by Bobby Akart
He looked over the bluff and found an area where rain had eroded away the soil. A tree had toppled over and exposed the roots near the bottom of the bluff. Duncan positioned the bodies carefully and dropped them on top of the tree, where they remained suspended fifteen feet in the air.
He hustled back up the hill and found Sook with two North Korean Type 58 rifles slung over her shoulders and his Barrett rifle in her hands.
Duncan couldn’t suppress his smile. With her short hair and smudged face, she looked like one of Kim’s million-man army. The difference was this girl was able to kill without hesitation. As they quietly retraced their steps back to Chae’s boat, Duncan wondered if she’d killed before.
PART SIX
Wednesday, November 30
Chapter 50
November 30
Raven Rock Mountain Complex
Liberty Township, Pennsylvania
“What?” President Harman was shouting at her chief of staff. It was just after midnight when she’d received word from the president’s advance team that Texas had passed legislation to secede from the United States. “Are they out of their minds? They can’t do that!”
Acton handed the president a manila envelope, which contained a letter from Governor, now acting-President, Marion Burnett of the Republic of Texas. Included was the resolution and legislation passed with eighty-two percent of the votes in the Texas State House.
Her hands shook as she read the letter. “Republic of Texas? That’s absurd. Right, Charles? Seriously, is this some kind of joke?”
“No, Madam President, I believe all of this has occurred in the last twelve hours.”
“Where were our people?” she asked. The president was incredulous. “Did she lock them up or something?”
“No, Madam President. The governor had them escorted away from Austin under the guise of displaying the state’s vast food storage resources to share with the rest of the nation. After what was reported to me as a wasted day traveling to El Paso, the governor ordered your team expelled.”
“What?!” she shouted. “Expelled? As in kicked out of the state?”
“No, ma’am. As they relayed it to our communications team, they were kicked out of the country—the Republic of Texas.”
President Harman wandered around the room and rubbed her temples. She found her way to a chair in the corner and plopped into it. She rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief.
“How could we miss this, Charles? The woman has spouted off about seceding for years. Of course she’s taking advantage of the crisis to further her goals.”
“Madam President, there was no way to anticipate her actions,” replied Acton. “You want to give every American, especially a political leader, the benefit of the doubt when it comes to a catastrophic event. It’s one thing to be under attack and then kicked while we’re down by our enemies. It’s another thing to be stabbed in the back by our fellow Americans.”
The president leaned back in the chair and rhythmically thumped the back of her head against the wall, symbolically trying to knock some sense into herself.
“Charles, I’m gonna need the AG and Carla Pickering in here. This can’t wait until morning.”
“I’ve already requested their presence, ma’am. Although, I instructed them to be here at half past the hour. I expected you’d need a moment alone.”
She chuckled and rolled her head on her neck. After standing, she found a window into a corridor, where she could see her reflection. Her eyes were sunken, and dark rings had formed. She hadn’t enjoyed a restful sleep since Thanksgiving night.
“Thank you, Charles. Please, before they arrive, what’s your honest assessment?”
Acton was philosophical in his response. “Lincoln faced a similar crisis situation. The country was being ripped apart over the issue of states’ rights, although slavery was principal among them. Foreign nations had continued to circle the relatively new nation and were considering support of the South, both economically and militarily. However, you have an additional challenge. Madam President, we’ve experienced five days without power in this country, and the results are horrifying. It is impossible to control and assist three hundred million people. I am beginning to believe the predictions of the EMP Commission to be true. Under these circumstances, without a herculean effort by the government, nearly ninety percent of Americans will die in the coming year.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Just bottom line it for me, Charles,” interrupted the president. “What are you suggesting?”
“Madam President, if you throw our military resources toward retaliating against North Korea, you are depriving the American people of much-needed protection and support. There are no courts in operation to challenge Governor Burnett and the Texas legislature’s actions. Even if you won, they might ignore the rulings.”
“Then what?” she asked.
“You would have to rectify the situation by force using our military. Once again, the other three hundred million Americans would suffer because of the distraction. So, to sum it up, while we fight Kim Jong-un, and perhaps the Russians and Chinese too, Americans will be dying. While we use our military strength to fight our own in Texas, Americans in the rest of the nation will be dying. You could win both of those fights only to learn that the American people died during the process.”
“Well, aren’t you full of great options,” said the president sarcastically. “All of this boils down to the proper use of our military resources. I guess we’ll need to take that up with Monty this evening. Have you notified him to meet with us also?”
“Madam President, he’s not available. I believe he’s still in Texas.”
“Wait. I understand he was going to deliver his wife home and then return immediately. Did something go wrong?”
“No, ma’am. He never came back.”
Chapter 51
November 30
Port of Piegan
United States Border Crossing
Carway, Alberta, Canada
Morales declared himself good to go although Cooper had his doubts. The Brazilian was tough, and the pain would never bother him. After speaking with Palmer early that morning as they broke camp, Cooper’s biggest concern was infection. Despite the near zero temperatures when they continued their ride south in the early morning hours, Morales continued to sweat.
He broached the subject with Pacheco, who was Morales’s closest friend. Pacheco was also aware of the potential complications of the gunshot wound, as he’d lost a cousin to a gunshot when he was a child. The two oldest guys agreed the best course of action was to get Morales to Great Falls, Montana, which was due south from their present location.
A bigger city would be more welcoming to refugees, they thought, and would be able to provide some sort of medical attention. Great Falls was at least a three-day ride without an injured rider. If Morales deteriorated, then it would take longer. It was, however, their only option.
It was early afternoon and the warm sun created a beautiful day to ride. Although the temperature never approached freezing, the sunshine melted the snow and provided their horses better footing. The combination lifted their spirits until they came across a group of riders who’d stopped to feed and water their horses.
Cooper dug his heels into his horse’s sides and rode ahead of the group while Pacheco and Riley readied their rifles. As Cooper approached, he saw that the riders were unarmed and appeared to be tired. He doubted that they’d seen a meal in a couple of days.
“How are y’all doin’?” he asked as he approached the group of three men and two women, all of whom appeared to be in their forties.
“We’ve seen better days,” one of the men responded. “Where you headed?”
Cooper told a white lie, although he wasn’t sure why. “South. My family has a place on the Colorado River.”
“Well, we were too,” said one of the women. “They were kicking people out of their homes in Fort Macleod, and we figured they’d
be after us next. So we gathered up these horses and headed south.”
“Why’d they kick folks out?”
The first gentleman responded, “They were Americans. The good people of Fort Macleod decided to blame all Americans for their troubles. We left before they took our horses from us.”
Cooper shrugged and decided not to pursue the matter further. He was glad to put Fort Macleod in the proverbial rearview mirror.
“All right then, y’all have a nice ride. I reckon we’ll see you on the other side of the border.”
Cooper pulled on his horse’s reins and started to return to his group when the man spoke up again.
“Maybe. Maybe not. There’s a three- or four-day wait to get into the country. You have to have two forms of identification and be processed by Customs and Border Patrol agents. They’ve set up a tent city outside the border-crossing facilities.”
Cooper gave them a puzzled look. “Three or four days to get across? That’s crazy.”
The man continued. “Yeah, everybody agrees, but they’ve got soldiers manning the post with automatic weapons. There was a rumor of a guy getting shot trying to push past the gates.”
“Well, thanks for the heads-up,” said Cooper, who once again attempted to leave.
“Oh, one more thing,” the man shouted after him. “Be prepared to turn over your weapons. They’re confiscating guns from everybody whether they’re granted admission into the country or not.”
Cooper waved his left arm in thanks and broke into a gallop back to his group. It didn’t matter what was happening at the border checkpoint. They were gonna find another way into the good old U S of A.
Chapter 52
November 30
Korea Bay
Fifty miles south of Dandong, North Korea
Big risks bring big rewards. In Duncan Armstrong’s case, failing to take the risk of traveling into the unknown likely meant death for himself and all of Sook’s family. As he rested the few hours in advance of their escape to South Korea, Duncan considered other options, all of which were horrible. His best chance of decent treatment was to escape into Russia, although like a fisherman who throws his catch back into the lake, it was likely the Russians would return him to the North Koreans. An escape into China would most likely result in his being used as a propaganda tool, only to be disowned by his own government.
He decided to take his chances, albeit with another life placed in his charge—Sook. Duncan made one last effort while they sailed south into the darkness of Korea Bay to convince Sook to remain home with her family. He laid out the risks. He tried to make her feel guilty. He encouraged her to remain in order to help her family and neighbors.
All of his arguments fell on deaf ears. Chae continued to sail his trawler south for a day of fishing, towing the whaler behind him. Sook interpreted Duncan’s words for her father, but his chin remained firm and his resolve steely. Chae’s daughter was escaping the prison known as North Korea for a better life. Duncan was her ticket to freedom.
“Father will tow us as far as he can with his available fuel. He must fish today, or he will face trouble tonight when he returns.”
“I understand,” said Duncan. “Sook, we don’t have a map, and our only means of navigation will be the shoreline. If we get too close, we’ll draw the scrutiny of patrol boats.”
“Father knows this. He has calculated the travel. His methods are crude, but they should be accurate.”
Chae pressed down on the throttle, causing the bow to rise slightly before planing over the surface of the water. Duncan turned to Sook as the faint lights of Sinmi-do began to disappear in the distance. A few tears began to stream down her face as she quietly murmured annyeong, goodbye.
Duncan gave her a hug and she sniffled. Duncan was a straight shooter, not a manipulator. He refused to use the emotional moment as a last-ditch opportunity to convince her that this trip was too dangerous. Instead, he comforted the girl who saved his life.
“Are you okay?” he asked finally.
“Yes, thank you. It is time to say goodbye. A new adventure awaits.”
“Sook, um, you know—” started Duncan before being interrupted.
“No, Duncan, my mind is made up and Father insists. I suspect he has planned this for me for many years. You are, as they say, my white knight in armor.”
Duncan laughed, drawing the attention of Chae. The older man took his eyes off the sea for a moment to smile and start laughing himself, completely unaware of the conversation.
“Okay, I’ll be your white knight. Now, tell me about your father’s calculations.”
“We have to get within the Northern Limit Line. This will place us out of the grasp of the patrol boats, I hope. The army is on high alert. They may stretch their tentacles into international waters and the Yellow Sea.”
The 1953 Armistice Agreement, which established a cessation of hostilities between North Korea and the United Nations Command following the Korean War, provided for a line of demarcation along the 38th parallel, effectively dividing the peninsula in two. However, an issue immediately arose regarding the territorial waters of the two nations.
North Korea insisted on a demarcation line from their shore of twelve nautical miles, beyond which the Yellow Sea would be considered international waters. The UN Command insisted upon three nautical miles.
Over time, the issue festered but not over ownership and the right to defend the disputed waters militarily, but rather over economic matters, especially the rights of fishermen. Presently, Pyongyang did not recognize the UN-dictated boundary and routinely sent their fishing boats, escorted by North Korean naval vessels, to the twelve-mile line and beyond. While the South did not attempt to challenge the fishing rights around Hwanghaenam-do, their patrol boats were very active in the area.
By heading in a south-southwesterly direction from Sinmi-do, Chae was skirting the twelve-mile boundary off the western shore of the Korean Peninsula. Sook explained to Duncan what would happen next.
“We do not have sufficient fuel to make it from Sinmi-do to the South without help. Very shortly, Father will stop the boat and we will be on our own. He has calculated the miles to clear the Hwanghaen peninsula, which places us beyond the Northern Limit Line and into international waters. This travel distance will require three fuel cans. When those cans are empty, we will switch to the remaining three fuel cans and change our direction to the east toward Incheon in the South.”
Duncan shook his head. In a world full of global-positioning satellites, talking watches, and maps that could be viewed in a multidimensional hologram, he was trusting his fate to the calculations of an old North Korean fisherman and the accuracy of plastic cans of gasoline.
You can’t make this stuff up.
Chapter 53
November 30
The Armstrong Ranch
Borden County, Texas
It was three in the morning when Major was awakened by pounding on the front door. He and Lucy simultaneously turned on their nightstand lamps and looked at one another to confirm what they’d heard. The pounding commenced once again followed by shouting. The Armstrongs never locked their front door, even after the apocalypse.
“Mr. Major! Miss Lucy! Come quick! There is a fire. Jose’s house is on fire!”
Major jumped out of bed and ran through the bedroom door to the railing overlooking the large family room and the foyer. “I’ll be down in a minute. Is he okay?”
“Yes,” replied one of his ranch hands. “He was on patrol. He saw the flames coming out of his window and rode to his house. Two men broke through the front door and ran away.”
“Which way did they go?” asked Major.
“Along the river toward the barnyard.”
“Major, we can’t let them get there,” Lucy pleaded as she got dressed. “If they’re vandals, they could destroy everything with a fire.”
Major heard his wife but issued directives to his hand. “Bring a truck around. Where’s Preacher?”
“He’s hunting down the men now.”
“Okay, go. I’ll be right down.”
Major quickly dressed and strapped on his holster. After kissing his wife, he bounded down the stairs and pulled a shotgun and a flashlight off the foyer coat rack.
“Lucy, I’m gonna have this man stay with you. I want you protected until we can catch these guys. Please lock all the doors and have your gun ready. There could be more than two.”
“I will. Please be careful!”
Major bolted outside and slammed the door behind him. The feed truck was ready for him, and Major quickly gave the young man instructions to make regular patrols around the perimeter of the house and around the barns. His instructions concerning engaging these men were simple.
If they’re unarmed, fire a warning shot until they comply with your orders. If they’re armed, shoot to kill without hesitation. We don’t risk our lives for trespassers.
It took less than five minutes to reach the barnyard. As he arrived, the buildings were all dark, which was not unusual for this time of night; however, agitated chickens were out of the norm.
The headlights on the old feed truck were weak, but they illuminated the hog pen and the adjacent small enclosed field where the chicken tractors were used. A chicken tractor was essentially a chicken coop on wheels, which allowed the chickens to forage freely across a certain area while protecting them from predators.
The hands would move the two chicken tractors across sections of pasture every day, which gave portions of the flock fresh vegetation to forage on. As the tractor was moved, the chickens left nitrogen- and phosphorus-filled manure behind them. The penned-in area was ideal for foals to graze.