by Kyle Pratt
“We have information that the Chinese realize they will not be able to control the Pacific Northwest without a large scale military intervention and for now they are unwilling to make that effort.”
“The new congress didn’t support the treaty,” Caden said. “Any military action would be illegal and an act of war under international law.”
“Exactly. That is why they haven’t moved out of the port area they now control.”
Looking at Weston, Caden recalled the meeting in the parking lot where David stopped the Chinese expansion in the area and got his nose broken. “If the Chinese aren’t attempting to expand their sphere of influence, that would normally be good news, but you’re saying they’ve decided to help the terrorists.”
The Colonel and Weston both nodded.
“Most of the available army units are containing the Chinese.” The general made an arc around the port with his finger. “The remainder are staging here for an attack on the terrorists.”
“What do you need from me?”
“We need you, and your soldiers, in combat.”
* * *
Alone in the conference room Caden stared at the map. His orders were simple. Tomorrow they would establish a secure position for an ambush and then wait.
If all went well an army Stryker battalion would locate the Jihadists and push them toward Caden and his men. By the time the terrorists knew it was an ambush, they would be trapped in the crossfire. Death or surrender would be their only options.
He pulled the folded sheet of paper Sue had given him from his pocket and studied it. Looking at the large map on the table, he placed his index finger on the spot where his unit was ordered to deploy and used his thumb to mark Peter and Sue’s home. On the map the two points were just inches away from each other.
First Sergeant Fletcher walked in and stood on the far side of the table.
Reluctantly, Caden removed his hand.
“Is that where your brother lived?”
“Yes,” Caden said annoyed. “How did you know?”
“Lieutenant Brooks told me he lived in our op area and that you wanted to find out what you could.”
He stood silent for a moment. Brooks was trying to be helpful, he was sure of that, but he was still irritated. Finally he sighed. “We’ve been busy since we got here and I don’t want to endanger anyone else just because I want answers.”
“If you could get Brooks to his parent’s home would you do it?”
“Of course.”
“I have no idea how my daughters in Florida are doing, but if you could you would help me find out.”
Caden nodded.
Fletcher walked around the table. “Then sir, within our orders, there must be a way to get you to your brother’s house.”
An hour later they had a plan.
Caden looked over the route. “This could go wrong, so I want only volunteers with me when we head out.”
* * *
The next morning as the Humvee rumbled past two mangled and burned cars, Caden pulled the map from his pocket. Progress had been slower than he had hoped through the looted and littered neighborhoods, but they would still be in position ahead of time.
“Turn left,” Caden said. “Go up Hillcrest Boulevard.” He grasped the radio microphone as they rolled past a looted convenience store. Not one window remained intact. “Fletcher this is Westmore. The route is still clear no contact.”
“Westmore this is Fletcher. Roger.”
“Do you see anything?” Caden asked the gunner, Corporal Gilbert, on top of the vehicle.
“No, sir. All quiet.”
He looked over his shoulder to the young private behind him. “Do you see anything?”
“No, sir, but do you think we’ll get any action?” He asked with a bit too much enthusiasm.
“Maybe later today.”
The main street wound around a large modern church. Behind it was a broad parking lot and beyond that, on the right, the neighborhood was charred rubble.
Corporal Tyler looked back and forth as he drove the Humvee up the road. “The parking lot served as a fire break.”
I hope Peter’s house is still standing.
For the next several blocks no home survived on the right side of the road. All that remained were driveways, concrete steps, chimneys and charred wood. On the left homes were untouched by fire, but windows were broken, doors ajar. Furniture, lamps, pots and pans were scattered on the lawns. Garage doors were open, cars gone, but everything that remained was in disarray.
Gradually they drove up the slope of a large ridge. At the top, Hillcrest intersected a major thoroughfare.
The Humvee stopped.
Caden looked at Tyler.
“Sorry, it’s a habit,” He then proceeded across a road strewn with empty cars.
The EMP from the blast must have reached here. Caden updated his position with the convoy. “Still clear. No contact.” The rest of the unit would turn west down the highway, but Caden was now on a personal mission.
The land before them was flat, but in the distance were several blackened hills.
They were close now. Reaching the far side of the main road Tyler wove around abandoned cars. Caden checked each street sign as they passed. “Turn there,” he said pointing to the cul-de-sac on the right.
What will I find at Peter and Sue’s home? Caden shuddered as all that he had seen this morning flashed through his mind.
Tyler maneuvered around more abandoned cars.
He pointed. “There.” Caden’s gut twisted in a knot at the sight of a two-story peach home. The living room window was shattered. A car sat in the driveway with one door open. Trash and debris litter the area. What will I find inside?
Chapter Twenty Three
The Humvee pulled up to the curb. “Stay here. Keep watch,” Caden said. As he stepped onto the front porch, the smudge of a boot print was visible near the doorknob. A mild breeze brought a squeak from the door.
He placed one hand on his pistol and pushed the door open. “I’m Major Caden Westmore with the Washington Guard. If anyone is inside announce your presence.”
The living room was a tempest-tossed mess of papers, bottles, pans and broken furniture. Caden couldn’t recall what had been there, but he was certain there had been a couch and a TV.
He smirked. The television might have been a nice one, but it wasn’t EMP proof.
Hearing a noise in the kitchen, he crept that way. As he looked around the corner, a rat darted across a floor strewn with flatware and broken dishes. The fridge door was open. Within were a few containers growing mold in a variety of colors.
As Caden finished checking the first floor, his radio crackled.
“Westmore, this is Transport. Golf 181 reports sporadic gunfire north of their position.”
The driver of the Humvee has to tell me my men are hearing gunfire. He sighed. I should be with them. He turned towards the door. Don’t overreact. We’ve been hearing gunfire since we got here. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, Caden said, “Transport. Roger. Do you hear anything?”
“Westmore, this is Transport. Negative. This place is as quiet as a grave.”
“Transport. Roger. This shouldn’t take much longer. Advise me if anything changes. Over.”
Caden looked up the stairs. Let’s get this done. He bounded up the steps two at a time, but halted as the first waves assaulted his nostrils. His gut twisted in a knot. He knew that smell—the stench of death.
From his pocket he retrieved a cloth, poured water from his canteen on it, and held it to his nose with one hand. In the other hand he held the pistol,
Caden proceeded up the stairs. God, let it be an animal. At least not Peter.
He opened the door to the first bedroom. The room had been used as a storeroom and the smell was weak, but he searched it anyway, looking in the closest and under a bed with no sheets. As he expected he found nothing.
In the next room, the overall hue was blue, with wallpa
per showing friendly dinosaurs and sea creatures. Sue will need the playpen and other things, but how would I get them to the farm? When he was finished in that room he checked the bathroom off the hall, but found nothing.
“Westmore, this is Transport. The drone has sighted vehicles in the area. My guess is they heard the Humvee, like we thought they would, and now they’re searching for us. No contact yet.”
Caden stood at the door of the master bedroom. The smell came from inside. How many times had he seen death and smelled its grizzly scent? Reaching for the knob, he hesitated, but time was limited. What are the chances of it being Peter? Get this done and get out of here.
“Transport, this is Westmore. Roger. Nearly done.”
Pressing the cloth to his face he opened the door.
In the shock of that moment, the smell disappeared as he processed what he saw. Lying on the right side of the bed was a man in a police uniform. Caden could not recognize the body, but as he stepped closer the nametag told him all he needed to know.
“Hello, brother.” There was more that he wanted to say. If he had been part of Peter’s life…If he’d been there…close enough to help…things might have…would have, turned out differently. But the thoughts and words jumbled in his mind. “I’m sorry.”
Caden pressed transmit on his radio. “Send a body bag to the second floor. Then we’ll be leaving.”
On the nightstand was an empty pill bottle. He read the label, but learned little.
Seconds later someone ran into the house and started up the stairs. Progress slowed after a few steps. When the young private arrived at the bedroom door he dropped the bag and puked repeatedly in the hall.
The sound of engines and squealing tires caught his attention. Probably not good news. “Come on private. Open up the bag on the other side of the bed. We’re going to use the bedspread to lift him and set in it.”
The private, pale as the sheets, nodded.
The radio crackled. “Westmore this is Transport. Vehicles approaching. They’ve found us. Advise you return at once.”
Caden pulled the bedspread and flipped it over his brother.
The private moved the hand from his face and gagged. “He’s holding something.”
The lower part of his brother’s right hand stuck out from under the cover. In that hand was a plastic bag with folded paper in it.
Gunfire erupted.
Caden grabbed the plastic bag and put it in a pocket.
The private winced as shots hit the house and ricocheted.
The Humvee 50 caliber returned fire.
“I’ll take the bedspread at the head, you take it at the feet and we’ll slide him off the bed into the bag.”
The private nodded, winced, retched and grabbed the cover in one continuous motion.
“Westmore, this is Transport. Now would be a good time to go.”
Caden didn’t answer. He zipped the bag and pointed to the far end. “Grab it. Let’s move!”
As they came down the stairs, Caden spoke into his radio. “Transport this is Westmore. We’re coming out. Provide cover.”
The 50 cal fired continuously.
The private held the bag in one hand and opened the front door of the house with his free one.
The Humvee had moved closer to the house, blocking most angles of fire.
As the private stepped on the porch, he stumbled.
“Are you hit?” Caden shouted over the roar of fire.
Without answering, he regained his footing and raced to the vehicle, opened the door and jumped in pulling the body bag with him.
Caden followed into the front passenger side. “Go! Go! Go!”
The engine roared.
As the Humvee bounced onto the road, Caden scanned the route. Three vehicles blocked the end of the cul-de-sac. The black flag of jihad flew from one SUV.
From atop the Humvee, Gilbert fired steadily as six or more terrorists shot back from behind the cars. Shell casings jingled as they fell on and in the vehicle.
Two terrorists moved into flanking positions and fired.
Bullets pinged off the Humvee.
Caden spotted a man aiming a rocket propelled grenade.
“Left! Swerve left!”
The Humvee bounded up the curb and onto a lawn.
“Fire right,” Caden shouted.
The sound of gunfire, ricochets and brass was deafening.
Gilbert turned and unleashed a steady barrage at the terrorist with the RPG. Then he cursed and fell into the main compartment and onto Peter’s body.
Caden looked over his shoulder.
“Brace!” Tyler yelled.
The Humvee hit one car spinning it out of the way.
Caden slammed into his seatbelt.
An agonized scream came from outside.
As the Humvee continued to accelerate down the road, Caden turned to check on Gilbert.
Amazingly the corporal was moving Peter’s body into the back, out of the way.
“Are you okay?” Caden asked.
Gilbert put two fingers in bullet holes near his heart. “Thank God for Kevlar.”
“You’re going to have one heck of a bruise.” Caden sighed. “Have the medic check you when we rendezvous with Golf 181.”
Still smiling, Gilbert nodded.
Only then did Caden notice the young private was bleeding.
Turning to Gilbert, he said, “Corporal, I need you up there providing cover fire.”
The soldier gave a reluctant nod and climbed back into position.
The private was ghostly pale. Blood stained much of his torso and hip. “Where were you hit?”
“They’re following,” Gilbert yelled and fired.
Gently the private touched a spot high on his side.
Again, came the ping of ricochets and brass tingling as it fell from the gun.
“Is that the only place you’re hurt?”
He nodded. “I think so.”
Clumsily, Caden crawled into the back and finished moving his brother’s body out of the way. “I need to see the wound.”
The young man gritted his teeth and moaned, as Caden helped remove his bloody jacket. He thought he knew everyone in the unit, but not this young man. Glancing at his nametag he said, “What’s your first name, Private Conner?”
“Steve…Steven, sir.”
Finding a tear in the bloody shirt, Caden ripped it wider.
The young man winced.
“How long have you been with the unit?”
“I joined three weeks ago. I’m the newest guy they sent on the operation.”
After wiping some of the blood away, with gauze from the first aid kit, Caden got a good look at the wound. “Where are you from, Steve?”
“Hansen. I graduated from the high school last June.”
Caden showed the young man the wound in his side. It was a jagged cut, but only skin deep. “It almost missed you.” He wrapped and bandaged Conner’s chest. “Yesterday you were a boy from Hansen, a raw recruit. Today you’re a combat veteran.” He smiled. “Welcome to the club.”
Conner smiled as Caden finished applying the bandages.
“Keep pressure on the wound with your hand. The medics will look at it when we rejoin the unit in a minute or two.” Caden crawled back into the front seat and called over the radio. “Golf 181, this is Westmore. We are in route to your location, being pursued and under fire. Over.”
Fletcher’s voice came over the radio. “Roger. The welcome wagons will be ready.”
Looking straight ahead Tyler shouted, “We got problems.”
Caden had already seen it. Up ahead, three cars moved into position to block the road. “Go left through the strip mall.”
As they bounced through the parking lot, Caden reported the situation to Fletcher.
The Humvee bounced over a speed bump.
The private moaned.
Gilbert slammed to his left. “Hey Tyler, maybe I could aim if you didn’t hit everything.”
&nb
sp; “Hold on,” Tyler yelled and drove the Humvee off the curb and back onto the road.
Gilbert cursed and fired.
Over the radio came Fletcher’s calm voice. “Bravo 200 is approaching from the north where a drone has located a suspicious group.”
“Roger. If that group is not the target have them close on our position ASAP because I definitely have Jihadists on my tail.”
Gilbert collapsed into the back seat. Blood soaked his uniform.
“See what you can do for him,” Caden said to Conner and crawled toward the gun hatch.
Thunder reverberated through the Humvee.
The vehicle lurched left, then right, then flipped upside down.
Chapter Twenty Four
Out of the foggy darkness, Caden heard Fletcher’s voice. “We gotta go. Can you move?”
Gradually his eyes focused. There was a seat above him. Caden shook his head. The Humvee was upside down.
Fletcher, on his hands and knees, was half in and out where a window should have been.
Bullets pinged off the Humvee.
At the sound of cursing, Caden looked forward. Tyler hung upside and, using a knife, cut the seat belt.
Gilbert was sprawled nearby. A gaping wound to his head told Caden he was dead.
“Where’s Conner?”
“Outside providing cover.” Fletcher backed out of the Humvee. “Let’s get out of here.”
Tyler plopped down with more cursing.
Caden grabbed an M4 and crawled out. Bullets pinged and ricocheted around him.
Corporal Tyler followed, slapped a magazine into his rifle and, when a ricochet whipped by, said, “It was safer hanging upside down in the Humvee!”
“How many shooters?” Caden asked.
Fletcher fired. “Six maybe seven.”
The muzzle flash smacked Caden across his face. He turned and saw a man fall.
Conner fired from behind a nearby concrete barrier as terrorists attacked from his right.
After pulling his pistol from the holster, Caden fired at two others. “We need to get out of here. Where are the rest of the soldiers?”
“The army made contact…” Fletcher fired a three round burst. “…with the terrorists, but they hightailed it south, just like we expected.”