Xi Wu, First Lieutenant in the People’s Army, had finally stopped the bleeding from being shot in the upper shoulder during the fight at the pipeline terminal. The only reason he was not dead was because of a small metallic transponder that was sewn into the upper sleeve of his combat uniform. Used to track troop movements, the transponder had deflecting most of the bullet away from entering his chest cavity. The result was a useless transponder and a badly damaged arm, but he was alive. Which was more than he could say for any of his platoon mates.
Unfortunately Wu was right handed, and with his arm in a makeshift sling, he was far from deadly with a rifle, and didn’t want to take his chances fighting with a knife. What he did know was that he needed to communicate with his commanders. He needed to inform them about the rebel stronghold, and their failure to secure the pipeline terminal.
The platoon’s radio equipment, first-aid kit, extra ammunition and supplies had been on the truck when it exploded. Somehow the Americans had stolen one of their helicopters and used it against them. They killed everyone in his platoon and the engineering soldiers that had been assigned to shut off the pipeline. He had been told that the Americans would roll over and beg for their lives; that was not true.
Now, Wu stood along the tree line, feet from a freshly dug grave. The grave had a wooden cross at one end with a small red pocketknife tied to the cross. He handled the knife, and thought about taking it, but he did not need to let the rebels know that anything was out of the ordinary. He looked at the knife, wishing that he could read English better. He recognized the word AMERICA, but did not know what the BOY SCOUTS OF characters meant.
They slaughter many of my comrades, and we kill only one! Wu thought to himself. “I will change that,” he whispered.
In the distance, closer to the living structure and the building that housed the horses, Wu could clearly see the dark bulk of something hidden under camouflage tarps. He assumed that the Americans were hiding their stolen helicopter under the netting, but he would have to get closer to find out for sure.
Wu shouldered his rifle and slowly moved along the tree line. He came up to a split rail fence designed to contain the horses at night. Thankfully, the horses seemed to be sleeping on the other side of the field, away from where he was, or where he needed to get to…and that is when he heard voices.
Grace rolled the sugar cube in her fingers, feeling the individual crystals coarse across the ridges of her fingerprints. The grains fell to the concrete floor of the stable as she did, and then she stopped and put the cube back in the bag. She had suddenly remembered the new preciousness of sugar.
She and Joshua had been talking for the better part of a half hour about Senator Payne and his demands for each state in the new ‘Provence of North America’, or PNA. They had shelved the idea of taking down Payne until they knew more about the situation, but to each of them, it was a mission that they both wanted a part of.
“What do you think each of the states will do?” Joshua asked, continuing the conversation.
“I think a few of the states, especially the ones that are already liberal leaning, might cave in.”
“What choice do they really have?” Joshua countered.
“They could organize and fight,” Grace said, smacking her left fist into her right hand. “That’s what I would do.”
“Don’t you think they’re doing that now?”
Grace thought before speaking. “I don’t know if they are or not. I get the feeling that most people feel that the US Government is going to ride the white horse in and save them. There’s been nothing to show for it, I mean we’ve only seen one jet take out one drone. Shit, our two families and Mary have done more damage to the enemy than the Government has!”
Joshua smiled; he had been directly responsible for inflicting most of the damage by blowing up a water tower. The resulting destruction took out most of a platoon of soldiers, a truck and a communications relay station.
“It sounds like the guys in Texas and Louisiana are fighting back,” Joshua offered.
“Yeah that’s good. But that is a long way from here,” she offered. “Maybe that’s a good thing that we aren’t bearing the brunt of it?”
“So, if there’s some of them fighting back and some not fighting, I guess the questions is, what, if anything, will the United States do by the deadline tomorrow?” he asked. “Or, for that matter, what will our state do?”
“You mean Alabama?”
“Yeah.”
“You think they will cave?” Grace asked, not believing that her predominantly conservative state would kneel down and change sides.
“No, actually I don’t. We have a lot of well armed bad ass rednecks in this state…”
“And we’re probably two of them,” she cut him off with a snicker.
They both laughed quietly. To Grace, it felt good to smile, and even to laugh. Has life changed that much in such a short time? She grew serious again, her mind shifting back to her parents.
“You’re a military family, like I am, right?” she asked.
“Right.”
“So,” Grace continued. “I guess you get the need for secrecy?” she asked, suddenly feeling her questions helping her parents justify their own secret life in the CIA.
He nodded, not wanting to sidetrack her line of thinking.
“Joshua, my parents are actually in the CIA,” she said flatly.
Joshua looked at her, waiting for more, but that is what she needed to say. “Well,” he said, taking a deep breath. “That explains a lot. Doesn’t it?”
Grace was about to say something, when they both heard something outside of the stable.
Wu froze once he stumbled over the rock, catching himself from going down. His arm screamed in agony at the motion. He bit his lip and tilted his head towards the red building, listening for the voices, but they had stopped. He knew that their silence would not be good. He started walking backwards up the hill, his feet following the smooth ground of a trail. He was desperate to find something to hide behind. The moon was still bright, and he was by no means safe from being seen.
Wu found a moss lined boulder several meters up the hill and crouched behind it. He pulled his rifle up, struggling against the pain in his shoulder. He didn’t want to fire, at least not yet. His training was crystal clear when it came to being separated from his command structure. He was to gather as much information on the enemy as he could and then find a way to communicate with the command structure. He was not to engage the enemy unless it was a last resort, or the enemy engaged him first.
Wu peered through the small scope of his rifle. In the silvery light of the moon he could see that two enemy soldiers had emerged from the large horse building. They each split directions, one moving along the split rail fence, and the other moved through the silver edged shadows of the trees. They had clearly heard him stumble…a mistake he hoped never to make again.
Wu pivoted his rifle over the moss, acquiring the target that moved along the edge of the woods. That one would be an easier kill. The second one would be exposed to the open, and should also be easy…that is if he had full control of his shoulder.
Grace eased her feet along the shadowy side of the area between the split rail fence and the woods of the ridge. They had extinguished the lantern in the stables the instant they heard the noise. She had her AR-15 rifle up to her shoulder and swept back and fourth in 15 degree segments, looking for anything that might be out of the ordinary. She had done this same routine a dozen times with her father at the hunting club where they belonged.
Joshua let his eyes wonder over to where Grace walked twenty-five feet to his left. He had heard the sound outside of the stables too. But, his mind was on what Grace had confided in him seconds before the sound…her parents were CIA agents.
He shook the thought from his mind, the adrenaline beginning to heighten his senses. He let his eyes scan the forest-laden hill, the light from the moon shot through the canopy like small flashligh
ts. The combination of elevation, shadow and colorless light made it difficult to recognize shapes on the hill. He waited for his eyes to calibrate, and that is when he spotted something that did not look natural. It was a shadow in a rock formation up the hill from Grace. He had grownup playing on this hill and knew what those rocks were supposed to look like from his vantage point. He turned his back on the split rail fence and walked at an angle towards Grace, his rifle sweeping above her head with a possible target up on the ridge.
Grace stopped walking the instant she saw Joshua change directions. He had seen something that she missed, and he had a bead on it. She pivoted towards the direction above her and backed up a foot or two so that she was now standing in the shadows.
Joshua came up next to her, never taking his eyes or his aim off of a point up on the hill.
Wu fought the pain as he steadied his aim on the soldier that seemed to suspect his hiding place. His hands started sweating as his own adrenaline pumped through his veins. He had the soldier in his sites. He waited, his finger heavy on the trigger. He was not to engage first.
Joshua scanned the ridge a few more times and then dropped his rifle to his side and reached out for Grace’s shoulder.
“C’mon, there’s nothing there,” he said, pulling her along behind him, and back to the safety of the stable.
Grace let him pull her until they reached the back entrance of the stable, and then looked at him as if he didn’t know what he was doing. He cut her off before she could speak, by putting his finger up to his lips. She didn’t speak.
“There’s at least one person up the ridge,” he whispered, as he continued to usher her along the long concrete runway of the stable.
“So, why didn’t we…”
“He had the high ground on us, Grace,” he whispered, cutting her off. “Just like when we did at the water tower, he would have mowed us down if we’d been any more aggressive.”
Grace let whatever anger she had for being pulled out of the situation, fade with the realization that Joshua had just saved her life...again.
“What do you want to do?” she asked, looking over her shoulder as they moved away from the backside of the stable.
“Let’s get your dad, this could be bigger than one or two guys on the ridge,” he said, speaking with wisdom.
Wu released the grip on his rifle and relaxed his trigger finger. They had not seen him, but he had been careless nonetheless. He would not make the same mistake again. Wu slung the rifle across his back and headed back up the hill; the American’s were on to him. He would have to find another way to communicate with his commanders.
CHAPTER 8
The Tiller Farm
Ian had only been asleep ninety minutes by the time Grace knocked on his door.
“Mom, Dad,” she said quietly at the door, trying to get them to wake up.
Leah came to the door. She was dressed in black fatigue pants and one of Violet Tiller’s older tee shirts; the shirt was large on her.
“Hey, what’s up,” she said, still trying to clear her eyes.
“You’re up?” Grace asked surprised.
“Dad told me you two relieved him early, so I thought I would do the same for you,” she said, with a motherly tone.
“Thanks. Okay,” Grace shifted gears. “Joshua and I heard something outside of the back of the stable, so we thought we’d check it out. He thinks there are one, if not two people between the back of the barn and the ridge top.”
Leah looked over Grace’s shoulder to Joshua. She had only known the boy for two days, but she had observed that his instincts were precise, and his ability to assess a situation had been spot on. In short, if Joshua thinks there are people on the ridge, then, there are people on the ridge.
“Okay, wake the others. Let’s see what we’re dealing with,” she ordered.
Grace pulled off the windbreaker that Joshua had giver her and started to unstrap the bulletproof vest.
“No,” Leah said, putting her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “I want you to wear it.”
“But, it’s your vest,” she protested.
“Not any more,” she said, kissing the forehead of her daughter.
“Thanks, Mom,”
“You bet,” Leah said, turning back into her room to wake her husband.
Ian met her at the door. “I heard the tone of your voice and decided to get up,” he said pulling a shirt over his chest. “What’s up?”
“The kids thought they saw people on the ridge a few minutes ago,” Leah reported as she strapped on her weaponry.
“Roger that,” Ian said. “Are they waking the others?”
“Yes.”
Ian stepped to the side of one of the windows, mindful that someone was probably peering at the house through binoculars or worse, a riflescope. He then gently lifted one of the blinds to see what he could see. “I think this is going to be a long day,” he said, seeing nothing but the first rays of the morning sun blotting out the darkness of the blue and black sky.
Ten minutes later, the group was dressed, armed and nervous. They filled the Tiller family’s living room, sitting where they could, or using walls to prop themselves up. Ian took a moment to survey the group of soldiers. This would be their first engagement as a collective, and he was the defacto leader.
Grace sat to one side of the family couch. She was gently scratching behind Daisy’s ears. The dog had been given permission to curl up on the dark leather couch and seemed to love the attention and the leather. As far as Daisy was concerned, everyone was there to see her.
Grace’s adrenalin level was still peaked from the earlier encounter. The dog was helping her settle down, and so was the water she was sipping on, in between ear scratches to the dog. Grace anchored one hand on the neck of the bulletproof vest that she was wearing in an attempt to keep it from riding up on her throat. It looked uncomfortable, but she wasn’t complaining.
Joshua stood behind the couch, in a spot close to Grace. There was calmness about his mood. Ian watched him watching the others. The collective nervousness did not seem to faze the boy. His rifle was slung across his back, barrel pointed down, and his arms were crossed. He looked ready to execute any order handed down without question. Ian respected that; it was the type of approach that he looked for from his field officers.
Mary stood by the door, a place that she often found herself. Since the plane crash and the Airstream, Ian had noted that she would often scope out the exits of any room she walked into. Seemingly pleased with her escape route close by, she was typically quiet except for the fact that she kept bouncing her fingers off of her leg like she was playing air-drums to a RUSH song. Ian looked at her eyes, but she was staring off into the distance and did not meet his glance. Her mind seemed to be somewhere else as her head bobbed to the beat she was keeping with her fingers. Occasionally she would tap the metallic steel of the rifle slung around her shoulder to add the clink of a mock symbol to her own personal concert.
Ian now focused across the room. Anna was visibly nervous, sitting next to Adam on the love seat. Her eyes looked lost, unfocused. The bruise on her face had given way to dark bags that hung from beneath her eyes; it was obvious that she was not sleeping. Anna had been one of Grace’s closest friends over the last five years, and Ian never remembered the girl looking quite this disheveled. He knew about the situation with her parents and what she and Grace had gone through to get out of the city; he hoped that she would be able to control the adrenalin rollercoaster that had become life. For now, she seemed to be handling it, as she by bounced her foot up and down on the hardwood floor while clutching at a small fanny pack with a red cross stitched on the outside. Evolving into the group’s field medic was the only thing that gave her purpose.
Adam’s demeanor was less nervous than Anna. If anything, he seemed angry. The boy had watched his Scoutmaster die, had a gun held to his head, and had stabbed an enemy soldier. Adam had almost paid the ultimate price after taking a bullet by that same ene
my. His wounds were raw, but healing quickly; thanks to his youthfulness and the medical attention he was receiving. He was eager to be part of the action, so once everyone was woken up for the meeting, he donned his own equipment, almost daring anyone to stop him. What the group couldn’t see was the interlacing of fingers between Adam and Anna, hidden by gear and the nearness of their bodies.
Leah sat back from Ian a few feet. She visually tried to separate herself from him during times where he had to give orders to other people. She wanted everyone to see that she could take the orders like they could. The behavior was modeled after a psychological ploy used by the CIA, when groups were thrown together as unlikely allies. Ian knew what she was doing and agreed wholeheartedly with her action. He needed her to be able to move freely within the group so that they could make the right strategic decisions based on the information that she learned.
Bob and Violet rounded out the assembly. Bob was sitting in his well-worn recliner chair. Pain etched along the lines of his face; he looked pale at best. His own gunshot wounds were taking much longer to heal than that of his son. But, in true Marine fashion, he was there, engaged and willing to do whatever was necessary to protect his family. Bob had assumed a second in command type of role, and was willing to do anything to protect his family, and now, Ian’s family too.
Bob’s wife Violet was the glue that held the Tiller family together. She always appeared ready and calm. Years of emergency room rounds at the hospital giving her the ability to focus her emotion into action, and compartmentalize the reality into a place that would haunt her in her dreams…something that good soldiers, and ER nurses learn to do as part of the job.
Before Ian spoke, he acknowledged to himself that they had probably let a number of security protocols slip. He could blame how tired he was, or the emotion of almost loosing his family, but at the end of the day, he had been through worse, and he had let his training slip. He vowed not to let that happen again. This group was all that stood between an invading force, Freakers, and the survival of the Tiller and Burrows families.
The State Page 5