Sons of War

by Nicholas Sansbury Smith

  “No fucking way.”

  “We did the same thing after the first Civil War, North and South working side by side to heal wounds and rebuild. Sometimes, the hard way is the only way.”

  Ronaldo took a moment to digest the news before responding. “So, you’re telling me we’re going from the Marine Corps to the LAPD or Sheriff’s Department?”

  “Nobody’s ordering you, brother. You get to make the call, but there aren’t many jobs out there right now.” Marks looked over his shoulder at Bettis and Tooth, who were talking to a couple of dockworkers.

  “What are you going to do?” Ronaldo asked, though he could tell that Marks’s mind was already made up.

  “LAPD. Going to fight the gangs. I’m not good for much else but fighting, and there’s still an enemy that wants to tear the country apart.”

  “Jesus,” Ronaldo said. “All this time, I just wanted to retire and spend my time at home with Elena and the kids. But the Corps is my second family.”

  “I know, brother. I know.” He sighed and pulled his mask back up over his mouth and nose. “The announcement will be coming in the next few days, but I wanted you to hear it from me first.”

  “Thanks,” Ronaldo said. “Elena will be happy, that’s for sure. But now I need to find a way to pay for a new house, and no way in hell we’re going to live in public housing. It’s going to be a stomping ground for the gangs.”

  “I know. And that’s another reason the city needs us.”

  Ronaldo took in a breath of filtered air that still reeked of rotting fish. He kicked a rock into a surf full of scales and white bellies. The shoreline was ripe with death and decomp.

  “There’s something else too,” Marks said. “I heard Lieutenant Castle’s been moved from a field hospital in San Diego to LA.”

  “No shit?” Ronaldo turned from the rocky beach. “Well, that’s some good news, at least. Maybe we can go see him soon.”

  “Yeah, but he’s paralyzed from the waist down. Going to be in a wheelchair the rest of his life.”

  Ronaldo remembered holding the marine while he bled in the dirt outside Phoenix. It was remarkable that the guy had survived at all, but knowing Lieutenant Castle, he would continue to serve his country one way or another.

  A horn blared in the distance.

  “Here we go,” Marks said.

  They looked out at a massive red container ship with a big one stenciled on the side, slowly sailing toward the harbor.

  “Come on,” Marks said.

  They jogged back to Tooth and Bettis. Both marines stood near a crane, their rifles cradled, watching the tugboats push and pull the monstrous ship to its berth.

  “Holy shit, that’s a big mother,” Tooth said.

  One of the longshoremen hanging out below a crane joined the four marines.

  “This is it,” he said. “The one we’ve been waiting for, and the reason you boys are here, I reckon.”

  “Why? What’s on that beast?” Tooth asked.

  Ronaldo studied the ship. There had to be hundreds of containers on the deck, but there was something else. Massive gray cylinders that looked like some sort of sewer pipes.

  “A gift from the emperor of Japan,” said the dockworker.

  “Gift?” Bettis asked.

  “Advanced desalination technology that isn’t energy intensive,” Marks chimed in. “It’s going to solve the biggest problem Los Angeles faces in the recovery.”

  “You knew about this?” Ronaldo asked.

  Marks nodded.

  “About this … meaning what, exactly?” Tooth said. “What else are you keeping from us, Gunny?”

  While the tugs pushed the container ship closer to its berth, Ronaldo walked away to let Marks share the news with the men. For the first time in his life, he had no idea what he was going to do for a job, or how he was going to feed his family. In his heart, he knew that besides being a husband and a father, he was meant to be one thing: a marine.

  * * *

  The stage was set, and thousands of people had come out to watch the politicians sell their snake oil that would magically heal the city and the country.

  Don Antonio was present, but not for the same reason. Unlike most of these people, he knew that the United States was history. The country would never return to the greatness it had once achieved. Hundreds of thousands of people were dying from radiation poisoning in the nuclear wastelands that the crazed former president had spread across the land. Even more were dying from starvation, dehydration, and communicable disease.

  The economy was destroyed, and most of the world had plunged into darkness. The twenty-first century had started off with a technological and medical bang, and the country’s population had grown—not because of immigration or a rise in birth rate, but because people were enjoying longer lives.

  That was then. The apocalypse had changed all that, and the Moretti family was reaping the benefits of the fallout, literal as well as figurative.

  Antonio walked up the narrow rows of the Hollywood Bowl amphitheater with Christopher. For the first time in a month, he had left his family at their new compound at the former Commerce Hotel. Marco and Lucia were in good hands with Raff and the other soldiers.

  Antonio hadn’t left the safety of his new fortress just to lap up the latest load of horseshit from the politicians and crooked cops. Despite the dangers in leaving his compound, he had business to attend to if he wanted to keep benefiting from the new world.

  Tonight they came dressed for the occasion. Antonio and his brother had swapped their suits for less formal attire, to blend in with the locals who had come out to hear Mayor Buren and the rest of the lineup speak.

  Yellowtail and Frankie, both wearing track jackets, had joined them. Rush, the former AMP sergeant, was also here, eyeing the crowd like a Secret Service agent.

  Antonio had a feeling Esteban and maybe Miguel were in the audience, but he wasn’t worried about an attack from the narco king or his cockroach affiliates. The security just to get into the arena was top-notch, and it would be impossible to sneak in a weapon, especially a gun.

  Christopher walked to the top of stairs, to the highest seats he could find.

  “We’re going to get Vinny out, don’t worry,” Antonio said to his brother. “Same with Vito. Just need time.”

  “It was a mistake letting Vin join,” Christopher said. “I never should have agreed.”

  Antonio understood his brother’s anger, but he needed to have faith. Vinny had played his part and helped them take an upper hand in the turf war for Los Angeles. As long as he didn’t spill to the cops, he would be fine, and so would the family.

  The setting sun lit up the arena and the Hollywood sign on Mount Lee. The Y had tumbled away, and both Ls looked crooked. Not even the iconic sign had come out of the war unscathed.

  And the violence was far from over. The war over who controlled Los Angeles was still raging, but thanks to Vinny feeding information to the cops, several big players were already out of the game. The Crips and the Bloods were scattered in disarray. The Norteño Mafia had crumbled, leaving behind dozens of cliques that the Vega family had absorbed.

  Only a few key players remained who could claim the throne: the Nevsky family of Russians, the Vegas, and the Morettis. And the cops still had no idea how powerful he was.

  Several police officers walked onto the stage below, and more lined up inside the confines of the white arches that made up the half shell of the stage.

  A few minutes later, a tall bald man with a red tie walked up to the podium and tapped a microphone. Static crackled from the speakers onstage.

  Lights flicked on across the lip of the stage, and for a moment Antonio almost forgot why he was here.

  “Good evening, everyone,” said the man at the podium. “I’m City Councilman Lewis Banker, and I’m pleased to be with
you tonight to discuss the future of our beloved city.”

  The crowd clapped, and Antonio brought his hands together in a mechanical fashion, dutifully playing his part.

  The councilman blathered on about recovery efforts and all the other important progressive shit the city was doing. Antonio tuned it out and scanned the crowd, stopping on a group of Latino men wearing cowboy hats and tacky silk button-down shirts. Narcos for sure, but he didn’t see Esteban or Miguel in the group.

  “And now I’d like to introduce Mayor Matt Buren,” said the councilman.

  A man in a blue suit strode onstage. His brown hair was slicked to the side, but Antonio couldn’t see his features well. He couldn’t make out the pin on the guy’s lapel, but he doubted it was a US flag.

  Mayor Buren shook the councilman’s hand and grabbed the microphone off its mount. He walked around the edge of the stage, looking out at the crowd, back and forth—the sweeping gaze of a politician sizing up his public.

  “Today I’ve received outstanding news,” he said cheerfully. “As you may know, the federal government has reorganized, disbanding Congress and the executive branch. We now have, in the presidency’s place, an Executive Council …”

  Antonio zoned out the history lesson and returned his attention to the narcos several rows below him and to the right. There were four—two around his age and two who looked young enough to be bodyguards.

  “Here’s the good news,” Mayor Buren said. “In my negotiations with the new federal Executive Council, I was granted one of the first shipments of energy-efficient desalination technology from Japan. It will help provide clean water to over a million people here in Los Angeles.”

  The crowd erupted in applause.

  Buren held up a hand for the audience to quiet down. “This is only part of an energy-efficient Los Angeles,” he continued. “We’re also building solar farms, with a project completion goal of two years, to power the entire city. And that’s not all …”

  The mayor walked to the center of the stage. “You may have seen some active construction zones over the past few weeks. At those four sites, the city will be working with the federal government and several foreign governments including Canada, China, Japan, and others, who have offered to help build public housing that will help end our refugee crisis. These towers will go up in the next six months to a year.”

  People stood and cheered.

  Both Antonio and Christopher rose to their feet with everyone else. Antonio wasn’t happy about the Chinese helping, even though it made sense to benefit from their expertise gained while dealing with their own refugee issues. He worried about the projects attracting crime organizations that might see an opportunity with the public housing projects, just as he did.

  “We all have lost much over the past few months,” Buren said. “It will be a long road to recovery, but with the help of the citizens of Los Angeles, we will rebuild a better city together.”

  The mayor bowed his head slightly as if in prayer. When he looked up, he let out an audible sigh into the microphone.

  “But before we can rebuild, we must address the violence that plagues our city. So many of our brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, and children have fallen victim to these senseless acts.”

  Buren turned back to the white arches as another man walked onto the stage. He wore a formal dress police uniform, right down to the white gloves and peaked hat.

  “That’s why I’ve asked Chief Diamond to join us tonight and explain his plan to fight the gangs,” Buren said. “Please join me in welcoming this brave soldier fighting around the clock to ensure the safety of our families and our city.”

  The chief shook the mayor’s hand and stepped up to the podium.

  Antonio watched him as intently as a hawk watching a rabbit. From the intel Vinny had provided, the chief was not in play. Indeed, he was doing everything he could to combat the gangs. It was Captain Stone, not the chief, who was on Esteban Vega’s payroll.

  “Good evening, everyone. As you know, I’m Chief Diamond. I’ve served in the LAPD for over twenty years and served as chief for four. When I accepted this duty, I promised the citizens of Los Angeles that I would cut gang violence by half in a year, and I’m happy to say we accomplished that. Then the war happened.”

  The crowd had all sat down. An eerie silence passed over the amphitheater.

  “As the economy deteriorated and fighting broke out across the United States, the gangs again crawled out of their holes and tried to destroy our community,” Diamond said, anger breaking through in his tone. “My new promise to you tonight is that we will crush the cockroaches and send them scurrying back to their holes for good.”

  The crowd clapped, and Antonio felt a sly half smile forming on his face. Diamond was a brave man, to be sure, but a stupid one. If he had any smarts, he would have worked with the gangs rather than try to take out an enemy he couldn’t beat.

  He had to know that cockroaches were one of the most resilient species on the planet.

  Or maybe he doesn’t.

  “My officers tell me that the gang members outnumber our forces two to one,” Diamond said, his voice growing louder and more impassioned. “But we have something they don’t have. We have honor.”

  The audience applauded, and many rose again from their seats. A moment later, everyone was standing, even Antonio. He listened intently, curious to see how far Diamond would take his rhetoric before the grand finale.

  “As we recruit more officers, I ask you to put the word out in your communities that we will not be intimidated. That we will not surrender. That we will not—”

  It came faster than Antonio had anticipated. His half smile turned into a full-fledged grin as the top of Diamond’s peaked hat flew into the air, with part of his skull and scalp still inside.

  By the time anyone knew what was happening, two more distant rifle shots rang out, the bullets hitting Diamond in the back and shoulder, turning his body as he fell. A fourth, final shot hit him in the elbow.

  The audience cried out in horror, and officers flooded the stage, their weapons raised, sweeping for the shooter as they called into their radios to the officers on the hillside.

  The LAPD and Sheriff’s Department had security up there, and they would no doubt be searching for the assassin. But they wouldn’t find him—at least, not the real killer. Carmine had trained as a sniper and was too clever to be discovered. He would escape through the trees, leaving his rifle next to the recently deceased body of one of the Vega soldiers Antonio had held captive in the basement of his new fortress.

  Antonio hoped the Vega brothers were somewhere in the arena. Soon, every officer in the city would be hunting for the man who ordered the assassination of a hero cop.

  “We just started another war,” Christopher said quietly.

  Antonio watched the officers below surrounding Diamond’s limp body. A team of medics rushed from under the arch and joined the cluster around the fallen chief. Christopher stood and tipped his head at the exit. Time to leave.

  Antonio stayed a moment longer, watching the emergency crew work on Diamond. Somehow, despite all odds, he was still technically alive. But no one could survive those wounds, and soon there would be a new chief of police. And this one would be in the pocket of the Moretti family.

  -24-

  Dom shivered at the sight of his sister sleeping peacefully on the cot inside the former high school history classroom. She had fallen asleep with a book still open in her hands.

  He didn’t want to leave her, knowing that this could be the last time he would ever see her. But, like their father, he had a duty.

  Leaning down, Dom kissed her softly on the forehead, then turned back to his mom. They walked quietly out of the room and into the hallway.

  “I’m coming home,” Dom said. “Don’t worry.”

  Elena sniffled, trying to h
old back her tears. “Dominic,” she said as if unsure what else to say. She grabbed him and pulled him tight, whispering, “I’ve seen your father go to war so many times, and now I have to watch you go too.”

  “I’ll be okay,” Dom said. “I know how to fight, and I have to do this. I have to protect you guys.”

  He held on to her, looking down the hallway, where three citizen soldiers stood sentry with rifles and shotguns. Plenty of people were here to watch his family while he and his father were gone, and most of the fighting was downtown anyway, where his father’s unit had been deployed.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said. “I love you, Mom.”

  Two tears rolled down her face, but then they ceased, like a faucet shutting off.

  “I love you too,” she replied after wiping them away. “Please, please, be careful.”

  He nodded, then hurried down the hallway, stopping only to tell the three guards at the main entrance to do their damn job and to stay at their post no matter what happened.

  Half an hour later, he was with Moose and Camilla at the Downey police headquarters, waiting in the chilly predawn in a parking lot with dozens of other officers and volunteers. Soon, they would board the buses that would ship them off to battle.

  So far, there were already twenty-one dead cops in Central Los Angeles, nine in Anaheim, four in Long Beach, ten in Santa Monica. A whopping nineteen in Compton.

  And that was just last night. It also didn’t include civilian casualties.

  The gangs had rallied after Chief Diamond’s assassination and his vitriolic speech promising to scrape them off the streets like crushed insects. After his death, the LAPD had declared all-out war on the gangs, and the gangbangers had responded by forming small armies, fortifying positions, and taking hostages.

  They were parasites and had infested everything: the camps, the neighborhoods, and without a doubt, the police force itself.

  Dom knew in his heart that he had to stop the spread of the disease before it became too late for the city and his family.

  He finished putting on his riot gear as the first of the buses rolled into the parking lot. He could see the fear in the other officers’ faces. He felt it too.