Molly's War

By Johnny Augustine

This is a fast-paced heart-racing story with loads of action from start to finish. Jake O'Nell's sixteen-year-old cousin, Molly, along with her family, find themselves in a mess of trouble far from their Wisconsin Dairy farm while on a visit to their grandfather's ranch on an island nation off the coast of Australia that turns their lives upside down and inside out, with plenty of tears of both joy and sorrow along the way. So travel along with Molly Haze as she finds herself in the middle of Molly's War.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Dec 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781643504308

Book preview

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Chapter One

Hello, world, I hope you can hear me. Lieutenant Kanee thinks this satellite radio can send, but we just can’t receive. It’s a damn good thing this radio took the bullet it did, or else the US Marine Corps would be short one redheaded corporal from Iowa. So again, I hope you can hear me, world. It would be so good to know if someone is listening with all this death around us now. Funny, death isn’t the remote abstract idea I once thought it was. In our family, we’d only lost our grandma. That was six years ago when I was ten. Yeah I know, everyone dies, but it was other people or families or what you see on the news. So. Hello, world. Oops, said that already. Hey, you’ll have to forgive me if I rant a little. I mean what do you expect from a sixteen-year-old girl who’s had to kill four people in the last two days! No, wait, that didn’t come out right! You’ll think I’m a psycho, and I’m not, well, no more or less than anybody else. Okay, how about I just tell you our story up to now from the start? God knows I can’t sleep anyway, so here goes nothing!

My name is Molly Haze, I’m sixteen years old as of three days ago. My dad’s name is Lloyd, my mom is Lucey. I have one older brother, Lloyd Jon, he goes by LJ. He’s twenty-one. I have an older sister named Veronica, but she’ll kill you if you call her anything but Ronnie, and she’s eighteen as of three days ago. Yeah, I had the rotten luck of being born on the same day as my older sister. Anyway, I used to think of it as rotten luck, now I’m proud to have my birthday with hers. We live, or did live, hope to get back there again to live. Not sure how to quite put it for sure, hometown I guess would be the correct term, Llama, Wisconsin USA is the place we came from.

Look it up, Llama, Wisconsin. It’s a little burg right smack in the middle along the good ol’ Wisconsin River, a hundred miles North of our Capital, Madison, or civilization as Ronnie calls it. She can’t wait to go to college there. Me, I can’t stand the place, too many people who are nuts as LJ says. I’m going to go to college at UW Stout like LJ. He’ll be a senior when I’m a freshman.

Just hold on a second, people. Right now I’m whispering into the radio, and I’m trying not to cry, okay? And if I start I might just fall apart, and we can’t have that, can we? I promised you our story, and I’m going to deliver. It’s weird, though. Of all the things I could wish for right now, like having a ham-and-cheese sandwich in our little downtown deli, or I wouldn’t even mind seeing that old a-hole teacher Mr. Hymn. Yeah, Hymn with a y, not i. He teaches math at good old Llama High. You people out there must be cracking up. A girl from a town called Llama and a teacher named Mr. Hymn. Anyway, that’s what my wish would be for, to have a really good laugh again someday.

I know I’m roaming some here, but my head is so full of every little detail of what’s gone on it’s ready to explode. I wonder if this is what insanity is like? It can’t be much worse!

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Chapter Two

Hey, you know the saying war is hell? Right now I think hell would be an improvement. So anyway, this all started a couple months ago, back in Llama. We have a dairy farm, and things were tough. Milk prices down, costs up, but the big worry was with my mom. She just wasn’t herself. LJ, Ronnie, and I knew something was up, but Mom wouldn’t say anything. When we asked, she’d claim she was fine. Us kids were getting a little scared, and Dad was worried too, but he was as tight-lipped as Mom.

Then one day, the last day of school for Ronnie and I, Mom and Dad called us all into the living room for a talk. LJ had been home from college for a week. I thought, crap this wasn’t going to be good. Preparing myself for something really, really bad, then bam! Mom smiles and looks at all of us.

Dad and I have a big surprise, she said. We’ve arranged a special trip for all of us. We’re going to Gramps’s place again to do some wild hog and bird hunting.

That sounds good, LJ said but then asked, but I thought it was too dangerous to go there?

Gramps says things are better now, Mom said.

You see, Gramps as we call him, Mom’s dad, lives on Kanoa Island. It’s a fairly good-sized island about eight hundred miles southwest of Australia. Gramps has a big plantation. Well that’s what the Kanoans call it. To me, it’s more like a big ranch. He raises cattle and mules, but mainly he serves as a guide for wild-hog and bird hunts.

Growing up, we used to go almost every year to visit and hunt, but we haven’t gone now for the last two years, because there’s been some trouble brewing. Most of the island’s population of four-hundred thousand or so are Christian, but some radical Muslims moved there and started causing big trouble for the government and the people. Even though they’re only a small percentage of the population, we heard they were pretty badass like ISIS.

It had been such a quiet beautiful place with only one big city, the Capital Kana, where most of the people lived and worked. They have a huge deep-water harbor. The USA and Australia had a joint air and naval base there during World War II. Its location was crucial then. Dad says now the extremist nuts see it as a place they could use as a base to attack both the USA and Australia from.

Anyway, Mom tells us again that Gramps has assured us it’s safe enough to come, and she has a friend there telling her it’s okay to come also.

Who would that be? Ronnie asked.

No sense asking her, she won’t even tell me, Dad said.

I want it to be a surprise, Mom said.

And that was that.

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Chapter Three

We had so much to get done, but the time flew by. First there was Ronnie’s graduation party, putting up first crop hay, then packing and passports. It was a busy, fun time. But a couple things just didn’t make sense back then; of course now they do as you’ll see.

First we found out we were going to charter a private plane. We’d always used commercial flights before, and this time we were driving cross-country to San Diego and flying out from there to Kanoa. Second, we were taking a lot more ammo this time. I mean, we always brought a lot because it was hard to find ammo for our caliber rifle down there. Gramps insisted that we use good ole .30-06s as he called them. When you hit a pig or deer with them most of the time it was a quick kill, no wounded animals. Turns out it works good on killing people too. Sorry, getting ahead of myself again.

When LJ, Ronnie, or I asked about these things, Mom would say, Gramps needs the ammo. He’s paying for things, so quit asking questions and pack, so we did.

Why worry? LJ said. Let’s just have fun.

And we were. Mom was her old self, running around, double-checking that we had everything and then some. Finally we headed out driving cross-country, stopping when we wanted, where we wanted—it was a blast! We must have put five hundred selfies and pics on Facebook sites. Then we spent a few days around San Diego, sightseeing. It was great. What a place, and SeaWorld is incredible. The best part was our last stop. We got to see our Uncle Harlan’s old Aircraft carrier, the USS Midway; it’s a museum now. It was awesome walking on the flight deck where he used to land his fighter jet. Oh yeah!

Then two—no, three—days ago we took off. God, it all seems like only a dream now, looking out the windows at the sea, joking and laughing, LJ bragging how as usual he would get the biggest wild boar, stuff like that. We sent selfies until we were out of range.

But then Mom got quieter and quieter the closer we got to Kanoa, and then we lost radio contact with the airfield four hours out. Our pilot, an Australian named Davey Nundee, just turned his head so he could talk to us.

No worries, mate, he said. Sometimes these things happen, right?

But in weather like this? Dad asked.

The sky was clear, no wind, as perfect a day as you could get. Davey just shrugged. Doesn’t really matter now does it, mate, he said.

We passed the point of turning back a good six hours ago.

Mom spoke up. Lloyd, honey, relax, let Davey do his job.

Okay, he mumbled.

But we could see he was not very happy, so we all buckled up and just sat real quiet, until finally we landed.

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Chapter Four

As we came taxiing in, Davey yelled to us over his shoulder. This doesn’t look right!

Just as he said that, shots rang out, and bullets started thudding into the plane. Looking out my window I saw a truck charging at us with two men in the back trying to hang on and fire on us at the same time with AK-47s.

Shit me a dingo! Davey yelled. Hang on, I’m going to try and get behind the terminal.

He spun the plane around and gunned it. Matey, you’d better break out those guns you brought, cause we’re gonna need them! he yelled to Dad.

One thing I loved and hated about my dad was that he charged right into things, sometimes not thinking, just boom, straight ahead. This time it was a good thing as he wasted not a word or a single second in breaking out the rifles and ammo.

Davey swung us around the terminal and out of sight, for a few minutes anyway. We found our way blocked by a dozen planes parked every which way. Davey brought us to a stop. Shit! he growled. Let’s get out and see if those bloody bastards come looking for us.

He himself grabbed a pistol from under his seat and opened the hatch. We followed, rifles in hand, loading up, then waited. Mom turned to Dad. Lloyd, we’re not really going to shoot at those men are we? she asked him.

Davey spoke up, before Dad could answer. Listen, Missy, I don’t know about you folks but if those buggers come around that corner and shoot at us again, I bloody well am going to shoot back! Got it?

Dad just shrugged his shoulders and looked at her. What he said, dear!

Mom just rolled her eyes as we heard more gunfire, a lot more, then silence. We waited five minutes or so, and then two Hummers came around the corner, one with a big machine-gun on top, not the truck that had fired on us when we were on the plane.

Hold on, what’s this now? Davey asked as the truck stopped a couple hundred feet from us. A tall black-haired woman dressed in military camo jumped out of the lead vehicle. Three other men got out of the vehicles, dressed just like her, carrying AR-18s. They took up positions watching away from us.

The lady yelled, Don’t shoot, Lucey, it’s me Maria!

Thank God! Mom said, handing her rifle to Dad and running up to the black-haired woman and giving her a big hug. Then walking back to us, arm in arm, talking.

I’ll be damned, Dad said as he stood there with a stunned look on his face.

Davey turned to Dad and gave him a questioning look. What is it, mate, you know that Sheila? he asked Dad.

Dad nodded and said with a smile, I know her. She was my girlfriend for three years in college, twenty-one years ago.

Davey laughed. Now this should be damned interesting, he said as he burst into a hard laugh.

LJ, Ronnie, and I just stood there dumbfounded. I mean what the hell would you say?

Our mom walking toward us, arm in arm with your dad’s ex-girlfriend, and I’ll tell you my mom’s good-looking, no doubt about it; but this Maria was like a knock-out model-starlet type, and she’d dated Dad for three years! No way! That was harder