

  “I don’t know what I’m gonna do yet,” admitted Billy.

  “I’ll save you the suspense,” teased Cole. “You’ll be back there chopping wood again within the week.”

  “I don’t think she has enough wood to last the week,” said Billy, remembering the numerous fires burning throughout the mansion.

  “See,” laughed Cole, “you’re already considering it!”

  “No I’m not,” argued Billy.

  “So where’s your axe then?”

  “I must have left it at her house.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know,” mumbled Billy.

  “I do,” sneered Cole. “It’s for one of two reasons.”

  “Enlighten me,” said Billy.

  “Either you intend to go back for it, or you didn’t want her to be alone without the ability to chop her own firewood. In which case you’ll go back anyway, just to make sure she’s alright and knows how to use the axe. I know you dude,” laughed Cole. “We’re not that different you and I.”

  “Maybe your right,” agreed Billy. Somehow his cousin always had a way of pointing out the obvious, in a way that didn’t make Billy feel like he was being interrogated. Cole was right, and Billy knew it. There was no way that he could just abandon Dakota, as her friends had done. Billy knew the bitter reality of abandonment and wouldn’t wish it upon anyone, let alone a girl as pretty and innocent as Dakota.

  When they reached the Daisy Mart a brawl had just broken out between two of the refugees. The two men were fighting over the last stick of deodorant and it wasn’t even a man’s deodorant, it was made for a woman. Both men appeared dirty and unkempt. One man was tall and lean, while the other was short and stocky. Both had dark brown hair with light brown eyes and olive toned skin. Dark, curly chest hair protruded from their shirts and aside from their difference in height and size, they looked remarkably similar.

  “I had it first,” shouted the shorter man, as they wrestled on the ground, fighting for the stick of deodorant.

  “I saw it first!” screamed the taller one.

  “Let go,” hissed the short one.

  “No! You let go!”

  “Both of you let go,” said Ian, standing above the men with a shotgun cradled in his arms. The two men stared up at Ian’s stern face and the twin barreled shotgun, which he carried as though it were an extension of his body. They immediately let go of the stick of deodorant and scrambled to their feet. “We don’t tolerate trouble makers around here,” continued Ian. “What are your names?”

  “I’m Richie DeLuca,” exclaimed the taller of the two men.

  “And I’m Lenny DeLuca,” said the shorter man.

  “Sounds like an Italian name,” observed Ian. “Are you two related?”

  “We’d better be,” smiled Lenny, “either that or our mother has some explaining to do.”

  “We’re brothers,” explained Richie, “and yes we’re Italian.”

  “You fight like your enemies,” observed Ian, “and for what, a stick of women’s deodorant?”

  “Hey,” exclaimed Lenny, “the label says it’s strong enough for a man.”

  “All the more reason why I should get it,” teased Richie. “You’re not a man yet,” he added, looking down at his shorter brother, “you still have more growing to do!” He held out the palm of his hand above his younger brother’s head, displaying how short he was in comparison to himself.

  Lenny didn’t respond. He simply punched his older brother in the mouth, splitting his lip.

  “Ouch!” Richie shouted, gently wiping blood from his lip. “That was uncalled for!”

  “Alright, cut it out,” said Ian, stepping between the two men. “You sure don’t act like brothers, or maybe you do,” he added, after a moment of reflection. “The way you’re carrying on, you’re gonna need more than deodorant when you’re finished. If you can’t share the deodorant, than neither of you get it.”

  “See what you did!” Exclaimed Richie, his hand still held to his bleeding lip.

  “Me? It’s your fault, you ugly…” Lenny stopped midsentence, gazing passed his brother at Jessie. “Never mind, you can have it,” he said, walking around Richie towards Jessie. “How do you do ma’am,” he said, bowing slightly. “My name is Lenny DeLuca, and I’m in love.”

  “Nice to meet you Lenny,” giggled Jessie. “My name is Jessica Hunt, and I’m in love too, but not with you.”

  “You see,” said Richie, pushing his younger brother aside, “she wants a real man, someone who can help her reach the top sh
elf of the cupboard.”

  “Actually,” said Jessie, “I’ve already got a real man. In fact, you’ve already met him,” she nodded towards Ian standing behind the two brothers, the shotgun still cradled in his arms. The stern look on his face had changed to amusement.

  The clicking sound from shotgun’s hammers being drawn back caused both of the brothers to freeze in anticipation. They turned back around to face Ian, a little less cocky than before. “I’ve had just about enough of you two,” said Ian. “I was gonna let the deodorant thing slide, but now you’re getting on my nerves.”

  Lenny looked at the shotgun in Ian’s hands and swallowed. “You’re not gonna let him get away with hitting on your woman are you?” he asked, nodding toward his brother Richie.

  “And what a woman,” whistled Richie, as he appraised Jessie’s body from head to toe.

  “Alright, that’s it,” said Ian, lifting the shotgun. “You two are coming with me. Maybe a night in jail will teach you some manners. Move it!” Using his shotgun, Ian herded the brothers toward the door.

  “Well,” laughed Lenny, looking up at Richie, “at least we’ve got a place to sleep tonight.”

  “Do you need any help?” asked Lt. Colonel Kye Williams, who was standing amongst the crowd of spectators.

  “No I think I can handle these two,” replied Ian, “but thanks. How’s your leg? Has the doctor been taking good care of you?”

  “Yes,” smiled Kye, leaning on the crutch Dr. July had given him for his sprained ankle. “I’m just excited to get off of this thing and back into the fight.”

  “I can understand that,” said Ian. “Lord knows we can use you.”

  “Please let me know if there’s anything I can assist with. I hate feeling so helpless and useless.”

  “Of course,” agreed Ian. “I suppose you could help out with guard duty, if you feel up to it?”

  “I’d be happy to,” smiled Kye. “It’ll give me something to do.”

  “Alright then,” agreed Ian, “come with me and I’ll show you the way.”

  Lost at Sea

  World War III – Day Seventeen