San Diego Slaughter

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San Diego Slaughter Page 7

by Robert Boren

“I’m Sid, and this is my wife Yvonne,” Sid said as he slid into the booth, Yvonne coming in next to them.

  Mr. Black looked at them, then at Mr. White. “Women fight good enough?”

  Sam chuckled. “Trust me. They’re good. As good as most of the people I worked with in the Seals.”

  “We have other Ivan resources watching dock,” Mr. White said. “They let us know when boat shows up.”

  “How sure are we that a boat will show up today?” Erica asked. “With all these battles going on, I mean.”

  Mr. White looked at her. “Satellite feed show boat coming.” He held his phone up in front of Sam and Erica.

  “Bigger boat than I expected,” Sam said. “Looks like about sixty foot.”

  “Bigger than first boat we saw,” Mr. Black said, “but they steal, so vary in size. You hear about small boats coming up to San Diego?”

  “Yeah, I figured that’s why Ivan wanted to move this assault up,” Sid said.

  “Not say name, say boss only,” Mr. White said. “Walls have ears. Peacekeepers come here. Saw two leaving before we left car.”

  “Wonderful,” Yvonne said, her eyes darting around.

  “I hungry,” Mr. Black said. “Order food. Wish could have beer.”

  “After,” Sam said, watching out the window. His phone dinged with a text, startling him. “Crap.”

  “Who is it?” Erica asked.

  “Robbie. Peacekeepers massing outside of base in El Cajon.”

  “Shit,” Yvonne said. “Now what? Think they’re joining the battle?”

  “Robbie,” Mr. White said. “Glad boss not make us ice him. Good in fight. Was at Torrance operation.”

  “You were going to kill him?” Erica asked.

  “Let’s not go down that road,” Sam said. “We’ve got a dangerous job here. We have no idea how many men are on that boat, for one thing.”

  “Maybe we should just send it to the bottom with some grenades,” Sid said.

  “No, we kill where people see, hang bodies, make sure everybody know stream of UN Peacekeepers was coming in here,” Mr. White said. “Can’t just blow up. Need locals to keep on when we leave.”

  “We have enough commandos,” Mr. Black said. “Eighteen. Plenty.”

  “What if there are fifty men on that boat?” Yvonne asked.

  “They not have chance,” Mr. Black said. “Trust me. Can’t leave boat fast enough. We kill as they try.”

  “This is media operation,” Mr. White said. “Remember that. Make big splash. Ivan have three camera men here. They capture all action.”

  Sam chuckled. “We’re gonna be YouTube stars?”

  “Wait, that will show our faces, right?” Erica asked, looking alarmed. “We have Mia to think of.”

  “Boss process video before release, blur faces,” Mr. White said. “We all need. Live to fight another day.”

  Mr. Black chuckled. “We still wanted in USA.”

  “Uh oh,” Erica said.

  “Not worry about,” Mr. White said. “California legislature owe us big time, remember?”

  Mr. Black chuckled. “They forget that fast. They don’t care.”

  Sam’s phone dinged with a text. He took a look.

  “Boss?” Mr. White asked.

  Sam nodded, typing on his phone. “Satellite images of the boat.” He studied it for a moment, then passed the phone around.

  “Trawler,” Mr. Black said as he studied the picture. “Those move slow, but have large cargo capacity.”

  “Wish they were Islamists,” Sid said. “At least we can see them.”

  “Unless they line the boat with lead,” Yvonne said.

  “Too much weight,” Mr. White said. “How far out?”

  “Not as far as I expected,” Sam said. “They’ll be here in less than an hour. Let’s eat.”

  ***

  The line of police cars was on the move, growing in size with each passing mile, racing to El Cajon on Highway 125. Officer Roberts was in the lead, his squad car filled with three officers in the back seat and Officer Sanchez, his young, dashing partner, riding shotgun.

  “Hope this doesn’t weaken us too much on the front,” Officer Sanchez said.

  “We were extras at that last battle,” Officer Roberts said. “Ivan’s folks didn’t even know we were coming. They’ve got that battle, and we’ll rejoin if we can. Who else is on the way?”

  “Nobody from San Diego,” Officer Sanchez said. “They’re a target and they know it. Most of the people coming are from Poway and north of there.”

  “They gonna make it in time?”

  Officer Sanchez shrugged. “Don’t know. We’ll probably be there first. We weren’t that far away.”

  The radio bleeped.

  “Aw, shit, what now?” one of the officers in back asked.

  “Shut up, Kowalski,” said the man next to him.

  “Yeah,” Officer Sanchez said at the microphone.

  “This is Captain Abrams,” the scratchy voice said over the radio speaker. “How many units left the battle?”

  Kowalski laughed. “Hey, Captain, we didn’t leave the battle, we’re just heading into another part of it.”

  “Cut it, Kowalski,” Officer Roberts said. “Sorry Captain. We tried to round up everybody who could get their units out. Went into Lemon Grove with sixty units. We probably have most of them. There’s at least four officers in each.”

  “Dammit, that’s pretty thin,” Captain Abrams replied. “We have another eighty units plus several SWAT vehicles coming from Poway, Carlsbad, and Escondido, but they’re about half an hour behind you guys.”

  “Should we wait for them?” Officer Roberts asked.

  “Negative. They’re killing citizens. We need to hit the enemy as soon as you get there. Get off on Navajo Road and assemble in the parking lot of the shopping center. There’s a semi-truck sitting there waiting for you.”

  “Semi-truck?” Officer Sanchez asked.

  “Who’s that?” the Captain asked.

  “Sanchez,” Officer Roberts said. “Why? Shouldn’t we just high-tail it to where the enemy is? They’re east of Cuyamaca, right?”

  “Yep, north of Fletcher Parkway. Our friend has weapons and ammo for us in that semi.”

  “Ivan the Butcher?” Officer Sanchez asked. “Radical.”

  “What’s he got, Captain?” Kowalski asked.

  “Is that Kowalski again?” Captain Abrams snickered. “How’d you get so lucky?”

  “Hey,” Kowalski said, shooting a grin at the two men on either side of him in the back seat. “Us reserve officers get no respect.”

  “What’s he giving us?” Officer Roberts asked.

  “M60s and M240s,” Captain Abrams replied. “Lots of ammo. Grenades. Probably a few mortars.”

  “Shit, how are we gonna avoid shooting through walls and hitting civilians?” Officer Roberts asked.

  “The UN is trying to force you guys into a rescue mission,” Captain Abrams said. “We aren’t taking that bait. Some civilians are gonna get killed, but it’ll be less if we take the enemy on. Go on offense right away. Nail as many of those creeps as you can.”

  “How about the units from the north?” Officer Sanchez asked. “They got to go down there to get the machine guns too?”

  “There’s another semi-truck waiting for them just north of Santee.”

  “Of course this is all legal,” Kowalski quipped.

  “No comment,” Captain Abrams said.

  “Well, Captain, we’re two miles from our off-ramp. The semi is already there, right?”

  “Yeah. Talk to you soon. We’ve got choppers on the way as well, but we’ll need you guys to spot for them on the ground.”

  “Military?” Officer Sanchez asked.

  “Yeah, but they won’t be there right away. Most of them are coming from Nevada. I gotta go.”

  “Thanks, Captain,” Officer Roberts said. “Talk to you soon.”

  “Don’t get killed.” The call ended.

&n
bsp; “How many of you guys have training with these weapons?” Officer Sanchez asked.

  “Me, of course,” Kowalski said.

  “Of course,” Officer Sanchez said, rolling his eyes. “I’ll broadcast a text to the others. I told them to monitor.”

  “Good, do that,” Officer Roberts said as he took the off-ramp.

  They drove onto Navajo Road, turning right into the parking lot.

  “There it is,” Officer Sanchez said, pointing out the windshield. The semi was in the middle of the deserted parking lot. The squad cars gathered around it, Officers and others getting out and trotting over. Two men were standing by the back of the semi-trailer, the doors still closed.

  “Which one of you is Officer Roberts?” shouted the larger of the two men in a Russian accent, his head shaved, wearing a t-shirt and euro-style jeans.

  “Right here,” Officer Roberts said as he approached with Officer Sanchez and the others. “Who are you?”

  “Just call me Demetri,” the man said.

  “Hey, aren’t you wanted?” Officer Sanchez asked, looking stern, then cracking up. “Just kidding. I know you’re on our side. Good to meet you. I’m Sanchez.”

  “Good to meet,” Demetri said, smiling. “Circumstances make us allies.” He glanced over at his partner, a shorter blonde-haired man wearing a satin shirt and similar jeans. “Come, Blake, let’s get this opened.” They unlatched the back doors and swung them open. The semi wasn’t full, but there were a lot of weapons. Blake jumped into the back and started handing out guns and ammo belts.

  “Who need training?” Demetri asked.

  About half the men raised their hands, and gathered around as he showed them how to load and fire the M60s and the M240s.

  “Hey, what the hell are those?” Kowalski asked, pointing to a row of tanks on backpack harnesses that Blake was moving to the doors of the trailer.

  “X15 flame throwers, mate,” Blake said in a British accent. “Loaded with Napalm.”

  “I’m all over that,” Kowalski said.

  “These are a tad heavy,” Blake said. “You look big enough to handle one.”

  “What do you think, boss?” Kowalski asked Officer Roberts as he was walking over from the machine gun briefing.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “It’s an X15 flame thrower,” Kowalski said, on the verge of cracking up.

  Officer Roberts shook his head. “This ain’t a game, Kowalski. Don’t make me sorry I brought you.”

  “Hey, killed me a bunch of UN slugs today. It was worth it.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Officer Roberts said. “What are we gonna do with these?”

  “How you say, barbeque enemy?” quipped Demetri. “These good to burn enemy out of structure.”

  “Probably good at burning down whole neighborhoods too,” Officer Roberts said.

  “This not rescue mission, this attack on enemy military,” Demetri said. “Understand or be killed. Choice is yours.”

  “Yeah, that’s what my Captain just told me,” Officer Roberts said. “All right, better run us through them too.”

  ***

  Ivan rushed over to Robbie and Morgan, who were sitting side by side, looking at their screens. “Robbie, did the drone get over El Cajon yet?”

  “Yep, and I’m logged onto it,” Robbie said. “This is gonna be bad. There’s thousands of UN Peacekeepers flooding out of that base. I think they planned this from the beginning.”

  “I would have,” Ivan said, his brow furrowed. “The police squad cars from the Lemon Grove battle are heading there now. We got weapons to them.”

  “Is that gonna be enough?” Morgan asked.

  “They’ve got just under 60 squad cars, with four or five officers in each. There’s another 80 coming in from points north, similar numbers per squad car, plus a handful of SWAT team armored vehicles. It’s thin, but we’ve got to do the best that we can. They want us to take our focus off the Bonita Country Club.”

  “Broadcast to the residents of El Cajon,” Robbie said. “Tell them that if they’ve got guns, they’d better load them up and take on the enemy.”

  Jules was listening. “Good idea, boss. Can you break into the local TV stations?”

  Ivan thought about it for a moment, then smiled. “I’ll go make some phone calls. My video equipment is down here, right?”

  “Yes, in next room,” Jules said. “We set up?”

  “Yeah, do that,” Ivan said, walking away with his phone to his ear.

  “That might just change this from a suicide mission to something we can win,” Robbie said.

  “You think it’s a suicide mission?” Morgan asked.

  “Best case we’ve got 700 police and reserve police officers heading into the area, and the first 300 will be at least half an hour earlier than the rest. We’re seeing several thousand UN Peacekeepers flooding into those residential areas west of their base.”

  “Robbie has point, but they get much better weapons than UN slugs have,” Jules said. “That give edge. Still risky mission.”

  Ben Dover rushed over. “Ivan asked me to come help you, Jules. What’s up?”

  “We set up video studio for boss. He go live on TV, warn people about UN actions in El Cajon”

  Ben smiled. “Great. It’s about time Ivan got back on TV. Let’s go.” He and Jules left the room.

  “Think that will help?” Morgan asked.

  “If enough of them have their TVs on,” Robbie said. “They’d better hurry. The UN Peacekeepers are already into the residential area. Whoa!”

  “What?” Morgan asked, rolling her chair closer to stare at his screen.

  “Some of these citizens do have guns. See that big house on the corner? They just stopped a squad of UN Peacekeepers from entering that block.”

  “Wow, somebody’s shooting from across the street, too,” Morgan said. “They killed most of that squad.”

  “There’s a bigger one on the way. Hope they’re ready.”

  Seth ran in from the next room. “We’re gonna have company.”

  “Here?” Morgan asked, her eyes wide. “Most of our people are gone.”

  “No they’re not,” Robbie said. “We’ve still got all of Garrett’s men, the off-roaders, and the highway is still lined with armed citizens. You got the word out to Garrett, right?”

  “Yeah, he’s already on it, but we need to be running the Dodge City video feed, and we need somebody on it to help coordinate.”

  “I can do that,” Morgan said. “What are you and Kaitlyn watching?”

  “The Bonita Country club, mostly,” Seth said, “supporting the Battle Wagons. That’s gone quiet for now, after we destroyed their forces at the two shopping centers. We’re expecting them to start moving west any time, though.”

  “What about Lemon Grove?” Robbie asked. “Haven’t looked for a while.”

  “That’s over,” Seth said. “At least for now.”

  “There’s too much going on,” Morgan said, as she switched her view to the video surveillance cameras. They started to cycle. “Where are you seeing the enemy?”

  “Two semi-trucks coming south on Highway 94. They’re gonna run into the first of the citizens in a few miles.”

  “We sure they’re enemy fighters?” Robbie asked.

  Seth nodded. “History program showed them loading up. Almost missed it. They must have been in a shielded building, because there were only a few stray hits.”

  “Dammit, two semis can hold a lot of bad guys,” Morgan said.

  “Yeah. I’d better get back. Wouldn’t be surprised if the UN forces at Bonita decide to take off right when we’re getting attacked.” He rushed out.

  “Son of a bitch,” Robbie said. “Hope we don’t get any surprises.”

  Morgan shot him a glance, then focused back on her screen. “I’ve got the history program feed running in a second window. We’ll know when they show up, if they’re out further than half a mile.”

  “Good,” Robbie said. “We
’d better protect those battle wagons outside the mine. We don’t need our generators going dark with all this going on.”

  ***

  Garrett gathered the cavalry at the far end of Dodge City’s main street.

  Willard rushed over on foot with his cannon team. “Where are those bastards?”

  “Close enough to touch off the short-range apps when our citizens on Highway 94 blow holes in the semi-trailers,” Garrett said from his horse. He turned to the other mounted men, who were gathering quickly.

  “Men, the good news is that we’ll have RFID hits on these folks, unlike the UN creeps that our away team is dealing with.”

  “Where are all these folks coming from?” asked Tyler, shaking his head. “Thought they were about done.”

  “They can’t escape to the south anymore,” Garrett said. “At least not in California. The objectives of the enemy are the same. Take San Diego, then open the border again. They have a chance. We’re part of what is preventing them from their mission. Our intel team is in that mine. We need to make sure the motorhome generators don’t get hit, and we need to make sure the mine isn’t overrun.”

  “We should pull the ladder and remove anything that tips the enemy off about the access tunnel,” Tyler said.

  Garrett nodded. “I agree. You can lead a team to do that.”

  “On it,” Tyler said, looking over at his warriors, who nodded in agreement. They rushed down the street towards the mine.

  Gunfire erupted to the north, small arms fire, and then the unmistakable sound of M60s. Everybody’s phone apps buzzed them.

  “There they are,” Garrett said. “Let’s go kill us some enemy fighters.”

  A cheer arose from the cavalry, and they raced up the street towards the front gate, past the three battle wagons, hoofbeats sounding like thunder. Ji-Ho waved them on from the first rig as they went by. Gunfire intensified from the highway as Willard’s cannon team got into place, loading up the four cannons they still had, all aimed at the main gate.

  { 7 }

  Back-Up Generator

  O fficer Roberts led the line of police cruisers east on Fletcher Parkway. “Where should I make the turn?”

 

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