by Hunt, Jack
“Is this how you enter all the time?” Miles asked.
“No, there are three more ways in and out but this is the closest to the main entrance.”
“So what’s the deal with Branson?” he asked.
“It’s under occupation much like Camdenton and surrounding towns.”
“And you’re working with them to gain intel?”
“You got it. Mind your step!” he hollered reaching out and grabbing one guy and pulling him back.
Inside it was damp. Miles could hear water dripping. They followed the rope for the better part of half an hour down a steep slope until it disappeared over an edge. “Okay, folks, listen up. You need to hold on tight for this next part. It requires rappelling down. I assure you though, once you get through this it’s easy the rest of the way. This connects to the seven hundred steps that tourists use to enter the Cathedral Room.”
Close to the edge, Lorenzo had them get into harnesses. Three of them could go at a time. Miles observed closely as each one vanished into blackness. Their voices bounced off the rock.
“You’re up next,” Lorenzo said to Scarlett. Without missing a beat she got into the harness and gave Miles a salute before disappearing over the edge with a howl.
“Now you,” he motioned to Miles and Lucius.
“Come on, man, you must have some stairs around here.”
“Yeah, we do. They’re down there.”
“Look, I’m not good with heights.”
“You’ll be fine,” Lorenzo said, guiding him through what he had to do as Miles slipped into his harness and prepared to go.
Lucius backed up; hands raised. “No. No I can’t.”
“You can’t?” Lorenzo said, looking at the others. “Who brought this guy?”
“He brought himself,” Miles said. He knew saying that would motivate him. “Hey, there’s no shame in being a wuss. You stay here and let the big boys play,” he tossed his own words back at him from earlier on. He let out a laugh as he went over. Sure enough, seconds later he looked up to see Lucius coming down. He cursed all the way down.
Once his feet were on solid ground again, Lucius climbed out of that harness so fast, anyone would have thought it was electrified. Miles slapped him on the back before continuing on. “See, that wasn’t so bad. Though you might want to check your pants, they tore on the way down.”
Lucius quickly reached a hand around and Miles let out a chuckle. He was lying but he was beginning to find the guy a real hoot. “You know, Miles, when this is over, me and you are going to…” He trailed off before squealing like a little girl. “What the fuck is that?”
Flashlight beams shone nearby just in time to see a pinkish reptile scuttle into a dark recess. “It’s the Ozark blind cave salamander. Completely harmless. Though it has been known to attack if it smells fear,” Lorenzo said passing him by. “Oops, there’s another.”
Lucius nearly had a heart attack shifting fast and bulldozing Miles out of the way. They roared with laughter and continued trekking down the manmade staircase into a giant opening that was lit up by multiple lights. Far below they could see people, lots of them. At a rough estimate there had to be anywhere from six hundred to eight hundred people.
“This place is huge,” Scarlett said.
“Yeah, it’s said that you could fit a twenty-story building in here. Apparently for the one-hundredth anniversary of running tours here they flew three hot air balloons around this room. Pretty big, huh?”
While the place was a marvel to behold, Miles was more interested in how they’d managed to get so many people. “Where are they from?”
“Branson, some of the surrounding towns. It’s safe down here. There are even more people but they’re farther down.”
“This goes down further?”
“Oh, yeah, you never been here before? This goes down fifty stories, connects to fourteen other large rooms and passages, the Serpentine Passage, the Gulf of Doom, the Waterfall Room, the Elves Chamber, and so on. We’re using it all.”
How many others were doing the same throughout the nation, scrambling to cave systems to stay out of sight?
“How long have they been here?”
“A few years for some, a couple of months for others. There’s plenty of fresh air running through the system but they come out mostly to get sunshine, hunt, and so forth.”
“Who’s in charge?”
“You’ll see.”
The sound of conversation echoed throughout the large chamber that was over 200 feet high, 225 feet wide, and 400 feet long.
“And keeping this place illuminated?”
“In the day natural sunlight filters through the sinkhole and we use solar lights for the evening. They are switched out every eighteen hours. Besides that we have fresh water from the falls, so the only reason to come up is to hunt and perform perimeter checks.”
There were small solar lights hanging from string draped across the wide cave, giving the whole place a magical look. Inside, thick vegetation with large leaves had grown. In some areas, they had made wooden bunk beds and used large sheets draped across them to provide privacy. Miles saw teenagers kicking a ball around, and girls jumping rope. As they made their way down, many of the people took notice. They were like most, gaunt in appearance, tired, and weathered from the war.
“Maddox,” Lorenzo hollered.
A grizzled individual wearing green tactical pants leaned back in a chair. He was wearing a pair of headphones and twisting a dial on a ham radio. He turned his head and looked up. He slipped off the headphones and set them down before standing with a broad smile. He was a giant of a man topping six foot four, bald with various tribal tattoos covering his arms. Strapped to his back was an AR-15 and he was wearing a green flak vest with grenades and multiple pouches full of magazines. He ambled over and greeted Lorenzo with a hug and a pat on the back. “Glad to see you made it. Any trouble?”
“No. The roads were clear.”
“They must be sleeping on the job again,” he muttered before his gaze washed over them.
“Here they are,” Lorenzo said.
“This is it?”
“Afraid so,” Snow said stepping forward. “Sorry to disappoint.”
He looked past him and toward Miles and he could already see the look on his face, the same question was about to be asked, so instead of giving him that chance he just answered the question. “Yes. I’m him. Next question.”
Maddox’s lip curled. “Humorous as well as heroic. I like that. I imagine you’re hungry?”
“For answers,” Miles said. “What is Operation Green Bird?”
Maddox looked at Lorenzo and he shrugged. “We’ll get to that but let’s eat first.” He stuck his thumb and first finger in his mouth and let out a distinct whistle. Several young boys and girls came hurrying through the crowd, panting, out of breath. “Leo, Sandy, get our guests food and water.” They nodded and took off while he guided them down a few more steps and over to a large table that could have sat ten people. A few minutes later, they were served roasted deer meat, black beans, and they were each given a chunk of torn-off bread. Several bowls of fruit were placed on the table for them to share. Young kids poured water from metal canisters into plastic cups and they were each given a spork utensil. As they ate, Miles continued his line of questioning.
“Operation Green Bird?” Miles asked.
“You really are a go-getter.”
“Let’s just say I don’t like to linger.”
He nodded. “I can appreciate that.” A female with short blonde hair and a round face walked over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “This is my wife, Irene. Irene, this is them.”
“Are there more of you outside?” she asked.
Maddox chuckled. “Apparently not.”
“Good lord. We are in trouble.”
“No, they are. They want to know about Green Bird.”
She took a seat beside him. “Arlo never told you?”
“Arlo has
trust issues,” Miles said. “He said information was given on a need to know basis. And, right now I think I need to know.”
Maddox answered. “We had a feeling that the PLA was on to us, that someone or several people had infiltrated the resistance. To be sure, we put the word out that we would be gathering the heads of the militia together in Springfield for a one-time meeting.”
“I heard they killed them.”
He shook his head as he chewed. “People died but it wasn’t the heads of militia.”
“What?”
“It was a cover for Operation Green Bird.”
“Which is?” Miles asked, getting frustrated by how vague everyone was.
“The rescue of Jo Greene.”
Miles sat back and his brow furrowed.
“Jo who?”
“The daughter of the president of the United States.”
12
Gunnar
Camdenton
Explosions erupted; panic ensued as the PLA rained down destruction on the settlement like the angel of death. Tracer fire lit up the night sky above the ocean of trees as gun turrets mounted on helicopters unleashed hell upon fleeing resistance. Gunnar, Arianna, and one other militia soldier raced through the forest ducking and weaving as the onslaught of gunfire tore up the ground.
It had been a strategic attack and one that may not have been seen until it was too late. Flames flickered in the distance, illuminating their way. They leaped over bodies of the fallen; young, old, the PLA didn’t care who died. This wasn’t an attack to imprison but to wipe them out, payback for the airport raid, and the irony was they used numerous helicopters to pull it off. Gunnar expected to see ground troops moving in on the camp but they were smarter than that. Instead, they just lit the place up; fire streaked through the woods setting ablaze what they once called home.
Despite the unforgiving declaration of war upon them, many resistance members were still holding down the fort, firing back at the monstrous birds as they soared overhead, some releasing explosives that obliterated handfuls of Americans in one fell swoop. “Jud!” Arianna cried out, spotting one of her guys crouched at the foot of a large oak. “Have you evacuated everyone?”
Face smudged up in camo gear, a bandanna around his neck, and an assault rifle in hand, he yelled over the noise of gunfire. “We tried but the explosions have caused a cave-in. There are some buried. We tried to get people out through the forest but they are cutting us off from every angle.”
Arianna patted him on the shoulder. “Bring those birds down,” she yelled as she darted out into the clearing, zigzagging her way over to the mouth of the cave. Gunnar witnessed one of their guys lift an RPG, and a second later an inferno appeared in the sky as a whining helicopter spun down toward earth.
Its collision shook the ground.
Gunnar hurried into the cave to help. He passed by a young mother clutching a bloodied child, she screamed in agony, grief, and loss mingled with anger. Inside, it was a cloud of dust with almost zero visibility. He lifted his shirt over the lower half of his mouth and coughed hard. “Arianna!” he yelled, unable to see a damn thing. A continuous pounding of rounds from on high shook the cave so intensely that the surrounding walls crumbled and the ceiling collapsed in some areas, thickening the air.
“Over here!” she yelled. “Give me a hand.”
Arianna emerged through the dust, it clung to her like a ghostly apparition refusing to let go. She was holding a small child who was either unconscious or dead. Arianna handed the kid off to him and he turned and shuffled back trying not to lose his way. It was so damn thick inside he was finding it hard to breathe.
Gunnar gasped as he breached the mouth of the cave and inhaled fresh air. He set the child down and began performing CPR. “C’mon, kid!” he bellowed as he breathed in air and pumped the child’s chest. A few seconds later the girl started coughing. Gunnar shouted to one of the militia to take over while he went back in. One by one they continued digging out those trapped inside. Their faces were caked with a fine layer of brown residue, some wet, some dry. Many had broken bones, others were covered in grazes but most hobbled out. Those that were unconscious were carried out through a chain they formed with fifteen people. From arm to arm they lifted children as rock crackled around, tiny and large pieces smattering the ground, reminding them at any second the rest could collapse.
When they had gotten as many as they could out, Gunnar emerged to find PLA soldiers fast-roping out of helicopters. He swung his rifle around and opened fire, taking out one guy who fell and dropped on top of another below him. The need to get boots on the ground had put them at a large disadvantage. The helicopter had to stay steady. Big mistake. Another RPG found its target and a helicopter ballooned out in a blaze of fiery reds and orange, raining down chunks of shrapnel, some of which took out the men that had only just moments ago landed.
“Arianna. Come on.”
“There’s still more in there.”
“There’s no time!” he shouted from the mouth of the cave. “We need to get out of here now.”
“I’m not leaving them.”
It was at that moment he realized he’d been wrong. Whatever doubts he had before were challenged as he watched her risk life and limb for those strangers.
Still, he could tell when a battle was lost and they were losing fast. Although the militia was putting up one hell of a fight, it was only a matter of time. They were overwhelmed by a continual barrage of gunfire from above and now the ground. Gunnar bolted back into the cave and navigated through the sludge of dust, coughing as he went until he found her, trying to roll a huge boulder off the arm of someone that was buried. “They’re dead, Arianna. If you don’t leave now so will you.” More rock crumbled around them. “You’ve done what you can. You can’t help the ones you’ve saved if you’re dead.”
He put his arm around her and led her out, going off memory.
As soon as they breached the outside, Jud raced over to help. Even though Arianna was coughing hard, she continued to bellow orders, telling them to evacuate everyone. The problem was they had been blindsided. If they had seen it coming perhaps they could have escaped through the endless tunnels but with that escape avenue cut off, the only option they had left was to run through the forest. Out in the open, they were exposed, moving targets. Easy targets. Gunshot after gunshot exploded, heads disappearing in mists of red on both sides as a final attempt to stop them took place. Horses charged ahead, some without riders. At times it felt as if the PLA was everywhere, striking from every side. Gunnar retaliated, taking out as many as he could.
As they broke out of the tree line, expecting to find the truck, it was gone.
Little had been said as to what the group would do in the event of an attack, only that they would regroup at a farm northwest, on the outskirts of the town called Eugene. It was said to be owned by a collaborator who was hiding Americans below his barn. Whether there was any truth to that was to be discovered. The first rule of thumb was to disperse, head in as many different directions as possible to avoid them being rounded up or followed to the new location.
Gunnar and Arianna pressed on over Highway 54. All around them, survivors, Americans bounded across fields, some ducking in ditches, others hiding inside abandoned vehicles. Chased on their home turf, there was no strategy except don’t be caught. They darted for the nearest abandoned building, a Super 8 just off 52.
Out of the forest, the noise of gunfire soon grew distant but the fear of being captured didn’t. Gunnar could still see choppers overhead, huge spotlights illuminating the fields as they took out those fleeing.
Panic caught in his chest, the thought of being caught in the open.
They darted across a truck stop, full of modern 18-wheelers that no longer operated. They slowed, darted beneath one, and waited as the thump of rotors went by and darkness cloaked the ground before them. Continuing on, they double-timed it over to the shadowy motel and entered through one of the broken windows. Gu
nnar cut his hand as he climbed through, then turned to help Arianna inside.
For a moment they crouched; waiting, listening for movement both in and out.
Neither one dared turn on a flashlight.
As their eyes adjusted they were finally able to see more.
The room they’d entered stank like urine, and barring a ratty old mattress the rest was in shambles. It looked as if someone had been searching for anything they could use while smashing furniture, and TVs that were of no use.
In the silence, they locked eyes.
“I could have helped them,” she said.
“I’m sure you could and you would have died in the process. Is that what you want?”
She looked away. Gunnar got up and quietly crossed the room to the door. There was so much junk jammed up behind the door that he couldn’t get it open. “Here, give me a hand,” he said, lifting a smashed side table and tossing it to one side. He brought a hand up to his nose and winced at the smell. “Man, some people are animals.”
It smelled like vomit and feces.
Once they managed to clear the doorway, Gunnar peered into a pitch-dark corridor. Satisfied that the PLA wasn’t nearby, he unclipped a tactical flashlight and jabbed the button. A beam of light illuminated his way to reveal a collapsed ceiling, waterlogged carpet, and several rats scurrying out of view. “You wait until I leave a review on this place,” he said with a chuckle. “Gotta love me a two-star hotel,” he muttered, careful as to where he set his foot down, hoping to God that no snakes had slithered inside.
“What a mess.” Arianna climbed over a shopping cart that had been dragged inside and was turned over. Toilet paper was unraveled in large amounts, streaking the corridor like party streamers. Large sections of the ceiling revealed pink insulation that was soaked and dripping black toxic goo. Both of them brought up cloth bandannas and wrapped them around the lower half of their faces. The once beautiful lodgings had been desecrated. Colorful graffiti lined the walls, garbage bags were sprawled, and he even spotted drug paraphernalia among it. It was a harsh reminder of the world that had been left behind.