Zaneta didn’t protest further. Eli didn’t argue at all. He merely obeyed. Come on; you’re embarrassing yourself! He didn’t care if this took a thousand tries. He would master this as best he could.
***
“Sorry about today,” Zaneta said.
“Don’t be, Zaneta. I wanted this, so I have to step it up.”
The waitress stopped by and brought them their food. A juicy bacon burger was Eli’s along with a humongous plate of fries with dipping sauce. Zaneta went with chili cheese nachos. Finally came the milkshakes.
Zaneta had ordered her favorite, a strawberry flavored with chocolate syrup and a cherry on top. Eli had gotten plain old vanilla, but she knew better. After a bite of his burger, he grabbed two fries. Both were dipped into his milkshake.
“Grosses me out every time,” she commented.
“Perfect combo of sweet and salty.”
Zaneta chuckled, playing with a few of her chips.
“Eli, you don’t have to do this.”
“You expect me just to go on pretending like none of this is happening? I can’t do that.”
“And you’re ready for this? I mean who knows how long you’ll be gone. Think of your sisters.”
Eli fondled the Rolex on his wrist. It had been a gift from his parents last Christmas. The watch was gorgeous, but the trinket was insignificant to the memories of that day. The youngest of his sisters, Marcela, had finally come home from the hospital that day. He was free of ambiguity.
“I am. That’s why I’m doing this. My father told me to ‘lead my sisters by example. Don’t be afraid to show them the path, especially in a world where no one else will.’ I don’t want them to grow up in a world where all of this is just accepted. They have to know we don’t have to take this.”
“I’m glad to have you with us then,” Zaneta said. “I don’t think it would’ve felt right without you.”
“Well, without me you wouldn’t have any friends so I guess you didn’t have a choice,” Eli joked.
“Uh-huh, like you’re the coolest guy in town. Still talking to whats-her-face?”
“Limairy? Not exactly…”
The two talked for hours in that diner, enjoying what would be among the last of their Milkshake Wednesdays.
***
Des Moines Corrective Center
Halsey, Pat, Gabby, and Neal were all thoroughly searched before entering the low risk-offenders’ visitor area. The actual visiting area itself was a cold room of grays. In it were metal round tables with metal chairs, all of which were bolted down. They were assigned a table and were instructed to sit.
They waited only a short while before the prisoner was brought to them. Those motherfuckers! Halsey thought.
Jacob was walked out with two UNR soldiers with him, his feet shackled as well as his wrists. These chains were then locked into place on the table. Jacob’s face was covered in bruises with a black eye to boot. His lip was also just barely starting to heal.
Halsey could see the young man wince in pain during every hug he received. Jacob couldn’t even extend his arms for a proper embrace.
Everyone sat quietly for a moment. It was Jacob who spoke first. His voice was mouse-like.
“Where’s Alex?” he asked.
“His parents wouldn’t let him come,” Neal said. Gabby was too horrified to say anything at first.
“And father?”
“He isn’t allowed to come,” Gabby informed him.
Jacob heard all this and started to cry. Halsey felt his blood boiling. Pat, the youngest of them, spoke next.
“They let me bring in this, Jacob. Probably a lot better than whatever shit they’re giving you in here.”
Patrick handed him a small candy, bite-sized. The rapper was shiny gold.
“Thanks, Pat.” Jacob took it and unwrapped it slowly. He savored the taste of the chocolate, its caramel center exquisite.
“Any other requests? Next time how about some jerky or maybe a pic of a model or something?”
“Just get me some pics of your mom, and we’re cool.”
Halsey smirked at the remark. The kid’s hangin’ there, even if it is by a thread. He stood from his seat and approached one of the guards who’d brought Jacob to the table. The soldier held an assault rifle.
“Sir, do you think you can direct me to the nearest vending machines?” Halsey asked him.
“Sure, it’s gonna be—” the soldier replied just as Halsey head-butted him dead in the nose.
Blood ran freely as he staggered backward. Before he could take in what was going on, Halsey elbowed him in the side of his head which sent him to the floor in a heap.
“Put your fucking hands up now!” the other soldier yelled as he ran over.
The kids panicked as he went for his pistol. Halsey got in close just as the guard was raising his gun. The captain grabbed onto the gun and twisted it downward with all his rage. As he’d planned, the guard’s trigger finger snapped in the process.
The guard tried to retain control of the gun, but Halsey twisted it to the right. His opponent cursed in a roar and went for his baton, but by then Halsey had taken the gun from his hand entirely. His right hand kept the soldier’s wrist in check while his left hand now held the pistol.
The guard kicked Halsey hard in the knee to get him off. It hurt like hell, but luckily it didn’t break. More importantly, Halsey still had the gun. The soldier swung his baton at the captain and Halsey delighted in striking him with the butt of the gun in the face.
Halsey managed to avoid another swing of the baton and landed a hard kick to the soldier’s chest. The blow sent him backward and his back collided with the metal table where Jacob and the others sat.
“Joe, what the hell are you doing?!” he heard Gabby yell, but he paid it no mind. The soldier on the ground struggled to get back up. He reached for his baton one last time, but Halsey scooped it up first.
He raised the weapon, only to feel thousands of volts going through his body. A soldier from behind had hit him with a Taser, and instantly his muscles were freezing up. The baton fell at his shoes. Another soldier strolled on over.
“Captain Halsey, don’t stop now! Come on!”
He swung his baton into the man’s ribs. Halsey hit the cold floor now, and the soldiers in the room all surrounded him for a slice. Most hit him on his arms and back, though one particularly ruthless soldier swatted him right below his left knee. Halsey did what he could to protect his head, but even so, he felt military jackboots coming down on his hands and fingers. More painful than all the hits were the sound of the children begging they stop. Leave him alone! He’s down already! Their voices got farther away, and he was sure they were being pulled out of the room.
Every other family in the room had their visiting hours cut short that day.
***
Calvert County, Maryland – September 22, 2050
In the same meeting room from days prior, the Crimson Angel lieutenants gathered. Julissa, Gael, Vivi, Jesse, and Ruby were all there. This time there was no table, no maps, and no photographs. Just these few soldiers in a dimly lit room.
“Are you absolutely sure?” Vivi asked.
“I cruised by his place twice,” Ruby said, struggling not to choke up, “but every time all I ever saw were PSID.”
“Any of them see you?” Julissa questioned.
“No,” she said faintly.
“And what about you? How many times have the PSID visited you?” Gael asked Julissa.
“Twice since the eighth, but not for a while now. I don’t think they know anything.”
“You hope,” said Jesse.
“I know what he did,” Gael said to them all. He exhaled loudly before he went on. “Not too long ago he told me he was going to visit Neeson’s kid at the Des Moines Corrective Center. I can only assume he did something in there to get himself in trouble.”
“What? He went there again?” Ruby said, now speaking a lot louder. Gael was caught off guard.
“Y-yeah…I thought he told you.”
Ruby didn’t say another word for the rest of their meeting.
“We should get more Intel before we continue our mission,” Jesse said.
“Put everything on hold? We can’t stop now!” Julissa argued. “Everything is already in motion!”
Gael nodded, but he spoke with much irritation in his voice.
“She’s right. If we let Herrera get shipped to UNR HQ, I highly doubt he’ll ever see the light of day again. There’s no busting anyone out of there.”
“So, we move forward with the op,” Vivi agreed.
“All right then, let’s do it,” Jesse said.
Julissa noticed Ruby hadn’t agreed to anything. Watching the two during that meeting days before, she understood their relationship. Even though it didn’t factor into the mission at all, and Julissa had some grievances against the man himself, she had no desire to discard her feelings.
“Vivi, do you think we can get in touch with local Crimson Angels there and have them keep working on what happened?”
Ruby perked up at that.
So, not all nails, after all, Vivi mused, “I’m sure we can handle that.”
“Good, it’s agreed then. Operation Trasimene will commence just as we planned.” Julissa said confidently.
Chapter 13 – Operation Trasimene
October 5, 2050 – Des Moines Corrective Center
The atrium for the work camp was spacious enough to accommodate roughly two hundred prisoners at a time. By now, snowflakes were descending from the sky but the prisoners appreciated it all the same. The atrium consisted of the main gym area which was a fenced rectangular area and then the outside area, which was nothing but a grass field with weeds and a few bald spots. Out in the field, Halsey and Neeson went toe to toe.
Jacob drowned out the chattering in the yard, his face a deep red. He came at Halsey with punch after punch, but the man consistently used parries to throw off each one. So far not a single punch had landed.
“You’re going to burn yourself out before you get anywhere,” Halsey critiqued.
Jacob merely kept on swinging. The only thing that had changed was that now he was attempting to dish out even more offense. He dumped more energy into moving faster, hoping more swings would yield more results.
He came at Halsey with a right jab. Joe used a side parry to throw him off. Only one way he’ll learn.
Joe went for a left hook while Jacob was wide open and delivered it to the side of his jaw. The kid stumbled, but he stayed on his feet. He even raised his arms to block another strike, but Halsey didn’t go for another.
“Come on! Let’s keep going!” Jacob yelled.
“You got gusto, boy, but Joe could’ve hit you at least twice more before you put your arms up to defend yourself.”
Halsey and Jacob turned to see a tall man with a group behind him. The man was bald, lanky, and had a welcoming smile. He was looking specifically at Halsey.
“Eric, Eric Dun,” Joe put together. “Jesus Christ, man.”
“I was gonna say, Cap’n! I mean, I know it’s been a while but come on!”
The two men shook hands before embracing, Jacob left in confusion.
“I heard someone mention a Halsey was in here, but I didn’t believe it for a second. Our captain in trouble with the law? No, sir!” Eric laughed.
“Yeah, well, I guess one day I forgot to tip the right the guy or something,” Joe replied.
There was a brief silence amongst them. All around them were the guard towers, always watching, but the closest soldiers were over one hundred feet away. Still, Eric spoke now in a subdued voice. His smile was gone.
“Hey, I don’t want to dig around, Joe, but I heard you know some people on the outside. People with muscle and drive. I just wanted to know if it was true. I have been rotting in here since last year, so it’d be the best news I’ve heard in a while.”
“Nah, man. People talk too much. I’ve been doing my part for the Honorable one since the beginning. I just want my old life back,” Halsey said earnestly.
Eric didn’t look like he believed this. He quickly hid his disappointment.
“Oh, all right. My mistake. I’ll…I’ll let you and the little man be. You ever need anything, though, you let me know,” Eric offered.
Halsey took his outstretched hand and brought him in close for another hug.
“Course, man, will do. You take care.”
As Eric’s group began to walk away, Jacob noticed a distinct sadness written on his face. He’d come over to them in search of something and hadn’t found it. He didn’t know what it was, but it was something that irked the man to his core. Both waited until Eric and his friends were back at work out equipment area before either one said anything.
“Where’d you meet him?” Jacob asked as he spoke first.
“Training, when I first joined up. After D.C., he quit the service and I stayed on.”
“Then what the hell, Joe? Why didn’t you tell him the truth?” the young man demanded.
Halsey stepped back and then sat on the ice-covered grass. Jacob paused before joining him but ultimately did so as well. When he did, he saw Joe was staring at the gym area and all the prisoners inside from a distance. He was watching them with the same scrutiny as the UNR soldiers in the watchtowers.
“In here we need to focus on staying alive, Jacob,” Halsey said. “That and nothing more for now. I haven’t seen Eric in six years, so I can’t possibly know what he’s been up to all this time.”
Jacob stared at his friend as if he were psychotic.
“What? You think he’s an informant or something?”
Halsey just shrugged. “I heard a lot about these prisons from Ruby. The warden has two ways of getting info from us: either he beats it out of whoever happens to know something or they find a guy who’s willing to make friends and report whatever they find to them. It’s best we keep our circle small.”
“But you know him?” Jacob persisted.
In that biting cold, he saw Halsey chew him out with a glare. He also saw now that they were casually lounging around, the captain was shivering a bit.
“I mean it, Jacob.”
The young Neeson nodded his consent, even though deep inside he didn’t want to believe in Halsey’s mistrust. Instead, he decided to play it off.
“I can never tell you’re from California until a little cold set in,” he laughed.
Halsey himself paused, but he then chuckled along with him. They both needed the moment, and so they took the rest of the recess period poking fun at each other like old times.
***
October 6, 2050 – Durango, Mexico
Durango was in northwestern Mexico, 545 miles from Elsa, Texas. At the heart of the city was “Catedral Basílica de Durango,” a huge cathedral of Corinthian columns. Surrounding the church were hundreds of UNR soldiers. They were in the streets and on rooftops of buildings all around. They were waiting for the sun, and it had come to grace them all finally. There was an eerie calm amongst them but then the cheering started. Cheering so loud it rattled windows.
The massive crowd began to clear the street, cramming the sidewalks even more so. Arriving in front of the cathedral were two Humvees, followed by a Heavy Expanded Mobility Tactical Truck. Trailing behind it were two more Humvees. All five of the vehicles parked out in front of the gates. Only one man emerged from one of the Humvees to enter the building.
Inside, there was no priest at the altar. It was Major Tipton. On the steps of the altar were six men and women on their knees with their hands cuffed. Behind them were UNR soldiers with their guns pointed down at them.
The major examined the lilies potted all over the main stage. They hadn’t been replaced or watered since the war had started and so now they had wilted. He removed his glove to feel one on his skin, but it crumbled to pieces. He heard the door to the main hall open and then close. After the heavy door had shut, the only sound was a pair
of boots walking.
“Sergeant O’Shea, right on time!” called out the major.
The young man saluted. “Greetings, Major Tipton!”
Tipton remained on top of the altar as they spoke.
“How was Mazatlán? Get a lot of pictures of the port?”
Pictures? thought O’Shea, we talking about the same Mazatlán?
“No, sir. Honestly, I was amazed there’s still so much resistance in the city.”
“There are pockets of resistance all over the country, Sergeant. Sometimes I think we jumped the gun initiating the Cuban campaign so shortly after this one.”
“I wouldn’t say so, sir.”
“Oh? Well, I’d love to discuss it sometime over a beer. I really would. For now, we take it one step at a time.”
Tipton walked down the steps of the altar toward the man at the far left of the six. Without warning, he kicked him dead in the face. The curly-haired male hit the floor and immediately tried to get up, only for the major to stomp down on his stomach. The other prisoners cowered, awaiting who would be next. Tipton knelt on his haunches next to his victim.
Despite the beating, the prisoner offered him a big smile. Crimson dripped steadily from his cut lip.
“I get the feeling you’re going to miss me, Major,” he said.
“Yeah, I think I am, Herrera,” Tipton said as he smiled right back.
He then punched the man dead center in the face.
“Will we be getting any air support, sir?”
Major Tipton chuckled before rising and speaking to his soldier.
“Lawson has sent much of the Air Force farther south, but I can spare an Osprey or two to cover you.”
“Getting to Francisco Sarabia International Airport should take less than three hours, sir. They’ll be back in time for breakfast.”
“Just be careful. Recently dissidents got their hands-on drones that they now send out from time to time. I need as many pilots as I can get for my bug hunts so hurry on back, ya got that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. I wish you the best of luck, Sergeant. And remember: we’re still trying to run a good PR campaign out here. You see anything noteworthy; it’s up to you to bring it on home.”
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