200 Miles to Liberty

by P. A. Glaspy

  “What do you want us to do, Elliott?” Amanda asked as she pulled the TIG out and checked there was a round in the chamber.

  “Get someone at each window on the front. Give me a minute to get out and ask them who they are and what they’re doing here. Then just slide the curtain aside so they see the movement and the barrel of a gun in the window. I want to make sure they know, without a doubt, there are people here who are willing to fight for this place.”

  “How do you know they aren’t just looking for help, Elliott?” Lauri was standing in the kitchen doorway with a dishtowel in her hands, twisting it in agitation.

  “Because they haven’t come to the door to ask for help. Makes me think what they want is to take. That ain’t gonna happen.”

  Chapter 21

  General Charles Everley was stomping around the room, sloshing coffee out of his cup with every step.

  “You know what’s going to happen, right? They’ll get here and we’ll never get them out. Those peacekeeping forces are like warts. They burrow in, are hard to get rid of, and keep coming up with reasons to stay.”

  “Charles, please calm down. At least put your coffee on the table. You’re making a mess.” President Phil Roman looked from the irate general to Ensign Debby Weaver, who had taken the message. Angie brought her in at Roman’s request. Noticing she was standing at attention, Phil said, “At ease, Ensign. I’d like to hear more about the Secretary-General’s reaction to President Olstein not being available.”

  The junior officer placed her hands behind her back and moved her left foot slightly away from her right. Addressing the president, she replied, “I sensed concern in his tone, Sir, but he didn’t press the issue. It was almost like he was expecting that answer.”

  “He was. Our earlier call to them has, no doubt, been shared throughout the Security Council. They know we removed Olstein from office. They don’t know why. The fact that he didn’t ask …,” Phil paused, giving the ensign a chance to dispute his statement. She shook her head, so he went on. “… leads me to the conclusion that they have already made up their minds that we were in the wrong.”

  Phil nodded at Angie. She addressed the young lady. “That will be all, Ensign Weaver.”

  Snapping to attention, she replied, “Aye, aye, Ma’am.” Executing a smart about-face, she went out the door, closing it behind her. Phil addressed the Chiefs.

  “Charles is right. We’ll be hard-pressed to get the peacekeepers out if they come in. The council has been trying to insert themselves here for some time, in an attempt to chip away at the Second Amendment, among other things. This may get ugly.”

  “If?” Angie asked. “Can we keep them out? How? We barely have enough boots on the ground to secure the White House.”

  “Oh, we have more troops,” Charles replied. “We just have to get out and find them here at home or bring them back from wherever they’re stationed. We have no comms with any of the bases here, but we are in communication with our people abroad. Olstein wanted to get them back here to terrorize the American people, to get them to fall into his line. If the peacekeepers show up uninvited, I call that an invasion, and that is more than enough reason to recall them. Once we get them here, we can send teams out to gather more.”

  “Don’t they need our consent to come in?” General Anton Masters interjected. “We haven’t asked them to assist, not with peacekeeping measures. Their claim that the troops will be here to disperse aid sounds a bit contrived to me.”

  “Yes, they are supposed to get consent. I’ll be placing a call to the Secretary-General as soon as we finish up here to see if I can get him to admit what their true intentions are. Charles, I’d like you and General Bale to contact the bases outside the affected zone and put their commanding officers on alert that we may need our forces back here sooner rather than later. Leave all of our assets in Asia where they are, particularly the ones in South Korea, China, and Japan. In fact, let’s tighten up that area and get as many boots on the ground in South Korea as we can. I’d like to see the Chairman sweat a little.” President Roman looked at his notes, then went on. “Any units we can get back here in twelve hours or less should be put on the highest alert, ready to move at a moment’s notice. That should make for a nice welcoming party for the peacekeepers, if they do indeed show up. I intend to try to persuade the Secretary-General to rethink that strategy. I doubt it will work. The U.N. views this situation in the same light Olstein did — a chance to oppress the American people, to constrain our liberties and change the course of our future, more than this event has already done. I won’t sit idly by and let that happen. I hope we are all on the same page here.”

  “You’re damn skippy we are!” Charles blurted out. “I could have left day one with Admiral Stephens and headed off to the woods of Tennessee. I chose to stay and try to do whatever I could to stop Olstein from making this worse than it already was. I think we’re doing that. I’m not giving up now!”

  Calls of “Hell yeah!”, “Damn right!” and other affirmations filled the room. President Roman smiled and nodded.

  “Excellent. Now let’s get to work.”

  ~~~~~

  Margaret Owens was not happy. She had followed Rodriguez to his office.

  “Why did you back down, Arturo? You were right in the first place. If President Olstein had a plan, then I’m sure it would have been what was best for their country. He’s been in office for eight years. I can’t even comprehend a scenario that would need this kind of drastic action so quickly after a catastrophe of this magnitude. He has more experience leading the country than Roman. He has never tried to act outside of the confines of his office.”

  “Only because Congress and their Constitution prevented him from doing so,” Secretary-General Rodriguez replied as he removed his suit coat and hung it up. “Whether or not we agree with all the aspects of it, that document was written to prevent certain things from happening no matter the circumstances. Damji wasn’t wrong about Olstein. He has always had an agenda, always looking for an opening to grab more power or control. I’m pretty sure he had designs on gaining a position with the council. But Damji was also right about needing to find out what’s going on over there and why these steps were taken. I may have jumped the gun assuming wrongdoing on the part of the Chiefs and Speaker Roman. We’ll get to the bottom of it.”

  “I disagree. This was not the time to engineer a coup and create a major upheaval in their leadership! They need an experienced leader now more than ever. I can’t imagine —”

  “No, you can’t. Neither can I,” Rodriguez said, cutting her off. “I can’t imagine what is going on over there or how they are dealing with life without electricity … and in winter, no less. My guess is the larger cities are in complete chaos, with criminals running rampant in the streets. Looting, theft, rape, and murder are most assuredly widespread. When there are no consequences, the devils come out to play.”

  Owens threw her hands in the air. “What do you mean there are no consequences? Of course, there are! Breaking the law is still a crime whether the lights are out or not.”

  “And who is enforcing those laws?” he asked with a slight note of condescension. “Do you envision that the police have reported for work every day like nothing untoward has happened? How would they be able to travel to a crime scene? For that matter, how would they even know about it?”

  Owens opened her mouth to respond then closed it. “Well, I … I mean, they could …”

  “Exactly. We rely on electricity for everything. To communicate, travel, and feed ourselves; to stay warm in the winter and cool in the summer; to purify our water and make our waste disappear. We are a society dependent on technology, and without it most people wouldn’t survive.

  “And Li Qiang brought up a very valid point. This attack is not just on the United States. It has far-reaching effects, possibly worldwide. The American dollar is quite possibly worthless now. The monies the American government sends to foreign nations has stopped. Th
ey can’t pay their debts. What countries like China and Japan will do to recoup their loans is anybody’s guess. This is not going to be a quick relief effort. It will take years, if ever, for them to get back to where they were. I don’t know if the nations of this body can afford to provide that kind of long-term assistance, when many of them were relying on aid from the United States.”

  Rodriguez paused, seemingly deep in thought. Owens pounced. “What are you saying, Arturo? We are going to send food and water and provide relief efforts, aren’t we?”

  “Short term, yes,” Rodriguez replied with a furrowed brow. “I just don’t know how long we can sustain that support.”

  Owens’ eyebrows raised into her hairline. “They’re one of the original members! Our headquarters is there, in that country. We can’t just turn our backs on them.”

  Rodriguez looked at her. “So, how long do you think we can provide a country of millions with food and water?”

  “Well, I don’t know … a few months? Surely they can get back on the right track in that time.”

  Rodriguez laughed. “How? If the transformers are fried — and I’m talking about the big ones at the power plants — it will take years to get them replaced. They cost millions of dollars. Each. And guess where most of them are made? China. I don’t see them getting in a hurry to build equipment for a country that won’t be able to pay for it for God knows how long, on top of the debt they already have with China that they aren’t currently paying on. They’re going to need a lot of help for a long time. I’m not sure the rest of the world is going to want to provide that assistance for years.”

  “Then what will they do? How will they live?” Owens had a look of fear on her face. “Do we just leave them to fend for themselves?”

  “Why do you care so much, Margaret? I detected disdain in your voice earlier for the Americans.”

  “I detest their culture of guns,” she replied gruffly. “All the mass shootings, especially at schools — it’s unnecessary and preventable if they would put more restrictions on them. But that doesn’t mean I want to stand by and watch them all die of hunger or disease or be killed for their food or shelters.”

  “I ask again — why do you care whether or not we help them?”

  Owens looked down at her hands for a moment, then back up at the Secretary-General. “What if it was my country that had been attacked by that crazy little git? Or yours? Could we so nonchalantly deny our own people their basic needs? The United States has always answered the call of any nation that asked for their help. How can we turn our backs on them in their hour of need?”

  Rodriguez sat heavily in the chair behind his desk. He put his head in his hands and mumbled through them, “Unless someone figures a way out of this for them, how can we not?”

  Chapter 22

  The roadblock consisted of a Humvee sitting at an angle with a car on either side. They had already crossed Bear Creek and were on the Francis Scott Key Bridge, crossing the Patapsco River. They couldn’t turn around. There was no way to get past it.

  “I think we’re about to find out who them is,” Damon said as he slowed to a stop.

  “Son of a bitch,” Hutch grumbled as he checked his rifle, making sure he had a round chambered. Manning had stayed in the Humvee and was in the back with Agent Stephens. She started toward the turret opening. Stephens laid a hand on her arm.

  “I’ll take it. You protect them.” He motioned with his head toward the Tanners, then proceeded to the spot between them. He pushed the lid up quickly and dropped back down. Stephens waited for incoming fire. It was quiet. He rose into the turret and trained his rifle on the man in fatigues who had risen behind the roadblock. He directed his voice quietly into the cabin.

  “Okay to find out what they want, Major?”

  “I’ve got a feeling we already know what they want but, yeah, go ahead and ask,” Damon replied. “And be careful.”

  With a quick nod, Stephens directed his raised voice in front of them. “We’re going to need you to move that vehicle. We’re on official business.”

  The man behind the other Humvee smiled. “Our business is official, too. We’re gonna need you to vacate that vehicle nice and slow. Leave your weapons inside and come out with your hands up.”

  “And what agency are you with?” Stephens said calmly.

  “Homeland Security.” The man’s smile never wavered.

  Stephens shook his head slightly. “I don’t think so. Homeland doesn’t wear fatigues. They wear police uniforms.”

  The man’s smile changed to a smirk. “Well, we’re the new Homeland Security. We wear whatever the hell we want to.”

  Stephens continued his line of questioning. “I see. And who issued your orders and assigned you to this location?”

  “We’re what you might call a fringe unit.” At that, five more men’s heads showed up from behind the vehicles, rifles pointed at Stephens and various points on the Humvee. “We decide where we’re working. And another Humvee will help us continue our work.”

  “And what work would that be?” Stephens asked, seemingly unfazed by the additional men.

  “It’s classified.” The man and his cohorts laughed loudly. “I could tell ya, but then I’d have to kill ya.”

  “Good luck with that.” Stephens put his eye to the scope of his rifle. “I’m done talking now. Move or this gets ugly.”

  The man crouched down so that just his head was visible when Stephens leaned into the scope. “I don’t think you understand the situation here. This is our area. This is our bridge. We say who comes and goes. We don’t take orders from nobody! I got five guys here. Who do you think you are?”

  “I’m a Secret Service agent. I have military personnel with me. They’re trained for fighting assholes like you who think they can take advantage of other people when something catastrophic happens. We’re under orders from the Joint Chiefs, and we will carry out those orders, even if it means going through you. This is your last warning. Move that vehicle!” He shouted the last words for all to hear.

  The door to the camper opened and Darrell and Marco exited. Darrell moved up between the Humvee and camper, while Marco hurried to the rear to climb the ladder to the roof, assuming his regular position of overwatch. Hutch climbed out of the passenger door and, with his rifle trained on the roadblock, walked backward to join Darrell behind it. The man’s eyes widened, but he didn’t speak again.

  Hutch yelled out, “Call your mark!”

  “Left!” Darrell replied.

  “Right!” Hutch followed.

  “Left!” Marco answered from the top of the camper.

  “Right!”

  The female voice got everyone’s attention.

  “Thompson?” Hutch asked over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off the roadblock.

  “I’m good, Cap. Far right is mine.” Her voice was tinged with pain, but strong, nonetheless. Hutch let a slight grin touch his lips, then focused his attention on the business at hand.

  The movement of the soldiers into tactical positions had the desired effect on the bandits. The cocky attitudes were replaced with more subdued facial expressions on men who were quickly exposing much less of their vital organ areas to anyone who might want to use them for targets. The spokesman and assumed leader’s face had changed from a self-assured smirk to an uncertain scowl.

  “We’re not moving!” he shouted to Stephens. “I hope whoever is driving that thing is good at backing a trailer, because it’s a long way off this bridge. Or, we can make a deal. Leave us some of your supplies — food, guns, ammo — and we’ll call it a toll. Oh, and we’ll take the girl, too.”

  “We don’t make deals.” Stephens still had his eye on the scope with the man in his sight. “But … I’ll make an exception just this once.”

  The man’s face changed to a leering grin. Stephens went on.

  “The deal is you move that Humvee and let us pass, and we’ll let you live. Otherwise, this won’t end well for you. The deal exp
ires in thirty seconds.”

  The man’s face changed again, this time to rage. “You don’t make the deal! We do! And I’m done talking now!” The man began to crouch as he started raising his own rifle. His men followed suit. That is, until they saw their leader’s head snap back from the impact of the bullet. The spray from the exploding hole in the back of his skull splattered the men on either side of him with blood and brain matter. Their eyes grew wide as all of them tried to make themselves as small as possible behind the cover of the cars.

  Stephens had ejected his spent shell casing and chambered a new cartridge. In a calm voice devoid of emotion, he called out, “Okay, now who’s in charge over there?”

  None of the remaining men spoke or even showed their faces. Stephens waited just a moment and continued. “Well, if none of you want to take over for your idiot former spokesman, then I’d suggest you come out with your hands up where we can see them. Nice and slow. No sudden or stupid moves like your dead buddy. Do it now!”

  The first thing Stephens and the soldiers saw were five pairs of hands rising from behind the cars. The remaining men stood slowly, almost tentatively, eyes wide and full of fear. They weren’t fully upright — more of a crouching stance — as if they wanted to keep their options open to drop back behind cover, if needed.

  “Good boys. I’m going to need you to come on out in front of those cars and kneel down and keep your hands where we can see them.” Stephens watched them through the scope as he delivered the instructions. When they had all complied, Hutch took over, stepping out from behind the Humvee.

  “Is that everybody? Because if I see any movement from behind those cars, it won’t end well for any of you.” Hutch eyed the men waiting for an answer. When none came, he shouted, “Speak up! Is there anybody else out here?”