by Kyle Pratt
The man smiled, “I’m thinking they will come in handy in the days ahead.”
“I think you’re right,” he replied and walked on. Past that on his left, a woman had chickens in a large cage. A goat was tied up beside her. A deputy stood talking with a woman at another stall. On the table between them were dozens of jars of honey and honeycomb. The deputy and Caden exchanged nods as he walked by. Farther down, he noticed a couple selling trout and other fish that he couldn’t name. The woman caught his eye, she had long, wavy, red hair.
On a nearby table were packages of dried meat. The sign hanging below read, “Deer, Elk and Beef Jerky for Trade.” At the next stall was an old man reloading and selling ammunition. The sign beside him listed calibers and read, “Will Trade for Brass.” Several guns were on display behind the counter.
“What does he mean, ‘Will Trade for Brass?’ Does he want scrap metal?”
Caden turned and smiled at Maria a step behind him. “Sort of. In this case he wants used bullet cartridges. He can reload them and make new ammo.”
Maria watched as he made one.
“Where’s Mom and Lisa?”
“Trading for food we need.”
Caden stood beside Maria and together they watched as a few more cartridges were reloaded. He hadn’t seen any paper money during his walk through the market. He noticed a few silver coins passed in trade, but the de facto currencies were guns, ammunition and food. With those anyone could barter for anything in the market.
They walked together for a minute along the stalls when suddenly Maria tapped him on the arm and pointed, “We need a car seat.”
Caden followed her gesture to a stall that looked like a yard sale. There amongst the clothes, pots, pans and toasters was a car seat. “For Adam?” Caden shook his head. “No, duct tape will do.”
Maria hit him on the arm. She took several steps closer. “She has cloth diapers. We need those too.”
“I got cloth diapers back at Fort Rucker.”
“You got four.”
“What?” he smiled. “That’s not enough?”
Exasperation spread across her face. “No!”
Caden breathed out slowly. “Okay, do we have anything left to trade for it?”
“Probably not, the eggs and milk will have been exchanged for other food by now.”
Caden recalled the pink Ruger and retrieved it from under the seat of the car. He didn’t show the pistol when asking what the woman wanted most in trade for the baby seat.
“I need food for me and my kids.”
He headed toward the booth where the old man reloaded cartridges. Caden wasn’t concerned about ammo for his SIG, he could get that at the armory, but Maria had only a few rounds for her pistol. “I need .38 ammo and whatever else you will trade for this Ruger.” He laid the pink pistol on the table. Minutes later he walked away with 100 rounds of .38 and 550 rounds of .22.
Caden gave the .38 ammo to Maria. “This is for your gun. Now come with me.”
“How is this getting us diapers and a car seat?”
“You’ll see.” Caden went back to the first stall he had visited. “Pick a puppy.”
“Why do we need a puppy?” Maria asked. “It’s another mouth to feed.”
Caden pointed to the Future Guard Dogs sign. “If we had one, Lisa might not have been attacked and that guy might not have been shot.”
After a moment she nodded. “And this gets us a car seat?”
“Well, no this doesn’t, but be patient, and pick one.”
She pointed to a cream colored pup that was crawling on top of the others as if to get attention.
Caden traded 50 rounds of .22 ammo for the little dog and wondered if he overpaid.
Maria held it in her arms. “Well how are you…” she glanced at the belly, “little girl?”
The dog licked her face.
Next he stopped at the fishmonger. He smiled at the young girl helping at the stall. It was the same red-haired teen he had seen fishing at the creek the last few days. “Are the fish fresh?” he asked with a whimsical grin.
“Oh yes,” the girl replied, “my brother and I caught them this morning before church.”
He swapped 150 rounds for two large Rainbow Trout fillets.
At another stall he exchanged 20 rounds for two cans of mixed vegetables.
When Caden laid the food on the table the woman was eager to barter.
Walking away with the seat, he assessed the trades. I got rid of the Ruger and now have a car seat and more diapers for Adam, 100 rounds of .38 ammo for Maria and I still have 330 rounds of .22 ammo. I think I did okay.
Maria, still cuddling the puppy, leaned over and kissed Caden on the cheek. “Thanks.”
The deal just got better! “You’re welcome,” he said with a smile. “I don’t want to carry this seat all over the market. Let’s head back to the car. Maybe Mom and….” Seeing a man in camo uniform, he slowed and stopped. It was Lieutenant Brooks smiling and talking with Lisa as they, along with his mother, strolled in their direction. It’s been a great day, I hope there isn’t a problem.
As they neared, Brooks saluted. “Good afternoon sir; your father said you might be here. We’ve received word that a presidential delegation has arrived in Olympia and all Guard commanders are to report there on Monday for a briefing and orders.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
The first thing Caden noticed, as his five-vehicle-convoy approached Olympia, was that the freeway had been cleared of abandoned cars. Then he noticed the traffic. There wasn’t much for what should have been the morning rush hour, but there was some. About half-a-dozen cars, all with passengers, were in the southbound lane. As he scanned the roadway, two military fuelers passed him heading north.
But, there were many broken windows, wrecks and debris still visible from the highway and despite the cool February weather, the grass was long and unkempt.
Farther along he saw the old school bus with the wild paint job race south. He grinned as the smell of french-fries reached him and he recalled the vegetable oil fuel.
He also noticed lights in some homes and businesses. Even though power was out in Hansen, it was on in Olympia. As they pulled off the freeway, he hoped Brooks would be able to get the old coal power plant back online and restore reliable electricity to their small town.
Caden’s SUV, followed by two supply trucks and a fueler, rolled toward the capitol complex. He pulled into one of the many available parking spots and the Humvee and trucks continued on to the supply depot to get what they could.
As soon as he stepped into the capitol, aides informed him that a press conference with the presidential delegation and Chinese officials was in progress.
“Was I supposed to be at it?” Caden looked at his watch. It was only minutes after eight in the morning.
The aide caught his glance. “The new Secretary of Homeland Security wanted to start early. Evidently there is a lot to be done.”
At the back, where Caden entered the room, many were standing. Slowly he moved along the wall looking for a good view. Most of the room was filled with chairs that were occupied with reporters, Guard and regular military officers and, judging by blazers and badges, FEMA, DHS and other state and federal officials.
Becky’s voice caught his attention and he looked to the platform at the far end of the room. In surprise, his heart skipped a beat. There at the lectern was Becky, his fiancée. Impulsively he stood behind a tall reporter and was immediately disappointed in himself. He would need to talk with her, and put an end to their relationship, but right then he didn’t want to exchange smiles and possibly a discreet wave of the hand. With a sigh, he stepped out from behind the reporter and turned his attention to what Becky was saying.
“…efforts of FEMA and the entire Department of Homeland Security, there are still approximately 30 million displaced citizens. Estimates of those killed range from four to six million with an equal number of injured. That is why this country has recalled its m
ilitary forces from Europe and Asia.”
As Caden listened he noticed a Chinese army general standing on the podium along with Carol Hatch. He had attended several meeting with Carol as an Under Secretary of Homeland Security, but he now assumed she was the new Secretary of DHS. He watched with growing unease as Carol and the Chinese general spoke to each other in whispers. Becky, never at a loss for words, continued to speak.
“While we believe that all the perpetrators of these terrorist attacks have been caught or killed, we are going to need long-term assistance to recover. Much of the aid has been promised by the government of China.”
When Becky paused a reporter across the room quickly spoke up. “General Lau, is it true that tens of thousands of Chinese troops are already in San Francisco and Oakland?”
The General stepped forward with a smile. “A few hundred soldiers are working in those ports to expedite food and medical distribution—not tens of thousands.”
“General, some are saying the treaty just signed by President Durant and your government formalizes repayment procedures for U.S. debt to China and that the Chinese soldiers are here as part of that treaty. Is your government attempting to ensure that America repays its debt?”
“China and the U.S. have signed a treaty of mutual friendship—that is so. Regarding the repayment of debt by your government I can only say that I am here merely to manage food and medical assistance.”
Another reporter jumped up. “But Chinese soldiers are not just in San Francisco and Oakland. I’ve seen some at the port of Tacoma and I’ve read reports of them at Long Beach and Eureka.”
Thousands of troops…all the Pacific ports. It sounds more like an invasion than a relief effort.
The general smiled. “Some soldiers are here with me and have inspected the port of Tacoma. They are at those other ports under the terms of the treaty of friendship. For the duration of the emergency they will ensure the aid is quickly and fairly distributed.”
“Chinese currency is showing up in those ports,” Another reporter said. “Why is that?”
“Our soldiers are paid in yuan. Some of it would naturally leak into the surrounding community.”
“Are Americans being paid in yuan?”
“Despite the fact that your dollar has ceased to function as a currency we are not paying American workers in yuan. Currently we are paying American laborers with vouchers for food and fuel.”
A reporter in the front row stood. “When do you believe that the current crisis will end and your soldiers will be able to return home?”
The General sighed. “We are here as peacekeepers, to distribute aid and assist with stabilization—that is all. Our troops will be here only for as long as needed to implement the newly signed treaty. I am a military man. Our departure is a political decision.”
Becky raced to the microphone. “Thank you. That is all the time we have for questions.” Everyone on the platform turned and walked briskly through a side door.
Caden left the briefing room as quickly as possible, but didn’t see Becky in the packed hallway. Heading toward the Adjutant General’s office, he saw David Weston. The two men moved from the traffic into an alcove along the hall.
“What do you think of this friendship treaty?” Weston asked.
“I think Durant is panicking and making some bad decisions.” He shook his head. “Having hundreds, maybe thousands, of foreign troops in the country doesn’t set well with me either, even if they are doing relief work. We can do that and,” he said with a frown, “I don’t believe they will march back on the boats when this emergency is over. Does Governor Monroe? By-the-way, where is he?”
“The governor does not support the treaty, and believed that his presence would be interpreted by many as approval for it, so he chose not to attend the press conference.”
“All you heard is the spin President Durant and the Chinese government want everyone to hear. General Lau is a politician as well as a soldier. I’m sure he’s been told to deliver the talking points and he will do it well, but my sources are telling me it’s not the whole story.”
Caden gave him a questioning look. “Are you saying that Durant is part of some Sino-American deception? I don’t like him, but why would he do that?”
“Perhaps I can find out. The ceremonial transfer of authority for the port of Tacoma is tomorrow morning.” He made a discreet nod in the direction of another Chinese officer. “But I’m to meet with Major Cheng this afternoon and finalize the letter of understanding. He has a reputation of being a hot-tempered, no-nonsense soldier.” He wrote down an address and handed it to Caden. “Meet me there, okay?”
Again he looked at Weston quizzically. “What are you planning?”
“I haven’t worked out the details yet but,” Weston gave him a mischievous grin. “I’ve got some questions I want to ask the Major.”
Caden had never been down to the port, nor had either of the two soldiers he brought along, so it took them a few minutes to find the building where the meeting was being held. As they drove up the Chinese delegation was just outside the gate. There was an American guard at the entrance, but two uniformed Chinese soldiers flanked him. A bit premature isn’t it Major? As Caden stepped from the vehicle he patted his holster. He wondered if he should have issued side arms to his fellow soldiers. No, don’t be silly. David is a politician. He fights with words not guns. What could happen?
Caden and Cheng exchanged salutes as he approached.
“Where is Mr. Weston?” the Chinese officer asked.
“He is coming by another vehicle and should be here momentarily.” I hope.
Seconds later a silver limousine pulled up and backed into a parking spot near the group. David Weston stepped out from the front passenger side carrying a black briefcase.
Caden looked on questioningly. Why is David riding around in a limo and who rides around in the front of one?
Weston walked briskly toward the Major. After shaking hands David said, “I have the draft letter of understanding with me here,” he patted the briefcase with his free hand, “but before we begin there are a few things I don’t understand. Why does President Durant want to give companies controlled by the Chinese military authority over our western ports?”
The Major appeared surprised. “You make it sound so menacing,”
“Well isn’t it?” Weston asked “Would you allow us to control ports in your country?”
He tilted his head back as if looking down his nose at Weston. “The situation does not warrant your country controlling our ports.”
“Why does our situation warrant your control of them?”
Major Cheng looked tired, “I do not answer to you. Come. Let us complete the business at hand.”
“Is it the price we have to pay for the food assistance? If we want to eat do we have to give up our ports and our resources?”
The Major’s eyes flared with anger and for several moments he stared at Weston. “You Americans owe my country nearly one and a half trillion dollars and now you ask us for billions more in aid to feed your peasants.” He glanced left and right. “How will you repay us for this kindness? President Durant has already advised creditors that the United States cannot make the next interest payment when it is due. Your currency is worthless; your people are in panic, your factories sit idle, you have no exports.
“Despite your situation, the Chinese government has graciously agreed to provide hundreds of tons of food and medicine on credit. However, the Chinese people do expect to be repaid.”
Weston smiled sarcastically, “You said our economy is ruined, if it is, how do you expect to get paid?”
“Why do you ask me this, you have heard the answer. Your President Durant understands the situation better than you. He has signed a new Most Favored Nation trade agreement with the People’s Republic and a second treaty granting China the right to manage your Pacific ports for the next ninety-nine years while your western states provide needed raw materials to Chinese in
dustry.”
“What! Ninety-nine years! Why should America agree to that?”
“As I have previously said, President Durant has already agreed to the terms and, if I may be so blunt, if you refuse you will starve.”
“No treaty is binding until it is approved by the Senate.”
“Such legal niceties are no longer practical. The Chinese government has found working with President Durant more advantageous than awaiting some future restored government. Obey your President or forsake our most gracious offer of assistance.”
Caden shook his head. “America is stronger than you think. I know we can get the country back to work and feed ourselves, without sacrificing liberty or our natural resources to you.”
“The matter has already been agreed upon. As the treaty declares, Chinese troops will soon manage security for western mines, oil fields and Pacific ports. Surely, you would not want to violate the laws of your country.”
Weston stepped close to Cheng. “Yes, I think I do want to violate that treaty.”
The two Chinese guards ran toward the general.
“And when the American people hear about this treaty many of them are going to want to shove it back where it came from.”
“You are a fool.” With a shake of his head he said, “But you are not my concern. President Durant must deal with American agitators.”
“I’m no fool…”
“You and Governor Monroe should be arrested.”
“…I am a patriot.” With the last word Weston planted his finger in the Major’s chest.
At that moment the first Chinese soldier arrived at the side of the major and slammed the butt of his AK-47 across Weston’s nose.
Caden jumped forward to catch his friend, but Weston fell to the pavement with a loud thud. Blood covered much of his face.
The second soldier reached the group and raised his rifle to strike another blow.
Caden pulled out his pistol and shouted, “No!”