by T W Powell
Junior was exhausted, covered in blood, and not thinking clearly, “Now I gotta get Doc’s ass up to Austin to save Bobby Ray.”
“Junior, roll up your sleeve. I need to give you some medication.”
As Doc gave Junior the injection, Junior queried, “What’s that Doc?”
“Tranquilizer. Now you best go lie down because you’re going down one way, or another.”
Tom reassured Junior, “We’ll take care of The Skipper. You’re exhausted. Time to rest, mi amigo.”
The Program
The Medical Team was kept busy testing and vaccinating those Chinese nationals scheduled to depart for China within the next 48 hours. Those injected with the red vaccine would not be contagious for at least two days.
For the next three days, the Team would be just a little bit busier. Tour busses were arriving at the Operations Center loaded with Chinese managers, Chinese technicians, and Peoples’ Militia based at Round Mountain. They would all be tested, evaluated, then vaccinated with green vaccine.
At several body shops around the Bay Area, 20 motor coaches were being modified with plexiglass enclosures around the driver’s seat, HEPA air filtration, and interior medical UV lighting. These busses would soon be heading down to Round Mountain. The Collective was modifying these busses to transport Round Mountain’s slave laborers back to their hometowns once they were “vaccinated”. 1,000 Typhoid Mary’s to be released upon the Resistance.
Delvin Smith arrived in Emeryville early that morning. Ostensibly, he was to meet with Dr. Ho Pham to nail down details of The Collective’s Round Mountain Operation.
“Good morning, Member Doctor Pham.”
“Good morning to you, Member Smith. Shall we get an early start on the Peoples’ business?”
Both Delvin and Doc Pham were now play acting, speaking somewhat loudly in Collective platitudes for the benefit of any bystanders and hidden listening devices.
“Yes. Let’s double check the environmental controls on the truck.”
Delvin broke out laughing as he and Doc Pham climbed into the truck, sans Peoples’ Phones.
“Mr. Smith, why are you laughing?”
“Sorry Doc, I was just thinking about that old TV show that spoofed secret agents. This truck is our ‘Cone of Silence’.”
Uncharacteristically, Ho Pham broke out in hysterical laughter, “I love that show and that Cone of Silence never works.”
For just a few moments the two men shared just a little bit of the legacy they were fighting so hard to reclaim. Good jokes must always contain a shred of truth. Delvin’s truck was a real world “Cone of Silence” that actually worked. Delvin methodically and religiously swept his vehicle for electronic listening and tracking devices.
“Several motor coaches are being modified for the Round Mountain Operation. The busses will be used to disperse the Round Mountain laborers across the country once they are injected with the red vaccine.”
Delvin calmly reassured Dr. Ho, “That should not present a problem. The Resistance will not impair traffic on NV 376 until they see this truck heading north on its’ return from Round Mountain.”
Doc Pham was concerned with the timeline. The clock was ticking.
“The first symptomatic cases should appear in China in 2 to 3 weeks. I recommend we initiate the Round Mountain Operation in about a week.”
“Agreed. One week from tomorrow we head to Round Mountain. The following morning, we vaccinate the ‘Debtors’. Once they are loaded on the busses, we will pack up and head out late that afternoon. We need daylight to fight, then darkness to hide.”
“Delvin, I hope we work together again after this operation.”
“Doc, I think you can bank on it. Sempre Fi!”
Recuperation
Doc Williams and Dawg arrived in Austin shortly after noon. Peoples’ Militia traffic on US 50 was quite noticeable, no doubt due to the fireworks at Top Gun. Doc and Dawg stuck to the backstreets. This was now standard operating procedure when entering Austin. Several vehicles were parked at the Pony Express Motel, mostly old Land Cruisers, Hummers, and even a few ancient Jeeps, all painted camo.
Doc didn’t like it one bit, “What do you think Bill?”
Deputy Smart had a traffic cop’s instincts born out of a thousand traffic stops and a hundred domestic disputes, “I think this situation stinks. There’s Peoples’ Militia everywhere. They’re looking for Resistance. Do you honestly believe that two White men can just mosey into town? It stinks.
“No offense Pastor, but you’re sort of an old fart. They won’t pay you no mind. On the other hand, they will notice me. Hell, some of those bastards could even recognize me from the real world. I’m sure they just love cops.”
“I have to agree with you.”
Deputy Smart continued his situational analysis, “The National Café is probably crawling with these assholes. If Vince and Stormy have Bobby Ray, they have him on ice and need to get his ass out of town.”
Doc suddenly got creative, “You and the three horses hang out at the old park, right on the edge of town. I’ll just stumble along these backstreets like a drunken tramp until I get to the National Café.”
“That’s a good plan, but you don’t look the part.”
Vet grabbed up some dirt and rubbed it on Doc Williams’ face. Next, he removed Doc’s Stetson and crumpled it all to hell. Then he ripped Doc’s jacket pocket just a little. Finally, he picked up a road apple and discreetly rubbed it on Doc’s trousers.
“Now you not only look like shit, you smell like it too.”
“Was that really necessary?”
“Damn straight. Pastor, you make one hell of a wino. Now here’s the plan. Go find Bobby Ray and get him ready to travel. Ask Vince for some cheap booze. Rub that on your clothes and gargle with it regularly. If you see Peoples’ Militia, don’t avoid them. Approach them for a handout. Then, after dark, you and Bobby Ray meet me at the park. With luck, we’ll be back home by midnight.”
Doc Williams took his acting encore. Just a block away from the National Café, he approached some Peoples’ Militia who swiftly gave him a kick to the ass and told him to be on his way. Doc was more than happy to oblige and finally made it to Miss Stormy’s back door.
Stormy opened the door and was just about to slam it shut when Doc literally stuck his foot in the door, “Miss Stormy, it’s me. Doc Williams.”
“Lord have mercy, Doc. You smell like horse shit and don’t look much better.”
“Is Bobby Ray here?”
“Yes, he’s upstairs, but the Café and Saloon are full of Peoples’ Militia trash. We got to get him out of here.”
“That’s why I’m here. I’ve got what I need in my backpack. Could you get me some boiling water, linens, and some grain alcohol?”
“I’ll bring it up right away. He’s in Room #2. Use the backstairs. Here’s the key.”
Doc Williams quickly made his way upstairs and Stormy brought up the water, bandages, and alcohol.
Doc made his evaluation, “There are several small fragments in his hip. His shoulder is clean. He’s got a quarter-inch fragment in his right abdomen, not too deep. Don’t think there’s any organ damage. I’m going to give him a strong sedative. He’ll be out for several hours. We’ll get out of here at midnight. He’ll be groggy, but that’s OK, we’ll be posing as drunks.”
Doc Williams had Bobby Ray all cleaned up and bandaged in a couple of hours, then laid down in the room’s other bed.
“Miss Stormy, wake me up at midnight if I’m still asleep.”
Doc was wide awake by sundown and Stormy brought him a good meal.
Then Vince paid a visit, “Doc, let Tom know that you boys have stirred up quite a hornet’s nest. From what I hear, Top Gun got blown all to hell. They don’t know how many of you participated in the attack, but they say they’re hot on the trail of at least one saboteur.”
“They say they’re on the trail of one saboteur?”
“Yep!”
&n
bsp; Doc Williams thought to himself, “That hard-headed Romanian might still be alive.”
“Be ready to roll around midnight, Stormy will let you know when the coast is clear.”
About 11:30 p.m. the Saloon cleared out and Bobby Ray and Doc stumbled down the back stairs and out the backdoor. It was slow going, but a half hour later they met Deputy Smart in the park. Bobby Ray was still very groggy, so Doc gave him some more sedative and tied Bobby Ray in his saddle. All three men carefully made their way back to Kingston.
Junior had slept the better part of a day and night thanks to Doc Williams. He was just snapping out of it when Doc, Dawg, and The Skipper arrived at the Aid Station in Kingston Canyon.
Junior couldn’t believe his sleepy eyes, “Bobby Ray, is that you?”
Bobby Ray was starting to come around, “Yes, Junior, I’m here.”
Junior helped Doc get The Skipper down off his horse and into bed.
Then Doc offered his prognosis, “He needs rest, food, and antibiotics. Give the kid a week and he’ll be ready to blow up another airfield.”
Heading South
A week had passed without incident. Bobby Ray was recovering nicely and Junior joined Tom out at the gravel pit. Junior could sense that this was the calm before yet another storm. Thomas Jackson fixated on NV 376 for hours on end, watching and waiting for the convoy.
“Abrams to Jarhead, there’s a convoy of about 20 tour buses heading your way.”
“Do you see the target?”
“Negative, only busses.”
“Are they loaded with Militia?”
“Negative, they’re empty.”
About 10 minutes later, the bus convoy passed the gravel pit.
“Everyone, just be cool.” Tom didn’t know exactly what was going on,
but this was not the target and definitely not part of the plan.
About 2:15 p.m. Juan once again alerted Tom, “There’s another convoy heading south on NV 376. We’ve got a school bus full of Peoples’ Militia, a high-end electric limousine, a network news Outside Broadcasting van, and a Hummer packing a Ma Deuce. Hold it, target sighted.”
The walkie went silent. Abrams had to dive for cover as an Apache passed low overhead.
“Abrams to Jarhead, Apache on the warpath.”
Tom didn’t need to hear any of that, “Jesus Christ Almighty, Junior, I thought you got all those damned Apaches.”
“We did. We got both of ‘em. Blew them to smithereens.”
The Strike Team had indeed destroyed four Hogs and two Apaches on the tarmac at Top Gun. But they did not destroy the Apache that was in the hangar undergoing routine maintenance.
“Junior, pass the word around. Apache coming our way. No firing and get invisible fast.”
As Delvin drove his truck southward, he glanced into his rear-view mirror and was shocked to see an Apache escorting the convoy. Then his training and experience kicked in. This was a military operation. Nothing ever goes as planned.
“Father, why is that helicopter flying so low and following us?” Little Yasmin was also surprised to see the chopper.
Nurse Beth and Doctors Ho & Yen Pham peered out the limo’s tinted windows at the Apache.
“Don’t be concerned daughter, he’s just making sure no antelope or wild horses are on the roadway. We wouldn’t want to injure any wildlife.”
But neither Yen nor Beth were buying Ho’s explanation. They could see that the Apache was armed with guns and rockets.
This news ruined Junior’s afternoon, “Did Juan just say that there’s a Hummer packing a .50 caliber Browning coming our way?”
Tom’s afternoon wasn’t going much better, “Yes, he did.”
“Tom, our BAR is a fucking pea shooter compared to a .50 caliber Browning. That gun has a range of over a mile and fires over 500 half-inch rounds per minute. So, we now have an Apache armed with a 30 mm chain gun and Hydra rockets flying air cover for a Hummer packing a Ma Deuce. We could lose a bunch of our people tomorrow.”
Just like Delvin, Thomas relied upon his combat experience, “I hear you Junior. We have the better part of the day to figure this out. Let’s keep calm.”
Even as Tom was reassuring Junior, the Apache buzzed the gravel pit as the convoy continued south on Highway 376.
“Jarhead to Sniper, you got your ears on?”
“We’re ready down here.”
“Dad, the convoy is headed your way along with an Apache. Better get under cover.”
“Adam sees him. OK, now I’ve got ‘em.”
“Dad, after that convoy passes, send Adam this way with your sniper rifle and the other BAR. We will need that firepower up here. I’m sending Deputy Smart down your way.”
“10-4 Thomas.”
After the convoy and the Apache were out of sight, Adam loaded the sniper rifle, BAR, and ammo on Miss Daisy and mounted his horse. In less than 3 hours he was in Kingston, right at sundown.
Adam treated Miss Daisy with an apple, “That’s a good girl Daisy. The years haven’t slowed you down, not one little bit.”
“Adam, did you and Dad have much time to practice with the sniper rifle?”
“Yes sir. Concealment, Acquisition, Targeting, Engagement, and Displacement.”
“Yes Son, those are the mechanics. But can you shoot a man?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s the right answer, Son. A soldier can never answer that question until his time comes. Sometime tomorrow, a Hummer is going to head up this road. It will be armed with a .50 caliber Browning machine gun. Picture a gun that can fire the same round as this here sniper rifle, except it fires over 500 rounds per minute. We call it a Ma Deuce.
“Our mission is to intercept that convoy. Tomorrow, we have to deal with that Ma Deuce and that Apache. We’ve got two Type 91 heat seekers we can use against the Apache. There’s a good chance we can at least scare it off. But that .50 caliber Browning can stand off and shred a bunch of these folks. Even if we manage to maneuver and take out that gun, we’ll almost certainly lose people.
“I’m betting that you won’t let that happen. You’ll acquire the target from your primary position. You will engage the target at a predetermined range offering ballistic advantage. Once the target is neutralized, you will displace to a supplementary position to avoid counter targeting by the enemy.”
“Grandpa John taught me all those things and more. I know how to neutralize the enemy.”
“Good. I’m counting on you to take out that Ma Deuce.”
About the same time that Adam arrived in Kingston, the Medical Team plus Delvin had finished unloading the medical supplies at the Round Mountain mine. The vaccine was stored in Round Mountain’s secure gold room which had been modified to maintain a constant 40F temperature. The mine’s HR department provided Dr. Ho with a thumb drive containing detailed information on the approximately 1,000 Debtors slated for vaccination.
After taking care of business, the Medical Team plus Delvin made their way over to the Peoples’ Hostel at the rebuilt town of Round Mountain. The town was now populated by the Chinese management and technicians who worked at the Round Mountain mine. A new barracks housed a detachment of Peoples’ Militia responsible for safeguarding the Round Mountain mine.
The Peoples’ Hostel was a conglomeration of modular housing units. The Pham family was assigned a two-bedroom unit and Delvin was placed in an adjacent one-bedroom efficiency. Dinner was served at 6 p.m. nightly in an austere mess hall. Tonight’s dinner was lentils and cornbread with sliced pears.
Delvin was not impressed with either the food or accommodations, “Man, oh man, probably can’t order a T-bone at this establishment.”
Dr. Ho agreed, “No, I think not.”
“Mr. Smith, Delvin, I recall you mentioned an acquaintance from Georgia with the last name of Skipper.”
“Yes, I did. Is something wrong?”
“Do you recall where this Skipper person was born?”
“Macon, Georgia.”
“Delvin, we need to activate the Cone of Silence.”
Both Delvin and Dr. Ho excused themselves and headed out to Delvin’s truck.
The Raid
The following morning, the Medical Team set up shop in the Round Mountain mine’s cafeteria and began vaccinating the Debtors. A mobile TV crew was broadcasting the process live over The Peoples’ News Network.
“Good day Members! Today, we are coming to you live from The Racial Reparations Mining Camp in Round Mountain, NV. 1,000 Debtors are being released today, their debt to society paid in full. Today’s release marks a new beginning for The Collective. Miserable, White, male Capitalists and Racists have been successfully rehabilitated.”
Dr. Ho was calling out Debtors by name to step forward for vaccination. Following vaccination, the Debtors were herded directly into the modified motor coaches. Once fully loaded, those busses immediately departed for various rural locations across the Peoples’ United States.
Meanwhile at the gravel pit, Tom Jackson was looking for Adam, “Has anyone seen my son?”
Ray piped up, “On yeah, he borrowed my surveyor’s wheel this morning. I think he’s down on the highway.”
Tom peered through his binoculars and, sure enough, there was Adam about a mile south on NV 376 walking back toward the gravel pit, surveyor’s wheel in hand.
Tom walked out to meet him, “I thought you’d be getting ready for the assault.”
“I am.” Adam continued walking directly toward the gravel pit.
“OK son, I give up. What in the hell are you doing?”
“See that Speed Limit sign about a mile south of us?”
Tom squinted his eyes, “Yes, I see a sign.”
“That’s where I will engage the target, approximately a mile from my primary position. I’m getting an exact distance to target to make my calculations more precise. I figure we need a head shot, a clean kill. I will take out the gunner first, then the driver. If the vehicle is still moving, I’ll take it out next.”