Sweetness in the Dark

by W. B. Martin

  “So you’re the new government. Didn’t care much about the last one. So what does the new one offer? You look like you’re ready to attack us, like you’ve been doing all the way across the state.”

  “Sir, I can assure you that we have only attacked criminal elements when we meet them. If you followed our progress, you know that suppressing the gangs and bringing security for the survivors has been our priority,” Paul said.

  “You can bet we’ve been watching you. We keep our feelers well out in advance so we know who’s coming our way. And you folks have taken down some nasty pieces of trash. We thank you for that,” the spokesman said. “But it’s taken you long enough. My people have been hanging on by a thread.”

  “Well then, let us bring up a convoy of food. No strings attached. We do not come as conquerors. We are liberating the country and offering security. It might be a year late, but better late than never. And trust me when I say, it could have been never.”, Paul emphasized.

  “We’ll accept the food, but we’ve voted that we are not so sure we want to accept your ‘security’. We’ve been doing OK on that account by ourselves, and we figure that we can only trust ourselves right now.”

  “Spoken like a true American. We have no intention of forcing ourselves on you if you don’t wish. In fact, in the areas that we have moved into, there will be free and open elections as to whether or not those areas become part of the new country. If you eventually decide that going it alone is your best option, we will respect that,” Paul said.

  He looked at the UAS Commander and noticed a scowl on his face. Obviously this wasn’t a popular policy in some circles, he thought. But the full Cabinet had decided and submitted it to the Congress to place into law. Paul was confident that all three bodies would approve a voluntary approach to the other states and provinces.

  “Thank you, sir. I will take what you say back to my people and they can decide. And thanks again for the food.”

  As the three men stood up to leave, Amanda joined in the talk. “Excuse me, but I notice that none of your women could make it to this meeting. May I return with you so I could meet with them?”

  “Lady, they do what we say,” the leader said. But the other two men quietly took him aside and whispered something. “Well it seems that my friends here are a little more liberated than I am. They agree that you can join us.”

  What was she doing? Paul thought. He couldn’t guarantee her safety if she was with this militia group by herself. Paul started to panic and the UAS Commander began to protest, but Kevin stopped them both.

  “Perhaps I could join you. I’ve been fighting my personal survival battle myself and I might offer a perspective that would be beneficial,” Kevin offered.

  The leader again spoke, “Sure, why not. You look like you just stepped out of hell. And besides, you won’t eat much from the looks of you.”

  Amanda told Paul not to worry, that she would just be staying with honest Americans. She and Kevin waved as they headed up the road in the back of the militia’s Jeep. That was great negotiating, Paul thought. I gave up my girlfriend and my brother-in-law and what was it I got? I’m not cut out for this stuff.

  * * *

  A convoy of food was delivered the next day, much to the disgust of the UAS Commander. He reminded Paul that now, if he had to subdue the militia, they would be well fed and have hostages. The Commander might be right, Paul thought.

  But two days after the food delivery, the result he hoped for arrived in the form of Amanda and Kevin. They both were glad to report that from Amanda’s discussions with the women and Kevin’s recount of his survival and rescue by UAS troops, the new country and its government could be trusted after all.

  Word had been relayed by a rudimentary phone network through the North Country that the arriving troops were to be trusted. Paul informed the commander that he could continue his advance with only minimum security on his left flank. The militias of the four states would assure communication between the two forces.

  Paul and his party flew back to Richmond to get an update on the entire country. The Northeast was now on its way back to a new normalcy. The Army that moved up the East Coast through Philadelphia and New York City had met the forces that had found Kevin. They had moved across southern Pennsylvania and joined with the East Coast forces near Waterbury, Connecticut.

  The Army that Paul had flown up to help negotiate a settlement had entered New York State near Lake Erie and had followed the New York Thruway across upstate New York. After its agreement with the militia, it moved swiftly across the middle of Vermont and New Hampshire into central Maine. All three forces met near Portsmouth, New Hampshire.

  The President was elated that the Northeast was now under UAS control and that the last of the criminal gangs were being eliminated. But things in California were not going as planned. The C-130 once again lifted off headed to Cheyenne. Decisions had to be made as to how far the new country would go to rid themselves of the invaders.

  Chapter 37

  Sacramento, California

  Paul looked out the small window in the door of the C-130 cargo plane. It was the only window in the back of the plane, and he was the only passenger. Amanda had decided that she had had enough flying for a while and stayed in Cheyenne. Kevin had jumped ship in Cheyenne in order to catch a train to Boise to see his sister. So Paul’s only companion was a cargo bay full of strapped down supplies that was deemed vital to the battle taking place in the Golden State.

  Off his side of the plane, Paul recognized the deep blue waters of Lake Tahoe as they crossed the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Flying beside them were two Air Force F-16s. The plane soon pitched forward as the pilot put it into a steep dive toward the Sacramento airport. Paul held onto the side of the plane as he made his way to his seat and buckled up.

  After landing, the rear ramp started lowering as the engines shut down. Paul waited for the full daylight to hit the interior of the plane standing at the top of the ramp when he noticed his friend General Ed Gale standing on the tarmac.

  “General, good to see you. I didn’t expect a welcoming committee.”

  “You’re not getting one. I just hope you have an answer for me from the new government. Seems this one isn’t any quicker on making a decision than the old one,” General Gale fumed.

  “Human nature doesn’t change, even though the players may. This is a hard decision for a new government to make. I’m sure they will reach the correct one soon,” Paul offered.

  “They’d better. I can’t sit in a holding pattern for much longer. You know the sharp point of the spear only works if you’re willing to stick it into your enemy.”

  “If it was that simple, you’d be sticking away. It’s about the hostages that are going to get in the way of that sharp spear,” Paul said.

  The battle of California had gone well from the start. The four days of preliminary air attacks had accomplish its goal. The Chinese jet fighters that had lifted off the first day had been summarily destroyed by the more experienced American airmen. While the Chinese pilots did manage to shot down a couple of Americans planes, the odds were vastly in the UAS favor.

  Catching no more planes willing to challenge the skies, the Americans had rendered the Chinese air fields unusable. Again the UAS Air Force received some casualties from ground fire as they eliminated the remaining Chinese Red Air Force.

  Once air supremacy was established, the ground attack phase began in earnest. The A-10 Warthogs were turned lose on the enemy formations. Good recon had pinpointed the location of the most loyal Chinese Army units. Only four divisions out of the entire Chinese ground force were determined to be totally reliable by the Chinese Communist government. Like the units in Seattle that had quickly surrendered and asked for asylum, the remaining Chinese troops in California were of questionable loyalty.

  The goal was to decimate the hardcore troops and offer leniency to their less enthusiastic compatriots. It was assumed that the lesser troops would surrender qu
ickly once the main force was defeated.

  But that theory hadn’t worked out so well. The air attacks had done their job on the most loyal and dangerous units, but no sign of weakening was evident from the others. Hence Paul’s personal visit as a representative of the President.

  General Gale had asked permission to finish the job he had started. The dilemma hinged on the fact that the Chinese commander had pulled all his troops onto the San Francisco peninsula.

  In so doing, he had left the Chinese settlers in the San Joaquin Valley to their own fate. Instead, he had grabbed as many American hostages as he could find and took them into captivity. He was now threatening them if the UAS forces continued their attack.

  “I figure they have about twenty thousand Americans locked up somewhere in San Francisco right now. Along with his troops, that amounts to over one hundred thousand mouths he has to feed each day,” Ed said.

  “Well, we can be sure that the hostages aren’t getting much nourishment. And I read the reports while flying out here. The Navy has done its job keeping any resupply from reaching the West Coast, so the Chinese general is playing for time.”

  “I’m not sure what he expects to happen, but his options are slim to none. I guess he’s betting on slim,” Ed said.

  The Chinese position was untenable. Southern California had been rolled up. The few Chinese forces facing the American armored thrust moving out from Arizona had taken to their heels heading north.

  The same response had been experienced by Chinese forces in Northern California. With the best troops torn apart by air attacks, the remaining units folded and headed for home when the Americans came over the horizon.

  Unfortunately, home for these units was San Francisco, not China. Ed had asked permission to go into San Francisco proper to root out the enemy. It meant certain destruction of the city. He would be attacking a fixed fortified line stretching across the peninsula near Palo Alto.

  The general didn’t have amphibious forces to do a landing behind the Chinese lines so a frontal assault was his only alternative. Or wait them out. Eventually the Chinese would run out of food but so too would the hostages.

  The risk to waiting was that his troop’s morale would continue to drop. Waiting was bad for morale, especially when it meant waiting while Americans died of starvation behind enemy lines. The troops wanted to get their hands on the people who had dared to invade their country.

  Picking through starved corpses didn’t have the same satisfaction as meeting your foe on the battlefield and beating him, and Hawaii was yet to be liberated. The same decision on hostages would still be required.

  Two days later the decision was made. General Gale received his green light to liberate California with all haste.

  “Now they’re in a rush about it. As long as I’ve been in the military, I’ve never been surprised by the duplicity of the civilian sector. For once in my life I’d like a command that could function without civilian overseers,” Ed fumed. He turned and headed to his headquarters to set the attack in motion.

  Paul stood in his wake and shook his head. No my friend, you never want to reach that day, he thought.

  The wait had provided time for the Chinese to strengthen their position. Their defense was now entrenched and would require the American troops to blast their way through multiple layers of defense. A student of military history would recognize the scenario from the Russian and German lines during World War II.

  Once one defensive line was breached, another was ready and waiting to stop the attacker. Like the Eastern Front had shown, it would take days of fierce fighting to break through and reach San Francisco.

  And what was the final goal? The liberation of one American city that would end up in ruins, and the rescue of American hostages who would probably be dead by the time they reached them.

  But as Sergeant Wilder of the motorcycle scouts would attest, there was the satisfaction of killing the enemy. Paul had run into the sergeant when he went to check on his son and nephew. Since there was no place left to scout, Sergeant Wilder had been assigned to tracking down the abandoned Chinese settlers.

  Two internment camps had been hastily constructed. One near Fresno and another near Chico. Wilder and his scouts would accompany the settlers to these camps. That was where Paul caught up with Wilder, working alongside Matt and Isaac. The two boys had shifted duty to settler internment while the Army went to the attack.

  “Isaac, how are you doing? I’m glad to see you again,” Paul said.

  “Hey Uncle Paul. Can you believe these guys? The Chinese troops bolt big time and leave these poor farmers to their fate,” Isaac said.

  “Well, Isaac, the other option isn’t so good. Think of your fellow Americans who are trapped in San Francisco with the Chinese. I’m sure they wish they’d been left alone,” Paul said.

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Man, I wouldn’t want to be held by these Chi-Comms. That would bite big time.”

  “Yes, I’m sure it would. Is Matt around?”

  “Oh yeah. He’s over at processing with Sergeant Wilder. Man, there’s one wild dude. We’ve been hangin’ with him. And the stories he tells? Right out of Spooksville,” Isaac answered. “Like Willie Nelson, I think he’s smoked a few too many doobies since ‘Nam.”

  “A lot of men came out of that war with some serious issues. I’m sure Sergeant Wilder is one of them, but I’m sure he’s a good soldier to be around otherwise.”

  “Oh yeah. The best. Matt and I have learned tons from him and his buddies. You wouldn’t believe…” Isaac was cut short.

  “I’m sure the sergeant has some interesting ideas on soldiering, but I need to track down Matt right now,” Paul injected. I’m not sure I want to know anymore, he thought. He left and walked to the Processing Center.

  As he turned the corner of the warehouse that acted as the center’s headquarters, he noticed a commotion by the main gate of the internment area. A large-long haired bearded man in a jean jacket wrestled with a woman, and unlike the Chinese woman behind the wire, this woman was Caucasian.

  “What’s going on here?” the gate guard demanded.

  “I’ve got her. I finally got the bitch,” the bearded man yelled as he grabbed her hair and dragged her out of the compound. “Tried to disguise yourself and hide among the internees, eh? Well, old Sergeant Wilder has been watching for you ever since Seattle. Now you’re mine.”

  Paul walked up and showed his governmental ID to the guard and asked for an explanation. He looked at the woman that Wilder held upright. She attempted to shrink into insignificance like any Chinese peasant woman. She held her head down and stared at the ground, hoping to attract as little attention as possible.

  But Sergeant Wilder would have none of it. He explained how he had found the infamous ‘the chairwoman’. Wanted for serious violent crimes against people from Eugene to Seattle, she had literally cut a swath of death and misery across the Pacific Northwest.

  Rumored to have escaped Seattle with Chairman Z, Sergeant Wilder had made it a personal mission to track the two down to face justice. And now he had succeeded, so it seemed.

  “Sergeant, do you personally know that this is ‘the chairwoman’?” Paul asked.

  “Sure do. I got a picture of her from one of her victims in Seattle who actually survived. Been carrying it with me ever since,” Wilder exclaimed. “Me and the boys have gotten the word out and we’ve been closing in on her and her boss.”

  “Well, let’s take a look. Hand me the picture and lift her face up so I can compare, please,” Paul said. Wilder handed over the picture and grabbed the back of her head to bring her face up.

  “Mom?!” a voice from behind screamed. Paul turned to look at his nephew coming to see what all the excitement was about. Paul looked back at the woman.

  “Mary?” he asked.

  “Aunt Mary?!” came another scream. Paul turned again to see Matt run up.

  The woman’s expression had changed from one of peasant passivity to
a severe scowl, but she remained quiet and did not move.

  “You people know this wretch?” the sergeant asked.

  “It’s my mom, we left her in Eugene when ‘the Pulse’ hit. She wouldn’t leave. We thought she was dead,” Isaac said.

  “Sergeant, we believe she’s my brother’s wife. At least she looks like her,” Paul offered.

  “Dad, it’s Aunt Mary,” Matt said. He turned to the now very agitated woman before them. “Tell them. You’re my Aunt Mary.”

  Everyone froze as they waited for ‘the chairwoman’ to answer. Sergeant Wilder pulled a little harder on his grip on her hair to render a response. Still nothing. She was silent.

  “Well, if she’s been hiding in here with the other Chinese, than Chairman Z can’t be far behind. We need to line up all the detainees and search for him,” Wilder demanded.

  Paul nodded in agreement and the guard ordered his crew to call for a lineup. With a few thousand souls behind the wire, it would take some time to organize. He motioned for the guard tower to call out more troops.

  “Don’t bother,” a voice from the middle of the swarm of Chinese said. The detainees quickly moved aside to reveal a Caucasian man dressed as a Chinese peasant. He was bent over so he wouldn’t rise above the surrounding human mass.

  “Uncle Dwight, my god, its you. You’re Chairman Z?” Isaac asked.

  “What the hell kind of family have you got here?” Sergeant Wilder demanded.

  “I don’t know, Sergeant, but it does look like my brothers wife’s sisters husband, if you follow all that. I only met him a couple of times, but the resemblance is uncanny,” Paul answered.

  The man stepped forward and stood next to ‘the chairwoman’. She continued to remain silent, but her scowl had turned to resignation.

  “Look, I’ll admit to being Chairman Z, but I don’t know who this Dwight character is,” the man said.

  “But Uncle Dwight. It’s me, Isaac. Surely you remember when we stayed at your house in Springfield. I was there the summer before last for a month. Your sons, David and John, we all played down by Island Park each day. You had to come down each evening and pull us off the bridge over the Willamette River. We’d be under the roadway on the girders climbing across. You’d chew us out every day saying we were going to kill ourselves, but the next day we’d be back at it,” Isaac explained.