“Damn, I gotta piss,” whispered Tomlinson.
“Piss then,” Sebastian told him.
Tomlinson rolled a couple feet away and undid his trousers.
“Ahhh, nothing like taking a piss after you’ve held it forever,” sighed Tomlinson. “It just feels-”
“Ssshhh,” Sebastian snapped as he heard a truck coming. He peered through the scope ‘til he finally saw it. A gray pickup truck was speeding toward the MPS ship Bennett. When it reached the gangway of the ship it stopped and two men got out and ran up toward the quarter deck. Sebastian sensed something was wrong. He thought to himself, Had their mission been compromised? Only a few minutes went by before he heard the general quarters alarm sound on the ship.
“Shit!” Sebastian said out loud.
“What’s up?” Tomlinson said after rolling back over and grabbing his binoculars.
“We’ve been compromised, Tomlinson; contact the Makin Island and let them know.”
“Roger that,” Tomlinson said then pressed the mike of the radio. “Charlie Papa, Charlie Papa, this is Sierra Tango 1 over.”
Sebastian now saw the decks of the Bennett spring to life. The two men who had obviously sounded the alarm ran down the gangway and got back in their truck, they sped off toward the Stockham, which was moored next to the Bennett. Their trip was unnecessary, though, as Sebastian heard the general quarters alarm begin on the Stockham too.
“Charlie Papa, Charlie Papa, this is Sierra Tango 1 over,” Tomlinson said again into the mike of the radio.
Sebastian looked at his watch, it was now 0306; the raiding party would be hitting the shore any minute now.
“Charlie Papa, the two targets have been alerted to our intentions, over,” Tomlinson said to someone on board the Makin Island.
Sebastian could see the men onboard the Bennett preparing to defend the ship. Just what he had feared was coming true, American against American.
“Roger that, Sierra Tango 1 out,” Tomlinson said finishing his conversation with command on the Makin Island.
“So what’s up?” Sebastian asked. He didn’t take his eyes away from the scope.
“They want us to proceed with the raid and that the rules of engagement are the same.”
“Damn it,” Sebastian said with frustration in his voice.
In the distance, Sebastian then heard more vehicles coming. He turned his rifle toward the sound and looked through his scope. What he saw confirmed his fears. Three trucks of armed military police were coming toward the ships.
“This is going down very badly,” Sebastian said.
“Yep, sure is,” Tomlinson said agreeing with Sebastian.
“Van Zandt, I see our raiding party; they’re heading toward the Stockham now!” Tomlinson said peering through the binoculars. He wasn’t the only one who had seen them either. Within seconds, yelling started to come from the ship as spotlights splashed down on the advancing Marines and sailors.
“What do we do?” Tomlinson asked.
“First we need to slow down these reinforcements,” Sebastian said as he placed his finger on the trigger and started to squeeze. He thought to himself that as soon as he squeezed off this shot, there was no going back. The seconds it took to fire the first round off seemed like forever. Sebastian’s training had paid off, and with precision he hit the front tire of the first truck. He cycled the bolt of his rifle with speed and took aim on the second truck’s front tire, and within three seconds he fired his second shot, striking his target. He repeated this one more time and took out the third truck’s front tire. His accuracy had worked; the first truck lost control and almost crashed but the driver maintained control only to have the second truck ram him. Just after he had taken his third and final shot, the third truck swerved to miss the accident and lost control due to its flat front tire and turned over. The men violently flew out of the open back onto the road. Sebastian wasn’t sure if anyone was dead, but he had slowed them down and helped assure the success of their raiding teams.
Sebastian now turned his attention to the action happening over near the Stockham. When he looked through his scope he saw a couple of Marines lying on the ground. The crew of the Stockham had managed to bring enough gunfire to hold back the advancing Marines. He scanned the decks of the ship looking for the shooters. Finding one near the bridge with a rifle, he placed the cross hairs on the man’s chest and started to squeeze the trigger. He then paused. His previous thoughts came to him again. This is an American! He took his gaze away from the scope and looked down. Tomlinson could hear him exhale deeply and turned to him.
“Corporal, you okay?”
Sebastian did not respond, he just looked down.
“Corporal Van Zandt, you alright?” Tomlinson asked again.
Clearing his thoughts and getting back behind his rifle Sebastian replied, “Yeah, I’m okay.”
He soon found the man with the rifle on the bridge and took aim again. He placed his finger back on the trigger and squeezed, this time he aimed for the man’s head. His thoughts were that if he was going to kill him he’d make it a clean shot. He applied more steady pressure to the trigger till it went off. The round hit the man in the head. Sebastian could see his head explode and the man fall backwards.
“Good shot!” Tomlinson said.
Sebastian took the butt of the rifle out of his shoulder and took a deep breath.
Tomlinson was busy looking for more targets through his binoculars, “I have another shooter, three o’clock to the last guy; distance is the same, wind-age is the same. Take the shot.”
“I don’t know if I can do it,” Sebastian said exacerbated.
“What?” Tomlinson asked. He put the binoculars down and turned to Sebastian.
Sebastian was not feeling right about any of this, “Tomlinson, what are we doing? We’re killing Americans now. All I wanted to do was go home; now we’re in Diego Garcia killing Americans.”
“Listen corporal; I hear ya’ but it’s on now. We are committed and now it’s us or them.”
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Sebastian said again.
“Can you at least spot for me?” Tomlinson asked.
Sebastian handed the rifle to Tomlinson, who didn’t waste time. He took aim on the last target he had spotted for Sebastian. It took him only seconds before he squeezed off a round, killing the man.
Sebastian and Tomlinson’s accurate shooting had provided enough support for the raiding party to make ground and advance toward their objective.
Tomlinson was not waiting for Sebastian; he was identifying his own targets and taking the shots. Sebastian was watching it all happen before him through the lenses of his binoculars.
Then he heard what sounded like helicopters. Sebastian lowered the binos and looked into the darkness beyond the ships and the gun battle before him. Moments later, two Cobra attack helicopters came racing above the two MPS ships and took position hovering over the bay. It appeared the call to have no air support had been changed. Sebastian knew the targets they were going after. Seconds later, the Cobra gunships opened up their 20MM mini guns and blasted the reinforcements that were in the trucks. The mini-guns laid waste to the vehicles and what men were still in the area.
“Fuckin-A, get some!” Tomlinson said loudly with excitement.
Now Sebastian knew that his whole world had officially changed; he now was a rebel, a traitor, a mutineer. If Barone was wrong and the world they went back to came back to normal, they all would be arrested and possibly hanged for treason. As these thoughts raced through his mind, he asked himself if he should go through with it or just stop now. He couldn’t turn back now; he had already killed one American if not more in the trucks. Following Barone was the only direct way back to Gordon and his family. He finally decided to be committed to this for now; but he didn’t know if he would do it past landing back in California.
He turned to Tomlinson and said, “Okay, T; I’m good now; let me get some.”
“That’s m
usic to my ears.” Tomlinson said, handing him back the rifle.
Sebastian took the rifle, cycled the bolt and placed his face against the stock and looked through the scope. Tomlinson said, “Look aft on the Bennett, we have a guy up there with a rifle.
Sebastian searched for the man ‘til he saw the muzzle flash of his rifle. He took aim on his head, squeezed the trigger and shot him dead.
****
Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado
“Mr. President, thank you for coming so quickly. We have an incident that needs your attention, sir,” Griswald said.
Conner took a seat at the table in the command post briefing room.
“No problem. What do we have?” Conner asked. The lack of sleep was taking a toll on Conner. He had large black circles under his eyes and he was losing weight; not from lack of food but from his lack of eating.
“Sir, we just received word that two Maritime Prepositioned Ships were just seized in Diego Garcia.”
“By whom?”
Griswald looked at his colleagues before he answered Conner. “Sir, by U.S. Marines.”
“What?”
“Yes sir; I’m surprised by this too, but what we have heard is that a Lt. Col Barone with support of his officer corps have taken control of an Amphibious Ready Group. They sailed the ships to Diego Garcia, refueled, resupplied and then after they left; they attacked the island and seized two MPS ships.”
Conner just sat looking stunned, he shook his head and asked, “Where are they now, where are they headed?”
“Sir, I do not know. Their orders were to head to the East Coast to help support the recovery effort in Washington, D.C. Where they are heading is unknown for now.”
“Do we have any satellite support at all?”
“Yes sir, we do, most of those survived the EMP’s due to their Medium Earth Orbit; but it appears that Barone has disabled us from tracking the ships.”
“Okay, let me make sure I understand what has happened. A rogue Marine colonel has taken an entire ARG, then sailed it to Diego Garcia where he stole two MPS ships. He is now sailing for God knows where.”
“Sir, that is correct. It appeared to the U.S. command element on the island that they were just stopping by to get refueled and resupplied before heading east. After the ARG had departed the island, the command on DG had been notified by someone on the ships that Colonel Barone had mutinied and taken the USS Makin Island, the USS New Orleans and the USS Pearl Harbor and had plans for seizing the MV Bennett and USNS Stockham. DG command attempted to thwart the seizures but overwhelming force by Barone’s men stopped any resistance and both ships were taken. DG command reports 42 personnel KIA and 23 WIA. They also reported that Barone lost six Marines.”
“Where is Barone based out of?” Conner asked.
“Sir, he commands the 2nd battalion, 4th Marine Regiment out of Camp Pendleton, California.”
“Then, general, I would guess California is where he’s headed. What assets do we have in the area?”
“For what, sir?” Griswald asked, not sure of how to answer the question.
“I’ll just cut the bullshit right here, general. We cannot let this stand, we cannot have Marine colonels or anybody just stealing our ships and resources. This man and his men must be dealt with. Find me some planes or a goddamn carrier group to go after this man and his pack of traitors. They must be stopped.”
Griswald looked around the table and then back to the president. “Sir, yes sir.”
“Let me know as soon as you find someone to intercept them-,” Conner said pausing mid-sentence. A new idea came to him. “General, do what you can to contact this colonel; I wish to speak to him.”
Raising his eyebrows curiously Griswald replied; “Yes, sir.”
“Thank you general. Now if that is all, I will retire back to my room,” Conner said then stood up, turned and left. As he walked back to his room, thoughts of how fast things were falling apart consumed him. He had never thought that military commanders would start to disobey orders and mutiny. It had not been a week since the attacks and things were deteriorating quickly. They still did not know who had attacked them and they still had not responded. He knew that his time to make a decision was running out; he knew in order to show his enemies he was serious he would have to act soon.
Entering his room, he could hear his wife sleeping. He wanted to wake her up and tell her about his day; he missed her so much. He needed her more than she needed him at this moment. She had closed herself off since the death of their son. Even though he was being ignored, he felt it important to just love her regardless of what she gave in return. He hoped that eventually she would come back to him, but until then he would have to love for two people.
Conner not only had to support his country in this dark hour, he had to take control of his marriage, too if it were going to survive.
****
San Diego, CA
Gordon loved his coffee. In fact, if he didn’t get his “fix” he would get headaches. The smell of fresh brewed coffee was one element of his past life he missed. So while he didn’t enjoy the cold, bitter coffee, he enjoyed it better than a headache.
The search for food was becoming more and more difficult every day. They had to keep going further and further only to find less and less. The community teams he had set up had been working. Their little community was functioning like a town. After each scavenger team returned, they would inventory and store their findings nightly. The following day it would be distributed evenly to each household. Rancho Valentino was fortunate because they had a diverse cross-section of people; from doctors and nurses to engineers and even a horticulturist. Gordon had taken direct control of the community’s security forces. He saw that they were trained, armed and given the support they needed to protect the community. He had set up guard positions at each gated entrance and on several roof tops that had commanding views of the area.
Gordon and the other scavenger teams started to see an increase in violence on the outside. They had been fortunate to have enough arms to give to all of his security forces but there was not enough to protect from an all-out assault if attacked by a well-armed enemy. He needed to find weapons and ammunition. He had conducted a meeting with his security force team leads comprised of Jimmy, Nelson and a cop named Dan Bradford. Gordon did not think highly of Dan. Maybe it was that he had the responsibility of protecting people but didn’t have the discipline to take care of himself. He was overweight and slovenly. Coming highly recommended from Mindy did not help. Whatever the reason, Gordon just didn’t quite trust Dan nor did he care for his arrogance; but Gordon had dealt with a lot of egos in his life and he would just have to deal with Dan.
All the team leads decided that they needed to create two new three-man teams, one headed by Gordon and the other by Dan; to find weapons and ammo. They had identified locations where they might find them; Dan would take his team to different police stations while Gordon would go to gun stores.
Each morning before Gordon left for the day, he went and kissed his kids and made sure he told them he loved them. Dan was taking his team south into Mira Mesa; the area was heavily populated and was sure to pose potential problems. Gordon stressed to Dan to get in and out as fast as possible, they had a clear objective, no detours or sightseeing. Gordon was taking his team north just a few miles to a sheriff’s depot then onto Solana Beach if they could fit it in.
Gordon walked back into his bedroom after visiting his children. As Samantha was getting dressed, he walked up behind her and put his arms around her. Embracing her tightly, he kissed her neck and whispered in her ear. He loved her so much; she had adapted quickly to the new reality and had volunteered to be a teacher in a school that they had put together. The idea of the school was Samantha’s; she thought it best to ensure the children were still educated. The school also gave the children something of structure and the comfort of routine.
Holding her tightly, Gordon said, “Love you babe.”
Samantha leaned against Gordon and replied, “I love you, too.”
“I just wanted to give you a kiss before I left.”
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“No-where special,” Gordon said, he never got into too much detail with her over his daily missions and he never told her about any incidents; the last thing he wanted to do was make her any more nervous than she was.
Samantha turned around and faced him, she looked up at him and asked, “Gordon, how long can we do this? How long can we keep this all together?”
Looking down at her, he stroked some hair away from her face, “As long as we have to.”
“That’s not an answer Gordon.”
“Sam, all I know is we don’t have a choice but to keep doing what we’re doing. Things seem to be working, and if we can keep finding food then we will be okay,” Gordon answered. He had a hard time keeping a straight face, as he didn’t believe the words that came spilling out of his mouth.
Looking more deeply into his eyes she asked, “Really?”
Putting his hand on her cheek and bringing her lips to his, he kissed her. He then looked at her green eyes and said, “Yes, we will be okay,” Gordon was unsure of what the future held. His nightly sleep was interrupted with nightmares of him losing his family to this new world. He struggled but had been successful at keeping those thoughts out of his mind. “Honey, I have to go; I’ll see you tonight,” he kissed her again and left.
Walking the neighborhood, he noticed a transformation in the community. Dozens of people were walking the streets coming and going, clothes lines now stretched in backyards, tarps were hung to capture the morning condensation, five-gallon buckets were positioned under rain gutters to gather run-off, smoke billowed out of chimneys. Gone were his neighbors exercising or mothers casually pushing their strollers while talking on their phones. Most people had pushed their unusable cars out into the street to open up more space in their garages.
The End - a Post Apocalyptic Novel Page 17