by Mark Rounds
_______________________________________________________
Captain Strickland
Please unload the duffel bags in the two cargo pods. A full list of the contents is in each of them. Take the bag marked 1(one) to a secure location and follow the instructions in the bag. Please unload this UAV quickly as we need to get it airborne and out of sight.
Colonel Antonopoulos
Chief of Military Intelligence
Northwest Military District
_______________________________________________________
Chad showed it to Dave who nodded and grabbed one of the heavy duffels and began dragging it back. That broke the ice and Sparky and the Grease Monkey ran over and grabbed the next two that Chad pulled out of the cargo pods. Chad struggled back with the last one. As soon as he cleared the road, he heard the engine spool up and he turned around just in time to see the drone take off. In a few seconds, it was out of sight.
June 3rd, Wednesday, 3:04 pm PDT
A wheat field in eastern WA
Macklin drove his van out into a wheat field near the University. He had planned to go further, but he had started developing tremors that quickly evolved into a full blown seizure. He had enough control to get the van stopped and to get outside into the wheat field before the seizure hit in full.
He had three more before he was finally able to regain control his body and it took another hour of just lying on the ground before he had the strength to get up. His clothes were soiled and he was exhausted. He was also in considerable pain. He was, however, mindful of the charge he had received at the doctor’s office so, as soon as he was able to sit up and get into his van, he pulled out his special cell phone. He pressed the speed dial for his control.
“Are you in a secure place?” the familiar voice asked.
“I am in the middle of a wheat field,” replied Macklin looking around. “There are no buildings within a mile and no people visible at all. It’s about as secure as you can get.”
“Very well then, we have a mission for you,” said the voice. “There has been a development with the Strickland family. It is now even more important than ever to capture Amber Hoskins alive.”
“Why couldn’t you choose something easy,” said Macklin hanging his head. “How about building a highway to Hawaii or scrubbing the Washington Monument with my tooth brush. Can’t you guys nuke them from space or something?”
“Perhaps our trust in you is misplaced? Perhaps we should find someone else to track these people down? I wonder how you will feel in a month when your precious pills run out? Consider for a moment …”
“No!” said Macklin forcefully, “you consider. You tried to replace me. It didn’t work out so well, did it? That druggie pro-football player really did a fine job, didn’t he? It appears that the populations you have control over are addicts and ne’er-do-wells. How is that working out for you?
“You really want this? This time, you will give me all the intel you have. This time, we won’t play Byzantine politics getting resources. I’ll tell you what I need. If you can’t get it, we don’t play. I have just spent the last three hours of my life going through hell with seizures. I suspect going cold turkey without Slash now will be even worse. I don’t feel like I have much to live for so if I think you are screwing with me again, I’ll put a bullet in my ear because this isn’t worth it. It’s your call, put up or shut up!”
“It looks like we have an understanding then,” said the voice over the phone. Proceed to Pru Field outside of Ritzville. It just …”
“I know where it is,” snapped Macklin.
“There will be a plane arriving as soon as we can lay one on,” said the voice. “There will be weapons, communications equipment, a specialist to help you through the rather painful withdrawal you’re about to go through, and to brief you and to explain the price of failure. You think that death is the worst thing that can happen to you and now, since you don’t fear death, you are impervious. There are worse things and while this frame of mind does give you some … latitude, you are not as free as you might think.”
June 3rd, Wednesday, 4:21 pm PDT
Royal City, WA
It had taken close to two hours to convince the folks in Royal City that what they had seen wasn’t space aliens but in fact a helicopter from the US Navy. Dave spun out an improbable tale about some of his old service buddies who were stationed off-shore in the destroyer USS Winston Churchill. They were short of food and were looking for handouts. As the BACA Bikers backed him up and told an equally fictitious tale of helping to load some of the supplies that Dave had in his truck, the locals appeared to buy it.
After the locals had left, Dave and the others had retreated to the office of the service station. Amber was off in an abandoned house keeping an eye on Chris. Heather was there with the younger children. Connor and Amy were lookouts and security. That left Mary, Chad and Dave from the original party and Smokey and Shaggy from the BACA chapter.
“OK folks,” said Chad as pulled up the first bag from the RPV, “I am going to open this. In all likelihood, this means you are going to be under the thumb of the US Government as the information it contains will most probably be classified. If you want to leave now and not deal with that, I’m cool.”
Mary came up and took Chad’s arm.
“I’ll keep the government’s secrets,” said Mary quietly. “Everything Chad has told me about what they are doing is right and hopefully will lead us back to something like a normal life.”
“OK,” said Dave with a smile. “I’m good with that. I am still in the reserves so I think I’m already covered by UCMJ. Chad is a serving Captain in the Air Force so that covers him.”
“But what about you two?” continued Dave as he indicated Smokey and Shaggy. “I wouldn’t blame you at all if you guys checked out and went on your way. This likely will only mean more work and risk for you.”
“I was a corporal in the First Cav during Desert Storm, driving a Bradley,” said Smokey. “My discharge was honorable. I was pretty fed up with the Army then. But I’m still an American. Hell, our club meets at the American Legion Hall. I am in. If that means I’m reenlisting, so be it. As long as they leave us out here so we can protect our kids, I’m good.”
“I wasn’t in like y’all were,” said Shaggy with more than a trace of Alabama in his voice, “but we protect our kids, that’s what BACA is all about. We’ve just been reacting to the mess the world is in. I want to look a bit beyond my nose, see if we can do some good for all the kids. I'm in.”
“OK, what that means is that I am enlisting you two as agents for the US government,” said Chad, remembering the pamphlet that the Gunny Epstein had given him about recruiting agents. “That means that you are the eyes and ears of the forces at Fort Lewis. The scope of what you will be asked is … rather wide but mostly consists of watching and reporting. Are you still in?”
“I am,” said Smokey after a pause.
“Damn, does this mean I’m a spook?” asked a suddenly animated Grease Monkey.
“I suppose so,” said Dave not bothering to hide a grin.
“Cool! I always wanted to be a secret agent,” said the Grease Monkey. “Let’s do it!”
“OK, let’s do it then,” said Chad smiling.
He broke the seal on the bag marked with big white “1”. He pulled out a number of sealed packages that were marked secret and appeared to hold books and binders. There was also a satellite phone with batteries, solar panels and a hand cranked generator along with a list of instructions.
“It says here,” said Chad, reading the instructions, “that we are to open the package marked ‘1.1’ and it will contain authentication codes. Then it suggests we put up the solar array and pick up the phone.”
Shaggy ran the wire and the array out to the parking lot. Chad looked around and then picked up the phone. A stencil on the phone said ‘Dial +1111’.
Chad dialed and a male operator came on the line.
; “Please press the encrypt button,” said the operator.
Chad did so and there were a couple of seconds of static and then the operator came on again.
“Authenticate Xray, Oscar,” said the operator.
Chad looked into the codebook for the correct date.
“Mike, Bravo,” said Chad, as he dredged up the military phonetic alphabet.
“Authentication correct,” said the operator. “Please stand by; Col Antonopoulos will be with you shortly.”
Incredibly, elevator music came on. Chad looked the phone over and punched the speaker button so everyone could hear.
“Colonel Antonopoulos here,” said a familiar voice on the phone after a few seconds. “I have Capt Nixon, Staff Sgt Wilson, and Dr. Grieb on this end. All have been cleared to Top Secret NOFORN.”
“Roger,” said Chad, trying really hard to remember proper comm procedures. “I have with me Major David Tippet, USMC retired, my wife Mary Strickland, and … Smokey …”
“Corporal Harland Milton, USA … honorable discharge,” said Smokey with a smile, “and here with me is William Smith, our mechanic.”
“Our clearances are all across the board,” said Chad, with a laugh. The William Smith alias was not lost on him. “We had better treat this as unclassified. I can personally attest through testing and observation that no one is infected.”
“It’s good to hear your voice again, Chad,” said Col Antonopoulos. “We have had some developments and I figured it was time to get you briefed and equipped. We saw your engagement at the bridge. I am sorry we couldn’t help; if this comm had been in place, I could have at least given you some intel.
“Care to brief me on the people in the room who were not members of the military?”
“Yes, sir,” said Chad. “Mary Strickland is my wife; we met in college after my time in the service. I will vouch for her ability and willingness to maintain op sec.”
“You better, buster,” said Mary with a grin. “Besides, I want to be there when you find these miscreants who started all this and beat them to a bloody pulp with my Granda’s shillelagh.”
“The two others are members of the local Bikers Against Child Abuse chapter,” said Chad with a wink toward Mary. “Without their help, we wouldn’t have been able to break through the Infected barricade at the bridge. Their motives are good. I have briefed them on the duties of being agents for the US Government and they have accepted that.”
“OK good,” said Andy. “From now on, Captain Nixon will be your control. He will get up any time day or night when you need to talk to him. Corporal Milton, I am hereby reinstating you to your old military rank. At some point, you will actually get paid, in what, we are not sure, but you’re back in the Army now.
“Mr. ‘Smith’ … you are now also employed by the US Government. You are subordinate to the Corporal here and have the title Agent Smith.”
“Hot damn,” said the Grease Monkey.
“So down to business,” said Col Antonopoulos. “In the bags we sent you is some equipment I hope you can use. In the first bag, we have four satellite phones with four sets of codes. Each code is specific to the user. We can decrypt everything back here, but all you can decrypt is what we send specifically to you. It keeps individual cells safer this way. From now on, Chad’s group will recruit its own cell. Corporal Milton, you and your chapter will recruit a different cell. Don’t communicate membership details to anyone save Capt Nixon here. Each of you will take two comm units. Use them wisely. One is your link back here, the other is for you to share with someone you think will make a good recruiter for another cell.”
“I have a question,” said Smokey, aka Corporal Milton. “We are going to start a chapter of BACA here in Royal City. The local bikers are impressed with how we have run off some of the bad dudes from around here. So they are probably a cell, sort of, what is the procedure?”
“Capt Nixon here, I am not imposing any form of organization on you. Set it up the way you normally would. Then pick one or at most two people that you trust and go through the briefing in the pamphlet and sign them up. Keep the number small and the fact that you work for us confidential. It will be safer for you that way. Don’t tell Chad and his group who they are. They will be safer if someone gets compromised.”
“So what do we report?” asked the Grease Monkey.
“Right now,” said Nixon, “we don’t know what groups are out there, either infected or clean. For instance, we had no idea the BACA clubs were still functioning and uninfected. We also need to know what traffic is moving around. So watch the roads, notice any strangers who show up where you live and work. There will be other requests. Mostly it will be contacting someone or helping out another cell. Hopefully, it will be pretty boring.
“There are some other items in your kits. Bag two has some medical supplies. We noted via drone intel that at least one and possibly two of your party are injured. Hope this helps. It’s broken down into two kits, one for the BACA Chapter and one for Chad’s group. There are two AT-4’s in the bag marked three. That MRAP you had trouble with is still in the Tri-Cities and it’s mobile, if a little singed. These should help if you run into it again.”
“With your permission, Colonel,” said Mary, “I need to get these supplies up the hill. Amber used to be a paramedic and I think she could use some of this, compression packs and the antibiotics and such, right now on Sergeant Vaughn, who was injured.”
“Go ahead,” said Capt Nixon.
The Grease Monkey walked her out and nodded to a waiting biker who ran her up the hill.
“The final bag,” said Nixon, “has an M-183 demolition charge assembly with 16, one-and-a-quarter-pound blocks of C-4 and along with electrical detonators, det cord, remote control detonators, and timed fuses. I know Major Tippet is familiar with these tools so they are mainly for him. There are also four silenced MP-5’s with five magazines each. I hope you don’t need them, but we need to keep you alive.”
“OK,” said Chad, “we are organized and we can brief in detail later; right now, I want to know what intel you have. You know where we are headed. I suspect that Smokey will want to go back across the bridge. What have you got?”
“Macklin is still alive,” said Nixon. “We have radio intercept traffic on a disposable cell phone that is linked to him. The SWAT van he attacked you with is in the Cheney area. There has been a disruption of some sort with his group in the Tri-Cities and it is disintegrating into small groups. The MRAP is still there. We will keep you updated on their situation. Given your history, I would avoid Cheney for now.”
“After the kids are safe,” said Dave, “I may want to go hunting.”
“We don’t condone freelancing, Major Tippet,” said Col Antonopoulos sternly. “I want him as much as you, but if we decide to take him, it will be for interrogation, not a revenge killing. Is that clear?”
“As a bell, sir,” said Dave.
“From a strategic side,” said Col Antonopoulos in a calmer tone, “Macklin is a little fish. I want to know who he works for so I can question them. Then we can all happily join in with Ms. Mary and her shillelagh.”
“OK, next on the list,” said Capt Nixon, “the mob on the Columbia Bridge has blocked it again. Corporal Milton, do you need to transit back?”
“I do,” said Smokey. “I have an orchard and my wife is waiting there along with some of our members. If the local Warlord thinks we’re weak, he’ll hit us.”
“You can brief me on this Warlord character later,” said Nixon, “I’m interested. Right now, I am concerned about how you plan to get back. I’m sending the pictures our drone is taking now. You can see that they have moved a pickup into the gap you rammed your way through. I doubt if you could bump it out of the way quickly, even if your truck was in working order.”
“Leave that one to me,” said Dave with a smile. “I’ll build you a shaped charge that we can use to flip the truck end for end.”
“Won’t that take a lot of explosive?�
� asked Chad, who wanted to conserve the newly acquired resources.
“I intend to use just one block,” Dave replied smiling, “with a little assist from the Munroe effect. Smokey will have to get the charge under the rear axle, but if he can do that, I think I can pop the rear end of the truck up in the air and maybe even over the side.”
Chapter 3
June 4th, Thursday, 5:58 am PDT
Pru Field outside of Ritzville, WA
Macklin was dozing in his van when he heard the sound of an aircraft coming in for landing. A Beach King Air twin engine turboprop was on final approach. This was the first plane to come in since he had arrived last night, and he wasn’t taking any chances. It could easily be someone who heard their conversations and likely, his boss would bring some of his own security personnel with him. This time, they weren’t going to push him around. One of the pieces of ordinance that they had thoughtfully stocked his van with was an AR-15. There was little body armor which could turn its green tipped bullet at close range.
He still wasn’t feeling all that well. During the night, he had been awakened several times by seizures, though they were lessening in intensity, and vomiting. Food held no attraction for him and he knew he was dehydrated. His swelling was down but not gone and while his shoulder functioned just fine, it was still quite painful.
The plane touched down and taxied toward his van. Macklin got out wearing a tactical vest and with his AR-15 in hand. There was a magazine in the well and a round in battery. He was taking no chances.
The plane came to a halt not fifty feet from him. As predicted, two professional security guards were first out with their MP-5’s. While they eyed Macklin carefully, they didn’t move to disarm him. When the engines finally spooled all the way down, Macklin’s boss exited the aircraft.
“I see you made it here,” said the grey-haired man. “You can put that rifle down, it’s not needed.”