World War III Read online

  Suddenly a deer appeared a hundred yards away, stopping just shy of the tree line. He stood there for a moment, sniffing the air for any scent of a predator, before slowly emerging from the cover of the trees. He was a young buck, but large for his age. Shiloh raised his rifle and took careful aim, as the buck lowered his head and began foraging for wild grass. When Shiloh had the deer in the crosshairs of his scope he took a deep breath, and then slowly exhaled. As the air in his lungs gradually escaped through his lips, he squeezed the trigger. The rifle kicked violently in his hands, and the deer dropped dead.

  “Nice shot,” cheered Mason, patting him on the back.

  “Thanks,” replied Shiloh, “I thought I’d seen something moving in the tree line. I’ll let you get the next one.”

  Three hours later, the two men returned to Shiloh’s truck, carrying the carcass of the dead buck. When they arrived they found Ian, Cole and Alfonso waiting for them. In the bed of the truck lay the bodies of three more bucks. Shiloh and Mason, with help from the others, lifted their buck into the bed of the truck, adding it to the collection.

  “Only one?” teased Ian.

  “That’s all we found,” confessed Shiloh. “I see you guys had better luck.”

  “One of them was mine,” explained Cole, full of excitement.

  “Yes,” Alfonso patted Cole on the shoulder. “Señor Higgins shot his first deer.”

  “Congratulations!” said Shiloh. “I’m sure everyone back in town will be grateful for the extra meat.”

  “Where did you find three of them?” asked Mason, a little ashamed that he was the only one who hadn’t killed a deer.

  “There was a small herd of them in the meadow when we arrived,” explained Ian. “We each chose a buck and on the count of three fired, dropping all three bucks at the same time.”

  The five men climbed into the truck and headed back towards Clearview. They were descending the foothills when they heard gunfire and the loud roar of engines in the sky above. Shiloh immediately pulled the truck to a stop, and along with the rest of the men, climbed out. He shaded his eyes with his hand and scanned the horizon for a moment, before his eyes focused in on the fighters.

  “There!” he shouted, pointing up at the sky.

  High above them were four fighter jets. The aircraft in the lead appeared different in shape and size than the three following in hot pursuit. Suddenly, the three identical jets opened fire on the lead fighter.

  “Are those ours?” asked Cole, shading his eyes.

  “At least one of them is,” answered Ian.

  Ian quickly reached into the back of the truck and unclipped the scope from his rifle. Holding the scope to his eye, he focused in on the fighter jets. “The lead jet is ours,” he announced. “I think it’s an F-35, and the other three are Russian MIG’s.”

  “Let’s help him,” suggested Cole, excited to shoot at something besides a deer.

  “Are you kidding?” asked Mason. “There’s no way that we can hit them from down here. Maybe if they were closer, but even then it’s doubtful at that speed.”

  The small group watched, as the F-35 swung back around to face the MIG’s. He flew straight at them, firing all the way. The group of men began to cheer when they saw one of the MIG’s crash into the side of a mountain. The American pilot then dove down towards the ground, heading right towards the small group of spectators, with a MIG hot on his tale.

  “Alright boys, here’s our chance,” shouted Shiloh, grabbing his rifle from the truck. The rest of the men did likewise and waited for the aircrafts to pass by. “Remember to lead your target,” advised Shiloh. When the fighter jets were in range, they opened up on the MIG. Although they didn’t cause any noticeable damage, they were able to distract the Russian pilot enough that he disengaged from the American fighter.

  They watched with satisfaction, as the American F-35 climbed in elevation and engaged the third MIG, firing an air-to-air missile. The MIG tried to outrun the missile with evasive maneuvers but the missile smashed into one of the MIG’s wings, causing the pilot to eject. The small group from Clearview couldn’t help but cheer and applaud the American fighter, as they watched a red parachute deploy from the downed MIG pilot.

  Their cheering however came to a sudden stop when the third and final MIG began firing down at them. All five men immediately scattered, as machine gun fire sprayed the earth around them. The Russian pilot swung around to make a second pass, and once again the men ducked for cover. The MIG was on its third approach when the American F-35 swung down and charged it head on. As the two fighter jets drew near one another in a game of chicken, the Russian MIG fired a constant barrage of machine gun fire. The American pilot on the other hand held his fire.

  “Why doesn’t he shoot?” asked Cole, referring to the F-35.

  “Maybe he’s out of ammo,” suggested Mason.

  The two jets were dangerously close to smashing into one another, when all of a sudden the American fighter opened up on the MIG with its 25mm cannon. Just as abruptly, the F-35’s canopy shot into the air, as the pilot ejected. The two fighter jets smashed into each other at full speed, causing a thunderous and fiery explosion in the sky above. The men of Clearview watched, as a white parachute deployed from the ejection seat, and the pilot slowly floated to the ground. It was a windy day, and the breeze was carrying him toward the mountains and away from town.

  “Let’s go see if he needs any help!” said Shiloh, as he and the others climbed back into the truck and sped off in the direction the wind was taking the American pilot.

  Hanging Target

  World War III – Day Seven

  Clearview, Nevada

  Lieutenant Colonel Kye Williams scanned the terrain below, as he slowly floated down towards the stunning Sierra Nevada Mountains. Although winter would soon be coming to an end, the mountains were still covered with a thick blanket of snow. Beneath Kye the landscape was dotted with dark green pine trees, and there were no open clearings close enough for him to land in. After running out of ammo he’d ditched his F-35 in a final kamikaze attack. That decision seemed like a good idea at the time, but right now he was wishing he had more options.

  In the distance he could see a large convoy of soldiers and trucks headed towards him. The markings on the vehicles told him that they were Chinese and not Russian. Kye wasn’t really sure who he’d prefer, either way his captivity would likely begin with torture and end in death. The Russians didn’t treat their own people very well, let alone foreign enemy combatants. And as for the Chinese, well, they were notorious for their numerous methods of torture.

  As Kye floated closer and closer to the earth and the enemy convoy, he quickly considered his options. The only weapons that he had were a 9mm Glock and a small hunting knife, not much considering what was waiting for him below. Off to the east he could see the truck full of civilians speeding towards him. His only hope was that they reached him before the Chinese.

  When the tree tops beneath him were less than a hundred yards away, Kye pulled down on the parachute toggles to slow his rate of descent. No matter what he did it was going to be a rough landing, so he braced himself for the worst. With a loud grunt, he smashed into a large pine tree at about 30 miles per hour. The sound of branches snapping and breaking under his body weight filled his ears, as he fell towards the frozen ground. Bouncing from one limb to the next, Kye felt thousands of pine needles clawing at his exposed skin, until finally he stopped falling.

  Having clenched his eyes shut to protect them from the pine needles, Kye slowly opened them and looked around. He’d been expecting to hit the ground, but instead found himself floating in mid-air. Glancing up towards the sky, he immediately realized that the cords of his parachute were tangled in the branches above. He looked down at the snow beneath him, trying to judge the distance between his feet and the ground. He guessed it to be about ten or twelve feet, maybe more. If he landed right he should be fine, but if he didn’t he could very easily break a leg. Kye quickly
came to the conclusion that he’d prefer to take his chances with the fall. The last thing he wanted was to provide the Chinese soldiers with a hanging target to shoot at for their amusement.

  With his mind made up, Kye reached into his pocket and withdrew the hunting knife. Reaching up, he grabbed hold of one of the parachute cords and used the knife to slice it clean through. He then repeated the procedure on the other cord. When he was halfway through the second cord it snapped from his weight and he fell to the ground, landing flat on his back with a thud. His body was bruised and cut from all of the branches that he’d hit on the way down. Kye groaned as he checked himself for serious injuries, looking up at the tree and what was left of his parachute. The Chinese convoy would arrive any moment, especially with his parachute hanging high up in the tree like a huge white flag. He needed to get up and start moving.

  In the distance, Kye could hear vehicles approaching from the southwest. He tried to stand up but his legs buckled and he fell to the snow covered ground. Nothing seemed broken, except for maybe his pride. He rubbed his swollen ankle and felt a twinge of pain, it wasn’t broken but it was probably sprained. Once again he tried to get his feet underneath him, this time using the tree trunk for support. It took a minute, but he finally made it to a standing position.

  Kye slide the knife back into his pocket and withdrew his 9mm Glock. He quickly checked the magazine to ensure it was loaded and then chambered a round. The Glock held 15 rounds but in his pocket he had an extra magazine with another 15 rounds, just in case. He knew that it wouldn’t be enough if they found him, but at least it was better than nothing. For a fleeting second, it occurred to Kye that he might be better off putting a round in his head, as opposed to being captured alive. He remembered reading several western novels where the characters did just that to avoid being captured by the Indians, and the subsequent torture that was sure to follow. But Kye was a fighter, he always had been, and there was no way he was going to kill himself to avoid capture. If they wanted him dead they’d have to do the job themselves, and he intended to take as many of them with him as possible.

  The rumble of engines became louder and louder, as the enemy convoy drew closer to Kye’s location. On the ground next to his feet was a long, thick branch which had broken during his fall. He quickly picked it up and broke off some of the smaller branches so that it could be used as a crutch. The Chinese were coming from the southwest so he decided to head in the opposite direction.

  After a quick glance around, Kye noticed a poorly maintained hiking trail. Scattered along the trail were several rocks and boulders, which he decided to use as stepping stones. The fewer tracks he left in the snow the harder it would be for the enemy to find him. He hobbled along the trail using stones when he could, until he came to a small creek flowing west to east. Knowing that his pursuers would have a much harder time tracking him through the creek, he quickly stepped into the ice cold water and headed east. The frigid water soothed his swollen ankle through his boot’s waterproof exterior. Walking was still difficult and attempting to navigate the slippery rocks with a sprain was not easy.

  Kye waded ankle deep through the creek for a little over a mile, before he found a good spot to climb out and take refuge. The shelter consisted of a large, fallen tree that had landed on top of a huge boulder after being struck by lightning. Over the years, bushes had grown up all around it, creating a naturally camouflaged shelter. He quickly added more branches to the top of the hideout to provide additional cover. Soaked and freezing cold, he desperately wanted to build a fire, but knew all too well what a huge mistake that would be. The smoke alone would attract his enemies, even if they couldn’t see the flames. Gripping the 9mm Glock in one hand, he crouched down and began rubbing his legs with his free hand, in hopes of getting the blood flowing again.

  Kye didn’t have to wait too long before he saw more than a dozen Chinese soldiers making their way through the forest on either side of the creek. He held his breath as they drew closer, scanning the ground for tracks or any sign of his passing. The soldiers were about twenty yards away when Kye removed the safety from his gun and braced himself for the fight of his life.

  “Don’t do it mister,” whispered a soft, feminine voice.

  Kye was so startled by the girl’s voice that his heart skipped a beat and he nearly fired his weapon. He frantically looked around, but couldn’t find the source of the warning. “Hello?” he whispered into the forest of trees. “Who’s there?”

  “Quiet mister, they’re gonna hear ya?”

  This time Kye was able to narrow down the direction from which the whisper originated. He peered into a nearby bush and was surprised to see a pair of deep blue eyes gazing back. “Who are you?”

  “I said be quiet!” whispered the voice. “Are ya trying to get us both killed?”

  Kye returned his attention to the group of Chinese soldiers hunting him and quickly decided to follow the prudent directions from the stranger hiding in the bush. Yet as the soldiers drew closer, he couldn’t help bracing himself for a fight. His grip tightened on the gun in his hand, as he took careful aim at the closest soldier.

  “Wait for it!” whispered the girl’s voice, more urgent than before.

  Wait for what?

  Kye wasn’t used to taking orders from children, but this particular child seemed shrewdly calm and collected. Perhaps she had a plan, but if so what was it? Kye could smell the scent of tobacco radiating from one of the Chinese soldiers and for a brief moment, he silently thanked God that he hadn’t used any cologne that day.

  Regardless of what the mysterious voice said, he had no intention of being taken alive. He was about to make his move when suddenly a loud explosion broke the silence. Several miles to the southwest a large, orange plum of fire could be seen rising into the air. The explosion came from the same direction in which the Chinese soldiers had come from. Kye watched as they quickly turned and retreated back towards where they’d left their vehicles.

  “How did you know about the explosion before it happened?” Kye asked, once the soldiers were out of sight.

  The bush shook a little as the girl stood up and climbed out from inside of it. She was dressed in camouflage from head to toe including her painted face, which explained why Kye had been unable to see her, even at such a close distance.

  “Cause I know things about explosions mister,” she answered, matter of fact.

  “What’s your name young lady?”

  “None ya,” she replied, eyeing the gun in Kye’s hand.

  Noticing her glance, Kye slid the gun behind his belt and said, “Come on, we better get out of here before they come back.” He started to head east when he realized the girl hadn’t moved. She just stood there staring at him, as if she was trying to determine if he’d been worth saving.

  “Aren’t you coming?”

  “You’re going the wrong way mister,” she said, before turning and heading north.

  Realizing that she probably knew the forest far better than he did and not wanting to leave her alone with enemy troops nearby, Kye turned to follow. “Where are we going?”

  “Does it matter,” she replied, still speaking softly.

  As they weaved in and out the trees, Kye noticed that she made no sound as she glided over the pine needles. The same could not be said for him. With each step that he took a twig snapped or a branch brushed against the fabric of his jumpsuit. Of course his sprained ankle made things worse and he soon realized that he was falling behind.

  After what seemed like an endless number of miles, the girl stopped and leaned against a tree, waiting for Kye to catch up. “Are we stopping?” he asked, hopeful that he would be getting a much needed break.

  The girl removed a long, skinny twig from between her clenched teeth and said, “Yep, we’re here.”

  “Here?” Kye glanced around at the thick forest of trees surrounding them. “Where are we?”

  “Home,” she replied, before popping the twig back in her mouth and
chewing on the end.

  “You live here?”

  “Of course mister, what’s wrong with here?”

  “Well, for starters there’s no house.”

  “Sure there is,” said the girl, a little defensive.

  “Where?” asked Kye, looking around again and wondering if perhaps it too was hidden in the bushes.

  “You’re looking in every direction but the right one mister,” replied the young girl, pointing up towards the sky.

  Kye glanced up, following the girl’s finger and was shocked to see a full-size house built around a large tree, sixty feet in the air. His mouth dropped open, as he stared in disbelief. “You live up there? But, how did you…? I don’t understand?”

  “It’s just a tree house,” said the girl. “Haven’t you ever seen a tree house before?”

  “Well yes, of course, but never, well, never one like this.”

  “Well now you have, you coming?”

  “How do we get up there?”

  “Easy!” The young girl reached behind the tree she was leaning against and unhooked a rope attached to a pulley system. She then stepped onto a board concealed beneath pine needles and with the jerk of her hand, soared high into the air.

  Kye watched unbelievingly as she was lifted straight up towards the house above. The rope elevator stopped right in front of the house and the girl stepped off, disappearing onto the porch. Kye was about to call out to her, when suddenly the board fell back down, landing with a thud at his feet.

  “Climb on!” shouted the girl, dangling out over the edge of the porch.

  Kye did as instructed and placed both of his feet on the board. “Now what?” he asked, gripping the rope with both hands.

  “Hold on!” she giggled.

  With a gush of air filling his ears, Kye soared high into the sky. He could feel his stomach rise up into his throat and for a brief moment he had flashbacks of riding the needle at the top of the Stratosphere in Las Vegas. The board stopped right in front of the porch and he quickly but carefully climbed off.