Viral Resistance

by Robert Boren

  “Seth? Sorry to call late. It Ji-Ho.”

  “No problem,” Seth said. “What’s going on?”

  “I remember something Ivan told me about apps,” he said. “There is PC version. Much higher resolution than iOS or Android version. I talked to Ivan, he get permission from General Hogan to give to you. I send link. What email?”

  Seth read it out to him, and a couple seconds later, the mail app on his laptop dinged. He opened it.

  “Got it,” Seth said. “This will be helpful. I can set it up to run on my blog server.”

  “It secure?” Ji-Ho asked.

  “Yep, it’s very secure,” Seth said.

  “Okay, I leave you to it,” Ji-Ho said. “Have fun. See later.” The call ended.

  “Now this won’t be hinky anymore,” Seth said as he uploaded the software package to his blog server.

  “Where is this server?” Kaitlyn asked.

  “Outfit in Montana. I contract with them.”

  “Why does this make things less hinky?”

  “I can turn this thing on the remote server and schedule the information compilation,” Seth said. “It will run no matter where we are… actually it’ll keep going even if something happens to me, but I’ll need to give the rest of the team access.”

  “You’re going to be up for a while, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “Mind?”

  “No, do your thing. Wake me up when you get to bed, if you’re still in the mood.”

  “There’s always the morning,” Seth said.

  “True.” She got out of the booth and went into the bedroom, Seth getting back to work.

  ***

  Jules was behind the wheel of the battle wagon, the lead vehicle in the caravan, flying west on Highway 50 towards Folsom. Shelly was riding shotgun, Sparky and Dana sitting on the couch.

  “This facility isn’t that easy to get into,” Shelly said, brow furrowed as she looked at the GPS map on her phone. “There’s a couple roads in. There is a lot of dirt, though, to the north. Also looks like an abandoned quarry makes up the south boundary, but it’s mostly inside prison walls.”

  Sparky laughed. “Maybe that’s where they made the big rocks into the little rocks, back in the old days.”

  Dana chuckled and elbowed him.

  “That funny,” Jules said. “What’s to west?”

  “The American River,” Shelly said. “Natural boundary. I think these coaches will have to go up Folsom Prison Road. We should send the off-roaders in from the north.”

  “Are there gun towers?” Sparky asked. “Those off-roaders aren’t armored.”

  “It’s a little hard to tell,” she said. “Wait, yes, there is one, on the southeast corner of the wall, right by the main gate as you drive up on Folsom Prison Road. There’s also one north of that, and one in-between the main part of the prison and that quarry-looking place.”

  “So we pull up and shoot the first tower with M19,” Jules said. “Then continue down, hit the other one.”

  “This is a huge facility,” Shelly said. “Do we know where the state officials are being held? There’s a lot of buildings.”

  “Ivan say east facing cell blocks,” Jules said.

  “Mr. Black and Mr. White are going in first, right?” Sparky asked.

  “They’re going inside first, but we’re needed to poke holes in walls, and take out towers.”

  “This makes me nervous as hell,” Dana said.

  “We aren’t driving inside this dump, are we?” Sparky asked.

  “Not if I can help it,” Jules said. “That just where Saladin want us, no?”

  Sparky chuckled. “Yeah, you’ve got a point. I doubt if that cretin is even around now. Been following the attacks in San Francisco and Oakland, and they’re spreading fast. They’re on the way to losing Palo Alto now, too.”

  “Good, we shut down cash cow,” Jules said.

  “Get off at East Bidwell Street,” Shelly said. “Take that to Wales Drive. Then follow that around and get onto East Natoma. Prison Road is off that street. You’ll make a left.”

  “What then?” Sparky asked.

  “It’s an access road. Don’t see any gates or anything. We’ll take that past a huge parking lot, and then the first tower with the old gate is right there.”

  “There’s sign for Bidwell,” Jules said. “Two miles.”

  “I’d raise the guns as soon as we get on Prison Drive,” Sparky said, looking at his phone.

  “Yes, I agree,” Shelly said. “That tower is gonna come up fast. They might have some big guns.”

  “We should go in with our lights off,” Sparky said. “Take out the tower before you cross Ryan Parkway.”

  “Why?” Jules asked.

  “It’ll be tough for them to see us from there, but we should have a clear shot to the tower.”

  “Okay,” Jules said.

  “We should send the off-roaders in a different way,” Sparky said. “So they can come in from the north.”

  “I wouldn’t bother,” Shelly said. “There’s no easy way to avoid Prison Road, but it looks like there’s a lot of ways for them to get on the south side of the prison grounds, and to sneak around to the north side as well. That north wall has some buildings that don’t look like cell blocks to me, and we’d have to go through those.”

  “Don’t worry, off-roaders think on fly,” Jules said. “They’re there for diversion like us, to help Mr. White and Mr. Black come in with commando team. They can adjust course fast, unlike us in big rigs.”

  “There’s your turn, honey,” Shelly said. Jules nodded and took it, following Bidwell as it snaked through shopping areas and residential tracts.

  “Nice area,” Jules said.

  “Too hot,” Dana said. “I’ve been here in the summer before. Not great.”

  “Yeah, it can get a little warm here,” Sparky said. “See anybody around?”

  Jules shook his head. “Nope, dead so far.”

  Shelly glanced at Jules. “I’ll tell you when to turn your lights off.”

  “There’s some moon out tonight,” Sparky said. “I think we should shut them down now. Otherwise anybody in that parking lot will see us coming.”

  Jules reached for the headlight switch and turned them off. “No problem, I can drive. Plenty light, no?”

  “I’ll text the others,” Shelly said.

  The rumble of distant artillery floated to them, just as everybody’s phones dinged with a broadcast text.

  “Sutter’s Mill battle?” Jules asked.

  “Yep,” Sparky said, looking at his phone. “It’s on.”

  “There’s the parking lot,” Shelly said. “Might want to slow down, and raise the weapons.”

  “I do,” Jules said, flipping the switches. The sight came down in front of him. He pushed it to one side as he drove next to the parking lot. There were lights coming from the prison gate, barely in view. “There tower, see?”

  Machine gun fire hit the coach, scratching the bullet-proof glass on the front windshield.

  “Now I got you,” Jules said, pulling the sight over. He let several grenades fly, all of them hitting the tower, reducing it to rubble and stopping the gunfire.

  “Blast the gates and the wall!” Sparky shouted, as he got up and grabbed his M60.

  Shelly pulled the console tray out and manned the forward machine guns. “Look, cretins coming out the gate!” She opened fire, mowing the UN Peacekeepers down as they continued past the main gate, heading for the second tower. Jules fired at that, missing with the first shot but hitting with the second and third, blowing the top of the tower right off the wall. Then he aimed at the wall and started firing at one spot, blowing a hole in short order, then moving down further and doing the same in other spots. By then the other battle wagons were in place, firing their grenade launchers at the walls, breaking it in several spots. The off-roaders rolled in at high speed, spewing grenades and machine gun fire, chasing down several UN vans who were attempting to leave th
e area.

  “Okay, we go into siege mode here,” Jules said, getting to the far northeast corner of the wall, where the tower had been. He turned on siege mode, the armor plates coming down, covering the windshield and the wheels, as small arms fire pelted them from the east.

  “Enemy fighters over there in that huge warehouse,” Sparky yelled, moving to the passenger-side gun slits and firing at them with his M60. Jules fired with his mini gun, slicing holes in the corrugated metal walls, then firing grenades inside one after the other, men fleeing the building, right into Sparky’s M60, most of them hit before they got under cover. More rushed out, and other coaches opened fire on the men and the buildings. A couple small secondary explosions went off inside the warehouse.

  “Hey, there’s munitions in warehouse,” Jules shouted. “Text others. Let’s hit with salvo of grenades.” He aimed and fired the M19, sending grenade after grenade into the building, two other coaches behind him doing the same. Then there was a massive explosion, hitting the side of the coach, knocking it on the driver’s side and slamming it into the prison wall. Jules felt his head hit the side of the coach, then blacked out.

  ***

  “We go,” Mr. White said, glancing at Mr. Black, who nodded back at him. They rushed through the broken main gate, diving for cover as machine gun fire erupted from one of the out buildings. Several off-roaders roared through the gate, firing grenades, blowing that building up as the commando team rushed to the front door of the cell block.

  “Blow door,” Mr. Black said. One of his commandos rushed toward it, staggering as he was hit by gunfire from one of the windows above. Mr. White opened fire, hitting the Peacekeeper as a second commando rushed forward and picked up the plastic explosive. He got the charge set as the rest of the team covered him, then blew it, the door flying off its hinges. They rushed inside, small arms fire coming at them, the team diving for cover and returning fire, knocking out several Peacekeepers who were by the stairs.

  “You know where prisoners are,” Mr. White said. They hurried to the cell block, killing several more Peacekeepers who were guarding the door.

  “Blow door,” Mr. Black said. A commando ran over and placed the charge, and they all got back. The door blew open and they rushed in with guns at the ready.

  “Who are you?” asked a prisoner, an old gentleman with white hair.

  “We here to rescue you,” Mr. Black said.

  “Which side are you on?” asked another, a tall black man.

  “People of California,” Mr. Black said. “Ivan’s men.”

  “Who’s Ivan?” a third asked.

  Mr. White and Mr. Black looked at each other and smiled.

  “You get no news here, eh?” Mr. Black asked. “We resistance, taking California back from UN and Islamists. Come. We leave.”

  There was a massive explosion outside, shaking the building.

  “Uh oh, no like sound of that,” Mr. Black said.

  “C’mon, let’s get prisoners out of cells,” Mr. White said, looking at the group of commandos.

  “Where are you taking us?” the tall black man asked.

  “Back to your jobs,” Mr. White said.

  ***

  “Jules!” Shelly cried, shaking him, trying to get his seatbelt off. Sparky and Dana climbed over, walking on the wall to the front of the coach.

  “We need to get out of here before the gas tank gets hit with something.

  “It shielded,” Jules said, eyes fluttering open. “All okay?”

  “This thing is built like a frigging tank,” Sparky said. “C’mon, let’s get that door open.”

  “What happen to gunfire?” Jules asked.

  “It was done a few minutes ago,” Sparky said. “Just before you woke up.”

  There was hammering on the door. Sparky climbed over and unlocked it, helping to push it open. Tex stuck his head in.

  “Howdy, Partner. Ever considered getting into the rodeo?”

  Jules snickered. “Funny ha ha. Help us out.” He looked over at Shelly, who was on the verge of tears. “I okay, honey, really. Bump on head. Not bad.”

  Shelly eyed him. “We need to get you looked at right away.”

  “It’s okay,” Jules said.

  “She’s right, partner,” Tex said. “C’mon. The commando team already got the prisoners out of here.”

  “How?” Jules asked.

  “Prison buses,” Sparky said. “There were several in the back parking lot.”

  “How many men freed?”

  “About forty,” Tex said, “according to the text I got a few minutes ago.”

  “That’s not very many,” Shelly said.

  “Lots of officials were killed, from the sound of it,” Dana said. “C’mon.”

  “Yeah, we’ll take you home in our rig,” Tex said. “Let’s get all the guns, though, and the ammo for the mini gun and the M19.”

  They were out of the broken coach with the ammo and guns after a few minutes. Karen was pacing next to her rig, her eyes lighting up when she saw Tex walking over.

  “Nobody got hurt?” she asked, looking at the four passengers walking up.

  “Jules got knocked out for a few minutes,” Tex said. “C’mon, let’s get inside before some sniper takes a pot shot.”

  “Where other coaches?” Jules asked.

  “Already on their way home,” Karen said. “There’s still off-roaders around to escort us, just in case.”

  “That good, let’s go,” Jules said, helping Shelly up. Soon they were on their way, going south on Prison Road.

  ***

  Garrett and Anna woke up to a loud explosion.

  “Oh, crap,” Garrett said, jumping out of bed. “Check the app on your phone.” He looked out the window. A barn was on fire, and another mortar round came down in the pasture, about half way between there and the house. He could see his men running with their weapons towards the west side of the property. Machine gun fire erupted.

  “There’s nobody showing up on the apps,” Anna shouted. “Maybe it’s the UN.”

  “Crap, how many of those jerks are around here?” Garrett yelled as he headed for the door, his long rifle in hand. “Get down in the basement.”

  She nodded and followed him down the stairs. He went out the front door as she went into the basement. Another mortar round fell, closer to the house.

  Sid, Yvonne, and Tyler rolled up in a Jeep, jumping out with weapons.

  “They’re gonna hit the house if we don’t stop them fast,” Yvonne yelled.

  “I see them,” Sid said, running forward as machine gun fire started up from their position. He dropped to the dirt and aimed his M60, spraying lead at the mortar team, killing most of them, one sprinting away, only to be dropped by Yvonne with her sniper rifle.

  “Look at that van,” Tyler said, aiming the M60 at it. He fired, cutting into the side. Suddenly all their phones buzzed. “Holy crap, there’s Islamists with chips in there.”

  “Keep the pressure on,” Garrett yelled, firing his plains rifle as fast as he could load it, the massive .50 cal bullets smashing through the sides of the van. The Islamists were trying to escape out the side, but Sid was waiting in a better position, killing them as they tried to run to the nearby oak trees for cover. After a moment there were no more gunshots. Sam and Erica drove up to the house, Erica rushing into it with Mia. Sam ran over to Garrett and the others.

  “Where’s Mia?” Yvonne asked.

  “Anna texted Erica to bring her to the basement,” Sam said. “Looks like you got them. Let’s go see how they hid themselves.”

  “Looks to me like you were right,” Tyler said to Sid. “They’ve figured out how to shield their vehicles.”

  The group moved cautiously towards the van, passing the ruined mortar and the men lying around it.

  “Those are UN Peacekeepers,” Sam said, pointing to the bodies.

  “I’ll check them,” Tyler said, rushing over. There was a single gunshot, startling everybody. Tyler rejoined th
e group. “One was still breathing.”

  “Should have used a knife,” Garrett said as he led them to the van.

  Sid snuck to the side door and looked inside. “They’re all dead. Look at this. They lined the inside of the van with lead.”

  “The UN Peacekeepers were in the driver and passenger seat, since they don’t have chips,” Yvonne said. “And they brought the Islamists in the back. Why only these few? There might be more around.”

  “My guys are on patrol again,” Garrett said, slipping his phone back in his pocket. “This is kinda peculiar.”

  “It was a test,” Sam said. “We can expect a larger attack now, using this method. We need to have a meeting and figure out what we can do to protect ourselves.”

  “I think I understand why you like the living on the road option,” Sid said.

  {15}

  Acting Governor

  P eople on the main street of Dodge City hurried about to their jobs in the early morning light, as the leadership converged on the saloon for a meeting.

  “We all know what happened last night,” Garrett said, leaning against the bar, “and we all know that there are nearly two hundred thousand Islamists heading this way.”

  “Yep,” Trevor said. “They’re halfway between Mohave and Highway 395 at the moment. They’ll take that south, probably.”

  Sam looked at his phone. “They might take the far eastern route. Head for I-40, then take Highway 95 south. If I were them I’d be afraid of going through San Bernardino. Lots of patriots there.”

  “Good point,” Trevor said.

  “We need to get on social media and round up a whole lot of citizens, if they’re really sending two hundred thousand fighters our way,” Sid said.

  “Ivan working,” Ji-Ho said. “Just got text message. He knows what go on.”

  “How are we gonna protect ourselves here?” Justin asked.

  “Yeah, this area is big,” Ed said. “Too many square miles to cover.”

  “Maybe we try to find their shielded vehicles and destroy them,” Trevor said. A few people chuckled.