by Robert Boren
“Good morning,” Conrad said, walking to them. “They’re on the move.”
“We saw,” Jorge said. “Still a long walk, though.”
“Indeed,” Conrad said, “and they walked about half the night. I expect them to stop for a little while. We’re still looking at more than a day before they can get here.”
“How’s the recruitment going?”
“We’ve got nearly three hundred thousand here now,” he said, “but the road is clogged, so they’re slowing some. Both I-8 and Old Highway 80 are backed up to Boulder Oaks towards the west, and to Ocotillo to the east. We’re weighing the possibility of having them leave their cars and walk in.”
“Boulder Oaks is over twenty miles from here, you know,” Doug said, “and if we do that, the backup will go even further. Our forces won’t get here in time.”
“What about Highway 94?” Jorge asked.
“They’ve got the pass about half-way cleared,” Conrad said, “but it’s going faster now. Time-wise they’re about three-quarters of the way done, from what my sources are telling me.”
“Look at the map,” Doug said. “That will just make the traffic backup worse.”
Jorge put the phone to his face, moving fingers around on the map. “Dude, you’re right. It dumps right onto Old Highway 80, at a spot we know is already gridlocked.”
“It is moving,” Conrad said, “but it’s moving too slow.”
“I was right,” Doug said. “We’re going to die here, but I’m ready. It’s where we make our stand. We’ll cut the enemy forces way back, so the number will be more manageable for the forces further north.”
“But the cars,” Jorge said.
Doug looked at him like he was nuts.
“What are we gonna drive on?” Doug asked. “The roads will be clogged. We’ll get stuck in traffic when the enemy comes over the border, and we’ll get picked off easily. Better to stay and fight them than to run when we’re gonna get killed anyway.”
Jorge sat down, his eyes showing panic. “I didn’t get it before.”
Conrad looked at both men, the harsh realization showing on his face. “This is our Alamo. Why didn’t I realize it before now?”
Doug chuckled. “Well, on the good side, they’ll build a monument here. People will remember. It’ll be a shrine.”
Conrad smiled. “That’s the best attitude we can have now.”
Jorge nodded in agreement, his expression melting into peaceful acceptance. “I wish we could get the damn Navy to start bombing these guys in Mexico. That would bring them down to a reasonable number in a hurry. Hell, might even end it completely. There’s no cover in that desert. The enemy are sitting ducks.”
“The brass are playing the long game,” Conrad said. “Why risk widening the war when they know we’ve got enough people to stop the invasion further north?”
“They should say to hell with it and attack Mexico anyway,” Doug said. “Hell, we’ve got half the US Army in Mexico right now.”
“Those forces are being driven by the coalition,” Conrad said, “with our phony federal government. That’s a globalist adventure. We should have every politician who agreed to that shot for treason.”
Conrad’s phone rang. He walked away with it to his ear.
“First time I’ve seen him scared, man,” Jorge said.
“Yeah. There’s got to be something we can do.”
“We’ve got nothing to do but wait and think,” Jorge said. “We’ve dug in as much as we can. Maybe we can come up with a plan.”
“Listen? Hear that?” Doug asked.
Jorge stopped talking, then his expression changed. “Crap, man, that sounds like a train.”
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Doug said. “You ever see trains on that track anymore?”
“Not for years,” Jorge said. “That line goes below the Mexican border, then back up. All the problems got it shut down.”
“Then we might have enemy here already,” Doug said. They both ran off the road to the tracks. Jorge put his ear to the rail.
“Yeah, it’s a train all right.”
“Let’s get our guns,” Doug said, rushing back towards their spot on the road.
“Wait, it might be our side, you know,” Jorge said, rushing after him. “It just dips into Mexico by TJ. The US Navy probably controls that whole area.”
“Better safe than sorry,” Doug said, picking up the M60 he’d been issued, loading the belt of ammo.
“Is that what I think it is?” Conrad asked, running over.
“Yeah, man, it’s a train,” Jorge said. “We’ll be able to see it in a minute. You think it’s our guys?”
“Nobody told me anything,” Conrad said, “but that’s not unusual.”
Four engines came into view, the train starting to slow as it approached.
Conrad got a huge grin on his face. “That’s ours. Look at the artillery on those flatbeds! That’s American stuff. Looks brand new!”
The train continued past them, a long freighter with twelve flatbeds, two artillery pieces on each, and a long row of boxcars behind it. It chugged to a stop, and a Marine officer jumped out of the first engine, followed by a couple staffers. They trotted over to where Conrad was, men leaving their positions to look.
“Who’s in charge here?” he asked in a loud voice.
Conrad stepped forward. “Nobody is officially,” he said. “I’ve been coordinating.”
“Name?”
“Conrad,” he said.
“I’m Lieutenant Colonel Meyers. We’d like to place these artillery pieces, but we need to do it in a hurry. There’s three more trains on the way.”
“Tell us how we can help,” Doug said.
“Yes, we’ll all lend a hand,” Jorge said.
The boxcar doors opened, Marines climbing out, filling the area towards the rear of the train, all of them with packs and weapons.
“Holy crap,” Conrad said. “How many men per boxcar?”
“With equipment and supplies, about sixty per car,” he said. “The other trains are all box cars – each have about 150.”
“How many men on this train?” Doug asked.
“Just over five thousand,” Meyers said. “I heard you’ve placed rows of claymore mines.”
“Yes sir,” Conrad said, “and we’ve done a considerable amount of digging in. Most of our men have top-shelf weapons now, too. M4s and M60s, plus RPGs and other nice toys. The number of enemy troops coming is a problem. You know that, right?”
“What’s the number of citizens here so far?” Meyers asked.
“We’re getting close to three hundred thousand, and there’s a lot more coming in on I-8, but the road is pretty clogged now. It’s slow going. Some of them won’t beat the enemy here.”
“These tracks cross I-8 to the east,” Jorge said. “We’ve got people stopped there too. Maybe we can get a whole bunch of people to drive off the road and get onto the boxcars – then we could ferry them over here. That would free the road up for more cars, too.”
“I like that idea,” Meyers said. “Last time I looked at these new apps, the enemy was thirty miles away. We’ve got about a day, and there’s more trains coming past these three. We’ll have at least nine total. Well trained Marines. Top notch.”
“We still won’t have enough, though,” Conrad said. “We’re talking just under ten thousand men per train if you can hold sixty per boxcar. There’s seven hundred thousand enemy fighters on the way.”
“We’ll soften them up a lot with this artillery,” Meyers said.
“Yeah, but I’ll bet we can’t use them until the enemy crosses the border,” Doug said, shaking his head.
Meyers smiled. “Yep, those were the orders from General Sessions.”
“Dammit,” Conrad said.
“That jackass left the country with some of the other traitors at the Pentagon,” Meyers said. “I think they know they’re about to get nailed. Screw them. We start shelling the enemy positions as soon as we can get th
ese pieces off the flatbeds.”
“Then let’s get them off the flatbeds,” Conrad said with a wide grin.
{13}
Southern Strategy
T he artillery pieces were off the flatbeds now, arrayed in a long row along Old Highway 80. Most of the fog had burned off, the desert heating up quickly, even though it was still before 8:00 AM. The empty train pulled forward on the tracks, heading east, as the next huge train pulled up in its place, Marines flooding out of the boxcars. Lieutenant Colonel Meyers directed placement of the men, and had a large team setting up mortars further back from the lines.
“We’re gonna pound the hell out of whoever survives the shelling, dude,” Jorge said.
“The enemy hasn’t budged yet this morning,” Doug said, looking at the apps.
“They’ll start moving soon,” Meyers said, walking to them, Conrad and several Marines following him. “We’ll be able to relieve everybody from claymore mine duty.”
“How?” Doug asked.
“Remote switches,” Meyers said. “You’re getting an upgrade. They’ll be touched off from that hill back there.”
“Good,” Jorge said. “Still want us on the k-rail here?”
“I suggest you dig in further back,” Meyers said. “We’ll put the Marines up front. They’ve trained for this.”
Jorge and Doug looked at each other, startled as the train bumped forward, now empty, the next one rolling in right behind it.
“We’ve got so many men now,” Jorge said. An ear-splitting boom went off, making him and Doug jump. Conrad chuckled, looking at Meyers, who was sporting a wide grin. He pulled some earplugs out of his pocket and put them in.
“You guys have these?” he asked.
“Nope,” Conrad said.
“We brought a lot of them,” Meyers said. “Go see the men at the table in front of my tent. Spread the word, okay?”
“Yes sir,” Doug said. The three men headed past the road, onto a flat stretch of ground about forty yards behind the k-rail, as more artillery shots went off behind them.
“That’s their wake-up call,” Jorge said. He pulled his phone out and looked at the apps. “Damn, dude, they’re scattering.”
“Hopefully a lot of them are dying,” Conrad said, turning to look at the southern horizon. “Look at the smoke. Maybe we hit some of their ammo.”
They got their ear plugs, Conrad scanning for a good place to dig in.
“See a likely spot?” Doug asked.
“Look at that ridge, right behind the train tracks,” Conrad said. “Set up over there, and tell all of your team. You know where they are?”
“All over,” Jorge said. “I’ll send them a broadcast text.”
“That would be good,” Conrad said. “See you guys in a while. I’m gonna go find my men. We’ll probably be close to you guys. There’s not going to be room up front for anybody but Marines.”
All the big guns were firing now, a round going off every thirty seconds.
“You think they’re going to keep coming?” Jorge asked. “They might flee back to the south.”
“I doubt it. Look at the app.”
Jorge refreshed his. “Yep, they’re spreading out wide.”
“That’s what I’d do. I’ll bet the first few rounds took out quite a few, because they were bunched together.”
“Think the artillery is that accurate? We can’t see them.”
“We know exactly where they are, because of the apps,” Doug said. “They probably had it dialed in with the first shot.”
***
Clem woke in the Dodge City Hotel as the sun from the window hit his face, his head pounding from the hangover.
“Whoa, haven’t had one of these for a while.” He sat up in bed, noticing that the doors between his room and Sarah’s were opened wide.
“Not feeling so good, huh?” Sarah asked from her room. “Me neither.”
Clem chuckled. “It’ll pass.”
She appeared in the doorway, standing in her nightgown. His eyes locked onto her, her form shadowed through the thin white cloth, thanks to the sun in her room. He looked away quickly, and she giggled.
“Sorry,” he said.
“Well at least I have something on,” she said. “Left my robe at the boarding house. I don’t mind, if you don’t.”
“I wouldn’t say that I mind, exactly,” he said, turning back towards her, then holding his head. “Ouch.”
“We’re quite a pair, aren’t we,” she said, walking towards his bed. “What time is it, anyway?”
Clem reached for the phone on his bedside table, careful to keep the covers well above his waist. “It’s only 8:30. Maybe we should sleep some more.”
She sat on the side of his bed, now the light of his own window revealing her. “I’ll stay in bed for a while. Move over.”
He looked at her, eyes questioning, face turning read.
“Oh, please,” she said, lifting the covers before he could protest and slipping inside. “I miss this the most.” She settled next to him.
“Sarah,” he whispered.
“We don’t have to do anything,” she said, “and I won’t look if you don’t want me too.”
He laughed nervously, then held his head again. “Geez. Every time I move my head.”
“Glad I didn’t drink as much as you did,” she said. “I’m not feeling that bad. Want me to get you some aspirin? I’ve got some in my purse.”
“Isn’t that at the boarding house?”
“No, it was in the bag I brought over,” she said, getting up, her eyes glancing under the covers. He noticed, and they locked eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t see much.”
Clem shrugged as she walked into her room, trying to keep his eyes off her, but losing the battle. She walked back in and he looked away again, raising a smirk on her face.
“Land sakes, I obviously don’t mind if you look,” she said, picking up a glass from the table next to his wash basin, filling it from the pitcher. She brought it over and handed him two aspirins. “This should help a little.”
He nodded as he took them, then laid down. She got back into bed, laying lightly against him. “Can we sleep a while longer? I like to spoon.”
“You sure that’s a good idea?” Clem asked.
She turned her back to him. “C’mon.”
“Okay,” he said, his heart pounding.
“Feels like you’re okay.”
“It won’t last,” he said. “Hasn’t for a while.”
“Don’t worry about that,” she said. “I think I’ll move from the boarding house into the next-door room, though, if you don’t mind.”
He chuckled. “I thought you’d want to move into this room, after this.”
She turned to him, smiling. “You want all the questions from our friends?”
He sighed. “No, not really. They’ll ask them anyway if you move over here.”
“No, they won’t. Everybody heard the fracas last night. Perfect excuse, if we’re not in the same room. After we’ve retired for the night, we can do whatever we want, you know.”
“Well, this does feel nice, anyway,” Clem said. “As long as you don’t expect too much.”
“I understand,” she said.
“My headache is almost gone.”
“The aspirin.”
“That’s only part of it.” He settled as she laid back on her side again. They drifted off to sleep.
***
Ji-Ho struggled to get out of bed. He checked his phone. Almost 10:00? Dammit.
There was a rap on the door. “Uncle, are you okay?”
“I fine,” Ji-Ho said as loud as he could muster.
“I’m coming in,” she said, opening the door. She walked to the bedroom and saw him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I be okay after I wake up a bit.”
“You need to be honest with me.” She sat down on the end of the bed. “I’m not blind, you know. This is happening more often.”
He looked a
t her, his eyes tearing up.
“Uncle,” she said softly. “You’re sick. What is it? Cancer?”
He sighed and shook his head yes, not looking at her.
“You act as if that’s something to be ashamed about.”
“I hide from you,” he said.
“You probably had your reasons. Does my auntie know?”
He nodded yes.
“How long do you have?”
“Doctor say one to three year,” he said. “I last a while yet. Just hard sometimes. Episodes.”
“Who else knows?”
“Jules, Tex, Ted, Sparky, Sam, and Ivan.”
“And they let you sign up for this?”
“I force issue,” he said, looking at her. “Dead soon anyway, why not fight for good? Fight for bad too many time in past. Maybe this erase some.”
Kaylee’s tears were running down her cheeks, and she shook as the sorrow took her. “Oh, Uncle.” They hugged, both crying.
“I sorry,” he said. “There more. Hang over me like death.”
“What? Is auntie okay?”
“Your mom and dad,” he said softly.
“Oh, God,” she said, turning away from him, sobbing uncontrollably. He let her go for a few minutes.
“What happened?” she asked, still turned away. He touched her shoulder and she shrugged it off.
“Enemy find,” he said. “My brother sent message before they took them. Asked me to protect you. Told me not to tell until things better. That why I gather you and friends at house.”
“Was he in on the war?” she asked.
“He was following North Korean nukes to terrorists,” Ji-Ho said. “Told government. Government had him killed, then go after me.”
She turned towards him, still crying. “You’ve been holding all of this to yourself. You should’ve told me before now. That’s too hard.”
“This hard,” Ji-Ho said.
“Trevor. I knew you thought he’d be good for me. You must’ve been desperate.”
“I was,” Ji-Ho said. “Lucky to find him. Please don’t hold against him.”
“I already knew you were matchmaking,” she said, looking at him with red eyes. “I told you to back off, remember?”
“You bonded now?” Ji-Ho asked.