Holes: A Short Story

“I can’t see nothin, boss! The smoke grenades are scary!”

“I don’t care! Just keep shooting!”

“I’m tired, boss!”

“Just keep shooting!”

“I’m-”

“JUST SHOOT, GOSH DARNIT SOLDIER! Do not speak again unless you gotta hole on your body you weren’t born with!”

“I’m thirsty!”

“What did I just say? No hole, no compl-”

“I got an ear piercing-”

“OK, then a hole that you didn’t voluntarily get!”

“I have a few scratches…”

“SHUT IT! UNLESS YOU HAVE A BULLET IN YOU, BE QUIET!”

“So if I shoot myself, I can talk?”

“No.”

“But you said-”

“That would be voluntary, wouldn’t it? I said voluntary holes don’t count.”

“But you also said ‘unless you have a bullet in you...’”

“Well, you know what?”

“What?”

“You can talk now.”

“Yay! Why?”

The one man disagreeing

The older mans eyes were blank, for he was blind, had they been usable, they would have normally sparkled with intelligence, but in this instance, they would have been fearful.

“The next World War is going to start. Why does he want that?” asked man number one.

“To weaken the world so he can claim it for himself.”

“But surely he must know of the destruction it would cause…?”

“Quinton cares not about what happens to the people he rules. He’ll kill them all, if he has to. He has this absurd thought that world domination, a New World Order, is the only way to achieve his goal of a global Satanist church...and supreme power, which it appears to be.”

“And our part is…?”

“Make sure Operation Baby Cradle get’s off the ground smoothly.”

Of course, the first man knew all this, and his companion was aware of that. But it was something to talk about in these times of fear.

“The target is in sight!” The first man shouted. A large US Navy ship dotted the horizon. It’s name was the USS Eagle. Over thirty Trident II missiles, each armed with four nuclear warheads per the UN’s nuclear treaty, for full capacity was eight, were stored on the

In front of him sat a computer. The man himself was small, scrawny, and white. He looked like a stereotypical computer genius, with blond hair, wire-rimmed glasses, an almost square head, and pale skin. With two buckteeth, a white collar shirt and plaid shorts, the mans true evil was disguised. All that surrounded him was blackness. The light of the screen illuminated his face. Feverishly, he began typing.

More then thirty miles away from the mans location, two disguised mechanical doors opened, flawing the flat desert ground. A mechanical sound, almost like gears, began, and a gray object arose,with disruptions of white along its length in a pattern, pointing straight up.With a cylindrical body and coned top, it was unmistakably a missile. It was a 44 foot tall-a monster of a thing. Evil radiated from it. Then, a sound was made-quite like that of a rocket launching. Fire spewed out from the bottom of the missile, and it shot off the ground, already moving at hundreds of miles per hour. Though it was meant to be launched from a submarine, with an effective launching system, it was able to be launched from solid ground. Rising thousands of feet into the air, the Trident II missile rose, almost to the edge of the atmosphere. Soon, the rocket lost it main body, dropping it into the ocean. Now, only the MK12 Reentry Vehicle carrying the warheads was left. It