Ameristocracy

by Paul Moxham

  Arriving at the main lodge, Jack grabs the doorknob and tries to open the door. No good. “Locked...”

  Blam! Blam! Bullets hit the wall around them, so Jack, Charles, and Wilcox duck for cover.

  Clank! They look up to see the doorknob and lock falling off the door. It’s been shot off. They turn toward the tree line where Angel winks at them, smoke billowing up from her gun barrel. It was her shot that opened the door for them.

  Jack, Charles, and Wilcox nod their appreciation to their fellow soldier. “Impressive,” says Jack.

  “Hell yeah,” replies Charles.

  They bolt to their feet and push through the door. Jack and Charles charge in first, guns drawn.

  They find Vice President Hawkins holed up inside. There are two dead Secret Service agents on the floor and Hawkins is holding one of their guns. “Thank God you’re here. I’ve been pinned down…”

  “Drop the gun,” yells Jack.

  Hawkins looks surprised to see Jack aiming his piece at him. “What are you doing? Can’t you see there’s a firefight going on out there?”

  Jack nods. “And you’re responsible.”

  Hawkins looks surprised. “Me?”

  “No one stands to gain from the president’s death more than you,” argues Jack.

  Hawkins shakes his head, turns to Charles. “Agent Long, tell him I’m one of the good guys.”

  Charles stares into Hawkins eyes, as though trying to read the man’s soul. Finally, he reaches over, places his palm on the barrel of Jack’s gun and lowers it. “He’s right. Besides, why would he just be standing here if he was after the president?”

  Jack’s still suspicious. “Maybe the president is already dead.”

  Hawkins shakes his head. “No. Phelps took him.”

  “Where?” asks Jack.

  “I don’t know,” explained Hawkins. “He came barging in with two men…”

  “Secret Service?” interrupts in Charles.

  “No. Paramilitary. They shot these two agents and took President Lombard out of here. When I tried to follow, I started taking heat from outside. They’ve got this entire place surrounded.”

  Jack slowly nods. “Okay. Let’s move.”

  Charles moves to the window and peers out. He sees the firefight continuing outside. He signals to Mendez who is by the tree line.

  Mendez sees the signal and turns to Luke. “You! Come with me...” Then, to the others. “Cover us.”

  Keith and Angel step forward and start offering cover fire as Mendez and Luke sprint toward the main lodge.

  They arrive at the front door just as Jack and Charles rush out, with Hawkins right behind them.

  Jack’s eyes are drawn to the helicopter wreckage. Doesn’t see Maggie anywhere.

  “She’ll be…” says Charles.

  “I know!” yells Jack.

  Suddenly, the gunfire picks up. Blam! Blam! Blam! It tears up the earth in front of them, stripping away the paint on the building behind them.

  No time to wait, they rush into action, following Jack’s lead toward the presidential cabin. This time, Jack wastes no time in firing a shot at the doorknob. The door flies open and the group rushes inside.

  They immediately come under gunfire. Blam! Blam! Blam!

  They dive for cover and return fire, the room quickly awash in gunfire and smoke. Everyone seems pinned down as the bullets spray across the room relentlessly. It’s like a stalemate, bullets flying everywhere but no one seeming to win.

  Until Jack steps it up a notch. He rises from the corner where he has been crouching down and sprints across the room. He fires non stop as he does so, taking out one gunman after another by sheer will and determination and the willingness to step into the line of fire to win out.

  And as the bodies drop, the gunfire comes to an end. Jack stands in the middle of the room, smoking gun in hand, while those around him watch in awe.

  Hawkins’ eyes bulge in amazement and he shoots a look over at Charles. “Did you know he could do that?”

  “I don’t even think he did. Okay, well maybe he did...”

  Jack turns and starts searching the lodge. Soon, the others are following along.

  “What the hell’s going on anyway?” asks Hawkins.

  “We believe there’s a bomb planted here somewhere,” answers Charles.

  “A terrorist attack?”

  Smash! Before Charles can reply, the window behind them shatters and a grenade comes flying in. Clunk! Clunk! Clunk! It tumbles across the floor.

  Charles dives on top of Hawkins while Mendez dives on top of the grenade... Boom! It explodes, taking Mendez along with it.

  Jack and Wilcox look up, surprised to be alive. Ten feet away, Charles climbs off the Vice President, both men having survived.

  Charles swallows hard as he thinks of the fallen agent. “Agent Mendez...”

  Hawkins slowly nods. “He was a good agent. Did his job till the bitter end.”

  Suddenly, a clanking noise catches their attention. They quickly follow the sound into bedroom.

  Luke charges toward the window, ready to give cover fire, as Hawkins searches the room. He throws open the closet door and finds nothing but suits. He’s about to say something when Jack steps in front of him, finger pressed to his lips to silence him. Hawkins nods his willingness to stand mute while Jack and Charles move toward the bathroom.

  The door flies open and Jack and Charles rush in, guns drawn. The room appears to be empty. But Jack notices something askew. The porcelain top on the toilet tank is missing. He nods toward it and Charles sees the same thing. They furrow their brow, neither sure what to think.

  Suddenly, Lombard charges out of the shower, swinging the porcelain piece! “Aaaagggghhh!!” He wields the white porcelain tank lid mightily, having no idea who he’s swinging on.

  Jack ducks just in time and the lid goes smashing into the sink mirror, shattering it. All eyes and guns turn on the president, who balls his fists, ready to battle some more.

  “Mr. President, wait!” yells Hawkins.

  Lombard glances around and sees Hawkins and Luke stepping into the room behind Jack and Charles. “I better get an explanation and fast.”

  Hawkins motions to the others. “These men are on our side. How’d you get free?”

  “Two good agents lost their lives to save me. They opened fire, but Phelps escaped into the woods. Fortunately, I was able to make a break for it.”

  Luke is confused. “I don’t understand. They’ve had access all along. Why would they wait so long?”

  “Well,” speaks up Hawkins. “Phelps just approached me about the Renewed Society. I told him I stood with the President, but he knew the Speaker of the House would oppose it. He must have decided to wait until he could get us both in one shot.”

  Lombard nods. “When his little plan got interrupted, I figured this was the best place to hide, but when I heard gunshots out there I knew I was going to have to get into the fight. But I didn’t expect you to charge in like that. I expected... him!”

  All eyes turn to see a masked gunman charging into the bathroom, gun trained on Lombard’s head. Through the slits in the masked gunman’s ski mask, his eyes dart about, seeing the armed men in the room, knowing he’s outnumbered. But he does have the president in his sights. “Back out right now. Back away or the president dies.”

  Jack points his gun directly at the masked gunman.

  “What are you doing?” explodes Hawkins, looking at Jack.

  Jack moves in on the masked gunman, pressing the barrel of his own weapon against the man’s head.

  “You’re putting the president at risk!” yells Charles.

  Jack shakes his head. “No. The president’s already dead.” He turns to the masked gunman. “Right? If we don’t walk away, the president’s dead. Right? But if we do walk away, he’s dead too. So... that being the case, we don’t have much of an incentive to back away, now do we?”

  The masked gunman swallows hard, knowing his bluff�
��s been called. He and Jack glare at each other for what seems an eternity before the masked gunman makes his move.

  He spins his gun around, off the president and toward Jack... Blam! He fires. The bullet hits Jack in the shoulder, spinning him around, knocking him back against the door. He slumps to the ground, bleeding.

  Blam! One shot from Charles drops the masked gunman. He then turns to Jack, who is pushing himself back up from the floor. “He got you.”

  “But he didn’t get the president,” replies Jack, proud.

  Wilcox inspects Jack’s shoulder wound. It’s bleeding but it’s probably not lethal. “Just a scratch. You’re gonna make it.”

  “Thanks, Doc,” grimly smiles Jack, looking at him.

  Crash! A bullet tears through the window and rips through Luke, killing him instantly.

  Jaws drop. Everyone stands in shock until Hawkins yells out. “C’mon!” He heads out of the bathroom.

  Just outside the lodge, by the trees, Angel and Keith are pinned down, taking heavy fire. Cole takes a bullet to the temple, topples over backwards.

  Crash! A twig snaps behind them. Keith spins around and… Slice! In one swift, vicious move, a combat knife slashes deep into Keith’s neck and chest. He falls instantly.

  Angel turns to see the attacker, who is none other than Frederick Phelps. She fires off a few shots, peppering the trees behind him, but he swiftly takes cover.

  He then rushes towards where Marine One which is idling nearby. He yells out to a scar-faced gunman that is in the pilot’s seat. “Let’s go!”

  But as he surges forward towards the craft, Angel comes running out of the tree line.

  Gunfire erupts all around her. She’s got no way to escape. But still she rushes toward Frederick, firing.

  The scar-faced gunman jumps out of the chopper and comes racing up behind Frederick. He and Angel squeeze their triggers at the same time!

  Blam! Blam! Two bullets fly through the air as Frederick hits the dirt.

  The bullets cross paths right over his head. One tears through the scar-faced gunman’s chest as the other rips through Angel’s midsection. Both fall to the ground in pools of blood.

  Frederick rises to his feet, brushes himself off, grinning smugly. It seems like he can get through anything. But then… Bam! A rifle butt smashes into the back of his head. He crumples to the ground, motionless. Maggie glares down at him before quickly taking cover.

  Back inside the presidential cabin, Jack, Charles and Wilcox lead Hawkins and Lombard toward the door. When Jack hears gunshots, he stops for a second, but Charles nudges him and he focuses again.

  “We’ve gotta find the bomb and…” speaks Jack.

  Lombard shakes his head. “No. There’s C-4 everywhere in this compound. They’ve got the whole place wired. If one bomb goes, the others follow. No way we could get to all of them.”

  “This isn’t a rescue mission anymore, gentlemen,” says Wilcox. “It’s an escape. Provide cover, and I’ll lead the president to Marine One.”

  The others nod, so Wilcox and Lombard take a position by the door. Lombard stops abruptly, gazing at Jack. “One second... I recognize you.”

  Jack grimly nods. “Probably got a security briefing with my picture on it.”

  Lombard shakes his head. “No, I met you in the White House.”

  Jack almost actually grins for a second, impressed by Lombard’s memory. “Yes, sir, you did.”

  Lombard then remembers the actual encounter. “You warned me about this.”

  Jack nods. “Wish I’d listened,” says Lombard. “Nothing personal, of course. In my position you never know who to trust.” And with that, Lombard makes a quick exit with Wilcox, hurrying toward the chopper.

  Jack’s expression glazes over as he withdraws into his own thoughts. “Never know who to trust,” he mutters to himself. He produces Spencer’s photo. Stares intently at Wilcox’s face surrounded by his father’s blood. “Never know who to trust,” he repeats, thinking.

  Charles gives him a inquisitive look and Jack groans in disgust. “It wasn’t just advice. It was a warning!” Jack flies out the door in a flash.

  As Wilcox and Lombard approach Marine One, Maggie emerges from cover. “I’ll provide cover!”

  Wilcox nods as he hurries to the chopper. They are more than halfway there when Jack yells out.

  “Wilcox, stop!” Jack catches up to them, gun drawn.

  Wilcox freezes at the entrance of the chopper. He takes a defensive position, putting a gun to the president’s head! “Well, lad. Looks like you would have made a decent detective after all. I almost regret not recruiting you like your father.”

  “He trusted you,” spits Jack, angry.

  “He didn’t know what he was getting into, and neither do you. We own this country, kid. And you’d be smart to stay out of our affairs.”

  Peter Phelps leans out of Marine One, nervously fingering a detonator. “Get your ass in here, Wilcox! You know I can’t fly this thing.”

  Wilcox takes advantage of the temporary distraction. He flings Lombard to the ground. He then takes a hasty shot at Maggie, hitting her in the side. Wilcox climbs in and positions himself in the pilot’s seat.

  Crack! Crack! Bullets hit the chopper as the rotors spin. The two look through the windshield at Charles and Hawkins and Lombard rushing toward them.

  “Take off... Now!” yells Phelps.

  On the ground, Maggie lies bleeding. Jack scurries over to her, cradles her head in his hands. “Maggie.” He clutches her tight. Lovingly. Presses his face against hers in a kiss. But Maggie breaks away long enough to tell him: “Get Wilcox!”

  Jack knows she means business, so he peels away and jumps back into action.

  The door to Marine One flies open and Hawkins reaches in, grabbing Phelps by the collar and throwing him out.

  Jack dives past them, attacking Wilcox. He hits him with the butt of his gun one, two, three, four times. Wilcox’s face goes bloody and he slumps against the side window. Looks lifeless.

  “Go on, play possum,” says Jack. “See if I care.” He punches Wilcox again.

  Behind them, Charles ushers Lombard into the back of the chopper.

  By the trees, Hawkins and Phelps wrestle, their bodies slamming to the ground. “Give it up, Hawkins!”

  Hawkins rolls Phelps over, slams his face into the dirt. “What the hell are you doing this for? We were friends!”

  “Should’ve been me,” yells Phelps.

  “What?”

  “That pompous ass gets the big chair and all I got was your pity, your offer to stay on in the same lousy job I’ve had for four years.”

  Hawkins can’t believe it. Shakes his head, then remembers more details. “Why’d you have Donald William killed?”

  No answer. Hawkins slams Phelps’s nose against the ground. “Why?”

  “He was gonna blow the whistle on the entire organization,” answers Phelps. “But when your boy started nosing around, going to see him at home, it gave us the perfect patsy.”

  Hawkins is ready to slam Phelps’s face again when Phelps surprises him by lifting up quickly, the back of his head slamming into Hawkins’s nose. Hawkins falls backwards, blood pouring from his nostrils.

  “Don’t you see you can’t win?” yells Phelps. “It’s already started. Kicking my ass won’t do any good.”

  “Oh, I disagree. It’ll make me feel real good.”

  Hawkins lunges at Phelps and unleashes a devastating array of punches.

  Inside Marine One, Lombard studies the controls. “Anybody know how to fly this bird?”

  “I flew choppers in Desert Storm,” calls out Hawkins.

  Lombard turns and sees Hawkins supporting Maggie as they run toward the chopper. Phelps is crumpled on the ground behind them. “Then get your ass in here now!”

  A moment later Phelps rustles and sees the group getting ready to take off. He rises to his knees and moves toward the chopper.

  Jack, inside the chopper, sees Haw
kins climbing on board and passing Maggie off to Lombard. He stares at Maggie’s wound, and he doesn’t notice Wilcox opening his eyes beside him. No one does.

  Suddenly, Wilcox punches Jack in the face hard, and Jack falls backwards. But he’s not disabled for long and he surges forward, throwing all his weight into Wilcox, the two tumbling through the open side door.

  Marine One starts to float up into the air as Jack and Wilcox trade punches. Jack lands one. Wilcox lands one. Again and again. An even fight.

  Crack! A hard shot to Wilcox’s jaw and the man goes tumbling backwards.

  “Jack!” yells Charles.

  Jack turns, seeing the chopper hovering just overhead, Charles’s arm extended. He rushes over and jumps.

  Charles catches him by the wrist and starts to pull him up. But Wilcox grabs onto Jack’s legs!

  The chopper lifts into the air, with Jack hanging from the landing gear and Wilcox clutching Jack.

  Down below, Frederick comes to. He finds a rifle and takes aim at the chopper where Maggie and Charles both lean out the door, trying to reach for Jack.

  Bullets slam into the hull next to the door. “We’re taking fire!” yells Maggie.

  Charles pulls his gun and returns fire.

  Jack clings to the landing gear, weakened by his shoulder wound and burdened with weight as Wilcox climbs up his back.

  Maggie reaches out, but they’re too far.

  Jack stares up at her, losing his battle. Then, he spots something. “Maggie! Shoot for a bulls-eye!”

  Maggie follows his gaze and sees some extra tranquilizer darts strapped to her arm. She takes one.

  Wilcox’s face hovers just above Jack’s shoulder. The whole chopper wobbles and rotates - hardly a steady target.

  On the ground, Frederick takes a shot in the chest. He goes still.

  Peter Phelps inches past him, beaten and bloodied, moving slowly, the detonation device still in his hand.

  But then he runs out of steam. His hand falls slack and the detonator falls to the ground. He topples forward, right onto the detonator button!

  Beep, beep, beep… It sounds three alarms and then… Boom!