Outlaws of the Midwest | Book 3 | Havoc Endures

by Hunt, Jack

  “Actually, no. That was Gunnar’s. It wasn’t just me. It was him as well.”

  “Gunnar Nelson.” He nodded with a smile. “I remember him. I mean, when Demar was still alive. Back when we were trying to make a change.” He scoffed. “Man, that guy had some radical ideas. No one listened.” He looked up. “Except you.”

  “Well, trust me. I had my moments when I didn’t listen.”

  Miles wandered over to the doorway that separated them from the guards’ station. There were a couple of collaborators behind the thick impenetrable glass. He knocked on the window and they glanced up from the paperwork. “You guys think you can open the door?” They chuckled and went back to what they were doing. Miles turned and shrugged. “We always try the hard approach, figured I would give it a shot. You never knew who’s on the edge of turning.”

  He returned to his seat beside Murphy, opening and closing his jaw to work out the tension. It hurt so bad. He’d received one hell of a beating from the Chinese when he was in captivity before but at least they focused on his body. Yong had gone to work on his face with his bare hands. To see a general get his hands dirty was new. But he wasn’t the only one. Yong had instructed August to take over. Unlike the way he was treated when he first arrived, something had shifted in August’s eyes. It was as if it pained him to strike Miles. He’d continued until Yong went out of the room then he stopped. He had to wonder how much of what he’d told him had sunk in, and whether he believed it or not.

  Resigned to their fate of dying in Chicago, Miles didn’t even look up when he heard the door open. It was Murphy who nudged him.

  Standing by the opening was August. He made his way over and stood beside Miles, keeping his back turned. “If you want to get out. Follow my lead.”

  Miles looked up at him and August placed a hand on his shoulder.

  25

  When he realized August wasn’t joking, Miles said, “I’m not going anywhere without these guys.” He cast a glance at Murphy, Keith, Jake, and crew. August scanned their faces, a frown appearing. All of them had received severe beatings from August, so the looks he was getting weren’t friendly.

  He leaned down and whispered into Miles’ ear.

  “You think they trust me?”

  “They’ll have to.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t get all of you out of here.”

  “Then I guess I’m staying,” he replied, leaning back. August scowled at him.

  “You always were a stubborn sonofabitch.” He breathed in deeply, looking back toward the door then back at him again. “Miles. I can’t. It will raise too many questions.”

  Miles narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. “The military is about to wipe this city off the map. I will not leave these guys behind. So do what you must but either we all go, or none of us goes.”

  August nodded, turned, and walked away. The door closed behind him and Miles assumed that was his answer. For a brief moment, he felt like he’d signed his death warrant.

  “You should have gone with him,” Murphy said.

  “I should have done a lot of things, Murph. I have enough on my conscience, I don’t need the added guilt.”

  “You know it’s not just us.” He looked around at all the others. Miles followed his gaze. This was only one floor, there were many others, full of Americans who had been thrown in here, their only crime refusing to bow the knee to the enemy.

  There was no way to save them. This wasn’t a rescue mission to save all of Chicago. He’d come in to tell August the truth, and if he accepted it, get him out. He never even expected to run into Murphy and crew. And with the clock ticking, if he was honest, he didn’t think he would get out.

  They remained there for the better part of an hour before August reappeared, this time there were no collaborators, no soldiers. It was just him. He made his way over to Miles who was lying down on one of the tables in the common room, staring up at the ceiling, wondering if death would come quickly when the bombs dropped.

  “All right. You, and Murphy’s crew but that’s it and you must go with me now.”

  Miles swung his legs onto the attached bench, let out a whistle and the five of them including Miles followed August out. The first thing he noticed was the lack of security.

  “Where are the soldiers?”

  “Distracted.”

  He didn’t go into detail and said very little. Miles could tell he was nervous as they stopped at every corner and he was the first to look around. “August, you know we won’t make it out of this city in time.”

  “We don’t need to,” he replied. “You ever remember that trip we took to Chicago when we were in twelfth grade?”

  “Not exactly. That was a long time ago.”

  “Our guide for the day said there were six underground tunnels in Chicago. The Pedway, CTA, freight, cable car, water, and Deep Tunnel. And that’s what they knew. There’s supposed to be others.” He cast a glance over his shoulder before continuing. “The last one, the Deep Tunnel, is supposed to be 350 feet below the ground, aimed at reducing flooding in the metropolitan area by diverting raw sewage into a temporary reservoir. It’s far enough below the surface that when they attack the city we should be safe.”

  “We?”

  He stopped and looked at him. “Well after this, there’s no going back for me.”

  Miles wanted to ask him what changed his mind but they kept moving, hurrying along the corridor before entering the stairway and making their way down. He’d already told them that they weren’t going out through the main entrance but instead, they would use the attached six-story parking structure.

  Not trusting that the others wouldn’t kill him for what he’d done to them, August handed Miles a handgun and told him he shouldn’t have to use it but if things went south, it was there. That right there was trust, a sign that August had turned a corner. Whether he was tired of the PLA or simply convinced by Morgan’s confession, to Miles it looked as if the old August was back. Still, if they managed to get out of this, he would never be the same. Miles could forgive him for killing Scarlett but he wasn’t sure whether August could forgive himself.

  “Listen up, once we are in the parking structure, I’ve positioned a Humvee close to the door. It’s unlocked. Get in. We then have to make it several blocks to the Thompson Center just north of here.”

  August snuck a peek, checking the corridor that led down to the exit that would take them to the multi-level parking structure. He then motioned for them to go, one by one. They didn’t waste time bolting for a steel door at the far end of the corridor. Whatever measures August had taken had worked, as they were moments away from being free.

  As the first of them burst through the door into the upper level of the parking structure, Miles suddenly heard a voice call out. “Going somewhere?”

  Miles lifted his gun, pointing away from where they’d come as several soldiers came out, armed to the teeth with rifles. Behind him, not far from August, were General Yong and two more soldiers. At first, he thought August had sold them out but he noted August had his gun raised at them and was backing up toward Miles but keeping it leveled at Yong.

  “And I had such high hopes for you, August.”

  “We’re leaving,” August replied.

  “How?”

  A few more soldiers appeared behind Yong.

  There were a tense few seconds. Miles knew he might be able to take out a couple but realistically, with the kind of firepower they were packing, they’d all be killed for certain. Instead of relying on brute force, he figured he’d appeal to the same instinct that was in everyone, no matter what culture. The will to survive. Keeping his gun trained on one of them, he addressed Yong. “Our military plans to bomb this city.”

  He was quick to respond. “Your military is obsolete.”

  “You wish they were. That anti-missile system you’ve been banking on is at the bottom of the Mississippi River along with the new supply of weapons. I know because I was involved in br
inging the bridge down. That was all our military was waiting for. They received word from us hours ago. You’ll be lucky if you manage to make it out of here alive.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “You want to lay a bet on that?” Miles shot back.

  August didn’t take his gun off Yong.

  “Squeeze the trigger, August, and you might take me out but they will kill you. Now lay your weapon down.” There was a pause, no one did anything. “I said lay your weapons down. I won’t ask again!”

  Miles gritted his teeth and August looked back at him and shook his head before lowering the weapon. Miles followed suit and soldiers moved in on them. “Take them back to their room. It seems you have a new cellmate,” he said to Miles as he passed him by and entered the stairwell.

  As they trudged up the steps under the watchful eye of armed soldiers, despair and despondency fell like a blanket over them. They’d come so close. Miles had seen the outside. A few more minutes and they would have escaped.

  They’d only made it two flights of steps when a series of explosions erupted, shaking the building. A large fissure appeared in the wall as another boom dominated. It hit so hard that it felt like an earthquake.

  Such was the force and tremors that it knocked everyone backward.

  Miles saw the opportunity as he fell into one of the soldiers and they toppled down a few steps. He wasn’t the only one. As the building shook violently from further explosions, a struggle ensued. Several guns went off as each of the men seized the moment and fought back. Debris rained down, making it hard to stand as the building shook again, this time even harder than the last. When he managed to climb off the soldier, the rest were dead barring their crew.

  “Miles.”

  “I’m here. Murphy?” He appeared off to his right through a cloud of concrete dust. The ground beneath the building was shaking as bombs rained down one after the other. Glass shattered and anything that wasn’t bolted down was torn away and sent hurtling through the air. “Go. GO!” Miles said, ushering them back out into the corridor they’d been in. They hurried for the exit door just as a single gunshot rang out. Miles looked back and saw August on the floor. At the far end of the corridor was a dust-covered Yong, coughing, and spluttering. “No!” Miles bellowed as he unleashed a flurry of rounds his way, cutting the general down then rushing toward August who was clutching his leg. “Murphy!” he bellowed as more gunfire ensued overhead. It was quickly dealt with by Keith and Jake.

  “Leave me,” August said to Miles, waving him off. “Get out of here.”

  Murphy hurried over as Miles slid an arm under August. “Help me get him out.”

  Murphy looked down at August with disdain. “Murphy!” Miles bellowed again. Reluctantly he scooped him up and the two of them carried him out of the building into the parking structure. The whole place was now shaking like a house of cards. They threw him into the Humvee and Jake got upfront to drive while the rest crammed themselves in. Within seconds, the accelerator pedal was crushed to the floor as they took off heading for the exit. Their bodies slammed against the insides of the Humvee as the vehicle swerved around the corners and down the slopes that would take them to ground level. All around them chunks of debris rained down, the multi-level parking structure threatening to collapse and crush them any second.

  The Humvee zipped out of the parking structure, hanging a right on South Federal Street, then west on Wells Drive, then right on South Clark, a road that had at one time been a one-way street. Jake swerved hard to avoid debris falling all around them. Ahead, a fissure split the road, streaking outward like lightning as the earth below opened wide. In the blackness of night, the air was alive, crackling with fire as bombs erupted in rapid succession all over the city, never letting up.

  “Can’t this go any faster!” Miles bellowed.

  “I’ve got it maxed out.”

  August shouted out directions as they made their way north to the Thompson Center.

  “Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Keith asked.

  August strained his neck to see from the rear. He nodded.

  Miles took a tourniquet and tied off his thigh then looked at his old friend. He was still having trouble coming to terms with him being his half-brother. He clutched his hand. “Hang in there.”

  Peering out through the windshield, it looked like they had entered hell. All around the buildings were collapsing, glass shattering, huge chunks of concrete raining down. The five-minute journey felt like an hour as they came close to death. If the PLA troops were out in this, they weren’t anywhere to be found. They saw a few military trucks heading the other way but no one stopped. No one would. This was the end for Chicago and if they didn’t get below ground soon, it would be the same for them.

  Under the direction of August, the Humvee soared onto the pavement, bumped its way over upheaved ground, and swerved to a stop outside an exit door that was held open by two huge cement blocks. Nearby two collaborators, friends of August, were waving him in. “We were about to leave you.”

  “Yeah, we got held up,” August replied. They hustled inside as debris rained down, one huge chunk taking out one of Murphy’s guys.

  “Steve!”

  “He’s gone, Murphy. Let’s go!”

  They followed the two collaborators as they led them into the belly of the Thompson Center and down to the Pedway. The network of tunnels had at one time been used by thousands as a connecting portal to skyscrapers, retail stores, and train stations throughout the business district. For most it was a leisurely jaunt beneath the Windy City, but not for them.

  “Move it!”

  All around debris continued to pummel the ground like a mine that was caving in. In the darkness of the building, flashlight beams danced on the wall, creating shadows as the collaborators ushered them through an unmarked door and down a series of steps into the bowels of Thompson Center. The noise above was muffled but it continued, as an endless slew of rubble clogged their path.

  Through one door, then the next, more stairs, each time they went down the noise became less dominant. With each blast from above, the walls shook, and small amounts of mortar between the bricks broke away. At some point Miles could no longer see any markings on the walls, any signs of government property, it was just old brickwork, aged lighting that no longer worked, and the steady sound of water sloshing beneath their boots and dripping around them. As they continued their descent, passing through rusted doors and sewage-filled tunnels, they eventually made their way into Chicago’s Deep Tunnel, a monolithic-size tube of concrete that went on for miles.

  “Where does this come out?” he asked, his voice echoing.

  August replied, “This one comes out at the McCook Reservoir. It’s to alleviate basement and street flooding from the heavy rains in the city.”

  He stumbled a little and Miles caught him. “Steady, old friend.”

  August met his gaze and gave him a pained expression. “You should have left me back there. I don’t deserve to survive.”

  “The war has brought out the worst in all of us, August.”

  “But Scarlett…”

  There was nothing he could say to that. It was beyond a tragedy. If he survived this wound he would carry that emotional scar and grief with him for a long time. They walked for miles as the U.S. military continued to pummel the city, reducing it to nothing more than rubble. Yong was gone, they could only hope the rest were too. They slowed a few times but never stopped seeking safety beyond the hell above.

  When they finally made it to the mouth of a 285-foot deep man-made quarry, they could once again hear the echo of bombs, though now they were far from the danger that had befallen the city.

  “We made it,” Murphy said, caked in dust, staring out then gazing back at the others.

  Miles smiled and looked at August. Much of the color in his skin had faded and he could barely keep his eyes open. They’d had to drag him the last stretch of the way. “Hang in there,” Miles said. “We’re a
lmost home.”

  Epilogue

  Four months later

  Florida, Missouri

  The enemy’s strategic decision to establish a ground zero, a base of operations in Chicago, had been their downfall. Expecting all of America to turncoat, well, that was just wishful thinking. They’d had a good run, he’d give them that. They might have even succeeded had it not been for the bravery of militia, and ordinary people like Miles.

  The trouble was they had underestimated the resilience of the American people, and their refusal to back down in the face of overwhelming odds. And for that, they suffered greatly. The war was drawn out for roughly five and a half years with a tremendous number of casualties on both sides. Ground was gained and lost, battles fought and won, but even in the nation’s darkest hour, courage was seen.

  After the Chicago bombings destroyed leadership, offshore military continued their assault, pushing inland and keeping constant pressure on the enemy. Without leadership, remaining troops, stragglers not caught in the Chicago attack, were like a snake without a head. Lost. Roaming endlessly in small groups. As news of America’s success spread far and wide through radio stations like Liberty Radio, the tide eventually turned. It could be felt. Seen in the faces of survivors. Cities, towns, and hamlets throughout the Midwest were won as the PLA and Russian troops turned tail, surrendered, or were killed by locals.

  “He’ll come around,” Miles’ father said.

  From the second story of the house, Miles looked toward the shore of Mark Twain Lake where August was standing in the morning sunshine. Since their return from Chicago four months ago, he’d fallen into a deep depression. While others celebrated every news report, he’d remained quiet, despondent. “He’s guilt-ridden from killing Scarlett, and for the role he played in this war. He expects to be treated as a war criminal and locked up, maybe even put to death.”