The American

Chapter 1

 

“Some people ask me, ‘what’s it like living as a kid in the big ol’ apple. It’s every kid’s dream right? Living in the big city, getting girls every other second. Well you’re darn wrong about New York City. It sucks, but we’re trying to make it better through film! Support the High School NYC Film Community today using the link below!” He kept a giant smile for the next ten seconds until a handsome 16-year-old called Johnson yelled from behind the camera, “Cut! Perfect, Timmy, that was just great.”

 

“Do you really think so, I thought maybe I sounded a little dry in one of my last lines.”

 

“It’ll do Timmy.”

 

Johnson looked past Timmy toward his crew, who was eagerly watching him for lunch call. “Well, I suspect from the frankly deafening noises coming from your stomachs that it must be around lunchtime. Alright, that’s a wrap for scene one!” Said Johnson. 

 

Everybody cheered and did little victory dances as most teenagers do. It was hard work shooting a commercial. They had been filming in an abandoned alleyway for about four hours. The advert went something like this; an opening shot of a door near the darkest spot of the alleyway, lit up by some stage lights behind the camera. Then the door opened, and Timmy walked out, waved goodbye to the people inside, and said, “See you guys later!” The camera walked with him to the end of the alleyway, and during this time, he talked to the camera about the great work the High School NYC Film Community does.

 

During lunch, Johnson did a very unusual thing. But first, something must be explained; whenever lunch was called, Johnson would always eat separately from the rest of the crew and would go over the plans in his head. However, sometimes a writer or gaffer would interrupt him and suggest an idea or two. Johnson would take ideas very often if they were good. He felt no shame in executing a good idea from someone other than himself. All seemed normal until Johnson walked from his particular place and over to the rest of the crew. He stood there enjoying the confused look on their faces but said, “Hey guys, we did some seriously good work today. We can finish the rest of it tomorrow after church. How about we call it a day after lunch, eh?”

 

One kid named Tyrone said, “What? We want to keep working!”

 

Johnson was pleasantly surprised, “Oh—really?”

 

“Nah man, I’m out of here!” He giggled and walked out of there.

 

Everybody knew something was up because Johnson usually made everyone work until the work was done. He sat on the curb next to a pretty blonde girl named Jessica. He put his hand next to her ear and whispered, “Hey, wanna get out of here?”

She smiled, then nodded. So they got up and walked away, and everybody else quickly realized what was going down.

 

As Johnson and Jessica walked down the street, they passed Tiffany’s and ogled the windows full of jewelry. After talking for a while, Jessica asked, “Okay, so, my friends—and pretty much everyone else at school have wondered this ever since you started; what is your first name.”

 

“Only the very few rare get to know that piece of information.”

 

She pretended to be offended, “And I’m not part of that few rare?”

 

“Well, not yet you aren’t.”

 

“Some kids said they found your name in the school directory. They say your name is Bob.”

 

Johnson didn’t even flinch at the statement, “Yeah I’ve heard that rumor. You know what the only problem with that is?”

 

“What?”

 

He laughed, “I crossed my name out on every directory.”

 

She died, “No way!”

 

They looked up and squinted their eyes and peered at the towering Empire State Building. Johnson asked, “Want to go up?”

She nodded.

 

They ran inside and squeezed into the elevator with what felt like one hundred obese men. After a suffocating two minutes, the elevator doors opened, and they sprung out into the blindingly bright abyss. “Look at the view, Johnson! Oh my gosh, it’s so pretty!”

 

“It never gets old.”

 

They walked to one of the viewers and waited for a small bald Indian man to finish. Johnson looked condescending at Jessica and then tapped the man on the shoulder. “Excuse me, sir, could we have a turn.” The man turned around with a big smile and said in hardly understandable English, “Well, of course, little boy.” He walked away. Johnson led Jessica to the viewer and whispered, “Tell me what you see.”

 

“I see a bridge. I see a ferry. Oh, and there’s lady liberty. Is the sun setting already?” She kept looking around, but everyone else stood still. The sky turned bright yellow, and it was painted orange within seconds. The bald Indian man whispered, “God help us all.” The hundreds of distressed faces on top of the landmark reflected neon red. Jessica said gayly, “And I see a—I see a—“ She screamed, and they turned to ashes.

 

 

Chapter 2

 

“It’s been two mournful days since the tragic loss of countless lives when the nuclear missile completely destroyed New York City, Manhattan, and surrounding areas. The government is on top of this, and word is being spread that it was, in fact, the Russians who fired the missile. Recent footage adds to this theory.” The newscaster signaled toward the screen behind him, “this footage was taken by one of our secret sources, and as you can see there, that is a missile taking off. Most importantly though, it is the exact size of most nuclear missiles.” He walked to the opposite side of the screen, “and this footage here is of the missile hitting New York City. I warn you this footage may be graphic for some viewers.” A slow motion video of the missile played, “and if you zoom up here, you can see it plainly. This is the same missile that was shown in earlier footage. Evidence leads to the Russians.” The newscaster walked toward the camera, stopped, and clasped his fingers, “thank you, ladies and gentlemen. This has been a mournful hour with Jason Carson. Next up is Jimmie Weinstein.”

 

There was darkness. Then there was a set with a stage, desk, and a couple chairs left of it. Behind the desk was a neon sign which lit and read The Super Late Night Show with Jimmie Weinstein. The audience erupted in applause as Jimmie walked out. He smiled and waved to the audience. And right before walking to his desk, he blew a kiss to some elderly ladies sitting in the seventh row. He got to his desk and caught his breath, “Thank you, thank you, ladies and gentlemen! Man, it feels fantastic to be back. If you didn’t know, me and my wife and my two beautiful daughters have been on vacation for the past two weeks. We got to go to Hawaii, and the water is just beautiful. My wife loved it. It really feels good to be back, though. So without further or do let’s get straight into business.” He peered down at a piece of paper. “First up, ladies and gentlemen, we have an unfamiliar face but a face that will soon be familiar to everyone in the world. Please welcome to the stage, Angus Anderson!” The curtains opened and presented Angus Anderson, a muscular (but not too muscular) man with thick long luscious brown hair and a clean-shaven smile with nearly perfectly white teeth. He had the jaw of a shark and the tale of one too. He was born in Kentucky and wrangled 17 runaway ox simultaneously at the age of seventeen. He walked down the aisle, and by the time he reached the stage, the elderly ladies in the seventh row had already passed out. When Angus sat down, the ground seemed to quake. Jimmie said, “Now if what I’m reading here is correct, this is your first time ever being on a talk show.” He turned to the crowd, “Let’s give him a warm welcome and hope he stays!” Everybody clapped and laughed.

Jimmie, slightly more serious this time, said, “So, America is dying to know who you are and what you are going to do. What’s the story?”

 

He said nervously in a fittingly deep voice, “Well, my name is Angus Anderson and I’m thirty two. I grew up in Kentucky so I’m really patriotic and I like horses.” The audience laughed. “And I joined the CIA when I was twenty-two and that’s definitely classified so keep it on the down low guys. But I think we all know the reason I am here today. The good Lord has a blessing upon America and those Ruskies want to take it away!” The crowd booed, “two nights ago, when I heard the news, I was horrified. Later the United States Government contacted me and asked me to infiltrate Russia, find Putin, and bring him to justice. I feel honored that they find me the most qualified man to do this. And America I have one message for you; ‘Putin, you will die!’”

The crowd applauded, and Jimmie read off a paper, “He’s fierce, he’s a family man, he’s America’s revenge; give it up for Angus Anderson!”

 

 

Chapter 3

 

Inside a military base on the coast of California, two hundred navy SEALs and a couple commanders patiently waited. The helicopter approached, and deep bass seemed to vibrate the earth. Angus Anderson stood inside the helicopter door, wielding a rusty machete, brown hair waving in the wind. As the helicopter landed, the two hundred men saluted and turned opposite him. Angus grabbed his bag from under the seat and jumped out of the aircraft. He placed the machete in his backpack as he walked forward, two hundred men surrounding him. They walked him to a large building that looked more like a giant concrete block with a door in the center. He walked in and was greeted by commander Charleston. “Follow me.” He said, and so Angus followed. As they walked, Charleston filled him in, “Through our insider sources, we have reason to believe Putin is in a hidden bunker inside of Mount Elbrus. Luckily we got the coordinates, and we will be dropping you there. You will skydive down right atop the base with the help of this device.” He handed him a small tablet, and they reached the door. They entered the equipment room filled with machine guns, grenades, and many curious gadgets. The commander walked out of the door and left him alone. Angus put down his bag, grabbed a black vest, and pulled it over his vast chest. He picked out seven grenades and two machine guns which he carefully placed on his back. After grabbing a few gadgets, he finally put the machete on his left side. He walked out the door and was met with camera flashes and a harmony of questions. None of which he was legally allowed to answer.

 

Later that evening, he met with his wife one last time before the mission. They were standing alone in the Hall of Fallen Heroes. Angus ferociously kissed his wife for a couple seconds, and she stepped back and said, “Angus, there’s something you need to know.”

 

“Tell me, dear.”

 

“Hon’ I’m pregnant.”

 

He fell to his knees in tears and put his ear next to her stomach.

 

“It’s probably a little too early to hear anything.” She said as she pulled him up.

 

“I can’t believe it. This is wonderful.”

 

“It is, but—well, come on hon’ don’t go on this mission it’s nothin’ but dangerous.”

 

“Jasper, do you want this baby to have a future? Do you want him to live in a free America?”

 

“You know I do. But I also want him to have a daddy.”

 

“This is what I was made for my dear. This is what God has called me to do. I dare not go against His will.”

 

“Don’t you think He wants you to be in this child’s life?”

 

“I’ve been called to even greater things honey. The entire country is counting on me!”

 

She grabbed his shoulders and leaned her forehead against his, “Well, go hon’. Go and kill that bastard—and come home.”

 

That night he walked with no falter in his strut. He commanded the navy SEALs to stand down. He was to walk to the plane alone. The wind blew harder that night than it had anywhere all year. And everyone struggled to stay on their feet. But Angus continued forward, and when he finally reached the cargo plane door, he yelled out, “I will see you when I return!” and turned back, but everyone had gone inside. Within a matter of minutes, he was high above the clouds and on his way to the motherland.

 

 

Chapter 4

 

Angus didn’t sleep the entire night. He was too focused on his mission and ensuring he kept his adrenaline high. He heard over the speakers, now coming over Mount Elbrus. Prepare for drop off. He got unbuckled and put on his helmet. He heard a couple of clicking sounds, and the cargo door lowered slowly. The wind filled the plane and nearly swept him away, but he kept near the floor until it was fully opened. Immediately he sprung up, ran, and jumped out of the plane. As he fell, he watched the sun rising on the horizon. He could not see any sign of a base on the mountain, so he checked his arm device to see if he was on the right track. He leaned a little to the left and was headed straight for it. He released the parachute and quickly descended. He landed perfectly and swiftly put away his parachute. He looked around himself; he was about halfway up the mountain, so he could see a small city in the distance. Otherwise, it was utterly desolate. He was startled when he heard the sound of an engine. He looked up and saw an armored Jeep driving on some sort of road. He crawled up the side of the mountain and found it. He saw the entrance. The armed soldiers checked the Jeep and then opened the doors. He looked inside; it had a dark metal interior with flashing yellow lights on the walls. He heard another car coming, so he ducked down. And when it came close enough, he rolled onto the road right underneath it and grabbed its underside. The guns on his back scraped against the road. He lifted himself up to avoid the noise, causing excruciating muscle pain. The soldiers approached the vehicle and spoke to the driver. They cleared them, and they went inside. 

 

They parked, got out, and walked inside another room. Angus was alone. He dropped down, rolled out, and got up. He approached the door and slightly opened it to watch. Then another Jeep came. His hand went to his back, and he whipped out his machine gun. He fired and shot the driver and passenger. A soldier had already gotten to the minigun on top of the car and started raining bullets. Angus jumped behind a vehicle just in time. He waited a couple more seconds, aimed and shot the soldier. The door next to him flung open, and the Russian soldiers looked out in chaotic confusion. They looked down and saw Angus, but he had already emptied a magazine. He pushed the men over and ran inside the room. That is when he saw him. Putin was surrounded by guards who were transporting him to the bunker. As Angus chased after them, some broke off to block his path. They stalled him for a couple seconds while Putin was being placed in the bunker. Angus shot the guards and ran toward the closing bunker door. He squeezed in just in time. 

 

Angus dropped his machine guns and said, “Hey, buddy.”

Putin screamed at him in Russian and slowly walked backward. “Sorry! Can’t understand ya.” Angus pulled out the rusty machete from his side. Putin hit a wall, and Angus jumped up into the air and swung his machete. It hit Putin’s leg, and he bawled in torment. And then he swung it up in the air, and he swung it back on down, and it cut off Putin’s nose. 

He swung it up and swung it down, and the blade went right into his neck. 

He swung it on up and swung it back down, and it went right between his eyes.

Angus backed away, drenched in blood. He saw through the windows the disturbed faces of the comrades. The bunker doors opened, and soldiers ran at him with their knives, and in Angus’ final breaths, he screamed, “Freedom!”

 

The End