Excerpt taken from OneThreeThirteen
MADISON WAS LISTENING intently to every sound coming from outside the room where he and Danny were being held prisoner. Continue reading
JASPER COLLINS’ old turquoise blue 1978 Chevy long bed truck pulled up in front of the Grinnell-Angelus Agricultural and Community Improvement Center’s fence.
Madison surveyed the area keeping a keen eye out for anything out of the ordinary. Trouble was everything about the last twelve hours had been out of the ordinary. It was broad daylight, around noon, he guessed, and the only vehicle in the area was Jasper’s.
This wasn’t going to be easy, Madison thought, peering through the crisscrossed interlaced bars of the fence. The fence was a good twelve feet high and the corn was planted at least five feet from the fence and the building housing the computer guidance system was even farther, making for a dangerous run across open ground.
Gun pulled, Madison eased himself out of the passenger side door and thought to himself how remarkably quiet and deceptively peaceful the farmland around Angelus, Kansas seemed.
Holding the gun in defense formation Madison moved forward toward the fence. In the distance was the flute like sound of a lone Western Meadowlark. Some inner instinct told him something wasn’t quite right. Madison shifted his eyes to the left and then to the right. There was danger about. He could feel it. Quickly holstering his weapon he reached for the fence. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you young fella,” yelled Jasper.
“I’ll show yah.”
Jasper reached down for a rock laying by the side of the road, and when he did so, what he mistook as a hornet, stung him on his right earlobe. “Damn hornets!” he yelled and threw the rock at the fence. Bluish silver sparks shot out of the fence where the rock had hit it.
Jasper was just about to say that he knew a better way in when the sniper’s second shot hit him mid back. He slumped forward over the hood of his truck. His eyes and mouth were gaped open. He never knew what hit him.
Madison grabbed Jasper’s corpse by the arm and pulled him around to the other side of the truck hoping that the old man was still alive. Madison’s breath was coming in short shallow spurts. He checked Jasper’s pulse. There was none. Ping! A third bullet took off the truck’s antenna. Madison was instantly sorry that he’d dragged the old man into doing something so dangerous. He blamed himself for the old man’s death. He had violated the first rule of engagement. Never use civilians. He’d learned that in Afghanistan.
Now was not the time for regrets. He pulled Jasper’s lifeless body out of the way. He figured if he couldn’t climb over the fence, he’d use Jasper’s truck as a battering ram now that Jasper no needed it. Ping! The sniper’s fourth bullet took out the driver side mirror.
He searched Jasper’s pocket for the keys to the truck, being careful to keep his head down. Ping! A bullet went through both the driver and passenger side windows. He knew he had only a couple more rounds before the sniper decided to go for the obvious, the fuel tank. He flipped Jasper face down in the Kansas soil and frantically dug his hands in the old man’s back pockets. Still no keys. Jasper must have had them in his left hand when he got hit, which meant they’d have fallen near the front of the truck. He had to time this just right.
So, far the sniper was taking his time, toying with him like one of clay ducks at a carnival game. And the moment he stuck his head up, he’d be a goner.
Right now, the front passenger tire was shielding him from view. If he reached around the tire to get the keys, he’d be seen. He needed a distraction. He sat for a moment, listening to the bullets as they pinged off the body of the truck, not wanting to do the thing he knew he had to do. He had to use Jasper’s body as a shield.
He swallowed hard before pushing Jasper’s body on its side and laying himself parallel to it. Slowly he pushed forward. The first shot took a huge chunk out of Jasper’s skull spraying gray matter, bone, and blood all over Madison’s chest. Good thing, Madison thought, that he hadn’t eaten anything in the last few hours. He pushed the nearly headless body forward a few more inches. The next shot hit Jasper’s shoulder making his arm flap around as though he were hailing a cab. Madison reached his right arm underneath Jasper’s body and felt around on the ground for the keys.
The sniper got lucky. His next bullet tore through Jasper’s thin frame midway between his chest and hip hitting Madison in his left external abdominal oblique muscle. Madison’s hand gripped the keys as he pushed down the urge to yell. Huffing to ease the pain, he scrambled back behind the tire, praying the sniper wouldn’t get off another shot.
Madison took a couple of deep breaths bracing himself for the pain he knew was coming when he hurled himself into the cab of the truck. He had to do it quick; like pulling a bandage off a wound.
Summoning up his courage, Madison reached up with his right hand and opened the passenger side door. A hail of bullets rang out. He knew there’d be a momentary pause when the sniper looked up over his rifle to see if he’d hit his target. “Now!” He thought and threw himself into the truck. A pain the likes he hadn’t felt since Mogadishu tore through his left side. He had the keys in the ignition before the sniper could lower his eye back to the scope. Madison turned the key and pushed the gas pedal down with his hand. He aimed the truck straight ahead.
The old jalopy bounced along the road like a bucking bronco. When he’d gone what he figured was a safe distance Madison took his hand off the gas pedal and dared to raise his head to see where he was. He was at the rear of the facility and one look in the rearview mirror told him he wasn’t going to be alone for long. Three men dressed in camouflage carrying sniper rifles were headed towards him. He hauled his wounded carcass into the driver side seat, and slammed his foot on the gas. He put about ten feet between him and men before turning the truck around and aiming it at fence. He never hesitated. Never flinched.
Two of the snipers dove out of the way of the fast moving truck but one raised his rifle trying to get off a shoot but Madison never lifted his foot off the gas pedal. Ducking beneath the dashboard for cover, Madison felt a big bump as the truck ran over the sniper and kept going into the fence. Bluish silver, red, and black sparks arced over the top and sides of the truck, some stinging Madison’s back as the truck went through the fence.
Jasper’s old truck landed with a thud in the middle of the government’s experimental hybrid cornfield planted to disguise seven long range missile silos.
Madison rolled out of the truck grabbing his left side and hauled ass for the complex. Bullets sailed over his head. He burst through the unlocked doors of the complex and came to a sudden halt.
Standing in the darkened hallway of the Black Ops Angelus, Kansas complex with a Makarov semi-automatic pistol to his head was his son, Danny. Behind the man holding the pistol to his son’s head were about a dozen or more soldiers dressed in various uniforms from different countries. Madison recognized a few of them.
“Cornel Madison, stand down.”
Ruby Sanders (The Ruby and Jared Saga Book 1)
Jared Anderson (The Ruby and Jared saga Book 2)
Dancing With The Fat Woman
Thou Shalt East Dust
A Woman’s Voice: Book of Poems
STALKED! By Voices
MADISON BURST THROUGH the doors of the Grinell, Kansas Catholic Parish Church like the winds of Pentecost invoking an audible gasp from those persons assembled waiting out what they perceived to be their last hours.
There was no time for protocol. Madison marched straight down the center isle and up to the minister who was in the midst of his ‘End of Days’ sermon.
Right now, Madison thought, there was more to fear than some vengeful God bent on retribution. For starters, him. He was hungry, tired, and a bit pissed off at having his whole world disrupted by some power hungry fool bent on ruling the world.
“Excuse me, Father, Madison said turning and facing the shocked crowd, but I am in need of your parishioners help. I was on my way to NORRAD when my plane was shot down. I need a car.” Madison paused and looked around the room at the blank faces staring back at him. A bit flustered, he continued, “begging your pardon, but I assumed everyone knew that America had been invaded by terrorist forces.” Still there was not a sound or peep from the crowd. Madison started again. “I thought, considering the message being delivered, that the invasion was the reason why you were all gathered here.”
“Mister ain’t no place round here called NORRAD,” yelled a man seated near the back of the room to Madison’s left.
“Jasper, you old fool shut up and stop showing off your ignorance,” shouted Cassie Hankins, a life long resident of Grinnell, Kansas.
“Mister, Cassie said, standing to her feet, you’ve got to excuse old Jasper. He’s a little out of touch. And some say he’s just touched. Now about that place you’re looking for. NORRAD? I’ve heard of it. And if I ain’t mistaken, it’s in Colorado and old Jasper over there is right. This here is Kansas. And that’s quite a ways to borrow somebody’s car.”
“Yes, I know. But I don’t need a ride to NORRAD in Colorado, anymore. There’s a similar facility close by, over in Angelus.”
“Angelus? I knew it! I knew it! Shouted Jasper interrupting again. I told you folks, he said pointing his weathered index finger at the lot. I knew them boys over in Angelus were more than farmers. You don’t use equipment the likes of what they’ve got just to plant corn. And then there’s the matter of that fence. Who in their right mind would spend that kind of money to fence in a cornfield! I knew they were Government men.”
“Shut up, Jasper, yelled the assembled mass in unison. Let’s hear what the man has to say.”
“If I can get to Angelus, I can launch our missiles at their assigned targets and that should put a stop to some of this.”
“You mean you want our help starting World War 3?”
“No. I want your help to stop World War 3.”
“Won’t firing all them nuclear missiles cause a nuclear winter?, asked another member of the congregation.”
That started a conversation amongst the members that took a few minutes for Madison to quell. “Quiet! Quiet, everyone. Let me explain. They’re not that kind of missile.”
“Then what kind of missiles are they? And how many of them are ‘planted’ over there in Angelus?” Asked Cassie, nodding in Jasper’s direction.
“I’m only going to launch five missiles. No more.”
“Five?! What’s five missiles going to do? The Lady on the News said we’ve been invaded by about ten countries. All of them fighting together against us. I don’t see how five missiles is going to put an end to that.”
“These missiles can. Have you ever heard of ‘Star Wars?’
“You mean the movie? The one with the big hairy ape?”
Again there was a noticeable murmur from the crowd.
“No, I don’t mean the movie.” Madison said, a little exasperated. I mean the Strategic Defense Initiative Program started by former President Ronald Regan.”
“That crap never worked, yelled a fairly large robust man seated on the Deacon’s Bench. It was a fairy tale dreamed up by Regan during one of his Alzheimer’s attacks.”
“You’re wrong. The Air Force scientists got it to work.”
“It’s a bit too late now, don’t you think,” yelled another man whose wife was pulling at the sleeve of his shirt trying to get him to stop talking.
“No. Not for what these missiles do. They prevent nuclear war heads from exploding, rendering even the biggest nuclear bomb, ineffective.”
“So, you’re telling us, your missiles will stop their missiles so we can nuke the hell out of them!”
“Well, there in lies the problem, said Madison shifting his body weight so that he was standing firmly on both feet. Not only will these missiles make their nuclear warheads ineffective, but they’ll make all nuclear weapons ineffective. Ours too, which is probably why the President hasn’t deployed them yet.”
“No more nuclear explosions like in Chicago? I had a brother and his wife in Chicago, The Schmidts,” yelled the man whose wife had by now stopped pulling at his shirt sleeve.
“I had a sister in California,” yelled another.
“My mother was in New York.”
“Ain’t got no car, but I got a truck!” offered Jasper.
Ruby Sanders (The Ruby and Jared saga Book 1)
Jared Anderson (The Ruby and Jared saga Book 2)
Dancing With The Fat Woman
Thou Shalt Eat Dust
A Woman’s Voice: Book of Poems
STALKED! By Voices
MADISON WAS FALLING, fast. Too fast. He knew if he didn’t slow his descent, he’d end up a bloody spot on a desolate section of ground that no one would ever bother searching, especially under the present circumstances. Continue reading
Excerpt from OneThreeThirteen – A Presidential Agent Novel Series Book 1
BEFORE THE DOOR OF THE OLD B-52 bomber was locked and closed securely, the pilot was off and racing down the runway.
“Welcome aboard Colonel Sir,” yelled the young second lieutenant who’d risked a life threatening fall, dragging Madison the rest of the way into the plane. Continue reading