Chad stared at her, incredulous. “You can’t be serious.” He nodded toward the distant battle raging over Salmon Falls. The last remaining Apache was ducking and weaving yet still dropping missiles and bullets, but it was clearly a losing proposition. “You think the Russians, the Germans, or even the Koreans are actually going to pay you? They’ll take me and put a bullet in your head. You—think of your kids! You love them, right? Why would you risk never seeing them again for money?”
She sniffed and roughly turned Chad around so he could see the built-in footrests to reach the lower part of the cockpit. “For $500 million, I’ll take my chances. Get in there.”
“Everyone has their price, I guess,” he muttered.
“Overwatch! Come in! Damn it—” Chad could hear screaming and the Captain was panting now. “Overwatch, I don’t know what the hell is going on, but you’ve got to start shooting! Get these guys off our backs! They’re trying to flank us—”
“Oh, like you wouldn’t do the same thing in my situation? Shut up and climb the ladder.” She reached into the upper cockpit and started flipping switches. Deep in the bowels of the helicopter, the engine started to whine as it came to life.
Chad saw his chance as he climbed into the cockpit and pretended to lose his grip. He crushed his chest against the hull of the helicopter and hoped it was enough to activate the radio in his chest pocket. He grunted in pain and then said, “I hope it was worth it for you to hide this helicopter on the mountain. I can’t believe you think you’re going to get paid by the Russians for kidnapping me. How can you be so heartless to leave Tuck to bleed to death back there?”
“Mr. Huntley! Can you hear me? Can you respond?”
“Answer me this then,” he said, panting with effort to keep the radio activated and look the pilot in the face. “Where are you taking me?”
“East, to meet the middle-man. The Russians will probably take you back to one of their treaty-cities. Boston, or one of the southern cities. I don’t know and I don’t care. I get my money before that happens.”
She pulled him back upright and shoved him down into the seat. He felt the radio switch pop back out in his shirt pocket and hoped the transmission had gotten through. He sat down in the front seat heavily and remained still while the pilot roughly strapped him in.
“Striker 2…Overwatch,” Tuck’s voice was weak. At least he was still alive. Chad closed his eyes in thanks as the Pilot got into her seat. He could hear buckles clicking as the canopy lowered over his head and sealed shut.
“Blond pilot…double-crossing…bitch shot me…”
“Roger that, Overwatch. What’s your location?”
Chad could see the black rotors begin to move, slowly at first, then faster and faster as the Apache spooled-up to speed. The control panels in front of him flickered on and a myriad of buttons and switches glowed and blinked.
“Where’s your co-pilot?” he asked nonchalantly.
“Gunner,” said the pilot. “Not a co-pilot. And he didn’t make it. Another person that died because of you.”
“Position Bravo-2. By the leaning pine,” whispered Tuck. Chad could barely hear him. “Hurry…”
“Garza is Oscar-Mike! You stay with me, Ranger!”
“Bitch shot me…”
“Tuck!”
“Unh…” static crackled and the signal faded.
Chad turned his head instinctively trying to hear the transmissions better. He knew he’d made a mistake when he heard the pilot gasp behind him.
“You sneaky bastard! You had a radio the whole time!” He heard the pilot muttering to herself as she unbuckled her harness. The rotors were spinning so fast now, Chad noticed, it was impossible to see each one individually. They were just a blur on the other side of the canopy glass.
He winced as the earbud was ripped from his ear. A hand reached into his chest pockets and groped around. After a moment, the radio came free. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the reflection of the pilot pull out the pistol again. He thought she was going to shoot him for a second, but she turned it sideways and swung. Hard.
Chad felt searing pain the in the back of his head. It traveled to his eyes like twin lightning bolts.
“They said you had to be alive, but they never said you had to be awake,” he heard the pilot say. She laughed.
Everything went white, then black as he felt his head fall to the side and strike the cockpit canopy. He felt the weird sensation that he was simultaneously falling asleep and slowly falling down a dark hole in the ground and—
CHAPTER 28
Denver, Colorado.
Denver International Airport.
Emergency National Reserve Operations Center.
COOPER STRETCHED HIS BACK and felt the wonderful sensation of a good night’s sleep ripple through his abused body. The sounds of a military base intruded into his mind and pulled him out of the warm fog of drowsiness. Helicopters, men, machines, tanks…a stirred up hornet’s nest of activity that he could hear through the concrete walls.
Cooper sat up suddenly. Where the hell am I?
“Have a nice nap, son?” asked a raspy voice.
Cooper turned his sore neck and focused on an old man in perfectly starched digital camo, leaning against a desk with his wiry arms across his chest. The Commandant of the Marine Corps grinned. “Who’s Brenda?”
Cooper sighed and ran a hand through his damp hair in an effort to conceal his embarrassment. He wondered what the Commandant had heard. He swung his legs free of the cot and stood up, going easy on his injured knee. The knee brace squeaked as he stood, in time with the creaking in his back.
Maybe the Navy’s right. Maybe I am getting too old for this shit.
“Mouse! Get it,” mumbled Charlie from his cot next to Cooper. He jerked awake with the same look of confusion on his face that Cooper figured must have been on his own. Charlie rolled off the cot and sprang to his feet. “Where’s our gear?”
The Commandant nodded to the dark corner at the back of the room. “Back there. Don’t worry, nothing’s missing. We just figured you boys deserved some sack time. You pretty much passed out on the way here.” He checked his watch. “Been sleeping for sixteen hours now.”
“Too long,” said Cooper, rubbing his back. He cleared his throat. He glanced around the dimly-lit briefing room. He kicked Mike’s cot and the short SEAL stirred and coughed. The others began to rise.
“Where are we, sir?” he asked.
“This is the new…well, they’re calling it the Pentagon, but there’s only one Pentagon and everyone knows it. This place looks more like an outhouse to me.” He shrugged. “That’s for the desk-jockeys to sort out. We’re in Denver, setting up shop in the new Capitol, or close enough. Technically we’re at the damn airport, but nobody seems to care. I’m more interested in killing Koreans. How about you?”
“New Capitol?” asked Charlie.
“Denver?” asked Jax, sitting up in his cot. He examined the fresh bandages on his arms in amazement.
“Can’t you guys keep it down?” grumbled Mike, pillow over his head. He yelped when Sparky slapped him in the back of the head.
“Yes, Denver,” said the Commandant loudly. “The President—that would be Orren Harris now,” he said with a grin, “has declared Denver to be the new National Capitol. This place has been prepped for the move from D.C. since World War II, I guess.” He shrugged. “Again, above my pay grade. I’m a Marine, not a politician.”
“Long way from Chula Vista, man,” muttered Charlie.
“Sir,” said Cooper. “Any word on Coronado? My men have family—“
“Son,” said the Commandant in a softer tone. “I’m afraid no one has had contact with the base there for quite some time. That whole region of California was overrun in the first wave.”
“Overrun?” gasped Charlie.
“First wave?” asked Mike.
The commandant nodded. “Damn Gooks were hell-bent to reach L.A. and went through Coronado and San D
iego like shit through a goose. That’s the bad news.”
“Oh Jesus…Allie, Junior—“ said Charlie, his voice cracking.
Cooper’s parents had been killed by the Blue Flu—he’d only ever had a few girlfriends in the past, so he couldn’t hope to understand the fear and worry that Charlie had been carrying around inside, but he could see it finally crack through to the surface. Charlie, his cool, calm, never-flustered, Terminator-like XO raised a trembling hand to his face.
Cooper put a hand on his shoulder. He looked at the Commandant. “Sir—“
“Son, my own boy and his family lived in Long Beach. I understand what you’re feeling. And I’m sorry, I truly am. There’s a shit-pot full of us who’re in the same boat.” He stood up straighter. “There is good news, though.”
Charlie’s shoulders shuddered and he sucked in a deep breath and came to parade rest, hands behind his back. The Terminator was back. Cooper turned to Commandant.
“Because the NKors were moving so fast—we think their objective was to cause some chaos and drive the civilian population before them, adding to the confusion which would allow them to reach Los Angeles unopposed. It worked. We got sporadic reports of heavy casualties along the coast, and then everything went dark and within hours L.A. was swarming with Koreans. You boys ran into their advance scouts and got out just before the first wave rolled into town.”
“Good Lord,” muttered Jax.
“There’s a second wave off-shore. Or, there was a few days ago. Last I heard, the Navy was supposed to sink that fleet before they made landfall but…” he shrugged. “Comms being what they are, we haven’t had much luck finding out what the hell is going on beyond the Valley, let alone in the Pacific.”
Cooper looked at his XO, his brother, his right-hand-man and saw the pain in his eyes. “What’s the sit-rep, sir? Sooner we finish up, the faster I get my men back to their families.”
The Commandant nodded. “Here’s the straight dope SEALs, from God’s mouth to your ears: the call has gone out for the boys and girls overseas to come home, to report here. Our good friend President Barron,” he chuckled, “has declared anyone not swearing loyalty to him a traitor—that’s punishable by death, by the way,” the old man snickered, then turned serious again.
“The scary thing is, he’s getting a lot more support from the rank and file than we’d anticipated. Mostly just the troublemakers and slackjaws to begin with, but some of the officer corps are staying with him. This old leatherneck sees it as a simple payback for recently acquired promotions and big salary increases. To think they hold their honor so cheap.” He spat in disgust. “Bastards.”
“Shameful,” said Charlie.
“Ain’t that the truth,” the Commandant growled. “The latest estimate has roughly 60% of the armed forces on our side. I think it’s actually higher than that—we can’t reach a lot of the people and our fleets are completely off the grid. Damn near every Marine, I’m proud to say, is with us.”
“Great, surrounded by a bunch of Jarheads. That makes me feel so much better,” muttered Cooper.
“You should feel better—my boys pulled your asses out of L.A. just in time.”
“We were doing just fine, thanks,” said Cooper.
“Mmmmhmmmm. Listen up, here’s the rest: Barron has announced the deputation of all Federal Agency security forces. He’s using some sneaky-ass, limp-wristed lawyer tactic and dredging up old Executive Orders from when Obama was in office—”
“President Obama? That was…When was he in office? Right around the time I was born. Barron’s using 30-year old orders…?”
“Yep. Some little-known provision that allows the President to take control of Agency security forces in times of crisis.” The Commandant turned and pulled some papers off the desk. He tossed a stack to Cooper.
Cooper glanced at the top page of the briefing notes:
Directive No. 3025.18
Defense Support of Civil Authorities
Dec. 29, 2010
“They’ve been stockpiling weapons and ammo for decades, and now it’ll be turned against anyone that doesn’t get into lockstep with his agenda. Barron just created his own private army. Add to that the traitors in the military—boys, we’re outnumbered and outgunned.”
“You’re talking another Civil War!” said Charlie.
The Commandant folded his arms and grunted. “It appears that may be what Barron wants. He’s already buying most of his people—through jobs, food, access to what medical supplies there are, that sort of thing. If he could get President Harris to attack, it’ll drive a good chunk of the population into Barron’s arms.” The Commandant shook his head.
“You don’t think these agency security forces are anything to worry about, though, do you, sir?” asked Charlie. “I mean, come on—even raw recruits should be able to handle them easily. What kind of training could they possibly have that could be compared to warfighters? If this is real—and I do mean if—I think we’re looking at a bunch of guys playing soldier, not a real army.”
“Man, I remember my Dad bitching about all the alphabet soup Agencies purchasing and stockpiling huge amounts of ammo and guns when I was growing up. He’d tell me how it could be excused if it were for Homeland Security, or the Coast Guard or something. But it was always for agencies that never needed armor piercing rounds and 50-cal machine guns: the EPA, the IRS, DOE, FDA, NOAA, hell even the damn Post Office!”
“That’s crazy…” muttered Charlie. “I don’t understand why they’d even try.”
Cooper sighed. “Dad always said he believed the liberals in government were preparing to turn the country into a dictatorship…Mom used to laugh at him and say if it was really all that big a deal, the media would be going crazy.”
“I sure don’t remember them covering all this with any kind of journalistic integrity,” said the Commandant with a sour look on his face.
Cooper nodded. “I can still see my old man rolling his eyes and explaining that the media would never cross their Liberal masters—funny how it never seemed to be the Conservatives doing shit like this.” Cooper shook the report in his hand. “I don’t know, man, I was just a kid, but it made a big impression on me. I remember thinking the mailman would drive up in a tank one day…”
“Too bad we didn’t have more people like your Dad paying attention,” muttered the Commandant. “I remember I was fresh out of the Academy when that all went down… There was a lot of grumbling in the ranks about it, but I was just starting my career and didn’t believe I needed to worry about politics.” He shook his head sadly. “Too many of us figured it wasn’t anything to worry about—we’d deal with it later. Back then, we had bigger things to tackle, like Afghanistan and Iraq and all the budget cuts and force reductions. Shit, then the Blue Flu hit and all hell broke loose with Iran.”
Cooper nodded and skimmed the first section of the notes, outlining what the directive entails. He looked up. “If Barron gets people to actually go along with this…”
“Oh, he is,” said the Commandant. “Plenty of people are joining his side every day.”
“Why the hell would they do that?” asked Charlie, leaning over to read the report in Cooper’s hands.
“Seems all those shiploads of food the Europeans have delivered to the East Coast are starting to win hearts and minds…”
“Easiest way to win a man’s heart is through his stomach,” said Jax.
Cooper shook his head as he read. He couldn’t believe what was on the next page of the report. He read out-loud the first paragraph someone had typed up, summarizing the directive:
“In emergency situations, to be determined by the President, Federal military commanders shall have the authority—including extraordinary emergency circumstances where prior authorization by the President is impossible and duly constituted local authorities are unable or unwilling to control the situation—to engage temporarily in activities that are necessary to quell large-scale, unexpected civil disturbances…” C
ooper looked up. “That sounds like one big loophole to me.”
“This could be real bad,” muttered Jax.
Cooper looked up from the report. “Where the hell was the ACLU on this? I’m no lawyer, but damn, this sure sounds like it violates something.”
“Yeah, but the question is: who’s is going to actually go along with this?” asked Jax, taking a copy of the report. “Surely people are going to see what this is…or was…? I mean, come on—”
“Oh, he’s got people waiting in line to sign-up and be counted as loyal. Lots of ‘em are desperate enough for food they already ‘volunteered’. We have the training and discipline and a lot of big toys. They have the rabble. A hungry, motivated, and scared rabble. But thanks to shit like this,” the Commandant slapped the report in Cooper’s hands, “they’ve got a lot more guns and bullets than us, now.”
“And the average Joe gets caught in the middle,” said Cooper.
Jax shook his head. “What a fucking mess.”
“According to Barron’s latest radio address, use of this doctrine is necessary to keep the country together while he deals with the Koreans and the flu. All it’s going to do is give his supporters a reason to shoot first, take their neighbor’s food, and ask questions later,” said the Commandant.
“When do we get back in the fight?” asked Charlie, folding his arms across his chest.
“Yeah, I got me some unfinished business with the Koreans,” rumbled Jax.
“Well, don’t get your knickers in a twist, but the Chinese have offered a truce, of sorts—on behalf of what’s left of the command structure of North Korea.” He chuckled. “One thing old Barron did right was to hit Pyongyang. He sent in two more bombing raids—the Air Force turned that shit-hole into a pile of rubble. So, now we get the word about no aggression from either side while the diplomats work things out. One week. Washington and Denver want everyone to toe the line.”
Apache Dawn: Book I of the Wildfire Saga Page 41