by T W Powell
Thomas shook his head negatively, “Nope, found this in the trash from our visitors’ Land Rover.”
“Pastor, Mr. Jackson, what’s this?” Jill was holding up a plastic pill bottle.
Doc looked at the label, “Diazepam, you know, Valium. Typically used as a sedative but also used to control seizures.”
Tom looked directly at Doc, “Also used to control seizures resulting from exposure to nerve agents.”
Doc’s jaw dropped, “What are you saying Tom?”
“Those three Militiamen in the Land Rover were prepared for exposure to chemical nerve agents.”
Doc blew off the possibility, “We don’t have any nerve gas and didn’t the United States destroy the last of its’ chemical weapons in ’23?”
“Yes, but China didn’t. Doc, when you use nerve gas, it’s not a tidy affair. The most potent nerve agent, VX, is not really a gas. It’s a viscous, odorless, colorless liquid. It’s heavier than air and not very volatile. Most VX ordnance is set to airburst at optimum height in a manner that broadcasts a fine aerosol over a wide area. Winds and rain are somewhat unpredictable, particularly at a local level. Whenever nerve agents are employed, the attacker is at risk as well as the target. Just handling the ordnance is risky.”
Doc was still in disbelief, “You’re telling me The Collective is planning to use nerve gas here, on these people?”
“I told you yesterday that you’d be surprised to see just how medieval this could become. It’s only been 15 years since Okinawa. The Chinese have their own VX isomer, CVX.”
“Sweet Lord Jesus, how do we fight armored helicopters and nerve gas?”
“God, Country, Corps. That’s how we beat these godless SOBs.”
“What do you mean?”
“That’s our code Pastor, we owe our allegiance first to God, then our Country, and finally the Corps.
Jill was quietly absorbing what Tom was saying and the gears were grinding in her young mind much like Yasmin Pham. She had never heretofore heard this kind of talk.
“By Country, I don’t mean this filthy Collective. I’m talking about the Constitution of the United States. Finally, the Corps refers to fellow Marines, but in this case, it refers to our fellow citizens.”
“Let’s get Ray over here. He needs to build a wash station close to the
Aid Station. I hope we never have to use it, but if someone is exposed to VX, Sarin, Tabun, or Soman, they need to immediately strip, then wash their entire body thoroughly.”
“I’ve got some really strong dog shampoo.”
“There ya go. The soiled clothing and the wash water should be considered hazardous. Casualties should immediately be injected with atropine and pralidoxime, then given Valium as needed to control any convulsions. I’m sure we don’t have a ventilator. Do you have any oxygen?”
Doc was still in shock, “Yes, a couple of cylinders and Ray may have some more, but I don’t have any pralidoxime.”
“Then we’ll just use the atropine. Collect any Valium the citizenry may have on hand. Have Ray make some sort of mask, or something, so any victims having breathing difficulties can receive oxygen. Doc you can take it from here, but there is one more thing.”
“Isn’t there always?”
“I hope it never comes to this, but if we start taking casualties it will be up to you to triage those casualties. We have limited time and resources. You are in charge; you make the call.”
“Tom, I feel so alone.”
“That’s the loneliness of command. But you of all people should know that you’re never truly alone.”
59th Street Yard
Junior and Bobby Ray were simultaneously jarred awake as their freight started switching tracks upon entering the 59th Street Intermodal Yard in Chicago.
“Bobby Ray, we’re coming into the yard. We gotta find a good spot to jump off. Now listen to me, this is a busy railyard. It is a very dangerous place. We have to get off this train without the Bulls seeing us. Then we have to find the Departure Yard. We will be looking for an Intermodal Train that’s a hot shot to California. A lot of frozen beef and pork heading to the PRC is shipped out of here in reefer containers.”
At an opportune time, they both jumped from the car and ran eastward toward the hundreds of containers waiting to be loaded.
Junior pulled out Jo’s hand drawn diagram of the yard, “Looks like they assemble the trains on the far side of the yard and load the containers on the well cars over here.”
“Junior, why aren’t the longer containers on the bottom and the shorter cars stacked on top?”
“Counterintuitive, huh? The reason is that most of these well cars were built to hold one 40ft. container, or two 20’ containers in the well. The 53 ft. containers won’t fit into the well, but they can be stacked on top. And look what I see.”
Junior was pointing at a well car with two 20 ft. containers on the bottom and a 53 ft. container on top.
“There are a bunch of reefer containers on this train, but is it heading our way?”
“Junior, I see a truck coming.”
A white compact pickup was slowly driving along the rows of containers.
As they slipped back behind a container, Junior whispered to Bobby Ray, “That’s almost certainly a Bull.”
From out of nowhere, another voice chimed in, “That’s the baddest Bull in Chicago.”
As Junior ducked behind some containers, he glanced toward the sound of the voice and saw a dirty little White hobo wearing an emerald green bowler.
By the accent, he was an Irishman, “Where are you lads off to this fine morning?
Junior started patting Bobby Ray on the shoulder, “Top of the morning to you. I need to get this young man to Battle Mountain, Nevada. Regrettably, his dear mother just passed on. Is that freight over there heading that way?”
“Battle Mountain is a long, cold ride this time of year. You gentleman wouldn’t happen to have a Drop of the Pure?”
Bobby Ray was at a loss, “A drop of what?”
“Excuse my young friend, he’s beside himself with grief.”
Junior pulled what was left of Spud’s fifth of bourbon from his backpack, “Would some Kentucky bourbon do?”
“You are a true gentleman.”
The Irishman took a long swig. “My, my, that is some fine whiskey. Smooth as a baby’s behind.”
Another swig followed, “You gents wouldn’t by chance know my niece? My niece Jo?
Junior was cautious, “Jo from Pittsburgh?”
“No, Jo from Louisville, Mr. Rambro. She said you and your friend might be headed this way.”
“Did Jo happen to say how Miss Daisy is doing?”
The faux Irishman lost his accent, “She’s as ornery as ever. Now that we’ve established our bona fides, how can I be of assistance?”
Junior repeated his question, “Does that train go through Battle Mountain?”
“Yes, it does. It’s usually a hot shot straight through to the Bay Area, but sometimes adds more reefer containers in Omaha. She should depart in an hour, or so. When you arrive in Battle Mountain travel southwest on Broad St, that’s NV 305. 20 miles out of town a road goes off to the left, Mill Creek Road. There’s a little Recreation Area up that road. Wait there for your guide. You may be there a couple of days. The Phoenix Mine is just off NV 305 about 10 miles out of town. Give it a wide berth. The Collective has turned it into a Racial Reparations Mining Camp run by the ChiComs. Now I have a little payment for your whiskey.”
The faux Irishman squeezed between two containers and pulled out a cardboard box containing some bottled water, chocolate bars, a dozen small cans of Vienna sausage, and toilet paper.
“It will be a long cold trip. Don’t leave the train. You should hit Battle Mountain in two, or three days.” “Jo’s Irish Uncle” then disappeared into the container maze.
When the coast was clear of Bulls, Bobby Ray and Junior hopped on their westbound freight.
“This is sure going to
be an uncomfortable ride, Bobby Ray. We haven’t got those dunnage bag mattresses.”
Communications
Communications play an indispensable role in any military campaign. The universal means of communication in the PUS were Peoples’ Phones and the internet. Both were monitored, censored, and controlled by The Collective. All personal electronics were produced in China. Every phone call, email, and internet search could instantly be traced, tapped, and disrupted. Freedom of expression and privacy were intolerable concepts in the PUS.
Delvin had a Peoples’ Phone that he used constantly and strategically to help maintain his guise. But for real communication, Delvin, and the organized Resistance, had an alternative. The Japanese provided a steady stream of supplies to the Resistance which included small, powerful, portable shortwave radios. Delvin had several such radio transmitters positioned in hidden locations in California’s Sierra foothills from Oroville down to Sonora.
Whenever Delvin reached out to his fellow Patriots, he would park his van a couple of miles from a radio post. Then, he would grab his bicycle from the truck and cycle the remaining distance to the secret transmitter. Delvin never broadcast for more than 10 minutes at a time.
Delvin’s weekly broadcast to Tom Jackson was scheduled for 8:45 this morning. After all the trash from the Land Rover had been examined, Tom set up the portable shortwave that he picked up at the northwest dugout on his way back to Kingston.
“Whatcha doing Mr. Tom?”
“Maybe you can give me a hand Miss Jill, I’m setting up this shortwave radio.”
“That’s cool. Who are we going to talk to?”
“We’re not really going to talk to anybody. A friend will be sending us a message in Morse Code, then we’ll answer the same way.”
“What’s Morse Code?”
“It’s a way to send messages with dashes and dots.”
Jill got the idea, “Sort of like binary?”
“Yes, probably the first binary code. Would you like to learn?”
“Can you teach me? Not only the code, but the radio, too?”
“Sure can. Let’s string this antennae wire.”
No sooner than the wire was strung, and the radio turned on, a series of dashes and dots came through. Tom began deciphering the message in real time and translating for Jill as he jotted it down.
“Slick to Cowboy.”
“Cowboy here.”
“Recent developments with friends. Meet at party house.”
“Recent developments at home. Will see you at party.”
“Plus 26. Slick out.” With that Delvin ended the broadcast.
The radio went silent and Tom turned to Jill, “Morse Code isn’t enough. The Collective isn’t that stupid. Morse just makes it difficult for the uninitiated. We use code words to keep The Collective in the dark. My friend is ‘Slick’. I am ‘Cowboy’. ‘Friends’ is the codename for The Collective. ‘Party House’ is a pre-arranged meeting place.”
“Where is that Mr. Tom?”
“You don’t want to know. In the Resistance, information is shared on a ‘need to know’ basis. Let’s suppose I tell you something and you are captured and tortured.”
“If I don’t know, then I can’t give up the info.”
“That’s right, Jill.”
“So, they would torture me or something?” Jill’s question was a little flippant.
“A pretty young lady like yourself, you can’t begin to imagine.”
Jill’s expression turned very grim as she listened to Tom.
“This is war Jill. I need your help. We don’t want people to panic, but people will die. If you’re captured by The Collective, well, that’s worse than death. Does that scare you?”
“Yes, Mr. Jackson. That’s horrible.”
“Do you still want to fight?”
“Yes! If I am going to die, I’ll die fighting.”
Tom handed Jill a thin how-to pamphlet for Morse Code, “In between your other duties, memorize this booklet. As you chat with your friends and family don’t panic them but make sure they completely understand our situation.”
The “Plus 26” part of the message indicated that Delvin would meet Tom 26 hours later. Tom would meet Delvin at 10:45 a.m. the following morning. Tom would stay in Kingston tonight, just in case visitors showed up. He could leave about 6 in the morning and still easily meet Delvin at 10:45 a.m.
.
Shinigami
A thick marine layer covered San Francisco Bay and limited vision to just a few feet. Delvin Smith had parked his truck among the Battery Rathbone McIndoe ruins at Black Sands Beach at the entrance to the Bay. 100 yards offshore a large black shape breached the rough waters of the Golden Gate, but this was no whale.
The Shinigami was Japan’s newest type 29SS attack submarine. She was the real-life incarnation of Tom Clancy’s Red October. Instead of noisy propellors, she was propelled by pumpjet technology. Most non-nuclear submarines are severely handicapped by lack of endurance, but not the Shinigami. With a range of over 6,000 nm and the ability to run silently for extended periods on lithium-ion batteries, the Shinigami was one of the world’s deadliest submarines. She was armed with six bow torpedo tubes capable of firing Type 89 Heavyweight torpedoes, or Mitsubishi’s latest upgrade of the venerable Harpoon anti-ship missile.
Delvin made his way down the rugged slope to the beach and lit a flare. In minutes, a black Zodiac approached the beach with six US Navy Seals onboard. As soon as they landed, four Seals with night vision formed a perimeter. The other two helped Delvin carry supplies up the rugged path to his truck. In under two minutes the Seals were heading back to the Shinigami carrying a waterproof pouch full of intel and status reports from Delvin.
As the Seals returned to their submarine, Delvin was already in his truck and on his way, drinking cappuccino and popping caffeine tablets. He had to meet Tom Jackson in Black Bird Canyon at 10:45 a.m.
The Second Korean War
This ride was tough. The weather between Chicago and Omaha had turned cold and wet. Junior and Bobby Ray tried their best to stay warm. The overhanging 53-foot container kept them out of the misting rain, but the air was damp and cold. They just sat there for hour after freezing hour.
Junior did his best to pass the time. He was sitting right up against Bobby Ray to conserve body heat, so Bobby Ray could hear him over the clackity-clack of the rails.
“Time to pick up where I left off. OK, I was telling you about Lil’ Rocket Man and the First Island Chain…”
Junior then recounted the events as best he could recall, and it was a long tale, but here’s the gist of the story.
Lil’ Rocket Man’s fuse finally burnt out. He was a young man, but a life of sedentary living, booze, gluttony, and drugs took its’ toll. His sister, Kim Yo-jong, succeeded him, but it wasn’t a simple arrangement. She was the Chairwoman of a ruling committee. Not much is known about that group, but it was most certainly composed of hardline old men.
Madame Kim was under constant pressure to take a hard line with South Korea, Japan and the US, not that she needed much prodding. She was even more dangerous than her brother.
After a new US President took office in January 2025, amid massive US civil unrest, Madame Kim made her move. She had a limited number of nuclear fission warheads and a limited number of ICBMs to carry them. She didn’t have sophisticated thermonuclear warheads, or multiple warheads, or decoys, or maneuverable re-entry vehicles, but she was willing to use what she had.
At 1:30 a.m. EST on Valentine’s Day 2025, the North American Air Defense Command, better known as NORAD, detected multiple ICBM launches from several points in North Korea. Scores of intermediate range ballistic missiles were simultaneously launched at military targets across Japan and South Korea. Curiously, Seoul was not targeted.
A total of 15 Hwasong-14 ICBMs were arcing across the Pacific. The new President was awakened and moved to a secured location. US and Japanese Forces immediately responded.
US and Japanese guided missile destroyers and cruisers activated their powerful Aegis radars searching for incoming threats. Many were armed with the new SM-6 missile capable of engaging both cruise and ballistic missile threats.
Onshore in Guam, Okinawa, Japan, and South Korea multiple layers of defense went active. Civil defense sirens wailed in Seoul, Guam, Okinawa, and across Japan, including Tokyo. The sirens were even wailing down under in Sydney and Melbourne.
The Guam and Okinawa onshore defenses were arranged in layers, like an onion. Terminal High Altitude Area Defense comprised the outer layer. The THAAD interceptor was a hypersonic hit-to-kill weapon that killed incoming threats by shear kinetic energy, like hitting a bullet with a bullet. Patriot missile batteries and Aegis Ashore were the second layer, capable of hitting ballistic threats, but also capable of taking out cruise missiles and aircraft. The terminal layer was the American version of Israel’s Iron Dome, Sky Hunter. Sky Hunter was batting cleanup.
Hawaii had similar defenses. The Aegis Ashore test facilities in Kauai had been upgraded to operational status along with a recently added THAAD battery.
Joint Base Pearl, in Hawaii, was protected by THAAD, Patriot, and Sky Hunter. As the early warning was issued, every ship in Pearl fired up its’ engineering plant and headed for the open sea. Arleigh Burke destroyers and Ticonderoga Class cruisers were pouring S-band radar into the night sky searching for vampires.
The civil defense sirens sounded in Honolulu, San Diego, and Seattle/Tacoma once NORAD had identified the threat to Hawaii and the West Coast. The 15 North Korean ICBMs were equally divided among three targets: Joint Base Pearl, Naval Base San Diego, and the various Puget Sound naval facilities.
The ICBMs reached Hawaii first. The THAAD battery on Kauai engaged the incoming warheads almost head-on. When intercepting aerial threats, aspect is a major factor. The most difficult engagement is a side-on shot, when the target is moving perpendicular to the interceptor. Normally, the easiest shot is a tail chase engagement. This usually occurs in air-to-air combat when an aircraft maneuvers directly behind the target, “getting in his 6.” With an incoming ICBM warhead traveling at 15,000 mph and a THAAD interceptor traveling at “only” 6,200 mph, the interceptor will never catch the target if engaged from behind. So, the head-on engagement is best case for ICBM interception.