“I need details, Györgi. Take a breath and tell me everything.”
As succinctly as he was able, Györgi outlined the situation for his brother, and the plan he and Mwangi had hurriedly come up with. Karoly and Adder would load the Gulfstream with as many Chinese troops as they could and immediately fly to the repaired airfield outside Prescott, Arizona. Once there, they would be met by someone named McComb, who would smuggle them into Overtime, at which time they would join General Steeple and effect a coup.
“What about Fleming?”
“Apparently he’s in northern California. That battle week before last? He was there.”
“Fascinating… it’s a bold plan, brother, not like you at all.”
“Fuck off, Karoly. We’ve already lost three days.” He didn’t say that part of that delay was his fault. “Just do it.”
“I think it’s an excellent plan, but I’m going to make one change. There’s no reason for me to go. I’m no soldier, and it leaves one more space for someone who is.”
“Afraid you might wrinkle your pants?”
“That’s always a concern,” Rosos said. “When do we expect Angriff back?”
“Nobody knows, so you need to hurry.”
“Right… but Adder just left for some place up north. I’ll have to get him back before we can do anything. But you know, this could work. I’m proud of you, brother.”
“Like I said, fuck off.”
“Now that I think about it, I’ll go second. It never hurts to personally manage affairs.”
“How’s California?”
“Cold and wet. Might as well be in North Dakota.”
“Fuck off.”
#
Chapter 28
We write our names in the sand; then the waves roll in and wash them away.
Augustus Caesar
1 mile west of Sanders, AZ
0852 hours, April 26
Far to the east of Angriff’s column, a second line of vehicles idled on old Interstate 40 beside a sign that tilted to the left. Rusty holes in the green face showed where bullets had ripped through the metal at some time in the past, but the letters could still be read: SANDERS, with an arrow pointing right.
Standing in the turret of his LAV-25, with the visor of his Integrated Helmet Protection System flipped up, Captain Martin Sully scanned a pair of silos half a mile away. The IHPS had been the last generation of helmets designed for the army and drastically increased protection for the head, but Overtime didn’t have many. As a reward for their suicidal stand the year before, Dog Company had received a full complement from the limited supply available.
Scaffolding surrounded both silos. A road passing over Interstate 40, with another green sign that pointed to an off-ramp and read ST. JOHNS, had collapsed, partly blocking the highway. Sully saw no signs of life.
The line of vehicles which comprised Dog Company, First Marine Recon Battalion, First Marines, better known as Task Force Kicker, stood parked behind him on both shoulders of Interstate 40. To the south stretched empty desert, while to the north a second line of armored fighting vehicles marched into the distance like paving stones.
All of the AFVs were shut down to save fuel, which also shut down the heaters. Sully never showed emotion or discomfort, he considered it bad leadership, but even through his helmet he could hear the grumbling from his crew. Temps the night before dipped into the low thirties and in April the days didn’t warm up until later in the morning. Chill lingered in the metal shell and they hadn’t driven far enough to warm it up. But Sully wasn’t going to be rushed into reconnoitering an unknown urban environment because of some minor nuisance, even such a small town as Sanders had once been.
Finally, having given the point time to trip any ambushes or locate any IEDs, he flipped down the microphone. “Crank ’em up, Dog Company. We’re a long way from anywhere, so stay alert. Don’t crowd the MARSOCs but stay close enough for immediate support. First Platoon, take the lead” Flipping a switch took him off the company’s comm. network and into the LAV’s intercom. “Stiggers, I want to go in after Second Platoon. Keep your eyes open.”
Two Marine reconnaissance companies represented a tremendous amount of firepower, but it didn’t take long before Sully realized that Sanders was a ghost town. The Marines cleared every building looking for signs of recent life. They found a few old fires and a lot of snakes, but nothing more. Only on the far northern fringe did the Marines discover signs of recent human activity, in the form of horses’ hoofprints, at least a dozen and probably more. The best guess was that they were several days old.
Sully parked on a low ridge on the east side of town and watched the two companies work. Scouts had gone ahead to check out the Querino Canyon bridge.
Noon was still an hour and a half away when the commander of First Platoon, Lt. Onni Hakala, pulled up next to him and got out of his Humvee. “The tracks lead off to the northwest, Captain. No sign of who made them.”
“Nothing to indicate Rednecks?”
“No. Could be anybody.”
Sully nodded. “And the town?”
“It’s dead, Captain. Nobody’s lived here for a long time.”
“Makes you wonder, doesn’t it?”
“I don’t follow.”
“Where’d they all go? From the looks of it, at least a couple of hundred people lived here. What happened to them? Did the Sevens come through here? Some other bandits? Some kind of plague?”
“Plague? Now you’re making me nervous, Marty.”
“Sorry, Onni, I didn’t mean to. I was just thinking out loud. Well, forget that, we’re moving east and don’t need to worry about lines of supply right now. I’m going to give both companies forty-five minutes’ rest and then we’re outta here.”
“You think that Idaho Jack guy was dealing straight on where we can find Shangri-La?”
“I don’t know. I’d like to think so, but that’s not our mission. We’re out here to collect data on the oil pumping and refining facilities, and now it’s time to move east. If we find Shangri-La, that’s gravy.”
#
Chapter 29
They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night.
Edgar Allan Poe
Creech Air Force Base
1531 hours, April 26
Turning off the highway and driving through the front gate of Creech Air Force Base, the difference between the grounds there and the ruins they’d driven through for the past three hundred miles struck Angriff as dramatic. It wasn’t the vegetation, which was overgrown with only sparse grass left in former lawns and opportunistic shrubs and cacti growing in its place, nor the condition of the roads where potholes and cracks made drivers pay attention. To him it was buildings, where some of the roofs showed signs of repair and doors hung straight in their doorways, and most of the glass remained in the windows.
When his Humvee rounded a corner and entered the tarmac, he saw two lines of people standing at attention in front of three Comanches. Vehicles from the previous column that had brought the paratroops were scattered around the vast space of the hangars and runway.
General Kando was easily recognized in the front rank by his worn and mismatched Air Force uniform, and the gray hair rimming his dark face. Angriff’s Humvee stopped near the man and he stepped out and shook hands, blinking as dirt got into his eyes. Building clouds in the west spawned wind gusts that blew sand and dirt across the concrete, which prompted Angriff to suggest moving the welcomes inside.
Moving past the parked Comanches as their crews stood to attention, he stopped beside Tank Girl. For a few seconds, he stared at the big helicopter, then walked over to say hello to the two lieutenants standing beside her. As he approached, they held their salutes and became even more rigid.
Returning their salute, he put out his hand. “At ease, Lieutenant… Wang?”
“Yes, sir. And this is my co-pilot, Lieutenant Pra Sakoya.”
“Take good care
of this Comanche, Lieutenant. It’s a vital asset.”
“We will, General and — I believe I speak for Lieutenant Sakoya — we really hope Captain Randall and Lieutenant Carlos are found soon, alive and well.”
“We all do, Lieutenant, but thank you.” He saluted and rejoined Kando.
#
Once Angriff was out of earshot, Sakoya elbowed Wang. “You are such a damned liar.”
“What did you want me to say? Hey, General, your son-in-law was overrated and the squadron’s better off with me flying his bird?”
“At least that would have been honest.”
“Yeah, and we’d have been shoveling horse shit for the mounted regiment.”
“Don’t include me in your vendettas, Ted. I happen to like Joe and Bunny.”
“Carlos is okay, but Randall? He’s an arrogant prick.”
Sakoya shook her head and walked off. “You should know.”
#
Angriff followed Kando through the door and immediately saw a first sergeant in a dirty uniform standing at attention.
“At ease, Top,” he said, and stopped. “What’s your name?”
“Wardlaw, sir. Permission to ask the general a question?”
“Granted.”
“The man Green Ghost… is he really a colonel?”
The question took Angriff aback. “Why do you ask?”
“If he is, sir, then I owe him an apology. If he’s not, then I need to report someone for impersonating an officer.”
“I see. To answer your question, yes, Top, he’s a full colonel. He’s also our S-5, in charge of security for the entire brigade. Will there be anything else, Sergeant?”
“No, sir.”
“Then carry on.”
Angriff resumed walking, but had to crack half a smile when behind him he heard someone say, “I told you so. You owe me twenty bucks if we ever use money again.”
He’d taken five steps when another sergeant stood to attention, one he recognized. The name on her uniform read Rossi. “At ease, Sergeant Rossi. Aren’t you Captain Randall’s crew chief?”
“Yes, General—”
“You and your people did amazing work getting that C-5 operational in such a short period of time. Because of your knowledge and efforts, the brigade won a great victory, instead of suffering a catastrophic defeat. There’s a citation in this for you and your crew.”
“Thank you, sir, but…”
“Ask me, Rossi. You don’t strike me as somebody who’s afraid of officers.”
“Uh… yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. I mean—”
He held up a hand. “It was my poor attempt at humor, but if I had to guess, you want to know if I’ve heard anything about Captain Randall.”
“That’s correct, General, the captain and Lieutenant Carlos.”
“Of course.” When she said Carlos’ name, Rossi leaned forward an inch and her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Few people would have noticed, but Angriff did, and knew what it meant. “Lieutenant Carlos is special to you?”
“I… I…”
“It’s all right, Sergeant. In the old Army, fraternization between officers and enlisted was forbidden, but that was then and this is now. You’re not in trouble.”
She swallowed hard and nodded. “He is, General. Special to me, I mean.”
“I wish I had good news to share with you, but no, we’ve haven’t heard anything. But now that we’ve brought fuel, the helicopters can be used to search the desert.”
“A plane that big can’t be too hard to find.”
“May I ask your first name, Rossi?”
“Frances, General.”
“That’s a nice name. Let me caution you against giving up, Frances. In my experience, you can’t make assumptions about these kinds of things. There’s always something going on that you can’t see and don’t know about.”
“Do you really believe that?”
He let it go that she questioned his honesty. “I do. Never give up hope, Frances. Say a prayer if that’s your way, and let’s see what happens.”
As he walked away, she called after him. “General?”
“Yes?”
“Sergeant Moro was lead on the repair of the C-5, sir.”
“Moro… thank you, Frances, you’re a credit to your country.”
#
1620 hours, April 26
The short nights had begun taking their toll and Angriff wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep, but instead he let Kando show him around two of the hangars, the flightline, and some of the buildings before the sun set. He’d sent Major Iskold out by herself to gather information that might be hidden or glossed over for his benefit. As they walked together, accompanied by six men detailed by Colonel Young as escorts, Kando filled him in on how Creech came to still be occupied by him and his people.
Finally, with mosquitoes out in full force and the sun getting low, Kando said, “Let me show you my headquarters, General Angriff.”
Show me a chair, he thought. Age had begun to show hints of the future in his aching calves and burning feet, although walking for hours on concrete might do that to anyone. Regardless, he wanted nothing more than to rest for a few minutes.
“There’s still a lot to show you, but that can wait until tomorrow.”
“I hate to ruin your plans, General Kando, but we pull out at dawn. We’re leaving behind a powerful force, but the main body of the regiment is heading north at first light.”
“Oh.” Kando stopped and touched his arm. It wasn’t a gesture Angriff welcomed from another man, but he only gritted his teeth and said nothing. “I’m sorry to hear that. I wanted you to see our library. We’re really proud of it.”
“Your… library? You mean like a book library?”
“That’s right. I hated to see all those books go to waste, so whenever we happened to find any I brought them here.”
“A library… I’ll be damned. General Kando,” and here he put his hand on the man’s shoulder, “I’d very much like to see that right now, if we could.”
#
Creech Air Force Base Library
“Oh… my…” Angriff said, staring from the doorway into the room filled with books. Every shelf was crammed with them. Stacks on the floor leaned this way and that, and some had toppled. He couldn’t help gawking. “General Kando, if you had done nothing else but rescue these precious artifacts, you would have achieved something admirable.”
“I like to read.” The portly Kando swept dust off the sleeves of his threadbare uniform coat.
Angriff noticed. “Relax… Jamal? Is that right? Take the coat off, for pity’s sake. The day’s been warm enough already.”
“Thank you, but I’m fine, General Angriff.”
“Call me Nick. How long did it take to collect all of these?”
“I don’t know, a long time.”
Angriff picked up a few books and shuffled through them. He held up a paperback with three figures on the cover aiming futuristic weapons. “This looks interesting.”
Kando squinted at the title and author. Integration, by Jonathan Brazee. “I’ve read that one. It’s really good. The author was a retired Marine colonel. I wouldn’t have taken you for a science fiction fan.”
“Sci-fi, fantasy, and military history are all I read as a kid. My dad didn’t like the fiction stuff, but since I also read history, he left me alone. You don’t have any Four Horsemen Universe books, do you?”
“I don’t think so. Who wrote it?”
“It was dreamed up by two guys named Chris Kennedy and Mark Wandrey. I read the first ones right before… well, right before I joined Operation Overtime. Great books, lots of fun. Anyway, if you run up on any of those, let me know, okay?”
“I certainly will.”
He held up the paperback. “Mind if I take this on the road with me? I’ll bring it back.”
“Mind? Well… no, General, I don’t mind. Take what you want. If you like science fiction, there’s another one arou
nd here called Jurassic Jail I really liked. ”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. Let’s see if we can find it. And call me Nick, damn it. ”
#
Chapter 30
This I must fight against: any idea, religion, or government which limits or destroys the individual.
John Steinbeck
Port of Long Beach, California
1709 hours, April 26
Trade winds whipped Károly Rosos’ light auburn hair as he stood with folded arms, staring west over San Pedro Bay. Generalissimo Zhang Wei stood on his left and Adder on his right. Two steps forward, and he’d fall off the concrete quay into the water. Less than a mile at his back, the SS Queen Mary listed hard to port at its permanent berth.
Neither of his companions was happy about the meeting, Adder because he’d driven north and then immediately been dragged back south, and Zhang because he didn’t like working so late in the afternoon.
Thousands upon thousands of rust-streaked containers lined every available foot of space through the port. Rosos stood between four cranes mounted on tracks that allowed them to slide back and forth to unload ships, or would have if they still functioned. Forklifts stood where they’d been abandoned. What the port lacked was life. Once upon a time, it had hosted hundreds of major cargo ships daily. Tens of thousands of people had worked there, not just dock workers but managers, customs officials, and salesmen. Now there were only rats.
Sunken ships choked the port and bay. In particular, a fleet of military transports lay in the main channel, with masts and superstructures jutting above the waterline. A quarter mile offshore, Rosos saw clouds of marine birds circling the conning tower of a Chinese destroyer.
“That is the Yinchuan,” Zhang said in Mandarin. “She went down when the Americans attacked during the course of our landings. We didn’t think they had any ships left that were operational, but they did. It was a long and terrible fight; many died on both sides. Eventually the remaining Americans sailed north and never bothered us again. Across the harbor is the hulk of the Kunlun Shan. That is the ship I came in.”
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