by Luis Samways
‘I’m sorry to bother you sir, it’s just we have a situation,’ says the man
The president doesn’t bother to hide his emotions. He rubs his eyes red raw and then looks up at the tall yuppie like man standing in front of his desk.
‘Forgive me young man, it’s just being a president sucks sometimes,’ He says
The Whitehouse advisor smiles and looks at the President’s big oak desk. He extends his arm forward and grabs a silk handkerchief draped on the desk. It has the Whitehouse emblem and insignia on it. He gracefully hands it over to the near blubbering Commander in Chief.
‘Thank you,’ he says, whipping his tears away, ‘the situation?’ asks the president bluntly, getting back to business as quickly as possible.
‘Well sir, this isn’t good news at all. The covert army have just hit our Virginia missile silo and stolen two nuclear warheads. An A12 and an A19,’ says the advisor.
‘How did this happen?’
‘Well, they overran us sir,’
‘I get that part, but how did they manage to walk out with two missiles? The place is guarded by five hundred infantry and over one thousand on site personal who are trained in firearms’
‘They came at us with jets and then cleaned up with ground units’
The president’s expression deepens
‘They have jets?’
The advisor nods his head.
‘They have an army sir’
Nineteen
‘So you’re saying he just up and vanished like a fart in the wind?’ asks Deshaun as he leans against his SUV’s matted black hood.
‘I’m not saying anything of the sort. I just can’t seem to put my finger on where he is,’ says Peter as he joins Deshaun in leaning against his car.
Deshaun gives Peter a questionable look.
‘Do you mind? I just had this waxed,’ he says
‘Oh, so it’s okay for you to lean against it, but not me?’
‘Pretty much,’ Deshaun says as he grins at his bodyguard turned special investigator turned lover!
Both men remain quiet for a while as they stare at the house they are investigating. It’s the second house they have visited that day. Along with the mansion, the current house they are investigating is a lot less glamorous. It didn’t take long to realise no one was home.
‘So he’s not here?’ says Deshaun, more of a statement than anything else.
‘Correctamudno,’ says Peter.
‘Where else could he be then?’ asks Deshaun who results to leaning against his car once again.
‘Fuck knows’
‘Well that’s helpful,’ says Deshaun.
‘Thank you, I do try my best’
‘Well I wouldn’t be hiding in a house either if I was him,’ says Deshaun
‘Where would you hide then?’
‘Underground most likely. Probably in a bunker…Maybe in a ,’ before Deshaun can finish what he is about to say Peter slaps him on the shoulder hard.
‘You’re a fucking genius man! A genius!’ he says
‘What?’ asks Deshaun
‘A bunker! That’s where he is! Duh! Why didn’t I think of that? The government had me install a bunker in central park that only the Mayor has access to. We built a tunnel from the Mayor’s office to the bunker. It’s like a mile underground. I don’t know why they wanted a bunker built, but apparently all important people in office get one because of how volatile the climate has been for the past ten to fifteen years,’ says Peter
‘How the hell could you forget that?’
‘Excitement I guess’
‘Excitement about what exactly?’
‘Screwing a hottie like you!’
Deshaun blushes.
‘Let’s get to the bunker then,’ says Deshaun
‘Ladies first,’ says Peter
Twenty
‘The A12 and A19’s are prepped and ready for launch. When do you want us to fire them sir?’ asks the man in front of Mr Conway’s desk. He twiddles his thumbs and looks a tad nervous in the presence of his boss. Mr Conway is feeding his fish; he chucks in a handful of sprinkles and shuts the hatch of the tank. He then turns around and looks at his new replacement for Miss Harriet. He isn’t impressed. He would much rather prefer a replacement that he can sleep with. Mr Conway isn’t into men but he can still make men feel uncomfortable. It’s a role that he plays very well, the role of the big bad boss. He cracks a smile at the new replacement.
‘What’s your name son?’ he asks, sitting down in his leather chair.
‘Smith sir,’ he says
‘Mr Smith?’ says Mr Conway
‘I guess,’ says Smith
‘Good, nice to meet you Mr Smith. You know why you’re here right?’
‘Yes, you need a new advisor’
‘Do you know why I need a new advisor?’
Smith shakes his head.
‘Because my last one is a little tied up at the moment. She won’t be advising me any time in the future, nor will she breathing in the next couple of hours. The thing is I take my job seriously, and when I have people who work for me go behind my back and disrupt the flow of business then something has to be done. Are you the type of man to go behind my back and disrupt the flow of business Mr Smith?’
‘No sir,’ he says, looking even more nervous than before.
‘And you can give me your word?’
‘Yes,’ says Smith
‘Good. Now about the A12 and A19. I want you to tell the guys down the silo to set the nuke’s up and put them on a twelve hour timer. I will fax them the coordinates, but I don’t think you need to be a rocket scientist to work out where we are firing these things at’
‘No sir, you don’t’
‘Do you have any idea where these rockets are heading?’
‘Um, Washington?’ says the Advisor
‘Good. At least you are brighter than you look. Now get going. We only have twelve hours to get this thing started and finished. I’m getting pretty tired of waiting around,’ says Mr Conway.
Twenty One
London, England
Steven’s car stops in the hard shoulder of the M5 on the outskirts of the city. The skyline of the historical city can be seen nestling above the trees. The gravel and lose dirt on the tarmac squelches under Steven’s wheel as he pulls on the handbrake and looks into his rear view mirror. He can see the Metropolitan police officer approach his car. He’s wearing a hi-viz jacket over his stab proof vest and he is sporting a new school policeman’s hat. He can also see that the policeman has a Taser holstered onto his belt. It makes Steven nervous. His wife looks on as Steven’s face grows paler with every passing second until all that’s visible is his pounding pulse in his neck and the sweat that is dripping down his face. The policeman reaches the driver’s window and taps on it with his knuckles. The sound pops through the car and makes Steven feel stiff and uneasy. He hits the electric window button and the window glides down smoothly. The sound of the motorway penetrates through the opening as the wind ripples through Steven’s clothes. His wife smiles at the policeman, who gives her a courteous smile back. His attentions go back to Steven as he gives the car a nose around and spots the mass of suitcases protruding through the backseats.
‘Going somewhere in a hurry?’ asks the policeman.
‘No not really. Just getting out of the city,’ says Steven
‘Why the hurry then sir?’
‘There is no hurry, just going about my business, that’s all. Why have you stopped me?’ asks Steven who shifts his eyes down to the compartment attached to the driver’s door where he usually keeps things like a map and a wrench. He then shifts his eyes back to the officer.
‘You were speeding sir. This motorway, like all motorways in England, has a speed limit of seventy miles an hour. You were going a hundred and ten. Now usually a little leeway is given, but I can’t really give any leeway to someone going over a ton. Now if you wouldn’t mind, could you please step out of the car and in
to the back of mine so we can have a little chat?’
Steven isn’t interested in procedure or talking to cops.
‘Why can’t we just talk here?’ he asks
‘Because I’m standing on a busy road. It would be safer for me to talk to you in the back of my car,’ he says
‘Well, that’s just too bad. I’m staying in my car. If you don’t like it, then you can come in the back of my car and we can chat there. If not, could you please just issue me a fine or whatever so I can be on my way?’
‘Sorry Sir, I’m afraid you HAVE to step out of the car,’ says the policeman.
‘Do I now? Oh, am I under arrest?’
‘No, but…’
‘But nothing. I don’t have to do shit for you. If you want a safer work environment, I suggest you rethink your career as a traffic officer,’ he says
‘So you’re not going to step out of the car?’ asks the Police man
‘Just do as he says Steven,’ his wife says
Steven turns to his wife and raises his hand, pointing his finger straight at her face, inches away from her. He can feel her warm breath against his finger.
‘You shut up! This isn’t of your concern!’ he says bashfully.
The policeman’s expression changes.
‘Calm down sir,’ he says
‘Calm down? Calm fucking down? Are you stupid or something? Just do your fucking job and let me get on with my life!’
‘Don’t talk to me like that sir,’ says the policeman
‘Or what?’
‘Or I’ll arrest you,’ he says
Steven reaches down into the compartment where he puts his map and pulls an object out. He raises it in the direction of the officer who is leaning into his car. The officer’s expression changes and fear washes all over the man’s face.
‘Sir, don’t do anything stupid,’ says the officer at the sight of the firearm.
Steven fires it at point blank range. His wife screams. Cars screech as the officer’s body hits the road and oncoming traffic tries to miss the corpse. Steven puts the gun back where it came from and speeds off .
Twenty Two
David, Ray and Donner are watching Tristan and Abigail play hopscotch in the sewage water. They have devised a new way to play the game with every second hop being over some muddy water. They seem to be enjoying themselves for the first time since they have been there. Donner is looking on with a smile on her face.
‘Isn’t it beautiful?’ she says, still grinning as the two little girls mess around in the distance.
Ray looks around the derelict industrial sewage pipe they call home and laughs.
‘Yeah, it’s got its perks’
Everyone laughs. Ray looks over at the makeshift prisoner camp they had built for the two prisoners they hold captive.
‘So when are we going to deal with Mitch?’ asks Ray
‘When the time is right,’ says David half annoyed at the question.
‘Well we can’t just leave him there. We need to do something,’ he says
‘What do you suggest we do?’ asks Donner
‘Kill the cunt,’ says Ray
Donner cringes at the sound of Ray’s voice.
‘Do you have to use that word?’
‘What word?’
‘You know, the C word,’ she says
‘Yeah, when there is a cunt in my presence, I will gladly call him one’
‘What about him?’ asks David pointing at Tyrell who is near the two little girls laughing and playing with them.
‘What about him? He seems okay,’ says Ray
‘He is black though….’ says David while smiling at Ray.
‘Fuck you man. That’s not funny,’ laughs Ray
‘What about the other guy, Tony. Do we kill him? Asks Donner
‘We are not killing anyone! Got that? Wow, who the hell do you guys think you are? Judge, jury and executioner?’ asks David
‘Ease off man. It’s just I don’t see the point in wasting food on two scumbags,’ says Ray.
Suddenly they hear some whistling accompanied by footsteps approaching the camp. They all get up quickly and race towards the girls. Tyrell is standing in shock as he sees a man enter the opening to the underground camp, in which a few hours prior was a warzone of gunshots and uncertainty. They all stand in shock as a well-dressed man smiles at them. He stands idle in a puddle of sewage water; his clothes are looking elegant and expensive. His suit shines much like David’s did before spending the near part of a week in the sewers. The man’s straight and narrow smile near lights up the tunnel as David’s jaw nearly hits the ground in shock.
‘Holy shit! Is that?’ asks Donner
Ray nods his head.
‘Mayor Rodriguez? Says David
‘Hello everyone,’ says the Mayor as he continues to smile at the group of survivors.
Luis Samways
Beacon of Light
Episode Five
One
London, England
‘You shot that police officer! How could you do such a thing? Shouts Steven’s wife.
Steven continues to grip onto the leather steering wheel as he weaves through traffic at an unadulterated speed.
‘Just shut up, and let me think!’ he screams.
An array of car horns can be heard from behind them as Steven looks down at the speedometer and clocks his speed at one hundred and twenty six miles an hour.
‘You’ll get us pulled over again. Slow down and blend into the traffic Steven,’ says Sharron.
Steven cranes his head to the left to see what’s behind him. He sees no police cars or helicopters. Maybe his wife is right. Maybe the best thing to do is blend in.
‘Okay, I’ll slow down, I’ll slow down,’ he says, slamming his foot down onto the brakes.
The car comes to a screeching halt.
‘I didn’t mean stop,’ she says.
‘Maybe it’s best if we do stop. Let’s get into another car,’ says Steven.
His wife’s expression drops as she listens on in amazement at Steven’s gutsy plan.
‘How do you suggest we get another car Steven?’ she says, not quite believing what she is saying.
‘We take one,’ he says.
‘What? Hijack a car? Do you want to go to prison for the rest your life?’ she asks.
Steven shakes his head.
‘Of course not, why do you think I am suggesting this?’
‘Because you obviously have a death wish of some sorts that I am not aware of,’ she says.
‘I don’t have a death wish! Can’t you see what is happening? Don’t you understand how much trouble we are in Sharron?’
‘You shot a policeman! You killed him!’ she says starting to break down into tears.
‘We don’t know if he’s dead! I shot him in the chest, they have armour,’ he says, trying to justify his actions, feeling a tad nervous while tapping his fingers on the car’s dash.
‘It’s stab proof, not bullet proof! And if I recall, you shot him in the face,’ she says.
Suddenly Steven realises something. They have been stopped in the middle of the motorway for a couple of minutes and not one single person has driven past them. The motorway they are on is a three lane motorway. Surly someone should have passed them. Steven quickly looks into his rear view mirror to assess the situation and spots something out of the ordinary. Directly behind his stationary car lies around a hundred cars all stopped as well. A lot of the car doors are open and some of the drivers are outside of their vehicles looking up at the sky. Steven opens his side door and decides to investigate what they are all looking at. The breeze hits him as he steps out of the car. A weird sound can be heard in the atmosphere. It sounds as if an aeroplane is about to fall out of the sky.
‘What are you doing? Get back into the car, you’ll get ran over!’ his wife says as she looks on at her husband exiting the car.
‘What the fuck?’ says Steven, gobsmacked at what he sees.
; Three missile like lights can be seen in the early evening sky dancing around randomly. The lights look pretty and inviting.
‘Wow, what’s that?’ says his wife who’s still seated in the car.
‘I don’t know,’ he says
After a few seconds, one of the lights breaks from the others and comes rushing down towards the motorway. Before anyone can react, it has hit the road and split it into to two. Cars go flying up in the air and land on their roofs. Steven is knocked down on the ground, and gets covered in dirt and dust as the other lights in the sky zoom off into the horizon.
Two
Mr Conway is pacing the length of his desk once again while smoking a cigar and sipping on some whisky. He isn’t in a party mood and that much is evident by the look of despair on his face. His facial expressions seem to dampen with every step he takes. A knock on his office door reboots his senses.
‘Come in,’ he says
His new advisor enters the room holding a PDA.
‘Hello Mr Conway,’ says the advisor.
‘Hey, what’s the news then? Are we set yet?’ asks Mr Conway.
‘Yes sir, we should have the A12 and A19’s up in the air in a couple of hours’ time,’ says the advisor.
The look of glee on Mr Conway’s face is evident as he bites down hard on the rim of his whisky glass and takes a large swig.
‘Good,’ he says, as he catches his breath after the long gulp.
‘Is there anything else I can do sir?’ asks the advisor.
‘Yeah there is actually. Could you please go down to the basement and put a bullet in Miss Harriet’s skull,’ says Mr Conway.
His advisor swallows hard as his Addams apple bobs up and down in his throat.
‘Me?’ asks the advisor, nearly cracking his voice into a high pitched tone.
‘Yes, you.’
‘But why me?’ He asks.
‘Because you need to prove yourself as my new advisor. You can’t be my right hand man without getting those hands bloody,’ he says.
‘I didn’t know getting my hands bloody was in my job description sir’
Mr Conway gets up from his seat and leans over the desk. His weight creaks on the unsteady wooden desk, making it crack under his bulk.