Warriors from the Ashes

by William W. Johnstone

  Stevens was defeated and he knew it. “No, ma’am. I’ll give the orders immediately.”

  “And I can count on the full support of you and your other commanding officers in this offensive?” she asked, her eyes dangerously dark.

  “Yes, ma’am. You have my word on it, as an officer and a gentleman.”

  She smiled for the first time in several minutes. “And if you fail me, Brad, I promise you I’ll have your head on it. Understand?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, putting his hat on and standing up. He gave her a quick salute and left the room, followed closely by Colonel King.

  Harlan Millard stood up too. “Claire, once again, I must register my protest. I think you are making a mistake.”

  “Harlan,” Claire said softly, “get your candy ass out of here. I’ll deal with you later.”

  Harlan quickly exited the room without looking back.

  Claire turned to Herb, who hadn’t said a word during the entire meeting.

  “Well, what do you think, Herb?” she asked.

  “I think you’re a hell of a lady, and that you’re gonna kick ass and take names this time,” he said.

  She stared into his eyes and slowly began to unbutton her blouse. “I love it when you talk like that,” she said, letting her glance slide toward her bedroom door.

  Herb stood up and walked over to stand behind her desk chair. He leaned over and let both his hands slide over her shoulders and down her chest to cup her breasts under her brassiere.

  “Why don’t you show me how much you love it?” he said in a low, husky voice, kneading her breasts with his hands until they ached and made her heart race and her mouth turn dry.

  She stood up and walked toward the door, glancing back over her shoulder at him seductively.

  “I think I will,” she said, as she stepped out of her dress and let her blouse slide off her shoulders.

  As he followed her through the door, Herb reached up and flipped the light switch off.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Mike Post couldn’t believe the reports coming in from his intel sources across the SUSA. Claire Osterman had reversed her orders and her troops were now headed back toward their borders at speed.

  He got on the radio to Jackie Malone, who was cooling her heels at the Air National Guard base at Peoria, Illinois.

  “Malone here,” Jackie said into the radio.

  “Jackie, this is Mike Post at headquarters.”

  “Mike, when can I get out of this godforsaken place?” Jackie asked, her voice heavy with disgust. “I’m tired of sitting on my . . . well, sitting around doing nothing while Striginov and McGowen are having all the fun down in Mexico.”

  “That’s why I called, Jackie,” Mike said.

  “You mean I’m getting my walking orders?” she asked hopefully.

  “Not exactly. I’ve just learned Claire Osterman has changed her orders about withdrawing her troops. She’s now got them headed back to attack our borders.”

  “That bitch!” Jackie said. “I hope Ben kicks her ass from here to there.”

  “There’s a slight problem with that, Jackie,” Mike said. “Ben made the mistake of trusting her, so he’s pulled most of our battalions down south to help with the Mexican campaign and to give shots to the Mexican citizens.”

  “You mean the borders are unguarded?” she asked.

  “Exactly. Except for token forces, they’re completely bare. They might be able to hold out for a day or two, but unless something is done, and done quickly, we’re liable to lose a couple of states to the U.S.”

  “What can I do?” Jackie asked. “I’ve only got a couple of hundred men up here. Even if you pull us out, we won’t be much help against an entire army.”

  “I’ve got an idea, if you’re up for it,” Mike said.

  “Shoot.”

  “If you can infiltrate Osterman’s base there at Indianapolis, perhaps you can talk some sense into her. They’ll have all their attention on their offensives against us down south, so the base itself should be at minimum security. They think Ben’s too busy down in Mexico to try anything as foolish as attacking her main base.”

  Jackie didn’t answer while she thought about it for a minute. It could be done, she supposed, especially since the troops with her were some of the best scouts in the SUSA’s Armed Forces. She keyed the mike. “Got you, Mike. We’ll head that way right now. Within a few hours we’ll know if it’s possible for us to take the base.”

  “Good luck, Jackie,” Mike said. “Call me as soon as you know anything. Meanwhile, I’ll do what I can to shore up our defenses along the border.”

  Jackie knew they’d never make it to the base by aircraft. Since their last attack, the radars had been manned much more diligently. She called her men together and gave them their assignments.

  Within hours, every vehicle capable of carrying more than a few men had been rounded up in Peoria and the surrounding towns. Jackie led the way in a large Chevrolet Suburban, with the other two hundred men in over a hundred vehicles of assorted makes and models in a long caravan down Highway 74 south toward Indianapolis. They had almost two hundred miles to travel and they weren’t wasting any time.

  * * *

  It was two in the morning when Jackie pulled to the side of the road less than two miles from Fort Benjamin Harrison in Indianapolis.

  She had her men spread out and begin to make their way toward the base. On the northwest quadrant of the base, they came to a long expanse of ten-foot-high wire fence with razor wire curled along the top.

  Jackie stepped to the side, and two of her men cut through the fence with wire cutters, leaving a fifteen-foot-wide swath through the fence.

  Once inside, Jackie gave quick instructions. One-fourth of the men were assigned to take out the barracks and take the soldiers not on duty prisoner. Half the men were assigned to infiltrate the hangars and guard posts and other administrative buildings to take care of the men on night duty and to gain control of the airplanes and other heavy equipment for future use.

  Jackie took the remaining twenty-five scouts with her and made her way toward Claire Osterman’s headquarters building, sure it would be the most heavily guarded on the base considering Claire’s noted paranoia about her personal safety.

  Jackie had warned her men to use their assault knives as much as possible, because any firing of weapons would warn the base it was under attack and would seriously jeopardize their efforts at a complete takeover.

  There were guards posted every twenty feet around Osterman’s personal quarters, which also served as her office during the day.

  Jackie pointed to seven men, who unsheathed their K-Bar assault knives and began to crawl toward the building on their bellies.

  Fifteen minutes later, a soft whistle sounded—the signal the outside guards had been taken out. Jackie and the rest of her team of scouts stood up and walked toward the building. So far, there had been not the slightest sign anything was wrong on the base, in spite of the fact that Jackie knew at least half of it had been taken over by now.

  Jerry Littletree, a Sioux Indian descendant, stepped out of the darkness, wiping the blade of his K-Bar off on his pants leg. “The door into the building is right there, ma’am,” he said, pointing to his left, where a crumpled body could be seen in front of a steel door.

  “You didn’t scalp him, did you?” Jackie asked with a smile.

  Littletree’s expression didn’t change. “Not yet,” he answered, and Jackie shivered, not knowing if he too was teasing or not.

  When she got to the door, Littletree handed her a key he’d taken off the night guard. “Be careful, ma’am,” he said. “We’ve taken care of the outside guards, but there’re sure to be some on the inside as well.”

  Jackie reached into her backpack and took out a spray can. Then she put the key in the lock and eased the door open.

  Slipping inside, she quickly stepped to the corner and sprayed paint over the lens of the camera hung on the wall ther
e.

  She took her Beretta 9mm pistol out of her holster and screwed a silencer onto the barrel, then proceeded up the staircase, her men following directly behind her. She held out her hand at the top of the stairs, and snuck a look around the corner down the corridor.

  A lone man was sitting at a bank of video monitors. As she watched, he banged on the side of one of the screens, cursing quietly to himself. When the picture remained black, he picked up a phone and started to dial.

  Jackie stepped out into the corridor, her pistol hanging by her side, and walked toward the man, whistling softly to herself as she approached him.

  He stopped dialing and looked up, his eyebrows raising in question. “Who the hell are you?” he asked, hanging up the phone and reaching for a holster on his waist.

  “Put your hands up, please,” Jackie said quietly.

  “The hell with you!” the man said harshly, and half rose from his chair, drawing his gun.

  Jackie extended her arm straight out and fired, her gun making a phftt sound no louder than a soft cough.

  The guard’s head snapped back as a tiny hole appeared in his forehead and blood and brains exploded out the back of his skull to paint on the wall a grisly portrait of death. His dead body flopped back into his chair and he slumped forward, his head landing with a thump on his desk.

  Jackie gave a low whistle and her men poured into the corridor behind her. “Spread out and find me Osterman’s quarters, then go in every door and secure whoever’s in the other rooms,” she ordered.

  Minutes later, a sergeant motioned her down the corridor and around a corner to a door marked PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES.

  Jackie tried the doorknob. It was locked, so she pulled her K-Bar, stuck the hardened steel point in the keyhole, and twisted. The knife cut through the softer metal of the door as if it were made of butter, and the door swung open.

  Jackie raised her Beretta and stepped into Claire’s office, swinging her arm around to cover the entire room in one sweep. It was empty, with only a low-wattage night-light on over in a corner.

  She turned to the sergeant behind her and motioned to the coffee machine on a side table. “Make us some coffee, would you, Steve?” she asked. “I have a feeling it’s gonna be a long night.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the sergeant said.

  Jackie stepped to a door on a side wall and eased it open, pointing her Beretta before her as she walked into the room.

  The only light was from a wall clock, which cast a soft light over Claire Osterman’s bedroom. Two figures could be seen intertwined, lying on a large bed, half covered with rumpled covers.

  Herb Knoff was spooned up against Claire’s back, his arm draped over her with his hand cupping her breast. Both of them were completely nude.

  Jackie smiled and holstered her Beretta. “How cute,” she whispered to the men standing behind her. She reached over and snapped on a light while simultaneously jerking the covers from the bed.

  Osterman and Knoff jerked upright, covering their eyes against the harsh light.

  “What the hell’s the meaning of this?” Claire yelled, sitting up in bed and trying to cover her nakedness and at the same time shield her eyes with her hand.

  Knoff rolled quickly to the side and reached for his side arm on the bedside table, only to stop when one of the scouts cocked his M-16 with a loud metallic snap and said, “Uh-uh, podna.”

  Herb returned to his position next to Claire while the scout picked up the pistol and put it in his pocket.

  Regaining some of her composure, Claire glared at Jackie, who was obviously in charge. “Who are you and what is the meaning of this intrusion?” she asked sharply.

  “I’m Jackie Malone, commander of the 512 Battalion of the SUSA’s Armed Forces,” Jackie said.

  “What do you want?” Claire asked, glancing at Herb as he put both his hands over his crotch.

  “We need to talk, Claire,” Jackie said, taking a seat in an easy chair across the room from the bed.

  “May I put some clothes on?” Claire asked, reaching for a robe on the side of the bed.

  “No, I think not,” Jackie said, with just a trace of maliciousness in her tone. “You’re fine just the way you are.”

  Claire looked around at the men with Jackie, who were openly ogling her naked body. “Then could you ask those men to leave the room?”

  Jackie shook her head. “Why? From what I’ve heard, they’re only a few more in a long line of men who’ve seen you naked, Claire.”

  Claire leaned back against her headboard and crossed her arms under her breasts, her face defiant. “All right then, get on with it.”

  “First of all, let me clarify your position, Madame President,” Jackie said. “Your base here is under my complete control, and all of your men are either dead or have been taken prisoner.”

  For the first time, Claire’s eyes seemed to show some fear. This was something she hadn’t been expecting. “Go on.”

  The sergeant stuck his head in the door from the other room. “Coffee’s ready, Jackie.”

  Jackie motioned to Claire. “Would you and . . . your friend like a cup?” she asked.

  Herb shook his head. Claire said, as cool as a cucumber, “Yes, please. With cream and Sweet ’n Low.”

  Jackie glanced at the sergeant. “Two cups, please, Steve. Make mine black.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, and disappeared back through the door.

  “To continue,” Jackie said to Claire, “we understand you’ve gone back on your word to General Raines and have begun to reposition your troops along our border.”

  “You are misinformed, Ms. Malone,” Claire said. “My troops are merely undergoing training exercises.”

  Jackie shook her head. “You know, Claire,” she said, deliberately using Claire’s first name, “as much as you lie, one would think you’d be better at it. Our intel is definite. You plan to attack the SUSA within twenty-four hours.”

  Claire shrugged, but didn’t speak. Her eyes glared hatred at Jackie.

  Jackie waited while the sergeant handed her and Claire their cups of coffee. She took a sip. “Ummm, good coffee,” she said.

  “I’m glad you like it,” Claire said. “If I thought you were going to survive this little intrusion, I’d send you some.”

  Jackie smiled. “Oh, I’ll survive, Claire. It’s only your fate that’s in question here tonight.”

  Claire’s eyes widened and her hand shook slightly as she took a drink of her coffee, the only signs she gave that Jackie’s words scared her.

  “Now, here’s the deal,” Jackie continued. “If you get on the radio right now and call off your attack, and once again recall your troops, you may . . . I say may . . . get out of this situation alive.”

  “And if I don’t?” Claire said with false bravado.

  Jackie shrugged. “Then, first you’re going to watch what happens to your little teddy bear there,” she said, pointing her head at Herb, whose face paled at the thought of his fate, “and then we’ll see just how much pain you can stand before you change your mind.”

  “I don’t believe you’d dare torture a sitting president of the United States,” Claire said.

  Jackie looked over at the group of men with her. Then she noticed something that made her stomach crawl. She smiled grimly. “Jerry, would you step forward, please?”

  Jerry Littletree stepped from the rear of the group to stand before Claire’s bed. A bloody scalp was hanging from his belt and his trousers were stained with blood from his K-Bar. “Jerry Littletree here is a Sioux Indian, Claire,” Jackie said, watching Claire’s eyes fall to the scalp hanging from Little-tree’s belt. “I don’t know how much history you know, Claire, but white settlers used to save a bullet for their womenfolk rather than let them fall into the hands of the Sioux. If you continue to refuse to give the order to pull your troops back, I’m going to let Jerry show you what they were afraid of.”

  “You wouldn’t dare!” Claire said, shrinking bac
k against the headboard.

  “Jerry,” Jackie said, leaning back in her chair and continuing to sip her coffee.

  Littletree grinned savagely and pulled his bloody K-Bar from its scabbard. He stepped toward the bed.

  “Claire, for God’s sake!” Herb almost screamed, pulling his legs up and crossing them over his privates.

  Claire held out her hands. “All right, all right. Call that savage off!”

  Littletree looked disappointed as he stepped back among the men around the bed, but he kept his knife out and ran his finger along the blade, staring at Claire through dark eyes.

  “Steve, get the radio room on the phone,” Jackie said, “and have them transfer the call in here.”

  A few minutes later, the phone on Claire’s bedside table rang and she picked it up.

  “Give the man on the phone instructions on how to contact whoever is in charge of your Army,” Jackie said, “and if you make a mistake, or happen to say the wrong thing, I won’t call Littletree off again.”

  After Claire had gotten in touch with Stevens and explained that she’d again changed her mind, she told him to call back the troops and have them stand down. After listening to him argue for a few seconds, she screamed into the phone, “This is not a matter for discussion, General Stevens. Either do it right now or face a court-martial and firing squad in the morning.” Then she slammed the phone down.

  “Are you satisfied now?” Claire asked, again trying to cover her breasts with her arms.

  “No, but I’ll be satisfied when we get reports the troops are in fact gone from our borders,” Jackie said. Then she turned to the sergeant. “Steve, round up the men and have them get a C-130 ready for us. We’re going home.”

  “What about her?” he asked, inclining his head toward Claire.

  “She’s going to ride with us until we’re sure she’s keeping her word this time. If the troops are still gone when we get home, we’ll let one of her pilots bring her back.”

  “And I’m supposed to believe that?” Claire asked.

  Jackie shrugged. “Believe what you want, ’cause you really don’t have much of a choice in the matter. My orders were to stop the attack on our borders, not to kill you.” She grinned. “Otherwise, you’d already be dead.”