World War III

by Heath Jannusch

  “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

  “Alright. That brings me to the defense of Clearview. We need to begin fortifying the town and surrounding area. When this army arrives it’ll be a thousand times larger and more powerful than that rag-tag gang of Enlightened Ones. We must be ready to stop their advance! Does anyone here have any strategic military training?”

  “I graduated from West Point,” said Kye, raising his hand. “I’d love to help in any way I can.”

  “Who are you?” Asked Sullivan, having never met Kye.

  “Lt. Colonel Kye Williams sir, of the United States Air Force.”

  “I see,” said Mayor Sullivan. “Very good, you’re in charge of Clearview’s defense. Anyone who hasn’t been assigned a mission,” he added, raising his voice so everyone could hear, “consider yourself drafted into the town’s militia and report to Lt. Colonel Williams for your orders.”

  “Excuse me sir,” said Jesse, as people filtered from the room.

  “Yes,” replied Lt. Sawyer. “Can I help you?”

  “My name is Sergeant Morgan sir. I was stationed at Camp Pendleton when the invasion occurred.”

  “You’re a Marine?” The Lieutenant asked, critically examining the undersized sailing outfit Jesse wore.

  “Yes sir, reporting for duty. I was on the beach when the enemy landed.”

  “I thought we lost everyone on the beach. How did you survive?”

  “I was caught behind enemy lines sir, during the first wave of the invasion.”

  “Yet I see you had time to save your girlfriend,” said Lt. Sawyer, glancing from Jesse to Jillian.

  “Yes sir. I wasn’t about to leave her behind.”

  “Good,” stated the Lieutenant. “I don’t want a man in my command who’d abandon a woman to save his own skin.”

  “No sir.”

  “Are you ready for a mission soldier?”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Good, you’ll be coming with me to start an avalanche.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “But first you’ve got to get rid of those clothes. Corporal Thatcher!”

  “Yes sir!”

  “Get this man a uniform.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “With Sergeant Stripes,” added the Lieutenant.

  “Yes sir,” the corporal saluted, before scurrying off.

  “Thank you sir,” said Sgt. Morgan.

  “Of course,” replied Lt. Sawyer. “I need as many battle hardened men as I can get. Now haul off and kiss your woman Sergeant. We’re leaving within the hour.”

  “Yes sir!” Jesse spun around and pulled Jillian into his arms.

  “But can’t you just tell one of the older men where to find the cannon and how to fire it?” Dakota suggested, standing with Billy in the corner of the room. “Please don’t go Billy! I need you here with me.”

  Billy blushed, he wasn’t used to receiving this kind of attention, especially in front of men he looked up to. He stared down at his feet, unsure of what to say. He wanted to tell her he’d take care of her and everything was going to be alright, but he didn’t feel comfortable saying the words in front of others. He was about to respond, when Cole stepped forward and saved him the trouble.

  “Don’t worry Dakota,” said Cole, placing his arm around Billy’s shoulder, “I’ll go with the little dude and take care of him.”

  The humiliation Billy hoped to avoid suddenly washed over him and his face turned red.

  “I don’t need a chaperone,” he declared, shrugging his cousin’s arm off of his shoulder. Even though he was relieved Cole was coming, he was tired of being treated like a boy.

  “Excuse me,” said Mayor Sullivan, approaching the fireplace where Mason and Cleo sat quietly, staring into the flames. “I was wondering if the two of you would help Lt. Colonel Williams with the town’s defense.”

  “We have other plans,” stated Cleo, standing up and walking into the inner cell room.

  “I didn’t mean to offend,” said the Mayor, his gaze following Cleo.

  “No offense taken,” stated Mason.

  “We could use your expertise,” insisted the Mayor.

  “So could she,” replied Mason, nodding his head toward Cleo.

  “My understanding is you intend to torture the prisoners for information, is that correct?”

  “Just one of them,” corrected Mason, poking the fire with a stick.

  “And you believe that’s the best use of your time?”

  “I’ll spend my time as I see fit,” said Mason. “I care about Cleo and she cares about Lex. That prisoner knows something and we intend to find out what.”

  “But I don’t think you should torture the prisoner, especially…”

  “Mr. Mayor Sir, I don’t mean to be disrespectful, but I don’t give a damn what you think. I’ll extract every piece of information I can from that man and we will find Lex. I advise you not to stand in my way.”

  “I suppose every man has to blaze his own path,” said the Mayor.

  Mason didn’t respond. He simply stood up and followed Cleo into the other room, tool case in hand.

  “Before we disperse,” said Ian, clearing his throat, “I have an announcement to make. Go ahead,” he added, placing his hand on Jessie’s back and nudging her forward.

  “Well,” she smiled, glancing nervously around the room, “Ian asked me to marry him, and of course I said yes!”

  “Congratulations!” Shiloh grabbed his best friend’s hand and shook it, before giving Jessie a hug.

  “Good for you,” smiled Lt. Sawyer.

  “Dude, that’s awesome,” added Cole, rolling one of his cigarettes.

  “Have you set a date yet?” asked Jillian.

  “No, not yet,” answered Jessie.

  “It’s kind of difficult,” added Ian, “what with the war and all.”

  “Well, whenever you guys are ready I’d be honored to have your ceremony at my place,” offered Shiloh.

  “Thanks,” said Ian. “What do you think baby?”

  “I think it’s a wonderful idea,” cheered Jessie. “Thank you!”

  “My pleasure,” smiled Shiloh. “Sheila would’ve loved for your wedding to be the first. I only wish she could be here to see it.”

  “I’m sure she will be,” said Rupert. “She’ll have the best seat in the house,” he added, pointing to the heavens above.

  “That’s right,” agreed Shiloh.

  “Will you stop by my house after?” Whispered Dakota, taking Billy’s hand in hers.

  “Um, yeah, sure I will,” said Billy, blushing once again.

  “Thanks.” Dakota stood on her tippy-toes and kissed Billy on the lips. Her lips felt soft and moist against his, and tasted like watermelon. “Be careful Billy Higgins,” she whispered. Without waiting for a response she turned and left, leaving Billy standing alone and longing for another kiss.

  “She’s quite a young lady,” replied Sampson, when Dakota was gone. “She’ll make a good wife one day, if you can tame her,” he added, with a wink.

  “Oh yeah,” said Billy, glancing at the older man. “Have you ever been married Mr. Sampson?”

  “Nah,” chuckled Sampson, as he poured himself another cup of coffee.

  “What about love, have you ever been in love?”

  “Once,” replied the old man, thinking back to a distant time. “In my younger days I worked as a cowhand. That year was the hottest summer on record and I was driving a herd of cattle across the panhandle in Texas. I rode passed this small farm, oh around sundown maybe, and saw a young woman out in the fields. She was down in the dirt, working on her hands and knees. I stopped and watched, as she stood up to stretch her back. She was wearing a little white cotton dress and the setting sun was right behind her, showing the shape that God had given her.”

  “What happened?” Billy asked, full of intrigue.

  “Nothing,” replied Sampson, taking a sip of coffee. “I just turned around and rode away.”

  “Bu
t why?”

  “I figured it wasn’t gonna get any better than that.”

  “Yeah but, you could’ve been with her,” said Billy.

  “I’ve been with a lot of women,” replied Sampson, wrapping his hands around the cup of coffee.

  “Yeah, but she could have been, ya know, the love of your life,” exclaimed Billy.

  “She is,” stated Sampson.

  “Wow,” said Billy. “You passed up something that could’ve been terrific.”

  “My choice,” said Sampson.

  “I never could’ve done it,” admitted Billy.

  “And that’s your choice,” grinned Sampson. “Do you know what the secret to life is son?”

  “No, what?” asked Billy.

  “One thing,” said the old man, holding up his finger, “just one thing. You stick to that one thing, and everything else in life don’t mean shit.”

  “Well that’s great,” smiled Billy, “but what’s the one thing?”

  “Well that’s what you’ve gotta figure out,” smiled Sampson. “It’s different for every man.”

  “What’s your one thing?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” replied Sampson, gulping down the remainder of his coffee. “Knowing mine won’t help you find yours. Come on son,” he added, patting Billy on the back, “let’s go and get ready.”

  Billy noticed Rupert walk into the inner cell room with a small stack of bibles in hand. “Do you think any of them will convert?” He asked, as they left the jailhouse.

  “Doubtful,” scoffed Sampson. “Those savages won’t believe until we send them to meet their creator face to face.”

  “But then it’d be too late,” said Billy. “Rupert says they must accept Christ’s salvation, before they can enter heaven and be with God.”

  “I can’t argue with that,” said Sampson. “But I’d like to see how he plans on breaking through years of propaganda and brain washing. Those men are so indoctrinated in their beliefs, they wouldn’t know the truth if it jumped up and bit them. If you ask me he’s fighting an unwinnable battle, but then again, that’s his choice.”

  Avalanche

  World War III – Day Twenty-One

  Clearview, Nevada

  Lt. Sawyer, Sgt. Morgan and Corp. Thatcher, stepped outside the jailhouse an hour before sunrise, each man carrying a supply pack and rifle. A flurry of snow drifted down Main Street, leaving a thin layer of powder on the ground. A storm was blowing down from the mountains and the men were bundled in heavy coats, wearing wool hats and warm gloves.

  “Is everyone ready?” Asked Lieutenant Sawyer, as old man Sampson and the Higgins cousins joined them.

  Cole and Billy nodded, stamping their feet and rubbing their hands together to keep warm.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” grumbled Sampson. The older he got, the less his joints liked the cold. Although he’d prefer to be home sitting in front of a crackling fire, he was never one to miss a fight.

  “Good,” said the Lieutenant, “let’s get going before this storm gets any worse.”

  A shrill scream came from inside the jailhouse. “What was that?” Billy asked, glancing nervously at Cole.

  “It’s just Mason and Cleo,” replied Lt. Sawyer. “They’ve been working on that Russian Lieutenant all night long. Come on, let’s go.”

  The men piled into a Military Humvee and headed west, into the blizzard. The drive to Spooner Summit would normally have taken an hour, but due to the storm, the sun was high in the sky when they arrived.

  Corp. Thatcher pulled to a stop at Summit Station and Lt. Sawyer climbed out of the Humvee to look around. He pulled the collar of his coat tight around his neck, trying to protect his skin from the howling wind. The snowfall was letting up and the storm seemed to be passing, but the temperature was still well below zero.

  “Are you sure this is the place kid?”

  “Yeah,” said Billy, emerging from the Humvee. “It’s in there,” he added, pointing at a small shed.

  “Alright, let’s go!”

  Cole and Sampson climbed out of the Humvee and followed Billy and the Lieutenant toward the shed.

  “Pull the vehicle out of sight and keep watch,” ordered Sgt. Morgan, before following the others.

  “Yes sir,” replied Corporal Thatcher.

  “I don’t have a key,” said Billy, when they found a frozen padlock securing the door.

  “I do.” Lt. Sawyer swung the butt of his rifle down on the handle, breaking the metal lock in two. He kicked open the door and peered into the darkness.

  “There it is,” said Billy, pointing at an old cannon near the back of the shed.

  “What a beauty,” smiled old man Sampson, running his hand along the cannon’s barrel, as if it were a long lost friend.

  “Get it out and set it up,” ordered the Lieutenant.

  Sgt. Morgan, Billy, Cole and Sampson lifted the gun as one and carried it from the shed. They positioned the cannon facing the opposite side of the mountain and were turning to fetch the shells, when they heard a low rumbling sound approaching from the west.

  “What’s that noise?” Asked Lt. Sawyer, peering down the mountain.

  “They’re coming!” Shouted Corporal Thatcher, as he ran up the road, waving his arms.

  A few seconds later a tank appeared around a bend in the road, followed by another, and another. The men from Clearview watched, as a long column of military vehicles snaked its way up the mountain, headed straight for them.

  “Hurry!” Shouted Lt. Sawyer. “We’ve got to blow it before they make it through the pass!”

  Billy and Cole ran for the utility shed, where the cannon shells were stored. “Which box is it?” Asked Cole, frantically tearing open one box after another.

  “I don’t remember,” admitted Billy. “It’s been a long time.”

  “Found it!” Shouted Cole, after ripping open another box. The shells were heavy and it took both men to carry them.

  Sampson grabbed a shell from the box before the cousins could set it down and quickly loaded it into the cannon. He took careful aim at a large shelf of ice on the opposite side of the mountain and was about to fire, when Jesse stopped him.

  “Wait!” Shouted Sgt. Morgan, watching the column of vehicles slowly approaching.

  “What is it Sergeant?” Asked Lt. Sawyer. “We haven’t much time.”

  “Let’s think about this for a second,” replied Jesse. “Why cause the avalanche before the column enters the pass? If we wait a few minutes we can bring the whole damn thing down on top of them? Two birds with one stone.”

  “That’s true,” agreed Sampson. “It’ll take them a hell of a lot longer to recover and eliminate some of their forces all at the same time.”

  “All right,” agreed the Lieutenant. “Hold your fire until I give the order.”

  “Roger that,” said Sampson, watching the enemy slowly approach.

  “A lot of them won’t survive,” pointed out Cole.

  “Good,” said Sgt. Morgan, remembering the day of the invasion and a beach littered with the bodies of men from his command. “The more we kill today, the less we’ll fight tomorrow.”

  “True,” agreed Sampson, “but the more we can injure the better. A dead soldier removes one man from the battle, but wounded soldiers require care, thereby removing other men.”

  “Being crushed by all that ice and snow is a horrible way to die,” mumbled Cole.

  “They should’ve thought of that before invading our home and killing our countrymen,” stated Lt. Sawyer. “Steady,” he said, raising his hand into the air, “steady,” he repeated, watching as the convoy drew closer and closer. “Fire!” he shouted, dropping his hand.

  Sampson fired the cannon and a thunderous boom echoed down the mountain. The shrill whistle of the artillery shell could be heard for miles, as it soared over the convoy, exploding on the opposite side of the pass. At first nothing happened, but then the ice slowly and surely began to crack, and break apart.

&n
bsp; Hearing the whistle and explosion brought the enemy convoy to a stop. An officer climbed down from one of the jeeps and walked to the head of the column, trying to figure out where the shot had come from. He was standing in front of the lead tank, staring at the road ahead, when a thick sheet of ice suddenly broke free and began sliding down the mountain.

  The officer turned and screamed, as he climbed onto the lead tank. Soldiers frantically scrambled around searching for cover, but there was none to be found. Many of them hid inside, or under their vehicles, while others fled on foot. The lead tank lurched forward, trying to race through the pass, before being buried alive. Some soldiers began to climb the opposite side of the mountain, hoping to avoid the deadly shards of ice headed their way.

  All of their attempts were in vein.

  The ground shook violently, as tons of jagged ice, crashed down the slippery slope and covered the convoy. The lead tank was swept off the road and tumbled to the canyon below. Several armored vehicles rolled onto their sides and disappeared beneath chunks of ice, while others were tossed around like toy cars. Soldiers were washed away and buried alive under the heavy snow, their screams muffled by the thunderous roar.

  “Wow dude,” said Cole, “that was intense.”

  “Do ya think there are any survivors?” Billy asked, staring wide-eyed, at where the road had been only moments ago. Every soldier and vehicle had completely disappeared, buried beneath the snow and ice.

  “Doubtful,” said Lt. Sawyer, examining the pile of snow, dotted with boulders and uprooted pine trees. “I don’t see any movement.”

  “Their dead,” replied Sampson, “and if not they’ll soon wish they were.”

  “We should get going,” said Lt. Sawyer. “It won’t be long before they send out search parties.”

  “Not to mention there could already be another convoy headed up Kingsbury Grade,” added Sgt. Morgan.

  Corporal Thatcher backed the Humvee up to the cannon and with help from Sgt. Morgan, hooked the piece of artillery to the trailer hitch. The men piled into the vehicle and headed south.

  It took a couple of hours to reach Kingsbury Grade and another, before arriving at the summit. Pulling to a stop, they quickly dismounted and deployed the heavy gun, targeting another tall mountain peak covered in frozen snow.