As he tried to regain his feet, he found the open barrels of two 9mm pistols pointed directly at his face. Behind the pistols, he could see the two stern-faced agents glaring at him. “Well, at least you’ll be sending me to prison! Three hots and a cot!”
“Guess again, asshole!” said Agent Abigail Saint. She kept her pistol pointed at Pike while her partner snapped handcuffs on the man. “You’re going back across the Mississippi. And your file here will be tagged ‘Undesirable/Rejected’. So don’t even waste your time, or ours, by trying to come back!”
Less than an hour later, Pike was taken by boat to the eastern side of the Mississippi River. The boat didn’t dock or ground itself. Pike was hoisted over the railing and found himself in shallow water. While four other agents stood guard with semi-automatic weapons, an agent unlocked the handcuffs on Pike’s wrists. The agent pointed eastward, “Go on…and don’t attempt to re-enter the U.S.” Two other prisoners were released as Pike waded ashore. Pike walked into the woods near the shore and disappeared.
**********
November 23rd, 1325 hours
U.S. Border Security Station
Barnesfield Road, King George County, VA
The sheriff turned on the video recording system before he started the interview. “This is Sheriff Dane Clifton, King George County, Virginia. I’m interviewing Miss Clarissa Fremont of New York. With us is…”
“That’s Ms.” Clarissa Fremont corrected the sheriff. “Not miss or missus, Ms.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Clifton responded politely. “I’m interviewing Ms. Clarissa Fremont of New York. With us is Sarah Washington, U.S. Border Patrol. Now, Ms. Fremont, would you tell us your story, please.”
“Yes, sheriff,” Fremont answered. “I’m a lawyer with a major firm in New York City. I was on my way to being one of the youngest partners in the firm when the breakup of the old United States occurred. My work involved working closely with numerous international clients who frequent New York City and my lover and I lived in Manhattan. As conditions in the city began to worsen, I suggested to my girlfriend that we leave…head some place where conditions were more stable. But conditions were bad all along the East Coast and with air travel disrupted to the West Coast, we weren’t sure where to go.”
Fremont paused for a moment before continuing. “We were hesitant to head towards the new United States. Both of us fled very conservative families when we…discovered our sexual preferences. We didn’t want to be second class citizens with no rights…”
Sarah Washington interrupted. “Ms. Fremont, are you saying you are gay?”
Fremont turned her head slightly to look the Border Patrol agent in the eyes. “Bisexual actually, Ms. Washington.”
“Agent Washington, if you please,” replied the BP agent with a smile. “And you were worried about being discriminated here in the new United States because of your sexuality?”
“In a word…yes!” responded Fremont.
“And you think the new U.S. is some kind of right-wing, ultra-conservative police state?” asked Clifton.
“Isn’t it?” Fremont asked in return.
Clifton looked at Washington then at Fremont before answering. “Wa’al, I’d say we’re somewhere between conservative and libertarian, myself. Agent Washington, what would you say?”
“Pretty much the same thing, Sheriff Clifton,” replied Washington. “Ms. Fremont, if you must know, the sheriff and I are both gay…and are accepted here in the U.S.”
Fremont couldn’t hide her expression of shock! “How…how’s that possible?” she asked.
“Well, not everyone in the United States is far right and ultra-religious,” Sheriff Clifton began. “And not everyone is against lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender rights. There have been LGBT conservatives for a long time, before and after ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ and all that. The difference is the manner in which the issues have been addressed here.”
Washington nodded. “Militant action can indeed attract attention to an issue, but it doesn’t help ordinary people buy into the issue. Militancy can alienate as many people as it gains support from. We’ve accomplished great things here through mutual respect. Instead of flaunting our differences, we chose to start with our similarities…a belief in a sovereign country with strong borders and defense, low taxes, personal responsibility, and limited government. Once we found just how many topics we truly agreed upon, then we discussed the topics we didn’t agree upon. We explained our issues while being considerate of theirs. You see, it has to be a two-way street!”
“But they have to respect our rights…” Fremont began, only to be cut off by Washington.
“…and we must respect theirs! They have a right to their beliefs and opinions as much as we do ours. If we try to shove our demands in their face, of course they’ll resist. Ms. Fremont, have you ever asked yourself what conservatives want to conserve and why so many were republicans?”
Fremont looked at the two interviewers with a quizzical expression. “I thought they just wanted to hold on to the old ways of doing things…”
“Yes and no,” Clifton said softly with a chuckle in his voice. “Conserve also means to protect and a republican, a true republican, believes in preserving the republic that defends and upholds the God-given rights of each individual.”
“But the United States was a democracy,” Fremont countered.
Clifton shook his head. “No ma’am! That’s a common misconception and I’m surprised that someone with your level of education doesn’t know this. The United States of America was…and the new one IS…a federal, constitutional republic with representative democracy where majority rule is tempered by minority rights which are protected by law.”
The sheriff stopped for a moment and looked at both women. He smiled and laughed, then continued, “Wow! Mrs. Fisher, my high school civics teacher, would be mighty proud of me now for remembering all of that!”
Washington smiled at her friend and patted him on the shoulder then turned to Clarissa Fremont. “You see, Ms. Fremont, in a democracy, the majority can vote away the rights of the minority. In a constitutional republic, they can’t. So we had to find a way to meet the needs of as many people as we could without stepping on the rights of others! And, being civilized beings, we learned to compromise with each other. In the new U.S., we have accomplished that.”
“Do they allow gay marriage here?” Fremont asked.
“Yes, in a manner of speaking,” said Clifton with a smile. “We call it a consensual bond here, with all of the same benefits…and pitfalls…of a marriage; simply with a different name so as not to offend those who feel marriage is between a man and a woman. My spouse and I were ‘bonded’ to each other two years ago. Father John, our pastor, performed a really beautiful ceremony. We didn’t ask anyone who might be uncomfortable to attend or to assist and because we didn’t step on the beliefs of others, they didn’t step on ours. We can legally insure one another, share property, and all those other legal and societal rights of a married couple. Hell, we can even go to couple’s counseling or get a divorce, if need be!”
Washington added, “Again, we reached a compromise that was the least offensive to everyone for the good of the republic. This is part and parcel of being a citizen of the republic and being personally responsible for your own behavior. This is where Carrington and her party failed the American people. They tried to ram their Progressive…Marxist, really…agenda down the people’s throats…force everyone to accept their worldview. It was their way or the highway. We in the United States chose the highway!”
Clifton leaned forward and asked softly, “Ms. Fremont, pardon me for being blunt, if you were so dead set against coming to the new United States, why are you here now?”
Clarissa Fremont shifted nervously in her chair. Obviously, she felt uncomfortable opening up to the sheriff and BP agent. Finally, she took a deep breath and began to speak. “I was raised on a ranch in southwestern Oklahoma. My folks were your avera
ge, Bible Belt parents with Midwestern values. Suffice it to say, when I discovered I like boys and girls, I didn’t feel exactly comfortable telling them about it.” Fremont paused for a moment then drew an e-cigarette kit from her pocket. She raised an eyebrow to her interviewers and they nodded their assent. After a couple of puffs, Fremont continued her story.
“I knew I didn’t want to stay in southwestern Oklahoma and I had the grades to get a scholarship to a major state university elsewhere. After a couple of years at that university, I transferred to Harvard and continued my education and evolution from small town girl to big city lawyer. It opened my eyes to a whole new world. But I began to realize recently that the direction the People’s Socialist States were going was unsustainable. Societal collapse exacerbated by financial and systemic failure of government at all levels,” Fremont said in a matter-of-fact voice. When she saws the looks on her interviewers’ faces, she smiled and explained, “My minor was in governmental psychology.”
Fremont puffed on her e-cigarette for a moment before picking up her story. “Monique, my girlfriend, was from Phoenix. As we saw law and order collapsing in New York, we made plans to bug out. We got out of the city a few weeks ago, stuck to the back roads, and made it to somewhere around Lewistown, Pennsylvania, when we had car trouble. We lit out on foot, traveling at night as much as possible. We purchased food from some farmers along the way and slept in barns or large culverts when we had to. We narrowly escaped being caught by scavengers a couple of times. We saw one group holding women as slaves to cook for them and to use as they wished. Monique and I traveled as far and as fast as we could to get away from that bunch!”
Clifton and Washington looked at each other for a moment, a silent question passing between them. Finally, Agent Washington turned to Clarissa Fremont and spoke. “Ms. Fremont, given what you have learned from us about the new United States, do you feel more comfortable now about immigrating to the U.S.?”
Fremont nodded then replied. “Yes, I do.”
“We gave you some literature to read before you were interviewed. That literature outlines what we expect of people who are leaving the PSSA and hoping to become U.S. citizens again. Do you have any questions regarding that literature?”
Clarissa shook her head. “No,” she replied.
“Are you willing to renounce your prior affiliation with the PSSA and follow the laws of the United States of America?”
Clarissa smiled and answered, “Yes!”
Several minutes later, Clifton and Washington escorted Clarissa Fremont from the interview room. In the hallway, Monique St. Cloud was waiting…a smile upon her face. Clarissa smiled in return and the two women embraced.
Sheriff Clifton waited until the embrace broke then said simply, “Ladies, welcome home!”
**********
Similar stories were being told and heard at border crossings along the Eastern and Western borders of the new United States of America. Some people were allowed to enter the USA, while others were turned back. In the territories of the PSSA, marauding gangs moved through the countryside drawing ever closer to the borders.
Chapter 10
December 12th, 1543 hours
Castle Rock Bay, Arizona
Colonel Marcus Aurelius Roman walked slowly to the lowered ramp at the rear of his armored command vehicle. He tossed an empty water bottle into a recycling bin in the back of the vehicle, leaned his M-4 CQBR assault rifle against the vehicle, and sat wearily on the ramp. Someone passed him a bottle of cold water and he greedily drained the bottle. As he drank, he recalled the recent battle.
Roman’s Legion had been deployed for the past week and a half to help cover a 50-mile stretch of land along the eastern edge of the Colorado River. For two weeks, people had been swarming across the river from California. So many were trying to cross each day that the existing security patrols were not sufficient to stem the tide.
Even worse, for the last few days, those attempting to cross the Colorado had been armed and were increasingly desperate. They had repeatedly attacked the Border Patrol, Arizona State Guard, and other personnel stationed along the border. The conflicts escalated quickly with each successive attack being more violent and lasting longer.
Today had been the longest and most violent of all. The day had been unseasonably warm. Weapons fire had erupted from concealed locations across the river from Castle Rock Bay. The defenders of the Arizona border remained under cover and prepared for an attack. Suddenly, a group of more than 200 personnel had emerged from concealment and had moved forward under the cover of heavy fire from the California side. Marcus and his troopers issued two distinct warnings to the oncoming attackers, telling them to cease fire and turn back. The armed group continued their rush forward.
The attackers had chosen this location where the river was wide but shallow. Drought conditions had lowered the river level well below normal. Brush covered the island running north and south along the eastern side of the river and afforded the attackers a place to pause, catch their breath, and regroup before continuing their attack against the defenses along the Arizona-side of the river bank.
A brief quiet had descended on the area, then suddenly the attackers who had reached the island opened fire on the defensive positions around Castle Rock Bay. As they did, another group of armed personnel raced from hiding on the California-side and entered the river, making for the island. Suddenly, the distinctive sound of rocket powered grenades being launched could be heard. Marcus and his personnel knew they hadn’t fired any RPGs, so they had to be coming from the attackers.
Plumes of sand and rock sprang into the air as the grenades exploded near the Arizona defenders’ positions. Suddenly, a large group of attackers made it onto Arizona soil and converged on the Arizona defenses. Marcus gave the attackers one final warning to cease fire and return to California. The attackers answered him with more weapons fire.
“Take ‘em out!” Marcus called out over the unit’s communications frequency. “Strykers, rake the island with heavy weapons fire!” As Marcus rose up from his position, one of the attackers suddenly appeared directly in front of him. Marcus swung his M-4 towards the man then saw the muzzle flash from the man’s handgun! Marcus felt the mule-like kick of a slug striking his flak vest just right of center mass.
The vest’s new composite materials did their job of absorbing the impact and preventing the bullet from penetrating the vest and entering Marcus’ body. In stopping the bullet, the vest transferred the slug’s kinetic energy across Marcus’ chest. Momentarily stunned, Marcus staggered backwards and in that moment, he fired a burst from his M-4 at his attacker. The man, lacking any type of protective vest, danced as three 5.56mm slugs struck him in the belly. He pitched forward, hitting the ground at Marcus’ feet.
Sergeant Major Tobias Cowen stepped over to Roman and asked, “Colonel, are you okay, sir?”
Marcus sucked in a slow, deep breath. His chest hurt like hell but he was mobile. “Yeah, Tobias! I’m okay. I’ll be bruised and sore for a few days…but I’m okay. Let’s go!” Cowen climbed out of the protected position then extended a hand down to his commanding officer to assist him. Marcus grinned up at his top soldier and gratefully accepted the helping hand.
Roman and Cowen moved cautiously towards the river’s edge, taking advantage of cover and concealment as they moved. Occasionally, one or the other would fire a short burst at an attacker. Other members of the ASGuard’s 1st Tactical Battalion continued to engage the invaders along the riverbank. Personnel on both sides of the conflict were injured; some killed. ASGuard medics made their way carefully across the battlefield, conducting triage and trying to get the more seriously wounded to safety where their injuries could be treated.
Just thirteen minutes after the attack began, it ended! Only the occasional moans and cries of the injured and the dying broke the silence. ASGuard Strykers equipped as battlefield ambulances rolled forward under the protective gaze of their armed comrades, picked up the wounded,
and raced off toward the ASGuard’s battlefield medical facility a few miles away.
After touring the river bank and confirming that the surviving invaders had retreated back across the river, Roman had returned to his ACV. Sitting on the ramp, he finished the bottle of water only to have another put into his hand. SGM Cowen took the empty bottle from Roman, crushed it, and dropped it into the recycling bin just inside the vehicle.
Staying hydrated was very important. The desert temperatures and dry climate combined with intense combat activities could lead to dehydration and heat related illnesses. If left untreated, it could result in heat stroke…and death!
Cowen looked at the river and shook his head. “Colonel, what the hell was that all about?”
Marcus finished his bottle of water before answering. “Just a skirmish, sergeant major! Each successive attack has had a larger attacking force that has been more heavily armed than the previous one. Someone is giving them weapons and using these people to test our defenses, look for weak spots, test our response times and responses; and see if they can maybe whittle our forces down a little in the process. Some of the attacks may be decoys or feints to get us to reposition our troops along the borders.”
“What do you anticipate next, sir?” Cowen asked.
“A major attack on multiple fronts by more seasoned troops…whatever forces the PSSA may have…probably large units of their National Security Forces,” Marcus answered.
“And after that?” asked Cowen.
Roman looked grim. “Then the IGC troops will move up and engage us. And then the war really begins!”
**********
The People's Palace, 7:45 p.m. (EST)
The District (formerly Washington, D.C.)
The Arizona State Guard Trilogy Page 47