by TW Powell
Dr. Ho asked for permission to speak, “Tom, that man is a world-renowned trauma surgeon. We will have him with us?”
“No bullshit, Ho. He’s up in Kingston right now.
“Speaking of Doctor J, he’s also a Mormon Bishop. We’ve always had some LDS neighbors out here in the valley, but we’re about to see a bunch more of our Mormon friends. I don’t wasn’t anyone getting into any religious altercations. We will also have a Jewish scientist up in Kingston who will be working with us. Same goes for him. Part of what we’re fighting for is their religious liberty. Are we all clear?”
There were a few soft “Yes” replies from around the room.
Sergeant Thomas Johnathan Jackson let out a stern near shout, “I said, are we clear?”
Everyone responded, “Yes, Sergeant!”
Dr. Yen asked a mother’s question, “Sergeant Jackson, what about our daughter? Can Yasmin come with us?”
“That’s a good idea. She needs to be with her parents. We haven’t seen any Peoples’ Militia around here since April. It should be fine.”
“Private Skipper, you will escort the Medical Team to Kingston. You will remain high up on the alluvial fan and avoid enemy contact. You are to consider yourself expendable.”
Bobby Ray whispered to Adam. Tom saw him whisper.
“Private Skipper, by expendable, I mean that you will lay down your life, if necessary, to get the Medical Team safely to Kingston. Does that answer your question?
“Yes, Sergeant.”
“I wouldn’t worry, Bobby Ray. Like I said, we haven’t seen hide, nor hair, from that bunch for two months.
“Carlos, you best go too. You and Gabby need to be together. The Skipper boys could most likely use a good fabricator up there and, if Bobby Ray runs into any trouble, you can back him up.”
Tom then handed Ho, Yen, Nurse Beth, and Gabby each an unloaded 9mm Glock. The first three had never even held a gun, but Gabby had used a gun at least once before. She was a member of the Round Mountain firing squad back in ’27.
Tom looked directly into Gabby’s eyes, “Gabby, where is your venganza? Are you carrying it with you?”
“I will leave it here, Mr. Tom. Leave it for another day.”
Tom then turned to his father, “Dad, tonight, walk these four through handling a 9mm. In the morning, have them cap off a few rounds.”
“Will do.”
“Ho, when you get to Kingston, pick Doctor J’s brains. I know neither you, nor Yen are surgeons. You both need to pick up as much as you can as fast as you can.
“That goes for you too, Beth. And you, Gabby.”
“Sergeant Jackson, will Mr. Smith be in Kingston?”
Tom saw a glimmer in Beth’s eyes that he had seen before whenever she inquired about Slick’s wellbeing.
“No, Nurse Andrews. Captain Smith will not be in Kingston.”
Beth smiled, “Captain Smith?”
Thomas replied, “Yes, I said Captain Smith. You just worry about Nurse Beth. Slick can take care of himself.”
The following day, shortly after Bobby Ray and the Medical Team departed for Kingston, Tom and Tommy walked out into a large dryland pasture close to NV 376. Tom was carrying a radio-controlled airplane, 4.5 feet long, with a wingspan of 9 feet. Tommy was carrying a laptop computer in his left hand and had what appeared to be something akin to an iPad strapped to his chest in a manner that allowed him to open the device to view and manipulate the screen. A stylus was tucked behind his right ear.
“OK Dad, hold her tightly in both hands. The power is on now!” The electric motor was virtually silent, but the prop began spinning like crazy.
“She’s got a lithium-ion battery pack with over 5 hours endurance. There’s visual and IR cameras linked to my control pad and this laptop. All transmissions are encrypted. She also has a laser designator. Above 500 feet, she’s virtually inaudible from the ground. The camera is mounted on a gimbal to help zero in on specific targets.
“OK Dad, face into the wind.
“Now launch her sort of like you’re throwing a javelin. Use your whole body.”
Tom heaved the 23-pound craft into the air, then walked over to stand beside Tommy.
“Dad, you can watch the real-time feed on the laptop.”
“She’s got a range of 60 klicks, but we lack the capability to track her at that range. We’ll probably be limited to line of sight. I’m thinking that we’ll locate some high ground near our objective and operate from there. We can use binoculars to extend our visual tracking ability.”
“How do we recharge her? Solar?”
“I thought about that. Solar is always the sexy answer. What happens if we’re operating at night? Or if it’s cloudy? Or down south where its dusty? Besides, solar ain’t fast.”
“So, what do you have in mind?”
“Let’s see if Bobby Lee can rig up a simple hand crank generator, we can also use a power pack as an emergency backup.”
Tom liked the idea and he especially liked Tommy’s suggested utilization of The Skippers’ talents.
“Good job son. How ‘bout taking her a few klicks north along NV 95 and see if we can catch a glimpse of The Skipper and his entourage on their way to Kingston?”
“No problem.” Tommy was operating Puma like a real-life video game.
“Dad, I’ll need to use your binoculars, she’s going out of sight. We could sure use Ol’ Eagle Eye right now.”
Tom was watching the video feed from Puma on the laptop, “Tommy, gimbal Puma’s eyes a little higher up on the fan.”
“Zoom in on that cloud of dust. Something is moving up Park Canyon Road.”
Puma had just caught sight of a Humvee moving up Park Canyon Road, toward the mountains.
“Son, have Puma pan along the top of the fan, north to south.”
Tommy began maneuvering Puma, shifting her eyes all along the top of the fan.
“Sweet Jesus! The Skipper and his bunch are approaching Park Canyon Road. Son keep Puma at least 500 feet off the deck. Have her loiter right where Park Canyon Road enters the mountains, right at the top of the fan.”
Thomas was now watching in real time as Bobby Ray and a Humvee full of Peoples’ Militia were on course for a bloody train wreck in Park Canyon.
Thomas knew this country, but Bobby Ray did not, “Tommy, there should be some ruins right below Puma.”
“There they are. Loiter over that spot. I just pray Bobby Ray sees the ruins and takes up a defensive position.”
Tom’s prayers were answered. Bobby Ray spotted both the inbound Humvee and the ruins.
Bobby Ray began barking out commands, “Nurse Beth, take the horses further up the canyon. Tie ‘em under some cottonwoods. Keep your 9mm ready. If things go south, haul ass back to the Ranch.”
“Doc Ho, sir, grab Yasmin and make a beeline over to those ruins. Find an interior corner and tell Yasmin to hunker down and not leave that spot.”
Beth remained mounted while the others dismounted and ran toward the concrete block ruins. As Beth and the horses disappeared up the canyon and into some brush, the rest of Bobby Ray’s bunch hopped over the crumbling concrete block walls into what was once a ranch house, or maybe a mine office.
Thomas was rooting for Bobby Ray as he watched the action unfold on the laptop. At this point, rooting was all he could do.
Carlos and Bobby Ray were armed with Chinese AK-47s captured from the Peoples’ Militia back in April. Bobby Ray also had a grenade hanging from his belt.
“Doc Ho and Doctor Yen take the left. Don’t waste your ammo unless you get a good close shot. Gabby, you cover our right. Carlos and I will take the center. If these boys are professionals, they will lay down suppressive fire while 1 or 2 of ‘em try and flank us. You all do some mighty hard praying that they didn’t see us, and maybe they’ll just pass us by.”
That prayer was not answered, at least not per Bobby Ray’s request. The Hummer stopped about 50 yards from the ruins. The Militia Commander had not
iced some movement as Bobby Ray’s bunch took up their defensive positions.
Tom could see the confrontation building through Puma’s real-time transmissions, “Oh shit Tommy, four Peoples’ Militia are piling out of the Hummer, about 50 yards to Bobby Ray’s front. At least our boy has got his people ready.”
Nurse Beth rode another 100 yards further up the canyon, then tied the horses under some cottonwoods. She took her beads from her pocket and began reciting the Rosary.
Beth paused, looked toward heaven and softly pleaded, “Dear Lord, I’ve betrayed my best friend. I’ve left my home to come to this forsaken land. I’ve injected my fellow man with contagious death. Enough already. I’ve had enough. Please no more.”
Just then, gun fire erupted from the ruins. Beth’s prayer was not answered either, at least not per Beth’s request. Beth dropped her Rosary beads and pulled out her Glock. Then she slowly worked her way unseen through the scrub and down toward the ruins.
Bobby Ray’s mind was like a sponge. In a few short weeks he had absorbed most everything Tom and Junior had thrown his way. The battle began to unfold just as Bobby Ray had predicted. He and Carlos laid down murderous fire upon the Peoples’ Militia to their front.
Bobby Ray yelled out to his mates, “Watch our flanks. Eventually these boys will try and flank us.”
Yen, Ho, and Gabby peered out into the scrub as best they could, given the heavy covering fire being laid down by the Peoples’ Militia. A bullet splintered a concrete block near Ho’s face, sending a chunk of that block flying that narrowly missed his left eye. Yen fired her 9mm into the brush several times not knowing that she had, in fact, killed a Militiaman with her first shot.
Gabby fought like an Amazon, shooting and displacing. She saw movement in the brush to her right and fired. She heard a voice cry out, “Shit, I’m hit.” Gabby smiled.
“Tommy, keep Puma’s eyes on the ruins.” Tom continued to helplessly watch and pray.
Beth was now only a few yards from the rear of the ruins. She saw movement to her right. A Militiaman was limping around the back of the ruins. It appeared that he had been wounded in his right leg. The wounded man stopped, peered into the ruins, and fired his AK-47. A single shot struck Gabby in her back and passed on through her abdomen, just a little above her belt buckle.
Little Yasmin was still cowering in that inside rear corner of the ruins. She jumped up and screamed when Gabby was shot in the back.
The wounded Militiaman wheeled his weapon around, ready to silence Yasmin. Beth was now less than 30 feet from her enemy. Three shots rang out. All three shots hit their target, one in the neck, the other two in the head. The Militiaman died instantly. Beth walked toward the dead man and fired another shot at point blank range into his head.
Bobby Ray pulled the pin from his grenade and pitched a perfect “strike”. The grenade’s blast tossed the third Militiaman head over heels into the air, perforating his body with shrapnel.
Carlos saw Gabby lying on the ground amid a puddle of blood and just lost it. He jumped out of his firing position and charged the last Militiaman just like Bobby Ray, Model 1950, charged the Chinese infiltrators at Chosin.
Seeing that he was now all alone, the last Militiaman stood, dropped his weapon, and raised his hands. Mindful of a murdered son, a bombed home, a dying wife, and a raped country, Carlos proceeded to savagely beat the surrendering Member to death with the butt end of his assault rifle. It was not a pretty sight and Tom saw it all through Puma’s eyes.
“Tommy, continue monitoring the situation, but don’t put Puma at risk. I’ve got to run back to the house and alert Kingston that they’ve got incoming wounded. Gabby’s been shot!”
Nurse Beth
Carlos continued beating the dead body until Bobby Ray yelled out, “He’s dead Carlos! Help me, Gabby’s been wounded.”
Nurse Beth was still standing over the lifeless body of her enemy, smoking gun in hand. He couldn’t have been much older than Bobby Ray. Beth dropped her gun and sank to her knees weeping.
Both Doctors Pham ran over to Gabby. She was still conscious. Gabby was marshalling all her strength for her fight for life. Her EMT training was her ace in the hole.
“Doc, that bastardo shot me in the belly.”
Ho calmly started his assessment while Yen took Gabby’s pulse.
“Gabby, did the bullet hit your spine.”
“I don’t think so, I can move everything OK.” As Gabby spoke, she was grimacing with pain.”
Ho yelled back at Beth, “Nurse, I need you! Stat!”
Beth snapped out of it, “Yes, Dr. Pham.”
“Go to the horses and get our medical bags.”
Beth ran back up the canyon, praying as she ran, “Dear God, don’t let Gabby die. Please God, enough!”
From the midst of her circumstances Beth had no idea what was really going on. She was a lump of clay being carefully shaped and molded by the Potter’s hands.
Yen continued to check Gabby’s respiration and pulse while applying pressure to the wounds. Ho checked both the entry and exit wounds, “Entry and exit wounds are clean.”
“Gabby, you’re doing great. We know this is painful, but keeping calm is important.”
“I will live Doc Ho. Did you get that bastardo?”
“Yes, my friend, Nurse Beth took care of that.”
Carlos and Bobby Ray pulled the Hummer round back of the ruins and Carlos knelt down and kissed his wife’s hand.
Bobby Ray was now in total command, “Carlos, I need you to drive Gabby up to Kingston. Don’t stop in town. The Aid Station is further up the canyon. You’ll see it.”
“Doc Ho and Doc Yen, which of you is going to take care of Gabby on the way up to Kingston?”
Ho replied, “Neither of us. Before Nurse Beth came to work for me, she was a trauma nurse. I’m an infectious disease specialist. I’m least qualified. My wife is a General Practitioner. She could do the job, but Beth has years of trauma experience. Gabby needs Nurse Beth.”
About that time, Beth returned with the medical bags.
Ho listened with his stethoscope while Yen took Gabby’s blood pressure with a digital cuff. Her heart rate was up to 110. She was not in shock, not just yet. Her blood pressure was beginning to drop. She was losing a lot of blood.
Beth took control of the situation, “Tear off her shirt. We’ve got to stop this bleeding. Do we have any cellophane, or plastic wrap? Any electrical tape, or duct tape?”
Everyone scoured the Humvee. Nothing! Then Beth noticed a gully beside Park Canyon Road. The rushing snowmelt water had exposed a layer of yellowish bentonite clay that, upon hydration, was swelling to many times its original dry volume. Beth ran over to the ditch, raked away the top layer of clay, then reached in with both hands and pulled out two handfuls of moist clay.
Both doctors were stunned as Beth kneaded and packed the clay into Gabby’s wounds.
“Clay has been a homeopathic treatment for ages. Before modern medicine came along, clay was a major ingredient in poultices used as wound dressings. Bentonite clay is used to seal ponds and landfills. It swells when exposed to moisture and seals leaks. I think I’ve got Gabby all plugged up. Now, let’s carefully lay her in the back of this vehicle and get the hell up to Kingston.”
Carlos drove while Beth monitored Gabby, “Carlos, the bleeding is under control. Her blood pressure and other vitals aren’t great but could be much worse. I’ve got her covered up and she’s warm. She’s alert but hurting like hell.”
Beth glanced upward and gave it just one more try. She whispered, “Please Lord, enough!”
Then she saw it lying in the rear floorboard, one of those Peoples’ Newsmagazines. Member California Coordinator was prominently featured on the front page in all her tall, shapely, gorgeous, elegant, splendor and holding hands with the Hero of the Collective, Member Delvin Smith.
Chain of Command
The Keeper had now resided at The Bunker for 15 years. He had walked the entire 11,
000 acres of The Greenbrier grounds and had explored every nook and cranny of The Bunker itself, except the Executive Offices. That section was separated from the rest of The Bunker by its own set of steel blast doors and had its own power supply, air and water filtration, and was encased in a special, dense, barite filled concrete designed to block radiation. The Executive Offices were set back most deeply into the mountain.
This was the operational nerve center of the American Resistance, in constant communication with the National Command Authority, now exiled in Tokyo. The furthest The Keeper had ever penetrated this section, up until today, was the entrance. About 5 years earlier, he had repaired a glitch in the steel blast door’s locking system, but that was as far as he was allowed to go. Today he would go further, but not much further.
Two armed sentries stood on either side of the open blast door. As David approached, a gruff sergeant rose from his desk and pointed some sort of optical device into David’s left eye, then glanced down at the laptop open on his desk.
“It’s a match. One moment please.”
An adjutant appeared and escorted David just a few feet down the corridor, then hung a right into a small conference room. Lieutenant Josephine Parker was sitting all alone at the oval conference table.
“Jesus Christ, Sweet Pea, what in the hell are you doing here?”
“I don’t know why I’m in this room, but I’ve been here at The Bunker ever since you brought me here. How long has it been? 15 years?”
“You sure as hell haven’t got any prettier in those 15 years.”
Jo then pointed at David’s balding scalp, “Getting a little thin up there, aren’t we?”
Before David could comment on his now dormant follicles, a Marine Colonel and a civilian entered the room. Jo stood to attention and saluted.
“You may be seated Lieutenant Parker. You too Mr. Shulman.”
“I’m Colonel Frank Cooper and joining me this morning is Mr. Jones.”