THIRD REICH THIRD STRIKE! Chapter 10-12

riskdebonair (67)in #fiction • 7 years ago (edited)

Third Reich Third Strike!!!

Swastika on his Arm

It was the 6th of August, 2005. Keith walked through the city of New Orleans. It was a humid afternoon and the temperature was beyond hot. The humidity combined with the high temperature made the weather conditions very uncomfortable. Keith did not realize how disagreeable summer weather could be until he arrived in New Orleans during August. It was his first time visiting, and also his first time to travel to the United States of America. He was a tourist; taking in the sights and admiring the architecture of this beautiful city.
Where he came from does not matter, nor does his real purpose of visit; what matters is what happened.

The streets were deserted as most people were avoiding the deathly hot afternoon sun. The traffic flowed at a steady slow pace. The sun was getting to Keith. He had already removed his t-shirt and was close to going down to his boxers. He walked past a coffee shop filled with those who were sensible enough to take refuge from the sun. The air conditioning inside seemed potent as the customers inside were seemingly untouched by the hot hot heat. He would have joined them, but he was on a mission. He had places to go, and people to see. In the direction of the Jewish quarter he walked. It was whilst crossing a bridge over a certain river that the event would occur. He wasn’t the only person crossing the bridge. There were several other people there when it happened, but he was the only who IMPLODED!!!
Something caught Keith’s eye. He paused for a moment as he stared out into the distance. His eyes were focused on the river bank, when as if by magic, a man appeared. The man stood at the exact spot where Keith was staring. He was wearing a brown uniform and had a swastika on his arm. He disappeared, and then reappeared several times until he finally became… stuck.
For Keith it was as if watching a badly edited film sequence where something had been removed and then replaced in different frames. It did not look right, it did not look natural.
Keith was the only human to observe this event. It shouldn’t have happened.

The events that should never have been are constantly repeated, and those that should are quickly forgotten

It was at 13.24 that a mini earthquake erupted near a certain bridge. Pedestrians crossing the bridge were thrown to the ground. There was only one death. The man’s apparent death was never explained. Instead of making big news the incident would soon be drowned into obscurity, as something more impossible was about to unfold…

…

Adolf opened his eyes. He found himself staring out over a long winding river that ran through a small suburb and towards some larger buildings. He was no longer in an underground bunker, he was in New Orleans. He was still wearing his brown uniform with a swastika on his arm; his black boots were pristinely polished, and his toothbrush moustache was magnificent.
He looked left and then he looked right in an attempt to orientate himself. It was obvious that he was no longer in Germany. Although the weather was hot and humid, he did not notice. He was preoccupied with exploring. With great ease he climbed up the river’s embankment. People were still shocked from the earthquake, and very few paid attention to him. Those that did could see from Adolf’s walking posture that he had a very serious demeanour and was not joking around.
Adolf could feel himself being drawn to a certain location. Something was reeling him in.
It was a very surreal experience for Adolf who began to walk, unbeknownst to him towards the Jewish quarter…

Angelo el Diablo!

Bleached Away by the Burning White Light

“Am I the same person I was yesterday?”
The seemingly endless crusade through the unforgiving desert evokes such thoughts in the Man. In contrast the Boy remains steadfast as always. The Man admires the Boys determination. Throughout the entire journey that they have been together, the Boy has always kept a cool head. The Man at this point was losing his cool. The sun is unrelenting and walking so far in this tundra has proved arduous. The Man has been wandering for a very long time and now he is nearing the end of his journey. The only thing in his way is the desert. At no point in his journey has the Man stopped and doubted himself, but now the hot as hell desert makes him feel uncertain. The Man and his resolve come to a halt.
“You need to keep going, we’re almost there” says the Boy.
The Boy knows the Man cannot take much more, but that doesn’t matter. He has to make it to the end. He has to finish it.
“You have to make it to the end. You have to finish it” pleads the Boy.
The Man purposefully takes his hat off and wipes his brow. The Boy is right, he cannot stop now. If he does the desert will consume him. The Man observes his surroundings. The sun angrily glares down at him.
“There’s something in the distance” speaks the Boy.
It is too far off in the distance for the Man to ascertain what it is. But knowing there is something up ahead rouses the Man’s spirits. It is a pleasant change from the unvarying topography. The Man gathers his resolve and begins to move forward again. He has machinations to thwart.

The Man walks and the Boy follows. As they get closer to the “something in the distance” they see that it is a tree. The tree is in full bloom. Luscious green leaves bind together creating a welcoming canopy that provides sweet reprieve from the sun. The Man senses an aura of familiarity. It is no ordinary tree.
There is no sign of an oasis sustaining the tree, perhaps it is underground the Man thinks.
The tree is surrounded by several large rock formations. It is an ideal location to hold out against any hostile attacks as there is plenty of cover.
“We’ll rest here” he tells the Boy.
The Boy doesn’t need rest, but he knows what the Man means.
The Man takes off his hat and boots and lies down at the base of the tree. He looks north into the distance. A solitary mountain is just on the horizon. He knows that is the place he has been looking for. There he will find the man with the white hair. He has more than enough guns to kill him. You only need one is what the boy has told him.
“This place is…”
The Man dozes off before the Boy has a chance to finish. He begins to dream of past memories, of the girl whose name he has lost.

One man’s dream is another man’s nightmare

The Man is now an adolescent. His universe is on the precipice of ending. The white haired man has betrayed his father and stolen the device for himself. His father has planned a counter attack.
“Whatever happens, he must be stopped. We cannot allow him to use it” speaks the Man’s father.
His father wears blood red armour and carries a spear; he has called everyone from their clan to arms.
“What does he have?” questions the Man to his Father.
“… There is no time for these questions ******, we need to set off” retorts his father.
He presses “Where did you two find it?”
“We took it… we stole it from a traveller.”
“A traveller?”
“He wouldn’t relinquish it and now… I’m sorry ******. This is my entire fault. Let’s go, everyone is waiting for us.”

His father has revealed nothing about the true nature of the device, but the Man knows that it must be extremely dangerous to have his father worry this much.
They meet the rest of the clan and travel on horseback to where the white haired man is hiding out. There is about thirty of them in total; all of them highly skilled warriors.

The white haired man had once been part of their group. Shortly after the incident with the doppelgangers, the white haired man grew distant from everyone. He had become obsessed with an idea, obsessed with assuming total control. The Man’s father realised the device was too dangerous to ever use, and wanted to destroy it, but the white haired man had other plans, and so stole the device and began tinkering with it. The device although not yet fully activated was punching small holes in space and time, and releasing things that should not exist.

The clan approaches the white haired man’s stronghold. It is spring but as they get closer they cross a bordering point from green grass to snow covered fields. The air is now cold.
“We need to hurry!” exclaims the Man’s father.
They charge forward on horseback. Without warning they are met by an opposing force coming at them from over a hill. It is an Ambush!
The white haired man has gathered followers whom he has twisted into monstrous beings. One of his followers stands at 8 feet tall with overly sized muscles. He looks more ape than human. The ape man is by far the most fearsome looking foe, wielding a gigantic spiked club. The rest of his followers are thin, shrivelled, twisted beings. They will be disposed of quickly.

The battle commences and the death toll starts to rise. The ape man swings its club killing anyone who gets close to it. The Man’s father manages to penetrate the ape man with his spear, but is grievously wounded by a violent swing from the beastly creatures arm. The Man sees that his father is still alive and so continues charging forward towards the white haired man’s stronghold.
As the Man moves through the fray the white haired man appears on horseback carrying a nondescript device. The Man charges with two other clan warriors by his side towards the white haired man. As they get close to him the ground starts to shake. The two clansmen fall off their horses. The Man holds strong, but eventually he is also thrown from his horse. He picks himself off the ground, trying to maintain his balance as the ground shakes beneath him. His balance adjusts and he sprints towards the white haired man. He is running towards the white haired man from the side; the white haired man has not noticed him. Suddenly without warning dark clouds close in and a legion of wraiths appear in the sky. With gluttonous eyes the phantoms in the sky look down upon the men. The men stand aghast, frozen at the sight of the grotesquely contorted creatures that hover above them.
The Man ignores the ominous sight from above. He has no time for bogymen. He rushes the white haired man who has no time to react as his horse has been spooked by the wraiths. White Hair falls to the ground gripping onto the nondescript device. White Hair attempts to get up. The Man tackles him. An explosion of light resonates from the device. Both White Hair and the Man are both knocked onto the ground. The Man turns his head to see the ape man (who unbeknownst to the Man had been chasing him) exploding and imploding. The ape man’s hand subsequently explodes as his arm implodes, then his shoulder explodes and his head and torso implodes, splattering blood everywhere. The Man feels the force of gravity holding him to the ground. He cannot move. He struggles to turn his head, but he manages to look up into the sky which is littered with the foreboding creatures. One last burst of light emanates from the device and all at once everything is ablaze. The wraiths have been dissolved, seemingly bleached away by the burning white light. The force of gravity that pins the Man to ground relinquishes itself. The Mans vision has been temporarily impaired by the light. As his sight slowly restores the Man finds that he cannot see his father or anyone else beyond the white horizon where he finds himself. He pulls himself up from the snowy ground and sees White Hair standing a few metres away from him. They stare at each other. The ground begins to shake once more and without warning, White Hair and the Man are buried in snow…

Time passes and the Man finds himself being pulled from his snowy grave. He is half alive. He has nearly frozen to death and most of his energy has been drained. A group of displaced Chickasaw American Natives have pulled the Man out from a large mound of melting snow. The topography is that of desert plains. The Chickasaw tribe saw the snow and thought it was an auspicious sign. They place the Man on the back of their cart and bring him to the nearest town. As the Man is transported in the cart he takes in his surroundings and surmises he is no longer in the world he knew. Things have changed.

Action Blackson!

The Grimace

Maris left the bar around 10pm in a drunken stupor. It had been another solitary night of consuming ethanol; sitting alone at the bar ordering whiskey after whiskey. As he left a piano overture could be heard resonating from some unbeknownst place. It sounded faintly like Moonlight Sonata. Maris was too drunk to appreciate the music. All that mattered to him was the cooling breeze that granted sweet respite from the warm night. Before he would begin his 2 mile journey back home he had something to do. Maris stumbled down an alleyway around the corner from the bar, drunkenly reclined against a wall and violently vomited everywhere. He then passed out. It was an ordinary night of being consumed by his demons.

We must fight our demons, not by running from them, but by charging at them head on

Perhaps 10 minutes had passed when he awoke, maybe he was unconscious for longer. It did not feel like a long time to him. The sky was clear and the stars shone down at Maris as he lay on his back gazing upwards towards the heavens. A puddle of vomit lay beside him; it was almost beautiful. He could no longer hear the piano playing.
“Ughhh” Maris grunted as he turned his head towards the puke.
He slowly pulled himself off the ground and with heavy breathing stood still for a few seconds before exiting the alley. He was still drunk and out of control. He had no chance of avoiding what he was about to walk himself into.

A man walked passed wearing a suit. He was carrying a large briefcase with a yellow top hat emblem with the initials R.H. written underneath. He didn’t see Maris. The man had long white hair and was walking very briskly as if he had somewhere to be. Maris was still inebriated but feeling a bit more sober after the vomiting and short “nap”. A strange sense of déjà vu crept over Maris. Something seemed very familiar and so he decided to follow the white haired man. Maris had no choice in the matter; he was being drawn in.
“I’ve got a bad feeling about” he quietly whispered to himself.

Maris followed the white haired man to a nondescript building. White Hair was in too much of a rush to notice the conspicuous inebriated man following him. He held the briefcase with both hands; with one hand on the handle and the other clinging to the side. Anyone with astute observational skills would realise that the contents was of importance.
“Drugs?” Maris thought out loud.
White Hair entered the building through a side door. Maris pretended to walk past the building, attempting to get an idea of his surroundings. There were several suspiciously inconspicuous vans parked around the corner of the building but Maris did not take much notice. The cool night air had begun to lose its cool, strong winds had started to blow; a warning of what was to come.
Maris approached the side door. There was an open padlock on the door. He could hear two voices coming from the other side. One of the voices sounded stereotypically Russian. The Russian seemed to do most of the talking.

“…iridium.”
“Ha ha ha! You are strange, but I like you.”
“Have you brought the…”
“Of course, although I still can’t get my head around this.”
“What?”
“Well, what you want I see no need for having, especially for such a trade. You want me to keep the rest? And I still get money for all of them?”
“I only need one, if you have a problem I’ll leave.”
“No no no, I don’t mean that. Anyway I’m sorry for calling you out here on such short notice.”
“…”
“Well, here you go.”
“Load the rest into the briefcase.”
“And the briefcase?”
“Consider it a souvenir.”
“R.H.? That stand for something?”
“Yes…”

Maris’ mind began to wander. He forgot himself for a moment too long and impetuously burst through the door. He quickly saw the building was nothing more than a derelict warehouse. The inside was dark and desolate. White Hair and the Russian stood under one of the few remaining working lights.
“Freeze!” Maris shouted realising he had forgotten to draw his gun.
He reached for his holster and grabbed the butt of his gun. Withdrawing it with vigour he lost his grip and the gun hurtled towards the ground. He was still too inebriated for such quick actions.
White Hair stood still. He looked calm and calculated as he put something into his pocket. The Russian was in a state of consternation. He wore an overcoat and was now holding the briefcase with the yellow top hat emblem.
“Who in the hell!” the Russian exclaimed.
He then pulled out a submachine gun from his overcoat. He fully extended his arm and took aim for Maris.
Before Maris had a chance to think about anything, a beeping noise began to emit from White Hair.
“Early?”
The lights went off and all was dark. As Maris tried to find cover a blinding shockwave of light pulsated from White Hair. Maris was knocked to the ground by the shockwave from the flash of light. The Russian was too close to White Hair, and let out a yelp as his shoulder to his hip got crushed by a gravity 1000 times that of earths. The briefcase fell to the ground as the remains of the Russian slumped to the ground. A lone arm with a firm grip on a submachine gun lay on the floor. Blood pooled around the now corpse. Some of the blood had been crystallised. The lights went back on, and for the most part the warehouse was illuminated. Maris got up and searched the room… White Hair was gone.

The briefcase lay there on the floor, slowly becoming surrounded by pooling blood. The yellow top hat emblem was now stained red. The number locks on the briefcase was set at 616. Maris tried his luck and the briefcase popped open. A green fluorescent glow emitted from it.
“What the hell?” exclaimed Maris.
The briefcase was filled with fluorescent green vials labelled tritium. One was missing. Maris had stumbled onto something big and he knew he was in over his head. He couldn’t report this, a man had disappeared and another had exploded. Insanity tightened its grip on Maris.
“Keep it together Blackson! Keep it together!”

Thoughts of this being a very vivid nightmare or perhaps a hallucination flooded Maris’ mind, but deep down Maris felt that this was bona fide reality. He didn’t have long to gather his thoughts as he was not alone. When White Hair left the Grimace had arrived.