World War III

by Heath Jannusch

  The apartment was trashed, but he couldn’t tell if that was because of a struggle, or merely the act of raiders rummaging through their belongings. He quickly walked from one room to the next, searching for the woman that he loved.

  “Jillian!” he whispered, loud enough for her to hear, but soft enough so that the soldiers outside couldn’t. “Jillian!” he called again, but there was no answer. He quickly checked the night stand where he told her she’d find the key to the sailboat. It was gone!

  Maybe she’d done as instructed, and was even now waiting for him at the Marina. Hope began to fill Jesse’s heart. He glanced around the ransacked apartment, looking for anything that might be of use. He found an old hunting knife that had somehow been missed and slipped it into his coat. There were some cans of food left in the cupboard and bottles of water in the fridge. Jesse quickly filled a duffle bag with anything and everything that he thought might be useful.

  He was turning to leave when he heard a noise. The sound was muffled, but most definitely human. He looked around, trying to locate its origin. He was about to leave when he heard it again. It was the sound of a woman crying softly. “Jillian, is that you?”

  Jesse walked towards the window where the noise was coming from. In front of the window was a hollowed-out bench seat, about four feet long and two feet wide. He and Jillian had used the space for storage when they finally discovered it, almost a year after moving in. With one hand on his gun, Jesse lifted the lid. He looked down into the dark opening and there she was, curled up in a ball, with her arms wrapped around her legs.

  “Jillian!” he gasped and reached down for her.

  “Jesse? Is that you?”

  “Of course it’s me silly, who else would it be? Didn’t you hear me calling your name?”

  “Yeah, I think so,” she whimpered.

  “Then why didn’t you answer?”

  “I wasn’t sure if it was you,” she explained, drying her eyes. “What are you wearing?”

  “Oh,” Jesse looked down at the Russian uniform, “it’s Russian.”

  “Have you switched sides?” she asked, with a hint of humor.

  “Funny.” Jesse smiled and helped her climb out of the hallowed window-seat. At least she was still able to make jokes. “How long have you been hiding in there?”

  “Ever since they came,” said Jillian, looking towards the broken door with contempt. “I bolted the door and barely had time to hide before they broke it down. They cleaned us out,” she added, looking around at the mess of an apartment.

  “Don’t worry about that,” said Jesse. “Are you alright?”

  “Yeah, I think so. I saw them take the necklace you gave me,” she added, somberly.

  “Let them have it,” replied Jesse, “I’ll buy you another one. Besides, it’s not the necklace that’s important, but the neck that it’s wrapped around. We need to get out of here. Are you okay to walk?”

  “Yes, but where are we gonna go?”

  “Anywhere but here,” answered Jesse. “I can’t find the keys to the sailboat. I think they might have taken those too.”

  “No they didn’t,” said Jillian, reaching into her pocket. “I grabbed them just before they arrived.”

  “I love you!” exclaimed Jesse, wrapping his arms around Jillian’s small frame.

  “I can’t breathe,” she gasped.

  “Oh, sorry,” said Jesse, releasing his bear hug. “Quick, grab some more clothes and layer them on your body. There’s no telling where we’ll end up or in what climate.”

  Jillian quickly did as instructed and within a couple of minutes she was standing in the living room ready to go. The extra clothes made her look heavier than she really was and brought a smile to Jesse’s face.

  “What?” She asked, when she saw him grinning.

  “Nothing,” he said. “I just can’t get over how beautiful you are.”

  “Oh,” she giggled. “Thank you!”

  “Alright, let’s go!” Jesse guided Jillian towards their unhinged front door.

  “Wait!” gasped Jillian. “They’re still out there!”

  “Right,” said Jesse. “Just follow my lead. I’m a Russian officer and you’re my prisoner.”

  “But what if they ask us questions? I don’t speak Russian. Do you?”

  “No,” admitted Jesse. “But I don’t need to. I’m an officer.” When he said the last sentence his chest puffed out with confidence.

  “Uh, I, I don’t know if this is a good idea,” said Jillian, her face heavy with doubt. “I don’t think I can do this.”

  “You can. Remember drama club in high school, when you acted out different roles in various productions?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, just pretend like this is a scene from one of those plays, and you’ve got the starring role,” suggested Jesse, winking at her.

  “It’s not that easy.”

  “Sure it is. Here, turn around,” he said, unraveling some rope that he’d packed in the duffle bag. “I’m gonna tie your hands behind your back with this rope.”

  “Really?” smirked Jillian.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll make it loose so that you can wiggle out of it if need be. If were gonna play the roles of captor and captive, than we need to look the part. And using the right props is part of the illusion.” Jillian turned her back to Jesse and allowed him to wrap the rope loosely around her wrists. “There, how does that feel?”

  “Kinky,” said Jillian sarcastically.

  “Well it won’t be for long,” Jesse assured her. “As soon as we get passed the Russian soldiers outside I’ll untie you. Remember, when we get outside keep your eyes on the ground in front of you, and no matter what you do, don’t make eye contact with any of the soldiers. We don’t want them to notice us, and we definitely don’t want them to see your beauty. It might give them other ideas.”

  “Oh, thanks,” said Jillian playfully. “You know just what to say to make a girl feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

  Jesse swung the duffle bag over his shoulder and double checked the action on the Russian made pistol, ensuring that the safety was off and it was ready to fire. “Alright, let’s go,” he said, guiding Jillian out the front door in front of him. “Remember, if anything happens,” he added whispering into her ear, “don’t say anything.” Jillian nodded in agreement, already playing the quiet and submissive role of a prisoner.

  They walked down the steps with Jillian in the lead and Jesse bringing up the rear. He kept his hand on the butt if his pistol at all times, ready for trouble. His other hand gently held the rope wrapped around Jillian’s wrists. They quickly and quietly walked passed the group of Russians, who were still enthralled in casting lots for the stolen belongings. Luckily, they were able to pass by unnoticed.

  The couple was about to round the corner of a building and vanish from sight, when Jillian glanced back, wanting one last glimpse of the apartment that she and Jesse had called home for so long. Her timing couldn’t have been worse.

  Just before she turned to look back, one of the Russian soldiers glanced up and noticed Jesse and Jillian. He was watching them walk away and about to return his attention to the pile of stolen belongings, when Jillian looked back. Their eyes met for a split second, before Jesse guided Jillian into a dark alley and out of sight. Jillian felt a chill run down her spine, realizing that the soldier had seemed more than just mildly curious.

  Jesse stopped walking and quickly began to un-tie the rope around Jillian’s wrist. He re-coiled the rope and deposited it back into the duffle bag. “There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “No,” agreed Jillian, wondering if she should tell him about the soldier that saw her? “I think one of the soldiers saw me,” she added, deciding that if Jesse was going to have any chance of protecting them, he’d need to know when and where danger might exist.

  “Really?” he asked, his brow furrowed in doubt. “Did he follow us?”

  “I don’t know, I don’t think so.”r />
  “There’s only one way to be sure,” said Jesse. “Come on!” He quickly guided Jillian towards the end of the alley and gently pushed her behind a large dumpster. “Wait here,” he whispered. “I’ll be right back.”

  Before Jillian could say a word or dispute being left alone, Jesse was gone, disappearing into the dark shadows. Jillian crouched behind the dumpster and waited for what seemed like forever, before she noticed the shadow of a man coming towards her. She held her breath, not wanting to give away her position. Was it Jesse returning, or was it the Russian soldier stalking them? The steel-toed boots made loud footsteps, as the shadow drew closer.

  Where are you Jesse!

  Suddenly the shadow stopped. Jillian covered her mouth to prevent a gasp from escaping. Had the unknown person seen her? Was he now silently creeping closer? No. He was just standing there. Jillian wanted to peek around the corner of the dumpster, but realized the folly of such an action if the shadow belonged to anyone but Jesse.

  The shadow took another step forward and then suddenly disappeared. Jillian could hear sounds of a scuffle and struggled to maintain her composure. What if Jesse was involved in the fight and needed her help? What if…she could barely acknowledge the thought… what if Jesse was being murdered only a few feet away? She was tempted to go and investigate when she remembered his instructions. ‘Wait here,’ he’d told her. So she did. After what seemed like eternity, she heard a familiar voice call her name.

  “Jillian?”

  It was Jesse’s voice! Jillian stood up and stepped out from behind the dumpster. “Jesse, are you alright?”

  “Yes,” he answered, slightly out of breath. In his hand Jesse held the large hunting knife that he’d salvaged from their apartment. Blood dripped down the sharp, serrated blade, leaving a small pool around his boots. He wiped the blade across his arm, removing most of the blood, before slipping it back into his coat. “Come on, let’s get out of here!”

  The couple quickly and silently slipped through the dark streets, avoiding any sign of people, regardless of nationality. They were almost to the Marina and safety of the sailboat, when Jillian noticed drops of blood dripping from Jesse’s hand. “Oh my God, you’re hurt!”

  “It’s just a scratch,” said Jesse.

  “How do you know,” countered Jillian. “Let me have a look at it.”

  “There’s no time,” whispered Jesse. “Especially not out here in the open. It’ll have to wait until we reach my grandpa’s sailboat. We’re almost there. We’ve got to keep moving.”

  The sun was beginning to rise in the east, when they finally reached the Marina. Jesse glanced up at the dark, red sky. “We don’t have much time before its daylight,” he whispered to Jillian.

  “Why are we whispering?” She asked.

  Jesse nodded towards two Russian soldiers standing guard at the gate leading to the docks. Beyond the chain link fence were dozens of boats of different shapes and sizes, floating peacefully in the Marina. “There she is,” said Jesse, pointing to a white sailboat tied at the end of one of the docks.

  “How are we going to get to it?” asked Jillian, looking back at the two guards. One of them lit a cigarette and offered a light to his comrade.

  “Quietly,” whispered Jesse, “very quietly.” He led Jillian to the far end of the fence surrounding the Marina. When they were out of sight from the guards, Jesse hoisted Jillian up and onto his shoulder, and handed her the hunting knife from inside his coat.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” she asked, holding the knife with two fingers, as if it might bite her. She could feel the sticky remnants of dried blood on the hilt of the knife.

  “Cut the barbed wire,” instructed Jesse, holding Jillian steady on his shoulder. They’d found the perfect spot to climb the fence, thanks to a large powerboat docked on the other side, concealing them from the Russian soldier’s view.

  “Ouch!” cried Jillian, after nicking her finger on part of the barbed wire.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” she said, biting her lip.

  Jesse looked up and saw Jillian trying to saw through the wire with the smooth portion of the knife. “You’ve got to use the serrated edge,” he whispered. “Get the wire in between the teeth of the blade and then twist.”

  Jillian did as instructed and the wire snapped. “Woohoo!” she exclaimed.

  “Quiet!” hissed Jesse.

  “Oh, sorry,” said Jillian, covering her mouth with her hand. She quickly repeated the maneuver with the remaining strands of barbed wire. “Okay, I’m done.”

  “Good job, now climb over as quietly as possible.” Jesse held the fence tight as Jillian climbed it, trying to prevent it from rattling as much as possible. When she was safe on the other side, he tossed the duffle bag over and she caught it in her outstretched arms. Jesse quickly scaled the fence and dropped to the ground next to Jillian. He took the duffle bag and tossed it over his shoulder. “Alright, are you ready?”

  “How are we going to get to the sailboat?” asked Jillian. “The guards will see us before we’re halfway there.”

  “We’re gonna swim for it,” replied Jesse. He lowered Jillian into the water, and then followed himself. As they began to swim towards the sailboat, Jesse was thankful for all of the time they’d spent scuba diving together.

  When they reached the sailboat Jesse reached up, grabbed hold of the railing, and hoisted himself up. He then reached down for Jillian’s outstretched hands and pulled her up beside him. Staying low on the deck, the couple crawled to the hatch leading to the cabin below. When they were safe below deck, Jesse opened a cabinet and removed two towels. He handed one to Jillian and they both removed their wet clothes and dried off.

  “What now?” asked Jillian, after they’d dressed in fresh, warm clothes.

  “Now, we wait,” said Jesse, as he took apart the Russian made pistol. He quickly dried and cleaned the weapon, wanting it to be ready for use if, and when, the time came.

  “Wait? Wait for what?”

  “You see those big ships floating off the coast?” he asked.

  Jillian peered out of one of the small windows. The sun was already high in the sky, creating a glare off the surface of the ocean. In the distance, she could see hundreds of large war ships floating off the coast. “Yeah, I see them.”

  “Well,” said Jesse, “they ain’t ours.” He began to re-assemble the gun, as if he’d done it a thousand times before. “If we try to leave now they’ll blow us out of the water. We need to wait until the ships are gone, or at the very least leave under the cover of darkness.”

  “Right,” said Jillian, nodding her head in agreement. She walked over to the small table where Jesse sat assembling the gun. “Let me take a look at your wound.”

  Jesse reluctantly placed the gun on the table and removed his shirt. He had a long, nasty looking cut on his bicep, running from his shoulder down to his elbow. “Oh my,” gasped Jillian, “that looks painful.”

  “It could’ve been worse,” admitted Jesse, thinking back to the carnage on the beach just a few hours ago.

  Jillian sat down next to him and began cleaning the wound with soap, water and peroxide. When she was finished, she rummaged through the cabinets and drawers, looking for something to stitch the wound. “Ah ha!” she said, turning around with a sewing kit in her hand. “This should do the trick. Although,” she hesitated, “I don’t have anything to give you for the pain.”

  “Check the compartment under the bed,” suggested Jesse.

  Jillian disappeared into the master cabin for a moment and then returned with a bottle of Jack Daniels in her hand. She found two glasses in one of the cabinets and returned to the table. After breaking the seal on the bottle, she poured them each a stiff drink. “What shall we toast too?” she asked, handing Jesse one of the glasses.

  “Life,” suggested Jesse, raising his glass.

  “To life,” repeated Jillian, raising her glass. The glasses clinked together befor
e they each tossed their heads back and swallowed the amber liquid inside. “Wow!” said Jillian, shaking her head and placing the empty glass on the table in front of her. “That’ll sure take the edge off.”

  “I hope so,” replied Jesse, pouring himself another. “Alright, are you ready for surgery, doctor?”

  “I hope so,” said Jillian, threading a needle with pink thread. “Sorry about the color, it’s all I could find.”

  “No problem,” laughed Jesse. He couldn’t care less about the color, which was the least of their worries. He tossed back another drink of whiskey and rested his arm on the table in front of him, giving Jillian plenty of room to work.

  She burned the end of the needle with a lighter and dosed the needle and thread in the whiskey to disinfect it, took a deep breath, and then slid the needle through Jesse’s skin. She worked the needle back and forth through his mangled flesh, starting at the shoulder and working her way down. “There!” she said, when she’d finally finished. But the only reply to come from Jesse’s lips was the soft rumble of a snore.

  Fallout

  World War III – Day Five

  Clearview, Nevada

  The fourth morning following the nuclear attack found the sleepy residents of Clearview still holed up in the library. Having run out of food and water the day before, their situation was becoming quite uncomfortable. Without food they could survive for a month or more, but without water they wouldn’t last more than a couple of more days.

  The black rain had stopped falling several hours after it started but the radiation in the air lingered, making it impossible for anyone to leave the shelter in search of supplies. Over the next few days the rain continued to come and go, but it was no longer black. The clear droplets of water were comforting to see following the dreary black sludge that had been haunting some of their dreams.

  Shiloh’s eyes opened abruptly and he glanced around, searching for the sound that had awoken him. Scattered all around him were sleeping bodies, no one else seemed to be awake.

  “Must have been my imagination,” he mumbled to himself, as he rolled over onto his side and closed his eyes. Suddenly the floor beneath him began to vibrate gently, as though God were shaking the entire building. His eyes flashed open and he sat up straight. This time he was certain that he’d heard something.