"The F.O.G."
by Michael D. Merrett
Chapter
1
The fog comes on little cat feet
“It’s
Saturday night in
He
glanced impatiently up and down the street at the intermittent flow of traffic.
It was
He
took a long drag on his cigarette and exhaled slowly. Even though the money was
good, he was getting tired of this lifestyle. Preying on the misfortune of
others was beginning to wear on him, and for that matter, he never felt very
comfortable with it to begin with. He looked up and down at the rows of three
story houses that lined both sides of the street. Wooden structures for the
most part, and the paint on the exteriors was faded so badly it was near
impossible to distinguish colors anymore. This neighborhood had seen far better
days. He could still remember when he was a kid and how much happier life
seemed. He used to play in these same streets without fear of getting punched
out, shot at in a drive by, or accosted by drug pushers.
Jimmy
was not unmoved by these thoughts and there were more than a few occasions when
he would look at himself in the mirror with self-loathing and curse the
decaying world around him. He was acutely aware that at age 24, he was on a
desperate road to nowhere.
He
had not seen his family in years, did not even know where his mom, dad, and two
sisters were living anymore. They had disowned him as soon as they discovered
he had joined up with a local gang. He missed them terribly and he thought
about them often. He loved them and felt badly that he had disappointed them,
but he chose the security of a gang as a means of survival, not out of choice.
The danger this lifestyle represented was evident in the fact that his first
gang had already lost four members to rival factions. As a means of survival he
decided to change colors and had joined up with the powerful KSA (kick some
ass) just three weeks earlier. In the past two decades, gang membership in the
A
cold breeze was beginning to swirl up and down the street but that was typical
this time of year in a coastal city like
Jimmy
pulled his collar up around his neck. He looked to his right and noticed two
transients walking into an alley between two abandoned buildings down the
street. Homeless people were a common sight to Jimmy but even he noticed that
their numbers were increasing dramatically over the past few years.
There
were only two businesses that remained in operation on
As
Jimmy stood there waiting for customers, there were at least 20 other dealers
in the neighborhood that night along with the usual smattering of hookers and
pimps.
“Hookers,”
Jimmy thought to himself. He always considered that term rather humorous. In
Cars
continued to roll past him in a slow, steady cavalcade. He leaned against the
badly-weathered chain link fence of the house behind him and looked into the
windows of some of the homes across the street. Most of the shades were pulled
down and there didn’t seem to be much activity going on within. Residents
rarely, if ever, ventured out after
A
blue and white late model sedan pulled to the curb in front of Jimmy containing
four young male occupants. He recognized them from a few previous encounters
and walked over to the passenger side of the vehicle as the occupant nearest to
him rolled down the window.
Jimmy
leaned in to speak with the driver. “Yo, what’s it going to be homes?” He
glanced around at the other three. All were well dressed, well groomed with
money to burn no doubt. College kids out to spend daddy’s hard-earned money on
a quick fix to bring back to the frat house party.
“Hey,
my main man!” the driver said trying to impress his companions, as if he and
Jimmy were close friends. Jimmy just gave him a blank stare.
Then
the driver’s tone turned more serious. “One eight ball if you’ve got it,” he
said.
Jimmy
reached into his pocket and took out a small plastic bag containing a marble
shaped rock of white powder. He glanced up and down the street as a
precautionary measure, although he knew full well that the local authorities
showed little interest in this neighborhood’s ills. Cops only showed up when
they absolutely had to, usually in response to shootings or domestic violence
that got out of hand. Drugs were not very high up on their priority list and
Jimmy had not been hassled in almost seven months.
He
handed the bag to the driver and in return the blonde haired teen in the
passenger seat handed him three one hundred dollar bills.
“That
cover it?” the boy said nervously.
Jimmy
counted the bills. “Yeah, that’ll do it, “he muttered with no emotion. “Shake
it easy,” he said as he turned to walk away from the car.
The
transients he had seen entering the alleyway a few moments earlier had lit a
fire in a large metal barrel at the deepest part of the alley. The two men,
both in their late fifties and wearing tattered overcoats, worn out shoes, and
dingy fedora hats warmed their hands over the orange and blue flames. The walls
of the two red brick buildings that lined both sides of the alley were once
furniture stores but they had fallen on hard times and were forced to close.
The walls now provided some shelter from the elements but the alley tended to
become a wind tunnel at times depending on the direction of the currents on any
given night.
Jimmy
noticed a group of five of his fellow gang members coming towards him from that
direction which would take them directly past the entrance to the alleyway. He
hoped they would not see the transients.
The
two men were oblivious to anything taking place outside of their little
temporary home.
“Winter
is coming sure enough,” said Petey, the older of the two. “I ain’t looking
forward to another
“No
kidding,” answered his friend
Petey
took a bottle of red wine from his pocket and held it out to
“Robert
Mondave!” remarked
“Stole
it,” said Petey with a grin. “Some lady was having trouble with her car keys
and put it on the ground. She got distracted and I moved right in. She looked
reasonably well off so I don’t think she will miss it much.”
The
two men passed the bottle back and forth while continuing to rub their hands
together over the flames. Strewn all about them was a fair amount of trash and
discarded furniture from the buildings’ previous owners.
Jimmy
continued to look in the direction of the gang members but they had stopped at
the entrance to the alleyway. They were still a good distance away but he was reasonably
sure the first figure was Spike, the feared leader of the KSA.
“Oh
man,” he muttered to himself. “Just let ‘em be!”
Petey
suddenly noticed the activity near the entrance to the alleyway.
“Don’t
look now but I think we’ve got company,” he said nervously.
“Probably
folks just like us,” he muttered apprehensively.
“I
hope you’re right,” Petey answered, his voice shaking.
As
the figures drew near however, the two men sensed that lady luck was not with
them this night. The lead individual, a large man wearing a black leather
jacket, blue jeans, and leather boots came into view and stopped about five
feet away from the burning barrel. The other four were still indiscernible as
they stopped about five feet behind him.
“Evening
homes,” came a sinister voice that sent chills up Petey's spine. “Nice night
for a fire huh?”
Petey
slowly retreated towards the back wall of the alley, almost tripping over some
debris as he moved.
“Yeah,
hell of a night,” he answered skittishly. “Anything we can do for you boys?’
He
and
The
lead figure took one more step closer. Petey could make out his face now. He
had a huge scar under his left eye. His skin was worn and the look in his eye
was cold and lifeless. They reminded him of the eyes of a snake he had seen on
a National Geographic program some time ago.
“A
cobra,” he thought to himself. “That’s what they remind me of, a cobra.”
“Actually,”
Spike said in a low, guttural tone, “there is something you can do for me.” He
leaned down and picked up a two by four piece of wood that was lying at his
feet and violently jammed it into the barrel. “You can tell all your worthless
friends to stay the hell out of my neighborhood. That’s of course when we are
done laying a beating on you.” A sick sadistic grin came to his face.
Fear
gripped the two men like nothing they had ever felt before.
“Now
wait a minute fellas...” Petey stammered, his voice shaky and cracking. “We
never did anything to you guys. You let us go and we promise to never come
back. I swear!” He was swaying back and forth and wasn’t even aware of it. His
mind was reeling from the intensity and danger in the air.
“Sorry,
but that wouldn’t enhance my nasty reputation very much now would it?” came
Spike’s cold response. “A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. You know what I
mean?” He turned to his four fellow gang members standing behind him and nodded
his head signaling them into action.
“For
God’s sake, wait a minute! Please!” Petey implored as the men moved towards
them menacingly.
Jimmy
was back at his perch wondering why the car he had just sold the eight ball of
cocaine to was still sitting there when he heard something metallic clanging in
the street in front of him. He turned to see what looked like a small metallic
ball rolling in the middle of the street.
“Hey,
who’s throwing shit on my street?” he asked the occupants of the car. “Don’t
you know it’s not polite to litter!”
The
boys in the car glanced up and down the trash-laden street, then back at Jimmy
with puzzled looks.
“Hey,
we didn’t throw anything,” said the driver.
Another
canister landed about twenty yards to Jimmy’s left and rolled into the curb.
“Who
the hell is throwing shit?” he muttered, looking around and then up at the
houses and building tops. Against the darkness of the night, he thought he saw
a figure dropping down from the sky. Before he could clearly focus, there was a
series of loud pops all around him followed by a hot blast of air that almost
knocked him off his feet. Jimmy froze in fear.
“Not
another drive by!” he thought to himself but then the entire street became
enshrouded in a dense cloud of gray smoke. In a matter of seconds, he was
unable to see two feet in front of him. He grabbed the fence behind him to get
his bearings and bent to his knees trying to get out of harms way.
“What
the hell is going on here?” he muttered in disbelief.
Up
and down
“Roll
up the windows!” the driver of the blue sedan shouted to his passengers as the
cloud engulfed them. They couldn’t see a thing but whatever it was, they wanted
no part of it.
Jimmy
continued to crouch against the fence not knowing what to expect.
“Damn,
I can’t see a thing,” he said, reaching inside his trench coat for the .380 caliber
semi-automatic pistol he always carried with him. Just as it cleared his
jacket, he noticed something moving off to his right. It was just a shadow but
he could make out the silhouette of a large person moving very quickly with no
apparent difficulty.
“How
the hell can he see in this shit?” he muttered as he pointed the gun in his
direction but he never got off a shot. He felt something slam into his rib cage
from his left and then everything went black as he slumped to the ground.
In
the alleyway, the lead assailant was just about to raise the wooden club in his
hand to strike
His
effort worked as all five of the assailants turned just as the cloud engulfed
them.
“What
the hell!” Spike shouted, then Petey lost all ability to see him clearly. He
reached out blindly with his hand and managed to clutch
As
they remained there too terrified to move, they could hear shrugs and groans emanating
from the direction of their would-be attackers. There was a tremendous struggle
going on just yards away from them but they could not see any of it. One by one
they heard what they hoped were gang members being thrown against barrels and
debris until after just a few moments all was silent. Petey clutched
“Everything
is alright,” said the voice. “Just wait a few moments and the air will be clear
again. You are safe now.” Then she was gone.
They
remained in a crouched position and the silence persisted. Then the gray smoke
began to clear. Petey could see the barrel where they were warning themselves
just moments ago. The flames were still flickering brightly.
“Is
it safe do you think?” he stammered. “That strange lady said it would be.”
Petey
strained to see the length of the alley and the dim light of the entrance was
just coming into view. It appeared that the alley was uninhabited. He slowly got to his feet and took a few
steps forward. His mouth dropped as he discovered the bodies of the five gang
members strewn about and they were all completely unconscious.
“Petey...come
here,”
Petey
came up beside him and saw the carnage for himself.
“Damn...what
do you think happened to ‘em?” he asked in a stupefied tone.
“I
don’t’ know,”
As
the two men reached the entrance to the alley and stepped out onto the sidewalk,
they were stopped dead in their tracks by the sight before them. All up and
down the street, it was as if everything had been subjected to a huge stun gun.
There were bodies everywhere, cars sat idle in the street, and there was
virtually no movement at all.
Petey
noticed that none of the occupants in any of the vehicles had been affected. He
looked into the eyes of the female driver in the car nearest him and saw sheer
terror. The woman seemed unable to speak; she just sat there behind the wheel
with her mouth hanging open, her mind seemingly struggling to make sense of it
all.
The
two men ran off down the street toward the waterfront.
A
few blocks up, the four teenage customers who had just moments before purchased
their evening’s fix of cocaine now sat glancing out the window in disbelief.
Jimmy was lying on the ground against the fence, his trench coat spread open
and it appeared the contents of his pockets had been removed. There was no
visible sign of injury, no blood, no lacerations. If they didn’t know better,
he wore the appearance of someone who was peacefully sleeping.
By
now the air had cleared completely.
“We’re
outa here!” the driver shouted as he threw the transmission into drive and
slammed the gas pedal to the floor. In a moment, the car turned right onto
Pablo
Juarez was sitting at his dining room table in his lavish 3- story villa with
the only members of his organization that he trusted. Not that he fully trusted
anyone, even his wife and immediate family. In
As
he sat sipping a glass of tequila, he glanced around the long cherry wood table
and asked for reports from each of his lieutenants. Business had been booming
and the Colombian law enforcement machine had been unable to slow their
progress. Even with the limited support the Americans had given them, the
Colombian government still seemed totally inept and incapable of stopping the
unending flow of drugs that continued to be shipped north to the world’s number
one consumer of illegal drugs…the
Cocaine
was still king but methamphetamine was quickly sweeping the country. It was not
easy to make but the markup was tremendous.
“Profits
have exceeded the 25 million dollar mark for the month of September and that is
the most we have ever taken in for a one month period,” said Jose Ramirez, his
right hand man. “I think that calls for a toast!”
“Sure,
why not, a toast,” he said. He rose to his feet and brushed the wrinkles from
his blue Pierre Cardin dinner jacket. “To greater prosperity and to continued
success so I will not have to shoot any of you sons of bitches.” They all
laughed nervously and drank from their glasses.
Suddenly,
the sound of helicopters could be heard overhead.
“What
is that?”
Jose
Ramirez ran to the window and looked up. “I don’t see anything out there boss,
but there is something going on.”
“Arm
yourselves!” screamed
The men
ran for the weapons rack on the far wall and grabbed AK-47’s before heading out
the door to investigate. It was a clear night and visibility was good but while
they stood there gazing skyward, they could see nothing but the stars overhead.
“Stay
sharp!” hissed
“It must
be a government raid,” said
As
the men sought cover behind stone walls and trees, the whirling sound of a helicopter’s
blades floated over the house like a huge bumble bee.
One
of the men began firing wildly into the night air but the copter was gone.
“What the
hell are you shooting at? He’s gone already!” screamed
“Gas!”
yelled Ramirez. “Get back in the house!”
The
men scurried inside and Ramirez slammed the door behind them.
“They are
using gas on us!” he hissed. “The bastards!”
“They
will pay for this!” fumed
The
nuclear missile silo located near Joe Hanson’s farm in
He fully
expected this night to be every bit as uneventful as any other as he began his
He and
his fellow marines usually spent their time wiling away the hours with mundane
drills, reading technical journals and catching up on world news.
But
this would be no ordinary night. As he sat staring at his control panel making
data entries verifying that all systems were running properly, an ear-splitting
alarm sounded.
“What
the hell is going on?” he shouted to the soldier sitting next to him.
“You
got me,” the soldier answered as he prepared to log out of the system per the
locations red-alert protocols. “Another drill I guess!”
“We
just had a drill five days ago!” shouted Fox. “We never have two in one week!”
A
lieutenant poked his head into the control room. “What are you guys doing?” he
shouted. “Evacuate the base! Move your asses!”
Fox
logged out and followed the other soldiers as they ran for the door and headed
up the metal staircase leading to ground level.
They
had practiced evacuations in drills before but this didn’t seem like an
ordinary exercise. For the entire three years he had been stationed there, the
drills had become routine to the point where just about everyone knew when to
expect one. As he reached the exit door, a blast of cold air rushed over him.
The moon was shining overhead as the base’s entire complement of thirty men raced
for the shelter located one hundred yards east of the silo’s entranceway.
“Sign
in once you are inside!” yelled the lieutenant. “We want to make sure everyone
is safely out of there!”
Fox
signed in, then walked over and stood at the small view port facing the silo. The
shelter wasn’t really designed to protect them in the event of the missile
exploding inside the silo accidentally. The odds of such an event, short of a
terrorist infiltration, were astronomically remote. It merely provided them a
central meeting point where men could be accounted for and shuttled out quickly
with the three transport vehicles that were parked in the shelters garage.
“What
could be going on?” Fox said to a marine already standing there. “Someone
report a fire?”
“We
got a report that security was compromised,” said the other marine. “They are
bringing in a search team to do a sweep.”
Fox
heard the base commander’s voice over his shoulder.
“Lieutenant!
Is everyone accounted for?” asked the Commander.
“Yes
sir, everyone has been safely evacuated. The sweep team just called in and they
are on their way.”
Fox
turned back towards the silo and it was eerily quiet when all of a sudden he
was blinded by a brilliant flash of light that forced him to turn away.
“Commander!”
he yelled. “Something is going on out here.”
The
commander ran to the window but by the time he got there, the light was gone.
All that remained was a smoldering hole in the ground where the silo had just
been mere moments ago.
“Jesus
Christ!” he muttered. “Lieutenant, get on the phone to the Pentagon. Now!”
The
security operations room on the seventh floor of the Federal Reserve Bank in
He
glanced up at the clock. It was
“What the
hell is this all about?” he shrieked to the other three officers who were
sitting at computer stations around the room. The hairs on the back of his neck
stood up as the unusually large transactions lit up his computer terminal.
“What’s
wrong?” said officer Dean Campbell sitting next to him.
“Look at
these transfers!” he said with alarm. “Somebody re-routed billions of dollars
and I don’t see any authorization codes next to the transactions!”
Campbell
and the other two officers got up from their chairs and stared down at his
computer screen.
“That’s
impossible,” said
Ward
scrolled down the screen at a long list of transactions that had all occurred
in the past ten minutes while the shift change was occurring.
“Look at
them all,” he said with complete confusion. “I’ve never seen anything like this
before. We gotta notify the chief.”
“Bullshit!”
said
“None of
this makes any sense,” said
“We can’t
just sit here for eight hours and act like nothing happened here,” said Ward as
he searched each of their eyes for direction. He was the least senior member of
the nightshift and was thee least experienced of the group.
“We can
do exactly that,” said
“Look at
the times they occurred,” said officer Pete Stanley standing next to
“Are you
sure about this?” protested Ward. “It just doesn’t seem right to ignore such
large amounts of money.”
“Hey, my
favorite show is coming on in ten minutes,” replied
“Not in
the 23 years I have been here,” replied
“What
about you Ward?” asked
“Well,
no,” answered Ward meekly.
“Ok
then,” replied
“Sounds
like a plan to me,” seconded
Ward
turned back towards his PC in total frustration. It just didn’t seem right but