by Nathan Combs
They returned to Fort-T the next afternoon and Wade called a meeting in the mess tent. “When the virus runs its course, we can think about a merger of all three groups and begin to rebuild civilization. In the interim, it’s nice to know we can meet and exchange information on a weekly basis.” He picked up Adam in one arm and April in the other. “It means you guys will have other kids to play with. Won’t that be fun? And, ladies, what can I say? You’ll be gaining new friends, have medical and teaching assistance, and extra chore help. Obviously, we’re going to gain some serious military expertise, and if it comes down to it, we’ll be a force to reckon with.”
Bill said, “Hell, Wade, we’re a force to be reckoned with now.”
Wade grinned and set the kids back down. “That’s true, we are, but think what an additional fourteen SPECOPS shooters would bring to the game.”
Three days later, Randal met with Joe and Master Sergeant Richard Cole, ex Delta Force and leader of the far northern group. Master Sergeant Cole wanted to have a full meeting with as many of the shooters as possible, as soon as possible.
He said, “Captain, knowing your group is in the vicinity is the best news we’ve had since this bullshit started. I’ve heard about your dad. I’d like to meet him. Besides, he is the ranking officer. Correct?”
“Yes. He is the ranking officer, and it’s a given he’ll be at the meet. Incidentally, knowing you guys are here is the best news we’ve received since—as you so eloquently put it—this bullshit started, too. Let’s set the meet here at the ranger camp for a week from today.”
One week later, Wade, Randal, and Bill made the hike to the Ranger group’s survival site and met the members of Delta Group. After introductions, Sergeant Watkins, Delta Force, asked Randal, “Do you remember me, Captain?”
“I do,” said Randal. “Operation Red Wings, Kunar Province.”
Randal, Sergeant Watkins, and two of the other shooters spent half an hour reminiscing about their part in Operation Red Wings against the Taliban in Afghanistan. During a lull in the camaraderie, Randal looked at Wade and nodded.
As the ranking officer, Wade stood and addressed the group of seasoned warriors. “Gentlemen, if I understand correctly, Delta camp consists of a number of small tents and a few log buildings. Ranger camp is comprised of a small cabin and a few tents. Don’t misunderstand me, you guys have done well, and you could continue to do well without the resources we have at Fort-T. But the key word is resources. We have a lot of the comforts of home at Fort-T. If you need anything in the way of medical supplies, or if you have dental needs, we have a dentist and a dental lab consisting of a bottle of Jack and a long string.”
Everyone chuckled.
“Actually, Randal’s wife is an ex-army dentist and can perform any dental work you need…excluding dentures, partials, and the like, of course. We also have a fully functional electrical system, ham radio communications, a first class medical facility, a Nurse Practitioner with a Doctorate in nursing, a registered nurse, and a certified botanist who maintains a viable hydroponics garden. We’re in good shape, so again, anything you need help with, let me know.”
Master Sergeant Cole stood and said, “Captain Coltrane, everyone in the SPECOPS community knows about you and your missions. We’ve talked about it amongst ourselves, and I respectfully request you assume command of both of our groups.”
Wade grinned. “Are you saying I’m a legend, Sergeant?”
Cole chuckled and said, “I wouldn’t go that far, sir, but you’re definitely in the bullpen.”
Wade was thoughtful for a minute, then nodded and said, “I’d be honored to be your commander. This is what we’re going to do. We’ll remain in place, as is, until we’re sure the Millennial Bug has disappeared. Then we’ll start looking at merging our resources. Until then, I want as many of your people who can make the trip, including women and children, to visit Fort-T as often as possible without compromising your site’s security. The women and children should get to know each other too.”
By the end of March, both groups had visited Fort Terminus numerous times. The women of all three groups meshed seamlessly together. Partially because they all had the same mentality and because of the situation they found themselves in, but mostly, they simply liked each other. They chatted, traded recipes, and talked about their kids, but never—not once—talked about the plague threatening them. The youngsters, needless to say, acted like kids everywhere. They ran around like chickens with their heads cut off, played games, pushed and shoved each other, and more than once, had to be scolded.
Shortly after one visit, Adam and April each grabbed one of Wade’s hands. Adam grinned up at his father and said, “What are you going to call the new army, Dad?”
“I’m not going to call them anything, Son.”
“But they have to have a name,” countered April.
“Yeah, Dad, they have to have a name. It’s a law.”
“It’s a law, huh? Whose law is it?”
“Me and April’s law.”
Wade chuckled. “Well, I wouldn’t want to break the law. I’ll tell you what. You guys pick the name.”
“We already have,” squealed April. “They’re the Fort Terminus Terminators.”
Watching them run innocently and gleefully away, he shook his head, smiled, and thought, Terminators? Not bad. Not bad at all.
That evening, walking the plateau with Wade, Maggie said, “When we merge, it will be the best thing that could possibly happen to us. Thank you, Wade.”
Wade shook his head and put an arm around Maggie’s shoulder, spinning her to face him. “You give me too much credit, Maggie. I was just in the right place at the right time.”
Taking his face in her hands, she said, “Modesty does not become you, my love. You, Wade Coltrane, are directly responsible for every one of the inhabitants of Fort-T being alive and healthy, and you’re also responsible for the incredible increase in morale of fifty plus human beings. So please, dispense with the aw-shucks attitude.”
“Does that mean The Beast can have a reward for good behavior?”
Maggie laughed. “Why do you have to make light of everything, Wade?”
“I’m not making light of anything, Mags. I’m just not comfortable with compliments. But mostly, I’m just being a normal, healthy, male who’s trying to take advantage of a good opportunity to get laid.”
Maggie smiled and fixed her best bedroom eyes stare on Wade. “Maybe later, big boy…maybe later.”
“Is that a definite maybe?”
******
March turned into April, and April into May, and by the beginning of June it looked like the Millennial Bug was history.
“That happened a lot sooner than I thought it would, Wade,” said Maggie. “I wish there was a way for us to be a hundred percent certain, but I can’t think of one.”
“Yeah, it’s a crap shoot. But under no circumstances are we sending anyone into Robbinsville to find out. We’ll continue with business as usual for another couple of months in case there’s a resurgence, or the information we’ve received is wrong.”
“Okay, that makes sense. But I have a really good feeling about this.”
The three groups continued to interact and by July it was agreed that sometime in the fall they would effect a merger. By the beginning of August, the Millennial Bug was officially another footnote in history, and Wade invited both groups to Fort-T for a special celebration during the last week in August.
“Leaving your sites unprotected is a risk, but that’s your call.”
Everyone attended a wildly successful celebration. Roughly three years after the SHTF, morale was high and the survivors had something to look forward to.
Chapter Five
Incursion
Standing at the edge of Fort-T’s plateau, Randal pondered the future. Now that the Millennial Bug was out of the picture and their survival groups had fallen into new routines and would soon be one community, it was time to consider other sur
vivors. There was no government, no medical assistance, no electricity, no water, and no civilization. People could manage without those services, but without food they would die. And starving people were dangerous people.
Silently cursing the night fog for reducing the effectiveness of his night vision goggles, he switched to thermal imaging and continued to scan the valley below. It was quiet, but he doubted it would remain that way for long. An assault was coming.
Carol and April were having a mother/daughter moment, standing on the plateau and gazing out over the valley. Randal joined them, but his attention was diverted to a brief reflection on the opposing mountain. Glassing the area, he saw nothing, but he and Bill immediately converged on the area and found the spot where someone had laid.
Wade moved silently to his son’s side.
“Everything quiet, Randal?”
“Yeah, so far, so good.”
“Roger. Nothing from Sean?”
“All quiet there too.”
Sean Fox was in the forward observation post. He was now 28 years old, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not gain weight. He was a beanpole. Before the collapse, he was a libertarian and there was nothing in the world he enjoyed more than verbal combat. When talking to him, unless you wanted to get involved in a philosophical discussion (his words), you chose your words carefully. Sean would argue about anything, at any time. He would even argue about the proper way to argue. When they started Project Terminus, he’d begun to change, and now was an irreplaceable and ultra-dependable member of Fort-T.
“I assume Chris is in the crow’s nest?
“Yes,” said Randal. “He’s on the Barrett.”
Ensconced in the crow’s nest, peering through the thermal imaging scope of the fifty caliber Barrett, Chris Coltrane—once known as one of the world’s best snipers—searched for targets.
Directly beneath Fort-T on a hundred-foot long knoll in the middle of the valley floor, Conner “Highlander” MacLeod hunkered behind the M249 Machine Gun, aka SAW (Squad Automatic Weapon). Highlander was now an accomplished warrior, and he loved the SAW, which fired up to 725 rounds per minute. He often joked it gave him wood every time he fired it, or even touched it. He patted the barrel and asked it, “You ready, girl?”
“When do you think they’ll come, Randal?”
“It depends on how far the scout—if that’s what he was—has to go to report in, and how organized they are. Most likely they’ll be coming from Robbinsville. It’s hard to imagine they’d use a horse for transportation and not food, so I think they’ll be on foot. If they are mobile, we could see them at sunset tonight, but best guess is at dawn tomorrow. As far as numbers go, I have no idea.”
“Okay, assemble the shooters at dawn in the OP for a powwow, and when the fog lifts, we’ll man the OP until we’re done. If they don’t show up today, we’ll re-instate the watch positions just before dusk, then rotate watches on the OP, the crow’s nest, and the SAW every four hours. Everyone not on watch sleeps.”
The sun was just peeking over the horizon when Wade began addressing the shooters. “All right guys, you know the drill. We’ve planned and practiced this for a long time. But, we have zero Intel. We don’t know who they are, how many they are, what their capabilities are, and no idea what their level of training is. So we need a prisoner; two, if possible. The rest are DOA. If they have horses and night vision gear, we expect an attack sometime this evening. If they’re on foot, which we think they are, we anticipate the attack will come early tomorrow morning. The fact is, we don’t know. It’s just a guess.
“Sean, I want you to grab some shut-eye. Bill will take over the OP until you get back. Make it 1700 hours. Chris, I know you don’t want to, but I need you to get off the Barrett and get some sleep. You can crash in the nest if you want to, but get off that weapon. Randal’s going to do a five-mile recon up the valley, past the OP. Highlander, you stay on the SAW for now. I’m going to go check on the women and kids and recon the backside of the mountain. Keep your headsets on, but maintain radio silence. When we communicate, we’ll use our call signs. Let’s do it.”
Everyone in Fort Terminus had a combat responsibility. Carol’s job was to coordinate the activities of the non-combatants and to ensure their escape if the Fort was over-run. She was sitting in the mess tent going over the game plan with them when Wade entered. When she saw him, she told the group she’d be back in a few minutes and motioned Wade to follow her outside.
Wade smiled and asked, “Everything all right, Carol?”
“Yeah, of course. But, Wade they’re scared. And so am I.”
Wade grabbed her shoulders and said, “Everyone’s scared, Carol. I am too. But I guarantee you no one—and I do mean no one—is getting into Fort-T. Keep them busy and keep it light. They’ll be fine. I’m counting on you. We all are.”
The opening to the cave was small, and like the plateau itself, difficult to see unless you knew it was there. It was decent size at twenty-seven feet long, averaging eighteen feet wide, and in places, twelve feet high. Wade entered and spent a moment examining the backpacks sitting against one wall. They contained basic survival gear and would be used in the event the Fort was over-run. It was Carol’s job to take the non-combatants into the cave, don the backpacks, exit through the crow’s nest, and disappear on the backside of the mountain. From there, she would lead them to a secondary site deep in the mountains.
Wade was always amazed how easy it was to climb the nine hundred-plus foot shaft to the crow’s nest, and he did so now in less than ten minutes. Upon exiting the shaft, he saw Chris lying behind the Barrett sound asleep. Watching him, he felt a deep sense of pride. Two of his boys had grown into men any father would be proud of, and he was in the process of raising his third. He was determined Adam and his granddaughter April would have a life beyond Fort Terminus. He stood lost in thought for a full minute, then abruptly turned and set out to recon the backside of the mountain.
Carol looked at the questioning faces of the six people she was responsible for, and mentally went over her assessment of each one. Linda was short in stature, but big in heart. She knew how to handle a firearm and could shoot. Maggie was Fort Terminus’s medical expert and as such was invaluable. She was also Carol’s best friend. Becky was now twenty-five, short, and slender, and like everyone else at Fort Terminus, in great physical condition. She was a lot tougher than she looked, and Carol knew she wouldn’t hesitate to fight. When she first met Jody, the girl was plump. Now, she was lean, mean, and mentally tough.
Then her gaze fell on April and Adam.
Her daughter was a well-adjusted, happy, intelligent nine-year-old girl who still believed in, of all things, the Easter Bunny. April appeared indifferent to the dangers that lurked in the shadows, and went about her life at Fort-T as though it was the most normal existence in the world.
Adam, while happy and carefree, was perhaps a bit too intelligent and intuitive for his age. The thing he wanted most in his young life was to be a warrior like his “Daddy Wade” and his “Uncle Randal.” And he made no bones about it. The boy was an excellent marksman, and Carol thought he had humongous stones for a ten year-old boy.
When her mini assessment was complete, she acknowledged that nothing in any of their lives was as important as protecting these two children. She knew everyone in this group would give their own life to ensure their survival.
Smiling at them, she sat down and said, “I know you’re all concerned, but this will be no different than one of our practices. The men are not going to allow anyone inside Fort-T. We’re not even a hundred percent certain any bad guys are coming. So this is nothing more than a precaution, okay? If we are attacked, you all know what to do. The bottom line is that no one is getting to us. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever.”
The day was uneventful, the evening came and went, and the witching hour approached. At midnight, Bill took over the OP and was relieved by Sean at 0400. At 0630 hours, the fog began to dissipate.
&nb
sp; Sean radioed in, “Thor, this is Apollo. I have movement.”
Randal said, “Copy, Apollo. Update when ready.” Then he woke up Wade, Bill, and Highlander.
Several minutes later, Sean’s hushed voice came across the radio. “Thor, I make eight Tangos on foot, now adjacent my position. They have AKs and M-16s. No uniforms, no formation, and man, they’re loud. The point man does have night eyes, over.”
“Copy, Apollo,” said Randal. “Stand by.”
Randal called Chris. “Eagle-One, did you copy?”
Chris replied from his position in the crow’s nest. “Affirmative. I have eyes on all eight targets. I confirm Apollo’s assessment. They’re loud and unorganized.”
In addition to Sean in the OP and Chris in the crow’s nest, Highlander was manning the SAW. A flanking position on the far right of the plateau served as command and control, and provided additional firing positions. It would be manned by Wade, Randal, and Bill. The sniper hide on the opposing mountain was unmanned.
After moving to the flanking position, Randal said, “Apollo, maintain position and watch for a second wave. Highlander, hold fire. Eagle-One, suppress your weapon and on my signal, take them out rear to front, or left to right, depending on their assault positioning. We need at least one POW. Preferably the guy with the night eyes, so try not to kill his sorry ass. Dad, you and Bill get ready to secure the POWs. Apollo, if any of them start hooking back towards you, keep at least one of them alive. All copy?”
Receiving five affirmatives, Randal eased into his position, and through his night vision goggles, watched the eight Tangos coming toward them.
Jesus, these guys are morons.
The Tango patrol continued noisily up the valley. When they were about 500 feet from the base of the fort, they stopped. The leader indicated what he wanted them to do and they fanned out in an attack position.
Randal keyed the mic. “Eagle-One, weapons hot, left to right. Our NVD guy is in the middle.”
“Copy,” said Chris.
Already lined up on the first target to the left, Chris touched off a round and the Tangos head exploded. In quick succession, he fired five more times. Although they didn’t hear the gunshots, you didn’t have to be the proverbial rocket scientist to know something was wrong. The big fifty caliber bullets striking their heads made a very loud THWACK in the quiet of the early morning. Diving for cover behind a boulder, the two remaining Tangos disappeared from view.