Archive for the ‘Flash Fiction’ Tag

Acid Rain (Part 4)

Tel Aviv, Israel

A loud roar echoed through the dark, narrow passageway deep beneath the floor they’d just descended, the reverberations of missile attacks pitching them against the walls. Sam threw himself over Eli shielding him from what sounded like explosions of incoming missile attacks. Walls shook. The floor above them cracked, split in places weakening the ceiling structure. The sound of windows breaking and furniture knocked about could be heard as volleys of shells were heard exploding in the skies.

“It is what I feared.” Eli said, his voice muffled under Sam’s weight as he tried to regain voice and composure.

“What?”

“I had a premonition…of something coming, from a dream I had. This is just a forewarning.”

“From Iran?”

“Yes. God wants to prepare us for the onslaught that is coming. It is time for Israel to ready, ‘David’s sling.’”

“What do you know about, ‘David’s Sling?’” Sam said.

Eli smiled. “I have my sources, Sam. I may be a retired IDF general, but am still in the ‘know’.  The U.S. president could save himself another embarrassing calamity if he would stop declaring accolades to come out of this lame deal of his. He can’t expect to slow or stop Iran’s uranium enrichment production.”

They donned gas masks and made their way up the steps into the interior to assess the damage of Eli’s home. A part of the roof was blown off. Clouds of black smoke hung like an angry pall over Tel Aviv. The time froze on a grandfather clock, its pendulum stilled at 3:48 p.m., the eve of Shabbat. Lights flickered, then went dark. Glass shards from broken windows, lamps and vases lay scattered through the house from the impact.

When they’d made their way through the mess to the outside they saw traffic lights knocked out, dangling from poles where cars crashed or careened into other vehicles, people or objects. Drivers were slumped over their seats from the impact, doors flung open. Fires erupted. Gas and oil tanks exploded spewing contents released by the blasts. People scurried for cover, pulling gas masks free from bags or totes carried, as common as a jogger with his water bottle.

“Those missiles came from the east.” Sam said, looking at the tails of white plume.

Eli nodded. “Iran. To think those puppets sat around a conference table trying to appease the world’s superpowers when Iran and the Ayatollah had already decided our fate.”

Sam pulled out his cell phone, and tried calling his commander. There was no signal. He checked messages. “They’ve blown out our cell towers, and communication satellites.”

Eli tried unsuccessfully to reach emergency military operations on a command communication device.

“Internet service, power and wireless; all of it, knocked out. They’re trying to isolate us. I’ve got to get back to my unit.”

“I’m coming with you. I’m re-enlisting myself, voluntarily.”

As they made their way through blocked and crowded streets they saw the injured, the dead and the destruction so great Eli knew where he was needed most.

“Sam, go ahead. I am going to stay here, and help with the injured and the…diseased. Go. God speed. Be the soldier Israel has trained you to be.”

They embraced, each with their own thoughts, not wanting to express aloud their concerns.

_____________

This is a continued story, part 4 of 5 parts. Comments and feedback are always welcome. Parts 1-3 can be found under the heading of, Acid Rain.,   Acid Rain, Part 2,   and Acid Rain, Part 3

Joyce E. Johnson (2015)

 

Posted April 9, 2015 by Joyce in Fiction, Flash Fiction, My Writings

Tagged with , , , , ,

Acid Rain (Part 3)

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Tel Aviv, Israel

 

After the hijacking of the Chinese freighter, Black Dragon security modifications were made on freighter and cargo lines. Swat teams and undercover agents were posted to every ship, cargo and cruise line for all scheduled crossings. The impact was felt in the once friendly skies of air travel, too. Ticket sales were down. Airlines reduced their fares significantly to entice travelers with bargain deals, but people were afraid to fly. Trains were routinely checked and swept for devices, bags, even trash disposed while on board. Railway and Amtrak routes were routinely checked for bombs or devices hidden under or near tracks.

There was no exact number to determine how many active terrorists’ cells were in the U.S., Middle East and Europe, but estimated to be in the thousands, all trained, committed, and devoted to their mandate; to kill any and all not converted or sympathetic to Islam, whether Jew or Gentile, American or otherwise. Educated and highly skilled in chemical, biological and nuclear explosives, experts were brought in to train teams sent out to places wherever opportunity existed, all under the command and ‘head’ of one, known as ‘Goliath’.

They infiltrated themselves into society, many involving themselves in civic or charity organizations, churches, or synagogues. On the surface they were Christian or Jew, purporting to be patriots of their resident country. But, to the soul they were fanatical, committed Islamic jihadists. They spoke fluent English or were fluent in the dialect of their assigned location with no prior foreign accent. Those in the U.S. were in fact born and raised in the U.S. They would martyr themselves for Allah.

__________________

Tel Aviv, Israel

Sam entered the home of his old friend and mentor, Eli. Eli was a retired army commander with the IDF. He shook hands with Eli’s bodyguard and was escorted into his study.

“Samuel, it is good to see you my friend.” Eli embraced Sam, greeting him with the traditional Hebrew kiss on each cheek. “You look good, except for the lines of stress around your eyes. I suspect this is not just a social visit, is it? I see it in your eyes. You have something on your mind.”

Sam smiled. “You know me too well, Eli.”

“Sit down. Let’s talk. I sense your current mission has not been going well. I assume your unit is working with the U.S. teams on this stream of recent attacks?”

“Trying to. But, their American president is none too happy with the way we do things here. It has not been determined for certain who carried out the San Francisco attack and hijacking of the Black Dragon. They cannot find those responsible. Their disappearing act was flawless, no trace, but it stinks of Hamas’s hands all over this. I am not so sure we will have the U.S. support and cooperation much longer with the animosity their president feels toward our PM and Israel. The U.S. administration wants to cut a deal with Iran too.”

“Yes. I know.”

They talked for another couple hours.  When it was time for Sam to leave, Eli said. “Don’t go out the front, the way you came in. Let me take you out through another exit from my home. Where did you park your SUV?”

“Six blocks down and two streets over from here. I was careful, Eli. I don’t think anyone was tailing me.”

“Nevertheless, let me lead you out the back way. Then you can switch back, and get back to your car from there.”

__________________

To be continued…

This is a work of fiction and a continued story with parts 1 & 2 previously posted under the same title, Acid Rain  Feedback and comments are always welcome.

Joyce E.Johnson (2015)

 

 

Acid Rain (Part 2)

Present day – San Francisco, Ca., U.S.A.

Boom! Bang! Swoosh!

People watched, their eyes fixed on the skies, waiting and expectant for each explosion of color that mushroomed in the sky. Huge spheres of dazzling light fell like ribbons cascading to the ground. They cheered, clapped and celebrated. Short minutes later small rockets became chemical weapons exploding after launch emptying their contents on victims as they succumbed to their fate. Not until the first victims went down did anyone suspect something had gone terribly wrong. The ground turned white, smoldering from the burning hot ash. Those closer to the impact lay writhing, screaming from the pain. Their flesh and hair burned from the falling ash raining from the smoke-filled skies. Victims with their eyes shrinking back into red swollen sockets, stinging with pain stumbled as they tried running from the horror. Shrapnel embedded into skin and scalp became deadly darts of death as the poison imploded.

______________________

Tel Aviv, Israel

Sam laid in bed, asleep as the images swirled about in his head.  Subconsciously his hand went to his sweating brow, eyelids twitching. His eyes snapped open. He laid, staring up at the ceiling fan’s blades turning quietly, above him. But, he could still see the images. Because they never went away.    

Now qualified for special op missions, he served with a recon team, given the name, DAVID, for Defensive Arms Validating Israel’s Directives by their Orthodox Jewish general who believed David from Old Testament times was empowered by God. Under David’s rule as commander, and king of Israel they won wars with enemies twice the size or strength of the Israelites. Most memorable was their victory over the Philistine army giant, Goliath that came against Israel when David was a mere shepherd boy. But, theirs was a new kind of army, today; one that counted on the stockpiled arsenal they’d built up, but held back from using. Until now.

“Sam! Grab some coffee and bagels, and take a copy of the brief. We’ve got a lot to cover. You look washed out. Get enough sleep?”

“Yeah. Sure. I’m on adrenalin overload, you know?” His team members laughed.

“OK, let’s get started. Here’s what we’ve got so far.” Jon, their team leader briefed them for the next two hours as they went over all the latest intelligence reports concerning their unit and their mission.

When rocket fire erupted again over Israel the Jewish state responded swiftly with a more aggressive counter strike to the Palestinians’ refusal to disarm and honor a cease-fire agreement.

There was little empathy for Israel when they destroyed much of the West Bank in Gaza. Anti-Semitism was on the rise, everywhere. But, the U.S. administration promised to remain supportive.

Many of the old Hamas would not agree to any peace negotiations. They wanted only the destruction and annihilation of Israel altogether, much like Iran, so Hamas joined their larger, more organized terrorists’ cells active in Europe, the Middle East, even the U.S. They recruited pro-Islamic and pro-Palestinian fighters from all over. Although many countries, including the U.S. waged their own war against ISIS it was only a part of a much larger terrorist organization now operating under one, known as, ‘Goliath.’ The smaller factions under Goliath competed for control in their own regions.

Sam served with the task force in Israel who hunted for, ‘Goliath’s Head.’ With the increased terrorism globally the U.S. and Israel would now come together as one, against Iran where they believed ‘Goliath’ operated.

“The U.S. teams have confirmed the recent rocket attacks in the U.S. are related, and the result of the shipment of arms or bombs that were on the, Black Dragon. None of that shipment has yet been found, located, nor the ones involved, apprehended. The U.S. team believes they wanted to hit the U.S. because of their support for us.” Jon said.

______________

To be continued…

This story is only a work of fiction.  Part 1 of Acid Rain was previously posted. My purpose in writing this story is not intended to frighten, be prophetic or factual. It is only a story to bring to light what does exist. The terrorist threats to our country, the U.S., to Israel and to others as well. Wishing that every country and its people could be at peace, prosper, get along with the rest of the world without hate, and live in harmony would be a wonderful thing. But, that just does not happen and will not happen as long as evil finds a home and lurks about in the lives of those who invite it in, and when that happens there is death, destruction and chaos. But, if we turn our eyes and hearts to God in these times and ask that He give us strength, courage and wisdom in all things and show us how to love others, and those whom He blesses He will bless us.   “I will bless those who bless you, and whoever curses you I will curse; and all people on earth will be blessed through you.” Genesis 12:3 (NIV)

Joyce E. Johnson (2015)

ACID RAIN

Part 1

~~~~

San Francisco Bay – 2:00 a.m., present day

 

The fog in San Francisco can always be counted on to hide things in its hanging mist. Tonight it hung over a freighter in the bay’s recessed pier. But it did not hide all in its shadows.

A guard standing watch at the pier’s receiving station noted its arrival. Moisture clouded the lenses on his binoculars, making it difficult to read the name and markings on the freighter.

He checked the vessel schedule, then lifted his phone to his ear, but never spoke a word. When he turned to a sound behind him a black shape emerged from out of the dark. A small canister thrown at his feet spewed its contents into the room. Before he could get off a shot, the black shape disappeared as fast as it had come.

He raced towards the alarm, but his body felt the heat and sting of the combustible discharge emitted. He stumbled. His face contorted, red and blistered. Tears welled up in his burning eyes. Blood dripped from his nose. His throat and tongue swelled up as if he would choke. Smoke filled the terminal. He had to get out. He couldn’t see anything past the fog like fumes. His lungs felt as if on fire stinging with every breath. Collapsing to the floor, he knew he had only minutes to live.

The killer reappeared on the freighter minutes later.

Unmarked trucks backed up to the receiving dock on pier #94. Men on the freighter wasted no time. They worked methodically making little noise. Gaping doors opened to the empty  trucks and loading began. “Speed it up. We’re running behind. I want those trucks gone when we pull out.”

“Sims? It’s Captain Treadwell from Bay Breeze nine. Do you show a freighter due in tonight? Any ships making late night deliveries?”

“Not that I know of, but wait a second. I’ll look. What’s her name?”

“I can’t find one. Can’t see her markings. Can’t raise a response over the radio either. Seems to have evaded our detection. The guard on duty is not answering his phone.” Captain Treadwell waited.

“Captain? I checked this week’s arrivals and departures. All are accounted for except one.”

“Which one?”

“It’s registered to China’s, Sea Serpent Lines under the name, Black Dragon.”

“Have you made contact with China’s ports about their ship’s delay?” asked Treadwell.

“That’s the weird part about it, captain.”

“How so?”

“Well sir, when we contacted China’s port authority to ask about their ship they said they had no knowledge, or contact. They said it left their port on schedule.”

“OK. Check all incoming deliveries and shipments in the last twenty-four hours. Nothing is to be allowed in or out of port until further investigation. Whatever this freighter was carrying, its been unloaded because it has turned around and headed out to bay. Alert the Coast Guard, DHS, Navy and port authorities. Find out what was on that ship and where it’s been taken. And send your ‘welcome committee’ over to that ship, now!”

“Yes, sir. I’m on it.”

A Coast Guard cutter was dispatched, but it was too late. The freighter exploded sending shrapnel and twisted hunks of steel into the sky.  The sounds of sirens wailed and the port came alive as the terror rained down over the skies of San Francisco Bay.

_____________________

To be continued.

This is part 1 with upcoming continued parts. All future and continuing parts will be under the heading and category of, Acid Rain. This story is only a work of fiction.  My purpose in writing this story is not intended to frighten, be prophetic or factual. It is only a story to bring to light what does exist. The terrorist threats to our country, the U.S., to Israel and to others as well. Wishing that every country and its people could be at peace, prosper, get along with the rest of the world without hate, and live in harmony would be a wonderful thing. But, that just does not happen and will not happen as long as evil lurks about in the lives of those who invite it in, and when that happens there is death, destruction and chaos. But, we can turn our eyes and hearts to God in these times and ask that He give us strength, courage and wisdom in all things and to learn how to love others, respect their faith, their culture and all that He blesses.

____________

Joyce E. Johnson (2015)

 

 

 

A Country Taken (Part 3, conclusion)

It started with a rumble, a sound like a thousand pair of boots trampling, racing across the compound. The skies erupted with loud claps of thunder.

Suddenly, the roof was knocked off its structure with such force as if smacked by an angry hand. A memory flashed before my dazed brain, and I was a child building my fortress and towers with my blocks. Just as quick someone knocked them all down with one fast swoop. My life was then filled with repeated attempts to succeed at all I tried, only to see all come crashing down like my pile of blocks. Never did I really believe God could think me worthy to love when all I did was fail.

The walls and foundation shook till fissures opened wide to the chaos outside. Beams of light poured in with such intensity it came as a shock to my system having become accustomed to this dark place. The noise grew louder, and closer. Everything happened so fast, and yet I was not afraid. Now, as if looking through a magnifying glass the scene before me became crystal clear.  There was a sense of euphoria, an anticipation as I watched in amazement at the battle being fought before my eyes. The ISIS were dwarfed before an army the size and strength of one I could not even imagine. They stood over ten feet tall covered in armor like polished silver. A ruby cross carved into their breastplate with a jewel-studded gold crown at the top was identical to the one on their drawn swords gleaming like early morning sunbeams. The contingent looked like an international army of ethnic and mixed race from countries all over the earth, reclaiming territory, declaring victory. Their eyes were like diamonds, so bright that the brilliance was too great for one to look or gaze upon. Celestial warriors!

A penetrating heat spread through my body from head to feet, and I knew it was not from the fever. The weakness, fever and pain was gone. The bleeding had stopped. I pulled off my bandage; my wounds and abrasions, healed. Adrenalin and strength returned.

I looked at others around me. All were experiencing the same. The presence and spirit of another in the room with us was so powerful I could hardly stand. As His power was unleashed, so great was the impact, I stood in awe, and I believed. There is a God who loves me and it is His Son who came to set us free. His arms reached out encompassing the whole of our little band of fighters, and we passed through the portico into a new realm.

__________________

This story is a work of fiction, but the truths and message are real. There is a God who loves us, will protect us, fight our battles for us and will never let us down or leave us. The book of Psalms in the Old Testament Bible was written by the psalmist, David, a warrior himself, shepherd boy, king of Israel and slayer of Goliath, the giant. Many times he found himself in danger hunted by Saul, the first king who wanted to kill him, but David stayed faithful, persevered and called on the Lord for help. In Psalm 59:16 it says, “But, I will sing of your strength in the morning. I will sing of your love; for you are my fortress, my refuge in times of trouble.” NIV

Joyce E. Johnson (2015)

 

 

A Country Taken (Part 2)

When I woke, I saw only the blackness in what seemed like a bunker somewhere below ground level. I heard coughing, the whispered cries of one praying, and agonizing pleas for help.

I felt someone’s breath on my ear as he leaned in.

“What’s your name?”

“Get away!” I hissed.

“I’m not going to hurt you. Just want to talk.”

I said nothing; just scooted closer to my corner of the cell. He moved too, towards me.

“Well, if they’d wanted to kill us they would have done so by now, don’t you think?” he asked.

“Maybe. I don’t know.” My head felt like it would explode. Whatever was in that injection was not something to help or heal, but to finish me.

“The beheadings I think are just a small part of a larger plan to rid the world of us Christians, Jews or by whatever name or label we give ourselves. In their eyes, we’re all ‘infidels’ of some kind or other. I think what they want is to turn us into weapons of terror.” His rambling now had my attention.

“How?” I asked him.

“Well, we all thought we could count on the protection of our country’s administration, police, and military arms of service. But, we were wrong. They acted too late to destroy these terrorists before they came over, infiltrating our country. So, here comes this new wave of ISIS from somewhere. But, where? They’re popping up everywhere, and no one is safe. They behead some, but not everyone. Why? We fought back, but they grew stronger in number, and our little band of resistance fighters grew smaller and weaker. The worst of it is I think the ISIS have plants in the government, maybe in congress, the pentagon, the military.”

“You’re crazy. That’s absurd.”

“Is it?”

“Did they inject you?” he asked.

“Yes. But, if it was an antibiotic it isn’t helping. I’m shivering. My head is burning with a fever, am dizzy, and so… ”

“It is no antibiotic they gave you.”

“Then, what was it? Since you think you have all the answers.”

EBOLA.

____________________

Joyce E. Johnson (2015) This is a work of fiction and Part 2 of a 3 part story. Part 1 was posted last week, and Part 3, the conclusion will be posted in a few days.

A country taken

They rushed the streets like a swarm of locust. Except for the eyes and above the forehead they were covered in black from head to toe, knives, guns and sabers drawn, bullets riddling all in their path.

When they closed in it was more in their eyes than with gesture or knife that revealed their heart or intent; seething hatred for all but those sworn to serve Allah and Islam. Caucasian, clipped sharp tongue, and blue eyes muddied brown as they bore into my soul, and I daring to not look away, but rather stand like the warrior I’d become as they swore to take me down with a clear swipe of the sword to my head.

Hours later, my head bandaged, my mind struggling to make sense of my surroundings things are murky, shadows moving in and out as if passing through patches of fog.

The face is blurred…shrouded in black.

Their words, “You will convert or die.”

It played through my head like a grinding, hated repeating reel, over and over again. ‘Land of the free?’ This can’t be happening. It isn’t possible. I must be dreaming.

Then, I felt the jab in my arm; an injection of some kind, and knew I was not. Slipping into unconsciousness, I was shoved into a black hole.

______________

 Joyce E. Johnson (2015)

Footnotes: This is a work of fiction (Part 1). Continued parts will be posted as finished.

 

 

Posted January 30, 2015 by Joyce in Faith, Fiction, Flash Fiction

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