by Hunt, Jack
The PLA was using what initially looked like farmland from a distance but after getting closer Miles realized it belonged to some business, maybe related to the railway. Either way, the large plot of open land still had the same helicopter he’d seen land earlier. Their timing couldn’t have been better. The engine was fired up and several soldiers were exiting a Humvee and running at a crouch toward it. No doubt looking to get close enough to communicate with Chicago or nearby barracks. If it wasn’t for the blackness of the night, they might have found themselves engaged in a gunfight that could have easily led to the death of several of them. But cloaked by darkness, the only thing the soldiers saw was the flash of their muzzles as they squeezed off rounds.
Before the pilot knew what was upon him, a rifle was stuck in his face and he was told to get out. Jensen hopped into his seat. “Thanks for keeping it warm,” he said before firing a round in his face.
“Really?” Miles asked as he got on the other side.
“What? I thought he was going for his gun.” He chuckled as he strapped in and did a quick check. Four of the ten went with them for additional support while the rest would return to help Gunnar and the others. Once they were in the air, the ground crew would collect vehicles and head back to Camdenton to await their return.
After all, Gunnar had been through, Miles wasn’t going to put this on his shoulders. The four that had offered to come with him knew Murphy and were adamant that they wanted in even if it meant not getting out. Now that was loyalty.
“We got enough fuel?” Miles asked.
“Soon find out,” Jensen hollered, cackling to himself.
Seconds later, the bird lifted in the air, casting a long dark shadow over the terrain before it banked toward the east. The final glimpse he got of Gunnar was a firefight between their group and the remnants of the Niota PLA.
21
Wade Greene
PEOC, Washington DC
The recorded footage of the collapsing bridge had been delivered to him while he was having dinner. The excitement in the room was palpable as they played it back. The amateur video was grainy and dark until the explosion. Seeing the train vanish into the murky waters of the Mississippi got a roar out of those in the room. It was like the Fourth of July, a liberating moment for America. There were pats on the back, hands shaken and a hug from Secretary of State Jillian Matthews. It was a moment he would never forget. This hadn’t been done by the U.S. military but by ordinary Americans, militia, the same groups that had at one time been damned by the media. It was a fitting end to the PLA anti-missile system and dangerous weapons on route to Chicago. Had it reached the city, there would have been no end to the struggle.
As it stood, they were gaining ground and everyone in that room knew it.
Its timing couldn’t have been better, not just for the fact that they knew top officials for the Chinese and Russians were in the city, but also for him. The good news came on the tail of a message that left him relieved. Hours earlier, he’d heard that his daughter, Jo Greene, was on route to Washington, safe and sound.
Gracey, one of the staff, handed out glasses of wine to celebrate but he declined and it was noted by all. He didn’t like to put a damper on the moment but they were far from out of the woods. “Barry, do we have the go-ahead for Chicago?” he asked the army major.
“Our forces are ready when you are. However, there are reports that a large number of the resistance are in the city.”
“Why?”
“Searching for your wife.”
Wade frowned, confused.
He’d assumed when they said they had his daughter and she was safe that her mother was not far from her, possibly in a neighboring town. Barry looked concerned. “I thought they told you, sir.”
“Told me what?”
“She’s dead. Initial reports believed that she’d been taken to Chicago but the latest transmission from Liberty Radio confirmed that she’d been used as a ploy to draw in the resistance.”
He wanted to sink into his seat. Twenty-eight years he’d been with her. How many marriages lasted that long anymore? Although he and Jillian had bonded in the five years they’d been in the bunker, he would have been lying to say that he wasn’t looking forward to her return.
“Any word from Arrington?”
“None, other than he was involved in the destruction of the bridge.” There was a pause. “Should I give the go-ahead, sir?”
“Give me a moment.”
Barry nodded and walked away. All his staff left the room except for Jillian. She perched herself on the edge of the table and placed a hand on his shoulder as he took a seat. He wasn’t only wrestling with the news of his wife but with giving the order to wipe Chicago off the map. It wasn’t just the resistance, the same people who had been responsible for the retrieval of his daughter, that weighed on his mind. It was all the Americans that were trapped in that city, prisoners of war to the PLA.
“There is no easy way, Wade. You have to give the go-ahead.”
“I’m the one that has to live with that.”
“We all do. Think about how many Americans have died already, but how many more will if you don’t do this. We won’t get another shot like this. This could be what turns the tide. You know that.”
He closed his eyes as he was contemplating. There was a knock at the door, and one of his staff, Terri-Anne, poked her head in. “Your daughter is here.”
Hearing that was like a breath of fresh air. He got up and dashed out the door, ready to meet her. Two armed Marines were escorting her down the corridor when she came into view. Jo burst away from them and ran to meet him. After a brief hug, he thanked the Marines and led her back into the briefing room. He had so many questions. Five years. It had been a long time since he’d seen her. His emotions got the better of him and he wiped away a few tears. “Sit. You hungry? Thirsty? Did they do anything to you?” He bombarded her with questions.
“I’m okay, Dad. You look tired.”
He snorted and cut a glance at Jillian. “I look tired? Come here,” he said and gave her another hug. Then as if he knew he couldn’t put off the inevitable, he had to ask her.
“What happened to her, Jo?”
His daughter dipped her chin and rubbed the middle of her left hand with her thumb. “I don’t know. They took her and I never saw her again.”
“And they never told you?”
She shook her head.
“She’s dead, Jo, at least that’s the news we received tonight.”
Although he figured his daughter knew, that didn’t stop her emotions from getting the better of her. Wade crouched in front of her, placing his hands on his knees. “The main thing is you are safe.” She looked off to her right.
“This is Jillian.”
“I know, I met her once, years ago,” she said in a soft tone.
She looked back at her father, studying the lines on his face. There were more of them now. Creases gained from sleepless nights and anxious thoughts.
“What happens now, Dad?”
He took a deep breath and looked at Jillian. “Give the go-ahead.”
22
John Murphy
Chicago
Tex was to set the UH-60 Black Hawk down near Northwestern Memorial Hospital on top of the Children’s Memorial Hospital Heliport. The 22-story facility was in a neighborhood surrounded by high-rises. Darius had reassured them that in his time in Chicago, he had seen multiple helicopters land there and it remained one of the least secure areas of the city — information that Murphy wasn’t buying as he sat in the belly of the bird doing one last check of his gear before they touched down.
After having served in the army for twelve years, and leading multiple militia groups since getting out, he was used to giving orders, not taking them from a guy whose group at the best of times were considered religious fanatics. He was a God-fearing man, his mother had raised him to be respectful of God, family, and others, but these Watchmen took it to a whole new le
vel. There was something that just didn’t sit right with him. It was the reason why he’d put the brakes on the twelve meeting together, it was also the reason why he told the other ten to hang back while he went with Darius and a team of four to extract the first lady.
He looked at Darius, a man who looked like a rat with a slanted head and tangled greasy black hair. He tried not to judge people by the way they looked but everything about the way he carried himself, the fatigues he wore, and his demeanor struck him as someone who didn’t give a rat’s ass, he certainly wasn’t a daring ex-Marine. That story stank to high heaven. He figured he’d used it to draw in followers and establish his position as leader.
“Run it by me again. You and Jameson snuck into a plane that took you from Branson to Chicago with the first lady. You attempted to get her out and failed. Jameson was killed and you escaped the city beneath a collaborator’s truck?”
“That’s about it.”
“And you eluded capture in Branson while your other guys died.”
“Unfortunately, God rest their souls.”
Murphy snorted. He looked out the window as the Hawk banked hard to the left and swooped down for the final approach. Without power in the city, and barring a few lights, the concrete jungle was cloaked in darkness. “You’re either the luckiest man alive or God is watching over you.”
He turned his attention to Tex who was piloting the helicopter. “ETA?”
“A few minutes from now. Remember, we only have enough fuel to get to the outskirts of the city after you get the first lady.”
Murphy patted him on the back. “Got it.”
He didn’t like this mission one bit. Intel was vague. The window was small. His bullshit meter was giving him every warning sign under the sun. It didn’t help that Chicago was now a hub of activity with the return of PLA troops, but with the first lady’s life on the line, and the potential of the U.S. military wiping out the city once Arrington and his crew took out the train, it had to be done. If ever there was something worth dying for, it was this. The faint glimmer of light on the horizon, the reassuring news of the military winning offshore gave him enough fuel for his engine.
Although he was whiter around the chin and didn’t move as fast as he used to, he still had the lion in him and if ever there was a time to unleash it, it was now.
As the Black Hawk came around the southeastern tip of the city, Murphy could see a militarized presence down below along the shore of Lake Michigan. Lights from boats offered them a look at the huge numbers of troops stationed along the lake, tanks, barbed wire fencing that had been erected, and guard towers to watch over those in the city and those approaching by water.
“You said you saw a lot of helicopters landing on the heliport. How can you be certain that there won’t be one when we arrive?” Tex asked.
Darius leaned forward to reply as the noise of the rotors made it hard to hear anything. Tex had to repeat himself. “I can’t,” Darius replied. “But unless you want to set this down in the middle of the city, that’s the only option we have. Anywhere else and we will come under fire from troops on the ground. The hospital is being used to treat troops, they’re used to seeing birds there and right now that’s where the first lady is.”
“Because she’s injured,” Murphy added.
Darius turned his gaze to him. “She was having heart issues. That was the last place I saw her,” Darius said. Tex looked back and exchanged a glance with Murphy. He gave him this look of distrust. Murphy looked out, feeling uneasy. It was the same feeling he’d gotten back when he was wet behind the ears, and new to the military. It wasn’t being dropped into the unknown, into dangerous territory, that bothered him, it was wondering if the man beside him would have his back if shit went south.
And there was a good chance it would.
They’d spoken of taking in numerous helicopters but they wouldn’t have been able to set them down without trouble and sneaking into the city was near impossible if Darius’ intel was correct.
Instead, Murphy had personally selected specific individuals, guys who were highly trained. Those who had a military background and had been behind enemy lines. He trusted them, unlike the weasel sitting across from him. He couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Still, after Arrington’s daring rescue in Branson, he couldn’t exactly back down. He would have looked like a pussy. Leaders lead and so far he’d given orders but hadn’t been in the thick of it. That wasn’t his choice, others had told him he was too valuable to the cause. If he had his way he would have been like Arrington, running toward the fire instead of away from it, but he wasn’t as young as he used to be. This war was a young man’s game.
His gaze washed over the other men outfitted in black fatigues, helmets mounted with NV goggles, and each of them carrying M4s. They all knew this was a suicide mission and yet if they were fearful, they didn’t show it. It’s why he chose them. He couldn’t have people who would fold under pressure. The military prided themselves on weeding out the weak though there were times a few slipped through the cracks. Those were often the ones that got men killed on the battlefield.
“Okay folks. Once we land, Darius will take the lead. Tex will hang back awaiting our extraction,” he said. “The risk we are taking isn’t just for the president or the first lady, it’s for every American that has given his or her life. I know I can rely on you but if I’m shot, or cannot go on… well… you know what to do.”
Keith O’Brien, a close friend, did one last check of his ammo. He looked across at Murphy. “It’s been a pleasure serving alongside you, Murph.”
“Same here.”
There was an odd feeling knowing they might not make it out.
Murphy noticed Darius was the only one who looked nervous. His fingers were drumming out a beat on his knees and he was muttering something under his breath. Tex hollered, “Two minutes.”
Jake Summers handed each of them a map of the hospital that indicated the room the first lady was last seen in. “What if they’ve moved her?” one of them asked.
“Then we search every room until we find her.”
“And if she’s not there?”
“She had better be,” Murphy said, glaring at Darius who said that the chances of her being moved were slim to none because of her declining health. It appeared that the heart attack was brought on by the stress of being held captive by Santiago, a man that Arrington had taken out but had caused untold terror before his demise.
“How many guards?” Keith asked Darius.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“Maybe ten.”
“Maybe?”
“That was then, this is now. They could have changed it. If I tell you five and there are ten you’ll be pissed. Just expect the worst and hope for the best,” Darius said. All eyes were on him and he knew it. Although the Watchmen had vouched for him, and other militia leaders had said he’d earned his place among the resistance, Murphy couldn’t get past some of the comments he’d made about government before the war. It had been his group that had made other militia look bad in the media. Darius had been very vocal to the point that the FBI had raided his group two years before that. It was part of an FBI-led joint terrorism operation that saw twenty-one of Darius’s men arrested for having a plot to kill government officials, use weapons of mass destruction, and teaching how to use explosive materials. Fortunately for them, all charges were dismissed and they were released when prosecutors said they didn’t have enough evidence to prove they had real plans to attack anyone.
He pushed the negative thoughts from his mind as his crew did a final gear check before landing. The wind howled and the beat of the rotors dominated as he took in the outline of the 22-story building. They caught sight of different lights inside, all of which matched up with what Darius had said about the facility being used to treat the wounded. They were running off solar generators, the whole place was rigged to keep medical equipment operating. It
wasn’t like the way it used to be, but better than nothing. “All right, boys.” They brought down the NV goggles and adjusted their grip on their rifles as Tex brought the bird in lower and the H on top of the building grew larger.
Within seconds of landing, all of them emptied out of the Black Hawk and made a beeline for the fire exit. Murphy looked back one last time at Tex, who gave him the thumbs-up. As Keith opened the door, and Darius went into the stairwell, they expected to encounter hostiles but it was quiet inside, barely any sound.
According to Darius, the first lady was kept on the twentieth floor in room 2011, that was unless they’d moved her but he was adamant he’d heard a soldier say that she would be kept there permanently.
As they made their way down to the twenty-second floor, Jake peered out into the corridor and gave the thumbs-up. There was something very odd about it. All this security around the perimeter and yet no one there upon their arrival.
The twenty-first floor was the same. Zero soldiers.
As they were making their way down, Murphy peered over the banister but there was no activity on the lower floors. Where were they? He was beginning to think they’d moved her until they arrived on the twentieth floor. Before Darius exited the stairwell, Murphy grabbed him and shoved him against the wall. “You said the first lady was on the twentieth floor. It strikes me as odd that no guards are manning these doors.”
“What do you want me to say?”
He gritted his teeth. His account stank to high heaven but they were here now.
Peering out the corridor, it was quiet, too quiet. “Keith, stay here and watch those stairs.” He gave a nod and pressed his back to the wall, angling his M4 down the staircase as one by one they entered the corridor. The lighting inside was poor but to be expected. Other than a few chemlight glow sticks in the stairwell, lighting was dismal.