Bug Out! Texas Book 7: Flood of Patriots

by Robert Boren

  “You had to,” Ramsey protested.

  “That doesn’t matter,” Nelson said. “It’s part of the job.”

  “So, who are we gonna run?” Gallagher asked.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Nelson said. “It’s more than a year off.”

  “We should start grooming somebody in the organization,” Ramsey said.

  “Absolutely not,” Nelson said. “I don’t want my successor to be an insider in this administration. Frankly, I’d prefer it to be one of the opposition.”

  “You’re really that worried about appearances here?” Gallagher asked.

  “You’d better believe it,” Nelson said. “I’m following the reasoning of one of my heroes.”

  “Who?” Ramsey asked.

  “I know who,” Gallagher said. “George Washington.”

  “You’ve got it,” Nelson said. “People begged him to stay in office a third term. Some wanted him in that job for life. He knew better. It was exactly the right decision. I’m in the same situation. How could I do differently?”

  Gallagher chuckled. “Of course, you could run for President.”

  Nelson laughed hard. “Not another word about that. I mean it. We don’t need an idea like that getting out.”

  “But really, boss, you should…” Ramsey said, cut off by Nelson.

  “I said not another word, and I’m deadly serious,” Nelson said. “Hell, I don’t even desire that job. No way, no how.”

  “Well, you’d be my first choice, Governor,” Gallagher said. “Now I’ll shut up.”

  “Anything on the group in Amarillo?”

  “We’ve been the same place you have,” Ramsey said.

  “Haven’t you checked your messages?”

  “On the way down the hall,” Ramsey said. “They’re getting ready to leave, after I warned them earlier. I’m worried sick. What if the enemy uses the gas again? That might start a panic.”

  “We need to make sure Wallis is on top of this with air power,” Nelson said. “Hey, Brian, get Wallis on the line, okay?”

  “Okay, Sir,” Brian shouted from outside the door.

  “Sir?” Nelson asked.

  “After that performance, it seems like I need to provide more respect,” he said.

  “Shit, he’s crying out there,” Ramsey whispered.

  “He heard what we were saying in here,” Gallagher whispered. “Almost teared up myself.”

  “He’s on,” Brian said.

  Nelson pushed the button. “Hey, Wallis.”

  “Hi, Governor,” Wallis said. “Beautiful job with that presser.”

  “Thanks. You got planes in the air for the team in Amarillo?”

  “Sure do,” he said. “The enemy force has expanded, but they don’t have any added capability that I can see in the photos. Just troop transport trucks. No mobile artillery. They probably have mortars in the trucks, but our people have those too.”

  “How much has the enemy force expanded?” Gallagher asked.

  “Another third or so, from what we can tell, but they’re still much smaller than our forces. We’ll be pounding them from the air, too, right down the road.”

  “Why haven’t you started that already?” Nelson asked.

  “We want to draw as many of them out of New Mexico as we can, and we want our forces to the west of them so they can’t retreat back over the border. That will insure we don’t have to fight the remnant of them again when we head towards Santa Fe.”

  “We need to coordinate with the Amarillo forces, then,” Ramsey said. “I told them to get moving before the press conference.”

  “Good,” Wallis said. “Want me to work through you?”

  “Sure, but I’ll give you some contact numbers just in case,” Ramsey said.

  “In case of what?” Nelson asked.

  “In case of just about anything,” Ramsey said. “What if somebody blows the cell towers around the Capitol?”

  “Ours are underground,” Nelson said.

  “And they talk to cell towers that aren’t,” Gallagher said. “I agree with Ramsey on this. We ought to have contingency plans for Wallis’s end too, just in case the Fort Worth cell system gets compromised.”

  “I’ll use the radio if that happens,” Wallis said. “You might want to monitor that.”

  “It’s not secure,” Ramsey said.

  “We’d only want to use it for backup,” Wallis said. “Wonder if there’ll be any physical reaction from the press conference?”

  “It’s possible, but I doubt it,” Gallagher said.

  “Me too,” Nelson said. “I think the Feds have their hands full.”

  “I hope so,” Ramsey said.

  “Okay, let’s get back to work, gentlemen,” Nelson said, as Wallis ended his call and the men left the Governor’s Office.

  Chapter 14 – Midpoint 66

  Junior and Rachel were in their two-seat off-roader, hitched to Kelly’s pickup truck. They blasted down westbound I-40, in the middle of a huge caravan.

  “I can’t believe how many people we have,” Rachel said, wind blowing her hair.

  “Yep, we’ve got a formidable force, that’s for damn sure,” Junior said. “Hope we beat the enemy to Vega.”

  “Which way we going on highway 385? North or south?”

  “Everybody in an off-roader or towing an off-roader goes south,” Junior said. “Makes sense to me. The town is to the north, open farm land to the south. We’ll be able to run this sucker on that farm land at top speed.”

  “We just let them go past at first, though, right?” Rachel asked.

  “Yep,” Junior said. “We wait until the Air National Guard cuts them down to size some. When they flee back here, we take them out.”

  “Can’t tell which way the wind is blowing. Hope we’re safe from that nerve gas. I don’t want to die that way.”

  “Seriously,” Junior said. “I’d rather be shot.”

  “Look, way up at the front of the line,” Rachel said, craning her neck. “The first of the group is turning. I can see the ones going north.”

  “I see some going south,” Junior said. “Wonder if the enemy is gonna see us?”

  “And if they’ll stop to engage us instead of going forward,” Rachel said.

  “I think they’ll probably shit their pants if they see us,” Junior said. “We’ve got more people than they do, and we’ve got better vehicles to fight with, too. Those trucks are gonna be sitting ducks for us and for the aircraft.”

  “They know about our capabilities now, though, don’t they?”

  “Depends on how many survived and snuck away from that big battle north of Fort Stockton,” Junior said. “We’re gonna be off the interstate pretty soon.”

  Kelly’s truck slowed as he took the off ramp, turning left on 385 and cruising under the freeway into the farmland beyond.

  “This is as flat as a pancake,” Junior said.

  “Think they’ll see us?”

  “Depends on how far down we go,” Junior said. “I suspect it’ll be a ways. We might not be able to see them go by.”

  “Yes we will, I brought the binoculars,” Rachel said. “Might have to climb into one of the truck beds.”

  “Good,” Junior said. “We’re going pretty far. Who ended up in the lead on this side?”

  “I couldn’t tell,” Rachel said. “I think Eric was pretty close to the front, in that Bronco of his with Kim.”

  They drove along for nearly another mile and then Kelly drove onto a big flat field on the left-hand side, following the other vehicles who were lining up. After Kelly stopped, Junior and Rachel got out of the off roader and un-hitched it from the truck. Kelly and Brenda joined them.

  “Can’t see the road very well from here,” Brenda said.

  “That means they can’t see us,” Junior said.

  “Yeah, that’s what I’m thinking,” Kelly said. “Brought my binoculars.”

  “So did Rachel,” Junior said.

  “Here comes Ja
son, Kyle, and Eric.”

  “Good, Kim and Kate are with them,” Rachel said.

  “Who’s riding with Jason?” Kelly asked.

  “Probably Francis again, like last time,” Rachel said.

  “Hey, guys,” Jason said. “Just heard from Ramsey. They ought to be going by here in the next fifteen minutes. We have the drones in the air. Great pictures.”

  “How about planes that can attack their convoy?” Kelly asked.

  “They’re around,” Jason said. “The tanks are on the highway now. They’ll prevent the enemy trucks from getting further to the east on I-40.”

  “We’ve got people stopped all along the road,” Kyle said. “The kill zone is surrounded on both sides.”

  “Hope none of our folks get hit by the airstrikes,” Francis said.

  “They’re far enough back,” Eric said.

  “Where’s the trigger point?” Kelly asked. “For the airstrikes, that is.”

  “Wildorado,” Jason said.

  “Shit, that’s only thirteen miles from here,” Junior said. “Their convoy is liable to be longer than that. How we gonna keep a large number of them from turning tail and heading back to New Mexico when the shooting starts?”

  “Dirk, Chance, Cindy, and a bunch of the bikers are gonna fix that,” Francis said. “They left before the rest of us.”

  “What are they gonna do?” Junior asked.

  “You know the bridge at Midpoint 66?” Francis asked.

  Kelly and Junior looked at each other and laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” Brenda asked.

  “They’re gonna wait until the enemy trucks are past that bridge, and then they’re gonna blow it,” Kelly said. “It’ll come right down on I-40 and block it. They’ll be trapped like rats.”

  “We got quite a few of the citizen fighters going further west, too,” Jason said. “To take care of the cretins to the west of Vega who try to escape or fight their way out. They’ve been using the farm roads to the north and the south of I-40.”

  “This is a giant trap,” Rachel said.

  “You got it,” Eric said. “Don and Sydney’s team are working with the people who live along the route, too. We’ll get even more help. There are side streets to monitor all over the place. Last time I talked to Don, they were getting a lot of commitments from the folks.”

  “Where’s Curt?” Kelly asked.

  Jason grinned. “Between Vega and Wildorado, with Amanda, Brushy, Jake, Moe, Clancy, and several thousand other people. They’ll be taking out troop trucks that survive the airstrikes and make a run for it on the farm roads. Of course the tanks will take care of those who try to continue east on I-40.”

  “Geez,” Rachel said.

  “Look!” said Junior, pointing at the long line of camo-green troop transport trucks to the east. “Here they come.”

  “Holy shit, you can’t see the end of them,” Rachel said. She got into the back of Kelly’s truck and looked through the binoculars. “Wow. Hope we have enough people.”

  “Wonder where the hell they got all of those troop transport trucks?” Francis asked.

  “Ramsey said that General Hogan mentioned them,” Jason said. “They’ve been using them a lot in Arizona, Utah, and Colorado. Nobody knows where they’re getting them.”

  “We outnumber them almost two to one, if we can believe the intel,” Eric said.

  Kelly jumped up and looked through his binoculars too, as the others watched the eastbound I-40 nervously.

  “First one is almost to our off-ramp,” Rachel said.

  “Maybe we’d better get back in our vehicles,” Eric said.

  “We’ve got at least ten minutes,” Jason said. “Hell, we just barely got the last of our convoy off I-40 before they showed up. That was close.”

  Rachel focused on Highway 385. “My God, we’ve got a lot of people on this side of the interstate.”

  “Got even more on the other side,” Jason said. He hit Ramsey’s contact and put it to his ear.

  “He’s calling it in,” Junior said, eyes still glued to the endless convoy of troop trucks rolling east.

  ***

  Dirk, Chance, and Cindy sat next to the window in the Café at Midpoint 66, another fifteen members of Gray’s biker group at other tables by the windows.

  “We barely got those charges set in time,” Dirk whispered. “Made me nervous as hell.”

  “There’s so many trucks,” Cindy whispered.

  “More coffee?” asked the waitress, a matronly woman of forty-six, wearing a nametag that said Kitten, her gray-streaked light-brown hair in a bun above her pretty face.

  “Don’t mind if I do, Kitten,” Chance said, sliding the thick white coffee cup towards her.

  “No thanks,” Cindy said.

  “I’ll pass too,” Dirk said.

  “You folks seem awful interested in that road,” Kitten said. “Waiting for somebody?”

  “Nah, just wondering what’s up with all the army trucks,” Chance said.

  “Army trucks?” Kitten asked, a worried look splashing across her face.

  “Yeah,” Dirk said, shooting a glare at Chance. “Probably National Guard.”

  “Hope so,” Kitten said. “Troop movements make me nervous.”

  She walked away after filling Chance’s cup.

  “If you got to chat up the waitress, try to be a little more careful about it,” Dirk whispered.

  “Sorry,” Chance said.

  “It won’t matter,” Cindy said. “Think we have enough folks stashed behind the High School?”

  Chance snickered. “They wouldn’t all fit behind the school. We’ve got them spread all over the little town. As soon as we blow the bridge, they’ll saddle up.”

  “Wish our vehicles were closer,” Dirk said. “There’s liable to be quite a bit of gunfire before we can get to them.”

  “That’s the only downside to these guns being mounted,” Chance whispered. “Hard to hide what they are in plain sight. Remember, though, all we got to do is keep them on the road until the full force gets in range. We can handle it with the grenade launchers no problem.”

  “There’s always unknown complications,” Dirk said. “Don’t get over-confident.”

  “You guys trying to scare me on purpose?” Cindy asked. “We’re gonna kill these creeps wholesale. Quit with the negative stuff.”

  “They keep on coming,” Dirk said.

  “What happens if they don’t all get over the bridge before the shooting starts in Wildorado?” Chance asked. “What if their caravan is just too damn long?”

  “It’s thirty miles between here and there,” Dirk said. “That’s got to be enough.”

  “Everybody, my boss says we have to close,” Kitten said. “You’ll all have to leave.”

  “Why, what’s going on?” Cindy asked.

  “He’s nervous about that troop convoy. He’s sending everybody home now. Please take off. You don’t have to pay for the food.”

  “Shit,” Dirk said under his breath. He leaned over to the guys at the next table. “Filter out slowly so we don’t have a flood of people visible from the road. Pass it on.”

  The biker nodded and told the rest of the table, and several got up and spread the word.

  “Hurry,” Kitten said.

  “We aren’t going to flood out of here in front of those troop transports,” Dirk said.

  A big bald man came out of the back with a shotgun. “She said hurry.” His stomach was overflowing his belt, chef hat still on his head. Suddenly the man was looking down the barrels of thirty handguns. “Shit, what is this?”

  “You know the Fort Stockton group?” Dirk asked.

  “Dammit, those aren’t National Guard troops,” Kitten said. “That’s the enemy. Oh God.”

  “Everybody stay calm,” Dirk said. “We don’t want to shoot any citizens. Lower your weapons, guys.”

  “Sorry,” the chef said as he lowered the shotgun. “I didn’t know who you were. My name’s Al
ex. I’m on your side. I think it’s great what you did.”

  “Thanks,” Dirk said. “It’s probably safer for your people to stay here in the restaurant. Things are gonna get crazy outside. Trust me.”

  “What’s going to happen?” Alex asked, walking over to their table.

  “As soon as the last of those trucks is past the bridge there, I’m gonna blow it,” Chance said.

  “What?” Kitty asked. “We use that bridge.”

  “Don’t worry,” Dirk said. “Governor Nelson approved it, and they’ll fix it up again soon enough.”

  “Oh, you’re going to bottle that up and take these guys on,” Alex said, smile washing over his face. “How many folks you got?”

  “Here, about twelve hundred,” Dirk said, “but all up and down the road into Wildorado, we’ve got about twenty thousand. We’re gonna wipe these bastards out.”

  “Hey, guys,” Cindy said, looking out the window. “Trucks thinned out real good. We’d better get ready.”

  “How you gonna blow her?” Alex asked.

  “Cellphone,” Dirk said.

  “Want to go on the roof and take a gander?” he asked. “We can access it from the back.”

  “That’s a damn good idea,” Dirk said. “Thanks.”

  “Follow me,” Alex said. They rushed through the kitchen to the back storage room. “There’s no lock on the trap door. You’d better go first. I’m fat and slow.”

  Dirk nodded and rushed up the staircase, Chance and Cindy following him as he pushed the trap door aside. He got up on the roof and looked at the road. Chance and Cindy joined him.

  “Just stragglers,” Cindy said, pulling her binoculars out. “Think we’ll be able to see the airstrikes start up?”

  “Should be able to,” Chance said.

  “Whoa, look there,” Cindy said. “Jet fighters coming in. You can just barely see them.” She looked through her binoculars. “Hard to see with binos. They’re moving too fast.”

  “Look, there’s more!” Chance said. “Coming in from the north. They’re faster.”

  “Why no bombing yet?” Dirk asked.

  “Shit! One of the fast ones just shot down one of the slow ones,” Cindy yelled.

  “Blow the bridge, Dirk,” Chance said.

  “Just a sec,” he said. “Give me those binoculars.”

  Cindy handed them over.