One of the two vehicles sped up and pulled away from the second. It pulled up close and the second stopped further away to provide cover.
The woman cried, “Help.”
A soldier got out with his rifle lowered. He called out, “We’re here to help, ma’am.”
Inside the house, Gordon spotted movement.
The soldier drew closer but the woman just stood there.
“There’s someone in the house. Ask who’s in the house,” Gordon said over the radio.
The soldier stopped his advance and asked, “Is anyone in the house?”
“Just my kids,” she replied.
Gordon focused on the house. He saw more movement, but he couldn’t quite make out who it was. He got back on the radio and ordered, “Tell her to have everyone vacate the house.”
“I need your help, please,” she begged.
“Ma’am, I need everyone out of the house,” the soldier said.
Gordon’s intuition was now screaming at him. Something was clearly wrong about this. “Back up. Something’s not right about this.”
“Ma’am, please tell your kids to lea…” The soldier froze.
The crack of a gun going off echoed across the small valley.
The soldier stumbled forward and fell down.
“Light it up!” Gordon ordered.
The woman ran towards the Humvee.
“Shoot her. Take her out!” Gordon yelled over the radio.
A .50-caliber machine gun was mounted on top and the gunner turned the barrel towards her. He took aim but was hit in the neck. Blood squirted from the wound.
“Get out of there!” Gordon yelled. He was frantic watching the ambush go down.
The second vehicle was mounted with an Mk 19 40mm grenade launcher. The signature thump, thump, thump, thump sounded as the gunner unleashed a volley of grenades all aimed at the house. The first round hit the window and exploded. The subsequent rounds flew inside and began to detonate.
The woman kept running towards the first Humvee as it was backing away at a high rate of speed. “Help me, please!”
A volley of small-arms fire from the column rained down on her and the house.
She dropped to the ground, dead from multiple wounds to the abdomen.
The house was now ablaze from the grenade attack.
“Cease fire,” an officer called out over the radio.
When the last echoes of the gunfire faded into the distance, Gordon peered down on the scene.
By his count, two Cascadian soldiers were dead and an unknown number of enemy tangos. The question was, who were they? He hoped to find out. “I need some answers to what that was. Go clear the area and find anyone who may know,” he ordered.
A half dozen unknown men sprinted from a barn nearby.
“Get them. I want them alive!” Gordon ordered over the radio.
John walked up next to him and said, “Looks like we’ll get some answers.”
“That’s if they surrender. I don’t want to fuck around. If they fight, kill them; if they surrender, then bring them in,” Gordon said as he continued to watch the unfolding situation through the lenses of his binoculars.
“What will you do with them?” Bernard asked, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.
Gordon craned his head back and looked at him. “Not a good time.”
Bernard was insistent. He thrust a small recorder in Gordon’s face and again asked, “Mr. President, what will you do with the prisoners? Do you plan on interrogating them?”
Gordon lowered the binoculars, turned and asked, “Do you not fucking hear? Bad timing.”
“But, Mr. President.”
John snatched the recorder from Bernard’s chubby hand and turned it off. “Like the man said, bad timing.”
“I’m authorized by the chairwoman to gather inciteful news for the people,” Bernard said defensively.
Gordon ignored Bernard and went back to overseeing the capture of the fleeing men.
“That’s all fine and dandy but you need to step back,” John said, standing in front of Bernard.
“I’m authorized—”
“Well, now you’re unauthorized. Escort him out of here,” John said to several soldiers, who promptly grabbed Bernard by the arms and dragged him away.
“Will you torture the prisoners?” Bernard yelled as he was being taken away.
Annoyed, Gordon lowered the binoculars, turned in Bernard’s direction and said, “Bring him and put him in my vehicle.”
“What are you doing?” John asked.
“I’m going to show him what the real world looks like,” Gordon said to John.
John chuckled and said, “Here we go.”
The soldiers tossed Bernard in the Humvee.
Gordon got in, pointed to the smoldering house and ordered, “Take me down there.”
Vaughn grinned and said, “Roger that.”
McCall, Idaho, Republic of Cascadia
Luke stormed into the house. “Mom?”
“In the bedroom,” Samantha said.
He was marching to her room when Haley stepped out and said, “Seneca is dead. She was blown up.”
Luke paused. “Seneca is dead? She was at the Bistro?”
“She’s dead and Mommy’s upset,” Haley said and went back into her room.
He had come home ready to challenge Samantha on ordering him home in the middle of a patrol. He assumed she had freaked out after the word came down about the Bistro, but now it made sense. He took a deep breath and knocked on her door.
“Come in,” Samantha said.
He found her sitting on the bed, her face and eyes swollen from crying. “Hi.”
“I’ve got some bad news,” she said.
He walked over and sat next to her. “I heard about the Bistro. Haley just said Seneca was killed.”
“Yeah, it’s so sad,” she said.
“I’m sorry. I know you two were friends.”
“I called you home so we can go see Nelson and pay our respects.”
“Okay, let me go change,” he said and got back up.
“Thanks for coming back and not being mad.”
He was tempted to say he had been until he found out but stopped short of doing it. “I’m fine. I’ll be right back.”
A streak out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She sat up and looked closer out the French doors. She started for the door when she heard pop, pop, pop coming from the front of the house.
Samantha knew exactly what was happening and sprinted out of the bedroom.
Haley, who was in the great room, began to scream.
Luke raced out his room and passed Samantha with his Glock at the ready.
In the great room, they found Haley standing and pointing at an unknown man standing on the other side of the glass.
With a crazed look, the man bolted for the sliding glass and tried to open it only to find it locked.
Luke ran up to the door, the pistol extended out in front of him.
The man stared down the muzzle but stood his ground. Would this kid shoot him? Unwilling to risk it, he dashed away towards the far end of the house.
Luke was determined to pursue the man, unlocked the door and ran out.
“Luke, no!” Samantha called out. With Luke gone, Samantha followed her training. She locked the door, took Haley by the hand and headed back to her bedroom. There she put Haley in the walk-in closet and grabbed a shotgun that was placed there. Armed and ready, she and Haley sat in the back of the closet. This was her safe room. There was only one way in or out. If anyone was to come for her and Haley, they’d end up with double-aught buck in their chest.
Pop, pop, pop could be heard from the front of the house, followed by the distinct sound of a snowmobile.
Samantha sat; she didn’t move.
Haley clung to her but was now calm.
“It will be okay, honey,” Samantha said in a calming voice.
“I know,” Haley said.
; Curious as to how she’d answer, Samantha asked, “Will Luke be okay?”
Haley didn’t reply.
Samantha looked at her with fear in her eyes. “Honey, will Luke be okay?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Haley said with her gaze to the floor.
Samantha stood up. “Stay here.” She ran out of the closet.
The engine of another snowmobile could be heard from the front.
Samantha headed down the hall to the front door. She stopped at the window closest the door and peered out just in time to see Luke speed off on the snowmobile. “Luke, no!” she exclaimed and opened the door seconds too late.
Luke took off in the direction of the other snowmobile.
Samantha was frantic. What should I do? she asked herself. Bodies lay spread out on the driveway, the blood from their wounds turning the snow dark red. Feeling vulnerable outside her house, she came back in, locked the door and found the radio. Who do I call? Gordon was gone and Nelson was in mourning. Like a blanket being ripped off on a cold night, a chill spread across her body. She was alone with no one to reach out to. She paced back and forth chewing her fingernails. On the kitchen counter, she spotted a handheld radio and ran for it. She turned it on, keyed the handset and said, “Anyone out there, this is Samantha. Please help. Anyone out there, this is Samantha. We’ve been attacked!”
Nine miles east of Lewiston, Idaho, Republic of Cascadia
“Do you feel you hold any responsibility for what happened here?” Bernard asked, his recorder again in Gordon’s face.
“Just shut up,” Gordon said.
“Do you believe what happened here and what’s happening in McCall are related and that your inaction to send the army right away to deal with Western Canada has made Cascadia less secure?” Bernard asked.
Gordon was riding shotgun and looked back at Bernard in the backseat and said, “You’re the reason people hate the media and journalists. Could your questions possibly be more slanted?”
“Answer the questions…sir.”
“I’m not sure what Elizabeth told you, but you’re here only at my discretion,” Gordon said.
Vaughn slowly approached the house.
“Stop in front of the house,” Gordon ordered.
“All tangos captured. Over,” a voice over the radio said.
“Tell them to bring them here,” Gordon ordered Vaughn.
Vaughn radioed the message.
“Come with me,” Gordon said to Bernard.
Both men exited the Humvee.
Gordon led Bernard to a small clearing near the house. He looked at him and asked, “What would you do with these prisoners?”
“I don’t understand,” Bernard said.
“You’re full of loaded questions, agenda-driven questions. There’s the appearance they’re meant to say I’m wrong and that you know what’s right.”
“Not true.”
“Bullshit, you think this is my fault. Your question in the vehicle was a judgement not a question. So I ask you. What would you do with these men?”
“It’s my job to be impartial, to gather the information so that the people can be informed,” Bernard said with a self-righteous tone.
“You’re impartial?” Gordon mocked.
“Yes, I’m a journalist,” Bernard said proudly.
“Do you think if Jacques wins, he’ll let you report the news impartially? Huh? Do you think he will recognize your rights to free speech?”
“I don’t take sides. It’s important—”
“You don’t take sides? Are you serious?” Gordon asked. He wanted to seem shocked but he wasn’t. He had encountered this same smug and elitist attitude before.
“For the people to know what’s really happening, I must separate myself, stand outside of it all.”
“You really don’t know what’s at risk here, do you?”
“My job is to report news.”
“So how would you report this?” Gordon asked.
“Well, we have suspected enemy forces here who seemed to attack your men.”
“Are you really hearing the garbage falling out of your mouth? Suspected? Does that look suspected? Seemed? They did attack us. And you use the word our?”
“You don’t have any evidence the prisoners were part of this? You also don’t know the motives of the people who did shoot at you? Maybe they thought you were going to hurt them and they were just defending themselves.”
Gordon laughed and said, “Un-fucking-believable.”
A squad of Cascadian soldiers brought the prisoners up to Gordon. The squad leader approached Gordon and said, “We found this item on that man there.” The squad leader handed Gordon a notebook.
Gordon flipped through it and found detailed notes about Western Canadian troop movements prior to the invasion. He showed it to Bernard and said, “Well, I think we have evidence these men are soldiers from Western Canada.”
“Hmm.” Bernard shrugged.
Gordon turned to the prisoners and asked the man who had the notebook, “Are you the senior person here?”
The man didn’t respond; he just stared off with a blank stare.
“So, Bernard, how would you handle this?” Gordon asked, turning back to Bernard.
“I don’t get involved.”
“Just this one time, indulge me.”
“I’m just here to document, nothing more,” Bernard said.
“Come here now and show us all how this should be done, since I’m sure you think none of us military men know how to properly wage war.”
Bernard grunted and walked over. He looked at the prisoner Gordon had singled out and asked, “Are you with Western Canada?”
“No, no, no,” Gordon said.
“I’m asking—”
“We already know he’s with Jacques. We have proven that.”
Bernard began to get nervous and fidget. “Why were you running away? Were you scared?”
“Is that a serious question? Pretend you need to get information, critical information,” Gordon said.
Several of the Cascadian soldiers began to chuckle.
“Which one of you can tell me why you’re here?” Bernard said more firmly.
None of the prisoners spoke.
“Are you here to hurt us, or do you think you’ve come to help us?” Bernard asked.
More Cascadian soldiers laughed.
“This isn’t an interview. You’re interrogating them,” Gordon said with a smile. He was beginning to enjoy the humiliation he was putting Bernard through.
“It’s important to first respect these men. They’re humans and they more than likely feel strongly that their cause is right. If we recognize that, they will open up to us as to why they’re here,” Bernard insisted.
“Let’s follow your logic. Please continue with the interrogation,” Gordon said, folding his arms.
“Please—” Bernard said, beginning his next question but was interrupted by a burst of laughter from the Cascadian soldiers.
Gordon raised his hand in a sign for them to be quiet.
“Thank you, I can’t properly ask these men questions if you’re interrupting me,” Bernard snapped.
“Please…continue,” Gordon said, purposely using the word please.
“Um, please know that we mean you no harm. We just need to understand why you’re this far south. Can you tell me?”
The prisoners looked at each other but remained silent.
“Did you come here to help or hurt us?” Bernard asked.
One of the prisoners, a young man, said, “This is our land. We’re here to take it back.”
“Why do you think it’s your land?” Bernard asked.
“It’s our ancestral land, and you stole it,” the young prisoner blasted.
“Well, if you go back further, this is really native people’s land. How do you think they would feel about your claim?”
“This is ours and we’re aiming to take it back,” the young man said.
&
nbsp; “Enough, we’re wasting time,” Gordon said. He walked over and said, “Why are you here? And don’t answer with his bullshit. Have you been sent to harass the local population?”
The prisoners stayed quiet.
“What is your mission?” Gordon asked.
Silence.
“Are there more of you?”
Silence.
“I’m going to ask nicely one more time; then I’ll get creative. Has Jacques sent small detachments like yours south to cause mayhem? Is that your mission?”
Silence.
Gordon sighed. He looked at Bernard and asked, “What should I do now?”
“Just keep asking. That young man there seems like he wants to talk. We just need to show we respect them.”
“We don’t have all day. I need to know if these guys and the others in McCall are part of a campaign. The prisoner in McCall didn’t know. We need to know now if we should expect more of this along our way. I’d also like to know how things are in Sandpoint. You know, simple and silly things like how their defenses are.”
“It begins by not berating them and showing them equal respect. If we treat them poorly, we’ll only make more of them,” Bernard said.
“Be nice, that’s your strategy?”
“Not nice but don’t be cruel.”
“Should I get them coloring books and puppies?”
“I’m not saying that.”
Gordon’s phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and saw it was Gunny. He turned to Bernard and said, “Give me a second.” He walked off and answered it. “What’s up?”
“They attacked your house,” Gunny said.
Gordon’s eyes widened and his grip on the phone tightened. “Is my family safe?”
“Yes, but Luke, he went after them,” Gunny said.
“What happened?”
“Our theory was off. They attacked your house with eight men. They killed all of your security. It appears one of their men survived and was the one trying to get inside the house. Luke engaged him. The man fled on a snowmobile and Luke pursued. We haven’t had contact with Luke.”
“For how long?”
“About thirty minutes.”
“Find him, and find every last one of those fuckers and gut them in the public square,” Gordon barked.
Everyone looked in Gordon’s direction after hearing him yell.
The New World (Book 7): Those Who Remain Page 9