Each man dropped the spoon on his grenade and lobbed it toward the checkpoint. While the grenades were in flight, the four men produced automatic rifles and began to fire. Each team member had a designated target. The first shot the tires out of the four vehicles immediately behind their truck. The second opened fire on the vehicles in the oncoming lanes of traffic and stopped them dead in their tracks, then lobbed a grenade toward the disabled vehicles. The third and fourth men took careful aim at every soldier in their line of sight and shot them dead as the grenades exploded, crippling cars and killing dozens of terrified motorists.
With the first stage of his plan executed to perfection, Kaliz proceeded to phase two. Two of his men took up position in front of the truck and tossed smoke grenades towards the checkpoint, blinding the confused and wounded soldiers and preventing a counterattack. As clouds of white smoke shrouded the scene, the two men lobbed grenade after grenade at the checkpoint. Cars exploded and mangled body parts flew in all directions. Any soldier managing to escape the heavy veil of acrid smoke in an attempt to advance was immediately gunned down in a hail of bullets.
Kaliz and his partner sprinted to the center of the bridge. Every few hundred yards, Kaliz reached into his vest and tossed a brick of C-4 to the pavement. He knew the team on the other end of the bridge had carried out their portion of the plan successfully; not a single car came toward them in the oncoming lanes. A few minutes later, Kaliz heard the rat-a-tat of automatic gunfire coming from his brothers on the other team. Once Kaliz was reunited with his counterparts, the final stage of his plan could be carried out.
“Did you set your charges, my brother?”
“I did.”
“Good! Praise be to Allah for watching over us.”
“Allahu Akbar.”
Kaliz reached into his vest, took out the remaining two charges and tossed them at his feet. The four men gazed at each other, smiles illuminating their faces. They did not fear death because they knew in their hearts that Allah would reward them in the afterlife. Kaliz flipped the cover on the detonator and pressed the button.
The Golden Gate Bridge was rocked by twenty-four massive explosions, sending large sections of concrete and steel raining down into the murky water below. The West Coast had just suffered its first major attack from The Silent Warriors.
***
Lance McGee stood in line at the front gate of Fort McClellan, Alabama, waiting to be processed into the refugee camp. He was shivering, not because he was cold, but because he was terrified. Had the weather been a bit warmer, the people standing around Lance would have known immediately that something was wrong with him because he could not stop trembling. If not for the incessant rain, the tired, hungry citizens standing in line might have noticed the pungent urine stain covering the front of his jeans. Lance’s bloodshot gaze remained fixed at his dirty feet for fear that someone might look into his eyes and know something was horribly wrong.
For the next hour, Lance crept forward in line, getting closer to the front gate of the decommissioned army installation. Fort McClellan was once the largest military base in the country and one of the most famous. It housed the Women’s Army Corp that trained the very first women to be soldiers during World War II. Fort McClellan also housed the training camps for the Military Police Corps and the Chemical Corps. In 1999, it was decommissioned by the United States Army and became home to the Center For Domestic Preparedness run by the Department of Homeland Security. Residents from all over The Pulse Zone desperately scrambled to get to Fort McClellan. They all wanted one thing—security. In the eighteen months since the collapse, the Unified American Empire fought to restore law and order to keep the population safe. Refugee camps erected across The Pulse Zone simply couldn’t handle the strain of food riots, gang violence, and the countless waves of people terrified of the slave trade.
Fort McClellan became a beacon of hope. The installation sat roughly fifty miles to the south of the southern boundary of The Pulse Zone. The electromagnetic pulse that plunged the Eastern Seaboard into darkness had no effect on Fort McClellan. The power grid had been knocked out but was easily repaired. President Simon Sterling knew the significance of the installation, and given its close proximity to Atlanta, it was the obvious choice to be the headquarters of the Unified American Empire’s military forces on the East Coast. Because of its importance, Fort McClellan enjoyed a limitless supply of resources, thanks in large part to the ongoing pillaging of the unaffected oasis that was California.
As Lance got closer to the checkpoint, it took every bit of concentration he had to keep from passing out. The lives of his wife and children were at stake; he had to do this for them. He had no doubt about the consequences of failure. If he botched this, they would be raped and murdered. He had no other options.
As the smartphone in his pocket began to vibrate, Lance let out an involuntary shriek and his shaking escalated, alarming those waiting nearby.
“Sir, are you okay?”
“Do you need help?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Uh… n-n-nothing. I’m sorry. J-j-just have a splitting headache.” Lance tried his best to smile at the people around him, but it didn’t lessen their alarm.
“Should we get a doctor? Honey, walk up to the front of the line and tell...”
“No! I said I was fine! Don’t do that!” Lance knew he needed to get a grip. He was drawing unwanted attention to himself when he could least afford to do so. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. Please forgive me. It’s just so cold and my feet hurt.”
Lance turned his back on the meddlesome couple, hoping they wouldn’t cause a scene. As his phone continued to vibrate, Lance reached up to tap the Bluetooth device in his ear. Unable to utter a single word, Lance coughed, hoping that would be enough.
“Good, good, good. Mr. McGee, I’m so glad you’re still with us. I don’t really expect you to answer me, given that someone talking on a phone these days would definitely attract attention. We wouldn’t want to do that, now would we?”
Just the sound of the man’s voice sent Lance over the edge, gasping for air. His eerie, composed politeness brought forth images that were anything but tranquil, images of torture—not just his own, but the torture of his children as well.
“Now, now, Mr. McGee. We can’t have you carrying on like this when we’re so close to being finished. Do calm down, sir. Please.”
Lance knew he had to get a grip – and fast!
“That’s much better, Mr. McGee. I really do wish we could have one of our pleasant talks, but I guess we’ll have to settle for a boring, one-sided conversation. Kind of funny, don’t you think? For decades every man, woman, and child walked around talking on a phone, fiddling their little fingers around on a mobile gadget doing all manner of silly things. It wasn’t long ago that you would be positively out of place if you didn’t have some sort of do-hickey in your hand. Oh, how the tables have turned! If you pulled that phone out of your pocket right this second, I bet people around you would start screaming and running from you like you were an alien with a ray gun. Anyway, I’ve gotten quite far from the topic at hand, haven’t I? You’re still with me aren’t you, Mr. McGee? Give me a little cough so we can get this party started.”
Lance cleared his throat angrily
“Excellent! That little phone in your pocket is telling me you’re about twenty yards from the front gate. I just wanted to chat with you in case you were having some crazy thoughts about backing out on me and doing something foolish like trying to get help. It occurred to me a few minutes ago that you might think I won’t keep my end of the bargain, that no matter what you do your family will die either way, so why cooperate? That sound about right? Go on now; give us another one of your angry coughs.”
Lance’s face was awash in tears as he obeyed.
“Fantastic! I have your lovely wife here ready to talk to you one last time. Don’t you worry now; she knows you won’t actually be doing any talking. You be extra caref
ul not to get caught up in the moment and draw attention to yourself. Are we clear?”
This time Lance could only manage a sob, his signal of recognition tangled in his throat.
“Okay now, here she is. And Lance? Remember, your family’s lives are riding on your performance.”
Lance closed his eyes and concentrated as hard as he could to control himself.
A few seconds later, his wife’s sweet voice filled his ear. Lance was so proud that Sheila sounded completely calm.
“Lance, my darling, me and the kids are okay. They actually brought us back home! I’m sitting in the living room, and the kids are in their beds. You just have to do what they want and they’ll leave. I really, really think they’re gonna go. Please darling, be brave for me and think of the children. We’ll be safe, I promise. I love you so...”
“Mr. McGee, wasn’t that just lovely? Your wife is an exceptional woman indeed. Now then, I trust you have the proper motivation to proceed? No need to respond, Mr. McGee. I know you and I are on the same page. Oh my! Looking at my little screen here I see that you’re almost at the front gate! How positively exciting! I’m going to stay on the line all the way to the end to ensure that we won’t need to pursue certain ... liberties with your dear wife. And one last thing, Mr. McGee. I really do hate to even bring this up, such nasty business, but my two associates are very fond of your lovely daughter. You must be so proud that she made varsity cheerleader before the country just went to pot. She has been entertaining us with some very enthusiastic cheer routines. She wasn’t really into it at first, I’m afraid to say, but after I asked her if she’d rather my associates, uh... occupy their time with her little brother, she just beamed a big smile with every cheer! A real treat indeed! Anyway, you just make sure you hold up your end of the deal, and you have my solemn word that my associates will focus their attention elsewhere. Mr. McGee, it has been a real pleasure working with you. I thank you kindly for your time. Good luck to you, sir. I know you’ll do what needs to be done.”
Lance felt a strange sense of relief wash over him. The hell he had endured for the previous four days was finally ending. In a few short minutes, he would leave this world for a much better one. He would be reunited with his father and his younger brother.
Just past the front gate was a large gymnasium that had been repurposed as an orientation center. Lance watched as a Middle Eastern family was taken at gunpoint from the front of the line to a holding area. He looked into the holding pen and saw naked men and women shivering in the cold while their clothes and belongings were searched. Dignity had been replaced by stark racism, and Lance couldn’t help but feel a sick sense of irony at his current predicament. He stepped into the doorway and turned around. Lifting his arms, Lance squeezed both fists, launching two projectiles from the tube rockets strapped to his forearms. Not concerned with their trajectories, Lance pushed his way to the center of the gymnasium and ripped open his coat, detonating the forty pound vest that hugged his torso.
The two guided projectiles found their targets. The first missile burst through a window on the top floor of the headquarters building and detonated, killing Brigadier General Matthew Jacobs, commanding general of Fort McClellan, along with most of his senior staff. The second rocket smashed into the front lobby of the base hospital, bringing the second floor crashing down into the first, killing hundreds of innocent patients.
When Lance’s vest detonated, a high powered explosive many times more potent than C-4, vaporized his body along with every living thing inside the gymnasium. The structure that had once promised frightened, weary refugees the possibility of a new life came crashing down. Since most of the deceased had not yet been processed into the system, no one would ever know that three hundred nineteen innocent people had just been murdered.
The polite man on the other end of the phone told his two associates that he was going out to the car for a quick smoke. He walked to the end of the driveway and opened the driver’s-side door. With great anticipation, he lit his cigarette, took a long, satisfying drag and slowly exhaled. Once the nicotine rush hit him, he reached into his coat pocket and produced a small device. Carefully typing in the requisite five digits, the man hit the enter key and watched, smiling, as the McGee residence erupted in an explosion that rocked the neighborhood. Car alarms wailed, dogs barked. The polite man always tied up loose ends, and he certainly wasn’t looking to take the blame when The Silent Warriors would be more than happy to take credit for his actions.
CHAPTER FIVE
“Are you sure it’s time to make such a bold move, Richard?” Howard Beck knew the day was coming, but he never envisioned it would be so soon.
“We have a lot of preparation to deal with before we’re ready to move forward, but it’s time to set things in motion. What do you think, Max?”
“I’m nice and comfy with things the way they are, but we have to move at some point and it might as well be now. My only concern is maintaining the resources we have to secure our own borders.”
“You don’t think Hal can manage it?” asked Howard.
“I have no doubt that Hal can keep the drones busy, but can he repel thousands of troops if they move on our borders? Even worse, what if Sterling decides to wipe us off the map with nukes? What does Stacy think?”
Howard was quick to answer. “Our top spy tells us that Sterling wants the nation intact. He’s confident that once he fully restores power to The Pulse Zone and squashes The Silent Warriors, he’ll have little trouble conquering our quaint little nation, as he calls it.”
“All the more reason for us to strike a serious blow to that smug asshole while he’s weak,” said Richard.
Howard agreed.
“How in the hell does he think he’s going to stop The Silent Warriors? Terrorists don’t exactly walk around in uniform and engage the enemy in direct combat,” said Max.
“Stacy isn’t sure exactly what his plan is, but she did say he seems quite confident that he can pull it off,” said Howard.
“Hal, how many attacks have occurred outside The Pulse Zone?” Richard knew his plan would prove difficult if they had to reallocate manpower to deal with terrorist attacks.
“Only minor incidents, sir. From the intelligence I have gathered, The Silent Warriors have attacked two hospitals—one in Nevada and the other in California. Both attacks were quickly repelled with only minor damage. Several fires spread across California have managed to destroy seven residential areas; however, the possibility remains that The Silent Warriors were not responsible for four of the fires.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way,” said Howard.
“Or they’re kind enough to stay out of the PSA,” Richard said.
Max tapped Richard’s chair with his cane. “Okay, Richard, the suspense is killing me. How the hell are we going to invade California with the UAE wiping out anything that crosses into the no-man’s land around our borders?”
“Hal and I have been monitoring every engagement in the no-man’s land since the UAE instituted the hundred mile zone around the length of our borders. The UAE only makes a move if any of their civilians try to cross over into our territory.”
Howard shook his head. “Wait a minute. Just because they’re stopping everything going into the PSA doesn’t mean they won’t attack what comes out of the PSA. We don’t exactly have an abundance of stealth jets like the one you fly around in.”
“I realize that, Howard. The one thing they aren’t monitoring is the Pacific. The bulk of their navy is in the Atlantic defending our borders from the invasion Iran is no doubt planning once they’ve finished conquering Europe. The safe bet is that Iran will come onto our shores on the Atlantic side and spill into The Pulse Zone where resistance will be the weakest. Their navy is twice the strength of ours; it will only be a matter of time before they break the line and make it to our shores.”
Max cracked a smile for the first time since the conversation began. “You want to invade California by sea? You reali
ze we don’t exactly have an impressive armada?”
“I want boots on the ground, that’s all. It’ll be a short trip. Their radar station and drone base in California is located in Redding. The radar coverage extends a hundred miles into the Pacific, and they haven’t set up any blockades.”
Howard interrupted. “Jimenez has managed to keep trade routes open, but pretty soon he won’t be able to export anything for trade. China has already been kind enough to send humanitarian aid, which doesn’t really say a lot about their confidence in us.”
“How the mighty have fallen,” said Max. “The arrogant nation begging for handouts.”
Richard let the sting of the pointed remark hang in the air a few seconds longer and continued. “The biggest advantage we have going for us is that Hal has managed to disrupt the UAE’s satellite coverage of the North American continent. They can put radar planes in the air, but that’s about it. Sterling deliberately keeps his planes from getting too close to the PSA for fear of sparking a war. We can load up our troops on cruise ships without them having a clue.”
“Why not just send a stealth jet and take out the base in Redding?” Max asked. “We could send our troops pouring in by land.”
“That was my first plan but I’d rather catch them off guard. We send three cruise ships down the coast and set up a three-pronged attack. Before Jimenez even realizes what’s happening, we’d be hitting them hard from north, south, and center.”
“Do we have the manpower to pull it off?” Howard was starting to like this idea.
“I’m confident that we do. Eight months ago I thought about instituting a draft of all eighteen- to twenty-four- year-olds, but it wasn’t necessary. Once I announced the call to military service, men and women of all ages stepped up to the plate. We actually had to turn away people who didn’t qualify medically. Most of them insisted on doing something to help, so we put them to work behind a desk.”
“How many made it through basic training? What’s our total fighting force?” asked Max.
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