He had told Reverend Kray and the Squids that attacking with half or no trained troops was a recipe for disaster, but of course no one wanted to listen to him. Bunch of spaced out fanatics and idiots, that’s who were in charge. And now they were paying the price for not listening to reason.
Talbot and his group was approaching a small outpost on the southern Kansas border with Oklahoma at speed. A couple of militiamen took potshots at them as, coming from the opposite direction they expected for an attacking force, the Abrams and Bradley smashed through the road barriers and barbed wire, the SUVs right behind.
Ten minutes later, Talbot had his forces stop. Everyone got out and stretched, keeping a wary eye out for a pursuit, but none came. Apparently there were already too many targets to be had with the remains of his main force to worry about a small detachment fleeing. One of his Lieutenants approached him. “We need some fuel, boss. The tank is on fumes, the rest of the vehicles are not much better.”
Talbot grunted. “Get the two motorbikes down, send them out to scout around. There should be some abandoned buildings, vehicles that should have enough fuel in them to get us to Texas and the Gulf. Then we’ll be around friendlies.”
“Think the Squids will be pissed?” the man asked Talbot.
“Who cares? I warned them what was going to happen if there was any resistance at all. So, if they decide to eat me, who is going to do this next time? Reverend Kray? Yeah right.”
He reached into the SUV, grabbed a bottle of moonshine they had found. He took a swig, then passed it around.
“We’ll get out of this. If things go too bad, I’ve got some hidey holes we can go to. I don’t trust anyone when it come to my safety. Stick with me, we’ll make it.”
Talbot spit. “Now, find that gas. We need to get going.”
CHAPTER 20
MALMSTROM ALLIED FORCES BASE, MONTANA/
ROCK SPRINGS, WYOMING
Abigail and Ichiro planned to leave at o-dark-thirty on the second morning since her release. Major Rice had smoothed things over with General Reed about her condition, and then the General had called the Base and Hospital Commanders to smooth over the unconventional escape Abigail had made from her hospital room. Next he had contacted Ichiro personally, asking for a meeting in his office.
“Major, I know how close you and Captain Young are now, that you are engaged to be married. But you also must know of her possible problematic mental and emotional state.”
Ichiro Yamamoto had drawn himself up into a rigid straight back stance before the General. “General Reed. We have no secrets. And if you have talked with my Japanese Commanders, you will know that I can be said to have had similar problems during my youth.”
“I realize that, Ichiro. But…”
“Please allow me to continue, General. She and I have discussed what she remembers happening in Wyoming. I know, as she does, that more unpleasant memories may surface in the future. But, Sir, I am a Samurai. And she is my betrothed, my beloved. Those facts and my specialized training in controlling my destructive abilities make me the only person who can insure that Abigail is a productive member of the Allied Force.” The other Hero of Key West paused.
“I controlled my weaknesses, and delivered a nuclear bomb to our enemy. Then I led the survivors back here. Some of my schoolmates in Japan said I was a ticking time bomb, had too much pent up energy, and could not be trusted in normal society. That I was unclean.”
For the first time, General Reed heard and saw what Ichiro had been through. He saw that it was not that much different than Abigail. Except that someone had purposefully screwed with her physical makeup, while Ichiro’s “differences” were due to happenstance mutations. However, the same type of personal internal controls he had to learn were probably very similar to what Abigail Young would have to learn, internalize. So what better person to provide the necessary help to her than someone she loved with all her heart, and who loved her back the same.
Ichiro continued. “On my family honor, the Yamamoto name, I swear that Abigail Young will be safe. She will be safe toward others also. She will return here so that you may give her away as her now father on her wedding day. She has asked me to tell you that.”
General Reed stood there, silent. Shit. How could you argue with that? Besides, as the nearest thing to a diplomat Deseret had, the General would be hard pressed to justify not allowing her to return to her former home.
He stuck out his hand. “Deal.”
Ichiro paused for a moment, then stuck his hand out. “Deal.” The Japanese Officer had expected more of an argument, might have even had to ask his government for help in the matter. But that never materialized. Ichiro gave silent thanks to the fact none of that was necessary.
“So now, my good Major, you have said you will take care of my adopted daughter. Hell, she is like a daughter to the President also. So, you have just taken on a hellava task.”
For the first time, Ichiro smiled. “My ancestors will give me the strength to honor this commitment, General Reed. I will bring her back to be married here, at Great Falls and Malmstrom Base. To our home, our friends, our family.”
With that, Ichiro went to attention and saluted. The General returned it.
“Carry on, Major. I know you have a lot to do for this trip.”
“Yes General, and thank you.” Ichiro about-faced and left the General’s office.
Afterward, with the General alone in his office, he went and sat down behind his desk. From his right hand drawer he removed three items: a bottle of single malt scotch, a highball glass, and a photo of his wife and sons. He poured himself a drink and raised it in toast to the photograph of his loved ones.
“Well my loves, wherever you are, I’m developing a large adopted family here. Sons and daughters all over the place. But I think you’d all like each other. Here’s to a family reunion someday. Even if it’s in heaven.” He emptied his glass put the items back into his drawer. Then he began to hum a song, some old rock and roll ballad about hope and love. For once, things seemed to be looking up. The General decided to allow himself a good mood.
“Master Sergeant Johansson. I’m taking you out to lunch. That’s an order.”
It was now o-dark-thirty and Abigail was driving the new manufacture SUV with a smooth confidence of one with many hours of training and experience. Ichiro was a pilot, but Abigail was a driver. She had been taught in Deseret from an early age how to drive every military vehicle imaginable, as well as some law enforcement pursuit and protective detail tactical driving.
General Reed had given them the new vehicle, saying it was among the first batch of U.S.A. production vehicles in over six years. He had admonished them to “wring it out” and gave them a log book to record how it ran. But they both knew the General was just using this fiction as an excuse to justify giving them a new vehicle for what could be said was a primarily personal journey for answers.
They did not talk much, content to enjoy each other’s company and listening to the numerous local radio stations that had sprung up in the last year. Anyone who could throw together an AM or FM transmitter seemed to be broadcasting whatever music they could come up with, as well as locally produced information, opinion and religious based programs. Russian, Japanese, the Norse languages, even some Spanish broadcasts were spread all over the Unoccupied States.
Mixed in were propaganda and open broadcasts from the Tschaaa-controlled areas, as well as Feral originated stations. Finally, in both AM and FM bands, there was an increasing frequency of the clicking, squeaking, sometimes rumbling tones similar to Earthly whales and elephants that were the Tschaaa talking to each other. Abigail knew that some of her late mother’s people, Romanians, had traveled to the USA and were being used as monitors to try and figure out what the Tschaaa were talking about. As had been noticed before, Communications Security was not something the Tschaaa had ever considered important. There was also a minority theory that some Tschaaa without general access to their translators w
ere actually talking to the humans, hoping that they would someday understand Squid.
Abigail had called ahead to Rock Springs and the Bell’s Truck Stop, said they would be there to spend the night, if that was okay. Mother Jean had replied, “Family doesn’t ask. Of course you two can spend the night. Shannon already called, said you two were engaged. So I get to pick Ichiro apart, make sure he is good enough for my adopted daughter.”
Unseen over the telephone, Abigail had blushed brightly. How did everyone find out about what she was doing so quickly? Was she that important to so many people? She felt humbled by the attention. She explained all of this to Ichiro. He had patted and squeezed her arm.
“Abby, you are special to many people. That is because you are such a person of honor, of a good and caring spirit. People sense that. I have heard you refer to Torbin as a ‘good soul’. Well, compared to him and most others you are the “best” soul. If more people were like you, the world would be a better place.”
She had blushed again. “But with all my problems, my…violence…”
“That does not change who you are, in there.” He had touched her chest, over her heart.
“We will solve any other transitory problems together. Agreed, Abby-san?”
She looked at him. ”I do so love you. And I’m so very lucky to have you.”
“Yin and yang. Two halves that make a whole. That is who we are, my love. We are made for each other.”
The miles flew by and even using some of the minor roads rather than Interstate highways they reached Bell’s Truck Stop and Restaurant near Rock Springs by nightfall. They had brought extra jerry cans of fuel with them so they did not have to worry about finding refueling stations. Things were improving, but there were still gaps in some services on the various roads and highways. Mother Jean met them as they drove up, a happy smile on her face. As Abigail exited the driver’s side, she was on the receiving end of a large hug. Then she noticed that Jean Bell was crying.
“Please, Jean. There is no reason to cry. I’m here safe. I’m okay.”
Mother Jean tried to control her tears as her daughter Pamela, husband Calvin and a much grown son Jim came up to great the couple.
“Sorry, my dear. I just know you were almost lost to us. And I never had a chance to meet Sergeant Fuzz, your four legged friend. I know it must have hurt to have lost him.” She was wearing an apron, a usual piece of clothing for her, and she used it to wipe her eyes. Then Pamela demanded a hug.
“Ready for some more baking, Abigail?”
Abigail grinned. “Yes. I’ve been looking forward to it. Please let me introduce my fiancé, Major Ichiro Yamamoto.”
Calvin Bell stuck his hand out. “I understand you’re a fighter pilot. Well, this old bomber pilot won’t hold it against you.”
Ichiro smiled, knowing the rivalry that had existed since the beginning of the organized air services between bomber and fighter pilots. “Yes, Colonel Bell. I am a fighter pilot. But these days, I spend most of my time training warriors, soldiers.”
Son Jim chose that time to chime in. “You were with Major Torbin at Key West, weren’t you?”
“Yes, Sir, I was.”
“You launched the nuke at the Squids.”
“Yes, that is true.”
“Son, stop with the twenty questions.” Calvin broke in.” Give your adopted sister a hug.”
A slightly shy Jim gave Abigail a brotherly hug.
“My, you have grown, Jim,” Abigail opined. “And you are developing the muscles of a man, I can tell.” Her comment caused Jim to blush a bit.
“Well, mother, if you are going to get Abigail baking again, let me take the good Major here and entertain him. You drink beer?”
“Yes Sir. A lot more since I have been socializing with Major Bender.”
“Well, come with me. You too, Jim. I have some chilled bottles of a local brew that is an excellent Pilsner. Better than some of that old pre-Squid skunky stuff.”
The three men were soon sitting on the veranda in front of the restaurant portion of the Truck Stop. Though still cold winter weather, the three enjoyed both the beer and the nip in the air.
“My son Jim here will soon be eighteen, ready for military service. But I think he is going to stay around here, join the Wyoming Mounted Militia.”
“Yeah, Dad. After what happened in Kansas, the Krakens near Evanston, I would just as soon stay near for you and Mom.”
“Yes, Sir. Abigail told me about her earlier adventures her in Wyoming, before I knew her. She mentioned meeting the Mounted Militia.” Ichiro’s face displayed a bit of a frown.
“Abby also told me that a militia man helped to Medevac her. I must find this man, this Cheyenne Warrior, and thank him, as well as your daughter Shannon, the co-pilot of the helicopter.”
Cal Bell looked at Ichiro. “So she told you…what happened?”
“As much as she can remember. And I saw her at the hospital.” Ichiro’s face saddened.
“I was not very honorable there. I…left her by herself as I could not stand to see the state she was in, that she did not recognize her. I have asked her forgiveness for being so…weak. Not befitting a Samurai.”
Calvin Bell examined Ichiro with age experienced eyes. And saw a level of hurt and regret which came from a deep seated love and affection. “You really love Abigail, don’t you?”
“With all my heart and soul. And I swear to you, as part of her large adopted family, that I will never fail her again. I will die before that happens.”
The old bomber pilot put his hand on the Japanese warrior’s arm. “Son, no one is perfect. The important thing is that you love Abigail, and she loves you. Jean and I have had our rough times. But true love wins out. I see the way she looks at you that you are the ‘One’. Jim, listen up. When you find the ‘one’, don’t let her go. It may take a while to find her, like it did me with Mother, but it will happen. And Ichiro, you do not need to swear anything to me. I can see it in your eyes that you mean it. So please, quit beating yourself up. I think Key West showed you are far from weak.”
Ichiro made a small bow from his seat. “I value your experience and wisdom, Colonel Bell. I hope I can develop the same through my life. We Japanese honor our Elders. I thank you for giving me your advice.”
Cal Bell chuckled. “I can tell I need to loosen you up a bit, son. And I have just the thing to do it.” He made a quick glance toward the front door of the restaurant. Then rose from his seat and went to an old top opening soft drink machine from another bygone era. He reached down into its refrigerated innards, felt around, and then pulled a fifth sized bottle from its hiding place. Out came also three shot glasses.
“Jim, you are sworn to secrecy from this day forward. Consider this a coming of age rite.”
“My lips are sealed, Dad.”
“Good old locally produced moonshine, aged over a year in an old oak casket. Here, everyone gets a shot.” After pouring each a shot, Cal Bell held his up.
“I propose a toast. A toast to a new marriage, a new beginning. To eternal love, which will be the saving grace of us humans.” With that, they threw their drinks back.
“If I may request one more, Cal-san.”
“Sure, Ichiro. Here. I’ll pour.”
Again, the three raised their glasses, and Ichiro spoke. “To new friends, to new family. And, as you say, everlasting love.”
They downed these drinks also. Then they heard feminine laughter approaching. Quickly, Colonel Bell stashed the bottle and the glasses. The three women entered the veranda, and Jean Bell spoke.
“Come on in, gentlemen. We have some new bread and pies in the oven. And I have some spiced cider with a kick on the stove.” She looked at her husband.
“Been toasting, I see.”
“Now, mother, whatever gave you that idea.”
“How many years have we been married? Think you can keep a secret from me?”
Jean Bell looked at Abigail. “Your husband will try the same.
They never learn that special husband x-ray and mind-reading ability we wives have.”
With that Ichiro really looked at his love. He saw Abigail with an apron on, and white flour dusting on her arms and nose. And with a big happy grin on her face. He felt like he was falling in love with her all over again. He walked over to his betrothed and took Abigail’s hand in his own. He spoke in Japanese.
“You are the most beautiful woman in the world, my love. I pledge my life, my love to you forever.”
Abigail’s became a bit misty eyed as she answered in Japanese.
“I am your love. You are mine. That is at it should be. I will be yours, forever.”
They embraced, their entire universe became being wrapped in each other’s arms.
“I can’t understand Japanese,” Cal Bell said. “But I think I understand the language of love just fine.”
His wife Jean wiped her eyes with her apron.“Husband, father, get that moonshine out. With some more glasses. I think this moment requires another toast.”
“Or two,” daughter Pamela interjected.
“Or three,” son Jim opined.
“Keep this up, I’ll have to go find another bottle,” Cal said.
Later that night, Jean Bell started to make up a single bed for the couple. Ichiro had demurred. “Please, Ma’am. We are not married yet. I believe it would be proper to sleep apart.”
Mother Bell gave him a surprised look, then beamed a smile at both of them.
“May it be that your example rubs off on others. Old fashioned courting may help us reinstate some morality in a screwy world.”
So Ichiro had bunked in with Jim, and Abigail in with Pam. Ichiro was forced to give Jim an unclassified blow by blow version of what had happened at Key West. Jim would soon pass the story, with some exaggeration of course, onto his young friends in the area. Thus the Legend of Ichi began in earnest.
Pam had gossiped a bit with Abigail. “So Shannon helped get you home in one piece?”
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