by Warren Ray
“Two of them are coming this way,” said Meeks.
They heard a loud knock on the front door. Meeks gave Scar a concerned look. After more banging, there came a crash, as the front door was broken in.
Scar and Meeks stood still, listening intently as the soldiers moved around the house, opening and slamming doors. The sounds got louder as they climbed the staircase.
Each step made a thumping sound under the heavy boots of the two soldiers. Reaching the top, they began checking the rooms. Scar and Meeks listened to them, as they talked loudly right beneath them.
Scar motioned to Meeks to move across the crowded attic, filled with abandoned toys, boxes of clothes, and furniture.
Moving away from the light of the window, made the going more difficult. Meeks bumped into a cardboard box with a tall vase on top of it. He quickly grabbed it before it hit the floor. He gave Scar an apologetic expression.
A screeching sound made them both stop for a second before scurrying into a hiding spot as the attic ladder was pulled down.
Light poured through the opening and washed onto the ceiling in a square block. The old ladder squeaked as a soldier climbed up.
Meeks and Scar got down, each reaching into his jacket for their own pistols.
The soldier stood on the ladder and waited a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness so he could search the old attic. He then grabbed his flashlight and made wide sweeping searches of the dark room.
The light made a pass by the box of clothes where Meeks hid. The position he had taken was uncomfortable and his right leg started cramping. Desperately needing to stretch it, he slowly unfolded the leg. As he did, it hit a cardboard box, which made a sliding sound. Meeks froze. The beam of the flashlight whipped back in his direction.
The soldier took another step up on the ladder and put his hands on the attic floor. Just then, the hot, dusty air hit him, triggering a sneezing frenzy.
After his sneezing stopped, he complained. “Hell, there’s no one up here and this dust is killing me.” He descended the ladder not bothering to close it.
The two made as much noise going down the stairs as they had coming up. Seconds later, the front door slammed shut. Both Scar and Meeks let out a big collective sigh.
“Damn,” said Meeks.
“What the hell were you doing over there?” asked Scar.
“My leg was cramping up.”
“Thank God, he started sneezing. One thing’s for sure, we’ll never forget this.”
“Hell no, we won’t. Little too close for comfort.”
The two crept back to the window as the Humvee pulled away, and headed out of town.
“They’re not all leaving,” said Scar.
“No, they’re not,” responded Meeks. “I see the major is staying.”
“Why put yourself in danger,” chuckled Scar.
Meeks sat down. “I hope these guys leave pretty soon. Why are they even staying?”
“That Humvee can travel a lot faster than those transports.”
“I want to get the hell out of here.”
For the next couple of hours, they continued to sit there keeping an eye on the activities below. The soldiers stood around as they waited for the return of the Humvee.
The day had turned into a long one and Scar remembered he had brought some food. He pulled out packets of cheese and crackers and threw one, intentionally high, to Meeks, who nimbly reached up and made a spectacular catch.
Scar grinned knowing he failed yet again to make Meeks miss.
Meeks played football throughout his youth. He had been instrumental in helping his high school win a state title and ended up getting a full scholarship to play for Iowa. As a running back, he broke into the school’s top ten for rushing yards. Unfortunately, he blew out his knee his senior year, which ended his playing days. He did stay in the game by coaching high school football where he was able to coach his own sons. Once the economy collapsed and the war started, money dried up and the small town dropped the football program. After moving his family to his parent’s house in Florida, Meeks came back to Iowa to volunteer with his friends.
“What do ya think about Winters?” Meeks asked ripping open the package.
Scar popped a cracker in his mouth. “I like him. Brave son of a gun, though you’d never know it by looking at him.”
“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. Sneaking into that train station, and killing those bastards…that was a gutsy move,” said Meeks.
“Doesn’t give himself much credit for it though.”
Meeks nodded. “Right…seemed almost embarrassed.”
“Push comes to shove, how many of us would really do something like that.”
“Like to think I would.”
“One thing’s for sure, we all owe him our lives,” said Scar.
Scar understood honor and duty having spent four years in the Corps. He had enlisted right out of high school. Having combat experience, he knew what it took to do what Winters had done. After his discharge, he came home and married his high school sweetheart. He learned to build houses and eventually started his own contracting business. He and his wife raised a son who was currently out West flying as a Marine Aviator.
A subtle vibration began in the attic floor as the Humvee pulled back into town.
Scar and Meeks both hastened to the window as the soldiers including the major poured outside.
“He doesn't look like a happy camper,” grinned Scar.
“Can’t say I would be either.”
“Maybe now they’ll leave.”
“Please,” begged Meeks.
Scar and Meeks continued to keep an eye on the soldiers from the attic window. The major yelled out to his men. Some of the men went inside while others moved the LMTV’s further up the street.
A minute later, men carried out wooden stakes. The soldiers started wrapping strips of cloth around them. Scar had a bad feeling when one of the soldiers took out his cigarette lighter.
Chapter 9
Blue Earth Minnesota
Elliott was familiar with another volunteer station in Minnesota which was just across the Iowa border. The uneventful drive ended as they stopped five miles away from their destination. They pulled into an unused cornfield, which had gone to seed and was filling up with weeds. It would soon be unrecognizable as a place where crops once grew.
They came to Minnesota to see if that operation was like the one in Iowa. They had to either witness them shoot the volunteers or see another burial pit. Unfortunately, they only knew where the Patriot Center was. What they needed to know, was the drop-off location.
Everyone exited their vehicles and gathered around the lead truck occupied by Winters and Elliott.
Nate spoke up first.
“I’ll volunteer Captain,” said Nate.
“Volunteer for what?” asked Winters.
“To go in and find out where the drop-off is.”
“How are you going to do that?”
“I’ll walk right on in there and pretend like I’m volunteering.”
“Just like that?”
“Yeah man, I mean how else are we going to find out?”
“Well, we can follow the trucks.”
“Listen, I can’t wait around for them to kill again,” sneered Nate.
“We don’t know if that’s happening.”
“Exactly, which is why we should go in and get a heads up on where the location is. It’ll be simple. I’ll take Rogers with me,” he said pointing to his friend. “He’s pretty quick on his feet, aren’t you buddy.”
Rogers shrugged.
Winters didn’t particularly like how Nate had pushed himself into this assignment but gave in. “If that’s what you want to do.”
“Don’t worry man, we’ll be alright.”
Nate and Rogers hopped into a pickup.
“We’ll find a place where we can keep an eye on what’s going on, so look for us as soon as you find out where the drop-off is,�
� said Winters as the pickup pulled out of the cornfield.
Winters stewed over Nate's action. He wasn’t in charge. What was the point of making him Captain if they weren’t going to listen to him? If this kept up, he’d gladly hand over the reins over to someone else, maybe even leave and travel south to search for his wayward daughter, Cara. She had taken off with her boyfriend before the invasion and he hadn't heard from her since. She didn't know her mother was dead.
His thoughts turned to Scar and Meeks. Despite his initial assessment of Scar, he actually liked him. He had a big personality and was quite entertaining. Winters thought Scar and Meeks made a great team and planned to use Scar’s military experience regularly. That was why he had asked them to stay behind.
Winters prayed nothing would happen to them and they would be able to find their way back to the group. They had a pre-planned meeting spot, but he wasn’t sure how long they should wait.
Now Nate and Rogers had gone to pretend to be volunteers. Regardless of Nate’s hasty decision, Winters still felt responsible. He never had to make decisions like this before. Balance sheets and payroll were his biggest responsibilities for most of his life. His wife even made the decisions on what they did on the weekends. His new duties began to grow as weighty as an anchor around his neck.
Elliott must have sensed Winters' tension. “Don’t worry about him, Captain. I told ya he’s a bit strong-willed, but he’s a good ole boy, with a big heart. He just doesn’t always think things through is all.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
Elliott slowed down as they approached the town where the Patriot Center was located. “Don’t look like anyone lives around here,” said Elliott
“Just thinking the same thing, take your first left,” said Winters.
Elliott turned left and then right. They drove a couple of blocks and parked in front of a wide two-story house, which looked to be about a hundred years old. The other vehicles followed and parked behind them. Winters told the others to stay put. He and Elliott ran through the back yard staying close to the house, got comfortable and waited.
“This might take a while, hope you got some patience in ya,” whispered Elliott.
Winters gave Elliott a half smile. “Yeah, I do, we bookkeepers are known for our patience.”
Elliott chuckled. “Still can't believe you're a bookkeeper.”
Winters understood the confusion. Most bookkeepers were a bit on the nerdy side. He just happened to be good with numbers and knew where things should go.
They kept themselves hidden behind a row of bushes. Sitting on the ground, the only noises they heard came from birds chirping high up in the trees, and squirrels running around the branches. They both waited in silence, which suited Winters. He had too much on his mind to be a good conversationalist. He wondered how Scar and Meeks were doing and if they had seen anyone come to check on the Center.
Soon a couple more pickups arrived, each carried two or three men in the back. After a while, many of the volunteers were hanging around outside.
“Hey, Nate’s coming out,” said Elliott.
“Sit up a bit, try and get his attention.”
Elliott got up and waved his arms but to no avail.
“He must think we’re further down,” said Elliott.
Winters stood up and started to walk toward the Patriot Center.
“Captain, whatcha doing?” asked Elliott in a hushed voice.
“Stay here.” He walked through the side lawn to the street. Staying on his side of the road, Winters waved to get Nate’s attention. After getting a nod, he then took a left at the next house and walked behind it. Nate crossed the street and found Winters waiting for him.
“Captain.”
“Hey, how did it go? Did you find the location?”
“Everything’s real cool. One of the drivers told me where the place is. Get on the interstate go west, take exit 50 go north on 71 and then a right on 60. It's an old implement dealership. You'll run right into it.”
“Excellent. We should get going. Where’s Rogers?”
“He’s still there.”
“Why? Is something wrong?”
“We decided to go with them. This way, if they’re killing them there too, we can get the drop on them.”
Winters tilted his head slightly. “I don’t think that's a good idea. What if we can’t get to you?”
“They won’t be expecting anyone to shoot back.”
“They’ll have automatic weapons. You guys only have pistols. It’s not as easy as you might think when you have a gun pointed at you.”
“Maybe for you, it wasn’t, but it won’t bother me.”
Nate’s response stung, but Winters suppressed his anger.
“I don’t mean to be insulting, but the difference is, we’ll be ready for them.”
“Okay, well, you’ve got your mind made-up anyway.”
Winters watched Nate shuffle across the street to join the others. He shook his head and rejoined Elliott.
“Where’s Nate and Rogers?”
“They’ve decided to stay and go with them.”
Elliott rolled his eyes. “I told ya, that boy’s a little head-strong. He’ll be okay.”
“More like bull-headed,” smirked Winters
The two of them hustled back to the others and tore out of town. Winters tapped his fingers on the cloth console, which was between Elliott and himself. He remained quiet for most of the ride deep in thought on how Nate and Rogers were doing.
Elliott glanced over at him. “They’ll be okay, Cole.”
Winters found some comfort in being called by his name, first time he’s heard it since they nominated him, Captain. “I’m not so sure about that.”
“Being Captain, I know puts some extra burden of worry on ya, but it’ll be fine. They’ll be fine,” said Elliott not expecting a response.
With Nate and Rogers staying, they could afford no errors. If they failed, someone would die.
Chapter 10
Victor Iowa
Major Green walked into the building, sat down in Decker’s chair, and mulled over what he had learned. He prepared himself for Nunn to blame him for what happened at the train station. He couldn’t be responsible if, in all likelihood, they got drunk and burned the place down. Green questioned why the government subcontracted this program to a bunch of incompetent drunks. He also wondered why they even bothered with the recruitment of a bunch of out of shape old men. No matter, Green knew better than to question the government on why they did anything, especially in the current political climate. He would follow orders like a good soldier even if they came from a criminal like Colonel Nunn.
He reached for Decker’s phone, dialed the number and waited for the connection, which took forever, because of the inadequate telephone system.
“Colonel Nunn’s office.”
“Owens, it’s Major Green, is he in?”
“Hold on Major, I’ll transfer you.”
Green sat on hold for quite a while. He thought the colonel purposely took his time, his little way of being a jackass. Another minute later, the colonel got on the phone.
“Major,” said Nunn.
“Colonel, I’m here at Bravo Patriot.”
“And?”
“Something’s happened here, Colonel. The train station is burned to the ground and all the men are dead there.”
“Where’s Decker?”
“I couldn’t say. There’s no one here. The transports are still here but everyone is gone.”
“How did the station burn down?” asked Nunn.
“My guess is they got drunk and caught the place on fire. I got eight charred bodies in there. They might have died in their sleep. Decker might have been up there himself or he didn’t want to stick around and have to explain what happened.”
Nunn paused for a few moments. “Major, I want you to torch the houses on the main street.”
“Sir?” Green said, taken aback by the order.
<
br /> “You heard me. Decker lives there. He and his men have screwed up our operations. A strong message needs to be sent.”
“I’ll get right on it,” said Green shaking his head in disbelief.
“Bring back our transports,” ordered Nunn, hanging up the phone.
“Yes…” began Green as the phone clicked off.
Chapter 11
Rock Island Illinois
Colonel Nunn sat at his desk giving some thought to what happened. He figured someone must have found out about their operation. “This can’t be an accident like this idiot Green thinks. Of course, Green has no idea what is actually happening at the Patriot Centers so why would he suspect anything was wrong. Probably someone from town found out and took revenge. That may, or may not, explain why they burned the train station and not the Patriot Center, which was located in their town,” he thought.
In any case, Nunn had decided to send a message to whoever did this. Mess with us and this is what happens.
He opened a drawer and pulled out a bottle of single-malt Scotch, one of the few luxuries still available to him. This was supposed to be a very low-risk operation and kept very quiet. With over thirty years in the Army, he should have known better. Word will get out now and plans will have to be changed. Nunn poured himself a drink while he mulled over the situation. He inhaled the aroma of the Scotch for a moment before letting the liquid wet his lips. He had been drinking single-malt since he could remember, and the smoky liquor went down as smooth as ever.
Operation Wildflower, the operation of eliminating older volunteers, was now at risk of being discovered. If this happened they would be out of business. His bosses would assume him incapable and have little further use for him. The only thing he’d miss was the vast sum of money they were paying him. He hadn't particularly liked the killing of American citizens, but he knew that most of these volunteers would have been involved in more protests and more trouble for the new government.
Older Americans hadn't been as thoroughly indoctrinated as the younger ones. Consequently, they protested about every little thing. It was the last thing the fragile new government needed. The protests were having their desired effect and were starting to put a strain on the new regime. It started off on shaky ground to begin with and immediately weakened its position by trying to eliminate the private ownership of guns.