by TW Powell
Patty couldn’t believe that her husband was just going to cut and run, “Tom, this Ranch is our home. We’re prepared.”
“It will be our home once again, just not tomorrow. We are not prepared for what’s coming.
But there’s another consideration. I don’t want to take any action in this valley that could possibly screw up other operations. Our forces must be available for those other operations.”
By morning, Stonewall Ranch was deserted.
War Council
Midmorning, Thomas had just laid down to catch a few winks after packing up and moving the previous evening. No sooner had his head hit the pillow, the Kingston station received a message from Slick.
“Slick to Cowboy. Meet at noon at church house. Bring the choir. Formal attire.”
Slick wanted to meet at midnight at the National Cafe in Austin. He wanted to see both Junior and Tom. Tom thought it was about time for Delvin to meet Vet. This was no emergency.
“Cowboy to Slick. Can’t make it. Sorry.”
The meeting was confirmed.
Thomas, Bobby Ray, and Vet slept until 3 p.m. Then they met with Junior, Pastor Williams, Juan Hernandez, and Dawg at the Saloon.
“You all know we had to evacuate Stonewall Ranch last night in a hurry…”
Thomas briefed everyone on the forces gathering down at Carver’s.
Juan always took the offensive, Thomas appreciated that about the man. Any man who has successfully commanded an M1A1 Abrams tank must be aggressive.
Juan was also not afraid to speak his mind, “Cowboy Tom, I say we hit those bastards hard and give them a good bloody nose.”
“I would normally agree. I would hit them, then retreat and draw them out into a prepared killing ground and be done with it. We certainly don’t want to get tied down here in a battle of attrition. They have the numbers and the firepower on their side.
“I haven’t yet told you men that a major Resistance operation may soon be underway. Junior, Vet, and I are heading to Austin at sundown. We’ll be back by noon tomorrow latest. We’ll know much more then. Until then, Tommy and Adam have a new toy. They will be patrolling NV 376 from dawn till dusk. They will be concentrating on our southern flank.
“Bobby Ray, you hang with the boys and learn how to operate Puma. Tommy is in charge and remember, Puma is not a toy.
“Juan, make sure the Gillman Springs lookouts are on duty round the clock.
“Dawg, we have some new arrivals, the Mormons from Reno and the few ranchers that have filtered into town. Let’s bring them up to speed on firearms.
“Pastor, the entire Medical Team must be carrying. Doctor J is in control of all things medical, but you are in control of everything else regarding that Team. Everyone on the Team needs to know how to shoot and ride.
“Reform your three platoons with Abrams in the center, The Skipper on the north, and Dawg on the south. One BAR to the north, the other to the south. The Ma Deuce is with you Juan, in the center.
“After losing that recon element. I think they will move slowly and carefully up the valley. They won’t be up here for several days but be ready. No matter if they come from the north or south. Stop them at the roadblocks, then Juan will hit ‘em in the flank with Ma Deuce.
“If you can’t hold, make a fighting retreat up Kingston Canyon neutralizing as many of the enemy as possible.”
The Culling
The Keeper’s fears were allayed. Even after 15 years, Jo’s Super Huey was ready to rumble. Jo and The Keeper made Paw Paw in just under 90 minutes. Attention to detail was Jo’s trademark. When she told the Colonel that she needed to cull Gideon’s 300 down to only 5, you can bet your sweet ass that the culling was completed long ago.
The enforcer of Jo’s team was Miriam Schecter. Going forward we’ll just refer to Miriam as “Butcher”, the nickname coined by Jo. Butcher was one of Mossad’s top assassins. Her expertise was killing. She was arguably a better sniper than Adam Jackson. Her knowledge of human anatomy was right up there with Doctor J. She knew bioweapons better than Ho Pham. Her knowledge of martial arts put CSS agent James Wu to shame. She could even handle Vet’s bullwhip and machete.
Butcher was out of country when Israel was attacked in 2030. For eight years thereafter, Butcher methodically tracked down and eliminated many of those who plotted that surprise attack. Jo met Butcher in 2038 while Butcher was tracking targets in the Peoples’ City metro area.
Moshe Mendel was a member of Shayetet 13, the Israeli Navy’s equivalent of a US Navy Seal. Jo’s nickname for Moshe was “Flipper” and Moshe loved that name. Flipper was onboard an Israeli submarine in the Persian Gulf on Yom Kippur 2030. His team is rumored to have infiltrated a major Iranian nuclear weapons facility in the days immediately following the 2030 Yom Kippur debacle and initiated a series of chain reactions that leveled an entire Iranian city and irradiated most of the surrounding province.
When civil unrest spiked in 2020, mayors of many major US cities were either incompetent, corrupt, or complicit. The New York City death spiral stands at the top of most historians’ lists of urban disasters. The endless Covid lockdowns, with questionable scientific basis, and pandering to domestic extremist groups, fueled a flight from the ranks of New York’s Finest, NYPD. Without the police, an unarmed society quickly disintegrated.
Detective Nathan Katz was one of NYPD’s rising young stars. Nathan decided to call it a day after seeing several of his comrades criminally charged for just doing their jobs. He turned in his shield but did not turn his back on public service.
For several decades, a civilian public service and safety organization had patrolled the neighborhoods and subways of The City. The Archangels were mostly young people, although some older folks volunteered their time. The Angels looked like New York, Blacks, Italians, Asians, Jews, Puerto Ricans, you name it. It was a true rainbow coalition.
If there was a public service task to be done, the Angels were there. They organized neighborhood block watches, delivered food to the elderly, took part in neighborhood restoration and beautification campaigns, and served as extra eyes and ears for the NYPD. Many drug dealers, pimps, human traffickers, loan sharks, and just plain old street thugs were arrested courtesy of the Angels. The only problem was, the feckless prosecutors, politicians, and judges released all that trash from jail within hours of their arrest, with no bail required.
When The Collective took control, the Archangels were labelled a domestic terrorist group and they promptly went underground. After the 2030 Pogrom, they changed their name to “Avenging Angels”. The Angels established the underground railroad that spirited Jews out of the East Coast cities and down the Appalachians to the relatively safety of the West Virginia wilderness.
Detective Katz went underground along with the Angels. He used his knowledge of New York’s underworld to help save scores of Jews, Christians, and other political pariahs from The Collective. He also tracked down and identified many of The Collective’s obscure villains, targeting them for Butcher. “Krazy Katz” was Jo’s one-man FBI.
Early on, Israel identified the Apache attack helicopter as a potent weapons platform for desert operations against a numerically superior hostile armored force. The Apache’s Hellfire missiles, that Thomas Jackson so justifiably feared, were potent tank killers but could also be fitted with warheads well suited for softer targets. The Apache’s 30mm chain gun fired those dense Depleted Uranium rounds that could rip up anything short of a main battle tank. The Israelis always tinkered with any weapons system, fine tuning it for their particular brand of warfare. Apache driver Daniel Falk was familiar those modifications.
The Israeli Air Force, IAF, operated upwards of 50 Apaches. Daniel was an Apache pilot in the IAF’s Hornet Squadron. On Yom Kippur 2030, the Apaches were among the first IAF assets to scramble. The Apaches dispersed to prepositioned forward operating bases scattered about the Negev Desert. During the following ground war, the Apaches exacted a horrendous toll upon Arab mechanized groun
d forces, but the Apaches paid a price. The proliferation of Russian made man portable anti-aircraft missiles and very capable Russian mechanized SAM batteries slowly brought the Apaches down.
While returning from a mission in Sinai, Dan’s Apache was hit by 30mm autocannon fire from a Russian mechanized Pantsir-S1 anti-aircraft missile launch system. He made a hard landing in the rough country just west of Hebron. His Apache would need major repairs before it could ever fly again. To prevent his chopper from falling into enemy hands, he blew it to hell with a grenade and a Hellfire missile high explosive warhead, combined with some aviation fuel.
Daniel made his way on foot to the Bethlehem heliport, about 20 miles northeast of the crash site. There he caught one of the last choppers evacuating Israeli survivors to the Greek Zone on Cyprus. From Cyprus, he made his way to Athens where he hopped a freighter headed to Miami.
Apache spent several years in Miami where the large South Florida Jewish population had allied with the Cuban Americans. Daniel taught the South Florida Resistance how to fly fixed and rotary winged aircraft. He also advised them on the strengths and weaknesses of The Collective’s air assets and strategies for defeating those assets.
In 2037 the Resistance ordered Daniel to move north to West Virginia to begin training Resistance air and air defense units around DC. That’s when Daniel met Jo. Since then, “Apache” had copiloted with Jo on several missions, but none was as monumental as this upcoming mission.
When Flipper and his team nuked that Iranian atomic facility, the brains behind all the fireworks was Saul Greenberg. Saul was the oldest member of Jo’s team. Saul’s expertise was making things go boom. This talent earned Saul the nickname “Blaster”.
Whenever HEU is placed in storage, care must be taken not to concentrate large quantities in a confined area. Just a little over 100 lbs. of HEU formed into a solid sphere can go supercritical. In other words, an ever-accelerating fission reaction can self-initiate resulting in a nuclear explosion. HEU is required for such a cataclysmic event.
Blaster destroyed the Iranian nuclear facility using Iran’s own stock of HEU, carefully arranged, then violently compressed. Jo was planning on doing the same thing, to a lesser degree, at the Depository. She was planning on turning Fort Knox into Kentucky’s Chernobyl, but first, she had to grab The Charters.
Jo gave everyone she met a nickname. To most, this habit just seemed to be another facet of Jo’s bizarre behavior. In reality, Jo used this clever mnemonic device to keep a myriad of Resistance contacts neatly organized in her mind.
Growing up in The Bluegrass, little Jo spent many a cold winter’s evening snuggled up with Daddy Spud on the couch, watching the University of Kentucky Wildcats play basketball on TV. Spud told little Jo countless tales recounting how the Wildcats got robbed of this, or that, title by poor officiating, or won some other championship on a last-second hail Mary shot. One of Spud’s favorite Kentucky teams was the 1947-1948 National Champion Wildcats, coached by the legendary Adolph Rupp. It is no wonder that Jo nicknamed her crew “The Fabulous Five” and she fancied herself their Adolph Rupp.
Party House
It was midnight and the streets of Austin were deserted. As Tom, Junior, and Vet made their way along the backstreets of town, they checked out the parking lot at the Pony Express Motel. It was empty. No sign of Peoples’ Militia. The back lot of the National Cafe was not so empty. It was impossible to miss Delvin’s green box truck.
“Well, I see Captain Smith is here, but that pickup truck doesn’t look familiar.” Tom was referring to a sand-colored full-sized pickup parked right next to the box truck.
The trio tied their horses out back then checked out the pickup. The truck was somewhat unusual, new tires, no dents or dings, and perfectly clean. Two large CNG tanks took up at least half of the truck bed.
“Tom, this puppy must have a range of close to a thousand miles.”
“Junior, I’d say that’s a good guess.”
Vet noted the truck’s condition, “This looks like something from the real world.”
As they approached Miss Stormy’s back door, Tom cautioned his friends, “Best we keep one hand on our sidearms until we know what’s going on with the pickup.”
Tom knocked on the back door. Vince opened the door.
“Vince, I thought you’d be out at the bar.” Tom was surprised Miss Stormy didn’t answer the door.
“You men follow me up the backstairs, bar’s closed.”
Vince led them to a large, ornate parlor on the second floor. For as long as he could remember, Tom Jackson had heard gossip that, as recently as the 1990s, the National Cafe served up a little bit more than just good food and drink. After all, this was Nevada.
Junior joked, “What is this Vince? A bordello?”
Vince replied with a straight face, “Once was, could be again.”
The two men seated on a velvet couch in the far corner of the room rose to their feet, “Sempre Fi!”
Three “Oorahs” were accompanied by Vet’s “Hooah!”
“Tom, I thought this was going to be a Jarhead only convention, who in the hell is this Army puke?”
Thomas was about to break up laughing, “Captain Delvin Smith, this here is that fucking voodoo demon that’s been slicing and dicing the Reno Collective.”
“Excuse me Mr. Demon, didn’t recognize you without your cloak and bullwhip. I’m Captain Delvin Smith, United States Marines and my friend here is Colonel Porter Young, Deseret National Guard. Back in the real world, Porter was a Marine Captain.”
Porter interjected, “Still am a Marine, just moonlighting with the National Guard until we dispense with The Collective.”
“Pleasure to meet you Colonel Young, I’m Sergeant Thomas Jackson and this big guy is Sergeant Darius Johnson. When amongst mortals, Mr. Demon here is known as Sergeant John Nicolescu, United States Army. I take it you’ve already met the proprietor of this establishment?”
“Yes, Vince and I met earlier. Sergeant Johnson, might you also be known as Rambro?”
“Yes sir, Colonel. That’s what The Collective calls me.”
“So, Mr. Demon, Captain Smith tells me you and Mr. Rambro blew up Top Gun.”
“We destroyed what we could.”
“And now, Sergeant Jackson is saying that you broke up that lynch mob over in Reno and saved a dozen Mormons?”
“Yes, someone had to do it.”
After a few minutes of shooting the breeze, Delvin called the meeting to order, “Enough with the pleasantries.”
While Delvin was rehashing Operation Daisy, Miss Stormy brought up some drinks, a red pop for Junior and iced tea for everyone else. Along with the drinks, Stormy had a platter of club sandwiches.
As they paused to eat a sandwich, Tom retrieved the laptop from his backpack. He plugged in the thumb drive, then they all gathered round as Tom reviewed Puma’s recon footage of Carver’s, Round Mountain, and the incident at the ruins.
Delvin was concerned when Junior mentioned that Gabby had been shot, “Tom, is Gabby going to make it?”
“Yes sir. Mr. Demon here brought us back a top-notch trauma surgeon. He goes by the nickname Doctor J.”
Delvin’s attention was fixed to the screen as Tom replayed the action at the ruins on Park Canyon Road, “Is that Nurse Beth I see capping off that Militiaman and tending to Gabby?”
“Yep, that bastard was going to shoot Yasmin Pham. Beth blew his shit away, then plugged Gabby’s wounds with some clay. Doctor J says she saved Gabby’s life.”
Delvin was clearly impressed with Beth’s performance, “We are certainly building a good medical team.”
“There’s more good news. Sergeant Nicolescu also brought us Ben Chapiro.”
“OK Tom, who or what is Ben Chapiro?”
“Ben is a PhD chemical engineer. He worked over at UNR. His area of research was separation and refinement of metals from their native ore. He has some laboratory experience with rare earth metals, but not much industrial e
xperience. But we do have Bobby Lee Skipper and Big Sid. They know the nuts and bolts of plant processes. It sure wouldn’t hurt to have a good chemical engineer on the team, but we’ve got a pretty good nucleus right now.”
Porter offered further assistance, “Tom, with all the copper operations over in Deseret, we’re bound to be able to come up with some good process people. When I get back to Ely, we’ll put out an all-points bulletin for such expertise.”
Tom continued, “That’s great. Now for the bad news. There ain’t no way a sizeable force can exit the south end of Big Smoky Valley, given the enemy forces now assembled in Carver’s. My first inclination was to launch a preemptive strike against that force, but I didn’t want to stir things up with Operation Daisy just getting started. On the other hand, if we do send a force south, we will deplete our forces in Kingston. I don’t even know if we can hold Kingston using all our current strength.”
Delvin was concerned for both the Jackson’s ranch and his Mom’s resting place, “What about the Ranch?”
“We evacuated the Ranch last night.”
“Tom, will Mom be OK?
“Don’t you worry about that. Those graves are so dispersed and disguised, those bastards would have to bring in one of Bobby Lee’s electric shovels to find Mom’s spot.
“But you see our dilemma, that force in Carver’s is a dagger pointed at our heart. If we send a force around it, that dagger can cut us off, and we must recon Indian Springs, Nellis, and Mountain Pass.”
Delvin had the recon covered, “Porter, can you spare another toy plane?”
“How soon do you need it?”
“ASAP.”
“It will be here tomorrow evening.”
“OK, we’ll have two two-man teams, each with a Puma. I’ve arranged to take the box truck down US 95 past Indian Springs, through North Las Vegas, then over I-15 to Mountain Pass and on down to LA. I’ll drop Team #1 at Indian Springs. I’ll drop Team #2 at Mountain Pass. Team #1 will recon Indian Springs then hike down to North Las Vegas and recon Nellis. I will drop Team #2 at Mountain Pass. Team #2 will have a couple of days to recon Mountain Pass. Three days later, on my return, I’ll pick up Team #2 near Mountain Pass and Team #1 near Nellis.