United We Stand_A Post-Apocalyptic Novel of America's Coming Civil War

by Mark Goodwin

  He looked up and gazed into her eyes. “But if we lose, if the Alliance falls, we won’t have any semblance of a life together anyway. We’ll be slaves. And I’d rather die than live in bondage.”

  “Where will your team go when it’s time to leave?”

  “We’ll meet up with other militia members at the Tulsa Air National Guard Base. They’ll give us a lift to wherever we’re going.”

  “You’ll send me a text every night to let me know you’re still alive?”

  “When I have service. Remember, Markovich will use every trick in the book to disrupt communications. So, if you don’t hear from me for a few days, it doesn’t mean anything is wrong.”

  She frowned. “It doesn’t mean everything is okay either. Text me as often as you can.”

  “I will.” He nodded. “I promise.”

  A gentle rap came to the bedroom door followed by Charity’s soft voice. “Hey, guys. You wanted me to let you know when the Patriot News Network started their five o’clock evening broadcast. It’s on.”

  “Thanks, we’ll be right out,” Ava replied.

  Foley leaned his rucksack in the corner. “I’ll finish packing later.”

  Ava stood up and led the way to the living room. “Come on, Buck.”

  Ulysses came in the back door through the kitchen to join the others for the nightly news program. He leaned heavily on his cane.

  “You doing okay, Dad?” Ava watched him press against the walking stick.

  “I’m fine. I might have overdone it in the garden. I think it’s atrophy from not moving much since I was shot. Getting out there and digging around in the soil is probably the best thing for me.”

  Ava felt guilty for even thinking it, but she couldn’t help but feel some sense of relief that Ulysses, in his present compromised state, wouldn’t be running off to battle. She plopped down on the couch next to Foley. Charity sat on the loveseat by herself, while Ulysses took the easy chair, propping up his leg on the foot rest.

  The reporter for the Patriot News Network had already begun the broadcast. “Regime forces out of Denver launched a three-pronged attack early this morning. Ground troops crossed the border into Utah, pushing local militias and Alliance border patrols back to Provo. Thirty-four citizens of the Alliance States were killed in the assault before regime forces were repelled by air support.

  “A separate group of SJL fighters crossed into Wyoming, penetrating to just outside of Cheyenne where they fired a barrage of artillery shells into the city. Alliance ground troops stationed at Francis E. Warren Air Force Base were able to push the SJL fighters back with the help of combat helicopters from the airbase, but not before significant loss of life and property. Several large buildings were damaged beyond repair by the shelling and casualties are estimated to be in the hundreds from the attack.

  “The third action was taken against Ogallala, Nebraska, where regime forces sent an overwhelming number of ground troops, armored vehicles, and military supplies. Regime forces have taken the town and are embedded amongst the surviving residents. Markovich appeared today on multiple mainstream media stations which have been complicit in his communist overthrow of the country from the beginning. In his interviews, he stated that Ogallala was the first step in reclaiming Nebraska and bringing the state under regime control.

  “In actuality, Ogallala is a town of less than five thousand, so taking it by no means equates to taking the entire state of Nebraska. However, Nebraska is a critical state to the Alliance because it connects geographically Kansas and Oklahoma to the northern Alliance States. If Markovich were somehow able to take Nebraska, Kansas and Oklahoma would be prime targets.”

  Ava put her hand on Foley’s knee. “Do you think this is it? The big attack that the militia has been talking about?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. The regime didn’t take any ground except Ogallala. This smells like a classic fake. I bet Markovich is going to try to draw the Alliance into Nebraska for a supposed ultimate contest, all the while, directing the majority of his forces somewhere else for the real battle.

  “But the reporter is right. Blackwell can’t sit back and do nothing about Ogallala. He has to engage the regime there.”

  Ulysses added, “I agree, this is a red herring. I’m sure Blackwell is smart enough to not fall into the trap.”

  The reporter continued his presentation. “Acting President Blackwell is making one last call to Alliance citizens to give whatever they can to help support the masses of Christians and conservatives who have flooded in to seek refuge. Alliance relief centers have not lost anyone to starvation yet, but many refugees are malnourished and living on a single meal a day. While the Alliance is positioned to produce massive amounts of excess crops in the coming season, this past winter has been rough.

  “Supply lines have been shut down and the Alliance States are cut off from all available seaports. The country has been forced to survive with what we have on hand. Knowing that we need to be self-sufficient, the Alliance will be able to build sufficient reserves in the coming growing season, but obviously, very few of us understood the suddenness or severity of this conflict.

  “Canada’s claim to remain neutral in the conflict has come under question by Acting-President Blackwell since they have been unwilling to trade with the Alliance or even allow goods to be transported across the northern borders of Idaho, Montana, or North Dakota. Canada’s Prime Minister has assured Acting-President Blackwell that the regime-controlled states are being treated the same, but since Markovich controls the east and west coasts, the consequences are not nearly so severe.

  “The UN is recognizing Markovich as the legitimate president, despite undeniable evidence that the outcome of the election would have been in Ross’ favor, had it not been for the intimidation tactics against Ross supporters by Antifa and the Social Justice Warriors League.

  “The Alliance Press Secretary Jim Wright gave an interview to the Patriot Times this morning where he stated that the administration is not surprised that the UN is siding with Markovich since they essentially share the same far-left communist agenda. He went on to comment on how unfortunate it is that the EU and most of America’s allies will follow the lead of the UN in failing to recognize the Alliance States. Thus far, Israel has been the only country to break ranks with the UN in formally acknowledging the Alliance States as a valid power, although they have not gone so far as to offer military nor humanitarian support.

  “Thank you for joining us for this broadcast. The Patriot News Network reminds you to keep our service men and women in prayer. Since we are considered to be a pariah on the world stage, if we are to prevail in this conflict, it can only be through God’s providence. Take care of yourselves and each other, America. Godspeed and God bless.”

  Ava clicked off the television. “We’ve still got an hour before sunset. What else needs to be done in the garden, Dad?”

  “Not much. You could plant some more tomatoes, peppers, cabbage, and cucumbers in the starter trays. But they need to stay on the back porch. We’re not out of the woods for frost just yet. By the time they need to be transplanted, we’ll be in the clear.”

  “Okay, I’ll take care of that. Foley, do you want to give me a hand?”

  “Sure.” He stood up with Ava.

  “I’ll get dinner started,” Charity said.

  “Thanks.” Ava turned to the dog. “Buck, you make sure Dad stays off his bum leg. We’ll be right back.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.

  1 Corinthians 13:4-8a

  Before daybreak Friday morning, Ava awoke to the sound of knocking on her bedroom door.

  “Foley?” Ulysses' voice called from the other
side.

  “Yeah,” he replied groggily.

  “Militia commander is on the Ham radio for you.”

  “Be right there.” He slowly eased out of the bed.

  “What do you think it is?” Ava knew it was most likely the dreaded call that would steal her husband away from her and into the arms of his fearsome mistress, war. Yet she hoped against hope the summons could have another interpretation.

  Foley pulled on his jeans. “I don’t know. I’ll tell you after I speak with the commander.”

  He was being gentle. Ava knew that Foley saw no ambiguities in the purpose of the pre-dawn communiqué.

  Ava sat upright in bed, awaiting his return. Minutes later, Foley came back and took a seat beside her. Ava’s heart sank before he began speaking.

  “We’ve gotta move out. Markovich invaded Liberty and Idaho. They think he used Seattle as a base to launch an attack against Liberty. Armored vehicles are outside of Spokane right now. The commander said it’s a pretty heated battle. But the real problem is in Boise.”

  “That’s Blackwell’s base of operations!” Ava’s forehead puckered. “What’s happening there?”

  “Supposedly, the administration has been evacuated. They’ve taken Blackwell to an undisclosed location, Montana probably. But Markovich hit Boise with an overwhelming force. The commander thinks he initiated that movement out of Portland. The regime would have had a large pool of new recruits considering Antifa’s popularity in Portland. If he minimized his training and induction process for new soldiers, Markovich would have been able to keep a very small footprint for troop movements in preparation for the attack.”

  Ava twirled the edge of the sheet between her fingers. “I guess you were right about what you said yesterday. The attacks out of Denver, they were just a smoke screen.”

  “Yeah.” Foley hugged her tightly. “But I need to get going. My ride will be here in fifteen minutes.”

  “Fifteen minutes? I won’t even have time to say goodbye!”

  “Then don’t say it. Just say see ya later.” He kissed her on the forehead. “I’ll be back—soon.”

  Ava’s eyes were still puffy from sleep. “I’m coming with you. I can have a bag packed by the time they get here.”

  “You said you’re done with the war.”

  “I am, but I want to be with you. I don’t care where, and the conditions don’t matter.” She threw off the sheet and began to get out of bed.

  “No, Ava.” He restrained her shoulders to keep her from getting up. “You can’t come.”

  “Why?”

  “You just can’t. You haven’t trained with us and . . .”

  “And what?” she demanded.

  “And I don’t function as well on the battlefield when you’re there. When you’re around, you are my priority. The mission has to be the priority.”

  “I have to come. I have to be there—to protect you.” She pushed him back and sprung from the bed.

  “No! That’s not how this is supposed to work.” He grabbed her tightly, pulling her back from the closet where she’d already managed to grab her assault pack. “I love you. I know how painful this is for you. It’s excruciating for me. But I will come home. You have to trust me and you have to trust God!”

  She let the pack drop to the floor. She turned and hugged him for what could be the last embrace with her husband on this earth. The two held each other for most of the fifteen minutes Foley had to get ready.

  A horn honked out front.

  “I’ve gotta go.” He kissed her, slung his rifle over his shoulder, grabbed his rucksack, a shirt, and his boots, then hurried out the door barefooted and shirtless.

  She grabbed her robe from the hook on the back of the door and followed after him. “I’ll be praying for you. Take care. I love you!”

  “I love you, too!” He waved as he got into the back of the pickup truck.

  In the days that followed, Ava tried desperately to keep her mind occupied with tending the garden and doing chores around the house. She barely spoke to Charity and her father. She checked her phone every ten minutes to see if she’d gotten a new text from Foley. Faithfully, he let her know that he was alive, but he could not provide any additional details that might compromise his team if the messages were intercepted. Ava could only speculate where he might be and what actions he might be involved in. She watched the morning and evening editions of the Patriot News Network as well as broadcasts from the mainstream media outlets, which were sympathetic to the regime. She knew the information delivered by the mainstream media was little more than propaganda for Markovich, but she listened closely for the slightest detail that could have been missed by the Patriot News Network and might provide a clue about Foley’s whereabouts.

  Despite her diligence, all of the data she took in from her various sources only proved to give her more questions; questions with no answers about the location or state of peril concerning her beloved. Having exhausted all other options, she relented and begged God to give her sufficient faith to trust Him with Foley’s life. Each morning before rising and each night before bed, she pleaded with God to bring Foley home—alive.

  Three weeks passed since Foley’s deployment. Ava finished her work in the garden and rushed to get cleaned up before the five o’clock news on Thursday evening.

  Charity joined her and Buckley on the couch near the tail end of the broadcast. “Anything new?”

  Ava looked up from her phone. “What?”

  “The news, did they have anything new to report?”

  “Oh, no. Same stuff. Markovich is holding the southwestern corner of Idaho. The panhandle is standing strong and the militia in Liberty have completely expelled the regime from eastern Washington.”

  “Still no word from Foley?”

  Ava looked back at her phone. “No, but it hasn’t even been forty-eight hours since his last text. It’s been as long as three days before. Signals aren’t reliable in a war zone.”

  “He’ll be okay.” Charity patted Ava’s leg.

  Ulysses came in and took his seat in the easy chair. He’d stopped using the cane, but he still babied his leg when he walked. He’d always walked with an almost undetectable limp from his previous surgeries, but it was more pronounced after the most recent injury. “How’s the garden looking?”

  Ava put her phone in her back pocket. “Green beans and lettuce are coming up. So is the corn. But we could use some rain. Charity and I try to water every day, but it’s a lot of ground to cover.”

  Buckley jumped off the couch and walked to the window.

  “What is it, Buck?” Ava watched him closely.

  Buckley started with a low growl, which soon grew into a full-fledged fit of barking.

  She got up from the couch and peered out the window. “Humvees, two of them!”

  Ulysses stood quickly. “Charity, take Buckley to the bathroom, then get your rifle and take cover near your bedroom door. Ava, get my rifle and stash it behind the door. Get yours and take up a position in the kitchen. If you hear me say I have no choice, come out shooting.”

  “Yes, sir.” Ava sprinted to get Ulysses’ rifle and her own. She propped Ulysses’ gun against the wall near the front door where he stood peeking out the peephole. Ava squatted behind the refrigerator with her AR-15 ready to engage.

  Ulysses called out to the girls, “The Hummers have Alliance insignia on the doors, but that still doesn’t explain why they’d be here with no invitation and no advanced warning. If they’re aware of who we are, they should have known better than to come slipping up on us.

  “Two people just got out. One has on a black suit. The other has on a full military dress uniform, highly decorated.” He paused for a moment. “Gold oak leaves, he’s a colonel.”

  Ava’s heart sank. If they were being attacked, the hostiles would send more than two people. And they wouldn’t be wearing dress uniforms. This was worse than an attack. The only possible reason for the visit was to inform her that Foley had been k
illed.

  Seconds later, she heard the knock. Ulysses didn’t open the door, rather he called out from inside, “What do you want?”

  “We’d like to speak with Ava Wilson.”

  “It’s Mitchem,” she whispered under her breath. She was honored that the military had sent such a high-ranking officer to notify the widow, especially since Foley was in the militia and not the regular army, but she couldn’t understand how they’d botched her name.

  “Sorry, no one here by that name,” Ulysses replied, still not opening the door.

  “What about Ava Adams?” the voice inquired.

  “Getting warmer, but still not right,” she said under her breath.

  “I’m sorry, you have the wrong address. Have a nice day,” Ulysses said.

  The voice implored him yet again. “Am I speaking with First Sergeant Ulysses Adams?”

  Ava had never heard anyone address her father by his rank.

  The voice continued, “We have a message for Ava, First Sergeant. It’s from the acting president.”

  “Condolences from Blackwell,” she whispered to herself. Ava felt sure it was nothing more than a form letter that may or may not have Blackwell’s actual signature. It would say something about the great debt of gratitude that the Alliance owed to Foley Mitchem for his faithful service and absolute sacrifice in the contest for freedom. To not take it would be dishonoring to her husband. She leaned her rifle against the refrigerator and stood up. Ava checked her pistol tucked in the back of her jeans and pulled her shirt down over it. With her head already hung in mourning, she made her way to the front door. “It’s okay, Dad. It’s about Foley.”

  Ulysses seemed to know the nature of the visit without her explanation. His lips pressed tightly together and his eyes looked pained. He nodded and stepped back from the door.