World War III

by Heath Jannusch

  “Go get ‘em boys!” shouted Beth from her kitchen window. “This is better than television,” she added, as she watched the battle unfold before her eyes.

  Beth’s attention was drawn away from the spectacle above by the blaring sound of a man’s voice speaking through a loud speaker in front of her house. She set the binoculars down on the kitchen table and hurried through her living room to the front door. Opening the door, Beth peered out and saw an armored Humvee with a loud speaker attached to its roof. Following behind the Humvee was a convoy of a dozen or so large military trucks and several city buses.

  With the exception of the city buses the vehicles were all of a military make and model. However instead of green or camouflage, each of them was painted black. The American flag was also missing and in its place was the black footprint of a bear. The footprint of the bear had a red circle around it with two horizontal lines on either side. Underneath the emblem were the words, Blackwater Security Consulting.

  “Mercenaries,” mumbled Beth, as goose bumps appeared all over her body.

  Men dressed in body armor and carrying machine guns walked alongside the vehicles. The mercenaries wore black and tan uniforms, each with a patch sewn into the sleeve matching the bear print emblem on the armored vehicles. Unlike the typical American soldier, these men were not clean cut or shaven. Many of them had facial hair and appeared unruly and disheveled.

  “Attention all citizens,” announced a man riding in the passenger seat of the Humvee, “the city of San Diego is being evacuated. Please grab only what you can carry and climb on board one of the trucks or buses. It’s not safe to stay in your homes. I repeat, it is not safe to stay here. We will take you to food and shelter,” promised the man, before repeating the message.

  “What is the meaning of this?” demanded Beth as one of the mercenaries approached her, walking across her front lawn and stomping through her bed of roses. Without a word of explanation or warning, the man forcibly began to push Beth towards one of the buses.

  “Stop pushing me!” exclaimed Beth. “What would your mother think about the way you’re treating an old woman?”

  Beth glanced up and down the street as she was escorted towards the convoy of vehicles. She was appalled by the sight of her neighbors being forced from their homes and herded like cattle into the trucks and buses. Many of the civilians objected, wanting instead to stay in their homes. But their protests fell on deaf ears and the Blackwater mercenaries continued to funnel them into the trucks and buses. Like Beth, many of the people hadn’t even been given the opportunity to pack an overnight bag or bring anything with them.

  “Get on the bus ma’am,” instructed one of the hired soldiers.

  “I can’t,” argued Beth. “I left my dog Duke down in the basement.”

  “Sorry ma’am,” replied the soldier without compassion, as he forced Beth into the bus. “No pets allowed, just people.” The soldier then turned abruptly and joined his comrades in herding more people onto the bus.

  Beth was pushed into an empty seat near the front of the bus where she curled up against the window. She watched helplessly, as her neighbors were systematically herded together and forced into one of the vehicles. The sight brought back flashbacks of video footage she’d seen from World War II. Footage of the Nazis’ loading Jews into rail cars and then shipping them off to concentration camps.

  Beth watched as the newlywed couple from down the street were forced from their home. The young woman screamed in horror, as mercenaries dragged her from the house and across her front yard. Her husband suddenly appeared in the doorway, his face full of rage. In his hands he held a 12 gauge, pump shotgun.

  “Let her go!” he demanded, pointing the shotgun directly at the men who held his wife captive.

  Suddenly and without warning violence erupted all around them as the enemy’s fleet of destroyers began targeting the coast with their large cannons. Shell after shell exploded throughout the neighborhood causing chaos and panic. The sound of gunfire abruptly filled the air, as several Blackwater mercenaries opened fire on the husband with automatic machine guns. The shotgun slid from his hands, as his bullet riddled body fell to the ground, landing in a pool of his own blood.

  Beth gasped and covered her gaping mouth in disbelief. An ear shattering scream escaped from the man’s wife and she began to cry hysterically. Before she could run to her husband’s aid, one of the mercenaries restraining the young woman picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He carried the sobbing woman kicking and screaming towards the bus, while two more mercenaries cautiously approached the husband’s lifeless body. When the man carrying the woman reached the bus he set her down and forced her inside, before turning to round up more civilians.

  Beth immediately stood up from her seat and began to try and console the young woman. “Here honey, sit by me,” she offered, guiding the young woman to her seat. “There, there child, everything is going to be alright.”

  The young woman buried her face into Beth’s shoulder and continued to cry uncontrollably. After a few minutes the bus’s engine roared to life and the convoy of vehicles began to move. Beth closed her eyes and prayed for Duke, asking the good Lord to protect and care for him until she was able to return.

  The sound of explosions grew fainter as the convoy drove off, headed east and away from the fighting. Staring out the window, Beth noticed another group of Blackwater mercenaries pillaging houses and loading empty trucks with the loot.

  “Their stealing from our houses!” she screamed in shock, half rising from her seat.

  “Sit down and shut up!” said one of the mercenaries onboard the bus.

  The cold and deadly glare in the man’s eyes was more than enough to send Beth slinking back down into her seat. She wrapped her arm around the young woman’s shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze.

  In the distance, Beth could hear the roar of cannon fire, as the floating armada of enemy ships continued their bombardment on the city of San Diego and the American soldiers defending the coast. It was only a matter of time before the constant barrage would soften the American defenses, enabling the enemy’s landing forces to take the beachhead.

  Blackwater

  World War III – Day Three

  FEMA Camp #569, California

  The sun was beginning to set when the transport vehicles, full of un-armed civilians, arrived at a FEMA camp located a few miles west of San Diego. From her seat on the bus, Beth Mancini could still hear the rumbling blasts from the gunships out at sea. The menacing barrage of artillery shells continued to fall on her home city and she began to wonder if she’d have a home to return to. A tear ran down her cheek as she thought of Duke, alone and trapped in the basement.

  Driving through the tall, electrified gates, Beth noticed a wooden sign dangling above the entrance. The words FEMA CAMP #569 were etched into the sign. In addition to being electrified, the fence surrounding the camp was twenty feet high and had coils of barbed wire on top. What bothered Beth the most was that the walls of the fence were angled in and not out, as though they were specifically designed to prevent people from leaving the camp, as opposed to stopping others from entering.

  Pulling into camp, Beth felt like she was entering a prison more than anything else. The ominous sound of the gate clicking closed sent a shiver down her spine. As the bus rolled to a stop, the girl sitting next to Beth continued to cry hysterically, her head resting on the older woman’s shoulder. And who could blame her after seeing her husband murdered by the same men who claimed to be there to protect them?

  “There, there child,” whispered Beth, trying to sooth the young woman. “I’ll take care of you. Don’t worry; these men will answer for what they’ve done. My name is Elizabeth Mancini, but you can call me Beth. What’s your name dear?”

  “Jenae,” sobbed the young lady in response. “I can’t believe he’s actually dead,” she added, referring to her husband.

  The door to the bus sudd
enly folded open and one of the Blackwater soldiers climbed onboard. He wore camouflage pants, a black shirt and body armor. In his hands he held a fully automatic M-16 assault rifle, with the strap slung over his shoulder and extra magazines tucked into the pockets on his vest.

  “May I please have everyone’s attention?” announced the soldier, in a commanding demeanor. “My name is Jasper and we’ve brought here for your own protection. Here, you’ll be safe, you’ll be fed, you’ll be sheltered and you’ll receive medical care.” The man sounded like he was reading a script that had been prepared specifically for this occasion.

  “My men are going to come along and collect all of your belongings and then bring them to your quarters,” continued the soldier, “so please leave everything that you’ve brought with you on the bus. Each of you will be assigned to one of the barracks. Each barrack has one bathroom and dozens of cots. The cots are on a first come, first serve basis. The cafeteria is located in that barrack,” said Jasper, indicating a rectangular shaped barrack located at the center of the camp. “The showers are in the next barrack over and they’re public showers, so if any of you are shy,” he added with an evil grin, “now’s the time to get over it. Now, everybody exit the bus and leave your belongings behind.”

  As to be expected, questions and concerns began to flood from many of the people on the bus. Jasper ignored the onslaught of questions with a wave of his hand and shouted, “I said dismount the bus! Now!” he added, when no one moved from their seat. “Do you people need a written invitation?”

  “Yes,” demanded Beth, “and a heck of a lot better of an explanation. Remember sir, you and your men came to our homes armed and took us away, many of us against our will. I definitely think that you owe us a better explanation. Like where exactly are we?”

  “Listen lady,” exclaimed Jasper, “I don’t have time for this crap. I need this bus unloaded immediately so that we can go out for another load of cargo!”

  “Cargo?” repeated Beth. “Is that what you think we are?”

  Jasper ignored the question and hissed, “Can you not hear the artillery explosions? You’re here for your safety.”

  “Oh, I see,” replied Beth sarcastically, “so you’re here to protect us.”

  “That’s right,” agreed Jasper, with a broken smile.

  “Like your men protected this young woman’s husband,” Beth indicated the girl next to her, “when they murdered him in the doorway of his own house, that kind of protection? These camps look more like internment camps to me. I noticed that the fences are built to keep people in, not out.”

  Many of the civilians on the bus began to look around frantically, realizing for the first time that what Beth said was true. A ripple of uneasiness swept across the bus, as people whispered and pointed at the tall, electrified fences and guard towers located at each corner of the camp.

  “What’s your name?” asked Jasper, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing a pen and notepad.

  “Elizabeth Mancini,” declared Beth, defiantly standing up. “What’s yours?”

  When Jasper had finished writing down her name and put his pad away, he walked up to Beth and slapped her across the face, hard. Pain ripped across her face as she fell back into her chair. Her mouth dropped open in shock, but she quickly closed it hoping that he hadn’t noticed. She looked up at him with increased defiance.

  “Well Mrs. Mancini,” said Jasper, smiling at the blood in the corner of her mouth, “if you don’t shut up and get off the bus like I told you, then I’ll have my men remove you! And I won’t be responsible for any harm that may come to you.”

  “Responsible!” exclaimed Beth. “Let’s talk about responsibility for a minute. Under whose authority do you claim to be operating?”

  “Under this authority,” said Jasper, patting his gun and chambering a round. “Would you like to contest it?”

  “Just what exactly do you think I’m doing?” asked Beth. “I’m sure as hell not agreeing with your authority, or lack thereof! Were you wounded in the head or something, because logic seems to be wasted on you?”

  “Curtis! Steve!” shouted Jasper, in disgust. “Get in here and remove this old hag from my bus!”

  “Old hag!” repeated Beth. “Why you insolent little pup, if my son was here he’d teach you a lesson in respect!”

  “I look forward to meeting him someday soon,” spat Jasper, as two armed men boarded the bus. Jasper moved out of the way as the two mercenaries grabbed Beth by each of her arms and pulled her to her feet.

  “It takes three of you armed with machine guns to silence an old woman! No wonder you’re not on the front lines fighting the enemy with our real soldiers!” teased Beth, as she was dragged down the steps of the bus.

  “Hey,” said a man, sitting at the rear of the bus, “there’s no need for that!”

  “Shut up!” shouted Jasper, punching the man in the face and breaking his nose. “Let this be a lesson to all of you on how troublemakers will be dealt with. Now get up and get off the bus!” Jasper turned to the Blackwater soldier driving the bus and whispered, “Make sure they all leave their belongings behind. If anyone gives you any trouble,” he added louder, so that all the passengers could hear, “then you give them trouble! And make a list of all the troublemakers so that they can be dealt with.” Jasper said over his shoulder, before turning and descending the steps behind Beth and her armed escort.

  The remainder of the civilians climbed down from the bus, leaving their belongings behind. When all of the trucks and buses were unloaded, they drove out of camp heading west. The people began to spread out into smaller groups and head towards their designated sleeping barracks. No one seemed interested in the shower or food barracks. Instead, they hurried to find a vacant spot before all of the cots were gone.

  Beth was given no such opportunity. She was guided to a separate barrack, with an armed guard on either side. The barrack looked slightly different than the others, perhaps more modern. A sign was hung above the door that read, Blackwater Command Center. Once inside, Beth was shoved into a separate office and then forced down into one of the chairs. Within seconds, Jasper entered the office and dismissed the two guards, shutting the door behind them as they left.

  “Well, Mrs. Mancini,” began Jasper, as he closed the office blinds, “let’s see how brave you are when there aren’t a bunch of eyewitnesses around.” Jasper flipped the switch to a small radio on his desk and country music began to whine from the speakers. Suddenly and without warning, he spun around and slapped Beth across her face. The impact was so hard this time that it left an imprint from Jasper’s hand.

  “Ouch!” she cried out in pain, as her cheek turned red and began to sting. She could feel tears begin to swell in her eyes and did everything she could to stop them from flowing forth. Beth had no intention of giving Jasper the satisfaction of knowing that he’d hurt her.

  “You’re not so feisty now are you,” grinned Jasper, as he reached down and grabbed a clump of Beth’s hair. He pulled violently, forcing Beth’s head back with her face up towards the ceiling. Jasper bent down and brought his face within inches of Beth’s. She could smell the foul odor of tobacco juice coming from his mouth. “I’m in charge here,” he hissed, “not you, not the government, just me. Do you understand?” he squeezed his hand into a fist, tightening the grip he had on her hair and causing her to scream out in pain. “Do. You. Understand?” he repeated the question slowly.

  “Yes,” whispered Beth, still full of fight. “I understand exactly who you are and what you are!”

  “Good,” spat Jasper, releasing his grip on her hair. “Don’t forget it, because if you do I’ll hand you over to my men! You may be older than what their used to, but trust me when I say they won’t mind one bit! And a lot of my men aren’t nearly as nice as I am,” he added with an evil grin.

  Jasper swung the office door open and shouted, “Curtis! Steve! Escort her to the barracks.” The two guards entered the office and lifted Beth from the c
hair.

  “Move!” said the man named Curtis, nudging Beth in the back with the barrel of his gun.

  Invasion

  World War III – Day Three

  Pacific Ocean off the United States Coast

  On board one of the many amphibious troop transports headed towards the California coast, Captain Yuri Petrov watched in disgust as several soldiers standing near him began to vomit. The thick, rancid liquid formed a puddle on the deck of the vessel, forcing Yuri to take a step back to avoid standing in the yellowish-brown mess. Many of the men under Yuri’s command were not accustomed to being at sea, especially in the confines of such a small ship. Unrelenting waves crashed against the sides of the transport, causing the boat to pitch back and forth violently.

  Standing beside Captain Petrov, Lt Sasha Razin tried in vain to rally the soldiers, but his shouts of encouragement were muffled by the rumble of cannon fire. He could see the apprehension in many of the men’s eyes when the beachhead came into view. As they drew closer to death, Sasha felt the rush of adrenalin coursing through his body like an electric current.

  American fighter jets suddenly swooped down from the sky above and began strafing the Russian and Chinese ships. Bullets riddled the transports with holes, as soldiers fired back. Their rifles and machine guns were no match for the lightning fast jets. The slow moving transports left the soldiers exposed and vulnerable. One by one the men in Yuri’s command fell dead or wounded around him. There was no roof to offer protection and the only shelter to be found was beneath the dead bodies of his fallen comrades.