AK 239: The Enemy Is Already Here

“I believe it’s in Alaska, sir!”

The general really doesn’t think this could possibly be something with which his valuable time should be wasted,

“Have we verified their identity?”

“Yes, sir. FBI HRT Gold team is en route and their commander is on the phone.”

The general breathes a big sigh and then says, “John, what is all this?”

John A. Smith is the Gold Team leader and these guys obviously know each other. John A. Smith answers the general saying,

“I’m anxious to hear as well, general.”

Stone’s voice suddenly blurts out over the speakers:

“Hello? Hello? Is anybody there?”

“Send the fuckin’ Navy.”

“Send the fuckin’ Marines.”

“Send ’em all, damn it!”

“Who is this?” asks general Norton.

“Robert Frickin’ Stone, Chief of Police, Ketchikan Alaska. Who the hell is this?”

“This is General Norton NORAD.”

“NORAD my ass! More like Gonad!”

“How the fuck does a Russian sub detonate a nuclear weapon in my town, damn it!” retorts Stone.

The general takes him off the speaker. The general looks to his assistant,

“He has a fouler mouth than me!”

The general looks around the room,

“MWC? Can you confirm this?”

MWC is the Missile Warning Center located in the same complex.

MWC airman stands, “Satellites picked up a small light & heat signature in the area moments ago.”

“Damn it! Now I’m going to start cussing and swearing.

Jerry from the FBI HRT Gold Team says,

“We’ll be there in ten!”

The general adds, “We’re gonna need more than a hostage rescue team if we’re taking on a Russian sub. What kind of sub is it? What assets are in the area?”

Another airman speaks up,

“Sir, we have two F35s off the Ronald Reagan. They’re 47 nautical miles away.”

“Are they armed?” asks the general.

“Yes, sir, each have two — 500 pounders.”

“Reroute. Send them here. ASAP. And give me an ETA!”

“Yes sir!”

“And put that foul mouth back on the speaker. This is General Norton again. Can you identify the submarine?”

“It’s Russian. I’d bet my retirement on it! It has hostile intent because it just launched some sort of missile at Bokan.”

The general asks, “Bokan?”

“Bokan! Bokan!” says Stone.

The general asks, “Bokan? What the hell’s a Bokan?”

“It’s a freaking mountain, you dumb fuck! Mother fucking….” says Stone in the background on NORAD’s speakers.

The general turns off the speaker system and Stone is silenced.

The general says to an airman, “Put Bokan Mountain up there.”

“Okay, Mr. Stone, I have you on the speaker again,” says the general.

“There are Russians on Bokan too!” says Stone.

“So let me get this straight…”

The general continues, “You believe a Russian sub just launched a missile at themselves?”

“Do you have any evidence that Russians are involved?” asks the general.

Stone says, “All I know is somebody just blew up a mountain in the United States of America. So you better get everybody over here, Goddamn it!”

General Norton picks up a tiny Christmas tree sitting near him saying,

“Leave it to the f’ing commies to attack us on Christmas!”

Fishing Trawler

King of the Crabs

Several Iranian guards with AK 47s walk the deck of King of the Crabs trawler.

There is an orange glow in the background on Bokan Mountain.

It’s very quiet here so I have to swim slowly.

I motion to Jen who is swimming through the water, parallel to me, to board The Cod-Father.

We are swimming through the cold water as the two Iranian trawlers sit, moored at the end of the pitch-black dock.

I quietly climb aboard on a rope ladder near the plimsoll line that I suspect the real owner’s let down as a distress signal to someone who might have noticed.

Apparently, no one noticed.

As I climb the hull I have to stop as there is an Iranian with an AK standing right at the railing.

I’m hanging on to this rusty old ladder, over the water, when I realize the rust on the metal rungs have cut my hands and they are now bleeding. I have to pull one hand away and try to stop the bleeding.

This is not working very well.

If I go back I’ll likely cut my hands even worse.

Retreat is not an option.

Just when I think I’ll have no other choice, I notice several scientists, including Doctor Vladimir Peskov, in white coats walking down the dock toward the boats.

As they walk to the edge of the dock, The Russian scientists, that haven’t been killed from the blast, look dazed and confused.

The Iranian that was preventing me from boarding now walks, on the boat, toward the Russian scientists, on the dock.

I’m able to board the boat and sneak up to the bridge.

I can see a man in an Iranian general’s uniform talking on his satellite phone,

“Shahab 4 was a brilliant success. Praise Allah. But the nuclear EMP blast should have taken out all of the lights and electronics for fifty miles. Everything sill works on this boat. Why?”

Meanwhile, an Iranian soldier on the deck yells at the scientists who are walking in a daze, “Come closer.”

As the unarmed scientists walk near the boat the Iranian soldier asks,

“Are there any others that made it?”

Doctor Peskov says,

“Nyet. They were all killed. Could I have a glass of water?”