“So,” she began in a low voice. “What do you think of our new CO?”
“He seems very impressed with himself.” He replied with a deadpan face.
“Indeed he does,” she chuckled.
“If I may ask, do you feel it was wise to question him?” He matched Maggie’s voice volume. “I heard some people talking about it later.”
“No, it wasn’t very smart.” Maggie admitted with a reflection of guilt. “It was just me and my big mouth.”
“If it is any consolation,” Gurpreet offered. “Your voice spoke for many in the room who remained silent.”
“I had that feeling.”
“Among the many I heard talking,” he eyed her with a sideways glance. “They respected you a great deal for voicing your concerns.”
“Good,” she eyed him back. “I’ll need them at my court-martial.”
“No….”
“Joking,’ she paused and faced him. “I’m just joking.” For now, anyway, she thought to herself.
“Ah,” he smiled. “Well, it is back to guard duty for me.”
“See you later.” She nodded with a smile.
“Yes, ma’am,” He saluted perfectly and Maggie returned it as best she could. I like you. She concluded. Maggie felt like a square peg in a world of round holes lately. Maybe she had just found that precious jewel of a person you could open up to.
The 727 cargo plane was on the last leg of its run. It had begun in Southern Manitoba at CFB Shilo. The base had been expanded with a huge runway just a few years ago to complement its two existing helipads. Until then, the under equipped and strained Canadian forces had used an abandoned drag strip in Gimli for air traffic. The principal job of the base was to defend the TransCanada Highway and railway through Manitoba as best as it could. It was also a way station for supply craft like this one.
With the loading completed in Shilo, the jet had stopped over at Andrews Air Force Base and collected a few passengers and more supplies to be ferried up to the containment line in Toronto. The flight was no more than two hours. It crossed the huge expanse of water that was Lake Ontario. The pilot carefully noted and double checked the new destination on his GPS. Damn, that is close to the line. He thought. The information was confirmed and entered into the aircraft’s navigational system.
As they prepared for descent, the pilot glanced to his right and saw the conspicuous landmark of the CN Tower. It jutted out of the surroundings like a man made exclamation point. The white concrete was dirtied by time but still visible. All the buildings around downtown Toronto had that ghostly, empty feel about them. They were like monuments to an ancient culture that had once flourished and suddenly descended into nothingness, leaving behind only these concrete creations and a lingering question of their purpose.
The 727 came in low over downtown, passing over the CNE grounds on the lakeshore. It banked slightly to the left over south eastern Etobicoke and the 427 containment line for its final approach. The flight had been flawless, almost boring. The next leg after refueling would be to bring medical and assorted other supplies to Sherbrooke, Quebec. After that, returning to Andrews with doctors and diplomats. They would then refuel for the last leg to Shilo.
Long dead eyes followed the 727 as it traced an arc across the sky. There was not a question of what it was. There was no wonder as to why it was there. There was movement and then a pang of hunger. For several seconds after the plane passed overhead, there was silence in its wake. Then, one began to move and two more followed. The small group was seen by more soulless eyes. The figures shifted slowly and began to move. It was a growing procession that was indefatigable. They required no sleep for they did not tire. There was only hunger.
An hour later, another jet passed overhead. It served as a reminder that they were proceeding in the right direction.
Maggie kept repeating a new mantra over and over. I will say nothing. I will do nothing in the meeting. I will just lay low. True, discretion was the better part of valor but it wasn’t nearly half as much fun. A wry expression played across her face that paused with an afterthought. Are you having fun now? Do you need this added stress and conflict?
Maybe I do, it was an odd thought. The Blackberry chimed its happy tune.
Molly: Hey, did I catch you at a bad time?
Maggie: No, just getting ready to meet the CO again. I think we’re going over battle plans.
Molly: That sounds serious.
Maggie: Don’t worry. It’s just a meeting.
Molly: Okay, I’ve got some info.
Maggie: Awesome.
Molly: When the NHL suspended operations, Otto Jay took up politics. He became a favorite of the Prime Minister. Jay campaigned like crazy for him. The PM gave him a General’s rank as thanks.
“I fucking knew it.” Maggie swore with a hint of satisfaction.
Maggie: Just like that? He’s a General?
Molly: Just like that. There has been a bit of a cooling off between the two since.
Maggie: Why?
Molly: The Prime Minister in your new country favors containment. To him it’s the perfect political solution to what’s going on.
Maggie: ?
Molly: Every once in awhile people talk about retaking a city. Truth is, no leader wants to do it. The casualties would probably topple the government.
Maggie: So, we build containment lines and wait five years for all hostiles to starve to death. That’s all I hear about up here.
Molly: They don’t know if they ever starve to death.
Maggie: ?
Molly: Maggie, these are politicians. Half the numbers they come up with they just pull out of thin air. It’s all a game to get re-elected. They don’t know that these things can starve to death.
Maggie: Wow.
Molly: They handle this crisis like they used to handle the national dept. Just kick it down the road a little farther. If it all works out, they look brilliant. If it doesn’t, it’s someone else’s problem because they’re out of office and on a pension somewhere safe.
Maggie: How do you know this?
Molly: I’ m a reporter on Sixty Minutes, remember?
Maggie: No, I mean about containment.
Molly: Maggie, it’s not that containment is a bad idea. It’s the only idea, for now. If we try to take back the cities. It will be a bloodbath. This is the only option.
Maggie: So, Jay is looking for another option.
Molly: I was getting to that. A Canadian diplomat and one of the Pentagon people I work with were talking about Jay. He said the guy was getting obsessed with a battle called Verdun.
Maggie: First World War.
Molly: Right.
Maggie: The Germans tried to bleed the French army dry with one huge battle near the fortress of Verdun.
Molly: That’s basically what the Pentagon guy said when he gave me a quick history lesson.
Maggie: Verdun, why?
Molly: Think about it for a minute.
Maggie looked up from the screen into the tumultuous sky. The low clouds had the texture of a stormy sea. Air currents were flowing through one another like an undertow. The feeling was ominous. Verdun. The light came on.
“Fuck.” She said aloud. The word disappeared into thin air in a heartbeat. The emotion hung suspended as if it had been stapled to the sky.
Maggie: He’s using the noise to tempt them out of the cities into our firing line.
Molly: I think that is most of it.
Maggie: He has no experience here, Molly. I have seen these things. When they move, they ALL move.
Molly: He is trying to speed up the five year plan.
Maggie: He has no idea. Why would he use the Vice President’s plane and the Prime Minister’s plane to make his point? They are all coming here.
Molly: You forgot about the UN Secretary General.
Maggie Yes, I know. Why?
It was Molly’s turn to pause. Maggie watched the screen for a few seconds while a distant thunder rolle
d through the silence. It felt like a warning shot.
Molly: I’m not sure. What if this works out? You guys clear Toronto in two years, maybe three. He would be a hero. If the spectators are the Vice President and the Secretary General he gets the big part of the credit.
Maggie: He’d be Prime Minister.
Molly: He already is competition. But I get the feeling Harris won’t be running for another term.
Maggie: ?
Molly: I just think he dislikes Jay. The guy is a loose cannon. He does not follow party line.
Maggie: I know. How the hell did he get a command like this if he’s just a General on paper?
Molly: That one I don’t know.
This is way beyond my pay grade. Maggie looked up and saw the sky darken. One of those summer storms were coming that rolled into this part of the world like a freight train and broke the heat wave. The clouds were moving fast like waves on the sea. Occasional cloud pockets dipped down like hanging honeycombs before disappearing into the whirling cumulus tide. Maggie felt like she was watching a harbinger.
Maggie: Maybe they’re setting him up to fail.
Molly: That could be.
Maggie: If this does go wrong there are a lot of people who live around Pearson. They would be slaughtered.
Molly: My god, you are right
Maggie: You said these were politicians. Maybe this is just a game when you live your life in a boardroom.
Molly: I don’t know what to say, Maggie please come home.
Maggie: This is my home now.
Molly: Maggie, please.
Maggie: It’s okay, really.
Molly: Really? You like it up there?
Maggie: There are lots of memories. Remember all of us going to Innisfil Beach on holidays? We’d all drive up in that minivan from Baltimore?
Molly: OMG
Maggie: PUNCHBUGGY!!!!
Molly: HAHAHAHA!!
Maggie: It’s like you, ma and dad are here with me. The beach is right around here.
Molly: Remember when you sneaked out and went to that club in Barrie? Dad found you on that highway with the street racers?
Maggie: Yeah, I got grounded for like a year. The 400 is the longest drag strip in the world. Those were amazing times. I love you, Molly.
Molly: I love you, too. I just get worried sometimes.
Maggie: It really is okay up here.
Molly: I guess Canadians can be pretty good to live with. They’re so polite.
Maggie: You’ve never seen a hockey game, have you?
Molly: LOL.
The conversations were subdued and serious as Maggie pocketed her Blackberry and walked into the meeting room. Gurpreet wasn’t just talking crap. More than a few men and women she barely knew gave her a nod or walked over to say hi. It was the best part of this job, respect. Maggie spoke quietly about everything and anything while keeping her profile low. But it felt good to feel worthy of this kind of praise. A platoon or army company anywhere in the world had the same rules. It was held together by an intricate series of threads that extended from one person to another. As long as the threads held firm there was cohesion. It was an elaborate train of trust, respect and co-reliance.
“A-TEN-SHUN!!!”
Otto Jay made his way to the front of the room and surveyed the audience in a slow, sweeping arc. The admiration he received a few days earlier was still there. But it was more cautious this time. Maggie kept her eyes focused on a spot about five feet above Jay’s head and slightly to the right. But peripheral vision was a beautiful thing. When his search light gaze passed over her, Maggie swore his face flushed and his eyes became intense. You really need a thicker skin, asshole. She fought an urge to smile at him.
“At ease,” He barked finally. “Let’s get started.”
They sat down like it was choreographed. Actually, it had been. After years of service, watching others and getting yelled at everything had become automatic. That was the point: You do. You don’t think anymore, you just do. Maggie had found it a life saver. The discipline had kept the bad girl inside at bay. The challenge kept her going. You don’t think; you do. People who didn’t understand army life would probably find that absurd. At a moment of intense fear, you just do and you live. Emotion and fear were the real killers. The enemy was just the one who pulled the trigger.
“The first phase has gone very well.” He announced proudly. “Congratulations.” The smart ass smile returned and surveyed the room. “I have just been informed that the VP of the US and the UN Secretary General will be arriving at Pearson about four hours from now.”
A few heads in the room nodded with satisfaction. Hey, maybe it’s going to be alright. Maybe we can do this. The chance to hit back loomed in front of their eyes. The emotional sweat of desperation was shed like old clothes.
“Guys,” He was looking around the room again with the intensity of a competitor. The old Otto Jay was back. He was the fighter and the enforcer, the guy who never backed down. “We can do this. There might be some who say we can’t.” He eyed Maggie briefly, Maggie’s eyes stay focused on her little spot on the wall. “We are way passed the time of sitting on our asses.”
There were scattered shouts of agreement. Maggie could hardly blame them. These were people who had grown up in Cabbage town, Little Italy and Scarborough. They had become resigned to the reality that they would never see their neighborhoods again.
The streets that had held so many memories and moments in their lives were gone. There are those who never return to the home they grew up in. That was fine. But to be told you could never return created the longing, the need. To be told you can never go home had a finality to it that awakened a yearning that lay just under the surface. It was a reminder that stank of defeat and failure. Now, a man was in the room who offered redemption.
“You’ve seen them. They are so slow.” He had a full head of steam now. “They caught us off guard before. But now, we’re ready.”
The clouds Maggie had seen earlier now began to produce a thick wall of raindrops. They tapped on the windows and cleansed the streets, washing away the memories of the past.
Patta-put patta put patta put. The downpour was becoming so intense that it created the illusion of the outside world being deluged in a sea. Distant thunder sounded the battle cry, lightening became a symbol to rally around.
“Now we draw them in and take them out.” He gestured with a meaty right hand for full effect. His smile returned to promise: “It’s gonna be like sending mosquitoes into a big bug zapper.”
One of Jay’s assistants stepped up to the General and whispered in his ear. Jay nodded and an order came in reply to the news. He then turned back to his audience.
“Well, it looks like they’ve taken the bait.” There was a confidence in his smile now. “Alright, it’s time to turn the tide and take back what is ours.”
A few “Hell Yeahs” punctuated the air. The older ones just picked up their helmets and rifles and in one motion headed toward the door with a growing mental checklist on their minds. The area around Pearson would have twice as many troops. Fine, getting them there was a first priority with double the ammunition a close second.
For Maggie, it started the moment she stood up. There was a fist like a knot in her stomach that seemed to stretch out its tentacles into her bloodstream. Her breathing began to match her increasing heartbeat and for a moment Maggie felt like she was going to explode. She tried to breathe normally but felt her fists began to clench up. Her stomach felt like a tiny, perfect hell. Focus on something, her eyes fell on Otto Jay. Okay, bad idea. He turned abruptly toward her.
“What the hell do you want, Corporal?” The smart ass smile pealed back and his volume paused the room. “Got your panties in a knot or something?”
“No sir,” Maggie snarled and turned to leave. Jay seemed to want to keep going but was interrupted by an aide with information. Maggie exited the room with a rising rage. At least it gave me something else to focus on. She pau
sed and slipped her helmet on. She had a platoon to get into position.
The front line troops had not been invited to the strategy session and they didn’t seem to miss it. They took cover amid tents and vehicles as the rain began to pelt down. Hard rain was always a sure sign the storm would be brief and followed by a crisp feeling of clear air. The humidity would take its time to rise a few minutes afterward. A few diligent soldiers had grabbed binoculars while the rain began to come down and scanned the firing zone. As the storm welled up in fury the visibility halved and halved again. Anyone with a soft spot for the dramatic would love the intensity of a summer storm rolling across the sky. The lightening played across the clouds like careless streaks from a painters brush. The thunder was a loud single note playing out in a drawn out echo.
Outlines at first that seemed vaguely familiar weaved in and out of clarity. The cloak of the rainstorm seemed to grow and shrink in thickness as the thunderstorm rolled through. Finally, the cloud’s had emptied and the meteorological tantrum was exhausted.
Full visibility…..
“Multiple hostiles! I repeat! Multiple hostiles!”
“Who is this?” The operator on the other end of the radio asked. “State your position.”
“427 and 401,” The voice had paused to collect himself, he then repeated: “Multiple hostiles!”
“Roger that, 427 and 401,” The radio operator at the command center seemed insanely calm. “How many are we talking?”
There was a pause and then the soldier’s voice returned, “Tens of thousands!”
“Say again, 427 and 401?” The voice at command seemed to have awakened.
“Fucking thousands!” The soldier was losing his temper, “How’s that?”
“Hang on, 427 and 401.” The voice at command was finally starting to understand. “Help is on the way.”
Maggie arrived in a bus with about a dozen others on the 401. They had just passed under the northbound 427 on ramp from the 401. Scattered rifle fire peppered the air. It was a rising panic response more than defense. At more than two hundred yards away the chance of killing anything was remote. Still, she saw a splash of red and a distant figure disappear in a wave of surging shapes. Maggie turned and looked back where they had come.
5 Years After Page 4