200 Miles to Liberty

by P. A. Glaspy

  He was interrupted by an aide who rushed into the meeting room. “Forgive me, Senor Rodriguez, but this couldn’t wait. We have news from America!”

  “Excellent! I was beginning to get worried that President Olstein hadn’t reached out to us yet.”

  “No, Sir, not President Olstein. President Roman. Phil Roman is the president now,” the aide replied, voice full of excitement. “President Olstein has been removed from office by the Joint Chiefs of Staff and Speaker Roman, who is now the acting president!”

  The room erupted in chaos as everyone jumped from their seats and started shouting at once. The words overthrown and coup were used many times.

  “This is unacceptable!” Margaret Owens shouted above the din. “They have no right to do this! Something must be done immediately!”

  Rodriguez pounded on the table with his fist. “Everyone! Calm down! Take your seats so we can address this newest concern.”

  He waited for them to settle down before he spoke again. “Obviously, things are much worse there than even we were made aware. If their military leaders were behind this, then it is indeed a military coup. You are correct, Ms. Owens, their Constitution has a process for impeachment of a sitting president, which they have clearly not followed. So, we now have an obligation to not only provide humanitarian relief, but to assist President Olstein in regaining control of the country. We will have to send all available peace-keeping troops to his aid.”

  “Perhaps we should speak to President Roman, if that is what we are to call him for now, and find out why they chose this path,” Nawaf Damji, the Kuwaiti representative, interjected. “It is clear we do not know the circumstances under which such a drastic move was made.”

  Rodriguez scowled and replied, “It doesn’t matter. This is no time for a complete upheaval of their governing body. We will send the peacekeepers to reinstate President Olstein, and then we will get to the bottom of this whole debacle.”

  “And what of the Joint Chiefs and Speaker Roman?” Damji asked.

  “They will be taken into custody and held until everything is sorted out. If it is found that there were valid reasons to remove Olstein from office, we will assist them in going through the proper channels according to their Constitution. They all took oaths to uphold it and to obey their president. It appears they have committed multiple violations of that oath.”

  Damji shook his head. “You are assuming they are guilty of treason without hearing the whole story. We know very little of what has been going on there since the power grid was taken down. President Olstein has always appeared to want more power than their Constitution afforded him. At least, that is how he seemed to me. Many times, he has voiced frustration in public statements at the constraints it put on his ability to effect the changes he wanted to make. In a catastrophic situation such as they now find themselves, I can’t help but think he would use this as an opportunity to begin enforcing new rules that would not be in the people’s best interest, while most certainly fulfilling his. I am not comfortable with this action. I am not in favor of a military action on the part of this body.”

  Murmurs began anew. Damji’s remarks had apparently sparked new thoughts on the situation. Rodriguez called for quiet.

  “Very well. We will send the peacekeepers with the relief items. Let me finish,” Rodriguez said, holding up his hand as he saw Damji about to voice another objection. “They will be tasked with safeguarding and distribution of the supplies. When they get there, however, they will also find out what the hell is going on. They will speak with Olstein, Roman, and the Joint Chiefs, along with anyone else in the White House, Congress, or Washington who can shed some light on this mess. Once we have the whole story, we will make a decision regarding further action. Is that acceptable to everyone?”

  Nods and verbal agreements were his answer. He stood up and picked the papers up that were lying on the table in front of him.

  “Then let’s get the Americans some help.”

  ~~~~~

  The bunker was quiet. Even Olstein had stopped his ranting and fallen asleep. The light footfalls of the Marine sentry on guard duty were the only sound for the most part. Well, that and General Everley’s snoring. It filled the barracks area. The men didn’t seem to be bothered by it. General Angie Bale, on the other hand, was having a hard time dealing with the noise.

  She got up and climbed out of the top bunk she had been in, trying to get some rest. She picked up her boots and padded out of the large room in her sock feet. As she passed him, she prodded Everley with her foot, causing him to roll over onto his side. The cacophony ceased. She looked around the room and whispered, “You’re welcome,” then went on out the doors. She stopped just outside and slipped into her boots. She was knelt down lacing them up when the sentry approached.

  “Everything okay, Ma’am?”

  She looked up at him with a smile and said softly, “Yes, everything is fine, Corporal. I couldn’t sleep so I decided to go check on comms and see if we had any updates.”

  “Would you like me to escort you there, Ma’am?”

  Finished with her boots, she stood up and replied, “No need. I think we may be in one of the most secure areas of the country at the moment. Carry on, Corporal.”

  “Yes, Ma’am.”

  Angie went down the hall to the communications room. As she opened the door, she heard a young ensign saying, “Yes, sir, I’ll relay your message to the president immediately.” At the sound of the door opening, the ensign turned around.

  “Good morning, Ma’am,” she said as she handed Angie some papers. “I was just speaking with Ambassador Wentz in Germany. He is working with the European countries coordinating relief efforts and supplies to be sent here ASAP. There was an emergency meeting of the U.N. in Austria and —”

  Angie’s head snapped up from the notes she was reading. “The U.N.?”

  “Yes, Ma’am. They are gathering troops to send here to help re-establish order, and they will be in charge of the disbursement of the supplies coming in. The Secretary-General sounded upset when I told him President Olstein wasn’t available.”

  “Well, this should be interesting, Ensign …” she waited for the young officer to finish her sentence.

  “Weaver, Ma’am. Debby Weaver.”

  Nodding, Angie went on. “When is all of this going to take place, Ensign Weaver?”

  Debby checked her notes. “Mr. Wentz said within a couple of days. That could be by Christmas. It’s hard to believe Christmas is just a couple of days away, isn’t it, Ma’am?”

  “Yes, it is, and I think it will be one to remember, Weaver. I guess I better start rousting people awake. Looks like it’s going to be a busy day, and we’ve got a lot to go over. If anything new develops, come get me.” Angie headed for the door.

  “Aye, aye, Ma’am.”

  When Angie stepped into the corridor, Lawrence, the executive chef, was making his way to the kitchen. She stopped him.

  “Excuse me, aren’t you the head chef? I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

  With a smile and a slight bow, he replied, “Yes, Ma’am. My name is Lawrence. Is there something you need?”

  “Yes. I’m not sure what your schedule is, but I need a couple of urns of coffee as soon as possible in the conference room. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”

  “It’s already brewing. I’ll have it brought in momentarily. Would you like me to go ahead and prepare breakfast, too?”

  “That’s probably a good idea. We’re going to be busy and will need some protein and carbs for brain fuel.”

  “I’ll get right on that, Ma’am,” Lawrence said, giving her another slight bow.

  “Thank you, Lawrence.” Angie continued on to President Roman’s quarters. Agent John Masters was standing by the door.

  “Good morning, Agent Masters. I hate to do it, but I’m going to need to wake the president.”

  With a slight nod of his head, Masters turned and knocked softly on the d
oor. From within, they heard a sleepy, “Come in.”

  Masters turned the knob and leaned his head in. “General Bale to see you, Sir.”

  Roman got up and slipped his tennis shoes on, having slept in his sweats on top of the comforter. “Send her in, John.”

  Masters pushed the door open for Angie. Once she was through, he closed it behind her. Roman yawned and scruffed his hair.

  “You know, the least you could do is bring me a cup of coffee when you wake me up after …” he paused and looked at the clock beside the bed. “… three hours’ sleep.”

  She chuckled and replied, “Sorry, Mister President. It’s on its way. Believe me, we’re all going to need it.”

  At her words, his eyebrows raised. “Has something happened?”

  “You could say that. Apparently, the U.N. has invited themselves in.”

  “What? Why?”

  Angie shrugged. “I guess they are going to be escorting the relief supplies here, then they’ll be in charge of distributing them. They’re also going to help us get things back under control, so they say.” She crooked her fingers in air quotes at the word “help”.

  “Who said we needed their help? We haven’t even had a chance to get started!” Phil was pacing the room as he spoke.

  “I’m not sure, Sir. But I think we need to find out, and quickly, before they get on the way here.”

  “Agreed. Get the other Chiefs up. Looks like our day has started without us.”

  Chapter 19

  Outside of the occasional stop to clear the road of abandoned vehicles, Damon and his crew made good time. The closer they got to Baltimore, though, the more anxious the occupants of the Humvee became. The horrific crime and homicide statistics from a city of just over half a million people made it a particularly dangerous place to be, under the best of circumstances. Under the ones they found themselves in then, they could only imagine what they would find there.

  They had discussed the route options during their break. Damon had taken the long way around on the 695 bypass for the trip up. It included a bridge across the Patapsco River. It also meant going a few miles out of the way. While they were all in a hurry to get to D.C., when David Tanner brought up staying on 95 and taking the tunnel to shorten the distance, he was quickly outvoted by the military men.

  “Sorry, Mr. Tanner, but that’s a choke point if there ever was one,” Hutch had responded. “On the bridge, we have some options. In the tunnel, those are gone. It’s narrow and might be impassable. If we have to stop to try to clear a path, we’ll be sitting ducks in a pitch-black concrete cave. Better to take the longer route. Plus, it puts us further outside of Baltimore. We want to stay away from that city center, if at all possible. The way it has declined over the years is tragic. My guess is, with things the way they are now, it’s extremely dangerous.”

  The rest of the group murmured their agreement as they discussed the possible hazards on the bridge. Hutch went on.

  “Even that far outside Baltimore, there could still be thugs or just desperate people out looking to ambush somebody trying to get across. We’re only about forty miles from the capital. I vote to wait for sunrise. It’s probably around thirty minutes away. We’d be able to see any potential problems better.”

  The consensus was that Hutch’s idea was sound, so they had taken their time getting back on the road. Their timing was good; they got to the interchange for 695 as the sun peeked out from the horizon.

  Damon was in the passenger seat, sharing the events of his trip north with the rest of the occupants. He pointed to the Walmart parking lot and told of the looters and chaos he had seen. Now, there were just a few people milling about in the parking lot. It was clear that anything which could be used to survive had long since been cleared out of the store. Windows and glass doors were shattered, showing only a dark entry from that distance. They saw no more human activity until they crossed the Back River.

  The first thing coming up on their right was a mobile home park. The ramp for Highway 150 and the entrance to the trailer park was just past an underpass. Hutch stopped the Humvee when he saw it.

  “Yeah, I’m going to say that’s a little suspect. What do you think, Sorley?”

  “No argument from me,” Damon replied. Everyone in the back leaned forward to see what they were talking about.

  There were large tarps hanging from the overpass on both sides of the expressway, obscuring their ability to see the spaces underneath Diamond Point Road, which crossed over 695 there. They could see the road but not the concrete abutment that started at the street level and went to the underside of the overpass. Damon pulled out his binoculars to try to get a better look.

  “I can’t see anybody from here, but I’m pretty sure that’s the point of the hides they’ve put up,” he said to no one in particular. “Better send some scouts. Easy getting out though — no way to know if there’s someone behind that with eyes on us already.”

  Hutch slowly opened his door, pausing for a moment in anticipation of an attack. When it stayed quiet, he got out, ducking his head below the top of the door, and ran, crouched down, to the back of the Humvee. A slight bend in the road where they sat and trees growing close to the shoulder gave him a bit of cover, so, after waiting a moment between the vehicle and the camper, he went on to the door. He pulled it open quickly and stepped inside.

  After relating the situation to his team, Marco exited and took up his sniper position on top. Stacy climbed into the Humvee to utilize the hatch for her spot. Darrell and Liz took up positions between the Humvee and trailer, rifles trained on the hidden areas behind the tarps. Hutch went back to the driver seat.

  “Light and Thompson are going to scout ahead, see if they see anything. We’ll follow them slowly. Maybe whoever hung those tarps is still sleeping. Here’s hoping anyway.”

  Dawn was coming on quickly, driving the darkness away and lighting up the world around them. Liz and Darrell had moved to the front of the Humvee and were walking toward the overpass, slightly crouched, rifles pointed in front of them. Hutch kept the armored vehicle creeping along behind them, staying close.

  A movement that slightly billowed the tarp on the right grabbed their attention. The rifle barrel that came through a previously unseen slit in the material caught the glint of the rising sun.

  “Gun!” Stacy shouted from above the hatch. She fired at the spot she had placed the metal reflection. Liz and Darrell stopped, then started backing up as fast as they could toward the relative safety behind the Humvee, while keeping their eyes trained on the now visible slit in the tarp. Liz was on the right side by the passenger door trying to find a target when they heard the shot. Blood spattered the side of the vehicle. The spray hit the windows as Melanie started screaming inside, while Corporal Elizabeth Thompson fell backward onto the snow-covered highway.

  Hutch burst out of the driver side leaving the door open so that Darrell and he could use it for some protection. All four remaining Guardsmen opened fire on the still unseen shooter’s assumed position. More shots started coming at them from behind the tarp on the left side of the overpass.

  “Thompson! Report!” Hutch called out as he and Darrell returned fire on the shooter in front of them. Liz didn’t respond.

  “I’m on the left!” Marco yelled. His rifle set to semi-automatic, he fired three-round bursts at the tarp, moving his shots from side to side, higher, then lower across its expanse.

  What seemed like minutes was actually seconds before Hutch called out, “Cease fire!”

  They waited for return fire to begin again, but none came.

  “Light, pop some smoke and get to that hide on the left. I’ll check on Thompson, then take the right. The Humvee stays here until we clear the road.” Hutch slammed the door and Damon locked them both.

  Staying low, Hutch went behind the Humvee and peered out from the right side. Liz was lying beneath the passenger door, a large circle of blood beneath her. He didn’t detect any movement. Bent over to keep hi
s profile low, he hurried to where she lay and knelt down beside her.

  “Manning! Perez! Cover me!”

  “Roger that,” they replied one after the other.

  Her eyes were closed as he stuck three fingers from his left hand against the side of her neck. He let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Softly, in a voice only she could hear, he whispered, “Yes! You’re alive! Let’s get you into some cover.”

  He grabbed the back of her vest and quickly dragged her to the camper door. Picking her up in a fireman’s carry, he opened the door and set her on the floor inside. Leaning back out, he called up to Marco.

  “Perez! I need a medic! Get in here and check her over!” Hutch had grabbed a roll of paper towels from the counter above, rolled a wad off, and was applying pressure to the wound on her shoulder right beside her vest. He lifted her off the floor enough to see her back.

  “Through and through. I’ll take it.” He took another wad of towels and placed that against the exit wound, then laid her back down. Coming in the door and grabbing his pack from the bench, Marco squatted down beside her. Hutch moved out of his way. Just as he was about to leave to get back to the task of clearing the road, her eyes fluttered open. Seeing her commanding officer standing over her, she spoke to him.

  “Cap?” she said, in a questioning tone.

  Hearing her voice, he turned back. “Hey, Thompson. You’re going to be fine. There’s an exit hole so we just need to get you patched up.”

  “Okay, but Cap?”

  “Yeah?”

  “This getting shot business is getting old.”

  Marco chuckled as he was cleaning her wound. “Yeah, twice in one day is a bit of a long shot, Lizzie. What say you stay in until we get to D.C.?”

  Hutch grinned at her comment and nodded at Marco’s reply. “That sounds like a good idea to me. Consider yourself on leave, Corporal.”