World War III (14 page)

Michael turned his back to Seere, relying on his wings to protect him from the onslaught of arrows, giving his full attention to the other fallen angels, who’d effectively surrounded him on all four sides. The clash of swords, a spear and a triton, echoed along the beach.

Forneus charged towards Michael with his jagged claws outstretched. But before he could dig his claws into the archangel, Michael slashed through the green scales protecting Forneus and saw blood spew from his stomach, he gasped in surprise and recoiled. Shooting Michael an evil, envious stare before returning to the ocean refuge he now called home.

Michael quickly ducked under the spear of Kunopegos and drove a sword into Rahab’s chest. The blaze from the sword engulfed Rahab’s body, as a choked scream escaped from his lips. In the blink of an eye, Rahab disappeared into a fiery explosion. One down, six to go.

Michael glanced up in time to see the tail of Forneus coming straight for him. Bending down on one knee he swung both of his swords together above his head, slicing off the stinger on the tip of the tail a split second before it penetrated his chest. Forneus screamed in pain and withdrew towards the sea, his injured tail tucked between his legs and bleeding black slime. Before Michael could stand, Vepar plunged his triton deep into the archangel’s thigh. Vepar withdrew the triton and was about to strike again when Michael opened his mouth and let out a deafening roar.

The ground shook as Vepar dropped the triton on the sandy beach and covered his ears. Michael took advantage of the moment and blew a gust of wind from his mouth, sending Vepar high into the air. The fallen angel landed in the sea with a large splash about a mile away from the shore. The triton lying on the beach suddenly sank into the ground, disappearing beneath the sand.

Michael turned to face Beelzebub, “Three down, four to go,” he said with a kind smile. “Please just leave? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Kill him!” ordered Beelzebub, and the remaining four angels attacked in unison.

Kunopegos charged with his spear held low, while Seere continued to fire his arrows at a mind boggling speed. At the same time, Abaddon flanked Michael and attacked with his sword held high. Moving quickly, Michael grabbed the tip of the spear in Kunopegos’s hand and guided the blade into the sand at his feet. With the strength of a dozen men, Michael lifted Kunopegos’s body into the air and flung him over his shoulder. The fallen angel soared through the air, crashing into Seere just as he was about to let go of another arrow.

Abaddon immediately swung his sword down on Michael from behind, clipping the archangel’s wing. Without hesitation Michael deflected the next blow with one of his swords, while plunging the other one deep into Abaddon’s throat. The fallen angel’s eyes widened as Michael twisted the blade, severing Abaddon’s head from his shoulders. Before his head hit the sand Abaddon’s body, head included, de-materialized, and in an instant the fallen angel was gone. Michael turned to face the remaining three.

Kunopegos regained his footing, but instead of charging Michael with his spear, he hurled it through the air like a lightning bolt. The swords in Michael’s hands began to spin in circles like the propellers of a helicopter, spinning so fast that they chopped the spear to bits before it reached its destination. Michael turned to face Beelzebub’s sword, as Kunopegos jumped on him from behind.

Kunopegos clung to Michael’s back, as the archangel and Beelzebub stood fighting toe to toe. Kunopegos had no weapon with which to hurt Michael and was more of a nuisance than anything else. The black sludge from Beelzebub’s body flung about with each swing of the fallen angel’s sword. Whenever the tar-like substance came in contact with the ground it bubbled up, and then like acid sank into the earth. Several of the drops landed on Michael’s arm, only to be burned away by the translucent glow radiating from his suit.

Kunopegos was not so fortunate. A few of the black drops landed on his flesh, burning through to the bone beneath. He screamed and released his grip on Michael’s shoulders. Momentarily caught off guard, Kunopegos was shocked to see that Michael had turned to face him. He was sure that the archangel would plunge one of his fiery swords through him. But instead, Michael grabbed Kunopegos and held him between himself and Seere, using him as a body shield.

Expecting to feel the hot blade from Michael’s sword, Kunopegos was surprised to instead feel the cold steal of a dozen arrows slice into his back. Michael tossed the fallen angel to the side and hurled one of his swords at Seere. Surprised and caught off guard, Seere raised his arm to protect his chest. The sword cut through his large bicep, lodging itself securely in his shoulder. His bow dropped from his hand, as he tried in vain to remove the sword impaled in his shoulder.

Michael turned to face Beelzebub and Kunopegos but Kunopegos was gone. All that remained was a trail of blood leading back into the depths of the sea from which the fallen angel had emerged. The smug smile vanished from Beelzebub’s face, as he realized that he’d lost the battle. Seere, who’d finally managed to remove the sword from his powerful shoulder, crawled onto the back of his winged horse and flew away, but not before casting a glare of hatred towards Michael.

“And then there was one,” said Michael, lifting his sword towards Beelzebub.

“This isn’t over yet!” shouted Beelzebub before disappearing into a puff of dark smoke. All that remained where he’d been standing was a puddle of black sludge.

Michael glanced down at his thigh and watched as the wound healed itself from within. He touched his wing and that too was healed. He looked up at the sky and nodded with a smile, knowing that God had healed him.

“Thank you Lord!” prayed Michael gratefully.

Although he’d won the battle he felt no delight. Killing angels was not something that he enjoyed, but they’d made their decision and forced his hand. They’d have to live with the consequences of their actions.

Remembering his mission, Michael turned around and began scanning the soldiers on the battlefield. After a moment his eyes locked on Jesse Morgan. The Marine was fighting in hand-to-hand combat with one of the hybrid soldiers designed by the Communist Muslim Coalition. In the twinkle of an eye, Michael appeared beside the soldiers. The hybrid lifted Jesse off the ground and began to squeeze. It was only a matter of time before he snapped Jesse’s spine.

Michael looked at the grenades strapped to the hybrids chest and moved one back and forth. Sunlight glinted off the metallic surface and caught Jesse’s attention. Michael could tell by the look in Jesse’s eye that the Marine understood. Now if he could just break free from the hybrids powerful grasp. “His nose is vulnerable,” Michael softly whispered into Jesse’s ear.

The Marine’s eyes widened signifying that the message had been received. Jesse bit down hard on the hybrids nose and blood gushed into his mouth. The hybrid threw Jesse away from him and Michael watched, as the super-soldier exploded into a thousand pieces. Expecting to see relief on Jesse’s face, Michael was surprised to see fear instead. He turned around to see what the Marine was looking at.

Across the beach were a dozen more super-soldiers, marching towards Jesse in tight formation. Jesse had barely been able to survive the encounter with one hybrid, giving Michael doubts about the Marine’s ability to fight off a dozen more. An air-to-ground bomb was launched from an American fighter above giving Michael an idea. He looked up at the missile and guided it straight into the middle of the tightly grouped super-soldiers. The explosion sent sand and severed limbs high into the air, showering Jesse in a cascade of debris. Michael of course was untouched by fragments from the wreckage.

Jesse stood up and looked around the beach, realizing that he was the last American standing. Thousands of enemy troops had flooded onto the beach and were headed in his direction. Michael could almost see the Marine’s brain working, as he weighed his options. “Hide and live to fight another day,” whispered Michael.

Jesse appeared to agree with the angel’s suggestion, because he immediately dove into a nearby foxhole and frantically began to cover himself with sand and bodies of fallen comrades. Michael contributed to the effort by spreading out his wings and covering the hole that Jesse was hiding in. Russian and Chinese soldiers marched passed with their weapons held ready, looking for anyone to shoot. But thanks to the invisible shield provided by Michael’s wings, Jesse couldn’t be seen.

Michael’s work was done, at least for the moment. Before he vanished into the wind, the archangel left a brown, paper wrapped package on the ground by Jesse’s foxhole.

Behind Enemy Lines

World War III – Day Three

San Diego, California

Jesse awoke with a start. For a moment he couldn’t remember where he was, or why he was covered in dirt. He gently brushed away the tiny grains of sand on his eye lids before opening them. Everything was dark and the smell of rotting flesh was overpowering. He couldn’t tell if it was dark because the sun had set, or if it was because he was buried under a heap of sand. The memories of the assault on the beach slowly began to creep through the cloud of fog that seemed to envelop his brain. Remembering the superhuman strength of the hybrid soldiers, Jesse’s heart began to pound. It was all he could do to contain his fear and not immediately jump up and start running. But he was now behind enemy lines, where could he run to?

Jesse tried to extend his legs, which were curled up in the fetal position, but for some reason they wouldn’t move. In fact, he couldn’t even feel them. The muscles in his legs had fallen asleep and weren’t responding to the commands his brain was sending. Jesse reached down and began to rub his legs, trying to get the blood flowing. It worked. After a few minutes, the numbness in his legs transformed into a tingling sensation. Thank God he hadn’t tried to stand up and run, he wouldn’t have gotten very far.

The tingling sensation finally subsided and Jesse stretched his legs, extending them as far as he could. It felt good to be able to move around, even if just a little. Above, and around him, he could hear the sounds of men and machinery, as soldiers and vehicles passed by. Although the voices were muffled, he could tell they weren’t speaking English.

They must have taken the beach.

Jesse slowly and carefully, so as not to attract any attention, began to dig himself out of the half buried foxhole. With just his face exposed above the sand, he gazed up at the dark, night sky dotted with thousands of twinkling stars. A shooting star flashed across the sky, bringing a smile to his face. He took a deep breath, sucking in the cool, fresh air and slowly exhaled. It felt good to be alive.

Jesse couldn’t believe that he’d survived. It didn’t seem possible. He began to think of all the Marines in his platoon that he’d watched die on the battlefield. Had anyone else lived, or was he the only one? And if others had survived, where were they now? They probably would have pulled back to defend the city and its inhabitants.

Jillian!

Realizing that Jillian was all alone, Jesse almost called out her name, which would have easily given away his position. It was then that he realized he still held her picture, gripped tightly in his hand. He held the picture up to his face and stared longingly at it in the moonlight. Was she still alive, and if so, where was she? He’d told her if anything happened to head for his grandfather’s sailboat. But was she able to get there undetected, or had she been killed in the streets like so many others? She may have even been captured and was currently being held as a prisoner somewhere.

Fear crept into Jesse’s heart, as his imagination took control of his thoughts. He desperately wanted to leave the beach and find Jillian, but wasn’t sure if it was safe. Although it was dark, there were still thousands of enemy troops to contend with, and he didn’t even have a gun.

Jesse slowly removed more of the dirt that concealed him and lifted his head up above the ground. He could see large vessels docked on the beach, with ramps leading up to the cargo within. Some of the ships held soldiers, while some held vehicles and others carried various supplies. Jesse removed more of the sand and felt something crunch underneath his hand. A brown, paper package, half covered in sand, was lying next to his foxhole. The package looked strange and out of place. Curious, Jesse brushed the remaining sand off of the paper wrapping and pulled the package closer to him.

A string was tied around the package, holding the brown paper in place. With blood covered fingers, Jesse carefully removed the gift from the wrapping. Inside, he found a neatly folded uniform, but it wasn’t American, it was Russian. Folded within the fabric of the uniform he found a fully loaded pistol. The pistol was of a different make and model from any that he’d ever used before. Of course it didn’t matter. Regardless of the manufacturer, all guns shared the same principle design and function.

Jesse wondered where the package had come from. He didn’t remember seeing it when he’d hid in the foxhole after the beach had been overrun, but that didn’t mean anything. It could have fallen off of one of the passing vehicles, or maybe a soldier had dropped it. Of course none of those seemed like viable explanations. Jesse knew from his years in the Marine Corp that armies didn’t bring extra uniforms into battle. Unless…maybe they were planning to be here for a long time. The thought sent a shiver down his spine. Regardless of how the miraculous package had arrived, he was grateful.

He quickly changed into the Russian uniform and buried his old one beneath the sand. Not wanting to blow his cover he was careful to leave anything American behind, with the exception of Jillian’s picture, which he gingerly folded and placed in his breast pocket. He strapped the unfamiliar gun to the holster on his waist and examined his reflection in a nearby pool of water.

Perfect!

Besides the fact that his reflection appeared eerie in the moonlit puddle, everything seemed in order. He didn’t speak a word of Russian so he’d have to avoid talking to anyone. Jesse brushed the remaining sand from his uniform and started walking across the beach towards San Diego. It wasn’t until he’d passed by several soldiers and received rigid salutes that he realized the uniform that he wore was that of a high ranking officer.

So much the better.

Jesse made it off the beach without incident and quickly ducked into the shadows of a nearby alley. Although he’d instructed Jillian to head for the sailboat, he decided to stop by their apartment first to make sure she wasn’t still there. He’d pass by the apartment on his way to the sailboat anyway.

Not only did the uniform fit like a glove, but it also proved to be worth its weight in gold, as he walked passed one unit of soldiers after another. No one seemed to notice or want to talk with him. One of the benefits of being an officer was that the enlisted men steered clear, and wouldn’t engage in conversation unless the officer himself started it. Thank God the uniform was an officer’s, because Jesse didn’t even know how to say the word hello in Russian.

When he arrived outside of his apartment, Jesse found a small unit of Russian soldiers standing in a circle. On the pavement between them, he could see the belongings of civilians strewn about. The soldiers were casting lots, trying to decide who got to keep what. Jesse quietly walked passed the group, hoping not to draw any attention. But when he saw a diamond studded necklace lying among the items, his heart skipped a beat and he almost tripped over his own feet. He’d given Jillian that necklace on their one year anniversary.

If the necklace was out here, then that meant they’d already been inside his apartment. And if they’d already been inside his apartment, then where was Jillian? Jesse had come too far to turn back now, so he took a deep breath and climbed the steps leading to the buildings front door. He made a bee line for his apartment and found the door wide open, dangling from its hinges.

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.