by Bobby Akart
Secretary Gregg sat a little taller in his chair and puffed out his chest.
“I’m gonna do more than ask them to stand down. I’m gonna ask them to stand with us!”
Chapter 29
November 27
The Governor’s Mansion
Austin, Texas
Defense Secretary Montgomery Gregg’s call caught the governor off guard. The first thing that went through her mind was the president had learned of her activities with regard to the border and was using Secretary Gregg to set the stage for her advisory team’s arrival. She surmised that Secretary Gregg was supposed to warm the governor to federal control of her state. After her chief of staff left her office, she nervously picked up the phone.
“Hello, Monty,” she said hesitantly to her old friend, whom she believed to be of the same political mindset.
“Marion, it has been a while, unfortunately. I’m going to dispense with the preliminaries and get right to the point.”
Great, this is worse than I thought. She decided to exude confidence. “Well, Monty, there is more to discuss than the weather and whether the mackerel are runnin’ along Matagorda.”
Monty laughed, which helped ease the tension. “Marion, I’m coming to Texas in the morning, with my wife and top aide.”
“Okay,” she said, drawing out the word. “I take it this is not a social call.”
“Marion, the president’s advance team will be arriving at your doorstep at any time,” he said before being interrupted.
“Monty, you said advance team. I thought these folks were advisors of some sort.”
“No, Marion. Make no mistake. This is an advance team sent by President Harman for a single purpose—taking over your state.”
“What?”
“You heard me correctly. The president and her precious advisors have every intention of stripping Texas of its assets and redistributing them throughout the country according to whom they deem needs help the most. In exchange, they plan on bussing in millions of people for you to watch over, feed, and coddle.”
“Monty, we can’t—”
“Nor will you, Marion. Now listen to me. There isn’t much time. When her people arrive, put on that welcome to Texas charm that you’re known for. Blow all the sunshine you have to. Give them countless hours of dog and pony shows. But you must give them as little information as possible.”
“Okay, I can do that. Monty, what’s the plan? I mean, you’re coming here with your wife, and Waller, I presume. And you may not know this, but I had a handwritten note delivered to me by Billy Yancey this morning. He’s back in Texas at his ranch outside Amarillo. This is not coincidental, is it?”
“I didn’t know Billy was going to reach out to you, but he’s good people, and I’ll speak with him tomorrow as well. This is much bigger than a social gathering of old friends, Marion.”
“You know where I stand on Texas and its sovereignty, Monty. I’ve been wrestling with a decision that has me torn between protecting fellow Texans and trying to help the rest of the country. I don’t know what the president has in mind, but we can’t do what you’ve just suggested.”
“Marion, I’ll just come out with it. It’s time for Texas to become a republic again. However, you can’t do it alone. You’re going to need an army, and I’m the cavalry that will help make that happen.”
“It’s hard to argue with that,” said the governor.
“Good. Upon my arrival, I’ll get a message to you. Find a place where we can meet unnoticed from even your closest people. We can’t trust anyone until everything is in place.”
“Monty, I look forward to seeing you. Let’s talk more tomorrow.”
They hung up without saying another word. She set the phone down on her desk and paced around the room, digesting the conversation. Then she stopped and looked at the flags that flanked the left and right side of her desk. She held her palm flat and raised it to obscure her vision of the United States flag so only the Texas flag was visible. She began to smile.
I’m going to have an army.
Chapter 30
November 27
The Sabine River Bridge
Interstate 10
Near Orange, Texas
The Sabine River had a storied history. The river was created by the confluence of three tributary forks in northeast Texas at the Louisiana border. It meandered untamed, as locals say, through the bayou country until it reached the Neches River and ultimately the Gulf of Mexico.
Prior to forming the Texas-Louisiana border, it acted as the border between the Republic of Texas and the United States. The Sabine River had been the subject of controversy since the Louisiana Purchase in 1803, as map makers consistently drew it incorrectly. Finally, in a treaty between Washington and the Republic of Texas in 1836, the center point of the river was identified, and the Sabine River began to serve as the western boundary of America.
Just three days ago, as many as fifty-five thousand vehicles crossed this bridge that connected the two states. Interstate 10 stretched from Los Angeles to Jacksonville and was one of three transcontinental interstate highways stretching from coast to coast. Now, the bridge was devoid of vehicles except for the Texas Highway Patrol cars blocking both the east- and westbound lanes at the crown of the Sabine River bridge.
The bridge, which rose nearly one hundred feet above the river, was not empty, however. Foot traffic was sparse, as the Louisiana State Police issued advisories to pedestrians that the bridge was closed, as was Texas.
Individuals who could show proof of Texas residency were allowed to pass through the checkpoint on the Louisiana side of the bridge, but others were not. On the morning of the third day, Governor John Bel Edwards ordered the state police to perform other duties. He was upset when he learned Texas was denying access to Louisiana refugees for the foreseeable future. His written communiques to Governor Burnett went unanswered, at which point he vowed to let Texas deal with the mass of people gathering in Louisiana who were seeking the oasis known as Texas.
Throughout the day, hundreds and then thousands of people began to gather at the checkpoint entering Texas. The Texas state troopers called for backup and immediately halted the processing of Texas residents until the situation was under control.
Chief Armando Smith of the Houston Police Department’s SWAT team was dispatched to the bridge. After making the two-hour trek, two dozen members of the tactical squad arrived in armored personnel carriers. In addition, two black armored water cannon trucks arrived to reinforce both the east- and westbound lanes.
The imposing vehicles were fully protected against ballistic, mine-blast and improvised explosive devices. Its fourteen-thousand-gallon water tank was capable of throwing a powerful, high-pressure water jet up to two hundred feet. They took up a position immediately behind the barriers, approximately forty feet from the growing crowd.
The Texas Army Guard leadership team in Austin was monitoring the events by radio, but delegated operational control to the state troopers and the Houston SWAT team commanders.
After the reinforcements arrived, the crowd was expected to disperse. However, their anger only grew in intensity. Those Texas residents attempting to get into the state shouted their frustration, hurling insults and profanities at the officers. The thousands of others from Louisiana and other nearby states demanded fairness. No single complaint could be discerned from another as the roar of hostilities rose to a crescendo.
Witnesses on the scene later recounted that a single gunshot was fired from somewhere at the back of the crowd, followed by another. The effect of the loud retort was to frighten the herd of people who were pressing against each other to cross into Texas. There were cries for help as women and children were forced to the concrete pavement and trampled.
The mass of people was about to overwhelm the HESCO barricades put in place by the Texas Guard. Made of collapsible wire mesh and filled with sand and dirt, these heavy defensive containers were used for flood control and military fort
ifications. The refugees were climbing on top of them to avoid the crush of the thousands of people pushing forward to avoid the gunfire.
When several young men scaled the barriers and began shouting with their arms raised in defiance, the commander of the Houston SWAT team gave the order. Inside the state-of-the-art command control system of the armored water cannons, two gunners opened fire, applying the full force of the water in the direction of the young men.
The first blast hit one young man in the chest, driving him twenty feet in the air and over the side of the bridge, over eighty feet to his death. The second powerful burst, which came from the other water cannon, struck its target high, causing the man’s face to be crushed into a torn mass of bloody flesh before ripping his head from his torso.
Shrieks of fear filled the air. The crowd panicked and attempted to run from the devastating blasts of the water cannons. In only a matter of seconds, the relentless high-pressure stream of water knocked bodies over, broke the limbs of others, and caused several to seek relief by taking their chances in the river.
On both sides of the bridge, people were diving to their deaths—arms flailing, bodies contorting in a feeble attempt to land feet first, only to break their backs when they hit the murky waters below.
It was a gruesome scene, a horror that would be replayed in the minds of everyone present for the rest of their lives. It also marked the moment when a line in the sand was drawn at the Texas border. The line came with a warning notice to all—Texas is closed.
PART FOUR
Monday, November 28
Chapter 31
November 28
Sinmi-do, North Korea
The comatose state—a fate that’s only comparable to death. Typically the result of a massive head injury, a coma created a profound state of unconsciousness from which a person cannot be awakened. The person was not brain dead, a condition where both conscious and cognitive functions have permanently ceased. Someone who was in a comatose state was completely unable to move or respond to their environment.
Duncan Armstrong couldn’t move, but he could sense his surroundings. I am alive!
He heard creaking floors, feet shuffling, and muted voices coming from above him. Duncan’s brain was temporarily confused as he struggled to regain full consciousness. His desire to rejoice in his survival was tamped down by his innate instinct to be careful.
He allowed his eyes to open ever so slightly in an attempt to survey his surroundings. A kerosene lantern flickered on a table in the corner of the room, drawing his attention. He dared not open his eyes further for fear that his awakened state might draw attention.
Sensing that he was covered by heavy blankets, Duncan took a risk and slowly, imperceptibly curled his toes. Everything was intact. He alternated flexing his quadricep muscles to confirm his legs were free from injury. Good. I can run.
The voices came into focus. Korean. His memory came back to him, slowly at first. He recalled falling and then floating. He’d been lifted upward, but not easily. It had been a struggle for the hands that hoisted him upward.
He barely moved his fingers, simulating typing on a keyboard. Then he flexed his biceps as he continued his self-diagnosis and inventory of his limbs. All body parts accounted for, sir!
Duncan couldn’t suppress a slight smile. Not only was he alive, but he was unrestrained.
“Abeoji! Ppalli wala! Budi!” shouted a young woman’s voice from behind him. Father, come quickly, please!
Her sudden outburst startled Duncan and his body shook slightly. There was no hiding his awakened state now. He had to make a decision. Play possum or try to escape. His mind raced as he struggled to regain full consciousness from the deep sleep he’d experienced. He analyzed what his mind could sense.
Dark basement. Single kerosene lamp on a table. No concrete, no steel, no block. A young woman standing vigil over him, alone.
He was not imprisoned. He was being treated, helped by unknown persons in a very foreign land.
“Kkaeda?” a voice asked as squeaky hinges revealed a door was being opened. Awake?
“Ye. Ye.”
More excited voices began to speak from the doorway. The man lumbered down the stairs and the door was closed behind him. Duncan couldn’t make out the number of people moving about the floor above him. Three, maybe four. His focus was now turned to the two people in the room.
His muscles tensed, prepared to pounce on any aggressor. Yet he still resisted the urge to reveal his fully conscious state. He listened and observed through his senses. One hostile move toward him and he’d fight without hesitation.
The man spoke again. “Yeong-eo.” English.
The voice of an angel whispered in his ear, soft and delicate. “Mister, I am Sook. My father is Chae. We help you.”
Decision time, Duncan thought. Everything he could discern from the last five minutes indicated she was telling the truth. Could he have been so lucky to have survived the fall and icy waters? Only to be rescued by locals at the fishing village on Sinmi-do by a family who, despite living in a nation where paranoia required reporting anything unusual to the authorities, nursed him back to health.
There is a God, but then, Duncan always knew that. He opened his eyes.
He opened his eyes and was shocked at what he saw.
Chapter 32
November 28
Joint Base San Antonio
802nd Mission Support Group
Lackland Air Force Base
Bexar County, Texas
Nearly one and a half million active-duty personnel for the five armed services were stationed within the borders of Texas. Of these service members, it was most likely to be a fellow Southerner in uniform than from any other state. For decades since the Vietnam War, recruiting efforts in the Northeast and most urban areas had been on the decline. Most enlistees came from Florida and Texas.
Not necessarily by design, but more as a result of fate, the lead commanders for the Army and Air Force in Texas were Texans. The commanders from Fort Bliss and Fort Hood were native Texans brought up through the ranks by then General Montgomery Gregg.
They’d pledged an oath to obey the Constitution, but they continued to follow the direction of Secretary of Defense Gregg. When they were summoned to Lackland Air Force Base to meet with Secretary Gregg, both commanders jumped at the opportunity. They were not told the nature of the meeting when contacted by Waller, only that it involved the most important decision of their career. They were also to use complete discretion regarding the confab.
Lackland Air Force Base in West San Antonio had been used following the EMP attack as the primary gateway for travelers from Washington to Texas. Part of Joint Base San Antonio, JBSA, commanded by another Gregg protégé, Lackland afforded the former general meeting facilities where he could gather his most trusted confidants to discuss his plans before he traveled to Austin to meet with Governor Burnett.
In addition to the commanders of Fort Bliss, Fort Hood, and JBSA, in attendance were his aide-de-camp, Waller, and Billy Yancey, who was unknown to the military leaders. Secretary Gregg considered omitting Yancey from the conversation, but as a specialist in regime change, which was arguably about to happen, he was adept at reading people. He was there to study the reactions of the military leaders and provide Secretary Gregg an honest assessment as they listened to his proposal.
“Gentlemen, this is going to be a very difficult conversation,” started Secretary Gregg. “I am going to lay out a proposal, a life-changing option for all of us, but one that I haven’t considered in haste.”
The military men looked at one another, and General Mickey Brooks, commander at Fort Hood, spoke on their behalf. “General, um, Mr. Secretary, excuse me. I—”
“No formalities today, my friends,” said Secretary Gregg. “We’ve been comrades-in-arms, red-blooded Texans, and friends for many years. In this room, right now, we are six old buddies trying to make a decision that’s best for our families, our fellow Texans, and p
ossibly the nation, although some may not see it that way.”
“Okay, Monty,” said General Brooks, looking to his fellow generals for acquiescence. They smiled and nodded. “In that light, let me speak for all of us in saying over the years, we’ve all hitched our wagons to the same horse. You, sir. No matter which direction this conversation goes, we’ll consider all options without judgment.”
“Good, that’s all I ask,” said Secretary Gregg. “Let me get right to the point. Our nation has been dealt a bad set of cards, to be true. By the same token, our president, and many before her, recklessly gambled with the lives and future of the American people. As a result, that dictator in North Korea, with the help of Iran, has stricken us down with a blow more devastating than most politicians were willing to acknowledge. America is on her knees, my friends, waiting for the final strike to take her down, if she doesn’t collapse on her own in the meantime.”
“Monty, we’re aware of the difficulties around the country,” said General Brooks. “Our limited contact with other base commanders reveal disjointed and conflicting orders from the administration. As the president turned over domestic deployment matters to Homeland Security, a move we deemed in contravention of your authority as Secretary of Defense, morale has suffered. Are we fighting to defend our country and attack those who brought this down upon us, or are we to become a police state?”
“I understand your frustration,” interjected Monty. “You can imagine mine. Gentlemen, I’ve left Washington for good. Although I haven’t formally resigned as Secretary of Defense, it is apparent that I’ve been cut out of the decision-making process, and most likely, I’m being set up as the scapegoat for the attack.”
“Sir, that’s ridiculous,” protested the Lackland base commander. “The Air Force has led the charge in warning the other branches of the military about the EMP threat, especially from Earth-orbiting satellites. I know you’ve advocated for stepping up our defense of this particular threat. It’s unfair to claim you haven’t done what’s necessary to protect the country.”