Preemptive

My Home Page My Drawings S.C.A.R. Preemptive Hit

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Prologue >>Yakunin strode across the polished cherry wood floor to a large fireplace lined in red rock. The fire’s orange coals looked as if they had pictures dancing across their surfaces. The eerie glow on the far wall made any of his guests nervous, which increased his sales dramatically. But this day he would not be selling goods to the “merchants” in Korea or Japan. Today he would be purchasing something of his very own—something that would cripple the defenses of one country that he despised. He turned around slowly. “Show me the paperwork,” he said in his thick Russian accent. He sat down at a large glass table, oval in shape, and ran his fingers through his thick, black hair. A man in a suit, from the far side of the table, slid a yellow folder across to Yakunin. Yakunin stopped it with a gloved hand and dumped the contents on the table. There were several papers, each a different shade of white. There was only one paper that he really cared about. He slid the green sheet of paper from the bottom of the folder and held it towards the fire. It bore the watermark of the Russian mafia. “It’s genuine,” Yakunin smiled, glancing back at the paper. The words scrawled at the bottom of the paper gave him the power to send America to its knees. Transaction Complete. To him, the sound of those words was beautiful. “May I ask what country you are after?” asked the man at the end of the table. Yakunin slammed his fists against the table. “I again have to tell you what your place is in this deal? You are to supply me with the goods and nothing more. No questions. Are we clear?”To the Russian government, Yakunin did not exist, but in the next few months he would be well known, and the Russian government would thank him someday. Part 1 The UprisingJanuary 21, 2011 1 Complete Destruction >>This was the only thing that made Jason Murdock feel whole; it made him feel complete how his palm became sore after he was through for the day with this activity. Each weekend, Jason’s father, Lyle Murdock, took him to the old shooting alley along downtown 41^st street to empty a box of Winchester 9mm 147 Gr. silver tipped bullets. This 9mm ammunition was the only type Jason and his father used. Lyle always said that these were the most accurate and that they didn’t change shape during flight quite as much as traditional bullets.Lyle Murdock always said that his only son, or child for that matter, inherited an amazing skill with firearms. Jason had developed a unique connection to his father’s Glock pistol that he was using at that moment. Later, as they were driving home, Lyle complimented Jason like he always did after shooting. He discussed some improvements for Jason to work on.“Son, tell your mom that I’m going to be working late this evening. I have three meetings to attend and a lot of paperwork to go through.”That wasn’t unusual. Jason’s father was a businessman. He sold office equipment like staplers and tape dispensers. He was high up on the pecking order, so he frequently had to attend meetings and give speeches. He often attended business trips lasting as long as three weeks at a time. Lyle rarely came home, but he always made sure to check in each night and see how everything was doing. Jason and his father pulled into the driveway of a two-story house that reflected the family’s wealth. Lyle’s job paid well, and for that reason, neither Jason nor his mom minded the man’s continuous absences. “See ya tomorrow, Jason,” Lyle said to his son as he climbed out of the car.“Bye, Dad,” Jason said and closed the car door. >> Jason was huddled up on the sofa watching television. He was shivering due to the frigid weather outside and the fact that the thermostat in his house was malfunctioning. He drank a sip from a glass of water and yawned. He rubbed his palm. It was still sore from shooting earlier.His mother, a petite Asian woman, was washing dishes in the kitchen from dinner. She occasionally glanced at a music video playing on a small television on the counter. Jason was trying to remember everything his father had told him to improve on when they were driving home earlier that day.“Dad says he’s gonna have another long day at work,” Jason said to his mom. “Says he’ll be home later tonight.”“Thanks,” Mom sighed. “I’ll keep that in mind when he returns next week.”“Mom, that’s not necessary.”“Well, you know it’s true. He always says he’ll be home later, but he doesn’t show up until a week later! And when he does come home, he always blames it on some ‘short notice business trip!’ Well, you wanna know what I think?”“Mom…”“I think it’s a bunch of crap! Business trip! Say, he’s probably off with some other woman –”“Mom! Stop it! It’s not his fault! He has a very stressful job and things come up on short notice.”Jason’s mother sighed.“You’re probably right. I’m sorry.”“It’s okay. You have a right to be mad.”“I’m not mad. But, Jason, you can’t always defend him like that. He has a duty to his family.”“Mom, his duty to this family is providing a good living environment for us, and,” Jason spread his arms, motioning to the whole house, which many people called a mansion, “he appears to be doing just that!”“Jason, that’s not the ‘duty’ I was thinking of. What I mean is –”“I know what you mean! But if he didn’t spend this much time at his job, we wouldn’t be sitting here right now! We would be in some old trailer –”Jason’s mother couldn’t take it anymore. “Alright, that’s enough, Jason! Go to your room! I don’t want to see you again until tomorrow!”“But –”“Now!”“Fine!” Jason said and hurried up the stairs to his bedroom. He slammed the door behind him and collapsed on his bed. He wanted to cry, but resisted. Then at that very moment, his life was changed forever.A blinding flash of red light outside Jason’s window caused him to fall from his bed. “What the –”As he was attempting to climb to his feet, he fell again. This time it felt like the rug had been pulled out from under him, as he hit the floor and slammed his head against his wooden bed. Disoriented, he tried to stand, but again fell as the floor shook violently. Then came the sound. The deep rumble, growing louder and louder until it was an ear-splitting roar. The roar continued like a heartbeat, following the pulse of the shaking house. Boom. Boom. Boom. The flashes continued also, leading the heartbeat. The lights in the house flickered then died. The roar settled back into a rumble, and the house stopped shaking. Then all was silent again.Jason caught his breath and stood up. He opened the curtains of the window in his room and just stared out into the city.Jason lived at the top of a hill overlooking the city. Even in the growing darkness, he could see the city, or what was left of it, very clearly. To get a better view he went downstairs and stepped out onto the back deck. His jaw dropped open as he saw what lay in front of him. Off to the left he saw a large neighborhood up in flames. He swiveled his head to the right and saw a black, toxic cloud billowing from an industrial facility of some sort. Houses were reduced to ash; cars to dust. For the first time in his life Jason felt that he was in real danger.He then realized that his father’s corporation was not there anymore. He could not see any of his father’s building except for a large pile of rubble where it should have been.Jason choked up, but then he felt a sense of dread wash over him. He realized that he had not seen his mom since the explosions had occurred. Then a brief happiness washed over him as he felt a hand rest on his shoulder, and he knew his mom felt the same pain that caused the tear to run down his cheek; the same pain that was in his heart at that very moment. It was as if his heart was pushing the sadness through his veins, sharing it with the rest of his body. His head was spinning, his limbs were shaking, and his gut felt sick. Jason’s mom wiped the tear from his eye and hugged him. Why did it have to end like this, right now? His dad was part of his life.

“I’m so sorry, Jason,” his mom sobbed while she comforted him. “There was nothing we could do.”

Jason and his mother stood there for several long minutes until the clock in the house struck ten.

Jason went up to his room, fell on his bed, and cried.

>>He was woken up by the sound of a diesel truck rumbling in front of his house. The engine stopped, he heard two doors slam, and footsteps were coming towards the house. Then there was a knock on the door.Jason got up, still dressed from the night before, and ran downstairs. He watched his mom unlatch the door and opened it. In the doorway, two hardcore Marines stood, both bearing the emblem of Sergeant.“Is Jason Murdock here, ma’am?” said one of the Marines. ‘JOHNSON’ was stenciled across his left shirt pocket.“Well—” “I’m here,” Jason said. “Get your things, Murdock, and come with us,” the other Marine said. He wore the name WRIGHT. “What? Why?” Jason demanded.“I don’t understand—” Jason’s mom stuttered.“Let him go,” Wright said.“What do you want from me?”“Nothing. We just need you for a few days. You’ll be back soon.”“No,” Jason’s mom said.“It’s alright, Mom. I’ll go.” Before his mom had time to protest, Jason slid back to his room and packed clothes for two days, a book, and two water bottles. His thoughts drifted to his dad’s unnecessary death and he reconsidered his thinking. The Marines were recruiting him. Jason knew the code to his dad’s gun safe, so he typed in the code, watched the door open, and removed the 9mm pistol that he had used the day before. Just a precaution, Jason thought to himself. Checking to confirm it was loaded, he followed the Marines out the door.Jason sat in the back of a military supply truck with his legs folded up against his chest. There were fifteen other men in the truck but he was the only one who seemed nervous. The Marines sat on their backpacks with assault rifles between their legs. They were XM-8 rifles, Jason noted, originally planned for release next year. Their faces showed no expression and they were silent. Jason was cold, confused, and hungry. Not only hungry for food but for an explanation from these Marines as well. Everything was happening so quickly. It was all rushing past as if there were only a few hours left in the world. Maybe there were, Jason thought to himself. He considered the possibility of more attacks on other cities. If there was a strike this quickly, this suddenly, then the attacking country would most likely hit again. “Where are we going?” Jason asked Master Gunnery Sergeant Rick Johnson, who was sitting across from him.“We’re taking you to a warehouse several miles from here where we will explain everything to you. Right now, it’s not safe –” Interrupting Johnson was the sharp crack of gunfire. One of the Marines grunted and slumped to the floor. Jason was puzzled. Then, he noticed the three dots of light streaming through the thick canvas of the supply truck and the blood on the back of the Marine that had collapsed. “Get down, Boy!” Sergeant Major Stanley Wright shouted at Jason. “It’s an ambush!”A moment later, Jason lay sprawled out on the floor of the truck, alone, listening to the sounds of gunfire, explosions, and the cry of soldiers. Every now and then a few bullets punctured the canvas cover. Then all was silent.Jason didn’t know what the result of this exchange of bullets was, but he hoped for the best. That was when he heard gravel crunching as someone stepped toward the truck. He buried his face in his pack as he heard the footsteps stop. He heard the buzz of a zipper and light flooded the truck. A rough hand grabbed him by the neck and a pistol was drilled into his ear.The last thing Jason remembered was the butt of the gun striking his head. 2Solo>>It was nighttime when Jason finally regained consciousness. He noticed he was in a small concrete room with about ten other Marines that had survived the ambush, including Sergeants Johnson and Wright (the men who had greeted his mom at the door). There was a door leading into another room with a window separating the two rooms. Jason watched as a Marine was beaten and was thrown out onto the hard floor. “Burrows! How bad is it?” Wright sat up and he coughed out blood. “It’s bad, but I’ll be alright.” Burrows pulled himself over and rested against a wall. Sergeant Johnson came over to him. “Did you tell ‘em anything?”“Look at me!” he tried to laugh but retched out blood. “Does it look like I told them anything?” “Stop talking.” A man with a foreign look and accent stood in the doorway, beating a baseball bat against his hands. “You like baseball?” He pointed at Jason.Jason didn’t answer. Instead, he backed up against the far wall, and the man advanced closer. “What are you scared of? I’m not going to hurt you.” He glanced at the bat. “Well, maybe a little bit!” He broke into laughter and grabbed Jason by the shirt. He dragged Jason through the door and shoved him into a wooden chair. “Show me identification! I want your country to know who betrayed them.”Jason stood up and reached for his back pocket where his wallet was and his hand brushed against the pistol. The pistol! They hadn’t taken it!He drew the weapon out, and before the man had time to react, the gun bucked against Jason’s palm. The bullet passed through the man’s head and shattered the window behind him. The man stared at Jason momentarily, before he collapsed onto the cold floor. Jason stood up and looked at the Marines. They just stared at him. “Where’d you learn to use a firearm, kid?” Sergeant Andrews broke the silence. “That’s some sharp shootin’, Murdock!” “I went to military school for two years,” Jason said. “And also, my dad took me to shooting ranges all the time.” “Lyle Murdock,” Johnson spoke quietly from the corner of the room. “Your father was Lyle Murdock.” “Yeah,” Jason said. “Did you know him?”“Yes I did, actually. We were friends in the Marine Corps back in 1993.” “What do you mean?”“Didn’t you know? He was in the Marine Corps for eight years!” Johnson said as if Jason had only just forgotten this revelation. “He was in the military?” Jason was frustrated. His dad had never told him, and he wondered why. Most likely, his dad wanted to hide it from him. But again, why? Maybe it was some covert operation that the government only knew about. No. Not his dad.

“Men,” Johnson's voice came, “The Sergeant Major found an air vent just large enough for young Murdock here to fit through. We might have a chance of escaping.”

Johnson looked at Jason.

“Jason, if you do this, we might all make it out of here alive.”Jason looked back at him and nodded. “You know what to do.” >>This was a tight space.It was so tight that Jason had to use his fingers and toes to inch his way along the shaft until he reached out and felt a hole near his face. Light streamed through the hole in an awkward pattern and a fan whooshed somewhere below him. He pulled himself closer and examined the hole. It was a ceiling air vent. No sound other than the fan filtered through the vent, and Jason knew this was the way out. He moved forward until his feet were above the center of the vent and shuffled his way down the four foot pipe. He felt his feet hit the sturdy vent cover and thought that he might be able to knock it out if he put enough force against it. It took just a mere stomp before the metal gave out and he collapsed into the room below. Jason rubbed his ankle and shook his head. He placed his hands on the floor as support to stand up and felt a sharp pain in his right hand. He tilted his head up and saw a large boot pinning it to the floor. The boot released Jason’s hand and he stood up, hearing the click of a gun’s safety being removed. He looked up and saw an unshaved man smiling down at him.Faster than lightning, Jason lashed toward the gun. He attempted to wrench the pistol free of the man’s grasp but the man was stronger. A lot stronger. Jason let go with one hand and swung with all his might at his opponent’s gut. His knuckles impacted against the man’s abdomen and the man loosened his grip, allowing Jason to yank the weapon free. He switched his grip on the sidearm so the barrel was pressed against his opponent’s chest, and he pulled the trigger twice. His adversary collapsed to the floor and didn’t make a move. The gunshots he fired were loud and he hoped that no one had heard him. Jason wiped blood off his hand from the man he had killed and took a deep breath. One down, he thought, who knows how many more to go. He stowed the pistol and drew out his own. Funny, he didn’t think to use his own pistol during the tussle. He opened the door that led out of the room and stepped into the hall. Two men stood just outside the door and looked startled to see him. It took Jason no more than a few seconds to put them down for good. He ran down a long hallway and came to a door on the right with a fingerprint access panel. He knew what to do. Jason walked over to the nearest of the two enemies and unsheathed a knife. He lifted the man’s arm and placed the blade of the knife against the base of his thumb. He turned his head and slashed the knife. Jason thought he was going to be sick as he saw the thumbless hand flop to the floor, and he turned away. He carried the thumb over to the access panel and rolled it across the sensor. A slight beep echoed from the panel and he heard the click of a lock. The door slid open.From inside, Jason heard a slight voice. “He actually did it.” It sounded like Wright.“Dang right he did,” boomed Sergeant Johnson. “He’s a Murdock. What did you expect?” “I just thought…”“What? Just because he’s a fifteen-year-old kid doesn’t mean he can’t do just as many things as you can,” Johnson interrupted.“Which wouldn’t be hard,” Jason heard another Marine murmur. Chuckles erupted from the group of soldiers. Wright became silent, and Jason could see that he was burning up inside. “C’mon men,” Johnson ordered. “We need to get out of here before the next guard shift comes by.” The Marines stood up and the Sergeant came up to Jason. Johnson looked him straight in the eye. “Thank you, Jason,” he said and placed a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Anytime,” Jason replied uneasily.“Really, huh? I’ll have to hold you to that.” He slapped Jason on the back. “There’s something that I need you to do.”“What is it?” Jason asked nervously.

Johnson smiled. “Don’t worry about it now. I’ll explain it to you later.”

The Marines filed out of the room and stripped the rifles off the men in the hallway. Burrows handed one of the weapons to Johnson.“Let’s go,” Wright demanded, “before someone comes.” They started down the long halls of the complex. Johnson was in the lead, followed by Burrows, Jason, and the other Marines. Wright brought up the rear. Jason was thinking that the halls would never end, when Johnson yelled, “Contacts! Twelve o’clock!” Johnson knelt down in front of Burrows and the three contacts turned toward them. Sergeants Burrows and Johnson leveled their rifles and fired. The three enemies dropped to the floor.Johnson stayed down for a moment, sweeping the area with his rifle. No more enemies emerged, and they continued down the hall to where the men had been shot. The area was similar to a lobby. It had a desk with two flat panel computers across from a glass automatic door. Two burgundy leather chairs sat on either side of the door. Obviously, whoever ran this place was doing a pretty good job with keeping people from suspecting anything. “Burrows, come with me,” Johnson said. “The rest of you stay here.” Johnson stepped towards the door and it slid open. A burst of freezing air brushed across Jason’s face and snow sprayed in through the door. Snow? How could it be snowing? They were still in L.A., weren’t they? Jason thought to himself. Now that he was thinking about it, he remembered that he had been out cold. They could have been in Siberia for all he knew.“Dang!” Burrows exclaimed, covered in snow. “It’s cold out here.” Burrows shuddered. “Stop whining, Marine,” said Johnson, “and get your butt out there before I shoot it.”“Yes, sir,” complained Burrows.Burrows turned to walk out the door but stopped suddenly. “What’s the hold up?” Johnson raised one eyebrow. But then Jason saw the look on his face change. Burrows staggered to turn around and then Jason knew immediately why he had stopped. Blood spread on his fatigues from a gaping wound in his chest and he stared at Jason. His legs buckled out from under him and he collapsed to the floor. “Get down!” Johnson ordered Jason. Jason fell to the ground and slithered his way to where the Sergeant was already on the ground. But no more bullets flew. “What happened,” Jason asked.“There’s a sniper not too far from here. He’s using a suppressor and the wind to drown out the sound and I’m sure he is using infrared to see us through the snow.” Sergeant Johnson placed his hand over his heart and knelt down next to Burrows. Jason watched as he pocketed the Marine’s dog tags and reached for the fallen comrade’s weapon. He picked it up and handed it to Jason. “You need this more than anyone of us.”“Thanks,” Jason smiled. “Okay, follow me and stay close to the ground. I don’t want it to happen to anyone else.” The Marines dropped to the floor.“Jason, stay right behind me.” Johnson panted. “And if you see anyone, I want you to aim and pull the trigger. Don’t hesitate.”“Yes, sir,” he replied and shuffled closer to the sergeant. “Let’s go, men!” Jason followed Sergeant Johnson out the sliding doors and into the snow. Instantly, his hands were numb and his throat burned from the cold. Only in jeans and a sweatshirt he was chilled to the bone. Snow melted against his body and seeped through his clothes, and fresh snow melted on his back. No more shots were fired at them and Jason figured it was because they were so close to the ground that the sniper didn’t have a clear shot. Soon, they reached what looked like a small storage shed. Johnson opened a wooden door quickly and Jason collapsed inside. After watching Burrows die, he had made up his mind what he was going to do. >>After Sergeant Johnson helped the other Marines into the storage shed, he slumped against the wall and gave a low whistle. “Whew! That was a close one.” “What do you mean ‘a close one’?” Wright snapped. “One of our best men is dead!”“I know,” Johnson agreed, “but it could’ve been a lot worse.” Johnson looked around the shed. It had shelves lined with canned food and water bottles. But there was one rack in the far end of the building that held about twenty of the same rifles that he and Jason had salvaged… Jason! Where was he? Johnson spun around to the other Marines. “Where’s Jason?” he said frantically.The other men mumbled and shrugged. “He left,” Wright said from the corner of the shed. He had obviously found a pack of cigars on a shelf because smoke billowed from the tip of a large object in his mouth. “You let him go?” Johnson shrieked. “Are you crazy?”“You want to shoot me?” Wright tossed the cigar on the ground and crushed it under his boot. “Do it.”“Now you’re just being stupid,” Johnson snarled. “How thick is that skull of your’s?” Wright stepped toward Johnson and shoved him in the chest. Johnson shoved him back, harder.“You’re out of line, soldier,” Johnson warned.Johnson saw Wright bring his arm back to punch, but suddenly the lower left-hand pane in the window to his left suddenly shattered, and one of the Marines standing at the far end of the shed clutched his chest with a frightened look, coughed slightly, then collapsed to the ground. “What the…” Wright lowered his arm slowly. The pane, next to the one that had shattered, exploded in a fury of glass shards and another Marine stumbled back against the wall and fell next to his buddy. >>Jason pulled himself up over a ledge, following the direction that he had heard another suppressed gunshot. The click of a cartridge being snapped from a weapon’s chamber told him he was very close. He inched his way forward through the snow, careful not to be heard or seen. There was a muzzle flash only a few feet from his face and he almost gasped aloud. Had the sniper seen him?The snow was coming down so thick that Jason could hardly see his hand in front of his face. He knew the sniper hadn’t seen him but he was still nervous. He slithered inch by inch towards the place where he had seen the flash, when suddenly, his cheek brushed against the cold metal of a Dragunov Sniper Rifle. Jason froze, his t-shirt covered in snow and his whole body numb. The sniper still hadn’t seen him. He heard the sniper reloading the gun, unaware that Jason was so close. He pulled out the Glock from his jeans and leveled it. He could just make out the dark silhouette of the shooter. His finger began to close around the trigger. Click! The gun didn’t fire. Jason inspected the gun. The clip was full but the chamber was still empty. The gun had jammed. Just as Jason realized this, a hand wrapped around his face. He tried to scream but the sound wouldn’t get past his lips. He heard a voice whisper behind him, “Sshh… It’s me, Jason.” Jason recognized the voice of Sergeant Johnson immediately. “Jason, go back to the storage shed. I will take care of this guy.” >>Jason closed the wooden door to the shed behind him and looked up at the other Marines. He was freezing and out of breath. It was tough finding the shed because the snow was so thick and his footprints had already been covered up by fresh snow. He ended up following the half-covered tracks of Sergeant Johnson back to the shed. Now the Marines were looking down at him in dismay. “I’m sorry,” Jason said. “I was just trying to help.” “You could have been killed!” one of the Marines shouted.Wright smiled. “He’s a kid. He doesn’t think.” Jason wanted to lay into Wright but he restrained himself. That probably wouldn’t end up very well. “Jason,” the same Marine said. “Ignore Wright. But still, you might be the only one who could save the U.S. and you go putting your life in…” “What?” Jason cut him off. “What do you mean ‘save the U.S.’? Tell me what’s going on!” he demanded.“Jason, forget what I said,” the Marine said. “When we get to a safe place, I’m sure Johnson will explain everything to you. But for now, let’s just worry about how we’re going to get out of here.”Jason nodded. He would soon know what was going on. The Marine held out his hand. “I’m Corporal Locke.” Jason took the hand of the smiling lieutenant. Suddenly, the door of the shed burst open and Locke pushed Jason to the side. Locke drew out his pistol and his eyes narrowed. He smiled as Sergeant Johnson jumped in, panting, and closed the door behind him. Jason could see the fear in Johnson's eyes. Locke’s smile vanished. “What’s wrong?”“We can’t stay here.” Johnson said. “The snow has cleared up just enough for me to see the main building. They have spotlights all over the place. They have armed soldiers and mortars!” Jason’s jaw dropped. How were they going to get out of this one? Suddenly, there was a deafening explosion and the ground shook. Glass jars shook and fell off the shelves. “C’mon,” Johnson yelled. “We have to go now!” The Marines filed out the door, some carrying weapons, others following close behind, weaponless. “Stay close behind me,” Johnson said to Jason. “We can’t afford to lose you.” Jason nodded and followed Johnson out the door. As soon as he and most of the others exited, the shed exploded behind them. Jason was propelled face-first into the snow. He rolled onto his back and was overwhelmed with lightheadedness. The world began to drift away. He could barely hear the voice of Sergeant Johnson asking if he was alright. The world around him faded and he fell into unconsciousness. 3Steve Spinelli>>Jason opened his eyes slightly. His vision was blurry and he could just make out the dark shapes of several standing around him. He rubbed his eyes and his sight cleared to some extent. He could now see where he was. It looked like a small warehouse with conveyor belts and crates stacked against the walls. He noticed that the men standing around him were the Marines and that most everyone was here except Johnson. “Where is Sergeant Johnson?” Jason asked, yawning and stretching. He pulled the burlap sack from under his head and sat up. He tried to stand, but a sharp pain in his right leg caused him to collapse back onto the hard concrete floor of the warehouse. He watched as Sergeant Wright lit a smoke and squatted next to him. He poked Jason in the chest. “Johnson’s alright,” he said. “But you don’t worry about him now. He’s got some things to deal with.” Wright puffed on the cigarette. “You know the code to your daddy’s gun safe, don’t you?”“Yeah,” Jason answered. “Why?” “Just makin’ sure. We wouldn’t have wanted to come all this way for nothin’.”Jason looked at Wright. “What is in my dad’s gun safe?” “You will know when the time is right,” Wright said. “But until the Sergeant comes back, I am in charge, and if you don’t cooperate, there will be consequences.”“Consequences!” Jason screamed.“Now, now, Murdock—” “You brought me here against my will,” Jason interrupted. “All I want to do is help. I won’t need any ‘consequences’.”“We’ll see about that.” Wright whispered to another Marine for a couple seconds. “Tell me what the code is to your father’s safe, right now,” Wright ordered. “Why should I tell you?” Jason asked. He didn’t want to go giving out the code not knowing why. Suddenly, Wright pulled out a pistol and aimed it at Jason's head.“You will tell me right now or I will kill you!” Wright roared. “You have to the count of three. If you aren’t going to tell us, we won’t need you anymore!”Jason couldn’t tell Wright the code. He wouldn’t pull the trigger. Even if he would, he would never get any information out of Jason. “One!” Wright had started counting.“Two!” Then Jason knew. Wright was going to pull the trigger. The crazed man would kill him, right then and there. Jason closed his eyes and waited.“Three!” Then he heard the inevitable gunshot. >>At first, Jason thought he was dead, but someone pulling on his arm told him a different story. He opened his eyes to see the face of Corporal Locke staring at him. Wright was laying facedown on the floor right next to Jason. There was a bullet wound in his back. Locke holstered his sidearm and helped Jason up. “I couldn’t just let him do it,” Locke said. “Thank you,” Jason smiled to show his appreciation. Jason heard footsteps and saw Sergeant Johnson rounding a stack of crates.“I heard the gunshot! What happened?” Then Johnson saw the body of Sergeant Wright. He looked up at Locke. “I knew he would try to kill you, Jason. I just knew it. Thank you, Corporal.”Johnson looked back at Jason. “It’s time you received an explanation.” >>Johnson sat down next to Jason and began an unveiling explanation.“It seems that we always have a rebel on our team—someone who wants to take matters into their own hands. When I stepped outside to make an important phone call to the president, Wright was in charge of the team for the moment. Our policy is that no one can question authority, so no one tried to intervene when he threatened you—no one except Locke. And we should all thank him for that.”“So why did you take me from my home?” Jason was getting restless.“Hold your horses, Jason, I’m getting there.” He smiled slightly. “Have you ever heard of the Russian constitutional crisis of 1993?” “No,” Jason responded.“The crisis began on September 21, when the Russian legislature opposed President Boris Yeltsin’s acts to consolidate power in Russia,” Johnson began. “On October 15, Yeltsin ordered a referendum on a new constitution. Congress declined the order and attempted to impeach Yeltsin. Yeltsin narrowly escaped impeachment as the votes fell 72 short of the 689 required for a 2/3 majority. “Russia was on the brink of a civil war. The legislators were even barricaded inside the Russian White House and were massacred by tank artillery. The conflict lasted ten days, and during that time, there was a great deal of street violence, resulting in nearly two hundred deaths and over four hundred injuries. That was the deadliest fighting in Moscow since the Bolshevik Revolution. When this happened, Vice President Rutskoy knew that Yeltsin was making a grab for special powers. From this, the president and vice president became rivals.”“How does this relate to the attack on Los Angeles?” “We’re still not sure that it does, but some new evidence has pointed in that direction.”“What evidence?”“We have just received evidence that the former president had contacts in the Russian mafia and that he still had a great deal of power. The power comes from his brother, Aleksandr Yeltsin, who is currently second in command of the Russian Army, and from Dmitri Yakunin, who is the leader of the Russian Mafia. There’s something going on between them that is not right. I will e-mail you Yakunin’s file, which contains his contacts, family members and other information crucial to figuring this whole thing out.”“You said ‘e-mail’ me the file,” Jason said. “Does that mean you’re letting me go?”“Yes,” Johnson responded. “For now I just want you to do one little thing for me. Have you heard of an EMP?”“Of course.”“EMP stands for Electromagnetic Pulse. The U.S. military is designing an EMP missile that is capable of hitting any target in the world and frying anything carrying an electric current. It inflicts permanent damage within a radius of a hundred and fifty miles. This would be the first EMP attack ever in history. But our goal is not to launch the missile. Our goal is to threaten Russia enough to get them to surrender.“Believe it or not Jason, but your father, Lyle Murdock, was the lead designer for this particular EMP.”“What?” Jason didn’t believe what he was hearing. “My dad?” “Yes. That is why we took you from your house. You are the only other person besides your father that knows the code to his safe.” “But my dad –”“I know it’s hard to believe.”“If you just wanted in my dad’s safe why did you have to confiscate me?”“There are many reasons to that action, some against my will, but I have to agree with the president on this one. You will know these reasons when the time is right.” Johnson scrawled what looked like an address on a small piece of paper. “Here.” He handed the paper to Jason. “Inside your father’s safe is the last known copy of the plans to the EMP missile. I need you to retrieve a small metal ammunition box from inside the safe, labeled with a serial number of all zeros, and take it to this man. He’ll know what to do. There is a data chip in the box that has the plans for the EMP. The fate of the U.S. rests in your hands, Jason. You have to do this.” >>Jason felt the cool breeze off the Pacific batting at his face. He could smell the seaweed and could taste the thick, salty air. This was not the place he would expect a government official to work. There was a long dock stretching into the ocean for over two-hundred yards. There was a large boat covered in mildew floating in the water. A rope held it against the very end of the dock. Jason took a few steps onto the dock and looked at the piece of paper in his hand again. Steve Spinelli 13629 Saltwater Rd. He had followed Saltwater Road. The road had led to here. There were no markings on the boat that Jason could see and there were three Wave-Runners drifting near the dock. Jason was about to turn and leave when, suddenly, three figures in black diving suits surfaced. One of them pulled out a small, black object. A pistol with a silencer. Jason was frozen with fear. There was nowhere he could go that would protect him now. He knew what these people were after and he knew that they were Russians. There was no hope. Then, something happened that probably saved Jason’s life. He heard the boards of the dock groan under him after it was already too late. The boards were very rotten and they gave way. He fell through; the sharp splinters from the boards tore into his arms and legs and he splashed into the ocean. He opened his mouth to yell but inhaled water instead. There was a cloud of red in the water, and Jason noticed that blood was leaking out of deep cuts in his arms and legs. His head was about three feet below the surfaced and he flailed to keep afloat. When he turned around, he saw that his shirt was tangled on a bolt sticking out of a pole on the dock.He grabbed his shirt and tugged. It was no use. Jason began to wonder whether he was going to die from lack of oxygen or from blood loss first. He yanked and tugged but his shirt wouldn’t come free. Then he realized he could just take it off. He discarded the shirt and began to swim upward. Then it hit him.During the whole ordeal, he had somehow lost the data chip. He looked up for a brief moment and was horrified by what he saw. The three figures that were previously trying to kill him were now under water. One of them was holding the small, metal ammunition box containing the data chip. The trio swam quickly to the surface and Jason followed shortly behind. The diver holding the box reached the dock first, and was already jetting off in his Wave-Runner. Another followed shortly behind. The third diver was in a desperate attempt to start his Wave-Runner when Jason climbed onto the dock. The motor began to purr and Jason ran towards him. He gunned the engine just as Jason sprang off the dock. He hit the diver full-force and they both splashed into the water. Jason followed up with a strike to his head and the diver began to float limply on the water.He quickly swam toward the idling Wave-Runner and jumped into the seat. He pushed the thumb throttle to the limits and burst forward, a fountain of water spraying from the back of the vehicle. He could see the other two divers up ahead of him. His Wave-Runner was more powerful than theirs, so he gained on them quickly. The divers turned to look at the Wave-Runner approaching them and they realized it was not their buddy that was coming, but the fifteen-year-old boy they had stolen the data chip from. Jason shortened the gap between him and the others as he splashed through the water. He knew that the diver on the left was in possession of the data chip. As soon as the two Russians got the picture that Jason was coming after them, they sped up. But they were no match for the beast Jason was on. Jason split the gap between the two of them. He looked back and forth at the two Russians to see who would make the first move. The one on the left did. He pulled out a black pistol with no silencer and aimed. He squeezed the trigger and Jason cut the throttle. The gunshot rang out across the bay and the bullet that the gun had spat out sliced the air where Jason had once been. It continued past him and collided with the diver to his right. The diver was thrown off the Wave-Runner into the water. It looked as if the left diver swore, and he turned his body around on the seat. He aimed the gun at Jason and fired. Jason ducked and the bullets narrowly missed him.The Russian cut all power in hopes of letting Jason zip by and leave him an open target. But he never anticipated what Jason was going to do next. Jason turned directly toward him and goosed the throttle. Just before the two machines collided, he saw a scared look in the Russian’s eyes. Jason sprang from the watercraft. A millisecond later, he heard the explosion. When Jason surfaced, he took a moment to stare at the wreckage. The two Wave-Runners were totaled and were now just a pile of twisted metal and plastic, covered in flames that were batting in the wind. He swam towards the remaining Wave-Runner that had once been driven by the diver who was shot. On the front of the seat sat the metal ammo box. Jason climbed onto the vehicle and jetted back to the dock. A kind looking African-American man waiting, reaching a hand out towards him. Jason clasped his hand and was pulled onto the dock. “Thanks,” Jason smiled.“I’m Steve Spinelli,” the man said, and after looking over Jason, smiled. “You must be Jason Murdock.”“Yes.” “Well, come in. I believe you have something for me.” Steve Spinelli motioned for Jason to climb aboard the boat. It dipped slightly as Jason stepped on board. Spinelli pulled out a key and opened the door to the cabin. Whatever the boat appeared to be on the outside was the complete opposite of the inside. The whole area was filled with high-tech equipment. There were computers, monitors, security cameras, and many other things that Jason could not identify. There was a safe and a refrigerator in the back corner of the cabin.“Like my disguise?” Spinelli chuckled.He opened a tool chest and pulled out what looked like giant wire cutters. He clamped them down on the lock connected to the metal box, and the lock snapped free. He opened the box and pulled out a normal-looking memory stick. He inserted it into a USB port on his computer and, almost instantly, a pattern of numbers, letters, and symbols filled the screen in an eerie, green glow.“Yes, yes,” said Spinelli. “This is it. I’ll have it decoded in less than an hour.”He sat down and began typing vigorously on a keyboard. Jason surmised that that was his ticket to farewell, and he climbed off the boat. 4PursuitIt was Saturday morning when the phone rang. Jason was sitting on a couch staring blankly at a magazine. It was four in the afternoon and he wasn’t expecting a phone call. His mom was grocery shopping at the only store that was open today. He stood up and yawned as he walked over to the counter. He pulled the telephone off the receiver and held it to his ear.“Hello?” he said.“Hello, Jason. It’s Sergeant Johnson.”“Hello, sir.” Jason was startled to hear from him so soon.“Mr. Spinelli just contacted me. You know that data chip you brought to him?”“Yeah?”“It was a decoy.”“What?” Jason said, stunned.“Yes, it was just a billion pages of nonsense, ranging from recipes to job résumés.”“Are you sure?” Jason was skeptical.“Spinelli is the best there is. He wouldn’t make a mistake.”“Then where is the real data chip?” Jason asked.“That’s what we’re trying to find out. We have our best men working on it, but for now, all I need is your cooperation.”“Okay,” Jason said, “what do you want me to do?”“Is there a navigation device in that Mitsubishi in your garage?” Johnson asked.“How did you –”“It doesn’t matter. Do you, or do you not?”“Yes,” Jason answered, “why?” “Write this down.”Jason fumbled for a piece of paper and wrote down the address that Johnson told him.“Go to this address,” Johnson said. “It is an abandoned government headquarters. I have evidence that says the data chip is there.”“Alright, but I don’t have my driver’s license yet.”The phone was dead.Just then, there was a knock on the front door. Jason went over, undid the latch, and opened the door. There, stood a man – clearly Russian – pistol leveled at Jason’s head. They had found him. Before the man had time to react, Jason slammed the door in his face.The man’s pistol fired and Jason felt wood splinters spray his face. The bullet had just narrowly missed his head. He sprinted towards the garage, making a quick detour at his dad’s safe. He yanked the door into the garage open, just as he heard the front door slam open. He jumped in the Mitsubishi 3000 GT – his dad’s other car – and pressed the button to open the garage door. Jason looked behind him as he floored the car. He caught a glimpse of two black Mercedes parked in the driveway, before he rushed past them and pulled into the road. Jason shifted into drive and pushed on the pedal again. Tires spinning, he raced away from the house and pulled out onto the main road. Jason was nearing the city, when he spotted a freeway overpass ahead of him. The busy freeway might give him a chance to lose the two cars that were slowly gaining on him. Jason looked at the speedometer. He was going almost eighty miles-per-hour. Jason approached the on-ramp and nearly lost control, as he served and skidded onto the freeway. He pulled into the horde of cars and dared a glance behind him. The two black cars were nowhere to be seen. Jason breathed a sigh of relief. He had lost them. But the relief only lasted for a moment, because when Jason looked out to the left, there was one of the Mercedes. Not knowing what else to do, Jason whipped the steering wheel to the left, and a Russian man sitting in the passenger’s seat of the car aimed a sub-machinegun at him. Before he had the opportunity of pulling the trigger, the two cars crashed together, and the gun flew out the window. The Mercedes swerved to the side. The driver tried to come about, but spun out of control. The car skidded towards the median and crashed against the guard rail. It flipped end over end, before finally coming to rest upside-down. Jason, still in control of his car, looked in the mirror and saw – not one – but three more black cars trailing him. Two were Mercedes. The other was a Chevy Tahoe SUV. One of the Mercedes pulled up to the right and the driver aimed a pistol out the window. Jason ducked and was showered with glass. The car sped ahead, attempting to cut Jason off. As Jason sat up, he grabbed his own pistol and stuck half of his body out the driver’s window. Before he had a chance to fire, though, a car cut him off and he slammed his brakes. Behind him, another black Mercedes couldn’t stop in time. It crashed into the back of Jason’s Mitsubishi and its front end was completely totaled.Jason floored the gas pedal and raced around the car that had cut him off. Up ahead, he saw the Mercedes that had passed him just moments earlier. Jason tried again. He stuck his body out the window and aimed his pistol. The air raced past his head at eighty miles per hour. Jason aimed at the car ahead and fired several times. The cluster of bullets lashed at the vehicle’s tires, completely shredding them. The car spun out and Jason raced past the demobilized enemies. Then, behind Jason, the final car approached. It was the SUV, and it had a machinegun turret, manned by a Russian standing through the sunroof. The SUV passed Jason and the machine-gunner opened fire. Jason swore and ducked below the dashboard. Glass covered him as he slammed on the brakes. He swerved behind a semi truck before he noticed it was carrying a tank filled with petroleum. The machine-gunner used this to his advantage. He fired on the semi.Suddenly, Jason was blinded by fire and he felt heat wash over him. For an instant, he was weightless. His body was thrown from the seat and was hurled out the window. He felt wind rush past his face, and then he hit the hood of an oncoming car. Then, he fell facedown onto the freeway. Everything that followed happened in slow-motion and was just a blur. Jason heard sirens, doors slamming and the slight squeal of breaks.Then, there were gunshots.A firefight broke out between the Russians and the local police. Jason staggered blindly to his feet and limped to the side of the burning freeway and past the barrage of bullets. From the sound of it, Jason knew that the Russians got the better of the fight. Then, he collapsed onto the grassy median. Two men stood over Jason’s pathetic body. Most of his clothes had burned off and blood was seeping from his back and face. Two men standing over his almost-lifeless form talked for a moment then grabbed Jason by the arms. They dragged him so that his back scraped across the hot pavement. Jason was blindfolded and gagged and was thrown into the back of the SUV. A needle punctured his arm.

Sleep found him quickly.

>>It was nearly a full day later. Jason sat in a wooden chair inside a small, concrete room. A tall Russian man was beating a wooden baseball bat against his hand.“I already told you!” Jason whimpered. “I don’t know where the data chip is!”The man raised the baseball bat.“Please, no!” Jason braced for impact. The bat connected with Jason’s left arm and pain surged through his body.“Now tell me! Where is that chip?”

Tears filled Jason’s eyes as he revealed the information.

“All I know is that it’s in an old building in the northern district of Los Angeles.” The man quit beating him. Another man stood outside Jason’s cell. He was definitely of some authority, for with one nod, the tall man who had just beaten Jason, obediently left the cell.The other man entered Jason’s cell.“Hello, Mr. Murdock,” the man said with a thick Russian accent.Jason didn’t answer back. He sat on the floor, still clutching his arm.The Russian raised his voice. “Answer me when I am speaking to you! I said, ‘hello!’” “Hello,” Jason said against his will. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” The Russian man motioned to a window sitting high in the cell. It was just large enough to see the sun shining through the bars. He looked back down at Jason.“My name is Dmitri Yakunin. I am in charge of this operation, and if you don’t tell me where that data chip is, there will be some major consequences.”Jason stared at him. So this was the guy that Sergeant Johnson had mentioned. He wondered if Johnson had e-mailed him Yakunin’s file yet. It wouldn’t do much good now, though. “I don’t know,” Jason answered.“You want to make this hard, huh?” Yakunin said. “So be it.” >>It was nighttime. Jason woke to the sound of two guards talking outside his cell. He could see their shadows blotting out the moonlight that was shining in his little window. Jason knew he wasn’t in Los Angeles anymore because it was much warmer here. He was unconscious for the entire drive so he had no clue of the place or even direction they had taken him. All he knew was that he had to escape.Jason looked around the cell. He knew he was underground because right outside his window he heard gravel crunching and a few pebbles fell through the window and landed in his lap. Jason stood up and yawned. There was a guard standing just outside his cell, who was heavily armed with a rifle and a grenade in his belt. Just then, Jason had an idea. He motioned for the guard to come closer like he needed something.“What do you want?” the guard asked.Jason said nothing, but when the guard was no more that a few inches from the cell bars, he reached his hand behind the guard’s head, and in a flash, Jason pulled the man’s head against the bars. There was a clang, and the guard slumped to the floor. After checking to make sure no one had heard him, he collected the guard’s rifle and grenade.Jason made sure there was no one standing outside, and he pulled the pin from the grenade. He knew that if he didn’t throw it perfectly, he would be blown to smithereens. He tossed the grenade towards the barred window and hoped that it wouldn’t bounce off the bars. It didn’t. Just as he planned, the grenade went between the bars and came to rest just outside the window. Jason pressed his back against the wall that the window was on, and the grenade exploded. Dust and debris rained on him, and an alarm suddenly sounded.Jason knew he didn’t have much time, and he looked up at the window. The bars were completely gone and a two-foot section of the wall was missing. Jason pulled the trigger of his rifle in a short burst and a chunk chipped off the wall, about two feet from the floor. He repeated this every couple feet up the wall until he was satisfied with the chunks of the wall that were missing

Jason slung the rifle over his shoulder and, using the broken off sections as hand- and footholds, he scaled the wall. As he neared the window above him, several guards burst into the room, aimed, and he felt the wall give out from under his feet. He climbed through the hole and jumped to his feet. He was standing in front of, what looked like, a military complex of some sort.

Then, Jason ran.

He was just able to sprint across a small gravel parking lot before the guards outside spotted him. They opened fire. Bullets filled the air around Jason and he glanced back towards the complex. Resting on one of the guards’ shoulders was a Rocket-Propelled Grenade (RPG) launcher.

For a split second, Jason was frozen with fear. He saw a rocket streaking towards him and he hit the deck. There was a piercing whistle and the ground exploded about three feet behind him. Dirt covered his body.

Jason stood up and ran faster than he had ever run before. He heard another whistle behind him, just as he had reached the edge of a forest, and a tree exploded right next to him. The tree lit up in flames and light flooded the forest in a crazy dance.

Jason entered the forest, and only seconds later, there was another whistle. The ground disappeared from under him and he was thrust into the air. He toppled head-over-heels and finally came to rest at the base of a tree.

After a moment, Jason stood up and shook his head to clear the fuzziness that was forming. He had done it! He had escaped! But then, he felt a hand wrap around his face. Covering his mouth, a man pulled him behind a large tree stump.

“Sshh,” the man said and released Jason. He spun around and saw the smiling face of Sergeant Johnson.

“How did you find me?” Jason asked.

“We arrived at the crash scene just after the police did,” Johnson explained. “When I saw you lying on the side of the freeway, you looked horrible. But I see they cleaned you up pretty good.” Johnson looked at Jason’s face, which was covered with cuts and bruises. “Then, when the Russians ran off with you, we followed them until they ended up here.”

“Um,” Jason said. “Where, exactly, is ‘here?’”

“What happened to you?” Johnson laughed. “You’re in Las Vegas!”

Jason looked around. “It doesn’t exactly look like Vegas,” he observed.

“Well,” Johnson explained, “technically you’re not in Vegas. You’re on the outskirts. This is marked as an irrigated wildlife center, but I can see it’s much more than that.”

Jason glanced back towards the complex.

Johnson continued. “We planned a rescue attempt for you – and I was coming to survey the complex – when all of a sudden, you burst out of the ground!” Johnson laughed. “I guess you did pretty well on your own!”

Jason heard shouts behind him and the sounds of thrashing in the forest. “If we want to get out of here alive,” he said, “we’d better leave now.”

5The Downfall

>>The lights of Las Vegas were amazing with their various colors, but there was no time to stare, as Sergeant Johnson, Sergeant Andrews, and Jason tore off the freeway in their Saturn VUE.

“The sedan is still behind us,” Andrews said looking behind.

Both Jason and Johnson looked out the rear window. The black luxury car that had been following them for the past ten minutes was still on their tail.

“Let’s pull in here and wait a while,” Johnson said. Andrews turned the steering wheel and pulled into a parking garage. He shut off the car.

“So how you been holding up, kid?” Andrews asked Jason, once Johnson had shut off the car.

“Okay, I guess. But there always seems to be someone trying to kill me – like right now.”

“Yeah,” Andrews said, “I know what you mean. I don’t know how the Russians are getting into the country, but all of us Marines that are split into small groups like this always have to be on the lookout for ambushes.

“Jason, you’re a strong and strategic thinker. How you escaped from the men on Wave-Runners, defeated most of the Russians on the freeway, and escaped from that complex earlier, I don’t know. But right now, our goal is to protect you, and we will stop at nothing to accomplish that goal.”

Jason nodded and noticed that the black sedan that had been following them had just pulled into the parking garage. It parked about a hundred feet to the left of their car and four men got out. They walked towards the car that Jason was in, and he saw them all pulled submachine guns from shoulder straps. They aimed and fired.

“Why don’t they just give us a break?!” Andrews yelled.

“Get out now!” Johnson yelled, as he threw himself out of the car and rolled on the ground. Jason climbed out as well and ducked beside the car. But Sergeant Andrews wasn’t so lucky. Bullets riddled his side of the vehicle and before he could do anything, they peppered his body and he dropped out of the car through the open door and collapsed into a heap on the ground.

“No!” Jason yelled. He tried to help Andrews, but Johnson stopped him.

“Jason!” Johnson yelled over the noise. “You’re going to get yourself killed! There’s nothing you can do!”

Jason struggled against Johnson’s grip. “Let me go!” he screamed.

“No!” Johnson yelled back. Jason stopped struggling. “There’s nothing we can do for Andrews now.”

Jason’s struggling slowed. He turned around and looked at Johnson with teary eyes.

“I know how you feel,” Johnson said.

Jason wiped the tears from his eyes and snapped back to reality.

“All I have is a pistol,” Johnson said. “You give me cover fire and I’ll get the rifles out of the back.”

“Alright,” Jason said and Johnson handed over the pistol, butt-first. Jason nodded to him and jumped out from cover. Resting his palm on the hood of the car, Jason fired several times. One of the Russians spun and fell, a bullet going clean through his shoulder. Another caught a bullet in his leg and he limped behind the black car. Two others took cover behind the car also, but the one with the shoulder wound was a little too slow, and two more bullets from Jason’s pistol tore into his back. He fell and lay still.

“I’m dry!” Jason yelled and Johnson tossed him a clip. He inserted it and cocked the gun.

“Go!” he yelled and Johnson sprinted to the back of the car.

Jason fired at the Russians’ car, shattering the windows and piercing the doors. The Russians remained hidden, momentarily afraid of Jason.

Johnson opened the trunk and pulled out two XM-8 rifles. He tossed one to Jason along with a few extra clips. Jason slid a clip into his rifle and pulled the lever. There was a satisfying click.

Just then a black SUV pulled into the parking garage. It parked behind the first car and several men got out; Jason couldn’t count them all.

“Suppressing fire!” Johnson yelled, and both he and Jason fired their rifles in short, controlled, bursts at the new threat. The men cowered behind their cars and fired back. Jason went back behind cover to reload, when he heard the sound.

That familiar sound. The same whistle he had heard back at the complex pierced through the night at that very moment. An RPG turned their car into a ball of fire, and Jason was lifted into the air, momentarily, before he connected with the asphalt again and slid for a few feet.

Then, he felt the pain. Everywhere.

He saw Johnson laying facedown to his left.

His vision went blurry.

A cement pillar was in front of him. He crawled over and leaned up against it. Back at the wreckage, all he could see was fire. Then he saw the silhouette of a man walking towards him. Jason coughed and blood spattered on the asphalt. Just like before, the Russians had defeated him. But this time they had killed his two greatest allies as well, and it looked as if they weren’t going to take him alive a second time.

He heard police sirens, but they sounded too distant from him.

The silhouette advanced closer, pistol in hand. The man’s arm raised, and Jason saw an XM-8 rifle lying on the ground next to him. He reached for it –

Bang! A bullet tugged at his gut. His hand touched the rifle.

Bang! A second bullet punched into his chest. His hand dropped to the ground.

The world around him faded.

Blackness.

Washington D.C., 0600 hours:

>>“Mr. President! Tell us about the fax from Russia!”

“What are your plans for confronting the attack on Los Angeles?”

“Mr. President!”

“I am not at liberty to reveal any information at this time.” This was how Mason Sullivan’s whole day had been. He was always surrounded by news reporters who were begging for a story.

Despite the yelling, cameras, and microphones shoved in his face, no words slipped past his lips as he strode down the hallway to his personal secretary’s office. Without even bothering to knock, he burst into Janet’s office and shut the door.

“You called?”

“Yes,” Janet said. “Sit down, please.” She motioned to a chair in front of her desk. “You need to talk privately with someone, and the telephone in your office is monitored, so I called you down here to talk on a secure line.”

“Who’s on the line?” Sullivan asked.

“Joe Simmons of the FBI. He says it’s urgent.”

“Alright, let me speak to him.”

Janet handed him the phone.

“Alone,” Sullivan added.

She nodded and left the office. Mason held the phone to his ear.

“Hello?” he said.

“Mason! This is Joe Simmons! Something went wrong!”

>>It sounded beautiful. The soft voice whispered to him like an angel.

“Jason…”

The room came into focus. It was a very familiar room to Jason; he was lying on a hospital bed, machines beeped all around him, and a nurse stood over him. He tried to sit up but yelped as a sharp pain jolted through his upper body.

He lay back down and the nurse gave him a shot.

“Here,” she said. “This will ease the pain.”

“What happened?” Jason said weakly.

“You’ve been shot,” the nurse said. “We found you unconscious in the parking garage. You suffered major blood loss, and third degree burns on twenty percent of your body. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“Yeah, tell that to Johnson.” Jason said angrily.

The nurse was about to say something, but before Jason could hear what she was saying, his eyes closed and he went into unconsciousness.

>>“Calm down, Joe!” Mason Sullivan spoke to his longtime friend.

“I’m the only one left!” Simmons panted. “They’re all dead! Every last one of –”

“Talk slower. Tell me exactly what happened, from the very beginning.”

“Alright.” Joe Simmons took a deep breath. “We did just as you asked. We stormed the Russian stronghold in Las Vegas. Everything was going according to plan. We advanced at the base keeping a low profile, when everything went horribly wrong. My team was literally cut down. I was the only one who made it out alive.”

This reply was unexpected by the president.

“It’s okay,” Sullivan said after a moment’s hesitation. “You’re alive, that’s all that matters. Come by my office tomorrow, so we can start sorting this mess out.”

Mason Sullivan hung up, just as Janet burst into the room, a scared look in her eyes.

“Janet! What’s wrong?”

“S-sir,” She stuttered. “I just received a call from one of our spies in Russia. The Russians, sir, they’re planning more attacks. And, sir, they have nukes.” Part 2 A New StartFebruary 20, 2011 6Three weeks later…

>>Jason’s life was returning slowly. After bitterly refusing to help the government further, he continued on with his life as though nothing had happened. The most difficult part was regaining his mother’s happiness.

Jason could not explain why he rejected the government so surely. Maybe it was because he couldn’t stand the constant danger or all the killing, or most likely, he thought, it was because he couldn’t bear seeing his mom in this much pain. Losing a husband was bad enough. She didn’t need to lose her son, too.

Los Angeles would never be the same again. The piles of rubble were slowly disappearing and the birth of new buildings, both big and small, were clearly visible across the tattered city. The electricity was working in Jason’s neighborhood, but in the big city, nothing was working. No one was happy. No stores were open. All that remained were piles of rubble.

Jason was watching T.V., almost asleep from the antibiotics he was on. He felt his chest. There was a slight depression where the bullet had entered. The feeling brought back memories. Burrows and Andrews and… He couldn’t think about Johnson. It was too hard for him. Every day after the parking garage incident, Jason thought about Johnson. He wanted to believe that Johnson had somehow made it; that he had survived the explosion. But deep down in his heart, he knew Johnson was dead.

Just as a tear formed in his eye, the phone rang.

>>Dmitri Yakunin watched from the catwalk as fifty workers packed and loaded several cone-shaped items into the back of a semi truck. His feet clanged on the metal grating as he walked down the stairs and onto the warehouse floor. The rifle over his shoulder displayed authority, and no one dared to question him. Between ten and fifteen men stood guard around the workers.

“They are ready, sir.” A tall American man stood in front of him.

“Good,” Yakunin said approvingly. “You may leave. Inform me when they are in place.”

The American saluted and Yakunin returned it. He turned from Yakunin and climbed into the semi truck. The truck rumbled to life and the smell of diesel filled the warehouse.

“Alright, men!” Yakunin said. All eyes turned to him. “You have done a remensdous job this evening! It is a pity you won’t live to tell your wives about it.”

Yakunin nodded to the guards and gunfire erupted in the warehouse. Bullets slashed through empty crates, and screaming workers fell to the ground.

The gunfire stopped.

When the smoke cleared, Yakunin saw bullet-riddled bodies lying on the floor, and from behind a crate in the corner, he heard a slight gasp. His head jerked to the corner and he leveled his rifle. He crept forward. The guards began to follow him, but he motioned for them to stay.

Behind the crate was a man; an American man dressed in all black.

“What is this?” Yakunin smiled. “A spy? Well, boys, it seems like we’re going to have some fun this evening.”

Yakunin reached out and grabbed the quivering American by the shirt.

“Stand up!” he ordered and the man obeyed. Yakunin pulled the man behind him and led him into a small room.

“Pathetic,” he said, throwing the American into a wooden chair. The man sobbed.

“Please! Please, don’t kill me!” he said.

Yakunin knelt next to the American.

“What have you told your friends in the States?” Yakunin demanded. “Have you contacted them?”

The man sobbed. Yakunin slapped him across the face.

“Have you contacted them?!”

“Yes.”

Yakunin closed his eyes. “What did you tell them?” he said calmly.

“If I tell you, do you promise to let me go?” the American tried.

Yakunin hesitated for a moment. “Yes. If you tell me everything, I will let you go.”

The man sighed. “Okay, I told them that you were planning to attack Washington D.C. Then I told them about the nuclear warheads.” He panted. “That’s all, I swear.”

“Okay,” Yakunin said. “That’s all I needed to know.”

He stood up and brushed off his pants. “Oobay eevo,” he said to one of the guards as he walked out of the room.

The multilingual American spy shrieked, and Yakunin left the room.

“No! Please, you can’t do this to me! Stop, ple –”

Two gunshots echoed behind Yakunin. He flipped open his cell phone and hit the speed dial. The man on the other line answered immediately.

“Yes,” Yakunin said. “We have a problem.”

>>Joe Simmons knocked on the president’s door.

“Come in,” Joe could hear Mason say.

He opened the door and stepped inside the oval office.

“Good morning,” Mason Sullivan said.

“Yes,” Joe said. “Good morning.”

“Why are you here?” Sullivan asked. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no. It’s just –” Joe paused. “Maybe it would be better if we talked somewhere in private.”

“What do you mean?”

“I need to talk to you about something in private. There is surveillance in this room and what I need to tell you can’t get on tape.”

“I can call the Secret Service and tell them to disable the security –”

“That’s not good enough,” Joe spoke loudly.

“Joe, if there’s something wrong, you can tell me.”

“Alright,” Joe said, “but on the roof.”

“What?” Mason Sullivan was confused.

Joe Simmons drew out a silenced pistol from his coat, hiding it from the single security camera in the office.

“I said, ‘on the roof.’ Now!”

Mason Sullivan’s mouth gaped open.

“Joe,” he said. “You don’t know what you’re –”

“Oh yes,” Joe said with a sinister smile. “I do. Now move!”

Mason obediently walked to the door and opened it. Joe Simmons holstered his pistol and followed the president out the door.

“The elevator at the end of the hall,” Joe said. “Now. If you do anything stupid, there will be a bullet in your spine, and you will die before you hit the ground.”

Mason Sullivan continued toward the two elevators at the end of the hall.

“Why are you doing this?” Mason asked. “Are you working with them?”

“Shut up!” Simmons said. “And keep walking.”

They arrived at the elevators. Joe pushed the “up” button and waited for a few moments for the doors to open. The two men stepped into the elevator.

Joe glanced at his watch. They still had two minutes. The chopper would soon arrive and the president would be kidnapped. Joe felt sorry for his friend Mason, but it was a necessary sacrifice that would benefit both Russia and America.

Joe felt a sense of vertigo as the elevator accelerated upward. After about a half a minute, the elevator stopped and the doors opened. They were on the security level of the White House. Two technicians huddled over a bank of monitors, attempting to figure out what had gone wrong with the roof security cameras.

Joe drew out his pistol and two muffled shots echoed through the room. The technicians dropped to the floor. At that same moment, there was another shot. The security guard standing watch in the corner had missed Joe’s head by mere inches. Joe moved behind the president, using him as a shield.

“Put your gun down!” he ordered.

The security guard hesitated and Joe put two bullets in his chest. The security guard staggered backwards, fell against the wall, and collapsed to the floor. The president had a tear in his eye, but he remained silent.

“Let’s go,” Joe said, and he pushed Mason past the banks of monitors and through a metal door.

On the other side was a long hallway with several doors with security panels. At the very end, there was one door with a red exit sign above it. They continued on and arrived at the emergency exit. Joe opened the door and an alarm sounded.

Behind him, doors burst open. He glanced at his watch again; he had thirty seconds. Through the emergency door he could hear the distinct chopping sound of a helicopter. Almost done, he thought to himself.

Still using the president as a shield, he turned around to face the men behind him. The panicked look on their faces told him that they would not shoot, for fear of hitting the president.

“Back away!” Joe yelled. “Stay away!”

The men didn’t shoot, but they advanced closer with each step Joe took backward. That was fine. The helicopter was here and his job was finished. Joe and Mason climbed a long flight of metal stairs and reached another door. Daylight streamed in as Joe opened the door and there were three guards waiting for him.

One of the guards attempted to tackle Joe, but he countered the attack, throwing the man down the stairs. The president tried to escape, but Joe grabbed him by the arm.

The helicopter was landing right on top of the White House. Mason broke free from Joe’s grasp, but didn’t know where to run. A Russian from the helicopter tackled him and tied his wrists. He was brought onto the helicopter.

Joe slammed the roof access door and aimed his pistol. There were two guards left and he didn’t know what else to do. Before he could shoot, though, machinegun fire erupted from the helicopter and the two guards were cut down by fifty caliber bullets.

“Get in!” someone yelled from the helicopter.

Joe climbed on board and the helicopter took off.

>>Jason listened to the phone ring twice before he finally answered it.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other line was not any that Jason had heard speak before. It was calm and in charge.

“I’d like you to help me, Jason.”

“Who is this?” Jason demanded.

“Joe Simmons of the FBI. You can call me Joe.”

“I’m not interested in working for you people anymore.” Jason stated.

“‘You people?’ Who, exactly, are you talking about?”

“The government. All of you.”

“I understand completely,” Joe said. “But you have done many amazing things – things that no one your age could possibly do.”

“So what?”

“So, I would like you to help me stop the Russians from killing the president.”

“Mason Sullivan? What happened to him?”

“Turn to Channel 5 on your TV and find out.”

Jason did that and his jaw dropped.

“Oh my goodness. They kidnapped the president.”

“Jason, I need the plans to the EMP missile. I need that data chip.”

“Alright,” Jason said. “I will help you. I know where to find it.”

>>Joe Simmons was not the kind of man Jason expected. He sounded so calm on the telephone, but face to face, Simmons looked cold; ruthless. From the moment Jason laid eyes on the man, he didn’t trust him at all.

When Jason had spoken to Sergeant Johnson on the phone just a few weeks ago, before he had been involved in the car chase, Johnson had given him an address for where he could find the data chip. It was an abandoned government HQ, Johnson had told him.

“So where is this place?” Joe Simmons asked.

“It’s in the north part of Los Angeles in one of the few districts that survived the bombing.” Jason replied.

“North it is, then.”

Joe Simmons pulled the car out of the driveway.

Jason pulled out his laptop computer and turned it on. He opened up his e-mail and clicked on “saved mail.” He then clicked on the first entry like he had done many times in the past three weeks.

<PERSONALIZED =

//Jason – This is Dmitri Yakunin’s file. – Johnson// >

UNTITLED MESSAGE =

AGE = 42

RACE = RUSSIAN

GENDER = MALE

CLASSIFIED AS = WANTED

//BIOGRAPHY =

Dmitri Yakunin is currently the leader of the Russian Mafia. Yakunin is currently on America’s Most Wanted list for mass murder, weapons dealing, and multiple other crimes. His recent contacts include: Boris Yeltsin, former Russian president, and Aleksandr Yeltsin, second-in-command of the Russian military.//

Jason stared at the file, trying to find any piece of evidence that would tell him what was going on.

He knew that Dmitri Yakunin was in charge of this whole operation, because he met the guy in person. Yakunin was the leader of the Russian Mafia, and was in close contact with the former president and the president’s brother.

But why?

Then, it came to him. Yakunin was obviously getting his troops and weapons from the president’s brother, who was second-in-command of the Russian military. It made perfect sense. An unlimited supply of manpower and weaponry came with the relationship Yakunin had with them.

It was not the country Russia that was attacking them; it was the Russian Mafia! Maybe Russia would help take down this threat with the U.S. That would be a smart choice, because they wouldn’t want to be held responsible for the Mafia’s actions.

Jason knew he had to speak with someone – anyone that could have an influence on the commander of the Russian military. He would have talked to the president, if not for him being kidnapped.

“Joe,” Jason said.

“What is it?”

“I know how to win this war.”

>>Joe Simmons and Jason finally arrived at their destination – an old brick building with broken windows and covered in gang graffiti.

“This is the place?” Simmons asked Jason.

“This is where Johnson told me the data chip would be.” Jason shrugged.

“Well, let’s go inside and take a look around.”

Joe Simmons and Jason walked towards the broken-down building. They looked for a door, but didn’t need to, because the main door had been busted down. Jason climbed over a pile of broken bricks and into the old building. Simmons followed shortly behind, drawing out a pistol from a shoulder strap.

“You go first,” he said. “I’ll cover you.”

Jason nodded and walked deeper into the building. After searching for several minutes, Jason turned around to face Simmons.

“I don’t think we’re going to find any… wait.” Jason heard a slight noise coming from above him. It almost sounded like a voice. “I hear something,” he said. “C’mon.”

Led only by his ears, Jason climbed up the stairs to the second story. The voice grew louder. It sounded like it was coming from the room at the end of the hallway. Jason continued forward, nearing the door. He pressed his ear against it and listened. A man was talking on a cell phone. The voice somehow sounded familiar to him.

“…no longer. I have it with me right now. Yes, the data chip. I will give it to him when he shows up. No, no. I can assure you there will be no problems…” Jason nodded to Simmons, who nodded back. Jason backed away from the door, and Joe kicked it in with his foot.

“Put the phone down!” Joe yelled. “And give me the chip!”

Jason looked in the doorway and froze. Joe saw the expression on his face.

“What is it, Jason? Do you know this guy?”

“Yeah,” Jason said. “He’s my father.”

>>Jason just stood there motionless. He stared into the blue eyes of Lyle Murdock – his father – for what seemed like hours.

“Jason,” his father said. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“But I thought…”

“No, Jason. I wasn’t killed in LA.”

“But… but, how?”

Without warning, Jason’s father tried to run. He pushed past Joe Simmons and ran through the door. But Joe was too quick. He fired his pistol at Lyle’s leg and Jason’s father fell to the floor.

“Give me the data chip!” Simmons demanded.

“Alright, alright! But please let me go,” Lyle said, clutching his leg.

“I will,” Joe said.

Lyle tossed his cell phone to Simmons and withdrew a small metal case from his coat pocket. He slit the item across the floor and Simmons picked it up. Joe opened the box and retrieved a tiny data chip.

“Thank you. You are free to go.”

Lyle stood up – with some effort – and limped away quickly. He took one last look back at Jason.

“I’ll see you around son,” he said with a smile.

Jason wasn’t able to answer him. He just stood and watched his father leave. Then he choked up, collapsed against the wall, and cried.

Part 3 Total WarMarch 2, 2011 7The Start of the War

>>Admiral Washburn was chewing on an old pipe like he always did when he was thinking. He never smoked it; it was a gift from his grandfather. That was the only reason he still had it.

This was of the hardest choices he had made since his enlistment in the Navy. Washburn had to decide whether or not he wanted to deploy his troops alongside the Marines in Russia.

“Sign this and I will begin mobilizing your troops in Russia.” A tall man stood in the Admiral’s office, patiently waiting for the order. “Under normal circumstances, we Marines don’t come to the Navy asking for more men, but both of us can agree these are not ‘normal’ circumstances.”

“Yes, General,” Washburn spoke for the first time. “Not normal, indeed.”

“I won’t lie to you, Admiral,” General Staten said. “If you sign this, you will be part of a full-scale war with Russia.”

“Yes, I know.” Washburn knew exactly what would happen if he signed the paper. “I will only sign if you believe this to be the only option.”

Staten thought for a long moment.

“Yes, Admiral. After our last attempt failed miserably, the only other option is this.”

“Can you elaborate on this ‘last attempt’ for me?” Washburn said.

General Staten began a story that would dramatically change the Admiral’s views on the war.

“About a year ago the Marines developed an EMP intercontinental missile and a guidance system to go along with it. We stored it in LA, but it, along with its plans, was destroyed in the bombing.

“But there was one person who kept a copy of the plans, but we didn’t know where he kept them. It was not very convenient how he was in Los Angeles when it was bombed. He was killed in the bombing.”

“Who is this person you are speaking of?” Washburn asked.

“Lyle Murdock, a major business owner in LA. We located his family, and I instructed a group of Marines, led by Master Gunnery Sergeant Rick Johnson, to take his son, Jason, into protective custody until further notice. We did this because Murdock held his strongest relationship with his son – even stronger than his wife.

“This group of Marines took Jason, as I instructed, but was ambushed somewhere outside of LA. The team and Jason were taken as prisoners to Northern Russia, where they somehow escaped. They contacted us and told us that they had lost seven of their best men and that Jason was injured badly. They were rescued and flown back to LA by helicopter.

“That’s when we received information that Lyle Murdock was keeping the plans for the EMP missile in his gun safe. Knowing this, we sent Jason to retrieve the chip and take it to one of our undercover workers named Steve Spinelli. Jason did so, and at a first glance Spinelli thought it was a decoy. It wasn’t until later that he realized that, hidden on the data chip, was an address nearly impossible to decode.

“But then something unexpected happened. Just after Spinelli gave us the address, we lost all contact with him. It was like he completely dropped off the face of the earth. So I sent Johnson’s team to retrieve the chip and to instruct Jason to meet them there. Incase they were being followed, I didn’t want Jason’s residence to be discovered.

“But somehow Jason’s location was discovered by the Russians anyways. Jason was captured, and Johnson’s team ended up having to follow the Russians and rescue Jason, so they weren’t able to retrieve the chip.”

Admiral Washburn set the pipe on his desk and looked up at General Staten.

“So then what did you do?” he said.

“Then,” Staten said, “The remainder of Johnson’s team, other than himself and Staff Sergeant Andrews, were killed. We found their bodies on the freeway in Los Angeles. There were none alive.

“Johnson followed the Russians and Jason to Las Vegas and somehow rescued him; I don’t know the details. Johnson and Andrews were both killed less than an hour later. Jason almost didn’t make it, but the police showed up just in time and eliminated the hostiles before they could kill him. After that, he refused to make any contact with us.

“Today, I assembled another team of Marines to retrieve the data chip, but when they arrived at the address, there was nothing; absolutely nothing there. So either Spinelli was giving us a load of crap, or someone already has the chip. Either way, we have no other option. We have to go to war with Russia.”

Admiral Washburn eyed Staten for a long time. Then he picked up a pen and removed its cap.

“So be it,” he said and signed the paper.

>>Jason kept his eyes closed as he gradually woke up. He had drifted off to sleep on a straight stretch of the freeway and now he listened vaguely to Joe Simmons talking on his cell phone in the driver’s seat.

“Yes,” he said. “I have the chip. I will copy the data onto my computer and send the files to you.”

Jason was now fully awake but he kept his eyes closed, now listening intently to the conversation. Joe Simmons drove the car down an off-ramp and pulled off to the side of the road. Jason heard him turn on a laptop and insert the data chip.

“Alright,” Joe said. “I’m uploading them now… done. You should have them on your screen in just a few moments.”

Joe shut his laptop and put it away.

“You have it? Good.” There was a pause. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you, Dmitri.”

Jason opened his eyes just as Joe Simmons ended the call. Joe was working with Dmitri Yakunin! How could he have fooled Jason?

“Oh, hello,” Joe said to Jason, noticing he was awake. “Did you have a good sleep?” But then the expression on Joe’s face changed from cheerful to serious.

“What’s wrong,” he said.

Jason stared at Joe momentarily then said, “What are you doing? You’re working with the terrorists?”

Joe’s expression changed again. This time it was hostile. He pulled out a gun from his shoulder strap and pointed it at Jason. He began to drive again.

“I wasn’t planning on killing you. I prefer to leave children out of my work, but because you know so much, I can’t let you free. But before I kill you, I have to destroy this.”

He pulled the data chip from his pocket and smashed it against the steering wheel. Fragments of plastic fell onto the floor from Joe Simmons’ hand.

“No!” Jason yelled.

Jason grabbed the steering wheel of the car and jerked it down. The car veered off to the right and down an alley. Suddenly, the car crashed into a dumpster and Joe’s head hit the steering wheel. While Joe was momentarily dazed, Jason climbed out of the car and began to run.

He sprinted down the alley and vaulted over a chain link fence. He looked back at the car and saw Joe slowly climbing out.

“Stop!” Joe yelled, blood streaming down his face.

Jason was now out of the alley. Cars rushed past in front of him. He decided to turn left down the sidewalk. Running down the road, he received a few weird looks from other pedestrians. That is, until Joe burst out from the alley, gun in hand. Then the people screamed and ran.

Jason knew that if he kept running straight, Joe would shoot him. Joe stopped and aimed his gun. A bullet whizzed past Jason’s left ear as he ran into the street on his right. Tired squealed and horns blared as he entered the busy road. He slid over the hood of a sports car and made it to the other sidewalk unscathed.

As he ran, Jason looked back at Joe. He had hijacked a car and was quickly catching up to Jason. Jason heard yelling and screaming from behind him as Joe pushed his way through the horde of cars. After a moment, he caught up to Jason and was now right next to him.

“Jason!” he yelled through the window. “Either you can go down easy or we can do this the hard way! It’s your call!”

Yes, it was, Jason thought to himself as he veered right into a grocery store that was almost sitting on the water of the Pacific Ocean. There was a boardwalk on the other side where many people came to sell produce in little stands. The automatic door closed behind him and he ran to the back of the store, through a flapping door, and into the storage area. Once Jason reached the safety of a stack of crates, he stopped to catch his breath. In the storage area, there were hundreds of crates, steel beams high above him, and a forklift sitting next to the door. The only way out was the flapping door.

Just then, Joe burst in. Jason peered through the crates and saw him standing there, ready to kill. Joe holstered his pistol and climbed into the forklift. It rumbled to life and Jason watched him drive it in front of the flapping door, blocking the only exit. Joe climbed from the forklift and brushed off his coat.

“Jason!” he yelled. “You can’t hide here forever! It’s a small room and I have a long time to look for you!”

Jason stayed put. He held his breath, waiting for what Joe would do next.

“Alright!” Joe yelled. “If you want to do it the hard way, that’s okay with me.”

He withdrew a small item from his coat pocket. Jason wasn’t close enough to see what it was.

“I’ve rigged this place with enough explosives to level it to the ground. If you come out now, I won’t have to. But if you continue to hide, I will detonate the explosives. You have until the count of three.”

Jason knew that he had to show himself.

“One!” Joe said. “Two!”

Jason stood up from behind the crates and Joe smiled at him.

“Hello, Jason. Happy to see me?”

Jason was silent. He watched as Joe held up a simple device with a red button for him to see.

“If I push this button, both you and I will be killed by the explosion. So don’t do anything stupid.”

“I won’t,” Jason said.

“Good.” Joe’s smile vanished. “Now, I need to finish what I started.”

Joe quickly aimed his pistol at Jason’s head.

“Get on your knees and turn around,” Joe ordered. Sweat began to drip off his face. Jason stood still. “Get on your knee—”

While Joe was momentarily distracted by his own yelling, Jason let his foot loose at the man’s gun. The shot was perfect, and the gun flew from his left hand and slid across the floor. Jason spun. The heel of his other foot hit Joe’s right hand, and the bomb detonator clattered to the floor next to the gun.

Jason struck Joe in the groin with his knee and, stunned by his defeat, the man collapsed.

Outside of the storage room, Jason could hear people screaming and panicking.

“There’s a bomb in the store! Get out!” he yelled through the bars on the forklift.

Outside he heard more people screaming. “Bomb!” they yelled. “There’s a bomb!”

Jason was sure that the bomb wouldn’t go off, but he wanted everyone out just in case.

Suddenly, he felt an arm wrap around him from behind. As Joe attempted to kill Jason, he countered the attack, and Joe slammed into the forklift. This time Joe was clutching a knife.

He began to chuckle.

“You got nowhere to run. It’s just you, me, and this knife.”

Joe lashed out with the knife and Jason jumped backwards just in time. The knife grazed his chest and blood stained the tear in his shirt. But the wound wasn’t deep and it didn’t hurt much. Joe swung the knife again, but Jason was already running to the corner of the room where the pistol was. Jason made it to the gun and dived for it. His hand wrapped around the grip and he aimed it at Joe, who was walking towards him. Click! The gun was dry.

Jason threw the weapon aside and remembered the bomb detonator. It was right next to him. He picked it up as Joe neared him. Not knowing what else to do, he climbed the crates until he was level with the steel rafters. Jason looked back at Joe, who didn’t realize what he was about to do, and climbed up onto the rafter. He paused there to catch his breath and realized everything would be over in less than a minute. He smiled

Goodbye, Joe, he said to himself and ran towards the window on the far side of the room. He broke through the window at full speed and was weightless for a few moments as he passed over the boardwalk and the stunned people below. Then, Jason fell. He plummeted towards the choppy water of the Pacific Ocean. Just before he hit the water, he pressed the button on the bomb detonator.

Above him, the store exploded from the inside. People scrambled for cover, screaming. Jason hit the water and immediately lost consciousness, as the cold water of the Pacific Ocean consumed him.

8Maxwell

>>Jason woke to the sound of a fire crackling. He felt the fire warming his almost-lifeless body. He heard someone next to him eating something out of a bag. The crinkling of the bag was probably what roused him from his sleep.

He opened his eyes. They stung horribly, like he had pepper spray in them, so he closed them again, but he knew it was most likely from the fire’s heat or the saltwater he had recently been in. Images from that day began to appear in his mind: the explosion, the ocean… Joe Simmons.

Jason opened his eyes again. He blinked several times and looked at his surroundings. He was lying on the ground with a blanket under him.