by Roger Hayden
Two police officers from the north side fired upon Paul, missing both times. The gun shots jolted him, further realizing the suicidal nature of his mission. He ran down the very familiar alleyway that he had seen before. It was dumb luck on his part, but he gave no dispute. Taken aback, the police scrambled to chase Paul, but he had made it far down the alleyway before they came to their senses.
He ran to the door known to him and pounded on it fervently. The police, three of them, descended quickly down the narrow path towards him, past the dumpsters and upright barrels that aligned the alley. The door swung open, revealing Arthur in his disheveled and wary state.
"You again?" he asked.
"Let me in, quick, the cops are chasing me," Paul stammered.
Arthur backed up in a resistant manner.
"What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?" he asked.
"Just let me in, I have information about everything!" Paul said.
Arthur peeked outside and saw the police charging towards them, though his back alley door was behind a large green dumpster and neither Paul nor Arthur could be seen.
"Alright, come in, but, so help me God, you better not get me shot."
Paul ran in as Arthur shut the metal door and applied the many deadbolts. He quickly knelt down to spy through the lower mail slot in the door. He watched as legs ran past the door in a fury. Arthur rose to his feet and proceeded to interrogate.
"What is it now, my friend? Did you find your wife?"
Paul held the laptop proudly in his arms, and pushed Arthur aside, ignoring his direct questioning.
"Just listen to me for a moment. Are you able to broadcast yet?" Paul asked.
Arthur thought to himself, trying to figure out what Paul wanted and why he had burst into his studio in such labored haste.
"It depends. What are you doing here?" he asked.
Paul held up the laptop like a glittering prize.
"What you said earlier, about the airport and the secret society, it's true. I have Senator Bryant's laptop, he's trying to create World War Three, and we have to stop him."
Arthur took a step back and examined Paul closely. His visitor was smeared with blood on his forehead and his hands. Arthur wanted to keep it low-key and here was this man bringing the police right to him.
"You went to the airport?" Arthur asked.
"Yes, I did. I found my wife. She was in a bunker with Senator Bryant. She escaped and stole his laptop. There's enough information on this thing to expose the entire conspiracy. Bryant engineered the nuclear attacks with some sort of organization he belongs to. They set up the entire thing and I have the evidence!"
"I have to say, I'm not surprised," Arthur said, clearing his throat.
"We don't have much time. The police are surrounding the building as we speak. We have to broadcast this information before it's too late," Paul said with conviction.
Arthur held his hand up in resistance.
"Just hold on a minute here, Paul. I don't even know if I can send anything out, and even if I could, what difference would it make?"
"People need to know the truth!" Paul shouted. "I left my wife and daughter to come here. The media has labeled us terrorists, all because of the information we have. We have to get it out there!"
"You don't understand. I've been talking about people like Senator Bryant for years. People don't care about those kinds of thing anymore. After the nuclear attacks everyone is just trying to stay alive. What you have on that laptop doesn't amount to a hill of beans," Arthur said.
A sudden pounding came upon the door followed by shouts from the police. Paul jumped as Arthur looked on. His apprehension about letting Paul into the building was verified. He had made a mistake, and now there was no turning back.
"This is it, Paul, they're on to us now. Is this what you wanted? Now we'll both end up in the gulags with the others, all for what, because of some laptop?"
"The megabomb, it's real. Bryant and his people set it up. The plan was to have terrorists transport the bomb and then intercept it from them. The various nationalities of the terrorists would then be used to further wage war against a slew of countries around the world, decimating the American military force, thus rendering it a powerless country. It's part of their global order, and it's all on this laptop."
"I'm aware of their lofty ambitions, but even I have a hard time believing they could pull it off like this," Arthur said.
"They haven't pulled it off. They lost control. The terrorist group is off the map, and they're going to use the bomb. They're going to detonate the megabomb. We have to stop them, I don't care how, but we've got to try," Paul pleaded.
"Reports of that missing bomb have the entire city in a frenzy. If we confirm that officials in the U.S. government willingly armed terrorists with a nuclear bomb over the air, I don't know what the people will do, but it's not going to be pretty."
"We don't have a choice," Paul said. "The people have to know."
"Do you know which terrorist group has the bomb? Do you know where and when they plan to deploy it?" Arthur asked.
"Senator Bryant has to know. If we get the word out, turn the heat up on him then we can get closer to finding the bomb."
Only Paul had no clue that the good Senator was already dead.
"This is insane," Arthur said. "And coming from me, that's quite an overstatement."
"Just give me five minutes, let me show you what's on this laptop. Please, Arthur, you're my only hope."
Paul followed Arthur into the radio studio in haste. He had little time to go into all the intricate details, so he simply opened the laptop and files, and gave Arthur a glimpse into the vast conspiracy that Arthur, in all his years of railing against the government, couldn't have imagined if he tried.
"This says everything. If I didn't see it for myself, I would have never believed it."
Arthur took a minute to read through some of the files. There were correspondent emails between Senator Bryant and his contacts about specific times and locations for the nuclear strikes, one of the key locations involving Washington D.C. It was almost too much to take in, but the severity of the situation shook him the core. Either Senator Bryant had wild and deplorable fantasies that frighteningly mirrored real life or he was a part of the entire thing.
"Can you broadcast this on the air?" Paul asked straightforwardly.
"I might be able to, if you would give me a minute," Arthur said with frustration.
He messed around with wires and connections for minutes as banging came to the front door, startling both of them.
"They're right outside the door now. Are we good to go yet, or what?" Paul asked.
"Hold on a damn minute!" Arthur shouted. "I've been trying to go live for weeks now. It's not just going to happen in a flash."
The banging continued. The police had a door battering ram in their midst and used it to repeatedly club the front door of the studio while Paul and Arthur scrambled.
"Okay, I think I have it. They've been blocking frequencies for some time now, but we should be able to get this out there," Arthur said as sweat poured from his forehead.
The bashing upon the door grew louder. The police were close to storming the room and snatching Arthur and Paul like common criminals.
"Go. Speak, dammit, speak," Arthur said after pressing a mess of buttons on the control panel.
"Is this going out?" Paul asked. "I don't want to be talking to dead air."
Arthur ran from the mixing board into the studio, nearly at the point of a nervous breakdown.
"It's as good as it's going to get, just say your piece, quickly!"
Paul leaned into the microphone and spoke as the battering outside thundered within the studio.
"If anyone is listening to this, ignore the news broadcasts because I have the truth. Senator Bryant of Colorado is part of a massive conspiracy to destroy the United States with nuclear bombs in strategically selected areas. They're a group that call themselve
s The Masterminds. They had it all planned out. They stole a nuclear bomb, known as the megabomb, and lost track of it with a rouge terrorist group in New York City. The terrorist group is currently traveling with the bomb with the intent to use it. We can stop this. I don't know where they plan to detonate it, but if everyone looks for these people we can stop them. They say that the megabomb will take up to five states out at once when they detonate it. We have to find it before it's too late."
Just then, the door to the studio burst open with an army of swat team members at the helm. They stormed down the hall with their weapons drawn, ready to capture Paul--the suspected terrorist--and take him in. As their hustling footsteps grew louder, Paul screamed into the microphone in one last gasp.
"Senator Bryant! He's the key to everything. His group is living in a bunker underneath the Denver airport. They know everything. This is the truth. It's the only thing we have left. My name is Paul Thompson, I'm nobody, but my wife came across this information because she was there. Her name is Samantha. The media have labeled us terrorists, but they're lying. They're lying to each and every one of you. The megabomb is in the hands of the real terrorists and I suspect they're going to try to attack the West Coast very soon. We, the American people, must stop this. We've suffered enough, but if this bomb goes off, there's no going back."
Arthur monitored the switchboard nervously as he heard the sounds of police barreling into the studio, shouting at them to get on the ground. Paul raised his hands in the air and moved to the floor. The show was over.
Ammon's "Brotherhood" had set up camp in Austin, Texas. If Sacha suspected anything, it was that Austin was their final stop. The mere mention of Texas by Ammon had Sacha thinking. Ammon claimed to not know more than a snippet of their plan, but the minute he mentioned Texas, Sacha knew they planned to deploy the bomb there. To take out the largest and one of the most populated states in the country made perfect sense. Who knew how many surrounding states would perish as well.
They parked--one semi-trailer and two vans--at a deserted rest stop outside the city limits and remained there for days, quiet and patient. The mood had changed as the days past, but their new collective excitement led Sacha to believe that the plan was growing into fruition. They prayed constantly, and seemed to be closer than ever to achieving some type of magnanimous goal. Ammon approached Sacha and inquired him about his inevitable conversion.
"Now's the time my friend."
"For what?" Sacha asked.
"For you to denounce your religious upbringing and join us in the afterlife. It won't take long. Just a simple ceremony."
"What are you planning to do?" Sacha asked. "Are you detonating the bomb?"
Ammon smiled in his familiar manner.
"Maybe we are, maybe we aren't. I told you that our plan is only known to a few. We can't risk compromise at any level."
"I'm totally on-board, Ammon," Sacha said. "I would just like to know what is going on."
"Only Rashad truly knows," Ammon responded.
Sacha looked past the semi-trailer to see Rashad talking intensely with the others. He had a small burlap sack over his shoulder. Sacha surmised it to be the detonator switch without a doubt. The mannerisms of the group told him they had come this far to finish the job. He had to get to Rashad and get the controller before they enacted their plan. He approached the group with sincere friendliness. Rashad took immediate notice of him. The Austin sun was just over the horizon, giving a mirage of pocketed heat slowly rising above the pavement. Ammon hadn't finished talking with Sacha and was taken aback by his abrupt departure. Rashad was in the middle of a lively story told in his native Arabic tongue as Sacha approached him. The others took no real mind of him, and listened intently as Rashad continued. He was in the middle of telling a story about a man trying to travel to Mecca and enduring foolish hardship the entire way. The character was in similar vain to Charlie Chaplin; a love-struck hobo trying to win a girl's affection. Only this time, the man had to choose between his supposed true love and completing the journey to Mecca. In the middle of the story, Sacha approached.
"Can I help you?" Rashad asked.
The others in the group stared down Sacha suspiciously. He had gotten uncomfortably close to their leader, but they never thought him to pose much of a threat.
"I would like to ask you a quick question," Sacha replied.
"What is it?" Rashad asked.
Sacha drew close, nearly touching him.
"I just wanted to know how long we're staying here."
Rashad laughed heartedly to no end. His long beard shook with his laughter as he cradled to the ground. He rose with a hand on Sacha's shoulder.
"You really shouldn't worry about such things, but I can assure you that we're not going anywhere for a while. You might even say that this is our last stop."
With that, Sacha jerked forward and swiped the satchel off of Rashad's shoulder. The guerrillas and the others immediately circled Sacha in a fury. Sacha backed away from Rashad and fished out the controller device in the bag. Once he pulled it out, he held it up in a threatening manner.
"Back the fuck off, all of you! Was this your plan? Did you think that I was just going to let you do it?" Sacha yelled.
The group nearly charged Sacha when Rashad raised a hand in the air, signaling them to halt.
"Now, Sacha, I don't know what kind of impression you've gotten from us, but I think you're terribly mistaken," Rashad said calmly.
"You've been driving this fucking bomb across America with the intent to use it. But I have the controller now and I'm going to destroy it."
Sacha raised the controller into the air and flung it down on the ground violently with a series of kicks to the device that broke it into pieces. With heavy, panting breaths, Sacha looked to the shocked group before him.
"I'm not going to let you do it. Do what you want to me, but I'm not going to let this happen," he said.
Rashad gave Sacha a curious look just as Ammon approached with a similar device in his hand.
"I apologize, I guess you were all right about Sacha after all," he said. He then looked to Sacha and spoke ominously.
"They long suspected that when the test of true loyalty came, you would turn against us. They warned me, but I saw something in you from the first time we met. You looked scared and alone. My feelings got in the way. I wanted to help you. In the process I failed my brothers."
Ammon looked Sacha squarely in the eyes with a wounded expression.
"I must say, I'm hurt by your actions. Not surprised, but hurt. You were never one of us, and it was foolish of me to try to change that. But you were right. That's why we gave Rashad the decoy controller, to see who the true traitor was."
Sacha stared at the mess of plastic and wires below his feet as the Brotherhood encircled him.
"You can't do this. Ammon, please, don't do this," Sacha pleaded.
Ammon approached him with astute assurance.
"Sacha, my friend, it's already done."
As he finished his words, Ammon pressed a red button on the controller module. Sacha heard the whirring mechanisms of the bomb in the trailer next to them. A flash of light followed and then there was nothing.
Paul's broadcast had ended. Three police stood overhead as he knelt on the grown with his hands behind his head. The lights on their rifles blinded him, but he did his best to comply.
"Now get on your stomach!" the officer shouted.
Arthur recoiled behind his switchboard, trying to stay out of sight, but the police had already seen him. Paul carefully moved his hands and slowly went to the ground. As soon as his face felt the tile, a boot pushed onto his back, holding him there. Paul looked across the floor and saw Arthur in the same position. He gave Arthur a saddened smile that said, "We tried."
"Put your arms behind your back," the officer continued.
Paul moved his arms uncomfortably to his back as the officer furthered his instructions.
"Keep your fingers out and
your palms showing."
Just as the handcuffs went over his wrist and clicked, a rumbling came like a small tremor of an earthquake. The building shook and bits of insulation fell from the ceiling. The police officers looked around in confusion as the vibration grew louder and louder to the then massive rumbling of a tidal wave. There was intense heat followed by an avalanche of nuclear flare jettisoning throughout the studio in a violent, sweeping burst that reduced it to ash. Thousands of lives erased in the blink of an eye.
Samantha and Julie felt a ground tremor from inside the cavern. Dust and pebbles fell from above, startling them. Samantha had a premonition, a sick premonition that something awful was happening.
"Move in back of the cave," she told Julie as they stood up.
Julie looked at her like she was crazy.
"Why would we go further into a cave that's falling apart? We'll be crushed."
Samantha was undeterred by Julie's concern, and pulled her along. She knew. She could feel it in her insides. The rumbling was from the bomb. The bastards had detonated the bomb.
"Run!" she yelled to Julie while pulling her along deeper and deeper in the cavern. The light from her flashlight bounced violently along their path. The ground shook more forcefully as Samantha realized she was going to have to make a choice.
"We can die in here, or we can die out there," she thought.
The narrow path twisted and turned as the ceiling got lower and lower. They Samantha crouched with every hurried step as the air become more damp and restrictive. They came to a point where Samantha couldn't move any longer, so she sat against the wall breathing heavily with Julie in one hand and her flickering flashlight in the other. The vibrations got heavier and it seemed as the entire cavern felt as though it was going to crash in. Samantha couldn't hold back the tears from squeezing out of her shut eyelids.