“Roger that, Hawk Lead. Stay on station as long as you can, transports are inbound,” replied the Roosevelt’s communication officer, miles out to sea to the east. The supply ship Rodger Young, now an impromptu rescue ship, had diverted to only a mile outside the harbor during the battle. By the time she steamed into the harbor through the wreckage, all the Roosevelt’s contingent of SeaKing helicopters began to arrive, ready to pull out what surviving Americans they could find. The swarm of massive helicopters began to make their way towards the waiting survivors on board the crippled Coral Sea.
Riggs and the rest of Hawk Flight circled high overhead of the harbor and town, like prowling sharks. Hammer Flight had chased the surviving warlord forces inland, striking a devastating blow to the private little army that funded pirates for decades. Riggs shook his head at the carnage in the streets and the awesome firepower unleashed on the would be warriors.
“Can’t believe they’d be so stupid to attack us like that…” he muttered at the scene below. Most of the town was on fire, many of the buildings nearest the water were simply flattened and lay in pieces in the water they overlooked just an hour before.
“Well, my momma always says, ‘stupid should hurt’,” Jonesy drawled in a dramatic southern accent.
“Thank you, Forrest,” another pilot laughed.
IF WE RUN across the Russian sonsabitches that did this, we’re putting them at the bottom of the Atlantic!” roared the Admiral in a fit of rage not seen in many years. It had been three hours since the last surviving American was pulled from the wreckage of the Coral Sea and airlifted to safety. The battlegroup was making good time, heading due west for home.
“Sir, taking on France and Spain is one thing…” cautioned the cold-war trained Captain of the Roosevelt.
“To hell with them! All of ‘em! I’ve seen the after action report from the Coral Sea’s XO. Damn it, they were already run aground and the Russians hit her again. They didn’t help our sailors and Marines when the Forrestal sunk at the beginning of all this mess. I think they did that as well!”
“We do have authorization,” mused Anzio’s skipper. The assembled captains from around the battlegroup nodded in agreement.
“There are certain lines a sailor—no matter what nation, no matter what conflict—simply does not cross! Well…” the Admiral huffed, one grizzled finger pointing on the map spread out across the polished oak table in the conference cabin. “Two can play at that, gentlemen. Shame we don’t have the opportunity to go hunting…”
“We’ll make Norfolk in about four days at present speed, barring weather…” the Roosevelt’s skipper looked up from a chart. He put the report down and folded his arms. “Still no contact outside the battlegroup. That ICBM sure did a number on all of us.”
“Maybe there’s no one back home to listen. If they nuked us…”
“Tom,” the Admiral said in a not unkind voice, looking at the last speaker, the skipper of one of the support vessels serving as a hospital ship. “We’re not going to fall prey to rampant speculation. Gentlemen,” he said, taking in the rest of the captains. “We have a mission to achieve. We are going home. I don’t care what has been done to them back home until we get there. Then…” he said, balling a fist and slapping it into his other hand.
“It’s our turn.”
THE REGULATORS
Scorched Earth
AND TO ANYONE in America this dark night, anyone listening to my voice, know this: the people of Great Britain stand with you. This is Nigel Tinwattle saying goodnight from London. May God protect us all.”
“Screw that! Send some damn troops, you Limey bastards!” hissed Lance. He slapped the shortwave radio off in disgust. “England done lost its balls.”
Rob finished re-loading his old Winchester 30-30 and leaned it gently against the wall. He sighed, a long, deep, weary sound that unsettled his friend. “Don’t know how we’re gonna get out of this one.” He passed a bottle of Kentucky bourbon to Steve who took a swig and passed it back with a hiss.
“You know we can’t stay no longer,” said Lance. He all but shrugged his shoulders. “whole damn town’s fled north. There’s just too many Mexicans and they’re all armed now. Like the damn Chinese just gave all the Mexicans guns and said ‘Go on, now, take all that land back.’” He shook his head, creating a small cloud of dust and fine ash.
Ash. The fires had swept down out of the Coronado National forest and consumed Nogales days ago. All around the compound now the world was choking in smoke and armed Mexican nationals. For all the Regulators knew, a Chinese army was marching north right then, covered by smoke from Nogales. It was the definition of an untenable situation.
Rob frowned. It wasn’t fair. He slammed a dusty gloved fist into the radio bench. Steve caught the bourbon bottle as it tipped over. “We were so close. We saw this coming and no one bothered to listen.”
“Well, all the Border Patrol boys high-tailed it a while ago. No one left now but us, I reckon, anyway.” This time Lance did shrug. He had gotten the mad out of his system and resigned himself to what fate had served him. He took another slug of the bourbon. It helped.
A knock at the door revealed the Ed Franks, smiling like a cat. “We’re all set Rob. Anyone pokes around here’ll be in for a treat.”
“I never thought I’d leave this land,” muttered Rob to himself. He sighed again, stood and fetched his rifle.
“All rigged up?” asked Lance.
“Yup, got your standard homemade explosives and napalm traps at all the doors and windows. Jimbo set up one doozey of a pit down yonder by the mess hall. Got stakes dipped in sheep shit at the bottom.”
“Nice. Too bad we won’t see the look on their faces when they fall in that,” grinned Steve.
“Have the boys gas up all the vehicles we got left that’ll run. Fill up every can we got—hell, even the water bottles. We’ll burn the rest.”
Lance looked at Rob. “Food and supplies?”
“Take everything we can. Burn everything else. Scorched earth, Lance.” Rob put on his weather-beaten Stetson and opened the door to the simmering Arizona morning. The ever present cloud of ash and smoke threatened to blanket the room immediately. Through the dim light, Rob grimaced. Over his shoulder, he said, “Scorched earth, boys. We leave them nothing but death and ashes. Exactly what they gave us.”
Ed nodded then turned to go but paused, as if unsure what to say. Steeling himself for the answer, he asked, “Have we heard from the women?”
Rob turned and smiled. His first genuine smile in days. “Yes, as a matter of fact. They made it just t’other side of Tucson this morning. Susie’s got family there. They should be fine till there till we get to the Apache and get the hunting cabins set up.”
Ed nodded again. “Any word from ‘em today?”
Lance and Rob shared a look. “No,” said Ro. It sounded like an apology. Rob set his face in stone again and went past Ed. “Come on. We’ve got a compound to destroy.”
It took longer than Rob had hoped, but eventually, every truck, Jeep and trailer was loaded for bear with food, water, gas and ammo. The chickens had been taken ahead with the women and children. That left the handful of the Franks’ sheep and the horses. After their mounts were loaded on trailers, the sheep were rounded up and shot. They couldn’t be taken along and Rob wasn’t about to let them be eaten by the invaders.
“Well, she’s the last one,” said Lance, pointing at the docile ewe, watching the Regulators through dull eyes and chewing a its cud.
Rob strolled over to the sheep and patted its head. “One last act of defiance.” He hefted the sheep and carried it over to the compound’s well. With one smooth motion, he slit the poor animals throat and dropped the twitching body into black pit of the well. A few heartbeats later there was a muffled splash.
“Hope the bastards are thirsty,” said Lance with a grin.
Rob cleaned his blade and stared into the darkness of the well’s mouth. He offered a silent prayer as
king for guidance and the strength to do what must be done. He asked for forgiveness for the lives he’d taken in the defense of his country and his family. He asked for forgiveness for the lives he was about to take. Lastly, he prayed for the men he’d lost and those who remained. Above all, Lord, he prayed, protect these Patriots.
Rob turned to face the last of the Regulators with a calm in his heart not felt sense before The Troubles. All their vehicles, dusty, rugged trucks, SUVs and Jeeps, were loaded. It looked exactly like what it was…an evacuation.
The first flickers of flames appeared in the windows of a nearby building. Soon, he figured, the whole place would go up. Through the dim afternoon ash-chocked light Rob turned to address the men. “Boys, I think you know as well as I, that our troubles are just beginnin’. We’re gonna travel fast, and we’re gonna travel hard. I don’t like runnin’ any more’n you all do, but we don’t have a choice any more.” He saw the downward glances and could feel the shame of retreat radiate from his men.
“But that ain’t nothin’ compared to what those foreign bastards are facin’.”
Some of the Regulators whooped and waved hats.
“I told this to Lance already, but I’ll tell you now, too.” He could almost taste the anticipation. “Our forefathers went through all this in the Revolution. Outgunned and out manned. We’re gonna do what they did. Behind every wall, every rock, every fence and every house, they’re gonna find a rifle pointed at them. We will hit them and melt into the fog, forest or desert, wherever the hell we’re at. We will steal supplies from them in the night, take no prisoners and show no mercy.” The men watched him with rapt attention. Rob smiled.
“So remember this on our long road ahead of us. Today we retreat. Tomorrow, we fight back.”
The Regulators cheered and waved hats in response. A few fired off shots into the air. Rob stepped up on the kick-plate of the his big truck and waved a hand for silence.
“Regulators! Mount up! We head north!”
CLOSE TO SUNSET, Rob’s radio crackled to life as the Regulator convoy closed in on the outlying suburbs of Tucson: “One, we got a roadblock up ahead ‘bout 2 miles up 19.” Steve was reporting from his Jeep a few miles ahead of the convoy as it rolled north on Interstate 19. “Looks like someone wants to shut down the highway going into Tucson.”
Rob cruised on for a few moments, thinking. They’d have to stop for fuel soon, or begin to deplete their reserves already. He grabbed the radio, “Hold up there, Overwatch. I’ll come up.” He switched frequency so all the Regulators could listen.
“Regulators, we have a roadblock just south of Tucson. Looks like the suburbanites are tryin’ to hole up. Overwatch has stopped a few miles up ahead of us. You all park there while I check it out.” When he received acknowledgements from all the vehicles, he switched back to Steve’s frequency.
“You catch that, Overwatch?”
“Yep.”
“Good. You got glass on the roadblock?”
“Yeah…I can see a couple big rigs been jackknifed across all lane….couple ‘a cars—-they look burned out.”
“Any movement?”
“Negative, One. I don’t see no one….don’t see any lights in town or any houses either. This is creepy man, even considerin’ no one has power. You’d think there’d be candles or fires or lamps or something’. I see garbage and abandoned cars and that’s it. But the cars…they look like they were, I don’t know, almost placed where they’re at. It’s strange.”
Rob considered this. “You been spotted?”
“No way. I’m off-road to the East behind a hill in a stand of cactus. I hiked up here to check things out.”
“Alright, well, I’m comin’ up to your turn off now. Gotta hide your tracks better, man.”
Lance laughed. “Good luck.”
Behind him in the faded light of the setting sun filtered through all the smoke, he could see the others parking on the highway and getting out of vehicles to stretch and socialize.
“Regulators, maintain cover in all directions…I want fire teams at the four corners. We will not be surprised out here, understood?”
“Roger that, I’ll rustle up the guard,” replied the gravelly voice of Ed Franks.
Rob turned on his hazard lights and approached the road block at a leisurely 20 miles per hour, both hands on the wheel. He wanted to anyone watching to see he was approaching slowly and not threatening at all.
“These rigs aren’t a roadblock,” he radioed to Lance. “They’re jackknifed alright, like on accident, but they’re a good 10 yards apart, almost exactly. Looks more like a fortification. I have to twist and turn to get through the maze, they could pour fire down on me from every direction. A murder lane.”
“Sure don’t look like it from here…” replied Lance over the radio. “Looks like lucky accident created a roadblock.”
Rob carefully drove between the two semi’s and came to a stop when someone with what looked like an AR-15 stood up behind a burned out car and took aim at his truck. Rob jumped a little despite is expectation of such a surprise. “Contact,” he muttered as he put the truck in park and waited with both hands up off the wheel in plain sight.
“I got two more on your right…” warned Lance. “I can get one, maybe two, but not all of them…targeting your eleven o’clock first. He looks leaderish.”
The man with the AR-15, ignorant that his head was securely in the crosshairs of a high powered hunting rifle that he couldn’t see, approached slowly and motioned for Rob to roll down the truck’s window. He didn’t appear to have the cocky attitude of one who clearly had the upper hand. Rob found that interesting and heartening at the same time. The man outside his truck looked calm but his eyes were constantly scanning. He had training.
“Sorry, mister. Road’s closed. You’ll have to turn around.”
Rob estimated the man to be in his early forties. He had sunken, tired looking eyes and that lean, hungry look of a soldier too long on patrol. Rob took a second glance before he answered, hoping to appear nervous, rather than calculating. He was right. The man next to his truck looked downright exhausted. Rob casually noticed that the AR-15 was safed. That was interesting.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was just trying to work my way north—“
“Said the road’s closed.” The man looked at Rob’s truck bed, loaded to the gills with supplies. Rob suppressed a grimace. In their haste to leave before the Chinese/Mexican forces arrived, he had neglected to have everyone cover their loads in tarps or sheets. He was inviting a robbery.
“You alone?” the man asked, eyes still on the rolling toy store that was Rob’s truck.
“No.” Rob waited for the man to glance around nervously. When he looked inside the cab again, Rob continued. “I’m a member of the Arizona Regulators—“
“You the guys down at the border that caused all the ruckus?” It looked like he was trying to hide a grin.
“Yes,” Rob said cautiously.
“Brady!” called a second man with two pistols pointed at the truck. He walked in front and came up next to the first man. “Hurry up!” he hissed as if Rob couldn’t hear every word from two feet away.
“Shut up—this guy’s a Regulator,” said Mr. AR-15, whom Rob now knew was Brady. To Rob: “Yeah, we had a bunch of you guys come through about a week ago. Mostly women it looked like, but tough as nails. That’s why we set up the roadblock.”
“What?” asked Rob. “Surely they didn’t cause any trouble…”
“Oh no. They gave us the idea. Told the mayor about all the shit goin’ on down near Nogales. Kinda spooked us, y’know?” said Brady with a half-shrug.
Rob nodded and looked at the road block again. “The rest of my men are about a mile behind me. We’re headed to the other side of Tombstone. Trying to regroup.”
“Is it true the Red Chinese are invading?” asked the man with the pistols. Rob was relieved to see he had lowered his weapons, though they were clearly not safed.
“Yeah,” Rob sighed. “That’s why we’re on the road. Mexicans are being supplied by the Chinese now. Saw a damn tank a few days back and ‘spect there’s a lot more where that came from. A Chinese tank! In Arizona!” He shook his head in disgust.
“Sweet Jesus,” muttered Brady.
“I don’t believe it,” whispered his companion.
“Believe it, boys. They’re coming. You can’t fight them on your own. We all got to pitch in on this one…but I think we all got to survive the first wave first. Best high tail it east or north or hell, even west.”
The two men looked at each other. Brady seemed to consider Rob’s advice.
Rob pressed on. “Just get out of their way first. I hear there’s an army of vets forming up near Denver. They’re making it the new national capital, you know. Maybe that’s where we all ought to go. At least someone wants to fight back.”
“We heard that too,” said Brady. “But to leave everything…”
“Screw this place…I ain’t dying for this desert. I’m taking Martha and we’re getting’ the hell out of here, man,” said Brady’s companion. He turned to Rob. “Can we come with you, mister? My wife and me got guns and we’ll bring our own supplies—“
Rob held his hand up. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think so…” Rob saw the man’s face fall. Before anger could take hold, Rob continued. “At least not yet. We’re all headed for Tombstone, once we swing around the north side of Tucson. Figure the ChiCom’s will want Tucson and head west and north for Phoenix. We aim to take ‘em in the ass.”
Brady smiled. “Harassment. Nice.”
Rob paused—maybe this Brady was sharper than he appeared. “Anyway, my men and I need to push on through. I uh…I don’t suppose we could gas up here and be on our way?”
Brady’s companion’s face turned dark. “You won’t take us but you’ll take our gas—“
Brady put a hand on the man’s chest and pushed him back to quiet him. “Don’t see why not,” he said over his shoulder to Rob. “Take what you need from the abandoned cars on the interstate, I guess. Most folks left a month or so back. Gave us a lot of cars but no one to use ‘em.”
Alea Jacta Est: A Novel of the Fall of America (Future History of America Book 1) Page 66