Dammit, Max. Why can’t you catch a break? “What’s the status on the third cruise ship?”
“Sir, the majority of the crew is on lifeboats. The submarine has intercepted the third ship and has opened fire.”
“This is a nightmare. We should be doing something.”
“Sir, my drones are doing a great deal to help.”
“What about our stealth jets? Are we within range? How many can they hold?”
“Two of the jets are down for maintenance. The other ten can make it there in fourteen minutes. Each can hold twelve.”
“Launch them immediately. Evacuate as many as you can; don’t waste a second.”
“Yes, sir. They will have to land in California.”
“That’s fine. Make it happen.”
“Yes, sir. The stealth jets are already in the air.”
“I doubt we’ll get that lucky, but if the sub is still in the water, sink the fucker to the bottom of the Pacific.”
“I will endeavor to do so, sir.”
***
“Weapons, status report.”
“Captain, all three vessels are damaged beyond repair and will sink.”
“I must say I’ve never seen cruise ships used to transport a military force.”
The XO, proud of his knowledge of history, interjected. “Captain, the Americans used cruise ships to transport troops to the European theater during World War II.”
“Is that so? Fascinating. Well, they won’t be doing so this time around. The UAE will regret trying to double-cross the Chinese. Governor Butler will pay for this betrayal. Our invasion force will see to that.”
***
“Max, honey, wake up.” Elizabeth Harris planted kisses on her husband’s clammy forehead.
“Ma’am, if I may? I’m a medic.”
“What are you waiting for? Yes, please.”
The lifeboat was at capacity. The medic stood up and made his way over to Elizabeth. He placed his palm on Max’s chest, and checked the pulse on his neck. Fifteen seconds passed before he spoke.
“Given his condition, he’s fine for the time being. His pulse is weak, but steady; so is his breathing. He just passed out from the shock.”
“Sir, I concur.”
“What the hell is that?” The medic pointed at the briefcase-sized contraption, its red fish-eye ablaze, hovering off the starboard bow.
Elizabeth smile. “You’ve never met Hal?”
“Hal? Beck’s A.I.? I thought he was in Beck Castle.”
Elizabeth gazed fondly at the robot hovering nearby. “Honestly, I think Hal is everywhere.”
“Ma’am, I assure you I am not omnipresent.”
“Just a figure of speech, Hal.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Hal, what’s the plan? We need to get out of here.”
“I am going to deploy a drone for every lifeboat. Each drone will attach to the rear of the ship and act as a motor. I estimate that we will make it to the California coast in seventy-five minutes.”
The medic could not contain his optimism. “Your husband will be fine as long as we take him straight to a hospital when we come ashore.”
“Sir, that is the route we are taking; it will place us at the closest possible distance to a hospital. I have triaged all the injured and will take them directly to the hospital.”
“He’s amazing.” The medic grinned at Elizabeth.
“Yes! Yes, he is.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
President Simon Sterling was in a bullet-proof limousine trying desperately to get out of Florida. His plan was to drive to Fort McClellan, Alabama, and take a jet back to Howard Beck’s former mansion outside of Denver.
His lead security agent was in the backseat. “Mr. President, we have a secure location at which to stage you until McClellan can get reinforcements to us. We travel too far north and your safety will be in jeopardy. I want us off the road ASAP.”
“Where? Wait, is McClellan in any kind of shape since the attack?”
“It will take longer than I like, but McClellan can have reinforcements here. We just have to be patient. We’ll be waiting at Benjamin Black’s compound at Walt Disney World. He’s an ally of the UAE. We have a small contingent of soldiers there that will secure the site until reinforcements can come for us.”
“Thank you, Mr. Watts. You’ve done your job well. How long until we get to this...what was his name?”
“Benjamin Black.”
“Yes, how long until we get to Mr. Black’s compound?”
“Barring any unforeseen circumstances, we will be there in under two hours.”
“Thank you. I’m sure Stacy will be comfortable in the trunk.”
***
Jessica Bradley had the luxury of driving a Mustang at break-neck speed across the Florida wasteland. She also didn’t have the burden of a convoy. She beat the president back to WDW by a full hour. She had already briefed Benjamin, and they’d formulated a plan on how to proceed.
Twenty-four UAE soldiers were stationed in the parking lot of Walt Disney World awaiting the president’s arrival. Minutes after Ben and Jessica decided to roll out the red carpet for President Simon Sterling, twelve very attractive, flirtatious young females were sent out to distract the soldiers. While they were preoccupied, Ben’s people shot or stabbed all of them to death. With the soldiers dispatched, their uniforms were stripped off and their bodies hidden from view. Within thirty minutes of the president’s arrival, all the soldiers had been replaced by Ben’s people.
***
“Mr. President, we will be arriving shortly. Our people are all in place, and Mr. Black will be there to meet you personally.”
“Excellent, Mr.Watts. I look forward to meeting a true patriot.”
***
When Benjamin Black set up the community at Walt Disney World, the very first priority was external security. They had to be able to defend their walls from outside aggressors. The parking lot leading to the front gate was barricaded with an intricate maze of obstacles and roadblocks. Anyone attempting to gain access to the park had to navigate three armed checkpoints before they could even approach the main gate, which had two armed guards of its own, including one in a thirty-foot-high tower constructed by Ben’s people. Any vehicle not cleared for entry at the first checkpoint was held up while the guards radioed their counterparts at the other two checkpoints and the main gate. In the past, raiders had attempted to storm the Black compound to pillage what Ben’s people had fought so valiantly to procure. No one had ever breached the complex. An alarm would be sounded at the first checkpoint and a standby platoon residing just inside the front gate deployed to deter the threat.
Standard protocol was to allow the UAE to proceed unmolested all the way to the front gate. When President Sterling’s motorcade approached, the same protocol was observed. As the armored limousine and its three support SUVs raced past the first checkpoint, the guard at the front gate radioed ahead to announce their arrival.
“Okay, listen up, people. We have about three minutes before they get here. No one in uniform is to approach the president’s security detail. Avoid making eye contact with them. If they want to speak to a soldier, Hayden Smith is the one to approach since we put him in Captain Brown’s uniform. Hayden was an officer in the Air Force, so he can pull it off. I will separate the president from his detail as quickly as possible. When I shoot his lead security agent, that will be the signal to open fire on the rest of the detail. Is everyone clear?”
A sea of heads bobbed in unison.
“Good. Let’s not screw this up. We’ve got a lot riding on this, and we have precious little time before reinforcements get here from Fort McClellan.”
A minute later, the president’s motorcade approached the front gate and screeched to a halt. A smart-looking man scanned the crowd before him as he quickly approached Ben.
“Mr. Black?”
“Yes, I’m Benjamin Black.”
“Okay, bring out the S
uit.” The president’s call sign reflected his predilection for fine clothing. Simon thought it a fitting title and didn’t object.
The passengers disembarked from the SUVs and surrounded the president’s door. Out came the president of the Unified American Empire. Benjamin was shocked to discover how short the man was; he couldn’t have been more than five-foot four. Ben was also surprised to see the president wearing a mismatched military uniform.
“Mr. Black, it’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for playing host during this desperate hour. I hope you will forgive my attire; my security detail chose to toss me in a church baptistery to protect me from the blast. My favorite suit was ruined and, well, here we are. This monstrosity is an embarrassment,” he said, in obvious distress over his highly unsuitable dress.
“I understand, Mr. President. We’re honored to have you in our humble community.”
“You are modest, Mr. Black. What you’ve done here is remarkable.”
“Please, Mr. President, call me Ben.”
“Ben it is. Are you in charge of security for this community, or should my lead agent make arrangements with one of your subordinates?”
Ben motioned for Jessica Bradley to step forward. “Mr. President, this is my second-in-command, Jessica Bradley. She will see to any security concerns your team may have.”
“Miss Bradley, it’s a pleasure to meet you. This is Agent Watts. He’ll have some security details to discuss with you.”
Ben and Jessica exchanged a subtle glance; the plan had just changed. Jessica would have to kill the lead agent. This worked out perfectly. Ben could grab the president and throw him to the ground to ensure he wasn’t killed during the crossfire.
As Ben led the president toward the front gate, Jessica and the lead agent headed in the opposite direction. Jessica shook Agent Watts’ hand, preventing him from drawing his weapon. With a pistol on both hips, Jessica quickly drew with her left hand and shot Agent Watts in the nose, his brains exploding out the back of his head. She bear-hugged the corpse and dropped to her knee, using the body for protection as she began to fire at the other agents. To her delight, she only had to kill one agent before the “soldiers” opened fire and gunned down the entire security detail.
Benjamin Black helped the awe struck tyrant to his feet. “Mr. President, you are now a prisoner of the Pacific States of America.”
“You’ll never make it out of here alive. My people are coming from McClellan and will squash you like a bug. You’ll hang for this. I’ll put the noose around your neck myself.”
Ben ignored his prisoner. “Hayden, contact Colonel Sanderson. He’s still with the 519th out of Fort Polk, isn’t he?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Howard Beck was terrified. The fact that a Chinese submarine had sunk the three cruise ships on their way to California had farther reaching implications than the deaths of so many brave men and women ready to fight for the liberation of America. Howard knew this submarine was not a lone wolf preying in the waters off the coast of the former United States. Something much more nefarious was going on, and he was determined to figure it out.
Why did they attack our cruise ships?
Are the Chinese so vicious they would sink what appeared to be pleasure ships filled with innocent civilians?
No, they must have figured out they were transport ships with troops and military equipment onboard.
Why sink the ships? Their course clearly dictated they were headed to our own shores and not westward.
Then it hit Howard. They thought we were the UAE!
Why attack the UAE? It doesn’t make sense to go to war with a nuclear power.
Howard was struck by another frightening realization: Sterling struck a deal with the Chinese to protect us from Iran, and they thought the cruise ships were evidence of a double-cross.
“Old Man, this is a nightmare.”
“What is a nightmare, sir?”
“The Chinese. You realize what happened, don’t you?”
“Other than the attack? No, sir, I do not.”
Howard explained his line of thinking to Hal.
“An intuitive analysis, sir.”
“Analyze all the data your sister A.I. brought back from the White House. Anything that mentions the Chinese or allies?”
“Neither word was ever uttered by Sterling or anyone in your residence.”
“Expand your search out to the regional governors.”
“Jackson Butler sent encrypted messages to China.”
“That son of a bitch! Any chance of reading them?”
“I’m afraid not, sir. The Chinese have become quite adept at software encryption. It would take me weeks to decipher the messages.”
“Damn. It has to be Butler. If Sterling actually believed in a two-party system, he’d campaign on the isolationist platform. His world only exists inside our borders. He’d nuke the living shit out of China before he’d strike a deal with them and wouldn’t give a damn if they nuked us in return.”
“I agree, sir.”
“I think we know who bombed the church. Jackson Butler is still alive, and we have to find him.”
***
Jackson Butler and the man he knew as Charles were sitting in another vacant restaurant outside of what was left of Orlando.
“Charles, are you sure?”
“I am. They had to stop at the amusement park, or whatever you call it. The journey to Fort McClellan is too perilous, with much of the surrounding area in chaos. The only tactical decision that makes sense would be to stop at the most secure UAE haven between Miami and Alabama. Why didn’t they just go back to the airport and fly out?”
“They had no way of knowing whether the culprits had targeted the airport as well as the church, so they had no choice but to flee Miami by car.”
“I often forget your prior military service, sir.”
“So do I.”
“Now that you know Sterling’s location, how do you want to proceed?”
“It’s simple, really. I show up frazzled and afraid, having suffered a long, arduous journey across Florida to find him. He’ll welcome me with open arms. I might even cry.”
“I’m touched.”
“Where do we stand on Beck Castle?”
“The Chinese are ready to take control of the artificial intelligence in the Castle.” Charles’ phone rang. “Terribly sorry for the interruption. May I?”
“Of course.”
Charles tapped his headset and listened in silence. Thirty seconds later, he ended the call. “A rather fortuitous turn of events has put us ahead of schedule. It seems President Sterling has been captured by some…what is it you call them? Hillbillies? Anyway, it seems your president is in the hands of a man named Benjamin Black. They have him inside ... you Americans, I don’t know how you keep it all straight ... Walt Disney Place.”
“Walt Disney World.”
“Yes, they have him inside Walt Disney World, and within the next hour they’re going to attempt to move him to a military installation in Louisiana.”
“Fort Polk? It’s controlled by the UAE. Why capture him and then take him back to the UAE?”
“Apparently, a colonel there by the name of Sanderson is a PSA sympathizer and has agreed to transport the president to Beck Castle and hand him over to the PSA.”
“Why is this a good thing for us? Sounds like a nightmare. Sterling will order troops out of McClellan to pick him up; they’ll all be slaughtered.”
“Jackson, we’ll just have to figure out a way to stop them. You’ll endear yourself to the president even more by attempting to rescue him from the tan-necks.”
“The what?”
Charles was becoming increasingly frustrated by his lack of understanding of American colloquialisms. “Rednecks?”
“Yes, Charles, you’re getting the hang of it. I have some loyal men in the area who can help us with our little charade and ensure I’m along for the ride to Beck Castle.”
“Well, as
you know, I have a man inside Beck Castle. Contacting him is rather difficult, and getting something to him is next to impossible.” Charles pulled out a small piece of plastic no larger than a fingernail. “We make a small incision in your left pectoral and plant this just under your skin. The device gives off the electrical signature of a pacemaker and will fool any scans they might perform on you.”
“They? Where am I going? What is that thing really?”
“Sir, you are going to show up at Walt Disney World looking for your beloved president. They will be more than happy to take you, as a prisoner, to Beck Castle. Once you’re there, my man on the inside will find you and remove the device. It is simply a ten terabyte storage device. Contained on it are the programs necessary to gain control of the artificial intelligence. Our Chinese friends wish to neutralize the PSA.”
***
Colonel William Sanderson, commanding officer of the 519th Military Police Battalion and the provost marshal for Fort Polk, awoke early. He looked upon the beautiful face of his wife, Lindsay, knowing she’d sleep for at least another two hours. He walked down the hall to check on his children, Brent and Heather. Like his wife, they were also sound asleep. William’s mind wandered back to the days when his family was homeless and living in the Central Park Obama Camp. If anyone could write a best-selling rags-to-riches novel, it was William. He knew it would be many years before his children would begin to realize how destitute and downtrodden their family had been. He and his wife never once complained around their children. He had convinced his innocent children that they were simply on an extended camping trip rather than homeless.
William was grateful for his job and his home, but was not proud of the path his career had taken. One of the primary jobs of the 519th was to detain potential terrorists so they could be transported to “interrogation camps.” William was no fool. He knew the people passing through his detention center were on their way to be tortured and, in all likelihood, executed. After his protests fell on deaf or fearful ears, he decided he could no longer look at himself in the mirror unless he was fighting to restore democracy and freedom. William was a spy for the Pacific States of America. At first, he’d tried to defect to the PSA with his family, but a man named Maxwell Harris had persuaded him to remain where he was in order to supply vital information about the atrocities being committed by the UAE. William decided the arrangement was an honorable one.
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