State of Defense (State of Arizona Book 1)

by Doug Ball

  “I don’t like it, but I agree with you. I’ll see what I can find.”

  Both men put their phones away and went to work. Ted knew the National News would have this story in a heartbeat, but it wouldn’t come from him. It had always amazed him how many people he met in the east who thought Arizona was still having brushes with the Indians, and it was always the Apaches that were named. His would be a much bigger story, the kind of story that made people buy papers to get something more than a 30 second sound bite and a talking head that says nothing of substance.

  He called his contact at Flagstaff Medical Center.

  10

  Emergency Room

  Flagstaff Medical Center

  8:30 AM

  “Officer Jaegar,” the doctor began holding x-rays and a chart in his hand, “I’m Doctor Ernst. The x-rays and scans show that arrow just missed your kidney. We did get the entire arrowhead. Here, you can have it for a memento. The buckle on your vest deflected the shot or you would have had that arrow in your lung. It would have been iffey then.

  You have a new scar on your head which your hair will cover for a few more years. There are nine stitches there holding your scalp together. An inch lower and you would be dead for sure, a half inch and it’s a maybe.”

  The doctor’s white jacket was embroidered with his name and a fancy little doodad of some kind under it. His hair was gray and full above a face that spoke of tragedy and too many notifications. “I work the ER and this episode of yours is the first time I have cut an arrow out of a patient. You are not the first wounded cop I have worked on. What was it like gun against arrow?”

  Robert Jaegar thought for a moment or two before a smile came on his face, “I was waiting for John Wayne to arrive with the Cavalry and all I got was a civilian, a Deputy Sheriff, and an ambulance. Seriously, with no gun flash to shoot at, it is rough finding a target. The two with the bows knew their stuff. I really think I just got lucky. Two hits and both of them potentially lethal and now you tell me I will walk out of here in a couple of days.”

  “Nope. You ride a wheel chair to the front door and leave on your own two feet probably around noon. We’re going to fill you with liquids and watch you for a few hours to see if you leak. You’ve lost a bit of blood, you know.”

  “Okay, noon it is. What’re my limits?” He was hoping for some down time.

  “Oh, I’d say about three days and then if you aren’t having dizzy spells or peeing blood, you’re set to work. Sorry, I can’t see you out any longer than that.” He jotted something in the chart, initialing the label on the x-rays he asked, “Any questions, Officer Jaegar?”

  “No, sir. Thanks for taking good care of me. I’m kinda partial to this life and all my extremities.” He stuck out his hand to shake if the doctor wanted to.

  He did. They shook hands and separated, the doctor going to the next stall in the ER and the Sergeant laying back down staring at the ceiling.

  It had been close. He pictured in his mind the arrow sticking out of his side pointing to his vitals. The smack of the arrow hitting the man that died echoed through his head again. The sight of the man pushed back by the force of the arrow penetrating his sternum accompanied the sound. The darkness and the slap of the arrows hitting something without warning ran through his mind bringing shivers up and down his spine so intense he physically shook.

  Governor’s Office

  9:00 AM

  “Josie, come in here for a minute, please.”

  “On my way, Governor.” Josie picked up her note pad and went into the inner sanctum.

  “Take an immediate press release.” Six minutes later she ended with, “Read it back to me.”

  Josie did. After two small changes she left the room to get the job done.

  Flagstaff Medical Center

  9:30 AM

  “Are you cold?” a passing nurse asked.

  “No. Just a nightmare.”

  “I have those, too. Can I get you anything?”

  She was cute. He checked her ring finger, nothing. She looked tired. “How about a phone number and a date for lunch?”

  “The phone number is a no, the lunch – I’ll let you know.”

  ‘Well,’ he thought, ‘she didn’t say no.’ “Okay, they let me out of here around noon. Can I check back with you?”

  “That’s when I get off if nothing demanding comes in, I’ll look you up. How’s that?” She smiled.

  “Works for me. I’m Robert, by the way.” He stuck out his hand and smiled his best smile at her.”

  “I’m Nurse. Catch you later, maybe.” She turned and left, never even acknowledging his outstretched hand.

  ‘Well, danged if that don’t beat all,” he thought.

  Robert dug out his cell phone and called Tan to give him a warning only to find out he had the word on the ambush.

  The nurse joined him for lunch after introducing herself as Andrea. The conversation was nice and the promise of another lunch together the next day were memories the Sergeant took home with him. As he parked in the driveway and got out there was something missing. His dog wasn’t barking from the back yard.

  He walked around the house.

  There was no dog in the back yard. The side gate was open, but due to the gravel walk leading up to it there were no tracks. He walked back around front, inserted his key in the front door lock, and turned the key. Something was eating at his guts. He had been scared before, but always at something seen. He saw nothing here except the fact that his new dog was gone. “Oh well, got it from the pound, he’ll show up. The food is here.”

  He stepped to one side of the door before turning the door knob with his left hand as he drew his weapon. He felt the latch release and saw the door move inward. The wall was cold against his back as he stood, weapon across his stomach, finger on the trigger ready to react, watching the door swing inward. He smelled propane.

  The house exploded.

  Tan was the first to arrive on the scene. He immediately called his wife and told her to pack and go back to Texas for a couple of weeks. She balked. He put his foot down. She and the kids went to Texas. He was comforted by knowing the gun in her purse was loaded, and she knew how to use it.

  Governor’s Office

  1:30 PM

  “Governor, the General is here and says it is urgent.”

  “Send him in.” She wondered what would make Miguel Rios say it is urgent without calling ahead.

  The General entered the office in a raggedy pair of jeans and a torn tee shirt, a Diamondbacks ball cap on his head, a day’s growth of beard on his face, and a flushed look. “Governor, we got uno problemo. There are over six thousand armed men and women on the south side of the border cutting wire. Many of them have off road vehicles or four wheel drive light trucks or jeeps. They have threatened to come over no matter what it takes.

  “My spotters number about eighty in that sector. They are grossly outnumbered and each only has 120 rounds of ammo if they are carrying rifles. Most of them only carry 9mm Berettas with two extra clips and you know those semi-automatic pistols aren’t going to stop a man with only one round unless it’s a real lucky shot.

  “The crowd has been warned and they replied, ‘We are coming ready or not. You Norte Americanos are not going to stop our trade.’

  “Governor, it is the cartels. They are attacking Arizona. Not the United States, but Arizona.”

  The Governor picked up her phone, waited a moment as she gestured for the General to grab a drink from the refer in the corner and take a seat, “Get me the President of Mexico, now.” She listened for a split second before hanging up the phone.

  The General grabbed a cola from the refer and turned back to the Governor. “I have issued a total callout of the Guard. There are about two hundred men in a camp about two miles from the crowd on our side of the border. They call themselves The Militia for America. Would you allow me to put them in front of the Mexicans?”

  “General, I cannot think of a better use
for a Militia.” She smiled as she took a bottle of water from the refer and grabbed the ringing phone.

  The General left the room to find another phone.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. President. I will waste no time. There is an armed force on my border preparing to cross. I want them stopped before this turns into war.”

  “Senora, I am sure that is not so.”

  “El Presidente, if you call me a liar one more time, I will declare war. Those armed attackers are preparing to cross over into the sovereign land of the United States. If they do not have your sanction I am sure you know who, what, where, when, and why those peons are there. Stop them.” She took a slug of water from the bottle. There were voices behind the president’s that urged caution in Spanish. The Governor of Arizona spoke fluent Spanish as it is spoken on the border.

  “Mr. President, I am moving troops and militia south to meet them and if one shot is fired in anger the result will not be pretty for both of us. Do you wish to incur the wrath of the people of Arizona, and the United States of America?”

  “Madam Governor, I doubt if your President will move to stop them. He is not too happy with your little charade of fiscal independence. I am not happy with it either. You have shipped back some very disturbing people to my country after we worked so hard to get rid of them. As you know, we are not financially able to care for them as you were.”

  “Stop the war, Julio, or I will personally come down there and cut off your ears.” She slammed the phone down and watched pieces of the instrument fly. “Damn!”

  The General came back into the room. “The Militia is moving. My troops are falling back. Arms and more troops are being moved in. I have three tanks within twenty minutes of the site and five Hummers with roof top machine guns within thirty miles. All are moving. Troops as far north as Phoenix are moving south to the border. Troops in the northern half of the state are redeploying to cover whatever might happen next as best as possible. May I join my troops in the south?”

  “You may. Stay in touch. And, Miguel, be safe and good hunting.”

  He grinned. “Thank you, Governor. Be wise, dear lady, I have grown fond of you as a boss.”

  “Why, thank you, General. The respect is mutual.” She turned to her desk as the General saluted, did an exceptionally smart about face, and marched out. Dropping to her knees, she prayed, a tear rolling through the makeup she had so carefully applied.

  Her prayer was interrupted by the phone ringing. “Yes.”

  She listened.

  “Thanks for letting me know, Desi. Do we break this to the news now or do you want to squash it.”

  The DPS Director replied, “Plaster it all over the front pages. The people of Arizona need to know that someone is getting rough.”

  “Okay, how’s the Sergeant?”

  “Don’t know. Haven’t found him or his body, yet. His unit was parked in the driveway and burned to a crisp. The scene is still too hot to examine. The fire department is treating it like a crime scene and keeping the water damage down to a minimum. The house was gone when they got there.”

  “Keep me posted on this one, please.”

  “Yes, Governor. You can count on it.”

  15 June

  San Rafael State Park

  Guard Outpost

  2:00 PM

  “Captain,” the out of breath soldier began, “They are moving more trucks and jeeps up on that spot down there. The Militia has arrived and is setting up firing points and in my opinion their leader knows a bit about setting up a defense. So far it appears that the invading force has not seen any of our movements or many of the Militia’s.”

  “Very well, get a drink and tell that Radioman to get his butt in here so you don’t have to run back and forth.” The Captain looked at the charts of the area he had spread out on a picnic table with its corners held down by native rock to keep them from blowing away in the steady twenty mile an hour breeze. He moved a few pebbles around and checked the topographic charts. “Nah. We just don’t have enough ammo. Messenger!”

  Six miles Southwest

  “They’s out there, Captain.” The man’s beard fluttered in the breeze of his words.

  The Captain lying next to him, also with binoculars, grunted in agreement. “Sergeant, I think the Guard has given us a tough row to hoe. There’s six, seven thousand folks with weapons across that fence line which they are rapidly turning into a no fence line. There’s only two hundred and fourteen of us and half of us has never heard, seen, or otherwise become acquainted with shots fired in anger at us. We are gonna get hurt.” He eased his belly off a rock.

  “Yup, you’re right, Captain, but ain’t that what we set up for, to stop the wetbacks from crossing the border. They finally gonna let us do it, Sir.” The Sergeant spit his plug out in the direction of a large insect of some kind crawling between a pair of rocks. “I say let’s allow them suckers to get almost to where the ravine turns down there between our two groups and then let them have it with ever’thin’ we got. Them two boys sneakin’ ‘round that two rut road down there are settin’ up some surprises and the boys on the hillsides are ready for anythin’. And, Captain, we got no place to run to. You and I stand and they will, too.” He pulled his canteen up to his lips and took a slug. “You want some.”

  “Nope, Sergeant. I don’t need whiskey to fight.”

  “Ain’t whiskey, its lemonade. Fooled ya, huh?”

  The two of them watched and commented as the stage was set for one very deadly play. They knew they only had two fully automatic weapons, fully licensed with ATFE, of course, and a limited number of grenades the Guard Captain had handed to the Militia boys as they passed by, which came out to be about one for every four men of the Militia. They also knew of the fighting zeal of these men, how they had trained and shared experiences with each other. Many of them had been non-grunt troops that had only fired weapons on a range for fun more than anything else, but 63 had never been in the military of any kind.

  War was hell and these boys were going into it with most of their eyes wide open.

  “Captain, them boys will stand and fight ‘til they run outta ammo, and then they’ll pull them knives on their belts and wade in. I just know it. Them boys is tough.”

  “Well then, Sarge, we’ll just have to show them how it’s done.”

  11

  15 June

  Saturday

  Southwest of San Rafael State Park

  3:00 PM

  The mob south of what had been the border fence now numbered over 8000 men and women, most of them armed, but some of them were obviously just drivers for the conglomeration of vehicles gathered for the assault. The Guard Captain moved south into the valley and used a bullhorn four times trying to stop the coming battle. Every time he tried the darker skinned mob jeered him and screamed obscenities while rendering gestures not designed to promote friendly relations.

  Three tanks had arrived and were hidden in the patch of large boulders at the north end of the valley. A truck full of ammo rolled in from Fort Huachuca. The ammo was quickly distributed to the Guardsmen and then to the Militia, most of which were armed with weapons that used military caliber ammo. The big plus on the truck was a few cases of grenades which found eager hands with the experienced grunts in the Militia. One was heard to say, “Bring them on, we got the equalizers.”

  Each man sat or stood with his own thoughts as the crowd grew. Then out of nowhere a total silence settled on the south side of the border. Every person there stood to attention at a simple blast of a bugle. As the men north of the border wondered what was going on, the silence died with a mournful cry of the bugle that got louder and louder as the same chorus was sounded time after time.

  North of the border, one of the men kneeling behind a position built of rock said aloud, “What the hell is that tune? I’ve heard it before and it sends the willies up my spine.”

  A man not too far away responded, “Think John Wayne at the Alamo. It’s the ‘No Quarter’ call t
hat Santa Anna played before the final charge. They aim to kill us all. No prisoners.”

  “Well, shit. I wasn’t plannin’ on givin’ up to them no how,” another voice chimed in.

  Laughter, strained laughter, filled the air north of the border.

  In the still of silence after the bugle call with everybody in position, the sound of a cheer and over a thousand vehicles fired up to roar like a pride of lions sounding their cry of triumph after a successful hunt. There was a contradiction here, these folks hadn’t been successful like the lions.

  As the Militia and the Guard troops watched, 8,000 men and women of Mexico piled into the vehicles and began the short trip north to the border with four ATVs leading the way with a driver and a rider brandishing a rifle or shotgun high above his head on each one.

  The Arizona men and women awaiting them held their breath for a moment or two and dug deep into their reserves of courage and anger, pulling up much of both. This was an invasion of their homeland. Each man focused on the crowd for a few moments before focusing on a vehicle and then on one individual in that vehicle. The Militia Captain took a deep breath, thinking this fight would be remembered like the Battle of the Alamo, centered the sights of his mini-14 on the lead driver astride an ATV, whispered a prayer for his men, and squeezed the trigger. The driver rolled the ATV which flipped into a large saguaro cactus leaving the passenger flattened by the ATV on the long spines. That one shot was answered by 213 others and the cacophony of battle grew in an instant to a level painful to human ears.