World War III Read online

  For a brief second Jesse wondered if he was about to be thrown into the ocean or perhaps have his back broken and head severed. He was surprised when the super-soldier began to twirl around in a circle, swinging Jesse’s body helplessly in the air before letting go.

  Jesse flew through the air and landed with a thud, his mouth full of sand. He tried to stand, but his leg buckled beneath him.

  Is it broken?

  Suddenly he was rising, but not by his own power. The Russian lifted Jesse to his feet before punching him twice in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. The blows to the stomach were quickly followed with a vicious uppercut to the jaw, sending Jesse’s helmet flying. Jesse was once again on the ground and covered in sand. He lay there gasping for air. He glanced around, frantically searching for any form of a weapon.

  The Russian reached down and picked Jesse up again, only this time instead of hitting him, he gave him a bear hug. Wrapping both of his arms around Sgt. Morgan, the supper-soldier lifted him a foot off the ground and began to squeeze. What little air Jesse had left in his lungs was instantly gone. He struggled to free himself, but the Russian’s grip couldn’t be broken.

  Sunlight glinted off of one of the grenades strapped to the super-soldier’s chest. Jesse suddenly had an idea. Bending his head down towards the Russian’s grinning face, Sgt. Morgan bit down on the man’s nose with all his strength. He could feel his teeth puncture the soldier’s flesh, as blood flowed into his mouth.

  The soldier screamed and released his vice-like grip. He shoved Jesse away, tossing him to the ground five yards away. What he didn’t realize was that Jesse had managed to get a couple of his fingers wrapped around two of the grenade’s pins strapped to the front of the Russian’s chest, before being jettisoned.

  “Now, I kill you!” hissed the Russian in broken English, as he looked down at Jesse’s blood covered face.

  “Or I kill you,” replied Jesse, holding out the grenade’s pins in the palm of his hand.

  The Russian’s eyes widened as he looked down at the grenades strapped to his chest. He frantically tried to remove them, but it was too late. Jesse rolled over onto his stomach and quickly covered his head with his arms.

  Boom!!!

  Sand showered down upon him. Jesse waited for a second before turning onto his back and sitting up. The super-soldier was gone, except for a few pieces and limbs here and there.

  “Thank God!’’ gasped Jesse, still trying to catch his breath.

  His moment of glory didn’t last very long. Marching towards him across the beach were a dozen more super-soldiers. They held their weapons shoulder high and had determined looks upon their face.

  Why should I even try!

  In his mind he was debating on whether or not to fight back or just give up, when suddenly an American fighter jet appeared out of nowhere. Jesse could just make out the familiar whistle of an air-to-ground bomb, as the fighter roared by. He quickly covered his head and rolled over into a foxhole, as the bomb exploded in the middle of the formation of super-soldiers.

  When the sand had settled, Jesse peered up out of the foxhole. The super-soldiers were gone but thousands of more soldiers were advancing from the shoreline. He slowly stood up and brushed the sand off of his uniform. He looked to the left and then to the right. Nowhere in sight were any of his fellow Marines. They were all dead. He was the last man standing.

  He had three options. He could either stand and fight, and subsequently die. He could turn and run. Or he could hide. Jesse looked behind and realized that his flank had also been overrun with enemy soldiers. Option two was gone. Thinking of Jillian, he quickly chose option three and dove back down into the foxhole. He reached up and pulled the dead body of a Marine over him, along with a bunch of sand.

  He could hear the footsteps and shouts of both Russian and Chinese soldiers, as they walked by the foxhole. Hopefully they’d pass by without ever seeing him. His plan was to wait for night and then slip away under the cover of darkness. Jesse reached into his pocket and withdrew a picture of Jillian. He kissed the picture and then held it close to his chest. Somehow it made him feel better.

  *******

  From their small apartment a few miles to the east, Jillian stared longingly out the window, wishing that Jesse was here with her. Although she couldn’t see the beach or any of the fighting, she could hear the whistle of shells as they passed overhead and the loud, vibrating explosions when they found their mark.

  She hated being alone, especially with what was happening, but knew what she was getting into when she fell in love with a Marine. If there was any way that Jesse could be here with her, he would. The sudden roar of fighter jets startled her, as a squadron of F-18’s flew by, headed out to sea. Jillian wondered if the pilots could see Jesse on the beach.

  For a brief moment she wished she could be in the cockpit with them, but quickly changed her mind when a missile slammed into one of the jets in a fiery explosion. Jillian gasped and took a step back, away from the window. She turned and looked down at the crumpled piece of paper, clenched in her trembling hand.

  Jesse had left her with a list of items to pack and bring to his grandfather’s sailboat in the event the enemy took the beach. She scanned the list, trying not to think about the death outside her doorstep. Jillian picked up her I-pod from off the coffee table and stuck the small, white headphones into her ears. She hit play on the screen, instantly replacing exploding shells and rapid gunfire with the sound of music.

  The first item on the list was the key to the sailboat. Jillian opened the drawer where Jesse told her she’d find it and slipped the key into her pocket. She quickly grabbed a duffle bag and began filling it with all of the items on the list. When the task was complete she carried the bag to the living room and set it down next to the door.

  It was dusk outside and she wondered if and when she should head to the sailboat. Jillian removed the speakers from her ears and was surprised by what she heard. Nothing. No cannon shells exploding, no rapid gunfire, not even the roar of fighter jets. Looking out the window all she could see were civilians running through the streets. Some of them carried belongings strapped to their backs and others wielded guns. What scared Jillian the most was they all seemed to be headed in the same general direction, away from the coast!

  She suddenly remembered that one of the items she’d packed was a military radio. Jillian bent down next to the duffle bag and pulled out the radio. It took her a minute to figure out how to turn it on, and when she did all she heard was static. She started switching through the numerous channels, stopping on each one for thirty seconds and listening, before moving on to the next. After a few minutes of searching she finally found a station with a broken reception.

  “…affirmative…the beach has been taken…” Jillian’s heart skipped a beat. The beach was where Jesse was stationed. She tried to get a clearer reception, but no matter what she did each sentence was broken, with static filling the void.

  “…hold them off as long as you can son! We need to evacuate as many civilians as possible before…” The second voice held the confidence of a Commander.

  “…too late! We’ve been overrun...” screamed the second, much younger voice. “…there’s too many of them! Pull back! Pull back...” It was hard to hear the Lieutenant over the thundering explosions and barrage of gunfire.

  “…you must hold that ground!” ordered the Commander. “Do you hear me Lieutenant…the enemy must not be allowed to secure a foothold…Fight to the last man! That’s an order!”

  “…they’re everywhere! They’re all around us! We can’t hold them off much longer…” Jillian heard what sounded like a choked scream escape from the Lieutenant’s mouth, before the air was filled with static.

  “Lieutenant?” The commander called. “Come in Lieutenant. Do you read me?”

  When no response came, Jillian couldn’t help but wonder if the Lieutenant had done exactly as ordered and fought to the very last man. After a few seconds
of silence she heard the Commander’s voice once again.

  “Fox-Trot, Fox-Trot, this is Orion calling Fox-Trot, do you read me over?”

  “This is Fox-Trot. We read you loud and clear Orion, go ahead.”

  “Section six has been compromised,” said the Commander. “I repeat, the beach has been taken. Pull back to section eight and dig in. You must hold the line at all costs. We need more time to evacuate the city. Do you copy? Over.”

  “Copy that,” said Fox-Trot. “Pulling back to section eight and digging in. Over and out.”

  If the beach was taken and they were evacuating the city it was only a matter of time before enemy troops would be knocking on the door. With her mind made up, Jillian put the radio back in the bag and zipped it shut. She ran to the closet and grabbed a coat. Stopping at the door, she took one last look at the apartment they’d called home, before bending down and picking up the duffle bag.

  Sitting on the table next to the door was a picture of Jesse and Jillian, standing together in front of the Ferris Wheel at Navy Pier in Chicago. When she saw it her eyes welled with tears, thinking of him somewhere on the beach, possibly wounded or dying.

  “No!” She said, picking up the picture and kissing it. “You’re still alive and I’m going to meet you at the sailboat just like you said!” She wiped the tears from her eyes and slipped the picture into the duffle bag, before opening the door and stepping outside.

  The sun was starting to set and the sky looked beautiful, painted with a myriad of colors. Jillian was startled when gunfire erupted on the streets in front of her. Dozens of civilians were running down the streets headed east, when they were suddenly gunned down from behind. Jillian gasped as some of the civilians turned around and returned fire, only to be shot dead.

  From where she was standing she couldn’t see who had fired the shots, but she could hear Russian voices shouting to one another as they advanced down the street. She quickly turned and ducked back inside, closing the door behind her. She dropped the bag and bolted the door, before dropping to her hands and knees.

  Jillian crawled to the window and peered out. Hundreds of Russian soldiers were walking down the street, carrying machineguns and busting open doors as they advanced. Her mouth dropped open when she realized they were almost to her door! She quickly ducked down, with her back pressed against the wall. Where could she hide where they wouldn’t find her?

  She scanned the apartment, franticly looking for a hiding place, when the idea suddenly came to her. Built into the wall below the window was a hallowed out window-seat. She quickly lifted the lid and emptied the games and blankets stored inside. She threw the contents as far from her as possible, not wanting to draw attention to this spot. When the window-seat was empty she climbed in and closed the lid, and not a moment too soon.

  The sound of soldiers pounding on the door shook the wall and the window-seat where she was hiding. She listened, as they beat against the wooden door until the hinges gave way and the door came crashing open. Jillian held her breath, as soldiers flooded into the apartment. The sound of their boots on the hardwood floors sent shivers down her spine, as she tried to be silent and invisible.

  Eject!!!

  World War III – Day Three

  The Sky above the Pacific Ocean

  Lt. Colonel Kye Williams and his squadron of F-35’s were flying high above the majestic snowcapped Sierra Nevada Mountains when they received confirmation of their orders. They were one hundred and fifty miles from the coast and closing fast when their formation was joined by a group of F-22 Raptor’s out of Nellis Air Force Base. This was the twelfth mission in the last three days that Kye was leading against the enemy armada, still floating just off the coast. His body was weary and his eyes felt heavy from lack of sleep. The only thing that was keeping him awake was the anticipation of the looming battle. Over the radio came chatter from American fighter jets who’d already reached the ocean and engaged the fleet of enemy ships.

  “Eagles Nest calling Raven Claw, Eagles Nest calling Raven Claw, do you copy? Over.”

  “Eagles Nest, this is Raven Claw,” replied Kye. “I read you loud and clear. Over.”

  “Be advised Raven Claw, enemy forces have breached our coastal defenses and are already on the beach. Your orders are to precede to coordinates 32.85 degrees North and 117.27 degrees West and engage the enemy. Over.”

  “Roger that Eagles Nest,” said Kye into his headset, “confirming coordinates 32.85 degrees North and 117.27 degrees West. Over.”

  “That’s affirmative Raven Claw. Hostile targets include all ships in the convoy west of San Diego. Be advised friendlies are on the beach so proceed with caution. Over.”

  “Copy that Eagles Nest, friendlies on the deck heard and acknowledged. What’s the twenty on civilians? Over.”

  “Forced evacuations are currently underway throughout southern California. Private contractors are re-locating the populace and moving them back from the coastline. Over.”

  “Roger that Eagles Nest. This is Raven Claw, over and out. Alright boy’s,” Kye said to the men in his squadron after switching to a private channel, “you heard him, let’s give them hell!”

  Less than ten minutes later Kye saw the deep blue water of the Pacific Ocean stretching out before him. Flying low over San Diego the squadron could see thousands of civilians running for shelter, as shell after shell exploded around them. The beach was dotted with soldiers, tanks and all manner of armored vehicles, making it hard to distinguish between American and enemy troops.

  The United States naval fleet stationed at Coronado Island had been virtually wiped out during the first strike. The few ships that remained afloat had been ordered to rescue as many sailors from the water as possible, before retreating southeast to join up with the fleet coming in from Hawaii. Kye could see thousands of amphibious troop transports approaching the coast at top speed. Farther out to sea he could just barely glimpse the larger vessels of the convoy.

  “This is Bull Pen-Two-Three who’s with me? Over.”

  “Dog Pound-Two-One coming up on your left.”

  “Liberty-One-Eight joining the fight.”

  “Yankee-Bravo-Two, we’re on your six.”

  “Eagle-Seven on your right.”

  “All stations this net, this is Foxtrot-Two-November, be advised we’re taking heavy fire. Over.”

  “Foxtrot-Two-November this is Raven Claw with a squadron of F-35’s, we’re coming in hot. Over.”

  “Copy that Raven Claw, glad to have the air support. Over.”

  “Odd Ball,” ordered Lt. Colonel Kye Williams, “I want you and Ghost Rider to concentrate all of your fire on those destroyers shelling the city. Over.”

  “Roger that Raven Claw,” answered Odd Ball, “Ghost Rider, on me, we’re going in.” Two of the F-35’s broke formation and veered off from the squadron to attack one of the Russian destroyers.

  “Everybody else on my count break formation and attack those troop transports,” ordered Kye, “three, two, one, break!” All of the remaining F-35’s broke formation and immediately began targeting the transports approaching the beachhead.

  Pointing the nose of his F-35 towards the ocean, Kye put his aircraft into a dive and opened fire. His bullets sprayed into one of the transport ships and peppered the water around it. Kye noticed several soldiers inside the transport open up on him with their rifles and machine guns, as he flew by without taking a single hit. Circling back around he dove again, with just barely enough time to make one more pass before the sky became littered with enemy fighters. Launched from nearby carriers, a horde of Russian MIG-35’s and Chinese J-20 stealth fighters filled the sky, nearly blotting out the sun. Kye and the rest of the American fighters were suddenly outnumbered by more than twenty to one. Yet even those odds were favorable in comparison to the ground troops fighting below.

  If enemy troops were allowed to breach the defenses on the beach, the American soldiers would be outnumbered by over a hundred to one. With odds like
that it was doubtful they’d be able to hold the beach for very long. It was up to Kye and his squadron of fighters to whittle that number down as much as possible, giving the defending ground troops a better chance. Suddenly and without warning bullets began to spray the air around Kye, as a MIG-35 took up position behind him.

  “Raven Claw this is Ghost Rider be aware you’ve got a bogie on your six. Ya want me to engage?”

  “Negative Ghost Rider,” answered Kye, “drop back and concentrate all fire power on the big carrier to your starboard.”

  “Roger that Raven Claw, disengaging.”

  Kye quickly began to zigzag in an attempt to shake the MIG on his tail. When that was unsuccessful he dove down towards the ocean with the MIG right behind him. Kye pulled back hard on the joystick just before hitting the deck, but much to his dismay he’d not been able to shake the MIG.

  All of a sudden the warning system in Kye’s helmet began to beep rapidly, as the trailing MIG locked onto his signature and fired an air-to-air missile. At full power, Kye quickly headed out to sea towards the enemy convoy with the missile and MIG hot on his tail. The missile was gaining and Kye knew he couldn’t outrun it. It was only a matter of seconds before impact.

  Reaching the armada of enemy ships he quickly dove down towards the convoy, flying only a few feet above the surface of the ocean. If his cockpit had a window he could have opened it and felt the spray from the salty sea water. The helmet mounted display system allowed Kye to see both the missile and the MIG behind him as he accelerated to the aircrafts top speed of Mach 1.6.

  Kye was headed straight for a Chinese destroyer with the missile hot on his tail, when at the very last moment he pulled up. His F-35 rocketed into the sky as the missile struck the side of the destroyer. Judging by the size of the subsequent explosion, the missile must have struck either the fuel or the ammo supply. Whatever it hit, the blast caused the ship to roll onto its side, allowing the sea water to rush into its exposed belly.