The Jared Chronicles | Book 3 | Chains of Tyranny

by Tippins, Rick

  “Come inside,” John countered.

  There was a short pause, then a man attired in the uniform worn by all the soldiers stepped into the doorway. A rifle hung at low ready on the man’s front, and a second rifle was clutched tightly in his left hand. When the man spotted John, he hefted the rifle in his left hand through the air in John’s direction. Instinctively John caught the weapon, checked the magazine, racked the action, and flipped the selector lever to fire before bringing the weapon to bear on the man in the doorway.

  “Take it easy, mate. We’re getting the fuck outta Dodge, man. Only reason we stopped by here is it seems the colonel doesn’t like you, so that makes you an ally.”

  Screw it, John thought, lowering the rifle. “What’s the plan?”

  As if on cue, two large explosions eliminated the quiet of the base.

  Two SEALs were assigned to use M203 grenades to damage and possibly destroy the one surviving Black Hawk. The SEALs launched their warheads at the front cockpit area of the aircraft in hopes the destructive devices would do enough damage that no pilot in their right mind would attempt to fly the machine. For good measure the SEALs fired two additional projectiles into the engine cowling before turning and sprinting across the tarmac toward the corner of the main hangar. They could see six SEALs, who comprised the assault team, just entering the hangar where the armory was located, and they raced to join them.

  Matt, leading the six-SEAL assault team, glanced back as the M203 grenades smashed into the defenseless Black Hawk, causing such a ruckus it was hard to focus on his own portion of the mission. After the second wave of grenades crashed into the already crippled machine, Denver, who was bringing up the rear, spotted the two SEALs running at top speed toward him and Matt’s team.

  “Two coming in,” Denver roared, not wanting any friendly-fire incidents.

  Matt was in the lead as his team rounded the west side of the hangar, entering through the large door, which was rarely closed. The armory was along the same wall and had formerly been office space, which the colonel had converted to store his arsenal. When the lone guard outside the door to the armory saw eight SEALs closing on him at a run with weapons raised, he stooped, laid his rifle on the ground, and immediately complied with the SEALs’ instructions to lie prone.

  Matt located John’s gear and stuffed it into a large duffel he found on a shelf. As Matt stuffed the gear into the bag, Denver and Adam laid a two-and-half-pound block of C-4 explosive on the ground, inserted the blasting cap, and attached the electrical wire they planned on using for an electronic detonation. Matt would have preferred wrapping detonation cord around all the weapons to ensure they were all destroyed, but he was short on time, so a simple blast was going to have to suffice.

  Matt finished his gear collection and retreated from the armory to where two SEALs were crouched and ready to repel any attempt to stop the raid. Luckily for Matt and his mates, the onus of everyone on base seemed directed at the smoldering Black Hawk out on the tarmac. Matt looked nervously out and to the left of the hangar, where he felt he should already be hearing the Humvees’ throaty engines. Instead his ears only received the sounds of a slowly reacting, undertrained base of unskilled soldiers.

  Matt knew as unskilled as any one of the soldiers was, they would still pose a lethal threat from here on out. Suddenly the three SEALs assigned to retrieve the Humvees emerged from the darkness at a full run toward Matt and the hangar—without a single Humvee. When the first SEAL saw Matt, his face told the story before his voice had a chance.

  “Boss, they took the batteries.”

  “Mutha fuckers,” Matt hissed through clinched teeth.

  Matt spun back to the armory in time to see Denver and the rest of his team emerging as they spooled wire behind them. “We’re on foot, boys,” Matt hollered in frustration. Matt was no stranger to dealing with mission disappointment, but the loss of the Humvees from his plan was a significant hardship for his team, lowering their odds of success more than Matt cared to think about.

  Matt gave the inside of the hangar one last look before turning and running to the rally point on the west side of the hangar. The plan had been to be picked up by the three Humvees and then crash through the fences until they breached the base’s exterior fencing. Now they had no ride, but were committed, having blown up the Black Hawk. There would be no going back now, Matt knew. The SEALs were on their own and would survive only if they overcame this new obstacle of no transportation.

  Matt was pissed about the battery situation, but also worried that the Humvees would soon be used against them. Matt knew there was a river not far from the base, and as a SEAL, his first instinct was to get to water. Matt also knew although the Humvees could be outfitted with .50-caliber heavy machine guns, they wouldn’t be equipped with any sort of night-vision assets. The big question now was how long it would take the soldiers to get the vehicles into the fight. If the soldiers were governed by good leadership, they would simultaneously work on getting the batteries and the big guns onto the Humvees. Matt prayed for poor leadership on the part of these soldiers.

  The living quarters for the soldiers were thankfully on the opposite side of the base from the SEALs’ quarters. When shouts rose from the direction of the soldiers’ living quarters, Matt felt a tug of panic as he hurried out of the hangar, moving to the west side, where he saw his two SEALs dressed as soldiers standing next to a stranger who held a rifle. They got the guy. At least part of this plan is going as we drew it up, Matt thought.

  Two of Matt’s team members tossed the SEALs dressed as soldiers their packs, which held all their normally issued gear. As much as the two wanted to change out right there, they knew they didn’t have a surplus of time to do so. Matt and Denver completed a quick head count as the group jogged west alongside the hangar wall. They both counted twelve men, which confirmed they’d left no one behind. No matter how bad things got tonight, Matt couldn’t think of anything worse than leaving one of his guys behind. Carnegie would show no mercy after what the SEALs did to the Black Hawk.

  Denver and his partner continued feeding the wire behind them until the SEALs reached the shed where John had been held. At the shed, the group moved to the far side of the structure, placing it between themselves and the armory. John moved with the SEALs as he realized the thin wire led back to something that would soon go boom.

  “Fire in the hole,” howled Denver.

  John ducked instinctively as an explosion erupted from inside the armory. Before it should have been deemed safe to come out, John was on his feet and running toward the front of the shed. He burst through the door to find Luther sitting on the edge of the cot, a pleasant smile on his face. Luther was wearing a shirt, boxers and a dirty pair of socks, which John knew were his usual night-time wear.

  “Get dressed, Luther,” John urged. “We gotta go, and we gotta go now, my friend.”

  Luther’s smile broadened, but assumed a saddened countenance. “This ole boy is not going anywhere, John. I am too old to flee into the night. That is the action for younger men than I.”

  John’s shoulders slumped. He knew Luther would not be accompanying them. More disturbing, John was sure Luther was not able to physically do what would be needed of him were he to complement their group with his presence. John briefly contemplated asking Luther if he needed anything, but refrained, knowing if the man were found with a weapon or any item given to him by the party responsible for what was happening tonight, Carnegie would make Luther suffer.

  John crossed the room and stuck out a hand. “It’s been a pleasure doing time with you, Luther.”

  Luther took John’s hand and dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Give ’em hell, boy.”

  As John turned to leave, Matt appeared in the doorway. Matt looked past John, seeing Luther sitting in what amounted to his pajamas, then shot John a questioning look. John shook his head, pushing past Matt, who gave Luther a quick salute before turning to follow John. Matt figured he’d get the whole story
at a later date as he trailed John back to rejoin the rest of Matt’s SEALs.

  Chapter 22

  As soon as Matt and John linked up, Denver struck out at a fast jog, heading toward the fence line with everyone in trail. While the SEALs were finishing up with the armory, rain began to fall and was now coming down in a steady downpour, making for a less comfortable escape, but in Matt’s mind an easier one. Yes, he and his team would be colder and wetter, but the falling rain would help mask any sound they made. When they reached the first fence, two SEALs, each equipped with bolt cutters, sliced a hole through the barrier. This process took place two additional times before John and the SEALs were outside the base’s confines. In front of them, Matt could see a fairly large road they would need to cross that ran next to a field as flat as a soccer field. On the other side of the field, Matt knew lay the river, and toward that source of water they continued moving.

  Halfway across the field, Matt heard the first Humvee roar to life. No one said a word as the men quickened their pace. The Humvee could be heard racing out of the base and heading along a road to the SEALs’ left, before turning and heading out westward as if trying to get ahead of the fleeing group. A second and third Humvee soon joined the fray, with one heading along the SEALs’ right side and the other stopping to their rear. Matt quickly realized the soldiers were not searching for them, but instead setting up a perimeter.

  Matt was thankful there were only three vehicles and not half a dozen or more. His combat mind was working overtime as he ran hard for a few seconds, overtaking Denver and assuming the lead. Before they left for their evening’s fun, Matt had committed the map of this immediate area to memory. He remembered the river was a twisting winding mess that crossed several roads, which Matt felt would be watched by the soldiers in the Humvees armed with heavy machine guns. Not a good thing to run into, in Matt’s opinion.

  When Matt reached the river, he clambered down its banks and plunged into the icy water, causing him to stifle a gasp as he forded the slow-moving water in just a few seconds. The river was not wide at this point and more resembled a creek than a river, but was deep enough to reach his nipple line. On the opposite shore, Matt scanned the area ahead and listened. He could no longer hear the Humvees’ engines, which meant they had been assigned posts, reached them, and were now visually searching for Matt, John and the rest of the SEALs. Matt called a short halt and pulled everyone in.

  “I think they are trying to work a perimeter on us. I say we slow it down a little. Up to the right is an industrial area I want to get to. We shouldn’t get near any bridges; they’ll be on them.”

  John, who until now had gone mostly unnoticed, grunted as he pulled on his gear the SEALs had brought from the armory. “Hold up one. What’s your name?”

  Matt shook his head, thinking of all the weird moments much like this one that seemed to happen a lot. Right in the middle of a shit sandwich, someone would bring something up so off topic and not in line with what they were doing, it served to inject a much-needed dose of levity to an otherwise miserable experience.

  “Matt, and you?” Matt said, his hand extended.

  John smiled and shook Matt’s hand. “John.”

  Without another word, Matt turned and led the men along the western bank of the San Joaquin River. Matt wore his NVG down over his eyes as they moved, and easily spotted the bridge he’d been looking for. The crossing lay three hundred yards directly to the group’s front. Matt slid back into the river, crossing to the eastern shore, where he climbed up the opposite slippery bank.

  Matt walked another fifty yards to a fence, which the two SEALs with the bolt cutters opened for the team to pass through. Inside the fence they found themselves in a distribution center consisting of several flat-roofed industrial-type buildings. The buildings were in the past home to a shipping company, a dog-supply company and a medical-supply company. There were marooned trucks lined next to freight trailers by the dozens, which provided the coveted concealment Matt yearned for.

  Matt and the rest of his crew raced through the vehicles, scanning for threats the entire way. All the men were combat veterans, but not a single one had ever been immersed in a situation like the one they were in now. Although Matt and most of his team had in the past participated in several very ferocious battles, none of those scrapes had deteriorated to the point of being overrun or fleeing for the very lives. They’d always stood and fought, due partly to the presence of American airpower and partly to well-planned-out, properly staffed and controlled missions.

  Now it seemed to Matt the world was turning against him and his teammates, which should have blanketed him in a feeling of aloneness. On the contrary, the experience was having the opposite effect on Matt. He felt a closeness with his team tonight like never before as his chest welled with pride just knowing he was a part of this tough group of warfighters. Although Matt held no intention of dying tonight, he felt it would be an honor to die fighting with these SEALs he called his brothers.

  The SEALs, along with John, moved three hundred yards before turning west again and crossing the road. Matt turned them again to the north in order to intersect the river. He wanted to remain in close proximity to the river in the case they were contacted so they’d have an avenue of escape or at least an obstacle they could place between themselves and the soldiers in the Humvees. Matt knew the Humvees were unable to ford the river and would be relegated to finding bridges to pass from shore to shore, and Matt intended to use this fun fact to his advantage.

  Matt and his friends, on the other hand, could bounce back and forth across the river whenever the need arose. He desperately hoped they wouldn’t be contacted because deep down he knew if the soldiers didn’t back off, Matt and his men would be forced to kill some of the soldiers. If the men in the Humvees had seen what the SEALs had done to the Black Hawk and armory, Matt doubted they would check their fire even if asked to.

  John and the SEALs caught the winding river again and slipped over its banks. To a man everyone felt more comfortable near or in the water. After crossing the river again, Matt called a quick halt and performed another head count, ensuring no one was missing. John and Denver slid up to Matt’s side, looking expectantly for information or at least a thought from the lead SEAL on what their next move might be.

  Matt almost asked John what he thought, but caught himself, not wanting to be seen deferring to an outsider. “I think we broke their perimeter. They only have three vehicles, and we haven’t stopped moving for an hour. I think they’ll sit tight on their posts and wait for first light to really start searching. Hopefully we will be long gone by then,” Matt concluded in a hushed voice.

  John and Denver both nodded in silent concurrence.

  “What’s your end game here?” John pressed in an effort to wring a little more information from the Navy boys. He wasn’t fond of being part of an operation he hadn’t collaborated on planning.

  Matt looked at Denver, who shrugged. “We haven’t planned that far out. This whole thing with the colonel fell apart so damn fast we were only given the time to plan our exit. I mean, what is anyone’s end game after what happened—Denver?” Matt offered, giving the senior SEAL a chance to add something.

  Denver shook his large head. “Like Matt said, from here on out we are kinda winging it.”

  John pursed his lips. “Well, I ain’t. I started a life and was just getting my feet under me when the good colonel came and snatched me away. I had a place fifty or sixty miles from here, and that bastard Josh came in and threatened to do what he does to the people I was with if I didn’t come with them.”

  Matt and Denver exchanged knowing smiles.

  “What?” John asked.

  “The good colonel, as you put it, doesn’t have the capability to reach that far any longer.” Matt chuckled with a smirk creasing the corners of his mouth.

  John looked confused. “He still has one bird. I saw what you all did tonight, and you only got one of the Black Hawks.”


  “True,” Matt said. “Someone else got the other one yesterday.”

  John was now thoroughly perplexed, but listened as Matt explained what had happened to Josh and his crew during their failed assault on the homestead. John’s face morphed from a look of confusion to an all-out ear-to-ear smile as Matt described the disaster. This was the best news John had heard in months. John only wished he could rub it in Carnegie’s face.

  The night the SEALs made their raucous departure, Carnegie was in his office, going over older satellite photographs of the surrounding area. He was trying to formulate a plan to not only feed everyone on the base, but grow his force in strength and influence in the region. Personally, he knew when the transport planes stopped coming and NORAD went silent on the radio, the last vestiges of government had succumbed, destroyed by EMP and tactical nuclear warfare that had erupted following the destabilization of society caused by the initial solar flare.

  Carnegie had surmised very early on he would find himself alone and unsupported. Mentally he was prepared for this time, but lacked a plan he felt was bulletproof. Carnegie had always enjoyed the luxury of being surrounded by experts in the fields he needed expert opinions on. Now he’d flown all the experts to wherever NORAD was keeping or kept people for that sort of thing. Carnegie kept telling himself 99 percent of the people he’d dragged out of the dregs of Silicone Valley would have been useless to him now anyway in an attempt to self-cajole.

  The only person Carnegie hadn’t sent to NORAD was this Luther Brock fellow, and from the interviews Carnegie had performed with the man, Brock was a tick or two below useless unless Carnegie had the need for an eight-track cassette player. Carnegie, however, was a resourceful man and was beginning to see a vision for his future, which included a heavy dose of forced labor in order to feed his troops. He needed to bring in equipment from the surrounding area and farm the land close to the base. This way he could maintain iron-fisted control, ensuring he wasn’t being stolen from.