World War Forever (Highway To Armageddon Book 2)

by Harold Bloemer

  “As much as it pains me to admit it, Lance is right,” Boom Boom tacitly admits. “In order for this mission to succeed… in order for us to bring peace to the world… the president must die.”

  “The former president, you mean,” Alex says.

  “In her mind she’s still the president,” Boom Boom says in between sips of her champagne. “And in the minds of a lot of the American people, too. Hell, I’m sure China still thinks of her as our president. LeBeau is nothing but an empty suit.”

  I finish the rest of my drink while my mind wanders. Grenade was only partially right during his toast. This may in fact be a new beginning for us, but it’s about to be the ultimate end game for Angela Klaxton. Ding dong, the bitch will die.

  Chapter Seven: Boom Boom

  “So when did Klaxton first show up?” I ask River while sipping my glass of champagne. Ten minutes have passed since we escaped from Pitbull’s hellish compound, and my nerves have finally started to settle down.

  Alex and I are sitting on the bolted-down couch on the right side of the cabin. River and Lance are sitting on a couch on the opposite side. Krystal is still in the cockpit, singing along to some rap song she’s listening to through her visor. And Grenade is off to the side, sitting at a table while smoking his cigar and scowling menacingly. That’s his favorite thing to do, I’ve learned over these past few days: scowling and growling. And the funny thing is, I actually find it charming when he does that. Scowls and growls suit Grenade, just like profanity and crude comments suit Krystal.

  River drinks some of her champagne and grimaces for a moment, still reeling from the beating she suffered at Pitbull’s deranged hands. My concern for her is tempered by my jealousy. I’ve seen the way Lance looks at her, and the way she looks at him. They barely know each other and yet I already detect the initial sparks of a blossoming romance. I don’t know why that irritates me. I guess I still have feelings for Lance. I probably always will. But we’re no good for each other. We’re complete opposites. He’s brash and unpredictable. I’m overly cautious and conservative. We’re too emotionally damaged to have a healthy relationship. Our history runs too deep… it’s too personal. It’s best that we see other people. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself.

  I ignore all the distracting noise echoing around inside my skull and focus with rapt attention on what River is about to say. Any information we can squeeze out of her will only help with our mission.

  Clutching her bruise ribs, River replies, “She showed up a couple months ago. It was the same day she was removed from power. She landed outside our village in a plane similar to this one.”

  Lance and I briefly make eye contact. The last time we saw Klaxton, she was zooming through the sky in some sort of computerized winged exoskeleton. This tidbit of information would imply she landed somewhere and boarded a plane before heading down to the Amazon. That means she had some help. Which means she still has supporters, probably entrenched deep inside our political system. Sleeper agents. For the first time since this entire mess began, I grow concerned for President LeBeau’s safety. I can only hope she surrounded herself with people she can trust.

  Unaware of my internalizing, River continues. “We have seen her several times over the years, of course. She always liked to visit our village, often in secret. She said it was one of the few places she felt comfortable… where she felt at peace. She loved the fresh jungle air, the isolation, the fact that no one in my tribe was impressed with her title of President of the United States. We treated her as an equal… nothing more, nothing less. I could tell she liked that. She respected us for that. She also said on many occasions that we were some of the few people she could trust. Which I always found silly. I mean, why would we turn our backs on her? She was the one who protected us. She was our savior. But like I said, we didn’t give her any preferential treatment. We knew we owed her our lives… our livelihoods… but we treated her like a regular, normal human being. We treated her as if she were a member of our tribe. One of us. And she loved that.”

  “That must be why she felt comfortable coming to you guys in her time of need,” Lance says in a discreet attempt to coax even more information out of River. We’re basically interrogating River without her knowing it. This is the way you gather intelligence, not the barbaric method Pitbull uses. Not the barbaric method we used on Pocahontas. I wish I could get her tortured screams out of my mind, but I can’t. It’s the price I must pay for our deplorable actions, I suppose.

  “Yeah, she loves us all to death,” River says, her words starting to slur a bit. All the alcohol we keep plying her with is definitely keeping the spigot running, so to speak. “But that night she landed… I’ll never forget the look on her face. She seemed defeated… devastated… I could tell she had been crying. It was like her whole world had fallen apart. But she wouldn’t go into much detail. All she said was that she had been forced from power, that she had to go into hiding. We were honored, of course, that she immediately thought of us. We hid her in a hut for several weeks, keeping an eye out for the American soldiers we were sure would come. But no one ever did. After about a month she started to relax. She’s finally starting to smile and laugh again.”

  I glance over at Lance and notice him struggling to keep his emotions in check. I know I am. The thought that Klaxton has been living it up in the jungle, having a grand ole time while the rest of the world burns as a result of her actions, makes me sick to no end. Not to mention she was the one who helped kill Arrow. She may not have been the one to electrocute him, but she was standing next to Rasputin when he did it. God I hate that bitch. I would love nothing more than to carve out her heart and shove it up her…

  “Are you okay?” River asks me.

  I unclench my fist and clear my throat. “Huh? Er, yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

  “You were grinding your teeth and your face got all red. You looked like you wanted to punch someone.”

  Lance laughs. “She always looks like that. This is actually Boom Boom being friendly. You should see her when she’s really angry. She’s scary as hell.”

  “Thanks, Lance,” I say through gritted teeth.

  Blowing smoke rings into the air, Grenade asks, “Did Klaxton say anything else about the night she had to leave? Anything about who forced her from power?”

  We all wait to see how River responds. I’m assuming Klaxton didn’t talk too much about us. If she had, River would have immediately recognized us for what we are… a threat to Klaxton’s safety. But I can tell from River’s interaction with us that she doesn’t suspect a thing. Either that, or she’s a phenomenal actress. I’m going to assume the former over the latter.

  River confirms this by saying, “No. She didn’t want to talk about it, and we never pressed her. She does keep talking about how she needs to return to power, though. She says she needs to bide her time… lay low for a while. She says she’s the only one who can bring peace to the world.”

  “She said that, huh?” I say in disbelief. “Does she have a game plan? A strategy?”

  “If she does, she hasn’t shared it with us,” River replies. “Whatever she decides to do, my tribesmen and I will stand by her side. If she needs us to accompany her back to Washington and take the White House by force, then that’s what we’ll do.”

  Lance chuckles, causing River to frown.

  Lance notices River’s displeasure with him and tries to un-piss her off. “I didn’t mean to offend you or anything, but… well, you and your tribe are armed with arrows and spears. You guys don’t have any guns, or ammo, or planes, or flying cars. How would you be able to help Klaxton get back to Washington, let alone invade the White House?”

  Suppressing another grimace of pain (I noticed her bottom lip quivering), River replies, “You obviously don’t know everything, smarty-pants. Years ago Angela had a secret facility built deep in the heart of the Amazon, several miles from our village. It contains dozens of planes, flying cars, and fighter jets, along with a bu
nch of guns and ammunition. Angela had secret facilities like this built all over North and South America, in case something ever happened and she had to go into hiding. She wanted to make sure she’d have the tools necessary to reclaim power if it was ever taken from her.”

  “Wait a minute,” Alex says, confused. “If you guys are sitting on a massive stockpile of weapons, why not use them against your rivals? Why not use them against us when we ambushed you yesterday?”

  “Let’s not give her any wise ideas,” Lance cracks.

  “We decided long ago we would only use our stockpile of modern weapons for existential emergencies,” River says, clutching her side. “Angela didn’t want us to give away the facility’s location, and it would be pretty obvious something was up if a bunch of ‘jungle people’ were seen running around with machine guns and grenade launchers.”

  From the way River said ‘jungle people’, I can tell she’s not too fond of the perception foreigners have of the residents of the Amazon. I suppose I’d be pretty pissed off, too, if everyone automatically assumed I was some illiterate savage who had no knowledge of the outside world. It’s obvious River and her fellow natives are more intelligent, cunning, and savvy than most people give them credit for. I’m starting to understand why they have such reverence for a cold-hearted monster like Klaxton. She treats them as they truly are, not the primitive stereotype the outside world has labeled them with.

  “You don’t consider all the threats you face ‘existential’ ones?” Alex asks. “If I had rival natives attacking me from one side, illegal loggers and wildlife traffickers coming at me from the other side, and a bunch of mercenaries bum-rushing me all over the place, I’d pull out all the stops to protect my friends and family.”

  “As a matter of fact, we do take these threats seriously,” River says coolly. “Right before I left to hash out a truce with the Ashaninka, my father, Thiago, was preparing a contingent force to launch a surprise assault, with those very weapons, against a farm not too far from our village.”

  “Farm?” Grenade growls. “What farm?”

  River’s face darkens. In a voice trembling not from fear, but from barely suppressed anger, River says, “A genocidal maniac by the name of Salvador Ramirez has built a massive farm a few miles downstream from our village. The new American president rescinded legislation that put a moratorium on logging and farming in the Amazon. In just the past couple months, dozens of acres of rainforest have been razed to the ground, the trees harvested by lumber companies and the land used to grow crops and raise cattle, just like in the old days. And the wildlife traffickers, they have started swarming our home like locusts, poaching any and all tropical creatures. We never had to worry about stuff like this when Angela was president, but this new president has brought the past back into the present.

  “Foreigners from all over North America have invaded our once tranquil land, but Ramirez is by far the worst. He has over 100 men working for him, and they are just as sadistic as he is. Dozens of our women and children have disappeared, and we suspect they are being held at his farm, used as sex slaves. As you can imagine, my father, a man of immense integrity and honor, has had enough. He is preparing to launch an attack on the farm sometime in the next few days… to liberate our people and to burn that farm… that cancerous tumor… to the ground.”

  Grenade nods approvingly. “I like the way you talk, girl.”

  “Perhaps we can help you guys,” Lance says.

  I glare at Lance and mouth ‘What are you doing?’ I seriously have no idea what the hell he’s trying to pull. Is he attempting to impress River with his bravado? We have to remain focused! We can’t get side-tracked with delusions of grandeur. We don’t have the time or the resources to help River and her tribe, as much as we might like to. In fact, once our true intentions are revealed, River and her people are going to want to kill us just as badly as they want to slaughter Ramirez and his goons.

  Lance ignores me and says, “That is, if you want our help.”

  River’s eyes light up. “We would love your help!”

  Alex whispers to me, “You okay? You seem tense?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I say, brushing him off. “I’m just tired. I haven’t slept much these past few days. It’s starting to catch up with me.”

  I turn toward the cockpit and shout, “Hey Krystal, how much longer until we reach River’s village?”

  “Another 30 minutes or so!” Krystal hollers back.

  Grenade withdraws a deck of cards from his jacket. “More than enough time for a few rounds of poker. You down to play, Lance?”

  “You already know it,” Lance says. He glances at River and asks, “You want to play, too?”

  “I’ve never played card games before,” River says, watching Grenade as he shuffles the deck.

  “Here, let me show you how,” Lance says, offering his hand.

  River smiles and grabs his hand, allowing Lance to pull her to her feet. I watch in thinly veiled disgust as Lance leads his newest crush to the table and pulls out a chair.

  “He never pulled out a chair for me,” I grumble. I know Alex heard me, but to his credit he doesn’t comment.

  Still shuffling the deck, Grenade says, “You can play, too, Alex. The more, the merrier.”

  Alex shakes his head. “No thanks. I’m just going to sit here and relax for a while.”

  Lance snorts. “Figures a pretty-boy like you wouldn’t know how to play a real man’s game.”

  I watch in mild amusement as Alex clenches his fist and grinds his teeth. “I know how to play poker. In fact, I could wipe the floor with you, if I was so inclined.”

  Lance turns around in his seat and says, “Oh yeah? Talk is cheap, chump. Prove it.”

  “Fine, I will… chump.”

  Alex storms over to the table and plops down in between Grenade and Lance. Lance and Alex continue glaring at each other as Grenade passes out the cards. Lance’s open hostility toward Alex reminds me of how he behaved around Arrow. Whenever he thinks I’ve taken a liking to another guy, he immediately starts treating that person like shit. It would almost be cute if we were kids. But we’re adults, so it comes across as immature and pathetic. Still, I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I do enjoy seeing Lance get jealous from time to time.

  “You wanna play, too, Boom?” Grenade asks while lighting up another one of his nasty cigars. “Wouldn’t want ya to feel left out.”

  “I’m good,” I say, laying down on the couch. “I need to rest my eyes for a few minutes.”

  And that’s precisely what I do… close my eyes and attempt to clear my mind. I’m so freaking exhausted that I feel like I could sleep for days and days. But I can’t. We’re about to delve into the most important mission of our lives. I can’t sleep too long… we’ll be at our destination here shortly… but a few minutes won’t hurt. I just need a little sleep… just a little rest…

  *

  When I wake up, I immediately wonder how long I’ve been sleeping. I rub my eyes and roll onto my back. I can hear Lance, Alex, and Grenade talking loudly and excitedly. From the sounds of it, River just beat them all with a full house.

  I pull my visor down over my eyes and glance at the flashing clock on the bottom. Looks like I’ve only been out for ten minutes. It seems much longer. At least, the dream I had seemed to last far longer than ten minutes. I was being chased by a bunch of gangbangers. I ran into a dark alley that turned out to be a dead end. I turned around and pointed my gun at the dozens of gangsters closing in on me. I pulled the trigger and mowed them down. But more kept coming. No matter how many gangbangers I killed, dozens more would pop up out of seemingly nowhere. And I kept hearing a weird beeping sound. It wasn’t coming from my gun. It was coming from beneath me… like the sound of a ticking bomb. Beep… beep…beep… beep. It was so weird… it’s almost like I can still hear it.

  Beep… beep… beep… beep…

  Wait a minute… I think I really do hear something.

  Bee
p… beep… beep…

  That incessant beeping sound… it’s so faint, I never would have heard it if I hadn’t been lying here quietly, trying to clear my head.

  Beep… beep… beep… beep…

  What the hell is that? It’s starting to annoy the fuck out of me.

  I keep perfectly quiet and strain my ears to try and detect where the beeping noise is coming from. I have trouble at first, especially when Lance and Alex start shouting at each other about lord knows what.

  Beep… beep… beep… beep…

  It sounds like it’s coming from beneath me, just like in my dream.

  I slide onto the floor and look underneath the couch. I don’t see anything at first, just some dust bunnies and discarded candy wrappers. Grenade really needs to sweep and mop in here; it’s disgusting.

  I’m just about to stand up when I notice a light flashing above my head.

  I crawl halfway under the couch and roll onto my back. Directly above me is a small, rectangular, steel-gray box with a flashing timer. The timer says 3:55… then 3:54… 3:53… and every time it ticks down a second, that irritating beeping sound rings out. Now that I’m mere inches from it, it’s almost deafening.