“Please do not panic. Listen to the following instructions and perform them in a calm and orderly fashion. If you do not have a means of evacuation, please report to the nearest METRORail station to be transported to Reliant Park for evacuation by bus. Every able-bodied member of your family should pack a backpack or suitcase full of nonperishable food, toiletries, a change of undergarments and bottled water.
If you do have transportation, please calmly evacuate the city. First responders on the ground will direct you onto the evacuation route that is designated for your area. Your cooperation is required and appreciated. Thank you.”
He paused to listen again and heard the varying instructions from the other distant megaphones, depending on the area of the city. Those nearest to the METRORail would be directed to board it, but other areas would be collected by school bus or public transit. A select few closest to the airports would be shuttled there and flown to DFW, and the remaining evacuees would be collected by freight trains, semis and flatbed trucks. Those that were deemed able would be forced to walk out on foot. They would continue this cycle until everyone was evacuated, the city fell into complete anarchy or the nuclear device was detonated. Reese shivered at the thought.
Before the start of the Greatest Depression, Houston was the fourth largest city in the country with over two million people. It also had the fifth largest metropolitan area with over six million people. No one knew how many people were left in the Houston area, but Reese reasoned at least four million, still far too many people to expect to follow the instructions without incident.
He watched as the first of the panicked citizenry flooded out onto the streets, without any of the items that they were instructed to bring. Reese knew the frenzy would spread chaos and terror among the others that would otherwise try to remain calm and act as instructed. He prayed that they did not start to-
He cursed as he watched the first storefront window shatter. It was a small convenience store. A mob of looters rushed in to grab anything they could. Within mere moments, they began to fight each other over the sparse items remaining on the shelves. It was a horrible start to their plan, and it was just the beginning.
Reese radioed for reinforcements along Main Street as the anarchy intensified. He shouted into the Humvee and was handed a pump shotgun chambered with less than lethal ammo. He fired several quick volleys of rubber shot into the raucous crowds to disperse them. The rounds were not deadly at the distance they were fired from, but they were still excruciatingly painful. The crowd begrudgingly dispersed, for the time being. He knew the sound of gunfire would be unnerving to those that were properly preparing for the evacuation as instructed, but the sight of chaos in the streets would have been even worse.
Within several minutes, reinforcements arrived in Humvees and police cruisers to further disperse and control the crowds, just as they began to flare up again. Reese breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the mixed group of soldiers and officers. He climbed out of the vehicle and handed the megaphone to a young guardsman that was to take over his post.
Families were beginning to filter out of the surrounding apartments and make their way to the METRORrail stations. The presence of the armed officers and soldiers was both unnerving and comforting to them at the same time. Reese flashed a nervous smile and a nod to some soldiers standing nearby as he walked to the back of a pickup truck with Harris County Sheriff’s Department emblazoned on the side. Several officers were unloading the three motorcycles that he had requested off of a trailer. He thanked them as he climbed on the first bike and sped away to the near east side of the city. Two Texas Rangers followed closely behind him on the remaining bikes.
The city’s light rail system, METRORail, was just beginning to collect the first of its passengers as Reese left on the bike. The route started at the University of Houston-Downtown on Buffalo Bayou. It led south eight miles through the vibrant downtown district along Main Street, past Herman Park, through the sprawling Texas Medical Center and ended at the aptly named Reliant Park. From there, a portion of the city’s more than twelve hundred buses were staged to evacuate south along Highway 288, on several reserved lanes. Once out of the city, the buses were routed to the coastal communities from Galveston to Corpus Christi.
The coordination and execution by METRORail was valiant, but the system was utterly overwhelmed as riders were squeezed onto standing room only trains, pushing the transport capacity of eight thousand people per hour to nearly twelve. Despite the increased capacity, hysterical people were left waiting as the trains quickly filled up and moved on down the line. The unfortunate evacuees that were left behind were infuriated and were beginning to clash with each other and police.
As Reese sped across the city on the bike, he was able to clearly view several of the major highways leading out of Houston. The evacuation routes were a nightmare on the grandest of scales. Some had already abandoned their vehicles on the side of the road and had taken to walking out of the city. The abandoned vehicles only added to the chaos. Some were not even fully out of the travel lanes. Frustration mounted as the remaining panicked motorists watched as entire families passed them on foot.
Most gas stations had been long ago depleted because of the collapsing economy, but somehow the roads leading out of Houston were still gridlocked with traffic. Reese imagined that most of the vehicles on the road had less than five gallons of gas in their tanks. He reasoned that tempers would soon flare, and fights would erupt between motorists as affability was exchanged for anarchy.
As he crossed over North Delano Street on Canal Street, the city presented a stark contrast. The homes were old and battered, the streets were in horrible condition and trash blew like tumbleweeds through the neighborhood. Security bars were on practically every door, and window-mounted air-conditioning units were caged in the Second Ward. He noticed that the area was lacking of any vegetation. Trees, bushes, and even grass was scarce in the bleak neighborhood.
Reese and the two rangers avoided any side roads since they were alone and highly exposed on the bikes. A scoped M4 carbine was slung across Reese’s back while his MP5 hung in front of him from a single point sling. He leaned in close to the bike and slalomed between abandoned vehicles and errant trash cans. The rangers, also equipped with M4s, followed closely behind his lead.
Less than a mile ahead, Reese could see several Humvees and cruisers in the road. Beyond them, he noticed several soldiers and officers sprinting for cover behind the vehicles. As he eased off of the throttle, he began to hear the gunshots.
He stopped several blocks back from the melee and shouldered his rifle to get a better view of the scene ahead. The two rangers stopped their bikes on either side of him. Reese saw an angry crowd of armed locals streaming towards the small group of emergency workers that were huddled behind the vehicles.
The assailants were taking cover behind front porch columns, crouching behind bullet riddled cars and leaning from the upper windows of nearby houses as they fired at the evacuation team. The gunfire was intense. The soldiers and officers were unable to retreat. They were helplessly pinned behind their vehicles and quickly being surrounded.
Reese got into position on a front porch that afforded him a protected view of the gunfight. He searched the street with his scope until he found his first target, a twenty to thirty year old male with two pistols that was firing indiscriminately towards the evacuation team. He exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger in the lull between breaths. He watched as the man stumbled and fell to the ground. He panned right and then left, connecting with several more assailants before the assault began to wane. The rangers also began to search and engage any armed residents that were a threat to the team ahead of them.
They continued to fire over the heads of their comrades at anyone beyond that was brave or foolish enough to step out from behind their cover. The suppressive fire afforded the pinned team the opportunity they desperately needed to retreat into their vehicles and escape from the scene. As th
e fleeing vehicles approached their position, Reese and the men ran back to their bikes and whipped back onto Canal Street. The merged in front of an approaching Humvee and used the silhouette of the larger vehicle to protect their backs as they fled the doomed Second Ward.
When they reached Highway 59, they turned south and rallied at the large parking lot east of the Astro’s stadium. The area was the site Reese had selected as the forward operating base for the evacuation. It was awash with communication vans, Humvees and a myriad of other support vehicles. Portable radio towers and generators were also visible. Reese motored over to a group of black communication vans, opened the back door of the largest one and stepped inside. The technicians looked to be under intense pressure.
“Update me, guys.”
A young guardsman, with thick eyeglasses, spun in his chair to face Reese and responded nervously, “Several of the evac teams are coming under fire from locals. The highways leading out of the city are close to gridlock and many residents are simply refusing to leave and become refugees.”
Reese let out a deep sigh and rested his hands on his head as he replied, “Do you have any good news?”
“Only that the METRORail and city buses seem to be functioning as hoped. They’ve evacuated close to thirty thousand people from downtown in a little over two hours. The crowds are getting anxious though; we’re getting reports from team members on the ground that they’re not sure how long before depots fall into complete disorder.”
“I don’t know if that’s good news, but I guess it’ll have to do. Tell the teams working the rail and buses to keep a tight leash on any troublemakers. If they need to make an example out of someone, do it. If chaos breaks out, then the evacuation breaks down and lots of people die. Understand?”
“Yes sir.”
“Tell all teams that’re broadcasting evacuation orders that if they come under fire, they are to fall back and move to the next area on their agenda. We don’t have the resources to perform a rescue of our own people.”
“Yes sir.”
“And have one of the choppers make a pass and see if they can locate any specific problem areas on the highways leading out of the city. If they see any disabled vehicles or other obstructions that are blocking traffic and causing gridlock, send some teams to remove them. We’ve got to keep traffic flowing. If we don’t, we’re going to have even more of a nightmare on our hands if this bomb actually goes off.”
“Yes sir.”
A second technician spun, thrust a phone towards Reese and said, “Agent Byers, it’s the governor.”
Reese grabbed the phone and said, “Hey, it’s me.”
“Reese, give me an update; how’s the city holding up?”
Reese paused for a moment before replying, “It’s not good. We need another day, maybe two to get everyone out, but I don’t think we’ve got that long. I just hope it’s not in the city already. Maybe we can intercept it.”
“All we can do is work as hard as we can with the time we’ve been given. I can’t tell you how grateful I am for what you’ve done already.”
“This is what I do; the impossible. This is where I should be.”
“Well, you’re a hero to all of Texas. Now, give me some updates on our objectives.”
“The bomb squads are sweeping areas considered likely targets. They haven’t found anything yet, but there is so much real estate to cover. We’re talking sixty and seventy story skyscrapers, huge government buildings, sports arenas – they’ve got a daunting task.
The interstates and highways are already close to gridlock. I never imagined there was enough fuel left in Houston to power this many cars. The lanes are already operating on contraflow and we’re trying to locate any congestion zones that we can relieve.
The METRORail and the buses are our bright spots, but they aren’t moving people quickly enough. It’s building up to a frenzy. In another couple of hours we may have riots at the depots. I told the teams working these locations to get heavy handed if they have to. We have to maintain order at the rail and bus stops.
Some of our evacuation teams are getting fired at by residents. They’ve been instructed to abandon an area if that happens. A lot of people are simply refusing to leave. Looters and vandals are taking to the streets also.”
“Dear God, don’t these people know their lives are at stake?”
The first technician waved another phone at Reese and mouthed, “Checkpoint Two.”
“Scott, I have to let you go; I’m getting a call from one of the checkpoints. I’ll try to call you in an hour or so and update you again.”
Reese hung up the phone before Governor Baker could respond and transitioned to the second phone call, “Agent Byers here; go ahead, Checkpoint Two.”
“Sir, we have a suspicious vehicle. Are you available?”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
Reese stepped back out of the black van and walked to his motorcycle. The rangers were still straddling their bikes with the engines idling loudly, waiting for their next instructions. Reese nodded and pointed two fingers at them, meaning Checkpoint Two, as he climbed back on the bike and started it again. The men nodded back and revved their engines in response. The three bikes rumbled loudly as they sped out of the parking lot and flew down South Freeway to the checkpoint at the Sam Houston Parkway junction.
Reese could see the box truck among the flashing blue lights of the cruisers in the distance ahead. As he approached, Reese realized the truck was actually swarmed by cruisers nearly a mile south of the blockade. By the look of the truck’s positioning, the driver had apparently tried to turn around upon seeing the checkpoint. Unfortunately for him, it was already too late.
As Reese and the rangers arrived at the box truck, he noted the logo on the side, Mountain Spring Water Company, Brownsville, TX. The officers were just pulling two men out of the cab. They were both about thirty years old and lanky. Reese noted that all of the color had drained from their faces.
“What’s going on here?” he asked.
One of the officers responded, “They tried to avoid our checkpoint but we got ‘em. They said they were making a delivery to downtown. When we asked to take a look in the back, they refused. That’s as far as we got before you arrived.”
Reese stared at the men for several seconds. He could tell his gaze made them uncomfortable.
“Open it up.”
An officer walked to the back of the truck and said, “Somebody grab some bolt cutters, it’s padlocked.”
A second officer retrieved some from cutters his trunk and rushed over. As they cut the lock and began to open the door, a hail of gunfire suddenly erupted from within, hitting both officers in the chest and head. The pair stumbled backwards and fell to the ground.
The remaining team members jumped with surprise, caught completely off guard by the ambush. Several men drew their service pistols and began to fire blindly into the side of the truck. The two rangers shouldered their carbines and slowly began to make their way to the open back door.
A second volley of gunfire exploded from within, this time in the direction of the pistol fire from the side. The rifle rounds ripped through the thin shell of the truck and pierced the air all around the team. The lanky driver was struck in the neck and sunk to his knees. He brought his hand up to his neck to try and stop the blood from gushing from his ruptured, carotid artery. His face was as white as the edge stripe on the pavement beside him. He began to go into shock.
A guardsman groaned in pain as he was struck in the shoulder. He dropped to one knee as his uniform began to blossom red. A deputy stumbled backwards and fell as a round hit him squarely in the chest. Reese grabbed the deputy, rolled him onto his side and began to hold pressure on the wound. In the confusion of the exchange, a voice could be heard shouting, “Hold your fire!” as a second voice called out repeatedly, “Medic!”
The rangers slowly and methodically began to slice the interior of the box truck, searching for the attack
ers. They tried not to focus on the large device that rested in the center of the freight area. They had to locate and eliminate the threat first. In spite of their focus, they could feel the hair on their arms and neck standing up.
The rangers finally spotted two men in the far corner of the interior, indiscriminately firing through the walls of the truck in the direction of the wounded officers. After two well-aimed taps from each rifle, the men dropped their guns and slumped in the back of the truck.
Reese called a guardsman over to relieve him, before he rushed to the rangers’ side. They stood motionless and speechless as they stared at the apparent, nuclear device. Reese paused for a moment, and then rushed to the two men inside of the truck. The men looked to be Hispanic. One of them was dead already, and the second was gravely wounded. Reese tossed the man’s rifle to the side, leaned in closely and growled in Spanish, “Who do you work for?”
The man lay motionless and said nothing.
Reese turned to yell for help carrying the man outside, but heard a faint whisper coming from the dying man.
Reese turned back to face him as the man repeated the phrase. His heart sunk as he recognized the language. The clean shaven man was not Hispanic at all. The dialect was Khaliji, or Gulf Arabic, as it was commonly called in the West. Khaliji differed from other Arabic dialects in that it borrowed heavily from the Persians. Reese knew without a doubt that the man was from somewhere along the shores of the Persian Gulf, most likely from Saudi Arabia, one of the gulf kingdoms or the southern coast of Iran.
The man defiantly repeated the phrase a final time in his native tongue, as if it was a dying prayer meant for his god rather than for Reese. Finally, his eyes rolled back in his head. The words ran through Reese’s head in a frantic loop. His head throbbed as the words echoed through it.
Reese numbly stepped out of the truck and onto the pavement. He was met by a guardsman that said, “Sir, we’ve called the bomb squad; they’ll be here in a few minutes. We did it! We saved the city!”
The Western Front - Parts 1-3 (Western Front Series) Page 19