by Payne, T. L.
“A what?”
“It’s a six-millimeter-thick steel box, basically.”
Will was relieved to know that the government wasn’t totally in the dark and some technological capabilities still existed, but all he cared about at the moment was finding Cayden.
“That’s fascinating. I just want my son, Stephens. Where’s Cayden?” Will said.
“He’s safe.” She picked up the laptop and stuffed it into a black metal case.
The two soldiers returned and stood in the doorway. “Staff Sergeant Woodward is missing, but someone saw Colonel Edwards about five minutes ago. He was headed to the TOC,” one of the soldiers said.
Stephens slid the computer case off the table and clutched it to her chest. “We have to find him before he gets away.”
The soldiers stepped into the hall, and the taller of the two said something into a mic attached to his shirt’s collar. He stepped back and said, “He never made it. He’s in the wind.”
“Get hold of Lieutenant Sharp. Tell him I need his team to stop Colonel Edwards and Staff Sergeant Woodward.”
Betley leaned with both hands on the table. He was in pain. It was written all over his face.
“Were their names on the list?” Betley asked.
“You know I can’t tell you that,” Stephens said.
“I’m on your team. I’ve been working on these issues. Kim Yang was my informant.”
“That’s nice, Betley, but this is not the same.”
“Where’s Special Agent in Charge Rybeck? He can tell you.”
“He’s dead. They hit FBI headquarters that first day. They tried to infiltrate this base, but they underestimated the number of military personnel there would be.”
“You’re CIA. This is an FBI investigation. I should be read in,” Betley said.
“I’ve been working on this case for over two years, Betley. I’d just returned from southern Mexico. I’ve been down there for two months tracking down the cartel members that have been helping the Chinese nationals sneak across the border.”
“And what did they tell you?”
“I received a list of names. My team spent the better part of a month verifying the names on the list with Mexican Immigration and Customs and attempting to track them down within Mexico.”
“How many did you round up?” Betley asked.
“Not enough.”
“Weren’t you able to track them through their communications? You guys have a big database that stores every phone call, email, and text. How’d you miss this one?” Isabella asked.
“They weren’t communicating via those methods.”
“How were they coordinating things then? You don’t pull this off without being able to talk to your people,” Will said.
“They used apps to coordinate things and running all communications through the Chinese and Mexican consulates. That is why we had to shut down the Chinese Consulate last month. It was the second time in the last few years that we caught them moving CCP spy information in diplomatic pouches between consulates and Beijing.”
Will heard footsteps outside the room. Stephens stepped through the doorway. “Sharp said to get the case to the hangar.”
“Is he meeting us there?” Stephens asked.
“They went after Colonel Edwards.”
“I’m going to need your help, Private First Class Johnson.”
“Yes, ma’am. We’ll be your escort,” the soldier said.
“Stephens, what about my son?” Will said, stepping through the doorway.
“He’s safe. I’ll take you to him. Come with us,” Stephens said.
“No. I want you to tell me where to find Cayden. Now!”
“Help me get this to the hangar, and I’ll tell you where he is.”
Will lost it. He grabbed Stephens by the throat and shoved her against the wall. “You will tell me now or so help me—”
“Will, stop!” Isabella yelled, pulling on his arm. “Stop. That won’t help.”
The two soldiers grabbed him from behind and shoved him to the floor followed by a boot slamming into the middle of his back. He struggled to breathe under the soldier’s weight.
“You have no right to hold my son. He’s a damn kid. You’re going to get us all killed.”
“Just help me, Will. Help me get this case to the hangar, and I will get you and Cayden away from here, I promise.”
He didn’t trust the woman as far as he could throw her, but what choice did she leave him. It would take days for him to search every building and hangar on the base.
“Okay. Okay. Where the hell is the hangar?”
Twenty-Two
Will
Day Six
Stephens and the two soldiers led them to an office at the end of the corridor, where she retrieved a pistol from a locked box in a desk drawer.
“I need a weapon, Stephens,” Betley said. “They took mine when I arrived.”
Stephens glanced at Hollingsworth. “Can we get him a weapon?”
“I’m not authorized to arm civilians, ma’am.”
“I’m not a civilian, private. I’m a federal agent.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I’m not authorized to provide weapons to none military personnel.”
“How am I supposed to defend myself,” Betley said.
“We’ve got you, sir,” Hollingsworth said.
“Stephens?”
“I’m sorry, Betley. Stay close. We need to move quickly.”
Will was as pissed as Betley. He and Isabella hadn’t asked to be there. Stephens and the military had an obligation to arm them or protect them and he didn’t feel two soldiers could provide adequate protection against armed insurgents.
Stephens turned right and was headed toward the front of the building.
“We can’t go out the front. A sniper has zeroed in on those doors,” Wallace said.
“How many insurgents are we dealing with?” Betley asked.
“Fifty, maybe more. They’re hitting and then disappearing into the neighborhoods on the west side of the freeway. One will strike with RPGs and rifle fire, then drop back, allowing another group to advance. Without eyes in the sky, it’s impossible to track them.”
The soldiers rushed them through the maze of corridors toward the exit leading to the MSST building.
“None of our drones are operating?” Betley asked.
“Very few. The ones that are working are monitoring the Gulf of Mexico,” Stephens said.
Wallace craned his neck and shot Stephens a dirty look.
“Wait, you have drones here?” Isabella asked.
“The 147th Reconnaissance Wing is stationed here, and they have MQ-1B Predator Unmanned Aerial Systems and MQ-9 Reapers. I don’t know if any of them are operable. That’s classified. I can’t say more,” Hollingsworth said.
“So some stuff survived the EMP?” Will asked.
“Some,” Stephens said.
“You can’t or won’t elaborate?”
“I can’t. I’m not involved with that aspect of the mission. My job is to find and eliminate the insurgency. The military’s role is to protect our borders. I do pray that enough of their equipment survived for them to do their jobs.”
The soldiers didn’t chime in. Maybe they didn’t know, or they were more tight-lipped than Stephens.
“EMP-proof hangars. All metal with no outside lines penetrating the building?” Betley asked.
“I just don’t know. That’s not my area.”
They paused at the end of the hall and checked for intruders. Thankfully, the corridor was empty.
The soldiers stopped at the door. “Stack up. We need to make it down the walkway and across the street in front of the flight museum before stopping. Is everyone ready?”
If the military hadn’t taken his rifle and gear, Will would be ready, but going out there without it, he felt naked. He sure hoped Stephens and the two soldiers were good marksmen.
“All right, let’s go.” Hollingsworth threw
back the door and turned to his left. The others followed close behind him, running down a short walkway between the buildings. The soldiers made a right at the corner of the MSST building and proceeded along its east side where a line of newer-model Ford trucks sat useless due to the EMP. Stephens, clutching the black case containing the computer to her chest, quickly passed Betley and took off down the walkway behind the soldiers. Will thought they were going to leave them all behind. They weren’t injured like Will, Isabella, and Betley. There was no way for them to keep up.
The lawn between the MSST and the single-story brick building next to it was filled with a mix of old and new army vehicles and equipment. Some were the old olive drab, and others the desert sand-colored. Small Conex shipping containers were interspersed throughout. Will wondered if any of them contained weapons or ammunition.
Stephens slowed before stepping between the last two trucks in the row. “Hurry!” she yelled over her shoulder. She and the soldiers sprinted across the open lawn separating the MSST building from the street. The sound of small arms fire could be heard in the distance, followed by bursts of automatic gunfire. Will hoped that the insurgents stayed away, but he knew things could quickly turn, and they could be caught in the fight. The wind shifted, and black smoke drifted their way. The entire fuel farm along the road had to be on fire for there to be that much smoke. As Will grew closer to the road, a gaping hole was evident in the front of the museum.
“Stephens, stop. I need a second,” Betley said, bending and placing his hands on his knees although he wasn’t gasping for air nearly as much as Will. None of them were. Will was regretting letting himself get so out of shape. He’d never been so keenly aware of how important being able to move quickly was. He needed to take better care of his body.
“We need to keep going, Betley. It’s not safe out here in the open,” Stephens said.
“I’ll help you, Betley,” Isabella said, dropping back and sliding an arm under his.
“I’ll get him, Isabella. You’re not a hundred percent yourself,” Will said.
Betley shot him the stink eye like they were in some type of competition for her attention, but he wasn’t aware that she’d just learned her boyfriend had been brutally murdered, so Will dismissed it.
As Will and Betley stepped off the sidewalk, several rounds ripped up the grass in front of them. Stephens ducked and Isabella dropped down with her hands over her head as the two soldiers began returning fire. Will turned to run toward the empty bay of the MSST but Betley was dragging his foot, making it difficult to move quickly.
“Isabella, move! Hurry!” Will yelled.
Isabella passed them and held open a door as round after round peppered the side of the building. The insurgents were either terrible shots or they were too far away to be very accurate. Either way, Will was grateful. Stephens remained behind with the soldiers, returning fire as Will, Betley, and Isabella retreated inside.
“Stephens!” Betley yelled.
Stephens and the soldiers began backing toward the building. While the soldiers guarded the door, the others looked for another way out.
Will stomped back and forth near the rear of the bay. “Damn, I need a weapon. This is bullshit.”
“He’s right, Stephens. We aren’t going to make it to the hangars without weapons,” Betley said.
“Well, look around, Betley. Where the hell would I get a rifle?” she snapped.
“What are we going to do? We can’t just sit here and wait for them to blow us up. We need to get the hell out of here and away from the city,” Isabella said.
“How far away is an armory?” Betley asked.
“How the hell am I supposed to know. I’ve never been here before,” Stephens said.
“There’s an ASP on the other side of the guard station there,” Hollingsworth said. Will followed his finger, hoping it was nearby. It wasn’t. It was at least a couple hundred feet. Not that far really, unless you’re trying to avoid getting shot.
“Where are Sharp and the other soldiers?” Isabella asked.
“They went to help hold the gates.”
“Maybe we can go another way,” Isabella said. “Can’t we head north until we are far enough away and then head east.”
“They’ve overrun the north perimeter,” Stephens said.
“Wallace and I will have to hold them off while the four of you make a run for the museum,” Hollingsworth said.
“I don’t like that idea,” Will said.
“Neither do I, but we don’t have much choice.”
“Betley, you’re going to have to run like hell,” Stephens said.
“I’ll do my best,” he replied.
Hollingsworth went first. He moved to the end of the building and raised his rifle. “I’ve got at least four hostiles,” he said.
“Where?” Wallace asked, coming up beside him.
“In the aerospace building, side parking lot. Two behind that white SUV and two more behind the sign near the road.”
“You take the sign. I’ll take the SUV,” Wallace said.
“Ma’am. We’re going to go through the bays here and draw their fire away from the road. We’ll join you after we’ve taken out the trash. Wait for us on the east side of the museum,” Hollingsworth said. He and Wallace ducked into the bay that usually contained Coast Guard watercraft and disappeared from Will’s view.
Twenty-Three
Will
Day Six
As soon as Will heard shots being fired, Stephens took off across the grass toward the museum. The tall military vehicles in the parking lot obscured Will’s view, making it impossible to tell if any insurgents were waiting for them there. The near-constant sound of automatic rifle fire told Will there were a significant number of them infiltrating the base. How long before they were overrun? He ran a hand over the top of his close cropped hair and tried to remain focused.
Isabella followed closely behind Stephens, with Will and Betley bringing up the rear. It was all so unreal. How could this be happening on American soil? Every muscle in his body tensed as he anticipated getting shot in the back as they ran across the street. He quickened his stride. That wasn’t how he wanted to go out.
Stephens dropped down behind an army truck and waved for them to hurry. Isabella ran and crouched beside her. Will looked back as he and Betley neared them. Hollingsworth was firing over the top of the hood of a mid-sized sedan. Will tried to see where the enemy was located, but they must have been well concealed. When they reached the truck, Will leaned Betley against the fender while he tried to catch his breath. It hadn’t been that far to run, but he’d held his breath the whole time.
“Where are they?” Isabella asked, craning her neck above the hood to see.
Betley grabbed her arm and pulled her backward, causing her to fall on her butt. “Keep your head down.”
Her brow knit tight, and her jaw clenched as she got to her knees. “I thought he said there were only four of them. What the hell is taking so long?”
“It’s not a video game,” Stephens said sarcastically.
That statement earned her a dirty look from Isabella. He wasn’t sure what Stephens’ problem was, but Will wanted no part of their bickering. His focus remained on finding Cayden. As the gunfire slowed to just a few shots here and there, Will resisted moving to get a look, not wanting to risk taking a bullet. A moment later, Will heard footfalls on concrete and stiffened until he saw Hollingsworth running toward them.
“Where’s Wallace?” Stephens asked.
“Right behind me. Be ready to move,” he said.
A few more shots and Wallace rounded the back of the truck and joined them. “Enemy eliminated. Let’s move out,” he said.
The soldiers moved in a crouch down the row of vehicles and stopped, holding a fist in the air to halt Will and the others. Hollingsworth rose slightly and pulled his rifle to his cheek. He scanned back and forth before declaring the space between the vehicles and the building safe.
When he reached the end of the row of trucks, Will was hesitant to step out into the open. Not knowing how many insurgents were out there or where they were located had every nerve in his body on edge. He didn’t know how the soldiers did this for a living. It took a kind of bravery he didn’t possess. The soldiers were putting their lives on the line for them. All he was doing was trying to survive so he could find his son. He prayed he didn’t fail.
“You ready?” Betley asked.
Will nodded. It was a lie. He was far from ready. He’d never been so ill-prepared in his life. Right then, he vowed to himself that if he somehow made it out of this mess, he’d get prepared, somehow, someway. He’d get armed. It was Texas. There were millions of guns out there. He’d find a way to be ready when trouble found him again, and he knew it would.
“Okay, try not to drag your foot,” Will said.
“I’m trying, man. The damn thing just ain’t cooperating.”
“We need to get you a wheelchair, old man,” Will said as he pushed away from the truck and took off after the others.
“Old man? Look who’s talking. You sound like an eighty-year-old, huffing and puffing like that.”
Will chuckled. “Bro, I’m feeling it today.”
Hollingsworth and Wallace took off toward the next row of vehicles. When they reached them, they surveyed the scene looking for more gunmen before waving for Will and the others to follow. Isabella went first, followed by Will and Betley. Stephens covered them until they were safely across.
Will’s shoulder and ribs were screaming from carrying most of Betley’s weight. He was beginning to feel the effects of the heat and dehydration. A headache was forming behind his eyes, but he had to concentrate on making it safely to the building. He just had to keep putting one foot in front of the other and tune out the pain. Isabella’s face was flushed. He worried for her. She was fighting a wound infection, and pushing too hard could be costly to her, but with gunmen waiting to mow them down, they couldn’t afford to stop and take it slow.