by ML Banner
Grimes sited in the semi driver.
The group of crazies was quiet, the growl of their idling engines making their only sounds now.
The semi driver revved his engine and then blew the horn, a blaring squeal that pounded Grimes’s eardrums, already throbbing painfully. The driver let out an animalistic wail to match his horn, and all the others followed his lead, blaring their screams and horns in a cacophonous orchestra of madness.
The semi popped into gear and shuddered forward.
Grimes cycled a round, took aim, and fired his first shot at the semi driver; then he cycled another and aimed at the next vehicle’s driver; then another.
A splatter of red covered the semi’s windshield as it lurched off the road slowly and eased into the ditch. The other vehicles followed when everyone in Stowell joined in, firing on all the convoy horde’s vehicles. The Stowell residents let loose with the power of nearly a hundred AKs.
Their enemy didn’t stand a chance.
Only a few minutes later, when it was all finished, Grimes felt pride for how their people performed. But then his pride turned to dread.
Aimes had been training their town’s militia to prepare for a much more lethal enemy. The Islamic warriors they were expecting tomorrow or the next day were far better trained to fight than these drug-addled cannibals. Their true enemy wasn’t scared and relished dying on the battlefield as martyrs.
No, this band of drug-crazed thugs was no match for a little strategy and their AKs. The battle with the invading Islamist army would be different. Of that he was sure.
Grimes looked down to his friend. Aimes stared back at him, appearing just as worried.
Chapter 23
July 11th
Sunbay Cove, Florida
Frank
They rose early to prepare for the invasion.
There was no way to know if it would ever hit their area and, if so, when. But they were going to be prepared for it just the same. No longer was this simply a matter of survival for Frank and what remained of his family. This was a preparation for war.
The rules of war were far different than those for survival. With survival, you prepared to react to the chaos that was foisted on you. Although you treated everyone with skepticism, even a suspicion that they wanted to do you harm, you still treated them with respect. It wasn’t the rules of decorum that worried you, it was avoiding conflict. This was primary to survival. Conflict could mean injury, and injury led to a much higher probability of death. When faced with a conflict with someone who intended to do you harm, you would still be just as harsh in your killing, but you always did it with reservation.
Engaging in war meant being proactive, not reactive. You assumed that all those dressed in the enemy’s uniform of choice were combatants. And in the theatre of war, there was only one thing you needed to do with combatants—and that was kill them before they killed you.
There would be no desire or thrill in causing pain or suffering to a combatant. Sometimes a combatant was a regular person like him, albeit a regular person who chose to be on the wrong side of the conflict. Regardless, in war, their job was to kill their enemy combatants proactively and as efficiently as possible. That was their primary focus from now on. As a warrior for the US Army who had been involved in many battles himself, he would work with his family to accomplish this.
The first preparation was protecting their property. In a time of war anyone who entered their property without their invitation was considered a combatant. Their goal was to therefore kill that combatant quickly and effectively. To this end, with Lexi’s and Travis’s help, Frank set up their perimeter defenses and posted a clear warning. Across the front gate they strung a sign that spoke their intentions plainly: “Honk horn. Otherwise you will be shot.”
Unfortunately, Frank didn’t have any explosives for his defenses. So he opted for a few more jungle-warfare-style traps. They would be just as deadly as any explosive. In every simple egress and ingress area, he set up spearing devices, using saplings for their tension.
Frank cut and gathered the branches for spears and gave specific instructions to Lexi and Travis on how to make their points and their varied lengths. While they were busy doing this, he cut and gathered the sapling branches and trunks. Most of these were bundled to make them stronger and provide more tension, making the resultant traps much more lethal. Each constructed trap was taken to each area where he thought someone might try to gain access or sneak up on them by foot. Lexi and Travis followed him to each point, helping as he directed.
He did this not only to teach them both these skills, but so they’d know where each of these was located. That way, if they had to leave the property quickly, they wouldn’t accidentally step on one of them. Frank even set up little red markers, twenty steps away from each trap, as a warning that a trap or snare was coming up.
Just before setting each trap, he added a poisonous cocktail to each tip. He’d made the concoction from a combo of some of the household chemicals they had on hand. Each time he did this, Travis went a little wide-eyed over how he’d feel if he was speared by one of these things.
“What about the boards with nails?” Travis asked. They’d made four of those and left them upside down at certain places around the property.
“Those are for our secondary traps. Are you ready to dig holes?”
“Great,” Lexi mused out loud. She had already expressed her dislike for digging when Frank pulled out the shovels.
It was late morning when they were done and able to take a breather. They lounged in the yard for a few minutes and drank lots of water and snacked on some power bars from their food storage.
“All right,” Frank announced. “Now we’re going to take a few minutes for target practice.”
He gathered Lexi and Travis together and went over the fundamentals of handling a gun safely and how to load and shoot one. He knew Lexi understood this, as he’d already trained her, but wanted to make sure she had a refresher. This exercise was more for Travis, though. Frank knew they’d have to leave him alone again the next time they went out. And he wanted to be sure Travis could defend himself.
After letting the boy dry-fire several times, Frank set up a target for Travis. First he demonstrated, showing him what it looked like to shoot at a person. Then he had Lexi demonstrate.
It was utterly impressive and Frank squeezed her shoulder, letting her know. Then Frank warned Travis not to do what Lexi did, drawing her concealed pistol and shooting. It was too dangerous for him; Lexi had a special pistol for this and she’d been trained on the procedure.
Once Travis understood the rules, Frank let him have a try at firing several shots with the .22 Ruger.
Satisfied, Frank called it a day for their preparations.
It was about that time their neighbor joined them. Jasper said in his gravelly voice, “I heard the target practice. How did the kids do?”
“I hit the target twenty-five out of thirty times.” Travis gleamed.
“They’re naturals at it,” Frank emoted very sincerely. He was proud of what they had accomplished. “I’d hate to be on the receiving end of their weapons.”
Frank posted a watch for each, giving Lexi the first. Then he had Jasper set up the trap he had constructed for the walkway between their two properties. That way it wouldn’t be a surprise to him. Per instructions, Jasper set the red marker inside Frank’s side.
Frank then took Travis with him inside. He was anxious to try the radio again, hoping they’d reach his friends in Stowell. He was beside himself with worry about his friends and his town.
~~~
Lexi
She knew the perfect spot for watch, where she could see everything coming their way.
Lexi went around to the garage, grabbed an aluminum ladder, and extended it to the western roof edge. She had found binoculars, and after hoisting herself on the western crown at the highest point, she started to glass the area around her.
First she trained
her binoculars on the eastern area of the property even though she wasn’t as worried about invaders approaching from this side, as they should easily hear any vehicle or the cries of those speared by one of their traps. However, she’d never seen the property from this view and was interested to see what she could see.
The main highway wasn’t visible, but the cut in the trees made it obvious where it was. She scanned for their private drive and saw some of it snaking toward her, but the trees ate most of her view. Looking to the south, the dense growth only occasionally opened up, such as an opening cut for a development of warehouses just beyond her binoculars’ reach.
She crawled over to the northern edge of the roof, seeing, without the binoculars’ help, Jasper’s house and the small opening in between the two properties. But Jasper wasn’t anywhere.
Finally, she flipped onto her back, using the roof’s natural tilt to comfortably lie with her head propped up by her pack. The view of the Gulf was stunning from here. The water sparkled like billions of little diamonds reflecting the bright sunlight back at her. She had to squint to see. Looking through the binoculars got to be difficult because of the glare.
She heard what sounded like her stomach growling and thought she wanted more than just a power bar. For just a moment, she let her mind wander over images of her Aunt Sarah making waffles for her and Travis. She snickered at the memory of Travis sticking an entire waffle into his mouth in one bite, smiling while he chewed. She could almost taste the syrupy goodness in her mouth. Her stomach growled again and kept growling one long growl. But it wasn’t her stomach.
Lexi sat up and slapped the binoculars to her head, letting her ears guide her to what was making the sound.
There.
It was several powerboats, maybe four or five. In each were men, lots of men. Each wore a paramilitary uniform much like those worn by Abdul’s soldiers on his base that they had destroyed three days ago.
The lead boat disappeared among something that blocked her view.
She peeked above the binoculars and could barely make out the shrinking line of boats between the glinting flashes of light around them. She looked again as the last boat disappeared behind the cover of trees.
They were headed to Endurance. The town was about to be invaded.
Chapter 24
Somewhere in Texas
Tariq
Tariq Aziz calmly transmitted one last time on the predesignated frequency and waited for the response that never came. His team had been waiting for hours now, and their contact, who he suspected was the head of their cell, was not at the designated spot. They had arrived late, but their contact was supposed to wait for them. He checked his watch and then signaled his second in command.
“Mohammad,” he said. The younger man was as devout and as serious as any he had trained with. Tariq clasped a hand on his shoulder. “It’s time to go. We’re going to go to our second meeting point. Get the men loaded into the trucks. You take the second truck and make sure you’re ready to follow me out of here in ten minutes.”
“When will we get our weapons?” Mohammad asked. It wasn’t an emotional plea like some of the other men made, those desiring martyrdom. His request was more sterile, like a surgeon asking for his scalpel just before cutting flesh.
“That’s where we’re going next.”
Mohammad didn’t acknowledge him. He just turned away from his superior and quietly gathered his men.
Meanwhile, Tariq took one final look over the boats to make sure they were completely cloaked so that the only way to find them was to fall over one of them. And that wasn’t likely, because this area was protected, marshy, and not frequented by many visitors. That was why this area had been selected for them.
He pulled himself into the first truck and started it up with the keys he’d found left inside the driver’s-side front wheel well. He eyed the buzz of activity behind him as the men loaded themselves efficiently into his and Mohammad’s trucks. He heard the second truck turn over, and a quick flash of its headlights told him they were ready. They pulled out of the reserve, with the mission on all their minds.
They had followed the plans exactly as they were told. They had come in last night through the channel past Galveston and then through the Galveston Bay and then East Bay to the wildlife refuge, where they’d be least likely to run into anyone. They found the trucks camouflaged under cuttings that looked no more than a few days old. Tariq figured they must have been deposited there right after the EMPs. Their GPS told them exactly where they’d be. They were supposed to be met by their contact, who would assist them with picking up their supplies, and then they’d all convene at the safe house. Their contact not showing up at the pickup point was no more than an inconvenience. They would have to assume that he was captured or killed and their safe house was compromised.
Other than their missing contact, all was going according to design. Tariq moved on to the next stage of their plan, sticking to the smaller roads until they found Monroe City, Texas. His GPS then led them to the warehouse that had been rented for them. In it waited all the supplies they would need and the list of their targets. Soon they would know which American cities they would be conquering.
For Tariq, his goals were twofold: to do his Mahdi’s wishes and to inflict pain on this country. He would follow his Mahdi’s plans for taking over the Great Satan, but in return his Mahdi would allow him to relish killing and perhaps torturing its residents. This was what motivated Tariq the most ever since the Americans had killed his family in their indiscriminate bombing in Fallujah. He’d get revenge and be a part of bringing the caliphate to America, just as the prophecies said.
When they found the warehouse (actually a group of warehouses and storage lockers off a mostly rural area), he was almost surprised how easy this was. Why hadn’t the Great Satan fallen before this? he wondered. It was almost effortless to walk right up to it and pluck out its heart. These freedoms the Americans celebrated were a falsehood, because they chose not to protect themselves. When a shepherd left his sheep unprotected—each sheep certainly believed itself to be free to roam wherever it wanted—he was inviting the wolf in to attack.
A perimeter fence provided no more than a cursory obstacle as Tariq hit the gas and barreled through the gate. The other truck followed easily behind. They pulled up to the rear of their warehouse and used a key on the truck’s keyring to unlock the sliding door.
Once through and the trucks were parked inside, Tariq yelled, “All right, I want you men broken up into your teams and find your designated trucks. Mohammad, help me find the weapons and the medicine.”
Tariq watched them all scatter, a deliberate chaos that he couldn’t help but appreciate because of its exquisite execution. The men automatically split into predesignated teams, or what the Americans might call a squad. Each team had a commander, with those men under him providing support for the mission of that team. Most teams were supporting the overall mission, but some had specialized functions, depending on their target cities. Their Mahdi had studied the American military’s procedures and then made sure that they were taught to his men and to many other groups. All of it was part of this grand effort to destroy the Great Satan once and for all.
“Sir?” Mohammad asked stoically. It was a careful reminder to get back on track. He was anxious to get started on their mission; they all were.
“You try that box.” Tariq motioned to a topmost crate on one of the many pallets in front of them.
Mohammad handed him one of the two crowbars in his hand and set to the first box while Tariq took to what he was sure was an ammo crate. Squeaking nails and the thunk of wood on concrete announced their success.
Tariq nodded to Mohammad, who whistled to his next in command and told him to get the men armed up, one crate of rifles and one of ammo per team. Tariq now looked for the most important package in the warehouse. It should be easy to spot since it was smaller than all the others, and it should be by itself. He found it almost righ
t away.
He knelt down to the small wood box and reached out to it. It had Arabic written above a stenciled English word, “Fenethylline.” Touching the writing, he smiled at what it said.
“May Allah be with you on your journey to paradise,” said Mohammad, standing behind him. “The stupid Americans probably think it says something about the drugs in the box.”
Tariq had the same thought, but didn’t answer his man. Instead he applied his crowbar to the small crate. The top came off easily. Inside was a large bag of white pills. He handed it to Mohammad, who grabbed it but waited to see what their orders were. Now, the younger man’s face was full of emotion, a longing for them to start their next step: kill the infidel.
Nested below the bag under some of the packing material was a manila envelope. Tariq withdrew it and opened the clasp in back and pulled out the paperwork inside.
Most of the pages were satellite maps of towns and small cities spreading out for miles from one point, this warehouse. This would be their base, and from here they would take over large swaths of American territory. They should have little resistance: their nuclear weapons and then gas made sure of that. The American people, now desperate for food and supplies, would be easily conquered. Finally, they would have overwhelming firepower since only the American military had automatic weapons.
Tariq forgot for a moment about Mohammad. He glanced at his man, who waited patiently, but still his eyes had a desperate disquiet, a longing for violence. He was just glad Mohammad was on his side.
Tariq handed him the first satellite map, which showed the first set of towns they would target. He studied the map and then handed it back to Tariq.