by John Grit
A rifle shot cracked, and Lawson, who hadn’t kept low while moving to cover, was shot through the back of the head.
His two friends turned white and hugged the earth as if they were afraid they would fall off into space.
“Oh shit!” one of them screamed. “It’s your fault they’re both dead. Assholes!”
“He should’ve belly crawled,” Mel said, sounding irritated. “He committed suicide by stupidity. Now shut up before I shoot you myself.”
Bark flew from the pine tree Mel hid behind. He pulled his left hand in to prevent it from being shot off. This meant he couldn’t keep his rifle trained on the two men, but it would take only a tenth of a second to bring it up if need be. He looked back at Nate, who was checking to see if Mel had been hit. The expression on Nate’s face made him laugh.
“Somebody in that house can shoot,” Mel said.
Nate nodded and grabbed the radio when it blared out Chesty’s voice, asking if anyone had been hit.
“The first shot killed another one of the deadly high speed operators Mel and I have been blessed with,” Nate answered. “No one else was hit.” He added, “Now can we get the hell out of here before more people are killed?”
“Yeah,” Chesty answered. “Everyone back off and keep behind cover. We’ll meet at the vehicles.”
Nate dropped to the ground and crawled to a tree 20 yards away. He took position behind the tree and signaled for Mel to retreat while he kept watch on both the men nearby and the house.
The man named Reggie asked, “What about our guns?”
Nate had no time for him. “To hell with your guns.”
After crawling farther back in the woods, Mel sat against a thick tree, making sure those in the house couldn’t get a shot at him. “Maybe those people will send them to you by UPS in a week or two.”
“Kiss my ass,” the nearest man spat.
“You have me mistaken for a different type of man.” Mel smiled. “I don’t swing that way.”
Nate said, “Moving,” and dropped to his belly. He crawled to a tree 30 yards farther back in the woods. “Send those two,” he told Mel.
“Crawl to Nate.” Mel motioned with his rifle. “Remember what happened to your buddies. Drag your peckers in the dirt the whole way and keep your head down.”
As soon as the contractors and Mel had joined Nate, they took off on a run, knowing they were far enough into the woods they couldn’t be seen from the house.
When everyone was standing by the pickups, Chesty and Tyrone took a headcount. Everyone was accounted for – minus the dead contractors.
Atticus sauntered up to Nate and Mel while others climbed into the pickups. “Who started shooting?” He kept his shotgun pointed skyward and his finger straight but near the trigger.
Mel stabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “He’s back there dead, along with his friend.”
Atticus raised an eyebrow. “I was going to kick his ass, but now I feel sorry for him.”
“Don’t,” Nate said. “He shot at those boys without cause.”
“And he put us all at risk,” Mel added. “It was just luck that none of my friends were shot.” He gave the two ex-contractors sitting in the back of a pickup a cold stare. “If they had, I might be pissed right now and ready to kick ass.”
Reggie jumped out of the pickup and rushed at Mel. “Bring it on, you little prick!”
Chesty shouted across the distance. “We don’t have time for that bullshit. Anyone not in a truck in 20 seconds will be left behind. We’re out of here.”
Everyone scrambled to pile into pickups. Mel purposely jumped in the one the two supposed ‘ex-Green Berets’ were in. Sitting across from them, he winked. “Later.”
Reggie said, “Two of my friends are dead and you think it’s funny.”
The truck took off on the rough Jeep trail and jostled the men riding in the back.
“No, I don’t,” Mel contradicted. “I do think they both caused their own deaths and put a lot of other people in jeopardy.” He gave them a hard stare. “And that pisses me off.”
Nate drove the rear pickup. He glanced at Tyrone. “It could’ve been worse.”
Tyrone looked through the windshield at the pickup in front. Mel and his two new enemies seemed to be under an uneasy truce. “Yeah, but it’s still embarrassing to even be a part of such a snafu.” He tried to shake unpleasant thoughts from his head. “Damn!”
Nate slowed for a shallow creek that crossed the trail. “What we witnessed today shows how dangerous, tricky, and downright dirty the job ahead is. Ferreting out terrorists that hide among the population has always been a dangerous, dirty job.”
Chapter 33
All involved in leading the raids had gathered in what was a courtroom. The room was full of soldiers and civilians alike. Donovan stood in front of the assembly next to the empty witness stand, scanning written reports as the leaders took their turn and gave a brief account of their mission.
When it was her turn, Deni gave a quick synopsis of how her raid went perfectly, showing some amount of pride and heaping praise on the soldiers under her. She later regretted her glowing words on how well the mission had gone and the great results, when Chesty explained how he had lost two civilians and was forced to abort the mission to avoid further bloodshed before it could even be determined if the people at the homestead were terrorists or not.
Sergeant Derek McCain, who had led a raid of his own that had gone fairly well, got a verbal punch in. “If you want professional level results, you need to send professionals.”
Donovan gave him a look that would wilt a sturdy oak tree. “Sounds like you had bad luck, Chesty.”
Tyrone’s baritone voice reverberated in the office. “We had a few trigger-happy fools with us. It happens when you use a team that’s made up of the general population. It’s not easy to vet a posse that you gather up only hours before going on the mission.” He glanced at Chesty. “It was embarrassing to be a part of that total snafu.”
Chesty examined the top of his boots for a second. His eyes met Donovan’s. “Those four men who claimed to be military contractors before the plague helped us out before and proved themselves to at least be sane. I don’t know what happened this time.”
Tyrone said, “This time there was a real chance of a gunfight and they couldn’t take the pressure, so they started shooting, that’s what happened.”
“Maybe,” Chesty said in a voice that made it clear he was through discussing it.
The meeting went on for another hour until the last team leader gave his oral report.
“Okay,” Donovan said. “I think we have done some good as far as disrupting the plans of the terrorists in this area, such as they were. In addition, we have gathered more intel and were able to peer deeper into their twisted minds, shedding a little more light on their motivations. All in all, it was a good day’s work.”
He rubbed the back of his neck before continuing. “I’ve had a conversation with Dr. Brant, and she tried to explain to me why these people have glommed onto this weird ideology. From what I understand of her explanation, people who have been severely traumatized need to have someone or something to blame for their pain. Even before the plague, corporations and the wealthy had become almost the new Jew to blame everything on. The government was a convenient target, but many looked to the government to take care of them, so they were less likely to blame government for everything. Those that saw the government as their keeper and provider tended to blame the wealthy and corporations for every societal problem, while criticizing politicians for being bought out by those corporations, tending to steer clear of demanding a reduction in governmental power, size, and expense. In fact they usually wanted more government in the form of more social spending. Well, the plague ended any chance of the government expanding to take care of everyone and the corporations have collapsed. I guess she was saying the reason their half-baked dogma has attracted so many devotees is because there are now millions of trau
matized people with a deep need to blame someone for the tragedy they have witnessed and lived through.”
Chesty raised his hand. “Uh, since I’m not in the Army, I guess it’s okay to ask a question.”
Donovan nodded. “Go ahead.”
“I don’t get why they don’t want the farm in operation, so the town can feed itself. For some reason they don’t even want people to improve their lives at all. Do they want what’s left of the human population to die out like a doomsday cult?”
“No. I’m certain that’s not it. They fear recovery, rebuilding.” Donovan took a leaflet off a table and quickly scanned it to refresh his memory. “They are afraid society will rebuild in its old image with the same government and economic system and then the cycle will repeat, culminating in another mass die-off they blame on Capitalism and the wealth it creates.” He looked around the room. “And they are willing to kill to stop it.”
“Obviously,” Chesty said. “They remind me of people who wanted to drag down the wealthy to remove inequality, instead of lifting up the poor through opportunity in the free market. They seem to want to keep everyone at starvation level.”
Donovan appeared to be pressed to move on to a topic he could do something about. People had the right to think whatever they wanted, no matter how wrong they might be. He needed to understand the anarchists’ motivations only because he had to stop their terrorism, and he had no interest in getting into a philosophical debate over how wrong their ideology was. It was his job to protect the American people. Politics and philosophy wasn’t part of his job. Sure, a lot had changed since the collapse caused by the plague, but his core job of protecting the American people was still there. Just because Posse Comitatus had been repealed and he wasn’t protecting the people so much from a foreign threat but more from each other didn’t mean he had any business telling people what to think or believe in. If they were not violent, he couldn’t care less. Besides, there was a more dangerous threat looming, and he wasn’t sure how to respond to it. Decisions had to be made soon, and those decisions would determine the future of the soldiers who served under him and hundreds of civilians he had grown to respect.
Time for Donovan to call a halt to the meeting. “Dr. Brant said this kind of thing was bound to happen. There are probably many different political groups and cults doing their own thing out there in this post-plague world. We just happen to be dealing with the most violent group at the moment.” He looked around the room. “I think we’ve covered everything as best we can for now. Sergeant Heath, I need you to stay. The rest of you are dismissed.”
Deni’s face revealed concern Nate had not been at the meeting. She stood silently until the two were alone. “Sir, do you have any idea where Nate is? I expected him to be here with everyone else who had been involved with the raids.”
“Come on,” Donovan said. “He and Mel are waiting for us.”
Curious, she kept her questions to herself and followed him out the door into the parking lot where they got in a waiting HUMVEE.
Donovan’s driver headed for the street, needing no orders from the Captain. Another HUMVEE full of soldiers followed to provide security.
Donovan’s demeanor became less professional and more like someone talking to a friend. “I have good news for you. Your discharge from the Army has come through.”
Deni’s face broke into a wide smile. “Wow!” She rubbed her forehead with her hand, appearing to be totally surprised. “Great! Nate will be ecstatic! We didn’t want to get married until –”
Donovan’s eyes lit up. “I know. You wanted out of the Army first.”
Still showing complete surprise, she asked, “Why now? Did you do something to hasten their decision?”
“Well, please don’t take offense, but Washington has a policy of letting women out of the military if they plan to have children. It’s their effort to rebuild the population.” He waited until they got through a checkpoint at an intersection. The driver slowed just enough to allow the soldiers to see their CO was in the HUMVEE and wave them through. “I told them you wanted to get married and start a family.”
She started to laugh, but caught herself. “From soldier to brood mare.”
Donovan was quick to say, “It’s no one’s business whether you plan to have children or not, but I told them that to speed things up and get them to give you your honorable discharge.”
She shook her head and smiled. “I understand. And thank you. It’s those in Washington and the Pentagon I’m aghast at.”
“I hate to lose a good soldier, but you served the time you signed up for long ago and you’ve earned this.”
“Thank you Captain,” she said.
He looked out the window at a modest house that hadn’t been maintained since the plague. All outward appearances suggested it had been abandoned long ago. The driver pulled in behind a familiar pickup parked on the street next to the curb.
Donovan’s eyes met Deni’s. “Nate and Brian have been told the news. I need to go inside to talk to you and Nate about something in private, then I have to get back to work. You have another two weeks before you’ll be officially free. Until then, you’ll be on leave. As you know, the usual procedures have pretty much been abandoned, but you will have to turn over all of your equipment, including your issued weapons.”
She opened the door. For some reason, she stopped and turned to him. “I feel like I’m deserting you and the others with a big mess that still needs cleaning up.”
Donovan shook his head. “Don’t. You did more than your share. And I’m certain you will continue to help people in other ways as you live your life with Nate and Brian.” He got out, ending the conversation.
Soldiers in the following vehicle had already scrambled out and formed a defense perimeter. They kept watch for any threats as the two walked.
The front door of the house opened and Nate appeared. Brian squeezed past him and ran to Deni. They held each other for a few seconds.
“Dad is happier about you getting out of the Army than he’ll probably let on,” Brian said, keeping his voice low.
She laughed. “Oh, you think?”
They headed for the house. Brian looked up at her as he walked. “I hope you’re not too tired from dealing with the nuts. Dad and Mel made dinner for you.”
Nate met them at the porch, giving her a hug. “I’m glad you’re free now.”
All of them went inside, where Mel noticed something on Donovan’s uniform Deni and Nate hadn’t. He put a glass of wine down on the table and stood in a brace. Saluting, he said, “Good evening, Colonel.”
Taken by surprise, Deni finally noticed the insignia on his uniform.
Donovan casually saluted. “Stop that nonsense.” His eyes lit up. “You’re in the Guard, not the Army.”
“Wow,” Deni said. “You didn’t even mention you had been promoted. I hope I didn’t call you Captain on the way over here.”
Donovan pretended to be trying to remember. “I think you did, but I’ll let it go.”
Nate shook his hand. “Congratulations. Well earned. So they skipped Major and promoted you to Lieutenant Colonel. I guess nothing is the same as it was before the plague.”
“It’s certainly not the Army you knew, Nate. And thank you, but the promotion doesn’t mean a thing,” Donovan said. “Except I might have a little more pull with the Pentagon and that could prove helpful with what’s to come.”
Nate’s smile vanished. “Is there something we need to know?”
“Well,” Donovan rubbed the back of his neck, “that’s why I intruded on your celebration. But it will only be for a few minutes, then I’ll leave you to your dinner.” He moved to a chair. “It’s been a long day, so I’ll talk while sitting.”
Everyone sat and waited for what would probably be bad news.
“I received new orders along with the promotion,” Donovan said. “I expected to be transferred, but that didn’t happen. I’m still responsible for this area, but it seems our fe
ars of Washington wanting a pound of flesh from the people here have come to reality.”
“How much of these hungry people’s food do they want?” Nate asked, his voice flat and hard.
“It will be my job to determine that.” Donovan looked at Mel. “You might want to leave the room, unless you can promise to never speak of what you hear over the next few minutes.”
Mel raised his face and looked Donovan in the eye. “Everyone here is my friend. It will be a cold day in hell before I do harm to people I respect.”
Donovan nodded. “Okay then. Washington has grown impatient and feels the people of this town owe them for the MREs, fuel, and protection they have received from the Army. I have been ordered to assess how much food you can spare without starving you. This is solely my decision. I will be sending them very little at first, just enough to pacify them.”
“At the moment, they can’t spare any food,” Nate said. “Its winter and it will be getting colder soon. If the last few winters are the new norm, we can expect record cold and snow in January, February, and even March.” He looked around the room. “Global warming seems to have turned into global freezing.”
“Yeah, I think they got that one wrong,” Mel quipped.
Deni asked, “How long to do think you can hold them off before they get wise to you? You’re between us and your superiors. If you follow orders, the people here will grow to hate you for taking food out of their children’s mouths; if you don’t, Washington is going to lose patience.”
Donovan stood. “My oath is to the people of the United States. If Washington thinks I’m going to take food from people who would go hungry without it, they’ll learn soon enough where my allegiance is.”
Nate got up from his chair. “You’re telling us you’re willing to risk everything for these people?”
“Unto death,” Donovan answered. “I have no surviving family to miss me and little to live for but to do my best to help this country get back on its feet. I understand Washington’s plight. There are millions going hungry. The minute this town has an excess of food, I will ask for donations, but I refuse to take it by force.”