Uprising

by Chris Harris

  San Antonio, Texas

  Colonel Wong, a colonel in the Chinese Army, after the arrest of General Liu the day before, worried what his own future would hold. He had respected and admired his general, agreeing with his criticism of how the campaign had been waged and the decisions made by people with no military or tactical knowledge. He knew the charges against him were wholly made up and had no credence. His greatest fear was that as an ally of General Liu, he may be tarnished with the same brush and face similar accusations if he did not please his political masters.

  In the absence of Liu, he was ordered to continue to make sure the city was safe for the visiting dignitaries who had arrived for the surrender ceremony. The spate of bombings and unrest that were becoming a daily occurrence in some places must not be allowed to happen on such an important day. Given little time to organize he used all his skill to formulate a plan. Extra troops were called in from outlying areas to bolster the already strong city-based force.

  Concentrating most of the force in and around the area the ceremony was going to take place, he also placed large numbers of troops nearby in strategic places to act as a quick reaction force. All citizens were evacuated from the area and he put strict movement controls in place. In the short time he was given he was satisfied he had done a professional and comprehensive job.

  He was in a mobile control center set up close to the ceremony location when the missiles started to fall from the sky. The distant crump of high explosives told him something was wrong seconds before the calls started coming in over the comms.

  Before he could piece together the information, bursts of automatic gunfire close by told his instincts he probably had more urgent and closer problems to deal with.

  Stepping out of the mobile trailer he looked around in shock. Some soldiers guarding his unit were firing at paratroopers descending from the sky in large numbers, whilst the others were engaging some who had already landed. Rushing inside he grabbed a set of binoculars off a table and went back outside.

  It took him a few seconds to focus in on one of the descending bodies spiraling down as they tried to avoid the incoming fire. One look told him all he needed to know. “Fucking Russians,” he cursed as he dove back into the trailer, adding a long and offensive vitriol in his native Mandarin.

  His only objective was not his personal safety, but to get orders out to his area commanders to mobilize every unit he had to counter the threat. He spent a few seconds studying the large-scale map on the wall enabling him to formulate the orders. If he had known that those few seconds were all the time he had left in the world he would have spent them screaming orders down the radio.

  ***

  Corporal Sergei Ramius was one of the first on the ground. Since landing only moments before, he and his comrades had been pinned down by an unexpectedly large concentration of enemy soldiers pouring accurate and sustained fire in their direction. Returning fire, he noticed the corner of a large mobile unit with multiple aerials protruding from the roof poking out from the corner of a building.

  He shouted across to his sergeant who was firing from behind the cover of a large tree.

  “Dmitri. There is a command trailer just around the corner. If you keep the bastard’s heads down I can get into a better position to take the shot.”

  Sergei was their unit’s demolitions specialist. He carried, strapped across his back, an RPG-7D3, the version of the infamous weapon that was designed for airborne troops to utilize in the field. His relationship with the weapon bordered on the romantic and he lived for the times he could fire it.

  The sergeant acknowledged his understanding with a wave and bawled for the men within his hearing range to increase their rate of fire.

  The corporal took full advantage as the Chinese sheltered from the withering volume the paratroopers lay down. Crawling from cover to cover he cautiously peered around the car he was behind to check his position. He now had a good angle to take a shot at the trailer.

  Normally operating in two-man units, he had not seen his loader since the jump. He did not know it, but he had been killed in the descent by a well-aimed shot from a Chinese soldier. Unslinging the launcher and rucksack of additional warheads from his back, he assembled the rocket by screwing in the propellant charge to the warhead. Carefully but quickly he inserted the rocket into the launcher, making sure it was located correctly, and finally removed the safety cap on the fuse. The weapon was ready to fire.

  Risking another glance, he quickly worked out the trailer was roughly fifty meters away. An easy shot for most with an RPG, but Sergei was an expert capable of hitting targets far beyond the effective range of the weapon. Rising from cover with the weapon mounted on his shoulder and ready to fire all he needed was a moment to acquire the target and pull the trigger.

  As soon as he pulled the trigger he dropped back behind cover. He did not need to see if he had hit the target as he already knew he had. The rocket covered the distance in less than half a second.

  ***

  Colonel Wong picked up the handset to send out the orders that would flood the city with soldiers. Just as he depressed the transmit button the rocket pierced the side of the trailer and exploded, killing him and everyone inside instantly.

  Such is the hand of fate on a battlefield; if he had sent out the orders the Russian paratroopers would not have stood a chance and would have soon been overwhelmed, and Madeline Tanner would have been back in Chinese custody. As it was, no orders were sent to the commanders of the thousands of troops stationed all around the city, and they waited, listening to the sounds of battle raging a mere few miles away, but not daring to advance without orders. Thousands of Chinese soldiers, though, were already in the city, fighting the enemy that had dropped from the sky. They were fighting in units, advancing toward the nearest enemy soldiers. When the command trailer was destroyed, so was the ability to coordinate them into one cohesive force.

  ****

  Fen Shu was in a complete panic.

  Today was supposed to be her crowning glory. One that would send her career up to the stratosphere. She was going to be the person who delivered the United States of America, wrapped up and bundled in an official declaration of surrender to the People’s Republic of China.

  After this her power would increase to unimaginable levels. The misogynistic party leadership could no longer sneer at a mere woman daring to impose herself on a man’s world. She recognized that those who knew that she was the niece of the president thought she was only in her position because of him, and in a way, they were correct. It was to prove those old men who ruled the country with unlimited powers wrong why she drove herself and her ambitions forward continually. Hatching the plan to steal America and then using all her guile and skills to get the plan approved at the highest levels had taken her years of careful manipulating and maneuvering.

  China didn’t need to conquer the United States. Over the last few decades it virtually had without a shot being fired. Through unfair trade practices and downright cheating and stealing it had built up its industrial and manufacturing base: using its unlimited and very cheap labor force to work in the factories, producing goods far cheaper than anyone else could; ignoring every safety and environmental concern. They eventually dominated the world’s economy. The money that poured into the country was turned around and used to buy up assets and debt in all corners of the globe, until every government in the developed world was beholden to them.

  The United States of America was and always had been the thorn in their side. A true global superpower. Only they had the power and influence to challenge them in their desire to be the biggest and most powerful country on earth. It was like two bullies challenging each other in the playground with the weaker one never having the nerve to pick a fight they knew they couldn’t win. But this bully had hatched a plan to hurt its opponent and then attack when it was temporarily weakened.

  Dragging Madeline Tanner by the arm, she, along with her personal guard, had rushed into
a coffee shop as the unknown soldiers landed by parachute on the street outside. Moments before her phone had rung telling her unknown aircraft were approaching and missiles were falling from the sky, raining death and destruction wherever they hit. She still had the arrogance to not understand why anyone would have the audacity to attack them. Did they not know who they were dealing with?

  The fact that her plan had already caused millions of innocent people to die in the nuclear holocaust—not including those millions more who would die horribly, poisoned by the fallout—did not occur to her. Whoever was attacking them had no right to do so and she would ensure they were punished.

  Her security detail thought differently.

  They were loyal Chinese citizens, trusted with protecting the leaders of their nation. To get to such a position their loyalty would no doubt have been rigorously tested to the highest degree. Many tried, but only the best of the best made it.

  They feared Fen Shu but, to a man, they did not respect her. Having secured the coffee shop they had sought shelter in, they tried in vain to call for backup over their radios.

  The channel reserved for security officials for the higher ranks was full of others calling for assistance. Trying other channels, the story was the same. Every unit was either engaged with the enemy that had fallen from the skies or was requesting orders.

  Looking out the window made any thought of surrender vanish. They watched as an isolated squad of Chinese soldiers, caught out on the open, bravely tried to fight back. The trained eyes of the bodyguards could see the men were in a hopeless position, outnumbered and caught in an indefensible position by what could only be elite forces. They were picked off easily. The last three alive, with no other option left, surrendered.

  They did so without shame, they had fought bravely against insurmountable odds until the only choices left were death or surrender. Dropping their weapons and with hands raised they walked from what little cover they had utilized.

  The opposing soldiers broke cover too and approached them. Keeping tight squad formation, with the rest holding their weapons ready, still scanning for threats from all quadrants, two of the soldiers approached them giving the universal hand signals to get on the floor. As soon as they complied they raised their weapons and fired short controlled bursts at the prone soldiers, riddling them with bullets and killing them instantly. The bodyguards looked at each other. They would do their utmost to save Fen Shu, because in doing so they could save their own lives.

  Fen Shu knew she had to get away. She was still holding the biggest bargaining chip they possessed by the arm. Madeline Tanner had recovered from the shock at the unexpected turn of events. Soldiers had parachuted in and were killing the Chinese. She was in no doubt, they had to be American and they were here to save her.

  She looked at Fen Shu and yanked her arm free from her grip. “You bitch!” she screamed at her.

  Her shame and humiliation at being captured so easily, and the way she had been treated since, transformed into the rage that had been building up inside her. This woman had tried to manipulate her, and she had played along. She had been forced into surrendering her country because she wanted to help it. Its people needed the cure for the virus that Fen Shu had callously unleashed, and the price of that cure was the country. But she knew she was not the country. No God-fearing American would accept being ruled by a foreign power and she knew the surrender would not end it. They would fight back.

  Now she was going to fight back. Screaming swear words that would make a sailor blush she drew back her arm, bunched her fist and released all her anger into a punch that would have made a prizefighter proud.

  Fen’s head snapped back, and her nose exploded. The force of the punch propelled her light body across the tiled floor of the shop ending up in an unconscious heap against the serving counter. The guards turned and stared in shock at the sight of their principal sprawled unconscious on the floor. Madeline, toughened from years of verbal fighting as a politician, had also not got where she was without perfecting the ability to read people. The men in front of her, although armed and far stronger than her, were scared.

  And scared people always looked for a way out.

  She stood staring at the men crouching behind the low wall they had sought shelter behind that divided the shop. “It’s over, you have lost. Drop your weapons and get out.”

  She knew they understood her; they had given her commands in English when they had kept watch on her before. Madeline could see them wavering with indecision. She changed her tactic smoothly.

  She lowered her voice to a softer, more reasoning level. “You are not in uniform. If you lose your weapons and get out of here, you can hide. As soon as they have me I am sure they will withdraw. Don’t get yourselves killed over some stupid sense of loyalty. It’s over, at least try to save yourselves.” She looked and pointed theatrically out of the window. “They will be here soon. Go now, while you can.”

  The four men looked at each other. The lead agent stood up and faced Madeline. “We are sorry for the nuclear attacks,” one of them said apologetically, “that was not the honorable way to start this war. Please accept our apologies.” He issued a curt command in Mandarin to the others and they quickly obeyed, removing their side arms and laying the compact submachine guns they ordinarily carried concealed under their coats on a table. Without a word they filed through to the back of the shop. Madeline heard a door open and close and then she was alone. Alone apart from Agent Fen Shu who was starting to move as she came around from the knockout punch. Acting quickly Madeline picked up one of the handguns, checked it was safe, and slung one of the machine guns over her shoulder.

  She was familiar with firearms. Her husband, Steve, was a keen hunter. Though not a regular shooter, she had enough experience to know which end was the dangerous one and how not to hurt yourself or others when handling one. By the time Fen Shu was fully conscious, Madeline had used a power cord to bind her hands behind her back and her feet together. The first thing she saw when her eyes came into focus was her former prisoner crouching down next to her pointing a gun at her face.

  “Let me go. You will pay for this insolence. You American whore.”

  Madeline shoved the pistol into her mouth breaking two of her expensively maintained teeth off at the roots in the process. “Call me whore again, sweetie,” she said with an evil smile, “and I will start shooting your fingers off.”

  The sounds of firing still echoed around the offices and high-rises of the city. “Do you hear that? That is the sound of your failure. You may have won the first round, but did you think America was going to roll over and just give up? We are not a country full of peasants you can control by force. If that was the case the United States would have disappeared into history long ago. I was going to surrender the country to you to try and get the medical attention the people desperately needed. I was doing it for humanitarian reasons and not out of weakness. You just don’t understand why I would do that, do you?”

  Fen Shu screamed at her, her voice distorted by the broken teeth and blood pouring from her mouth and nose. “I will never surrender to you. You will have to kill me first.”

  Madeline laughed in her face. Something Fen Shu had not had happen to her since she was an orphan begging on the streets. She flashed back to that time long ago. The world was simple, all her and her brother needed to do was to get enough food to eat each day. It all changed suddenly when her brother was hit by a car and their situation was discovered. With no thought for sibling love the two were separated. Fen Shu never saw her brother again, despite using all the connections and influence she gained in later life after being adopted by a wealthy family.

  The only slim lead she ever had was that the orphanage her brother disappeared from was known to sell children to foreigners. It was illegal but tolerated by the authorities. One less child to look after saved them money after all, and if a rich foreigner wanted to pay good money for one, then more fool them.

  She
discovered that most of the children were sold to childless American couples desperate at any cost to have the chance to raise a child they could call their own. No records were ever kept and when staff at the orphanage were questioned no one remembered a single young boy from all the thousands they dealt with.

  Her only revenge was to have the manager, who was still in charge of the orphanage at that time, arrested and executed on trumped-up treason charges.

  No psychiatrist had ever treated Fen Shu. To even think of seeing one was a sign of weakness that if discovered would destroy your career. If she had been treated, her pathological hatred and need to destroy America could have been resolved in therapy. Fen Shu’s eyes flickered as the memory of her brother raced through her brain. She always hoped she would find him, she promised herself she would and now the reality hit her. She had not only failed in her mission to conquer America, she had failed on the promise she had made to herself to find her brother.

  She was suddenly unsure as to what failure hurt more.

  Madeline looked up, soldiers were approaching the coffee shop. A quick look showed they were not Chinese. She tucked the pistol into the waistband of her skirt and slowly approached the glass, her hands held out to show she was not holding a weapon.

  The soldiers saw her though the window and weapons were raised in her direction.

  Madeline looked at the soldiers in confusion. In her many years as a politician she had seen all sorts of military uniforms worn by all branches of the services, but these soldiers were wearing a uniform she didn’t recognize, and their weapons were different too. They had the distinctive curved magazine favored by Soviet troops. She knew enough that most had moved on from the ubiquitous AK-47 and they were called something else now, but she couldn’t remember.

  She paused, unsure what to do next. Two soldiers, still with their weapons pointed at her, entered the shop.

  “Hello. I’m Madeline Tanner, President of the United States of America. I think you may be looking for me.” One of the soldiers pulled a picture from a pocket on his trousers and compared the image to her. He broke into a grin and saluted speaking in heavily accented broken English. His voice sounded to her like a movie villain from the eighties.