"Nice to meet you, sir."
"Can I recommend the next time you boys roll into town you don't go sneaking up on anyone?"
"You're the first people who haven't shot at us as soon as they spotted that," observed Erik with a nod toward the M-ATV. Now that he stood out in the open, he spotted at least a dozen armed men just on this side of the M-ATV. He had to assume there was at least another truck load or two on the north side. Inwardly he cringed. They were trapped.
"These are dangerous times we live in, Mr. Larsson—"
"Erik."
Sheriff Jonston nodded. "Fine." He turned back to Ted
Ted put his hands on his hips. "Sheriff, I think we caused enough trouble here for you for one day. If you don't mind, I think it would be best for everyone if we just got on our way." Ted motioned to get inside the M-ATV and Erik turned to do so.
The sheriff cleared his throat and brought him to stop. "Well, let's not be too hasty now."
Erik and Ted shared a look before Ted turned to the sheriff. "Excuse me?"
The sheriff placed his hands up in a placating gesture. "I ain't arguing with you that we could have had one helluva morning just now." He put his hands down and gripped the wide pistol belt at his waist. "Ain't' gonna lie," he said in a lower voice for only Ted and Erik to hear, "I've had a hard enough time controlling these rednecks lately, but that gun you boys got on top sure as hell got everybody to stand down real quick."
Erik couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he thought about Brin. "Yeah, she has that effect on people."
The sheriff snorted. "I imagine she does." The man's face grew somber. "But I'm afraid I can't just let you roll-on outta here. Things are…complicated."
"How so?" asked Ted in a voice Erik knew meant nothing but trouble for anyone who opposed them.
I knew we shouldn't have stopped here. I knew we should've just kept going. Dammit.
"See, me and the boys were en route to a mission."
"A mission?" asked Ted.
"You interrupted all that and put a whole lot of good lives in danger."
"Look, sheriff, I'm sorry my wife aimed that gun at you–" Erik began.
The sheriff waved him off. "I ain't talking about that, son. We got trouble in town. Big trouble. Some outsiders—real bad seeds, if you know what I mean—rolled in to town a few months back. I didn't want to let them stay, but the mayor can be persuasive when he wants to." The sheriff looked at the ground. "Could be."
Erik shot a glance at Ted. We don't need this. Whatever the hell's going on here, we need to go.
Ted's eyes agreed. "I'm sorry to hear that, Sheriff Jonston, but we–"
Jonston took off his hat. "I know, I know—you got your own mission. Don't make much sense to me, you carrying around a bunch of women and children inside that thing," sheriff said, "but you boys got to understand, the mayor and the city leaders—including their families—are all locked up in the town jail. The boys and I are mountin' a rescue operation. Today."
Ted sighed. "I'm sorry to hear that, sheriff, but I don't—"
"I don't think you understand the gravity of the situation Mr. Jensen," said the sheriff. "There's 27 souls in that jail scheduled to be executed today."
Families...God dammit.
Erik recognized the look on Ted's face. They couldn't just leave all the innocents to their fate. Their desire to make the transit north easier on themselves had delayed the strike force from liberating their targets.
"Way I see it, whether you like it or not, you boys are involved now. If we don't get set up in time, if we don't pull this off…"
"Them sons of bitches got my baby girl," said the sketchy local who’d first spotted Erik. "Six years old next week."
"This here's Travis McDermott." The Sheriff said. "I understand his daughter was having a sleepover party with one of the alderman's kids. They're all rounded up together."
"Sheriff, if you knew half of what we've been through to get here," Erik began.
"Son, I'm sure you had a rough time, just like the rest of us. Right now I can't worry about that—I got 27 people in that town up yonder," he said jerking his head north, "that'll die if I don't lead these men into battle and rescue them." He glanced at the M-ATV.
"You boys looking for a new car? Supplies?"
Erik and Ted glanced each other again. Erik looked down and kicked at the dirt as Ted replied.
"That's right."
Sheriff Jonston took a deep breath. "Well, I already told you I can't let you just walk off with some cars. Things the way they are, that could very well be the straw that broke the camel's back. I fought hard to maintain law and order in Hull County since the lights went out. Dunham ain't my only responsibility, but it's the biggest problem I got right now. Word gets out I let you roll through here and take whatever you want, the shit will literally hit the fan."
So you're the one behind all the potholes. No wonder I don't feel too good about this.
Erik glanced into the dealership parking lot. All those cars. All they had to do was get here 20 minutes earlier, or a few minutes later, and they could have had their pick of the litter and on their way around this godforsaken town.
Ted folded his arms, an awkward movement in light of the body armor he wore. "Sheriff, I've been around long enough to know when a man's got something to say. What's your proposition?"
The sheriff polished his sunglasses for a moment and watched Ted with an unwavering gaze. "As many boys I got, it'll st...l be a near thing to take that jail. I was telling the truth when I said I lost most of my force." He checked his reflection in the mirrored sunglasses and put them back on.
"I only got a couple deputies left—folks with proper training and all. Most of these boys are just local kids and farmers. They're all right with huntin' rifles, but ain't nobody seen battle. You two on the other hand," Sheriff Jonston said, "just dropped into my lap by the good grace of God Almighty with that tank on wheels."
Erik closed his eyes. Here it comes.
"I suggest a trade. Goods for services. You bring that beast of yours with us into town, help me and my boys free our people and put an end to these rabble-rousers once and for all, and in return I'll give you a couple vehicles in that lot there," he said gesturing at the car dealership, "filled up with as much supplies and gas as you can carry. Then you can be on your way with my thanks and blessing."
Erik could see Ted thinking it over. He glanced at the M-ATV, their home for the past few weeks. "What about that?" Erik said quietly.
"Well," the sheriff said slowly, his eyes appraising the army vehicle like a thoroughbred horse. "She looks a little rough around the edges. You boys definitely seen some action lately. I tell you what—you let me have her and any ammo you got for that big gun on top and we'll call it even. After we rescue my people."
"Just like that?" Erik asked.
"Just like that," said the sheriff in a dead even tone. "If the army comes looking for you, I'll explain everything."
Erik ignored the lawman. The question was for Ted not him. Ted's eyes met Erik's and they stared at each other for a long moment. Finally Ted gave a barely perceptible nod. It was the answer that Erik knew was coming.
The moment the sheriff mentioned a proposition, he knew the only way they'd get out of here and headed north again was through the sheriff's good graces. They were outnumbered and outgunned. Their only hope was either climbing in the M-ATV and rolling through the men around them like a tank or fall under siege and be starved out.
In either situation, 27 people would die and be additional blood on their hands. As much as Erik wanted to go north, he didn't know if he could live with that. The air left his lungs and he stared down at the ground, defeated.
"Sheriff, you drive a hard bargain, but I don't see how we can refuse. My CO won't like this," he said with a glance at the M-ATV, "but Captain Winters certainly wouldn't like finding out that we walked off and left 27 civilians to be executed."
Erik forced
himself to keep a straight face. He knew Winders had died in Orlando, but the sheriff didn’t.
"You boys got radios you can use to contact your people, right?" asked the sheriff.
Ted nodded. "Assuming there's anyone left to listen, yeah. Besides what's in there," he said gesturing at the M-ATV.
"I tell you what, you help us through this and I swear to God, I don't care if it's the President himself—I will stand up and testify on your behalf."
He stuck out his hand. Erik stared at it for a moment, then shook it. "I can see the pain in your face, son. I know what this means to you. You look like someone who'd rather cut off an arm stay here and help. I admire the gumption it takes to do it anyway."
Erik nodded silently. "Now what?"
The sheriff hooked his thumbs under his belt and leaned back on his heels. "Now we gotta discuss strategy. Having you boys along for the ride changes everything."
Chapter 13
Vigilantes
MINISTER OF DEFENSE PO Sin watched Minister of the Interior Shin Ho as he perused the latest report. It wasn’t good. Po Sin had snagged the incoming transmission and already read it. It detailed the imminent failure of their mission in the American southwest.
“These guerrilla fighters are having more of an impact than you led me to believe.”
Po Sin grunted and tried to affect an air of nonchalance. “Mere flies in the face of the dragon. They are of little consequence.”
Shin Ho stared at his friend over the top of the grisly reports. “Ten dead here, twenty there, five over here…the numbers are adding up and they just don’t stop. They’re not giving our people a chance to rest and recuperate.”
Po Sin grunted. "The remnants of the vigilante group we slaughtered in Arizona. These Regulators."
"Vigilantes," Shin Ho spat. "Brigands. We killed their leaders and most of their people. Our artillery wiped their pathetic mountain fortress off the face of the earth—and yet the survivors still torment us. They refuse to give up."
Po Sin frowned, hiding his expression behind his report. Of course not, you fool, we’re invading their country. Our people would do the same if their roles were reversed.
“Our plans are stagnating as more and more of these groups appear out of nowhere.”
Po Sin dropped the paper and lit a cigarette despite the ‘no smoking’ sign on Shin Ho’s desk. “Inconveniences, nothing more.” He blew a puff of smoke up over the desk.
Shin Ho grunted. “Inconveniences. I hardly think the families of our slain will agree.”
Po Sin held the cigarette an inch from his mouth. “Since when do we care about what their families think? Those boys were proud to serve the People. They should be proud their sons died for the People.”
Shin Ho shook his head slowly. “So cynical.”
Po Sin blew more smoke into the air, creating a blue-gray barrier in the space between them. “So naïve to think they can actually win.”
“What are your plans to stop these guerrillas? They call themselves—”
Po Sin leaned forward to rub out his cigarette on Shin Ho's desk. “I couldn't care less what they call themselves. Regulators, Ghosts…they are barbarians. Nothing more. We will crush them.”
Shin Ho stared at the pile of ash and the crumpled cigarette on his desk. “That’s your plan? ‘Crush them’?”
Po Sin stood. "Call it your plan if you like—you took control of this operation. You'll get all the glory, anyway. I suppose it's only fair for me to share in the blame.”
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Po Sin paused at the door and pulled another cigarette from his silver case. He held it unlit between two fingers and examined it. Even he wouldn’t risk walking down the corridor with a lit cigarette. The younger generation of staffers would be all too quick to report the unauthorized vice to the Party snitches.
In the good old days…
“I asked you a question, Minister.”
Aren’t you high and mighty? Three steps below the Supreme Leader and you think you're suddenly his right-hand man. “I go to study the reports in detail so that I may present you with an updated plan, Honorable Minister,” Po Sin said, bowing deeply. He stood, replaced the cigarette and snapped the case shut.
“While you’re at it, work up an exit strategy for me to present to the Supreme Leader.”
Po Sin froze, his hand on the doorknob. Perfect! He looked back, feigning confusion. “Exit strategy? What are you talking about?”
Shin Ho sighed. He suddenly seemed ten years older. “The Supreme Leader is no longer fully confident in our ability to attain victory over the Americans. He wants a way to withdraw and save face.”
Po Sin returned to his seat. This is too good to be true. If things fall apart, you will get the blame. “Hmmm.” Po Sin leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. “Have you reached out to that weakling in the White House?”
It was Shin Ho's turn to look confused. “Jones? No. Why? He is nothing but an usurper. Our agents report he will not long sit in the Oval Office. They are close to finding the next in line.”
Must I spell it out for you? “He is in a position of weakness.”
“We are too—”
“But he doesn’t know that." Po Sin pursed his lips, trying to appear thoughtful. "See if you can negotiate a truce, or even better: a peace treaty. Something to give us breathing room to resupply the expedition. Give them time to reach the coast and establish the beach head for the Second Wave. If we can last until they arrive on shore, it’ll be too late for the Americans to do anything.”
Shin Ho grunted. “Perhaps." He drummed his fingers on the wide desk, staring at the crumpled cigarette in the corner. Finally he nodded. "Yes. It might work. Especially if we can convince the Russians to expand their conquered territory. That would focus most of the attention on the East Coast.” He looked up at Po Sin and smiled. “It just might work.” He reached for his phone.
“Wei? Yes. Get me the President of the United States." He grinned at Po Sin. "Yes, I understand what time it is—he will want to speak with me, I promise. Thank you.”
Po Sin stood and offered a sincere bow this time. “I will leave you to it.” He smiled to himself as he left the Minister’s office.
I’ve given you plenty of rope. Let’s see if you can manage to hang yourself, old friend.
Chapter 14
Pressure
A YOUNG STAFFER OPENED the door to the President's office and smiled, delivering a stack of papers. "Morning briefing's here, sir."
Daniel looked up from the maps spread out on his desk. He'd been closely following the trail of Stapleton and his army as they headed south out of New York. What's your name? "Ah…you seem to be in a good mood."
"I know we’re not supposed to read the briefing notes before you get them, sir, but Tom dropped it when he handed it to me and we had to put all the pages back and I saw—”
Daniel smiled and took this stack of papers. "Don't worry about it. Let's see what we have for today, shall we?"
The first page had a brief note about the Rebels. The number of casualties estimated in New York City was staggering. The second page held a brief damage estimate.
Daniel whistled. "That's a lot of zeros…" New York City had sustained a tremendous amount of damage. It was about the equivalent of having two major hurricanes strike the city back to back. Trying to find funds to help pay for that was a headache in the making.
He scrolled through the document, looking whatever it was that had brought a smile to his staffer's face. In big bold letters, the report explained how the outer suburbs of Philadelphia had received power—reliable, stable power—and that PECO predicted the entire city have power by the end of the month.
Daniel's face lit up. If Malcolm could delay Stapleton for even a few days—just to prevent him from getting inside the city—he might find the citizens of Philadelphia to be useful allies against the rogue general. Based on how Malcolm's people had thus far behaved,
Philly would welcome Stapleton with open arms.
There was a lot of uncertainties, but by the time they could be worked out, he might just save Philadelphia the fate that had befallen New York and Chicago.
The phone on his desk rang before he could finish the thought.
He noticed which line had flashed—the secure line from his switchboard. That could be good or bad. He looked up at the staffer. "I'm sorry," he said, gesturing at the door. "This one's private."
"Of course, sir," she said, nodding as she backed out of the room.
He hit the button activating the line after the door had closed. "Mr. President?" asked his secretary in a high voice.
My God, this one sounds like she's in high school. I have to find somebody more suitable than her. He would've loved it if Shaniqua had decided to stay on after President Reed's death, but she'd been fiercely loyal to the old man and hated Suthby with a passion. After she left, they'd gone through two more switchboard operators before they settled on the new girl, Marylyn Kretch.
"Yes, Marylyn."
"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir, but I have a Russian General Kristanoff on the phone?"
"Kristanoff…that name sounds familiar…" Daniel muttered to himself.
"He was the commanding general of their forces in New York, sir."
Shit. Of course he would be the first phone call I get today. "Okay, Marylyn, go ahead and put him through. I was expecting this call." He waited for the line to click, establishing the connection.
"General Kristanoff! Let me be the first to offer my sincere condolences on the loss of—"
"Spare me the theatrics, Mr. President. We both know you care nothing for my men."
Daniel cleared his throat. Here we go. "If there is anything I can do—"
"You can destroy Stapleton!"
Daniel thought for a moment. "I assure you, general there is nothing I would like more in the world than to destroy that rogue general. If it's of any consequence, I would like to offer you the opportunity to hunt down and destroy—"
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