by TW Powell
Junior couldn’t believe his ears, “Jo, don’t tell me you’re going to let some geek and your own dog push you around.”
Josephine reached into her jumpsuit and pulled out her orders and shoved them in Junior’s face.
“What part of any and all don’t you understand Darius? Right here, it says that I will render any and all assistance to The Keeper and it is up to him to safeguard this cargo. In other words, he calls the shots as far as this cargo is concerned. We are all expendable, you, me, skinny White Skipper, Slick, even ‘ol Max. These orders are signed by the National Command Authority.”
“OK Jo, but would you mind telling me just what in the hell is in those cases?”
“If I told you, I’d have to kill you.” And Jo was not kidding.
Townspeople
It was approaching midnight as a small crowd began to gather out front of the National Café in Austin, Nevada. Many of the townspeople were old timers who just refused to abandon their homes. Others were people who had nowhere else to go. A few were black marketeers. They all shared a visceral hatred of The Collective.
Tom yelled back into the Saloon, “Delvin, we got a crowd gathering out here.”
“Thomas, Vince is down!” Delvin was frantically assessing Vince’s condition.
“Miss Stormy, I’m no doctor, but Vince has got one nasty shoulder wound. Keep pressure on that wound. If we can control the bleeding, he should be OK. Do you have a vehicle?”
“Yes Delvin, Honey, out back in the shed. It should be fully charged. The keys are hanging next to the back door.”
“Tom, get in here!
Delvin ran in the kitchen and grabbed the keys to Vince’s SUV. He then ran back into the Saloon and tossed the keys to Tom.
“Thomas, Vince’s SUV is parked back in the shed. Unplug it and bring it around front.”
Meanwhile, the crowd outside were now kicking, beating, stabbing, and stomping the dead Militiamen. Several townspeople built a bonfire right out in the middle of Main Street. The crowd was growing by the minute. Most of Austin’s 200 residents were now out front of the National Café.
Delvin took over applying pressure to Vince’s wound as Miss Stormy ran to gather sheets, towels, and an old blanket. Within seconds, Tom had pulled around front driving Vince’s SUV.
“Stormy, cover the SUV’s backseat and floorboard really good with sheets and towels. We’ll lay Vince across the backseat, then Tom will drive you and Vince down to Kingston. We’ve got a great surgeon down there. Keep Vince calm, quiet, and warm.”
When the crowd of citizens saw Tom and Delvin carrying Vince out of the Saloon, it was like throwing gasoline onto a smoldering fire. The bodies of the dead Militia were thrown onto the bonfire. Pistols, rifles, and shotguns appeared from out of nowhere. US 50 was quickly barricaded on both ends of town. Then, The Collective’s flag was thrown into the bonfire and the American Flags came out.
After Tom, Vince, and Stormy departed for Kingston. Delvin ducked back though the Saloon and out the backdoor. He couldn’t hang around and risk being identified by such a large crowd. Slick hollered for his men and Porter to follow him back to his box truck.
“Porter, you and Vet need to speak to that crowd. I’ve seen this before. This town is done with The Collective. It’s over. They are now in open revolt.
“Adam, you stay here with your Puma and help Vet.
“Tommy, take the other Puma on down to the Pony Express and pack her up on Miss Daisy, then you mount up and head straight to Kingston. I saw Hank Clemmons out in that mob. Give him these two silver dollars and tell him that we’ll settle up with him later.
“Vet, you need to stay here and help get things sorted out. These people want to fight, but they’re not ready to fight. You get them ready to fight. It’s all up to them now.”
Porter interrupted, “No, it’s not. 100 troopers from Salt Lake Squadron will arrive here in 3 days. Four Hummers will arrive by noon tomorrow. They’ll be packing a Ma Deuce and a couple of .30 caliber Brownings. We’ll throw in some Claymores, a few Type 91 heat-seekers, grenades, some C-4 with detonators, and a couple of Javelins.”
Delvin’s #1 priority was Mountain Pass, “Porter, can we afford to divert those forces from the Mountain Pass operation?”
“Delvin, can we afford to not help these people? The Collective will not allow what happened here tonight to just slide. Austin is now at war.”
Vince
Tom Jackson wasted no time getting Vince down to the Aid Station in Kingston. He turned on the SUV’s emergency flashers and began sounding the horn as he passed the Gilman Springs outpost. Tom cautiously approached the north roadblock lest Vince’s SUV get a plastering from Juan’s Ma Deuce.
The entire Medical Team was awakened and swiftly manned the Aid Station. The odds were also in Vince’s favor, he was O+.
Junior was asleep down in the hangar with Jo, Apache, Bobby Ray, and The Keeper when he heard all the commotion back in town.
“Psst, Jo. Wake up!”
“Junior, what in the hell do you want this hour of the morning?”
“There’s one hell of a commotion coming from town.”
Max lifted his head as Jo and Junior crept out the hangar’s man door, but Max remained on guard next to The Keeper. Junior and Jo could see the emergency flashers on Vince’s SUV off in the distance, parked at the Aid Station. Lights were coming on in town and in the hideouts up Kingston Canyon Road.
“Junior, you’re right, something’s wrong. It’s 1 a.m. and the whole town is awake.”
“Jo, are you packing?”
“Don’t I always?”
“Hell yes. We’ll let Bobby Ray and Apache know what’s going on, then we’ll double-time it to the Aid Station.”
The Aid Station was a good mile’s run from Huey’s hangar. Junior tried his best to keep up. Jo had Colt in hand as she sprinted all the way.
Doctor J and Nurse Beth were already working on Vince when Jo and Junior reached the Aid Station. Miss Stormy was in mask and gown and was at Vince’s side holding his left hand while Doctor J worked on Vince’s right shoulder. Vince was conscious but groggy, Doctor J had given him a local anesthetic and some pain killers. Both Doctors Pham were watching and learning. Doctor J was impassively tutoring Beth, Ho, and Yen almost as if he were at a teaching hospital and they were young interns. Every so often, Doctor J would comfort Stormy.
“Miss Stormy, your husband isn’t in any real trouble. He’s lost some blood and we’re taking care of that. I got the bullet. It didn’t fragment. Now for the bad news. That bullet did some damage to his shoulder. I’m going to fix him up as best I can, but that shoulder will take a while to heal. It will probably never be 100%. I’d say more like 60-70%.
“Mr. Vince, can you hear me?”
“Yes, I can hear you.”
“Do you understand what I just told your lovely lady?”
“Yes, yes.”
“Do you have any questions?”
“No, no questions, but there is one thing.”
“OK Mr. Vince, what can I do for you?”
“Doc, the name is Vince, just Vince, got it?”
“Yes sir, Vince.”
“Close enough.”
Meanwhile, Tom Jackson couldn’t believe his eyes when Junior and Jo showed up at the Aid Station.
“Tom, I believe you may have met Jo over on Okinawa?”
“Junior, I do believe Jo saved my ass from that CVX attack.”
“Didn’t I pluck your sorry ass off that hotel rooftop?”
“Yes Mam, you did.”
“Tom, what’s going on?”
“Junior, Doctor J is in there working on Vince.”
“What happened to Vince?”
“The damned Peoples’ Militia have been muscling Vince and Stormy for the last several days. I don’t know all the details, but it came to blows tonight. Wouldn’t you know that me, Delvin, Porter, Vet, and the boys wound up in the middle of a gunfight. Now, all the Peoples’ M
ilitia in Austin are dead, and the town folk have blood on their hands.”
Jo didn’t mention anything that happened in Kentucky, but she filled Junior and Tom in on the air defense at Round Mountain and the forces assembling down at Carver’s. She also showed Tom her orders.
“Damn it Jo, if they locked you up on radar and saw your Huey, they’re going to be looking for that bird.” Then, Tom briefed Jo and Junior on The Collective’s airpower at Indian Springs and Nellis.
“Shit, that fucking Keeper was right. How can such a nerd always be so right? We’ve got to haul Huey, trailer and all, out of that hangar, up this here road, and into one of them canyons. Then we have to camouflage her real good and hide The Keeper’s cargo somewhere away from that bird. We gotta move her tonight.”
By now, Grandpa John had come to see what was causing all the commotion.
He sat in silence as Tom continued, “Tomorrow, I expect we’ll see all that Peoples’ Militia gathered down there at Carver’s come this way. They’ll head straight up NV 376 then turn west on US 50 to hit Austin from the east. The Collective doesn’t give a shit about a few malcontents holed up down here in Kingston, but they can’t allow Austin to be occupied by the Resistance. That would cut Peoples’ 50 and The Collective would lose all control over eastern Nevada and the gold trends. Austin lies right at the southern end of the major gold trends.”
“Hold on Sweet Pea, just what is a gold trend?”
“Most of Nevada’s gold mines lie in a few narrow bands. Those bands are called trends. Those trends contain “invisible gold”. The old timers never even knew that gold was there. The gold is microscopically dispersed amongst ancient hydrothermal sediments. There ain’t no way to even see it, much less pan it. Gravity separation just doesn’t work.”
“Jesus Jackson, you’re talking about the real shiny stuff?”
“Hell yes Jo, the real Fort Knox stuff.”
It was all Jo could do to keep a straight face while Tom continued.
“That mine you flew over, the one guarded by that SAM battery, was a gold mine. If The Collective loses Austin, the whole southern half of Nevada’s gold mining district is threatened. We all know how much The Collective’s Chinese masters love their gold.”
Junior was more practical, “Yeah they love gold, but they love power even more. They must punish Austin, with extreme prejudice. An example must be made.”
Jo couldn’t care less, “Fuck The Collective and their gold plated Chinese pimps, right Jackson?”
“Hell yes Jo, those fuckers aren’t advancing one step past Kingston. We’ll stop ‘em here, then the Mormons will smash them.”
A totally perplexed look came over Jo’s face, “Mormons?”
Grandpa John spoke not a word. He was lost in thought.
Citizenship
Delvin Smith had to get out of Austin fast. Someone in the crowd may have recognized him. As of late, his face had been plastered all over the Peoples’ News Network and every Collective tabloid incessantly ran stories about Member Smith and Member California Coordinator, Alexis Jones.
Delvin took the back streets out of Austin and headed west on Peoples’ 50. About 75 miles west of Austin, Captain Smith stopped at Westgate, which is not actually a town. Westgate is just a narrow pass between some hills. He parked the box truck behind some ruins just off the westbound side of the road. There he could gather his thoughts and composure and maybe catch a couple of hours sleep.
After only two hours sleep, Delvin’s mind jarred him awake. His brain was running in overdrive. He must cover his tracks. Delvin was no masochist, but he knew what had to be done. As it was getting first light, Delvin stepped out of his truck, pulled his 9mm, and shot himself in the left thigh. It was just a grazing wound, but a convincing wound. He tore off his tee shirt and bandaged his thigh, then headed to Fallon.
Within an hour, Member Delvin Smith was preparing to make his statement at the Peoples’ Militia Post in downtown Fallon, Nevada. The front desk Sergeant immediately recognized him as the Hero of the Collective and called the Peoples’ Fallon Emergency Clinic. In a matter of minutes, an Emergency Room doctor arrived at the Militia Post and tended to Delvin’s wound.
45 minutes later, Delvin began his interview, “Yes Member Sergeant, I was just returning from Hollywood where I had made some public service announcements and did some voice over work for some educational computer games. I had picked up some restaurant and bar supplies down in LA for delivery to a good customer over in Austin. I had just unloaded and sat down at that establishment for a drink and a bite to eat, when all hell broke loose. Do you think the Resistance was trying to kill, or maybe kidnap, me?”
Delvin then paused and cocked his head, “Pardon me Member Sergeant Thompson, would you please help me out to my truck for just a minute?”
“Most certainly, Member Smith.”
Sergeant Thompson held Delvin tightly as he limped out to the box truck. Delvin reached behind the back seat and pulled out a box containing one dozen Swiss chocolate bars.
“Member Sergeant Thompson, the sun is coming up and these chocolate bars will be all melted in a couple of hours. Might you have some children at home who would enjoy a chocolate treat?”
Member Sergeant Lucille Thompson was a 32-year-old single mother of two growing pre-teen boys.
“How thoughtful of you, Member Smith. I’ll just store them in the Post’s fridge until shift change. I have two growing young boys who will surely enjoy that chocolate this evening after school.”
“Just call me Delvin.”
Sergeant Thompson whispered in Slick’s ear, “You can just call me Lucy.”
“Lucy, Honey, how long will it take to finish my statement?”
“We should be finished in about an hour, right before my shift change.”
“That’s good news. I’m very tired. I didn’t get any sleep last night. As soon as the paparazzi gets wind of what happened last night, they’ll track me down and I won’t get any sleep today either.”
Lucy smiled, reached up with her right hand and demurely coiffed her Afro, “Delvin, you need your rest. You’ve been wounded. How about us parking your truck out by the stockyard, then you just come on over to my place and spend a nice restful day in bed?”
“Lucy, that would be heavenly. You know, most of that stuff on TV and in the papers is just bullshit. It would be very nice to have a real woman take care of me today.”
Sergeant Thompson hurriedly took Member Smith’s statement. Then, for the rest of the day, Lucy took very good care of Slick.”
Dawn
Just as Delvin was making his statement over in Fallon, Puma 2 took to the air from the gravel pit out on NV 376. Tommy Jackson and Bobby Ray were hunkered down in a hole underneath a camo tarp.
“I’m gonna take Puma south, Bobby Ray. Dad says they’ll be coming from the south.”
“Man, I hope we don’t get surprised from the north.”
“Nah, he’s got Dawg and a few others up there at Gilman Springs and they’ve blocked the road. We aren’t gonna be surprised from the north.
“I’m gonna keep Puma about 500 feet off the deck and pretty much just east of the road That should help you track her.”
Tommy had arrived back at Kingston only an hour earlier. He carried a concise status report from Vet and Porter. Tom, Junior, and Jo had worked all night along with all the citizens of Kingston.
Huey was well hidden amongst some trees at the far end of Victorine Canyon. That canyon was far too wide to be of use as a helo trap. The Charters were stashed in a nearby abandoned concrete block mine shack. The Keeper, Apache, and Max camped out there, not letting The Charters out of their sight.
Meanwhile, Porter had departed Austin just after Delvin. He was back in Ely at first light. At dawn, four Humvees roared westward through Ely’s US 50 checkpoint making 70 mph.
An hour after departing Ely, the Hummers barreled down Eureka’s Main Street, right through the center of town. The small town of Eur
eka was garrisoned by a single Peoples’ Militiaman, whose breakfast was momentarily interrupted when the Hummers blew through town in a cloud of dust.
“Those damned kids and their off-road vehicles. Where in the hell do they get the gas?”
The four Hummers’ departure from Ely was soon followed by the sortie of 100 mounted Salt Lake Troopers, galloping through the Ely checkpoint, heading west on US 50. A couple of hours later, to avoid detection and take refuge from the intense heat of the day, they would camp amongst the trees in the high country near Robinson Summit. At dusk, they would once again hit the trail for Eureka.
Minutes after the 100 Troopers cleared the Ely checkpoint, the remaining 400 Salt Lake Troopers, along with their motorized units, passed through that checkpoint and headed southwest on US 6. Like rebel horse cavalry of old, they were singing their squadron’s song,
“Come tighten your girth and slacken your rein;
Come buckle your blanket and holster again;
Try the click of your trigger and balance your blade,
For he must ride sure that goes Riding a Raid!”
At sunrise, just to the west of Austin, Adam Jackson, Hank Clemmons, and Puma 1 were perched up on the roof of Stokes Castle. Stokes Castle was a three-story stone tower modeled after a Roman villa in Italy. Built in 1897 by mine developer, railroad magnate, and financier, Anson Phelps Stokes, the Castle stood on a small hilltop that offered an impressive view of the Reese River Valley and US 50 to the west of Austin. The Castle walls were built of massive granite blocks. It was quite the formidable structure.
Two Lander County School Busses full of non-combatants departed Austin, heading for Kingston. No one doubted that Austin could be fire bombed, just like The Collective bombed the town of Round Mountain back in ’27.
John Nicolescu had blocked US 50 in three successive points along the narrows just to the west of Austin. He had about 50 volunteers to man the roadblocks, many of them not in the best of shape. John stationed most of his strength at WestBlock, figuring that the Kingston forces would be covering his ass on the east side. John’s men were armed with a mish mash of weapons, not much ammunition, and most had little, if any, training.