Occupied Seattle (Occupied Seattle Book 2)

by Christopher Kennedy

  “Generally, we don’t do this many missions in a row,” said Ryan. “Don’t worry, though, sir. Once the bullets start flying again, I think you’ll be favorably impressed with how quickly your adrenaline can get pumping again.”

  The command team was back at the Sommers’ house for some final intelligence collection and mission planning, prior to meeting up with the rest of the platoon for the mission brief. Mrs. Sommers had put together an elk stew that had refreshed all of the men, although Calvin was now in danger of going into a food coma. This was more than he had exercised in the last six months combined. When added to the near-constant terror of combat for most of the day, he couldn’t remember ever being this tired. Still, the missile system needed to be put out of action for the U.S. forces to be able to operate in the area. He rolled back vertical again and went over to the kitchen table, which had been cleaned off and was now covered in a variety of maps and drawings. Calvin had never realized how complicated a missile system was until he actually saw all of the components of one laid out across the landscape. It was impressive…in a really awful sort of way.

  Most of the maps showed North Bend’s E.J. Roberts Park and the area around it. The park was a 4.9-acre recreational area located in the Silver Creek Neighborhood in the northeast part of the town. A cozy little facility, it had a playground, two tennis courts, a basketball court, restrooms, and paved walkways. Right now, it also had a bunch of missiles in it, too. Calvin knew of five missile transporters that the Chinese had hidden among the trees in E.J. Roberts Park, including two that were next to each other on the tennis courts. The nets still lay on the court where the transporters had rolled over them.

  In addition to being concealed in the park, some of the missile system was hidden in the fringes of the field to the south of it. The mostly-open field was about four times the size of the park and had once been cultivated, although it had obviously been allowed to lie fallow for several years. The trees were starting to take back over in parts of it.

  Located to the east of the park was a neighborhood with about 50 houses. Two of the cul-de-sacs there also had new residents; the Chinese had parked missile transporters in the middle of them. It would be hard to do anything about those transporters without damaging the houses surrounding them.

  The soldiers had an excellent view of one of the transporters. Sara had a friend that lived in one of the houses on the street, and Sara had set up a Skype connection with her friend. She had then had her friend turn her laptop to face out the window; they now had continuous streaming video of the deployed transporter. Nothing was happening with it at the moment, although two Chinese soldiers were constantly patrolling the area.

  Of all the missions they had conducted so far, this was the one that the Rangers were the most prepared for. That didn’t mean that they were taking the Chinese lightly or being complacent with their planning; this was combat, and they were planning as if their lives depended on it. They did.

  The platoon was down to 21 effectives, 22 if you counted Paris, who was ‘iffy.’ He tried to make light of the wound that he had received on his upper arm. It had taken 10 stitches to close, but he said that he didn’t have any long term effects from it. He had refused pain medication to show how small it was until Top ordered him to at least take one of the 800 milligram Motrins that most Rangers kept somewhere close by. The giant Motrins were so prevalent in the lives of the Rangers that they were also known by the slang name of ‘Ranger Candy.’ Even with 22, they were still pretty thin to go up against what looked to be a guard force of at least a company (around a hundred men) in size.

  On the good side, Calvin thought, they weren’t forced to do battle with them one-on-one; all they really needed to do was figure out a way to destroy the HQ-19 system that was hiding in and around the park. They had considered several ways they could accomplish their task. The first way would be to destroy all of the missiles that were in the area. While that would keep those missiles from being used, it wouldn’t prevent the Chinese from bringing in additional missiles from somewhere else if they had them. It was an option, but not the best one.

  A second option would be to target the command and control portion of the SAM network and destroy the system’s radars and the command and control vehicle. Without that equipment, the missiles were just a bunch of rocket motors and high explosive; they could neither be launched nor guided. While the Chinese might be able to bring in additional radars or command vehicles, the odds of them having many more of those were a lot smaller than of them having more missiles, as they weren’t normally made to be replenished. This option would also be easier, as they would only need to blow up three vehicles rather than the eight missile transporters.

  The final option would be to try to kill all of the missile technicians and operators. Without the people to run them, the missiles were worthless. This option was a lot harder, though, because it was impossible to know which people in the area were the missile system operators and which were the missile system’s guards.

  The choice was made to go after the radars and the command and control vehicle; any missile transporters they destroyed along the way would be gravy. When they looked at the maps, they saw they were going to have a bit of a problem with collateral damage, as both radars were in the backyards of houses on Merritt Place and the command vehicle was alongside a house on Taylor Place. Depending on the blast radius and direction, the houses on Merritt Place might not be destroyed; the house on Taylor Place, however, was doomed.

  Calvin asked Sara if they knew who lived in the house that they were looking at on Google Maps, but she didn’t. As Calvin looked a little closer, he noticed that the people on Taylor Place had a small kiddie pool in their back yard. No, thought Calvin, not gonna happen. Whatever else we do today, I am not going to blow up a kid. Looking around, he realized that this was why he was in charge.

  “OK, guys,” he said, getting everyone’s attention. “Here’s the problem. See this picture?” He pointed to the pool. “That house has a little kid in it, and I am not blowing up a house with a kid in it. Nor am I filleting him with broken glass when I blow in the windows of his house while he’s sleeping. We can’t just blow up all of these houses. They’re Americans, damn it! We’re not in downtown Fallujah or somewhere in Afghanistan where all of the people are actively trying to kill us. These are our people and We. Will. Not. Kill. The. People. We. Are. Here. To. Protect!

  He looked around and could tell that no one else had made that connection before him.

  The soldiers and the SEAL looked at each other, looked at Calvin, and then looked at each other some more. Finally, the Master Chief looked back to Calvin and began, “OK, sir, granted, I don’t want to kill Americans any more than you do. The fact remains, though, that we have targets that have to be destroyed.” He paused and then asked, “With all due respect, sir, how exactly do you propose that we accomplish our mission of blowing them up, if we can’t actually blow them up?” Calvin was surprised; Ryan actually sounded respectful.

  “Well, Master Chief,” Calvin replied, “I have to tell you that I have absolutely no idea how we’re going to do that, but I can tell you that we’re going to sit here on our asses, all night if we have to, until someone figures out how we do exactly that. So, don’t give me shit. Just figure it out. You’re the ones with all of the experience killing people and breaking things.”

  Top looked at the photo. “Hmmm…” he said. “I guess if we infiltrated down the tree line from Boxley Place, we might get close enough to open up the door to the command vehicle and toss some grenades into it. That’ll wreck it without damaging the house behind it. Would that work?” he asked. “It wouldn’t be my favorite way of doing it, and it would probably lower our chances for overall mission success, but if we have to keep it within those parameters, I think that we can make it work.”

  Even though he hadn’t intended it, Calvin could hear BTO say to Tiny, “Ouch. I’m glad we won’t be the ones to get stuck with that.”r />
  “OK, I get it,” said Calvin, “I’m making this harder than it has to be. The bottom line is that people aren’t going to appreciate their houses being destroyed, even if the government fixes them afterwards. For example, my sister has this photo album that she has spent literally hundreds of hours on. It’s irreplaceable. She’d probably rather lose me in a fire than that book. If we start blowing up people’s houses, we’re going to destroy those things. And if we kill a kid…” He paused, and a funny look crossed his face.

  Ryan had never seen that look before. “Are you OK, sir?”

  Calvin rubbed his temples as he looked at the cabinet where Taylor Sommers, Sara’s mother, was putting something away. He removed his hands, and everyone could see that he was smiling. “Maybe we’re going about this all wrong,” he said slowly. Everyone waited. He paused, savoring the feeling of accomplishment. Calvin looked at Sara, who was sitting behind the soldiers. “Have you ever wanted to be a Girl Scout?”

  The apparent non sequitur had everyone confused, Ryan most of all. “Sir, are you feeling all right? Did you happen to hit your head earlier?”

  “No,” said Calvin, “I’m fine. I did, however, have an epiphany.”

  “What’s an epi-phony?” asked BTO.

  “The lieutenant’s just using a big word to say that he had a bright idea,” said Ryan. “Whatcha got, sir?” he asked.

  “I think that we’re looking at this the wrong way,” replied Calvin. “The people in these houses are Americans. We can talk to them. Why don’t we just ask them to leave?”

  Everyone looked confused, but Tiny most of all. “Sir,” the laconic sniper said, “I’m afraid I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.”

  “OK,” said Calvin, expanding a little more. “How about this? We don’t want to kill Americans, right? What if we have someone go door to door, posing as a salesperson, and tell everyone to leave for the night. That way, we get all of the little kids out of the neighborhood, and then we can do whatever else we need to. If we can evacuate the people, and especially the little kids, then I don’t mind if there is a little collateral damage. I just don’t want some kid growing up with nightmares about bad guys blowing up his house while he was sleeping. How does that sound?”

  “Gee, sir,” said Top, “that’s crazy enough that it just might work…”

  Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Tacoma, WA, 1955 PDT

  The navy had failed him, thought Colonel Zhang Wei. Again. They had a simple task, go to Bangor and get some nuclear warheads. They had plenty of marines, and they had attack helicopters. And they had allowed themselves to be defeated. Not only that, but now their command ship had been sunk at the pier, and their admiral taken captive. The incompetence!

  He should never have trusted the navy with the mission.

  In the morning, he would send some of his own men and would get the never-sufficiently-to-be-damned nuclear weapons himself. The Americans had an appropriate saying, ‘If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.’ He would send enough tanks, infantry fighting vehicles and combat troops to destroy whatever force was waiting there, as well as anything they might meet along the way. The helicopters that returned had only reported rifle and machine gun fire. His armor would make short work of the Americans guarding the nuclear weapons, and everything would proceed as planned. They might have an ‘accident’ with one of the warheads on the way back, just for causing him so much trouble.

  He had never failed in anything he had ever put his mind to. He would get this mission back on track. His honor depended on it.

  Three Doors Down from the Sommers’ House, North Bend, WA, 2000 PDT

  John Huang looked out his window as the men got in their cars and drove off. This was at least the second time all of them had been at the Sommers’ house. He knew that there were surface-to-air missiles in the park behind their house; wasn’t it just a little bit curious that people in military uniforms kept going into it? John wondered what they were doing there. They must be spying on the missile system.

  John wasn’t just a person with a Chinese-sounding last name; he was Chinese and had come to America many years ago as a secret agent. He was currently posing as a customs inspector and was in charge of checking shipping containers that came into the port of Seattle. It had been his job to let in a few containers that had been full of arms and uniforms in preparation for the invasion the day before. No one had ever figured that out, nor would they ever. He remained a loyal agent of China.

  He would have to keep an eye on that house. On second thought, maybe it was better to report the suspicious activity to the chain of command, just in case. He continued to worry that Colonel Zhang would consider him a loose end, now that his part in the invasion was over, and he knew what happened to Zhang’s loose ends. He desperately wanted to show that he was still an asset to the invasion force…

  North Bend Premium Outlet Mall, North Bend, WA, 2030 PDT

  The platoon met for their final briefing at North Bend Premium Outlets, a big outlet mall located less than a mile west of the Sommers’ house, where they had set up a briefing area in the stock room of the Carter’s outlet store. Top had approached the manager of the store earlier, hoping to use the space for the war effort against the Chinese. The manager had agreed, and he had been warned not to let anyone know that they were in the back. While business had gone on as usual in the front of the store, there had been times during the day when nearly 30 men had been resting and recovering from missions in the back. All of the stock had been stacked along the walls, and the shelves were being used as a place to store arms and ammunition. It looked eerie to Calvin to see a RPG-69 rocket launcher sitting alongside ‘Mr. Cuddle Bunny.’ He had seen similar things in some of the post-apocalyptic role playing games he had played on his PlayStation 5, but he had never thought that it would happen in America.

  Looking at the men assembled in the room, intense concentration evident on their faces, Calvin had a random thought. In the history of warfare, what was the most unlikely place that a major military operation had ever been planned? If it wasn’t in the back of a store that sold baby clothes, Calvin wasn’t sure where else it could be. Maybe if a battle had been planned on the altar of St. Peter’s Basilica at the Vatican, perhaps.

  Calvin, Ryan and Top quickly detailed the plan for destroying the HQ-19 missile system, and everyone began final checks on their weapons. Although they were getting to be a little thin on manning, they were now flush with arms and ammunition, courtesy of the armory on the Long. There were enough rifles and ammunition to go around, and all of the troopers that had previously carried American machine guns were now re-armed with Chinese rifles, giving them the same rate of fire. Although they were without the punch of a heavy machine gun and the Ranger Anti-tank Weapon System, they had been able to capture several grenade launchers, and they had a good number and variety of grenades to use with them. The twins had been playing with one of them and were looking forward to trying it out. Especially the grenade that was bigger than all of the others and kind of funny looking.

  In addition to their haul from the ship, the owner of “The Marksman” had been able to call in some favors and had acquired almost 30 grenades for their M203 grenade launchers. He had cheerfully provided them to the team with only a 20% mark-up added to Calvin’s bill. Calvin didn’t care; with the capability they added, he was happy to get them…and besides, it wasn’t his credit card they were using.

  One of the other benefits of having their operational headquarters at the outlet mall was that it had allowed Staff Sergeant Dantone to go shopping at the Toys “R” Us store. He was looking for was something that would give them the ability to communicate as a group and synchronize their actions, something that had been missing to this point. While he wasn’t entirely successful, he was able to come up with a potential workaround that he hoped would provide at least some of the needed capability.

  He had bought out the store’s entire supply of Motorola Ta
lkabout hand-held radios. Billed as the “ultimate communication tool for the serious outdoor enthusiast,” the MR350 had a range of up to 35 miles, under optimum conditions, and a number of features. What had sold The Wall on the MR350 was its silent vibrating ringer that could be used for synchronizing their operations, without giving away their presence with a blast of static. It also had a built-in LED flashlight that could be used whenever the bad guys weren’t around.

  They were as ready as they were going to be.

  Sommers’ House, North Bend, WA, 2200 PDT

  “Oooh, mom, did you hear his speech about how ‘These are our people, and we will not kill the people we are here to protect?’” Sara asked, her voice a little on the dreamy side. “Isn’t he soooo cool?” The Sommers’ family was sitting in their living room, Sara having just completed her rounds of the neighborhood.

  “Yes,” her mother replied, seeing where this was going. “I wouldn’t get too attached to him, though. He’s doing a very dangerous job and might not make it through the night, much less into next week.”

  “Oh, mom,” replied Sara, “why do you have to say something like that? Besides, did you see the way all those men, all those tough Rangers, looked up to him and did what he said? He’s soooo cool,” she repeated.

  Tom Sommers looked up as someone began knocking on the door. A hard banging, it was nothing like what the soldiers used when they came by. A little concerned, he went to the door and opened it just enough to be able to see the squad of Chinese soldiers waiting outside. He started to say, “Can I help you?” but was knocked backward as the door was kicked in and the soldiers stormed the house. They raced through the house, finding and subduing his wife and daughter. As he watched their progress, he was happy that the soldiers had taken their stack of maps and pictures with them when they left. They would have been hard to explain, perhaps even fatal. There were already stories circulating about people that had confronted the occupiers and had then disappeared. The soldiers had been very careful about leaving any of the evidence behind and had taken it all with them.