by James Rosone
“Do you want command wire control, infrared, or remote control?” Jake asked next.
Slevin snorted at the question. “Man, I used to hate IEDs. Now you’re asking me which one of those nasty little death devices I want.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Let’s start with command wire first. As they adapt, we’ll adapt. Let’s not give away our toolbox of what we have available to us right away. This could be a long insurgency.”
Jake smiled. “I agree. I’ll make the bombs. When I make the command wire, I’ll give you guys at least two hundred feet. I’ll show you how to increase that if you want, but if I start making these half-mile-long command wire detonators, I’m going to run out of wiring.”
Slevin nodded. “Not a problem. We’ll get the wiring. Don’t worry about a long command wire. Just give us fifty feet, and we’ll rig them up the way we need them. How many bombs can you get us in a week?”
“Well, since you asked, I have four in my truck right now I can give you. They’re each about two pounds of C-4, wrapped in about four inches of roofing nails, nuts and washers. Best I could come up with on short notice. I could crank out a lot more if you can get me some artillery shells or mortars, but if I have to stick to the C-4, there’s only going to be so many I can dish out.”
“Oh man, I knew you were the right guy for the job,” Slevin said, slapping Jake on the shoulder. “OK, here’s what I want you to do. We’ll send you a coded message on Tuesdays at 1000 hours and 1700 hours. You’ll either be told to bring the IEDs to a location on Thursday, or you’ll be told to bring them to Miller’s Quick Lube on Saturdays. You bring however many IEDs you’re able to build, and we’ll take ’em. If I can come across some mortar or artillery shells, I’ll find a way to get them to you. Got it?”
“Sure thing, Al. Piece of cake,” Jake replied nonchalantly. They both chuckled.
After stitching up some last-minute details, they spent the next ten minutes walking back to their trucks. Once the transfer had been successfully made of the completed IEDs to Slevin’s truck, they went their separate ways.
*******
Port of Balboa, Panama
Lieutenant General Song Puxuan of the 20th PLA Army Group stood in one of the control towers that overlooked the massive port. A broad smile spread across his face. Without a shot fired, his forces had captured the entire port, and even now, they were offloading his heavy armor and air defense equipment.
The capture of the Panama Canal was critical to their strategy of dividing the US Navy and clearing the Pacific of enemy threats. Now that the conflict had officially started, it was imperative that his ground force get offloaded and finish capturing the rest of the country. In the coming weeks, a steady gravy train of supplies would begin to show up, bound for Mexico and the US southern border.
One of his aides appeared next to him. “General, you said to let you know when General Loa arrived. His plane just landed.”
General Song nodded at the news. He took one last look at the two roll-on, roll-off freighters being unloaded and then turned to head down the stairs back to the ground floor. A vehicle was waiting to take him over to the airport nearby.
As he exited the control tower, General Song felt the warm, moist air hit his skin. It was strangely comforting—certainly much more pleasant than the hostile winter weather he undoubtedly would have been feeling back in Beijing.
A lieutenant held his door open as he approached the blacked-out SUV. General Song directed his driver to take him over to the airport. He wanted to greet the air force counterpart who was going to be responsible for airlifting over many of his soldiers. With the war now raging along the American-Canadian border, it was a race against time to get his force assembled and ready for action.
When they pulled up to the Albrook International Airport, a pair of civilian guards saw their vehicle and the special placard they had in the windshield and waved them past the gate. Once inside the facility, they drove over to where several military transport aircraft were parked.
As they approached the large aircraft, General Song observed a lot of military personnel getting one of the Type 95 self-propelled anti-aircraft artillery guns set up. Another crew was hard at work getting a lone HQ-9 surface-to-air missile system unpacked. They’d hopefully have the system up and running in a few more hours. Although he didn’t anticipate any immediate threats, Song wanted to have their air defense systems operational as soon as possible.
General Song continued to scan the area until he saw the man he was looking for, pointing toward part of the airport. “Driver, head over to that lean-looking man near the airport officials,” he ordered.
Once they pulled up to him, Song’s driver stopped and swiftly hopped out to get the door. General Song exited the vehicle and walked up to his Chinese Air Force counterpart. “General Loa, it’s good to see you. How was the flight over?” he asked pleasantly.
Lieutenant General Loa turned to face him, sweat running down his anxious-looking face. “It was good, General Song, but we have much work that needs to be done. Has your equipment arrived in the port?”
Song nodded. “It has. Our equipment is being offloaded and made ready. Are the planes carrying my men still on schedule?”
“They are. They should start to arrive in the coming hours,” General Loa answered. Then, as if he anticipated a question about how long all of this was going to take, he continued, “As you requested, the men from the 60th Mechanized Infantry Brigade will arrive first, followed by the air defense brigade and then the 16th Armor Brigade. Those are the soldiers slated to arrive today. The rest of your force will arrive over the coming three days. It’s a long commute for our planes to have to make, General.”
*******
Perrysburg, Ohio
Adam Rutman sat in his recliner with his wife, watching the news in utter shock and horror.
We’re really being invaded, he thought. He really couldn’t believe it had come to this.
“Do you think Jimmie is up there?” asked his wife, Lucinda, with a fearful look on her face. “You know, fighting in Detroit?”
Lifting his beer to his lips, Adam finished off the bottle before he responded. “I don’t know, honey. His unit was up in Detroit though, so I’d have to think he probably is.”
“Oh, Adam. What’re we going to do? What if they make it all the way down here to Perrysburg? What do we do then?” she asked, clearly fighting back tears.
Adam could understand why his wife was so distraught. Their nephew, Jimmie, had become kind of a son to them, and it now appeared that he was in harm’s way. Unfortunately, Adam and Lucinda hadn’t been able to have children themselves, but they’d been very involved in the lives of the three sons Adam’s brother had had. Jimmie, the oldest of the three, had always said he wanted to be a soldier when he grew up and had joined the Army as soon as he’d turned eighteen. Now it looked like his unit was going to be turned into a mere speed bump between the UN army and the rest of the American Midwest.
“You should give Rich a call tomorrow,” Lucinda said. “He’d know what to do.” Then she got up and headed off to another room, clearly too distraught to watch the news any longer.
Adam sighed. He knew he needed to do something. He thumbed through his smartphone until he found the number he was looking for in his contacts.
Richard McVeigh was an old Army buddy of his. They’d been part of the same platoon in the 101st Airborne during the first Gulf War back in ’91. Adam had gotten out of the military shortly after the war, but Richard had stayed in and made it a career. They’d kept in touch over the years, especially once Rich had retired from the Army and settled in about an hour away. His friend was a bit over-the-top at times as a prepper and conspiracy theorist, but Adam cut him some slack since his extreme views worked well with his business.
Richard ran a small outdoor rifle range outside of town. Perrysburg was just south of Toledo, so Rich maintained a lot of contracts with the neighboring cities’ police departments. His
business had become a full-service shooting range and training facility for local police and SWAT teams and gun enthusiasts. Rich’s hard work had paid off well for him, and when he made his firearm and ammunition purchases, he mostly did so through Adam’s store, which had been a godsend on more than one occasion.
The phone rang once before Adam heard his friend’s voice.
“Adam, just the man I needed to talk with. I was literally just about to dial you,” Rich said with a chuckle.
Joining in the laughter himself, Adam replied, “I think we need to talk. Can you stop by the shop tomorrow? Say around eight a.m.?”
“Yeah, I can do that,” Rich answered. “Don’t you open at ten, though?”
“Normally, yes, but I think we should talk before I open the shop. I have a feeling I’m going to be super busy tomorrow, if you catch my drift.”
“You’re telling me. I’ve had half a dozen people calling me tonight, asking what’s going on, like I have some Batphone to the White House.”
The two of them laughed again before they hung up. They’d talk more tomorrow in person.
*******
Adam arrived at his storefront around 7 a.m. After letting himself in, he quickly locked the door and rearmed the security system. He made sure one of the AR-15s in the office was loaded and another under the front counter was also ready. He also put his level IV body armor on. He wasn’t messing around today. He knew he’d have a lot of scared, concerned people coming in to buy him out of everything he had. He just wanted to make sure no one tried to rob him.
He double-checked his electronic payment devices to make sure they were still working. Thankfully they did, which meant he could still accept people’s debit and credit cards. Steadily, he got the rest of his shop ready. Two of his other employees showed up early, just as he had requested. Adam had them doing an inventory of what ammo they had in the warehouse and how many rifles and magazines they had. He also had them each open carry a sidearm and wear body armor as well. When his other two employees arrived right before the store would open, he’d place them as guards outside the front entrance. He didn’t expect trouble, but he sure wasn’t going to sit around and allow an attack to happen either.
At eight o’clock, Adam got a call. Looking at the caller ID on his smartphone, he saw it was Richard. “Rich. You out back?” Adam asked.
“Yeah. Just got here. You do want me to come to the back door, right?”
“Yes. Knock twice, no more. I’ll let you in. Is anyone outside yet? Do you see anyone else milling around?”
There was a pause for a second on the other line before his friend replied. “Not that I can see. Honestly, it’s pretty quiet outside right now. That’ll probably change in another hour as people start to hit the stores.”
A minute later, Adam heard the two knocks. Before he opened the door, he disabled the alarm and then pulled his pistol out and had it ready. When Rich walked in, he held his hands up in mock surrender.
“Whoa, cowboy. You’re the one who invited me, remember?”
Adam nodded and holstered his sidearm. “Sorry. You can’t be too careful these days—not with all that’s happening. Come with me back to my office.”
He locked the back door, and the two of them walked to the other side of the store, where Adam’s personal office was located. When they walked in, Adam closed the door and took a seat behind his desk.
“So, Adam, why’d you drag my butt all the way into town? I’ve got a ton of people coming out to the range later this afternoon.”
Looking his friend over with a hard stare, Adam finally said, “Rich, I know you run in some hardcore prepper circles, and that’s cool with me. I sell a lot of firearms and other stuff to that crowd.”
Rich nodded.
Adam continued. “First, I want you to know that I’m going to be burning all the records of people who’ve purchased a firearm at this store—I’m not about to let them fall into the hands of the UN and their goon squads. So tell your people, if they bought a gun from me, they’re safe. Second, I’m not doing any more background checks. I don’t want any of that data to fall into the wrong hands when they get here. I’m not sure if you saw the news this morning, but it looks like our boys are getting their butts kicked around Detroit. That means it won’t be long before they’re on their way to Toledo.”
Rich held up a hand. “I get it, Adam. We all do. We know what’s coming. You want to know if you can help, right?”
Adam didn’t say anything for a second, then he nodded. “What can I do?” he asked in a soft voice.
Rich leaned in and pulled a notepad out of the breast pocket of his jacket. “We’re putting together a militia of folks that regularly shoot at the range. We don’t really need rifles or even ammo, but there are other supplies we could use.”
“If I have it, it’s yours,” Adam replied.
Smiling, Rich handed him the list of what they needed. It consisted of mostly camping gear, but there were some other interesting items on the unassuming scrap of paper—black powder, signal flares, two-way radios, and camouflage type netting. It was the kind of stuff you’d normally use to set up a deer or duck blind.
Adam almost breathed a sigh of relief when he realized Rich was essentially taking him in to whatever militia force they were going to create. He knew he wasn’t the most physically fit guy, but he had enough stuff in his store to supply a small force, and he planned on doing just that.
“I’ll find out later today what additional stuff we may need, but the one item I’d like you to hold back on would be some .22-caliber rifles and at least ten thousand rounds of ammo for them. We may need them for hunting and potentially trading in a few months,” Rich explained. “Make sure you keep the survival gear and batteries in the back. I know we’ll need those, since we won’t be able to get replacements once we fall behind enemy lines.”
“What about ammo, my handguns, or other assault rifles?” Adam asked. “Should I hold on to those for your people?”
Rich waved a hand as if to swat away the question. “No. Our people all have their own rifles, and most of them have already stocked up on ammo. Let everyone else buy them. Besides, the more people that own them now before the UN shows up, the better.
“As to ammo—don’t bother. We’ll be able to take plenty off the dead, and if we have to, we’ll swap out our weapons for theirs to make finding new ammo easier. It’s some of the other consumable items, like batteries and those other items I gave you, that’ll be hard to replace once the occupation settles in.”
Adam smiled. “Thanks for coming down here, Rich. I wanted to help but I honestly didn’t know how. Plus, it’s a good thing you got here to claim what you want before I open—I have a feeling most of my store is going to get bought out today.”
“Well if that’s the case, make sure you raise your prices a bit,” Rich responded with a chuckle. “No reason to have a sale. Besides, hopefully the profits will help cover the cost of everything we’re going to need. I don’t want to put you in a lurch financially.”
Adam shrugged his shoulders. “That’s what insurance is for. Once we get everything we need, we’ll make sure the place is ‘looted and firebombed’ so we can file an insurance claim for a total loss.”
Rich laughed at Adam’s use of air quotes. “I’m sure we have some folks who can help with that to make it legit,” he replied with a wink. He stuck out his hand to shake Adam’s. “Welcome to the team, Adam. I know this is going to be a huge help to have you in the ranks. I’ve got your back on this one, buddy.”
The two talked for a bit more until Adam’s two other employees showed up. By noon, his place was packed with people trying to buy rifles, ammo, bows and arrows. It was a bonanza of a sales day.
Later that evening, Rich and some of his guys showed up with a few trucks. They drove around to the back of the shop and parked near the warehouse. They loaded up the stuff they’d agreed on and then headed out to their headquarters.
By the time Ad
am left the store that night, he didn’t have a single firearm left in the place. He estimated he probably had maybe a quarter of his store shelves left with any items at all. He’d stay open another day or two and then close up for good. At this point, it looked like the UN forces might actually be in Toledo to their north in another two or three days.
Chapter 14
Operation Payback
Washington, D.C.
White House, PEOC Bunker
“Sir, it wasn’t a nuclear weapon that hit Raven Rock,” reported General Estrada from NORAD.
“Are you sure?” asked Vice President Powers.
“Yes, sir. The Chinese bombers hit the bunker with four Russian-made Father of all Bombs.”
“Bunker-busters?” Powers inquired.
“Correct,” Estrada confirmed. “They’re essentially the Russian version of the American MOAB. The Chinese hit all four bunker entrances with these thermobaric bombs. They most likely penetrated the bunker and incinerated everyone and everything inside it.”
“Have they found the President?”
“Not yet, sir. Due to the destructive nature of the bombs and the intense fire they created inside the facility, rescuers have been unable to get inside yet.”
Powers sighed. “Well, update me if you have any new information on that front.”
“Yes, Mr. Vice President,” Estrada responded. He let out a deep breath. “Sir, the other entrance to the tunnel system at Camp David was also hit, and it collapsed. A team of engineers is hard at work, trying to open the tunnel back up and see if, by some miracle, Sachs and his small detail were somehow trapped in the tunnel between the two facilities during the missile strike. If that happened, there might still be a chance that they’re alive…although, if I’m being completely honest, I wouldn’t hold too much hope out for that.”
“Understood.”
They were now ten hours into the war. General Estrada and General Tibbets spent the next fifteen minutes briefing the new acting President on the information that was starting to filter in from across the armed forces. With each contact report and battle update, the big picture of where the enemy was attacking and what strategies they were implementing seemed a bit clearer.