Cheap Thrills (6 Thrilling reads) (15 page)

Eleven

‘Any news on the National Guard?’ asks the President as he takes a sip of his coffee, deep and dark, steaming up into the Oval office air.

‘They lay about six clicks north. It shouldn’t be too long until they get to the Hill,’ says one of the advisors.

‘How about the nuke?’ asks the President

The office’s atmosphere changes immediately. A few murmurs here and there pepper the air, but the majority of the room full of officials is quiet as they contemplate their responses to such a bold move.

‘I don’t think it’s such a good idea,’ says one of the men

The president remains seated behind his desk as he continues to sip on his smouldering hot coffee.

‘I don’t really care what you think James. I want the place nuked,’ says the President

The man called James drops his head in embarrassment but still manages to look confident.

‘What about the fallout?’ asks another advisor

‘Shit happens,’ says the President

The room is in awe at the complete viciousness of the President. Everyone knows of how serious the situation is, but nuking a national instillation to get rid of some terrorists seems rather aggressive, even for the severity of the situation.

‘We nuke the base, and then we clean up with ground units,’ says the President

‘But…’ says James

‘No but’s, get it done. We need to move fast on this, or we could have missiles heading towards Washington before we know it,’ He says

The room quickly empties as a dozen men and women start making the right calls. The last man leaves the Oval office and quietly shuts the door behind him. President Harriet is left sipping the last mouthfuls of his coffee while working out a plan of action in his head.

‘Nuke em’, he says to himself as he slams the empty coffee mug down onto his desk, cracking the ceramic handle.

‘Nuke the bastards,’ he says

Twelve

Deshaun has pulled up in his SUV to the alleged safe house of the missing Mayor of New York. It’s a county residential area that looks much like a farm or a ranch. It seems out of place in the New York State area, and is miles apart from the daily grind of the city that Deshaun is used to, be it New York or Washington. The tree’s canvas the area in greens and oranges as the weather of fall time engrosses the freshness of the leaves, making them glide down to the ground in a sea of blossom and pollen, the air is saturated in all manors of flowery smells, the sound of sticks and brambles crunch under the heavy shoes of Deshaun as he exits his car. He shuts the door and takes in the sounds of the birds in the trees. He looks around and sees another car run up the driveway of the peaceful safe house. The photo reflective images of the sky shine off the dark black tinted windows of the approaching car. Deshaun watches as the car stops and Peter Foster steps out. His tall and slender but bulky build dwarfs the sunlight as it hits his back. Deshaun gives Peter an uneasy smile.

‘So this is the supposed hideout of the Mayor?’ asks Deshaun

Peter smiles as he reaches the dark and handsome Washington agent.

‘Yeah, my people say the Mayor comes down here to get away from the city when things get tough. It’s my estimation that the current state the city is in is tougher than it ever has been, hence us being down here,’ says Peter, still smiling as he crackles through the floor caked in leaves and twigs.

‘Well he better be here,’ says Deshaun

‘He will,’ says Peter

Both men stand still for a few seconds and take in the scenery.

‘It’s mighty beautiful down here, don’t you think?’ asks Peter

Deshaun tries to humour the burly security man.

‘Yeah, I suppose,’ says Deshaun, feeling a bit surprised at the sensitivity of the rough looking guard that had been appointed to him.

‘I like coming out to places like this, it helps me think,’ says Peter

‘I didn’t think you would be into such things, considering most men in your profession are into motor bikes and bars, you know,
the fast life’

Peter laughs

‘Well I’ll be dammed, I think we have a stereotypist in our midst,’ says Peter

‘Stereotype or not, I don’t think this is the time to talk about what you like to do on your days off,’ says Deshaun

‘Who says that you can’t have fun on the clock as well?’

Deshaun doesn’t respond, he just looks around his surroundings once more and decides to move towards the big oak house up the driveway. The sound of gravel shifting under his feet bounces off the trees and makes their footsteps sound louder than most highways at rush hour.

‘Jeez, wouldn’t be able to sneak up on this place very easily,’ says Deshaun

‘That’s how the Mayor likes it. He likes to know who is approaching his driveway,’ says Peter who is looking down at his smart black shoes turning white as he walks through the gravel path.

They continue to crunch up the driveway until they reach the patio leading to the front door. Small flower pots sit side by side up the patio width. All sorts of flowers burst out of the pots, each one a different colour, some even translucent. None of the flowers look unkempt; in fact the whole garden looks like it needs at least three full time gardeners’ to maintain.

‘Taxpayer money sure buys nice things,’ says Deshaun as he approaches the big oak door.

‘Money is money, some people have it, and some people don’t. Some people spend it on crack, and some like flowers. Who can fault somebody on either of those choices?’ asks Peter

‘Um, crack and flowers are two totally different things,’ says Deshaun

‘I’m just saying; would you prefer the Mayor to be spending his money on drugs or flowers?’

‘That’s a stupid question. Besides, I bet his actual house has plenty of questionable stuff in it. You did say after all that this was his GET AWAY house. To me this looks good enough to live in,’ says DeShaun

Peter smiles as he leans in to knock on the door.

‘Nope, I said this is the safe house,’ he says, knocking on the hard oak door, his reflection shining in the glossy finish.

‘Why would he need a safe house?’ asks Deshaun

‘To keep him safe,’ says Peter bluntly

‘From what?’

‘People who want to kill him’

Thirteen

David grabs the militia man’s right hand and moves the pliers he is holding closer to the screaming man’s thumb.

‘No, don’t!’ says the prisoner as he cries for help.

The makeshift camp under New York is looking empty as David and the captured man are the only two people present. David had sent the others off to scavenge food from the underground railway network, hoping that they come across some sort of platform with a couple of vending machines. David has provided them with some hammers he had brought down to the sewer, while he kept the pliers for the work he is about to do on the prisoner.

‘You forced me to do this,’ says David as he edges the pliers closer to the man’s thumb, and opens the pincer

‘Don’t! I’ll tell you…’ before the man can say anything David had fastened the pincer onto his thumbnail and pulled. The force of the sharp pincer had managed to pull his thumb’s nail completely off, revealing the fleshy pink skin under the man’s nail. Small botches of blood start to outwash the pink, soon dripping off the man’s thumb.

‘Ahhhhhhhhhhh, fuck, fuck, my fucking thumb you stupid bastard! I told you I’d tell you whatever you wanted to know,’ screams the man whose still in his army styled fatigues, but looking incredibly dirty.

‘I will listen to you when I please, not when you say. I have given you ample chances, and yet I still don’t know your name! You haven’t told me anything, that is why I’m going to pull all your fingernails off until you do,’ says David, bending down on one knee.

‘My name’s….’ again, David pulls another nail, this time on the index finger.

The man lets out another scream, this one louder than the one before.

‘Fucking stop it you prick!’ says the man, struggling for breath

‘You sure are rude for someone who is trying to convince me that you are going to be cooperative’

The man laughs

‘Fuck you,’ says the man

David grabs the man’s middle finger and snaps it back, breaking it.

‘Fuck!’ screams the man

‘Tell me what I want to know and I won’t take the nail off,’ say David

‘My name is Tony. I work for a group called the Covert Army. We are an anti-establishment militia and our goal is to take over the Whitehouse,’ says the man named Tony, speaking faster than he had ever spoken before.

David starts laughing.

‘Take over the Whitehouse?’ he says in disbelief

‘Yeah,’ says the man calmly, trying to catch his breath back.

‘And how do you suppose you accomplish that with the blinking lights that are making people explode left, right and center?’

The man smiles a sadistic smile.

‘
We deployed those lights
.
We are responsible for those deaths
. That’s how we are going to
take over the Whitehouse
,’ says Tony 

Fourteen

Jesse Manteo and Ricky Pastori are walking down the cusp of 9
th
on 10
th
after witnessing an explosion just above them in which an apartment building’s windows were blown outwards and shards of glass had rained down on them.

Jesse has brung along a woman in which he had rescued earlier that day from a group of young men who had some evil intentions.

‘So when are we getting to the police precinct?’ asks Gianna

‘I don’t know, are you a kid or something? Stop it with the
are we nearly there yet
? Routine,’ says Ricky, bringing a smile to his partner’s face.

‘I’m sure we will get there soon Gianna,’ says Jesse, looking back at the pretty blonde who is tagging along a few paces behind the two broad-shouldered cops.

‘I tell you what, these streets are looking less and less lived in with every new block we take,’ says Ricky, looking on at the empty and derelict streets surrounding them.

‘Well maybe the people who lived on these streets were a tad smarter than us, and decided to leave the city already,’ says Jesse

‘If only we were smarter,’ says Ricky

‘Well at least we don’t have any of those symptoms the exploding people get,’ says Gianna

They all look down at their wrists and see nothing but bronzed skin.

‘Well, there’s always a bright side, that’s what I say!’ says Jesse.

Suddenly a massive set of explosions are heard in the distance, followed by an even bigger flame ball mushrooming in the air.

‘What the fuck is that?’ says Ricky

The sky goes bright orange as shards of glass and specs of molten pepper the air.

‘Everyone, get inside that building,’ shouts Jesse, pointing at a hardware store.

‘Why? What’s happening?’ asks Gianna, the fear in her voice is as audible as the sounds of the explosions.

‘We’ve just been hit by a nuke,’ says Jesse

Fifteen 

The ground shakes below Donner and the group. Ray looks at her in fear as they stop dead in the middle of the tracks. The static light bulbs above their heads start to swing from side to side as a crescendo of dust kicks up off the muggy walls and thick air.

‘What the hell was that?’ asks Ray, more of a thought, than a question.

Donner looks at the two little girls beside them and smiles.

‘Probably just a quake,’ says Donner

‘In New York?’ says Ray

‘Stranger things have happened,’ says Donner

The both of them look down at the girls and try and limit their ability to scare the two already frightened little ones.

‘I’m sure your right, yeah an earth quake isn’t so bad is it?’ says Ray, smiling at Abigail and Tristan

‘Not if the walls come crashing down and burry us alive,’ says Tristan 

Ray starts to chuckle at the fortitude of the little girl.

‘Well they won’t come down on us, you hear me Tristan?’

She nods her head. Abigail smiles at her sister.

‘What about the trains? Can they kill us?’ asks Abigail

‘No, there are no trains here. They have all stopped and are parked with all the other trains at the train station,’ says Donner

‘Is Thomas the Tank with them?’ asks Tristan

Donner smiles, the rumbling of the previous explosion is still rippling through the tracks.

‘I think Thomas the Tank is in England,’ says Donner

‘
He
can’t hurt us?’ asks Tristan

‘No, why would Thomas the Tank hurt you?’ Asks Ray

‘Not Thomas,
the man
,’ says Tristan

‘What man?’ asks Ray

‘The one who made our parents go to sleep,’ says Tristan

Both Donner and Ray look at each other at a loss of words. Donner’s eye’s hold more emotion in them than any other set of eyes that Ray has ever seen.

‘No, he’s sleeping too,’ says Ray

‘Forever?’ asks Abigail

Donner shakes her head.

‘No darling, just until we know what to do with him,’ she says.

Abigail’s face goes flushed, as she scrunches her eyebrows down and pulls a face.

‘What’s wrong?’ asks Ray

‘I want him to sleep like mommy and daddy! It’s only fair!’ she says, stomping her foot down in protest