“You’ll need to decide whether we migrate over there or stay here, sir. It’s a tough choice—follow orders or do what’s needed here despite orders.”
“I know one thing, and that’s that I am not trying to wander all over Pennsylvania with damn near a division of guerrillas, most of ’em not even military. Not when I’m actively engaged with the real enemy already. And I’m not eager to babysit Regular Army units and their guerrillas until the weather warms up. No way.”
“I was hoping you’d say that. I’m looking forward to Operation Little Blue Engine Who Could.” Eagan smirked and gazed innocently at the overhead.
Taggart snorted. “Ain’t that a mouthful of stupid. I’m not saying that every time we talk about this. Operation Jesse James fits a lot better. Nice and historical, too. We know where their key railway stations are, where they keep their herds of horses and hide stockpiles of food or whatever they’re moving on these railways. We’re going to strike those and cripple the enemy’s transport and logistics. Those same railways will let us strike hard and deep and quick.”
“Keep them squealing from the feeling, sir?”
“Do you ever get tired of irritating me? Isn’t it exhausting?”
“Yes sir, but totally worth the effort.”
Taggart tried to suppress a grin, but failed. It was hard to yell at someone when grinning, so he gave up on the idea. “Fine, fine. Okay, new plan. We’re going to send them a company—a platoon of troops with military experience and two platoons of the civvy fighters. Tomorrow they can leave to head toward this place… What was it called?”
“It’s called Penryn. It’s south of Lititz, sir.”
“Okay, we’ll send them to Penryn. They can handle babysitting the General’s troops and guiding them up to northwest Pennsylvania. That’s where a lot of the fighting is, according to the scuttlebutt I get from Dark Ryder, and it gets the General’s people out of our damn way.”
“Scuttlebutt is the Squids and Jarheads, sir. In the Army we just use real English and call them rumors.”
Taggart clenched his jaw as he turned to write out the orders. “Find me that company and go be useful for once,” he snapped, but Eagan still smirked as he saluted and left. Damn, that kid really was like a little brother. Only more irritating. But he trusted Eagan to pick the best people he could for the mission.
* * *
1330 HOURS - ZERO DAY +178
Cassy jumped a bit as her radio crackled and then Ethan’s voice came through. “Cassy, be advised, Taj Mahal is reporting they encountered a squad of Army Regulars from out west. They say they’re supposed to meet with our friend Taggart at Clanholme and will wait here until he arrives. The Indians have a guy escorting them to the copse of trees north of us. You know, where Choony hid out when Peter was here.”
Cassy frowned. Army? There was still a U.S. Army? Ethan hadn’t seemed surprised about this. Must be something he knew but hadn’t seen a need to share. “Copy that. A platoon incoming. Get Michael and our Marines up and ready to go meet them in ten mikes.”
Cassy hurried into her house and threw on clothes better suited to riding and—God forbid—fighting, along with her rifle and her 72-hour backpack, and headed to the stables. Her usual horse was already being saddled, and she made a note to thank Ethan later for thinking of that detail. Michael was the first there, but the other Marines he’d tagged were straggling in. They all wore civilian clothes, and she frowned. She should have thought of that. No need to advertise that the Clan had its own Marines who no longer operated within the traditional chain of command. She hadn’t thought there was a chain of command anymore.
Ten Marines, with Michael and Cassy at the head, rode out toward the copse of trees. They spread out enough so that anyone firing on them could only take down one at a time. Michael set the pace, and it was quick but not so fast that the Army squad might feel like they were getting attacked out there in the middle of nowhere.
They’d been holed up in the Mountain this whole time, loaded with food and provisions and sitting out the apocalypse in comfort and safety. God only knew how insulated Houle’s soldiers had been from the horrors of this new reality, out here in the world. She had low expectations for their attitudes and she worried about how they might behave. Trying to remember the attitudes and behaviors of people prior to the EMPs now kind of made her blood boil. It’s a lot easier to be rude if you don’t really believe the other person might simply bury a hatchet in your skull rather than try to deal with you…
As they approached the copse, Cassy saw ten “visitors,” decked in their camouflage field uniforms—BDUs, Michael called them—loaded with packs and pouches. Their horses were tethered within the copse, and their saddlebags bulged. These guys were better off than ninety-nine percent of everyone out here, and probably didn’t even appreciate their wealth. They were scattered a bit, in a defensive formation with rifles ready but not raised. That was a good sign. They looked as uncertain as she felt.
When they were some ten yards away, Michael reined in his horse and the others followed suit, then dismounted. Cassy climbed off her horse and walked toward the guy in front, but Michael walked faster. Well, if Michael felt it wise to reach them first, she’d play along. Keeping her safe was his job right now after all, and you never knew how it would go when you first met strangers.
Michael scanned the soldiers and diverted, ignoring the man in front whom Cassy would have talked to first. He went to a rather short woman in the main body and smiled. “Lieutenant, I assume this is your command? Welcome to Clanholme. I’ve found it to be a good group of people. Loyalists should have no issues with these folks, in my experience.”
Cassy eyed Michael, confused. Why had he separated himself from being introduced as a Clanner? Cassy noted that her own Marines were spreading out, probably unconsciously, almost mirroring the soldiers’ positioning. She held her tongue, waiting to see what Michael had up his sleeve.
The woman removed her helmet, and Cassy saw that she had her brunette hair up in a tight, flat bun. Practical, with no pretense. That could be good or bad. “Lieutenant Mavis. Thank you for meeting with us. We were told we’d be greeted by the leader of this ‘Clan.’ Who might you be?”
Michael nodded. “I’m Captain Parker, under Major Taggart. He sent us out here to meet up with you. Pardon the civvy uniform, but seemed best to fit in and not stand out.” He extended his hand toward Cassy, who nodded. “This is Clan leader Cassandra Shores. I asked her to come, since this is after all her territory that we’re meeting in. I’ve found her a gracious host, but no-nonsense.”
Cassy struggled not to lose her composure and kept her expression carefully neutral, but her mind was a jumble. Obviously, Michael was pretending to be one of Taggart’s men, but why? It must have been a last-second decision on his part, or he would have warned her. Dammit, she’d almost given away the ruse, too! She watched Michael intently for cues as to what would come next.
The lieutenant’s eyes roved over Michael for a moment. She was sizing him up in an instant, cold and calculating, and must have found him worthy or whatever. Then she looked over to Cassy and walked up to her. “Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m Lieutenant Mavis. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. America needs more patriots to step up and save what can be saved, like you have done. Your government thanks you.”
Cassy grinned, but it was forced. “Good afternoon, Lieutenant. I didn’t know you spoke for the government. The last I checked, we have none of the three legitimate branches of government, and even if there were, we have no president—no election, no Constitutional government. No such thing, at the moment.”
Mavis frowned. “We’re under Martial Law, ma’am. All Americans are duty-bound and obligated to obey the instructions of the legitimate Commander-in-Chief until the rebuild.”
“Well, you’re free to take that up in court, if you can find one that’s legitimate. Since there’s no Constitutional government, there’s no new C-in-C. None legitimate, anyw
ay. For now we’re fine here without military rule, but thanks anyway for the dictatorship offer. It’s good to know there’s a U.S. Army still, though—when the government reforms, we’ll need that to help restore order. When we have elections again, of course, we’ll be thrilled to be part of a new America. I can’t wait.”
The lieutenant nodded once, curtly. “I see. Well, we’re not here to subjugate survivors. Someday we’ll enforce the law, even here, but for now we don’t require submission to the lawful authority of the Commander-in-Chief in Colorado. We’d rather fight the real enemy, not misguided survivalists.”
Cassy shrugged. “That’s good, bearing in mind we’re self-defending farmers, not pre-EMP skinhead survivalists. Required by Colorado or not, though, we’re not really big on submission to unlawful authority. Misguided, maybe, but we’ll wait for Constitutional government to return. In the meantime, we’ll just be happy to still be alive when the Dying Time is over.”
“Dying Time?” Mavis asked, a confused look on her face.
“Yeah. It’s not over yet, as we keep seeing. It’s a tragedy… All those poor well-guided people won’t be around much longer. Or perhaps you aren’t aware of the starvation, disease, and opportunistic violence out here in the real world—you’ve probably had it pretty cushy in Colorado, judging by your supplies and horses—but the rest of the country wasn’t as lucky as you. So sorry, but I suspect that the other forty-nine states will pretty much think like we do about the whole military dictatorship idea. So what are you actually here for, if not to subjugate us?”
The lieutenant had stood still during Cassy’s speech, eyes narrowed, but hadn’t interrupted. Cassy figured she was cursing her for being a damned, dirty civilian, but that was just too damn bad.
Jaw clenched, Mavis replied, “Irrelevant. We have mission orders, which we’ll adhere to, as much as I’d like to take my own initiative here. Colonel Taggart was supposed to meet us here.”
“Yes, Lieutenant,” Michael said, with a very slight emphasis on her rank so it sounded dismissive even to Cassy’s civilian ears. Good, the snotty soldier deserved some lumps to her ego, as far as Cassy was concerned.
Michael continued, “Unfortunately, the realities of the conflict out here in the real world, beyond the bubble you’re used to, don’t always allow us to do as we wish. For example, you wouldn’t much like the result if you took some impulsive hostile action against Mrs. Shores and her Clan—they’ve come through much tougher trials than a junior officer’s pique. As for Colonel Taggart, op tempo and enemy action meant he was only able to exfiltrate one unit, under my command. Had a hell of a time getting here, too. However, I’m now familiar enough with the area to guide you where you need to go and to keep you out of trouble while you learn to fight and survive out here.”
“Right. So, you’ll guide us to him. I take that to mean he’s not in this operational area as per his orders, so our going to him is now a problem. If I follow orders by meeting him where he is, I violate my orders to station in this region and establish operations for future ops against the enemy.”
Michael nodded with a sympathetic shrug. “Sorry, Lieutenant. We have a fluid situation here, and adaptability is a necessity if you want to survive outside your nice warm barracks. We’ve been out here actually fighting for months and months.”
“Yes, but Headquarters said—”
Michael interrupted, “Listen, it’s the old thing about HQ never knowing what it takes to win in the field and never recognizing their own ignorance or respecting the operational knowledge of those on the lines who actually fight. Every war has that problem. But don’t worry. It won’t take long for you to adapt to the reality outside of Colorado Springs. Well, you’ll either pick it up quickly or you’ll die, but either way, this world—out here, the rest of the country—doesn’t much care about your orders from Colorado, Lieutenant, nor what you or your HQ command wish the strategic situation might be as opposed to what it really is. However, I have some good news.”
Cassy smiled as Michael dressed her down—chewed her out—in his not very subtle military style. She figured there was a lot more going on under the surface here that she couldn’t see or understand, as a civilian, but even the part she could see made her pretty happy. She really didn’t like this self-important lieutenant. Self-righteous little—
“So,” Michael continued, interrupting Cassy’s thoughts, “the new plan for you is either go home and get new orders, or adapt to the situation and maybe achieve the intent of those orders.”
“And what is the intent of these orders, Captain Parker?” she said to Michael. It seemed a challenge but she looked a lot less self-assured now, and Cassy suppressed an urge to grin.
“From what the colonel has said—and he was a major when I left—the intent is to secure the main remaining food producing areas of Pennsylvania for use by the Army and some loyalist allies. I don’t know who these ‘allies’ are, but that’s what we were told. And I know where the food areas are, so you can still infiltrate and rally to work toward your mission objective of securing the food production areas and kicking out the invaders.”
“The allies are loyalists, Captain, of a new republic building in Indiana and surrounding regions. They fall under the legitimate U.S. chain of command, having properly understood that Martial Law has made all able-bodied Americans de facto soldiers in this war under the authority of General Houle, the commander-in-chief of the United States. Your Clan here could learn something from these patriots. So where is it you suggest that we establish our theater of operations?”
Michael showed no expression of anger or irritation, only a bored indifference as far as Cassy could see. He replied, “Mrs. Shores has made a fairly compelling case about the status of America’s continuity of government, all wishful thinking aside. Regardless, we’re on the same side, or should be, and I follow Colonel Taggart’s orders either way. The unfortunate facts are that the enemy has rendered much of this region barren with a brown haze they sprayed. Most of the land remains contaminated, even if the immediately lethal effects of the chemical have dissipated enough to allow travel.”
The lieutenant frowned. “So you’re saying the land around here is compromised?”
Michael nodded. “That’s why the enemy has redeployed to the area of northwest Pennsylvania, which is part of what has caused problems for the colonel with trying to disengage. The OpFor scorched this AOI and then retrograded, basically. I’ll be happy to show you a couple of points of interest that really make it clear the kind of devastation they wreaked in this area. Lancaster, Adamstown, some others.”
The lieutenant nodded. “I see what you mean. That completely changes things. Operating without regular comms with HQ requires a certain tactical flexibility, I suppose. Yeah, I can see that. My men and I need to resupply from local resources and get at least a twenty-four-hour R-and-R before proceeding, since we find ourselves a bit adrift. Then one of your men can guide us toward the op area Colonel Taggart has identified.”
Michael said, “Absolutely, Lieutenant. These people don’t have much, but we’ll find a way to compensate them somehow while we wait for additional units in our op area. Any idea how many units are transitioning through here and what the timetable is?”
Maven shrugged. “We’re coming through in units ranging from squad to platoon. A new one every three days, until we get our battalion mustered in the new op area. I’ll leave written instructions for units that follow. Now… Any chance there’s an actual shower? We haven’t had a shower in two weeks, and we’re feeling the grunge.”
Cassy smiled and stepped forward, trying to make her eyes light up too—pretending wasn’t easy when she wanted to gouge the woman’s eyes out. “Oh, yeah. You’re in luck! We have wood-heated water and an outdoor shower. We’ll bring you and your men through in twos, and return them to you with supplies. Whatever we can scrounge up, anyway. It’ll drain us, but we’ll make do.”
Inwardly, Cassy seethed. Self-righteous, soft-sk
inned pampered bitches, the lot of them. Well, they wouldn’t be soft for long, not if they survived being outside their cushy Colorado mountain base.
- 20 -
1230 HOURS - ZERO DAY +179
OVER A LATE lunch, Cassy sat talking with the Council and eating constant stew as usual, with what was left of the fresh bread. Today, however, thanks to their new cold-frame grow beds, they had a fresh pile of micro-greens, even after the rest of the Clan had eaten. The baby spinach, succulent kale, and tender sprouts they now grew in the middle of winter were a very welcome addition to their usual tedious winter diet. They wouldn’t have them daily, but every week or two they’d be able to harvest a new batch. Soon they’d start staggering grow-bed starts to different days and have fresh salad more often.
The fresh salad had put everyone in a festive mood. They usually ate the bare minimum their bodies required, being tired to their core of barley or oatmeal for breakfast and constant stew the rest of the time, but today it was amazing how appetites picked up when the kitchen simply added something new to the menu. Cassy would never have thought she’d crave a fresh green salad quite so much.
Standard manners went out the window with fresh greens on the table, and Cassy cheerfully asked between mouthfuls, “So, Ethan, what’s the status out east?” Another bite of greens quickly followed.
Ethan stopped himself from chomping down on a forkful of salad and set the laden fork down with a look of utter longing. Cassy, enthusiastically chewing her own forkful of fresh greens, resisted the urge to smile.
“First item up is the troops from the Mountain. They’re passing through regularly and will keep passing through. They’re predicting an entire battalion will filter through here, a few at a time. Michael managed to get the first unit, breathing down our necks, to divert from here to northwest Pennsylvania. Let them be someone else’s problem.”
Dark New World (Book 4): EMP Backdraft Page 33