by TW Powell
“Junior, let’s take that bitch down.”
“Hang on a minute, Cowboy.” Junior ran back toward the Hummer.
Junior pulled a Type 91 Japanese heat-seeker from the rear of the Hummer, aimed, then fired. If the helo had countermeasures, they weren’t up to snuff that evening. The chopper was heading south toward the mouth of Victorine Canyon at an altitude of maybe 500 feet. Junior’s shot hit the chopper dead center. The sound of the explosion echoed down through the canyons like thunder and the huge airborne fireball was like a flash of heat lightning.
“You men help me round up these ChiCom bodies. In the morning, we need to carefully search them for intel and weapons.”
Then Tom hollered across the canyon, “As for you Josephine, you need to get your death wish ass back down to the Aid Station where you belong.”
Junior was intently watching the burning wreckage fall to earth, “Best we get some men up here and keep these fires under control. Don’t think there’s gonna be too much left of the chopper to sort through in the morning.”
Side Bar
As “Death Wish” Jo stumbled her way past the mine shack on her way back to the Aid Station, The Keeper uncharacteristically confronted her, drug her into the shack, and another side bar conversation ensued.
“Jo, does this convince you?”
“Keeper, can we discuss this sometime when I’m off the critical list?”
The Keeper sharply responded, “No! We’re going to settle this now!”
Throughout the early morning battle, Jo was at maybe 75% strength. The Keeper’s tone and aggressive manner now snapped her brain back into focus. She was only beginning to grasp that the battle had been David’s rite of passage. He was no longer “Keeper Junior Grade”. David was now “Keeper First Class”.
“This location is not secure! This is unacceptable! This is your responsibility!”
Jo was fumbling for words. Actually, Josephine was completely intimidated.
Tom Jackson was busy dragging the Chinese bodies back to the Hummer when he heard the Keeper’s raised voice.
Tom stuck his head into the shack, “Everything OK in here?”
“It most certainly is not! Sergeant Jackson, Lieutenant Parker was under strict orders to deliver this cargo to a secure location.”
Tom was also caught off guard, then he noticed Jo standing there silently, hanging her bandaged head in shame.
“This location is not secure. Lieutenant Parker has no plan to remedy this situation.”
“Mr. Keeper, sir, may I inquire as to the nature of the cargo?”
“Sergeant Jackson, you most certainly may not!”
The Keeper then pulled out his orders and stuck them in Tom’s face. Jo was still standing there, in great pain, totally humiliated, and cowed.
Tom quickly scanned the document, “Mr. Keeper, if I may..”
The Keeper gave Tom one of those “go ahead Dummy, speak” looks.
“Lieutenant Parker has been discussing the safety of this cargo with me ever since she arrived in Kingston, without actually going into specifics.”
“Oh, please continue.”
“My ranch is just a ways south of Kingston. My family has worked Stonewall Ranch for several generations. We have a turquoise mine high in the Toiyabe Mountains. It is a family secret. There’s a cave near the turquoise outcrop. Over the generations, we have upgraded that cave making it a bug out location. We have several well-hidden caches nearby. Jo and I have been discussing the possibility of storing the three cases in three different caches and turning the cave bunker into your headquarters. Of course, all of that is contingent upon clearing The Collective out of Big Smoky Valley once and for all.”
Jo had no frigging idea what Tom Jackson was talking about, but it sounded pretty good. She just raised her head and grinned.
“Please forgive me Ms. Jo. I should have known you had a plan.”
Tom continued, “I’m certain Jo was waiting until the Mormons eliminated the threats at Carver’s and Round Mountain. Only then will we have a firm plan.”
Jo once again grinned and The Keeper seemed placated, “Jo, you need to get back to the Aid Station.”
As Jo passed by Thomas, he whispered in her ear, “Now we’re even.”
Bobby Lee
By the time Sid ran into the Aid Station carrying his Daddy in his arms, the entire Medical Team was awake and ready for incoming wounded. This didn’t look good. A bullet had creased Bobby Lee’s forehead and his face was a bloody mess. Another bullet had impacted his abdomen.
Bobby Lee was Kingston’s Mr. Fixit. He was constantly repairing this, or modifying that, or building something new. He always wore coveralls with his trusty leather tool belt loosely buckled around his hips. Bobby Lee’s prized possession was his 25-foot chrome Craftsman tape measure that he kept hooked to the front of his belt. When Tom Jackson insisted that Bobby Lee carry at all times, Bobby Lee slipped his Glock into the tool belt pocket normally reserved for a cordless drill.
Nurse Beth began tending to the forehead wound. It looked bad but hadn’t penetrated Bobby Lee’s skull. Other than a headache, this wound shouldn’t be a problem.
Doctor J unbuckled Bobby Lee’s tool belt. Then he called out to Big Sid.”
“Just stay back there, son. I thought you said your Daddy was gut shot.”
“Yes Sir, Doctor J, Sir! Those Chinamen done shot Daddy in the belly.”
“I don’t see a wound. There’s no entry hole in his coveralls.”
Doctor J was thorough and now he was thoroughly perplexed. He continued his investigation. Just a few seconds later, J began laughing. Then he turned back toward Big Sid.
“What in the hell is so funny, Doc? Them assholes done kilt my Daddy.”
Doctor J held Bobby Lee’s tool belt up near the low hanging shop light and pointed his finger, “They got you Daddy right here, in the Tape Measure.”
Bobby Lee’s prized Craftsman tape measure had a hole in it with the bullet finally being stopped by the leather tool belt.
“Those Chinese rounds were hollow points, designed to mushroom upon impact, thereby inflict maximum tissue damage. The 5.8 mm low velocity round hit the tape measure, then mushroomed, enabling that heavy leather belt to stop it. Your Daddy has one nasty bruise on his belly.”
“Mr. Doctor J, you mean my Daddy is OK?”
Bobby Lee was just coming around, “I’m OK son. These good people have things under control.”
“Doctor J, you’re tellin’ me those fuckers were just trying to hurt people?”
“No, Mr. Sid, they were trying to kill people.”
Sid sat for a while beside his dad in silence, then randomly asked, “Daddy, do you think that Craftsman warranty will cover your tape?”
Road Construction
The Mormon technicians and remote pilots in the control bunker down at Creech Air Force Base in Indian Springs were enjoying the video feed from Global Hawk. Shortly after dawn, a huge convoy of Peoples’ Militia vehicles had departed the Churchill County Fairgrounds and was heading east on Peoples’ 50. A little over two miles west of Reese River the convoy briefly paused.
Both MQ-9 Reapers were now on station over Stoke’s Castle. Each Reaper was packing four AGM-114 Hellfire missiles and two 500-pound GBU-12 Paveway II laser-guided bombs. Puma 1 was back in the air and Delvin, Porter, and Vet were watching Puma’s video feed.
“Captain Smith, Mr. Porter, Mr. John, you guys have seen most of Puma’s tricks, but I don’t think you’ve seen them all.”
John Nicolescu was smiling, “OK Dead Eye, what else has your kitty got up her sleeve?”
“Our little kitty has a laser pointer. If she sees any bad boys, she can point them out.”
Slick then wryly chimed in, “Point them out to whom?”
“Those two Reapers now circling overhead each carry two laser guided 500-pound bombs.”
The Chinese commander of the M1A1 Abrams leading the column stopped to read the orange hazard s
ign, “Road Construction 2 Miles.” Another mile further east, the column slowed once more, “Road Construction 1 Mile.” Another mile further east, the column barely slowed, “Shoulder Work Ahead.” “Reduce speed to 35 MPH.”
Large orange traffic cones were set about 30 feet apart on both left and right shoulders for the next 600 feet. The column was only moving 35 mph. No need to slow. The lead tank was now on the Reese River bridge.
Two Salt Lake Troopers were hidden in the scrub along the Reese River, about 100 yards south of Peoples’ 50. They pressed a button. Twenty 1.25 pound C-4 demolition charges blew the reinforced concrete highway bridge to smithereens. The Abrams was not completely destroyed, but it was now lying on its side in the Reese River. Its tracks were blown off and it was partially buried under tons of concrete rubble.
Each of those 40 traffic cones along both shoulders of Peoples’ 50 contained a 1.25 pound C-4 charge surrounded by broken glass, ball bearings, nails, and screws. A steel plate was positioned inside each cone to direct the blast toward the center of the road. Another button was pressed. All 40 traffic cones simultaneously erupted, hurling shrapnel across Peoples’ 50 from both sides. Every vehicle along that 600 foot stretch of Peoples’ 50 was shredded.
As the smoke gradually cleared, the remaining Abrams and two Bradley Fighting Vehicles began moving down the gradually sloping Reese River embankment, attempting to ford the shallow, almost dry river. Actually, the Reese River is more like a small creek, but for Nevada, it’s a river.
Puma was loitering at 1,000 feet above the Reese River battlefield. Adam Jackson gimballed Puma’s laser designator onto the Abrams. The Mormon remote pilot in Indian Springs pressed a button. The MQ-9 Reaper on station 14,000 feet above Puma released a Paveway II laser guided 500-pound bomb. Even the impregnable Abrams cannot withstand a direct hit from a 500-pound bomb. The explosion was unimaginably violent.
Puma then illuminated a Bradley. Another 500-pound bomb scored a direct hit. The other Reaper descended to 2,000 feet and took care of the second Bradley with a Hellfire. Now both Reapers levelled off at 2,000 feet above Peoples’ 50 and began decimating the remains of the Peoples’ Militia column as it attempted to flee back to Fallon.
Puma’s video feed of the Reese River battlefield resembled news coverage of the “Highway of Death” from Operation Desert Storm. It was shear carnage.
The 100 Salt Lake Troopers had just reached the Junction of NV 376 and US 50 when the Reese River Bridge exploded.
“Was that thunder?”
“Hell no! Bugler, sound the charge!”
It was 12 miles of steep uphill grade to Austin. The charge was more like a rapid climb. One hour later, the 100 Salt Lake Troopers arrived in Austin. Their mounts were spent.
The explosions could even be heard down in Kingston.
“Sergeant Jackson, is that thunder?”
“No, Nurse Beth. That is war. That is real war. That is hell on Earth.”
The Anvil
“Where do you think you’re going?”
“Don’t give me any shit Sweet Pea. Just because you bailed me out with the Keeper last night doesn’t mean you can boss my ass. I outrank you and I’m meaner than you.”
Thomas Jackson broke up laughing, then Jo grudgingly joined in.
“Lieutenant Parker, Mam, you don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”
“Thank you, Sergeant Jackson and thank you for last night. Were you serious?”
“Hell yes! Whatever you have in those cases will be safe down at Stonewall Ranch.”
“Good! If anything happens to me, this all falls onto you. Got it?”
“Yes Mam, your cargo will be safe. The Keeper will be safe.
“So, you’re going down there with us tonight?”
“Yes, Sergeant. I don’t have a damned thing to prove. But I do have debts to pay. I owe Apache. I owe my friend Miriam. I owe your friend Juan. I owe all those men whose graves The Collective has desecrated. You owe them too.”
“Yes Mam, I do.”
Thomas threw Jo a desert camo full face mask, “So, if I can’t stop you and you’re going down there tonight, you best cover those white bandages with this mask.”
“Would be a mite less conspicuous.”
“We’re going to dig in about 3 miles north of Carver’s.”
“That’s the little burg just north of the mine?”
“Yes Mam. Tomorrow morning, probably at dawn, 400 Mormon cavalrymen are going to attack that mine. They’re going to drive those bastards north. They will drive the remnants toward us. We are the anvil. The Mormons are the hammer. It will be a battle of annihilation. It will not be pretty.”
“Thomas, it never is.”
The Kingston Forces moved out at dusk in the remaining Lander County School bus and two Hummers. They were joined out on NV 376 by the three Deseret Hummers from Austin, carrying Vet, Delvin, and 10 Salt Lake Troopers along with gasoline, mines, ammo, and a .30 caliber Browning machinegun.
Nurse Beth rode along acting as Medic. The rest of the Medical Team had the Aid Station open for business. The Kingston noncombatants were armed and on alert just in case the exterminators showed up again. The Keeper and Max stood guard over The Charters up in Victorine Canyon.
Digging In
Junior broke up laughing when he saw Jo in her camo face mask, “So, Ms. Jo, did you retitle your horror show from The Mummy to The Predator?
“Not funny, Junior. How about I just kick your Black ass all the way back to Kentucky?”
Junior continued laughing, Jo no longer intimidated him.
Jo was now laughing right along with Junior, “It does look pretty rad, don’t it?”
Belcher Creek was similar to Bowman Creek. It was little more than a gulley this time of year, although, up in the high country, isolated pools were home to both brown and brook trout. The mission at Belcher Creek was also similar to the Bowman Creek mission. The Kingston force would block NV 376, preventing the further retreat of Peoples’ Militia from Round Mountain and Carver’s. The major difference was, this time, the Resistance had time to prepare the battlefield.
Grandpa John was already hidden somewhere at the base of the Toiyabes, about a mile west of NV 376. Paladin was hidden in a nearby canyon. John had already prepared several positions. This time out, he would remember his training. He would shoot once, then displace.
Junior took command on the right. Vet was in command on the left. Delvin was in overall command. HQ was a quickly dug series of foxholes on the west side of NV 376, down in the creek bed. Thomas was in charge of the center. The .30 Browning would be in the center. Junior had one BAR, Vet had the other.
A pattern of Claymore mines and IEDs was laid along a 100-yard stretch of NV 376 to the south of Belcher Creek. Small individual groups of mines and IEDs were placed several yards south of Belcher Creek.
Tommy Jackson was down in the foxhole with Delvin and Thomas at the controls of Puma 2. Delvin could watch the action unfold on the laptop. HQ was in constant radio communications with Indian Springs and Austin.
Thomas had parked the two Hummers just a few yards behind HQ ready to bug out, or quickly move troops from the center to either flank.
It would be a cold camp tonight, no fires along Belcher Creek and no noise.
Round Mountain
The approximately 1,000 slave laborers, aka: Debtors, had no idea just what was exactly happening. Day Shift ended and Swing Shift began at 4 p.m. The Chinese managers, technicians, and engineers instructed Day Shift to shut down all mining and production processes at the end of Day shift. That’s when the Debtors began noticing something peculiar.
“Where are the Peoples’ Militia?”
Unknown to the Debtors, the Peoples’ Militia retreat from the Battle at Bowman Creek had become a rout. As the retreating Militia told their tale of woe, fear and panic spread like wildfire among the Militia guards at Round Mountain. The Resistance was coming, and they had airpower. Some Members even whispered that the M
ormons were coming. The Peoples’ Militia silently deserted Round Mountain.
The Debtors now decided to take matters into their own hands. The Chinese managers up in the Main Office were the first to be taken captive, quickly followed by the engineering staff, then the laboratory technicians. By shift change time, all the Chinese staff were bound, gagged, and assembled in the Main Office Parking Lot and surrounded by the Debtors.
That afternoon unfolded like a time anomaly from a Sci-Fi TV show as the bloody scene from 14 years earlier was replayed. The Debtors had no firearms, but they had tools of all sorts and put them to use in imaginatively barbaric fashion. One-by-one, the Chinese staff were denounced as enemies of America and guilty of crimes against the American People. One-by-one, the Chinese were cruelly executed.
Then the Debtors raided the Peoples’ Commissary and Kitchen and had their first good meal in years. Next, they used the front-end loaders and bulldozers to block NV 376 both north and south of Round Mountain. Finally, they settled into the Peoples’ Militia and Chinese Staff quarters and had a good night’s sleep. They were free.
At dawn the following morning, the Debtors were awakened by the same cavalry bugle call that, a couple of days earlier, had awakened the Members in North Las Vegas. 400 Zion Troopers charged northward up the valley floor. 200 Troopers headed toward the town of Round Mountain and 200 Troopers seized the mine and processing plant. Round Mountain fell without a shot being fired.
A detachment of Troopers headed directly to the secure Gold Room. The door was found unlocked and there was no gold. The Peoples’ Militia had raided the Gold Room as they deserted their posts.
The Mormon technical specialists quickly seized the Chinese SAM battery and the 10 missile reloads stored in a nearby shed. They immediately powered up the air search radars, ready to eliminate any airborne threats.