Midnight Skills

by William Allen

  “We will be moved by convoy to the staging point tonight,” his father replied. “I’m in already. Told the General this morning. David? Angel?”

  “In.” Both men replied without hesitation, then they looked at each other and shared a grin. In quick succession, the others cascaded in, volunteering to go on the mission without even hearing the details. Most of the men and women who’d come with Luke’s father were also veterans of the Kingwood excursion, and all had seen fighting in dozens of other, smaller actions. Luke knew them all, and he realized his father was bringing a lot of his core soldiers to this battle.

  “I’m in,” Mike Elkins announced, but Luke’s father was already shaking his head.

  “Mike, I can’t let you go,” Sam said bluntly. “You’re too important to too many projects back home. If nothing else, we need you to handle the ranch and take care of all our folks back there.”

  “But, Sam…”

  Sam shook his head, and Luke agreed. Unspoken was the fact that Mike was going to be a father again, and his wife and sons already needed him. Plus, if something should happen to the Messner men, Mike would be there to protect Paige. And Amy.

  With that thought, Luke looked at his fiancé and offered her a smile. Amy was opening her mouth to speak when Luke simply shook his head.

  “But I can help,” Amy offered. “I can shoot, and your father has been training me to spot for him,” she continued protesting.

  “Honey, if you were there, I couldn’t concentrate on doing the job,” Luke said bluntly. “I know you aren’t a coward, and if this was just some simple bandit raid, I’d be glad to have you along.”

  “If the mission is so dangerous, why aren’t the soldiers going instead?”

  “Amy, I am a soldier now,” Luke replied patiently, “and a lot of other soldiers will be going as well.”

  “Two whole brigades,” Sam murmured, as if surprised for the first time that day. “Including a battalion of Army Rangers.”

  “I didn’t even know we had units that size anymore,” Luke said, his voice tinged with more than a little shock. “I mean, I know they call us Second Brigade, but I doubt there’s even a thousand of us altogether. If I remember, that’s about two battalions, total.”

  David nodded, agreeing with Luke’s assessment of his unit size. Gone were the days of the divisions, with their ten to fifteen thousand men and a whole tail of specialists to follow behind. Luke’s father sensed what his son was saying and continued that line of thought.

  “Finally taught the Army to make everyone a rifleman first,” Sam noted drily. “It just took the end of civilization to do it. No sensitivity training officer or public affairs spokesperson, but you still have the same number of fighters. But, Colonel Reynolds confided in me, he had to cobble together the pieces of several battalions to get that one. Too many of the men deserted to go after their families in the days after the power died. Some came back later with their people, but many didn’t.”

  “Well, that’s all well and good for the main thrust,” David said, “but I’ve got my concerns about this side mission they’ve dreamed up for us.”

  “Don’t make me ask, Mr. Metcalf,” Amy demanded. “What is the side mission you’re talking about?”

  “Well, you did ask,” David replied, flashing a smile. He liked Amy. She reminded him a lot of his own kids. “And while the troops are keeping Chambers and his goons busy with a rapid assault on their stronghold, the generals want us to seize the grain silos being used for food storage and hold them against the expected counterattack until the cavalry arrives.”

  Well, that was the mission in a nutshell.

  “How are you supposed to pull off something like that? Those food stores must be under heavy guard. They would have to be. That’s how Chambers’ generals control the food volunteers.” Amy’s grasp of tactics and strategy never ceased to amaze Luke, and this was one time he wished she might have missed the implications.

  “We have a plan for that. I’m sorry, but we shouldn’t have even said this much,” Luke explained, glancing around as he spoke. Amy caught the look and let the matter drop for the moment. Even in this supposedly secure location, leaks happened.

  “So, you’re leaving tonight?” Amy asked, changing the subject. “What about the rest of us?”

  That’s when Sam spoke up, stepping close to the two lovebirds.

  “I’ve made arrangements for you and Mike to stay with some friends close by at their compound,” Sam Messner said softly. “I believe you know them. Major Keller’s family.”

  Amy was still stung by Luke’s refusal, but deep inside, she felt the words to be true. At Sam’s mention of an opportunity to reunite with her friends, she allowed a tiny smile to turn up the corners of her mouth. She’d come to treasure her time with Darwin and especially Hazel, but given the realities of the world, Amy never expected to see them again. They were the sweet, kindly grandparents Amy had read about in books, but never experienced in real life.

  “I…I would like that,” she managed to stammer. “They’re good people. But are we putting them in danger by going?”

  Sam returned her smile and shook his head, pleased by his future daughter-in-law’s concern. When Luke left to fight his demons, an emotionally exhausted Sam Messner expected he would need to add Amy Landon to his list of damaged souls he needed to shelter and protect. Instead, he’d found himself depending more and more on this young lady, and while she was not even two years older than his daughter Paige, he’d found her to be very intelligent and wise beyond her years. In truth, he’d looked to her as another of his children.

  “No, I don’t think so. When Scott extended the offer, he indicated they had beefed up their security, after the fight over in War Eagle.”

  Despite the current lack of reliable mass communications, mankind’s love of gossip and tale-telling ensured some stories circulated far and wide. Word of mouth, at first, spread news of the successful battle at the tiny park in Arkansas. Good news was scarce, and no one could resist the tale of a ragtag band of Arkansas National Guard troops standing together with scores of courageous local citizens, who’d somehow managed to overwhelm a superior force made up of Homeland’s elite mercenaries and cowardly Army deserters.

  That was the initial story, but later, the darker tales began to circulate, and Luke suspected they were true. He could have verified them with only a few words with Major Keller, but resisted the urge. Major Keller, Scott, was now an officer, and Luke felt the difference, even if the man himself dismissed the commission as a simple convenience for him to lead the scout school.

  “If you succeed, if this plan works, does that mean we can all go home?” Amy asked, her words strangely tentative to Luke’s ears. Taking her in his arms, sensing the tension, Luke felt the realization like a jolt of electricity. Amy was worried. Worried that even if he survived this crazy mission, he still might never return to her.

  “Amy, my love,” he replied softly. “I thought about you all the time while I was gone. I missed you every day, and dreamed of having you back in my arms. Hell, I’m sure the guys in my squad are tired of hearing me talk about you. Even Abbie.”

  “Who’s Abbie?” Amy’s question popped out in reflex.

  “Amy,” Luke whispered again, this time in a voice laced with humor. “She’s the sniper attached to our squad. Great gal. Sharp eye and runs good for someone her age.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “Well, she’s old, you know? Like in her late twenties or something. Anyway, Eddie has his eye on her, and I think the feeling is mutual. Whatever,” Luke explained, and he felt his girl suppress a giggle at his reply.

  “Practically an old maid, then?” she teased.

  “Well, I don’t know about that. She still looks good for her age.” Luke’s sly response elicited another small laugh.

  “You always have to push it, don’t you, mister?” Amy charged mockingly, and when Luke pulled back, he could see the same old humor dancing in her b
lue eyes.

  “Only with you, honey. Only with you.”

  “You better come back to me, Mr. Lucas Messner, or I will be very upset with you.”

  Despite the effort for humor, Luke saw the tears in her eyes, and the worry still eating away at her. For Amy, getting to see Luke was a bittersweet treat, as she was once again forced to watch while he went off to fight.

  “I’ll come back, sweetheart. I’ll come back, and we’ll have that wedding we talked about. In the spring, we will be married.”

  “You just come home to me, Luke,” Amy demanded, her oval face suddenly turning hard and fierce. “You kill as many of those filthy motherfuckers as you have to, but you come home to me.”

  Caught in the moment, Luke felt his own inner beast respond.

  “You know I will, my precious. Whatever it takes,” he swore. He knew he would murder the entire city, if that was the price for coming home.

  “And watch out for your father,” Amy half-whispered, her words tickling his ears as she spoke. “You know he hasn’t been the same since, with what happened with your mom. Bring him home too, if you can. Don’t let him waste his life for nothing. I think he’s looking for a chance to go out in a blaze of glory, you know?”

  Luke knew, but he didn’t know how to stop his father from doing something crazy. That ship had sailed. Plus, how the heck was Luke supposed to even judge what was crazy anymore?

  All too soon, the call went out and Luke found himself gathering up his gear and joining the line of men trudging out of the hanger. Dusk was upon them and Luke looked up at the low-hanging clouds, then sniffed the air. Amy kept a grip on his arm as he approached the short column of blacked-out transports.

  “Checking for drones?” Amy asked cautiously.

  “No, not here. The Air Force has cobbled together some kind of low-range radar that is still strong enough to pick them up. Something they were working on before the lights went out,” Luke explained. Captain Gilbert mentioned the increased security at the end of the briefing, and the addition of some refitted surface-to-air missile batteries brought in from Fort Campbell to protect this and other high value sites. The Committee still had their own helicopters, after all, and Luke suspected some of the older model jet aircraft had already been repaired.

  “So, how are you supposed to get all the way to Kansas City, anyway? Take forever over the roads, and you’re certain to run into enemy patrols.”

  Luke replied, but Amy didn’t catch his muttered response.

  “What was that?”

  “I said, choppers,” Luke repeated glumly. “I really hate helicopters.”

  CHAPTER 58

  “Ten minutes!”

  The shout briefly cut through the roar of the engines and Luke adjusted his seat for the umpteenth time while Corporal Silcott lay with his head pressed against the teen’s shoulder. The long, cylindrical interior of the heaving Chinook helicopter offered little in the way of creature comforts, and most of the thirty soldiers crammed into the confines found the ride more than a little disconcerting, even after two hours of flight. Silcott, of course, went to sleep within five minutes of takeoff.

  Despite his discomfort in the hard canvas seat, Luke found himself pleased to be reunited with his squad. They’d met up with another pair of trucks outside of Branson, and after confirming the passengers and allowing Luke a few minutes to reassure his men, they’d continued on with the two additional vehicles added to the procession.

  The eight-truck convoy rolled through the night, heading back north on country roads but angling to the east and away from Joplin, while threading a needle to avoid the burned-out wreck of Jefferson City. The lead truck, a five-ton converted into a wrecker and sporting a massive blade attached to the front, cleared the path, and the menacing barrels of no less than four machine guns, including a Ma Deuce .50 caliber mounted on top of the cab, insured any locals looked elsewhere for their foraging. Though the Committee claimed this part of central Missouri, the once-frequent patrols ended weeks earlier when their commanders re-positioned them for the push into Joplin.

  By midnight, the eight trucks exited Highway 83 and the driver in the lead truck guided the snake of vehicles off to another exit, and Luke felt the truck lurch when the brakes engaged, bringing the heavy truck to a halt. Luke, riding with his squad, grabbed his backpack and rifle and followed Eddie Castillo as the men hastily exited the rear of the five-ton. The eight-man squad formed up quickly, taking a knee and shouldering their rifles in a semicircle, and Luke noticed others doing the same when they also emerged from their rides.

  “Where the hell are we?” Corporal Silcott asked, but Luke barely heard the question while his mind scrambled to piece the scene together.

  They appeared to have parked inside a massive structure, perhaps another hanger, Luke thought, and he studied the metal walls and the series of guy wires and cables stretched overhead, but he couldn’t make out the ceiling. Portable work lights formed a perimeter, and Luke could hear the diesel generators chugging away nearby. At least a hundred yards long and fifty yards wide, the expansive chamber boasted a concrete floor throughout and what looked like markings on the floor. Parking spots, he wondered.

  Before he could spend any more time studying the floor, he saw something else that made his stomach begin to form a knot. Three long, ungainly-looking metal shapes squatted fifty yards to the left, and Luke recognized them. More helicopters. Large, ugly helicopters.

  “I see our rides are here,” Sam Messner commented, and he walked over to join his son.

  “And where exactly is here?” Luke asked, shaking his father’s hand and waving for the rest of his men to return to their feet.

  “Lucas Oil Speedway,” Sam explained, “outside of Wheatland, Missouri. It’s a dirt track racing venue. We’re behind the grandstand here, where the team trailers usually park. Our briefer picked the location and scouted the area before calling in the birds.”

  “Oh, great,” Luke mumbled, “more death-defying bumblebees. I really hate choppers.”

  “Buck up,” Sam said, with a touch of his old humor. “You’ll get used to them. This is great. These Chinooks give us enough payload capacity to lift both teams, with one left over for backup.” Looking at the crews attending to the helicopters, Sam offered Luke a tight grin before continuing. “Now, quit farting around and introduce me to your men.”

  Luke made the appropriate introductions, quickly making a point of identifying his two corporals and then rattling off the names of the rest of the squad, even as the groups merged into uneasy clumps. The largest contingent of troops came with Major Keller, as expected. They’d started off in Arkansas and though Luke didn’t know the location of Keller’s school, it was a lot closer than the Messner ranch back in Ripley. Scott Keller’s team had seventeen men, well, fifteen men and two women.

  The two women didn’t register with Luke at first. He was accustomed to integrated units, after all. One was a stranger, and the other, well, wasn’t. Luke hadn’t recognized her at first. She’d cut her hair and really buffed up since he’d seen her last.

  “Luke? Is that you? You look different. Taller, and not so malnourished,” she’d said in a rush when she approached, and Luke immediately recognized the voice. Low and still a bit gravelly.

  “Mrs. Trimble?” Luke asked, shocked by her improved appearance.

  “You can still call me Sarah, Luke. How are you doing? And Amy?”

  She’d made the comment so casually, but Luke could tell the woman held herself in check, resisting the urge to grab the young man like one of her children and check him for boo-boos.

  ‘I’m fine, just fine, and so is Amy,” Luke replied with some assurance. “How are the girls doing?”

  “They’re getting by,” Sarah said, not trying to sugarcoat things. Not with Luke. “Missing me, they say, but I’m convinced Hazel is spoiling them rotten when I’m gone.”

  “You’re working with Major Keller now?” Luke said, his words barely a question.r />
  “Yes, Scott and I run the school, as well as taking the occasional mission that comes along,” Sarah confided. “How did you get roped into all this?”

  “By being the biggest pain in the ass I could be, at least to the Committee,” Luke admitted.

  “So are you militia now or…”

  “Texas Army National Guard,” Luke explained. “Sergeant, Second Squad, Third Platoon, Charlie Company. Part of Second Brigade, but attached to this lash-up, as my father would say.”

  With that oblique reference, Sam stepped up next to his son and stuck out his hand.

  “I’m Sam Messner,” Luke’s father said, shaking Sarah’s hand with vigor, “and I don’t think I ever actually used that term before. You’re the Sarah, Luke and Amy told me about? I know Luke is happy to see you are doing so well.”

  “Yes, I am,” Sarah replied. “I owe my life and the lives of my daughters to your son, Mr. Messner. He is an extraordinary young man. You and your wife must be very proud.”

  “I am, I mean, we are,” Sam muttered, a dark cloud passing over his features. Luke knew the feeling, since he could now go a day or two without thinking of his mother’s charred corpse.

  “Mom didn’t make it,” Luke whispered by way of explanation, and he saw Sarah’s face whiten with sadness and shock. “Hellfire missile before Christmas.”

  Before Luke could explain further, a man in a worn but clean windbreaker, long hair tied back with a leather cord, and a heavy beard, summoned the collected group of fighters to assemble. In his early thirties, the speaker had the weather-worn appearance of a man who’d made his living working outdoors. Others might mistake his looks for that of a hunting guide or a cattle rancher, but Luke knew different. The way he held himself, the way he moved, told Luke the man was an operator of some sort.