World War III Page 8

  Casey glanced down at the revolver in his hand and briefly wondered if he should’ve selected a larger weapon, perhaps a shotgun or something with more kick. As he continued to listen, he could hear clicking coming from the chicken’s talons, as they walked around the trailer.

  Well, whatever’s in there hasn’t killed the chickens, at least not yet.

  Casey took that as a good sign and continued to slowly walk to the end of the trailer. He pulled the keys out of his pocket, trying to make as little noise as possible, and unfastened the padlock. He could feel his palms becoming sweaty, as he took hold of one of the doors. With a deep breath, he swung the door open and peered into the darkness, the revolver gripped tight in his hand.

  “Hello?” Casey called into the ominous void.

  No answer.

  He reached up and grabbed hold of the railing with one hand and hoisted himself up, keeping his gun hand free. He quickly reached into the darkness and flipped a switch, instantly illuminating the trailer with colorful Christmas lights.

  The two chickens that Sandy had given him in exchange for the medicine walked towards Casey, as if they expected him to feed them. But what startled Casey was that the two chickens had somehow transformed into dozens.

  “What in the…?”

  “Maa-Maa!!!”

  Casey had taken several steps into the trailer, when he heard the sound coming from a large crate behind him and to his right. He spun around, lifting the gun as he did.

  “Maa-Maa!!!”

  God only knew what kind of creature was making the noise. Casey was tempted to simply shoot into the crate without looking first, but caution got the better of him. With the gun held ready, he took hold of the crate’s cover and lifted. The crate, which was about five feet squared, creaked as he opened the lid. Peering inside, he was shocked and taken off guard by what he found.

  “Oh my God!” said Casey, thanking the Lord for staying his hand and not firing blindly into the crate. Staring up at him were two sets of the most innocent eyes ever.

  “Hi mister,” said Sandy, with a big grin. Her lips and tongue were stained blue from the candy that Casey had given her. In her lap rested a young woman’s head, the most beautiful woman that Casey had ever seen. She had dark brown hair and thick, full lips. Her petite body was curled up in the crate and she was breathing heavy. Her brow beaded with sweat and she shook with a fever. Casey immediately realized that she must be the sick mother that he’d heard of.

  On his knees beside the goat, Sam looked up at Casey and said, “Sorry mister, we didn’t know where else to go.”

  “How did you…?”

  “I picked the lock,” answered Sam, without needing to hear the remainder of the question.

  “Why?” asked Casey.

  “Cause he was gonna hurt our mama,” said Sandy, brushing her fingers through her mother’s soft hair.

  “Who was gonna hurt your mom?”

  “His name is Jayson,” said Sam, climbing to his feet. “He owns a bunch of the tents at the park where we met you.”

  “And why would he want to hurt your mother?” asked Casey, reaching down and lifting the boy out of the crate, followed by his goat.

  “Cause he also owns our house,” replied Sam. “And we haven’t been able to make payments for almost a month now.”

  “He said he was gonna take mommy away and make her work it off,” cried Sandy.

  “There, there child,” said Casey softly, patting the top of her head, “everything is gonna be okay. Come on, let me help you out of there,” he added, extending his hands towards Sandy.

  “Okay,” she sniffled, and gently crawled out from under her sleeping mother’s head.

  Casey lifted her out of the crate and reached into his pocket for a piece of candy. He handed it to Sandy who accepted it with a smile. Only this time instead of popping it into her mouth right away, she held onto it, her tiny fingers playing with the edges of the wrapper.

  “So,” said Casey, looking down at Sam, “what’s so bad about this Jayson guy wanting to give your mom a job to pay the rent?”

  “It’s the type of job,” explained Sam, looking protectively at his younger sister. “Besides owning our house and a few others, he also owns a lot of the tents in the market,” he repeated, as if the words should carry some deeper meaning.

  “So?”

  “Including the tent with the fancy curtains and the neon sign,” Sam whispered softly so that Sandy couldn’t hear.

  “Oh, I see,” said Casey nodding his head. “So you thought you’d just run away?”

  “He said he was coming back for our mom tomorrow and putting her to work, whether she was healthy or not!” exclaimed Sam. “And I’m not strong enough to stop him,” he added, looking shamefully at the floor of the trailer.

  “Apparently your strong enough to carry your mom into my trailer,” said Casey, trying to cheer the boy up.

  “I used a wheel barrel,” admitted Sam.

  “I helped too!” added Sandy, her tears all but gone.

  “That’s right,” agreed Sam. “Sandy helped a lot. I couldn’t have done it without her.” He added the last part for his sister’s benefit. Sandy grinned and gingerly began to open the candy wrapper.

  “It takes a big man to rescue his mother and sister,” observed Casey, “especially from the type of man this Jayson fellow appears to be. I think you did alright son,” he added, patting Sam on the back. “Now tell me, why did you choose to climb into the back of my truck? Don’t you have any friends back in Olympia that could help?”

  “Not really,” said Sam.

  “No one like you mister,” added Sandy.

  “What do you mean, ‘no one like me’?”

  “She means that…well…you’re the only person who’s ever been kind to us. Everyone else in town is always trying to take advantage of us because we’re just kids and mom’s been sick for a few weeks now.”

  “You treated us fair and you’re nice,” chimed Sandy, her mouth full of candy.

  “That’s right mister,” agreed Sam. “You and I both know that the medicine you gave us is worth a lot more than two lousy chickens.”

  “Hey!” protested Sandy, holding one of the chickens in her arms and caressing its back, while it struggled to free itself from her loving embrace.

  “It’s true,” said Sam, “and he knows it!” Sam pointed an accusing finger up at Casey.

  “So because I was extra nice, you figured to return the favor by becoming stowaways on my truck?”

  “Yep,” giggled Sandy.

  “Something like that,” agreed Sam. “We weren’t trying to cause you any trouble mister. We just needed to get out of town and hide our mother before Jayson came back. She’s too weak to defend herself,” he added, looking down at her fragile, shivering body.

  “Can you help us mister, please?” Sandy was far too cute to even consider refusing.

  “Of course,” agreed Casey. “The first thing we need to do is move her into the cab where she’ll be more comfortable and I can control the heat. Are these all of your belongings?” he asked, pointing to a couple of small duffle bags at the bottom of the crate.

  “Yeah,” answered Sam. “It’s all we had time to grab.”

  “Alright, here,” said Casey, lifting the duffle bags out of the crate and handing them to Sandy, “you carry these.” The bags were full of clothes and light enough for the little girl to handle.

  “Okeydokey,” she said, excited to help. Sandy slid the straps of the duffle bags over her shoulders, each bag roughly the same size as her.

  “Are you ready?” Casey asked when she appeared to be stable enough to walk.

  “Uh-huh,” she nodded.

  Casey smiled and then reached down and lifted the mother into his arms, carrying her like a baby. “Alright kids, follow me. Sam you close the door behind us and lock it. I’m sure you can handle that since you were able to un-lock it easy enough,” teased Casey with a wink.

  When the
y reached the cab, Sam quickly opened the door and climbed up. He turned around and helped Casey lift his mother inside. Before climbing up himself, Casey bent down and lifted Sandy and the duffle bags up into the cab. After lying the mother down on his bed and covering her with warm blankets, Casey quickly set about making some hot soup.

  “When is the last time you kids ate?” he asked after a few minutes.

  “The day before yesterday,” said Sandy, staring hungrily at the pot of soup.

  “Here ya go.” Casey handed her a bowl of steaming soup. “How many of those pills have you given to your mother?” he asked, referring to the medicine that he’d given the children.

  “Just one so far,” said Sam, anxiously accepting the bowl of soup that Casey handed him.

  “How long ago did you give it to her?”

  Sam glanced at the digital clock on the truck’s dashboard and said, “Over ten hours ago.”

  “It’s time for another one,” said Casey, taking the pills and retrieving a bottle of water from under the passenger seat. He crawled into the back of the cab and closed the separating curtain, leaving the children eating happily in the front seat. He sat down on the bed next to the children’s mother and gently lifted her so that she was sitting upright, leaning against his shoulder.

  “Wake up,” said Casey softly, “it’s time for your medicine.”

  The woman’s eyelids fluttered open and she looked up at Casey. “Who, who are you?” she asked, in a parched voice, her eyes wide with alarm. “Where are my children?”

  “My name is Casey Cooper,” he said. “Your children brought you to me.”

  “Sandy! Sam!” The woman tried to rise, but instead sank back down. She barely had the strength to sit up straight, let alone move.

  “It’s okay,” said Casey, reassuringly. “Your children are here too, safe and sound.” Casey reached forward and pulled the curtain back, revealing the two blonde haired children sitting in the front seat, each with a bowl of hot soup.

  “Thank God,” moaned the woman and Casey could feel her body relax in his arms. “How did they get me here?”

  “I’m not exactly sure,” answered Casey, “but from what I understand, a wheel barrel had something to do with it.”

  “A wheel barrel,” she repeated the words as though she didn’t understand their meaning.

  “I’ve missed you so much Martin,” she said, gazing up at Casey. She didn’t seem to be looking into Casey’s eyes so much as through them. She reached up and touched Casey’s chin. Before he knew what was happening she leaned back and kissed him softly on the lips.

  Casey was shocked and didn’t know how to respond. She was obviously delirious and thought he was someone else. For a brief moment, Casey desperately wanted to be the mystery man named Martin and return her kiss with all his passion, but instead he pulled his lips away from hers and closed the curtain. He didn’t want the children to see the kiss and misunderstand.

  “I’m not Martin,” he said, “but if Martin were here, he’d want you to take your medicine.” The woman nodded and Casey placed a pill on her outstretched tongue. He held the water bottle to her mouth and helped her take a drink. When he was sure the pill was swallowed, he leaned her back down on the bed and covered her with a blanket.

  As he gazed down at the sleeping beauty resting in his bed, all sorts of questions began to creep into his head. What’s her name? Who’s this Martin fellow? Would she remember the kiss in the morning? Casey desperately wanted to know more about the woman, but he knew that what she needed most was sleep, and he intended to give it to her.

  As quietly as possible so as not to wake her, Casey retracted the curtain and climbed back into the front seat with the children. He poured himself a bowl of the hot, delicious soup, scooped a spoonful of the broth and gently blew on it, before taking a sip. It was good, very good. Casey suddenly realized how hungry he was, as he shoveled spoonful after spoonful into his mouth.

  When they were finished eating he looked down at the children and realized how tired they must be. Their eyes were heavy with exhaustion and they both kept yawning. It was only a matter of time before they passed out. “How was it?” he asked, referring to the soup.

  “Yummy,” said Sandy.

  “Thank you,” added Sam, nodding his head in agreement.

  “Sure,” replied Casey, smiling down at the children. “What about your goat and chickens? Do they need to be fed something too?”

  “We already fed them,” answered Sandy, proudly.

  “Wonderful,” said Casey, glad that the task didn’t fall to him. “Then let’s get some sleep,” he added, reaching up and closing the curtains to the cab. Sam curled up on the passenger seat with a blanket wrapped around him, while Sandy snuggled in next to Casey.

  Casey wasn’t used to taking care of children or having one snuggled up against his body, but as he reached for another blanket, he realized how much he liked it. Pulling the blanket over them, he tucked the edge under Sandy’s chin. He left the engine running so as to keep a constant flow of heat inside the cab, despite the extra fuel cost. The last thing that Casey thought of before drifting off to sleep, were the animals in the back of his truck and all of the excrement that he’d find in the morning. He wasn’t looking forward to cleaning up the mess.

  Evacuation

  World War III – Day Three

  San Diego, California

  Beth awoke with a start. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and sat up on the cot, as a yawn escaped from her lips. Duke was curled up in a ball on the floor next to her. When she moved he lifted his head and gazed up at her. From outside she could hear the rumbling of vehicles as they passed by.

  “Do you hear that?”

  Duke yawned and stretched his paws out in front of him. He licked his lips and then curled into a tighter ball, once again resting his head on his paws.

  Beth stood up and slowly walked over to one of the windows. The concrete floor beneath her bare feet felt cold and sent shivers down her spine.

  I should have brought my slippers down here with me.

  She pushed one of the storage boxes under the window and climbed on top of it. Gazing out the window from ground level she watched, as one truck after another passed by. A man’s voice on a loud speaker was shouting instructions.

  “I’ll be right back,” Beth told Duke, as she climbed down from the box. “You stay here and guard our supplies.” She slid the .357 Magnum into her pocket and slowly climbed the steps towards the kitchen.

  Duke yipped playfully before sitting down on the rug at the foot of the steps. He wagged his tail joyfully. Whatever game they were playing, Duke was having a blast.

  Beth opened the door leading from the basement to the kitchen and peered out. She wheezed and immediately covered her nose, as the stench of rotten eggs filled her nostrils. She and Duke had taken shelter so quickly that she’d completely forgotten about her meal left uneaten.

  The food was still laid out on the TV tray in the living room, right where she’d left it. Several flies were resting on the half eaten toast with a dozen more swarming above. The bowl of oatmeal had hardened and turned from golden-brown to bluish-grey. A few more flies crawled across the small pile of scrambled eggs, which stank to high heaven.

  “Oh dear,” gasped Beth, disgusted by the foul odor.

  Pinching her nose shut Beth chased away the flies and picked up the remainder of food, tossing it into the trash can. She then made her way around the house opening some windows to let in fresh air. A small gasp escaped from her mouth when she reached the kitchen window and found it already open.

  “I must have forgotten to close this one,” she murmured to herself, realizing it was probably how the flies had gotten inside the house.

  Standing in front of the window, Beth gazed out at the Pacific Ocean. A flock of seagulls glided above the foamy surf, searching for their next meal. The systematic sound of waves crashing against the rocky cliffs was both mesmerizing and peaceful. She fi
lled her lungs with a deep breath of fresh air and watched as the sea rolled in and out, caressing the sandy beach. The salty air brought a smile to her face. Further out to sea Beth could see a thick mist approaching the coast, as wind carried in the marine layer.

  For just an instant Beth thought that she saw something in the fog, but then it disappeared. She continued to gaze into the mist and after a moment saw a brief flicker of movement. Once again the image disappeared into the fog. It seemed as though something was approaching the shoreline using the mist for cover.

  Beth quickly retrieved a pair of binoculars and peered out towards the sea. She slowly scanned the horizon from left to right and then back again. After a few minutes of searching, Beth found the image that she’d glimpsed. The closer the fog came to the coast, the more it began to break up and dissolve. From out of the mist, hundreds of ships began to appear. There were so many they couldn’t be counted. Using the binoculars Beth tried to zoom in on them, searching for any type of marking that might clarify their country of origin.

  She continued to scan the ocean for a moment before turning her attention to the beachhead. Beth was so startled by what she saw that she almost dropped the binoculars. Located on the sandy beach were thousands of American soldiers. They frantically dug foxholes and bunkers, preparing the beach for an assault. Hundreds of tanks and armored vehicles dotted the shoreline, as soldiers scurried about taking up defensive positions.

  “Oh my God!” cried out Beth, horrified by what was happening only a few miles from her house.

  The sky above was suddenly filled with the roar of aircraft, as a squadron of F-35 fighter jets flew by. They were headed out to sea in combat formation. Beth quickly focused the binoculars on the fighters and was pleased to see an American flag painted to the side of each jet. While she watched from the safety of her kitchen the fighter jets immediately dove and engaged the enemy, targeting the transport ships approaching the coast.

  It didn’t take long before the Americans were joined in the sky by Russian and Chinese fighters, launched from nearby aircraft carriers. The sky became illuminated with bursts of fire as one jet after another exploded and fell into the sea below. While some of the American fighters continued to attack the incoming troop transports, others broke off and went after the larger ships. The dog fighting in the sky above was so intense it blotted out part of the sun.