As he approached the edge of the woods near the Fontana Dam parking lot a beige Pontiac sedan caught his eye. He dropped to one knee behind a bush and removed a pair of binoculars from his dark green haversack. He zoomed in on the vehicle as it came to a stop and two young men stepped out. He had not previously seen them in the area. Both appeared to be in their twenties and were of Middle-Eastern descent. Jack watched as the men studied the dam, taking numerous pictures. After five minutes, they returned to the Pontiac and drove onto the road that crossed the top of the dam. They stopped halfway across and took more pictures before doing a three-point turn. They drove past Jack’s position and disappeared down the road.
Jack had no doubt what he had just witnessed. These men were AIS terrorists, and they were scoping out the dam for a potential attack. He didn’t know whether they planned to capture the dam or destroy it, but that didn’t matter. Regardless of their intentions, they had to be stopped. Jack returned the binoculars to his haversack, double-checked to make sure a round was chambered in his Glock .40, and began hiking back toward the camp.
***
11:45 a.m. – Virginia Beach
As he opened the door to his private office, President Nelson Armando motioned for Manuel and Rodney, the Secret Service agents who accompanied him everywhere he went, to remain outside. “Gentlemen, I need some time alone.”
“Yes, sir.” Manuel spoke with a barely noticeable Hispanic accent. “We’ll be right here.”
Armando closed the exterior door behind him and quietly locked it. He unlocked the door to the smaller interior office, which was virtually sound-proofed. He entered and locked the interior door behind him, sat down at the desk, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. How did it come to this? he asked himself. Two years earlier, he had enthusiastically accepted President-elect Alan Wagner’s invitation to serve as Secretary of Homeland Security. He had never wanted to be president. He had simply wanted to serve his country.
When he had drawn the short straw to serve as the designated survivor for President Wagner’s first State of the Union address, he never imagined how it would forever change his life. Now, he was President of the United States. A job he had never wanted, especially under circumstances such as these. The country had been torn apart. He was stuck with a makeshift cabinet not of his choosing, and he had no idea who he could trust. The people in his inner circle seemed more interested in jockeying for position or pushing personal agendas than saving the country. Abdar had initially been his most loyal lieutenant, but had become increasingly distant. Russo knew everything about Homeland Security, but was clearly manipulating events by bringing in General Palmer and Zhou.
He couldn’t figure out where Liebowitz was coming from. Nearly every day, he wished someone else had drawn the straw to be the designated survivor. And then there was this – an unthinkable situation that had been going on for nearly three months. Armando wanted to take action against the terrorists. The fact that he had not done more to stop them would haunt him for the rest of his days – but he could not bring himself to do anything that might further endanger his beloved wife. How could he?
Armando heaved a deep sigh and opened his eyes. He looked at his watch. It’s time. He clicked the mouse button to awaken his computer from its slumber. He swallowed hard as he clicked the link that had been sent to him.
The secure video connection flared to life, revealing two hooded figures shrouded in black. They stood behind a woman bound and gagged in a chair. Armando focused in on the woman. Dark bags drooped under her tear-filled brown eyes. Her disheveled black hair revealed streaks and splotches of grey, and her clothes were wrinkled and torn.
Armando fought back tears as a lump formed in his throat. “Honey, are you okay? Can you hear me?”
The woman nodded, her eyes briefly warm with familiarity, then recoiled as one the hooded figures on the left placed a large knife in front of her neck. A cold fear consumed her eyes.
“No!” Armando begged. “Please don’t!”
The shrouded terrorist with the knife pointed it at the camera and spoke. Mr. Armando, this is a reminder of what will happen if you interfere with our efforts to form a caliphate on American soil.” The jihadist’s voice was scrambled. “Neither your military nor your Homeland Security police will attempt to stop us. If they do, you will watch your wife bleed and die. Is that clear?
Armando gritted his teeth. “Yes. It is clear.”
Good. The terrorist returned the knife to the First Lady’s throat. We’ve already proven what we are capable of. Do not test us, or we will cut your wife’s head off and display it for all the world to see.
President Armando broke down into tears as the display went blank.
***
1:15 p.m. – Fontana Dam
Early that afternoon Joshua called an emergency camp meeting to order. Jack had spotted what appeared to be AIS terrorists scoping out the dam, and the camp needed to prepare for a likely battle. Everyone was present except for Drew, who was still missing, and Perry, Caroline and Kane, who were en route to Virginia Beach with Major Chinn.
“I realize this meeting was called on short notice, and that not everyone is here, but there is an urgent issue we need to discuss. Jack, please tell us what you saw today.”
Jack stepped up to the front and stood beside Joshua. “This morning I hiked the trail to the dam. When I arrived at the dam I spotted some people scoping it out. They were in their early 20s, appeared to be of Middle-Eastern descent, and were photographing every detail. Doors. Ladders. Everything. My instincts tell me these guys are AIS. Given that Major Chinn said they have intelligence about AIS planning attacks on major infrastructure assets, we have to assume they are planning an attack. We need to begin preparations now.”
Thomas twisted the toothpick in his teeth. “Man, any chance they were just out sightseeing?”
“Even if there is, that’s not a chance we can afford to take,” Jack said. “If we prepare and nothing happens, we’re in a better position for the next one. If we do nothing and they successfully attack, we and everyone in this area are in a bad place. We didn’t come all the way out here from Raleigh to let them follow us and take the dam.”
Thomas’ son, Tommy, stood up. Now 18 years old, he was tall and skinny. His light-brown hair was nearly identical to his father’s, and he barely had a trace of facial hair. “Dad, I’m with Mr. McGee on this one.”
“As am I,” Chuck said. “We have to defend the dam, but we also have to be ready to defend the camp. If they come here, we can’t assume the dam is the only place they’ll attack.”
Joshua made eye contact with Rebecca. She nodded. He cleared his throat. “I believe we have to act, but it’s not a decision I’m willing to make unilaterally. So far I’ve heard arguments on both sides. Does anyone else want to speak?”
Rebecca raised her hand. “Joshua, I’d like to remind everyone that three of our people are on their way to Virginia Beach with Major Chinn, and Drew is missing. I agree that we need to act, but we can’t do it alone.”
Jack chuckled. “Joshua, your better half is right as usual. We’ll need reinforcements, and I think I know just the person.”
Joshua pursed his lips. “I’m assuming you mean Ray. If we call him, he’ll pressure us to officially join his cause.”
“Well, this will give us a chance to work together on something without diving in head-first.” Rebecca nodded in Joshua’s direction. “Kind of like dating before we got married.”
Joshua chuckled. “Well said. Anyone else?”
Jim removed his faded camouflage baseball cap. “While I agree with Thomas that we need to be careful not to make assumptions about people’s motives, I also think we can’t sit on our hands and not prepare for the worst. I move that we begin immediate preparations to defend both the dam and our camp, and that we reach out to Ray Sawyer for reinforcements.”
Jack seconded the motion, which passed with only Thomas and Kim Page dissenting.
&nbs
p; Fifteen minutes later Joshua, Rebecca and Jim joined Jack in his Charcoal Crew Cab GMC Sierra. Reagan joined them and sat in Joshua’s lap, his tail wagging as he peered out the left rear window. They navigated a series of winding back roads, arriving at Ray Sawyer’s farm an hour and a half later.
Ray met them on the front porch of his farmhouse, a 12-gauge shotgun resting on his shoulder. “Well, this is a surprise.” He gestured at Reagan, who stood next to Joshua. “Nice dog. Ready to join forces with us?”
“I knew you’d ask that,” Joshua said. “We have a test drive opportunity.”
“Test drive? How so?”
Jack scratched his chin. “I spotted what I’m pretty sure were AIS scouts checking out Fontana Dam. Given what Major Chinn said about AIS planning to attack infrastructure targets, I think they’re planning an attack here.”
“Over my dead body.”
Joshua chuckled. “Does that mean you’re on board?”
“We’ll help you defend the dam and exterminate these insects.”
Joshua extended his hand. “Get your men ready, and keep your sat phone on.”
They returned to the Sierra and made their way back toward Fontana Dam. Jack spoke up as they rounded a curve about three miles from camp. “What the?”
Joshua leaned forward and spotted a classic, red Ford F1 stopped in the center of the road. Mordecai was leaning against the vehicle. “Mordecai. See what he wants.”
Joshua rolled down his window as Jack slowed to a stop beside Mordecai’s vehicle. “Why am I not surprised to see you?”
“Because you’re starting to catch on. Slowly” Mordecai chuckled. “Where did y’all go today? Odd time of day for you to be traveling such a distance.”
Joshua shook his head. The fact that the old man knew so much about them was unnerving, but he was increasingly comfortable that he was on their side. “We have reason to believe AIS is planning an attack on the dam.”
“Did Ray agree to help?”
Joshua recoiled. “How did you know we went to Ray’s?”
“Who else would you ask?”
“He’s on board.”
“Well, so am I. You’ll need weapons. That’s where I can help.”
Jack leaned out the window. “What kind of weapons can you get?”
“Whatever you need, sonny. For years I’ve made my living running gun shows and gun stores all over the mountains in about three states. I’ve got quite a stockpile.” The old man grinned. “Including some things the feds wouldn’t be pleased to know I have.”
“How can we contact you?” Jack asked.
“Do you have a phone?” Mordecai inquired.
“Several,” Joshua said.
Mordecai handed Joshua a slip of paper. “This is the number for my secure sat phone.”
“You have a secure sat phone?”
Mordecai winked. “Had it for years.”
Joshua shook his head. As he did, a bloodhound’s head appeared in the window of Mordecai’s truck. Annabelle let out a long, echoing bark. Reagan immediately returned the greeting, his tail wagging vigorously. Joshua noted that this was a more pleasant bark than the one he heard when Reagan was angry or afraid. He gestured toward Mordecai’s truck. “Reagan, meet Annabelle. I’ve wanted to introduce you two for some time.”
Mordecai shook his head. “Easy, boy. My baby has standards.”
***
Tuesday, November 6, 2018 – 0723 – Battleship NORTH CAROLINA Memorial on the Cape Fear River
General Cloos sipped a cup of strong, black coffee as the sunrise peeked through the clouds above Wilmington the next morning. From his vantage point on the grounds of Battleship NORTH CAROLINA Memorial he watched the sun slowly climb higher into the sky, sending rays of orange and red reflecting across the rippling water of the Cape Fear River.
Cloos and seven other Marines had camped on the Battleship grounds, where they joined local veterans who took turns camping there to stand guard against potential terrorists. AIS terrorists had been spotted casing the ship several months prior, and the locals had been standing guard ever since. While it was a slight deviation from the mission, he had felt compelled to join them last night.
He finished his cup of coffee and poured another from the aluminum pot perched above the fire on two cinderblocks, then walked to the river’s edge. He peered through the fading darkness at the U.S. Coast Guard Cutter Diligence, which was moored on the opposite shore. His men had made contact with Coast Guard personnel the prior evening, and their help would be needed in the coming hours and days.
Cloos looked at his watch. It read 0729. He peered through the darkness at the Diligence. Twenty seconds later a red light on the cutter flashed three times in his direction. Cloos removed the light from his belt and returned the signal. They’re on schedule and proceeding as planned, he thought.
As he pivoted and began the short walk back to the campfire a bright flash filled his left peripheral vision, followed by a rumbling boom. Cloos dropped to one knee and instinctively drew his sidearm. A chill shot down his spine as he watched a series of explosions cascade down the left lift tower on the Cape Fear Memorial Bridge, across the span, and up the right tower. The bridge span disintegrated and plummeted 70 feet into the river below. The left lift tower began crumbling, followed by the right. The debris crashed into the river, sending a wave upstream.
Four Marines and eight veterans sprinted to Cloos’ position at the riverside, their weapons drawn.
“What happened?” one of the veterans asked.
“AIS blew the bridge,” Cloos said matter-of-factly.
As chunks of debris began floating past their position a flash lit up the sky behind them, followed by another rumbling boom. Cloos turned in time to watch the Isabel Holmes bridge plummet into the river.
“They’re cutting off transportation routes in and out of Wilmington,” he said. “That leads me to believe their target is on that side of the river.”
Cloos saw another flash further off to the north, followed by a more distant rumble. “Dan Cameron Bridge.” He walked to his Jeep, powered up his sat phone and dialed a number. “Captain Foster, have your men check any and all bridges for explosives. AIS has taken out the Cape Fear Memorial, Isabel Holmes and Dan Cameron bridges.”
Yes, sir. What’s your twenty?
“Present location is BB55. Departing momentarily for your location. Hopefully they won’t blow the Alligator Creek or Brunswick River bridges before we cross. Direct our forces on the Wilmington side of the river to be on high alert.”
Will do, sir, Foster answered. Our spotters have identified several potential AIS scouts near all four identified potential targets. They definitely appear to be gearing up for something, but their target remains unclear.
“Stay alert and keep me informed.” Cloos hung up the phone and pointed at four Marines. “You four, stay here with these men and help them protect the ship. These scumbags love to hit symbolic targets. Report anything out of the ordinary immediately.” He spun toward the row of vehicles and motioned for the others to follow. “Let’s move.”
Cloos climbed into the passenger seat of the Growler and a young Marine claimed the drivers’ seat. A Humvee led the way as they departed the Battleship grounds and traversed Highway 421 and the US 74/76 causeway. After crossing the Brunswick River they took the Leland exit and turned south onto Highway 133 toward Southport.
The sat phone rang as they passed the entrance to the West Port neighborhood, which was graced by an imposing Mariner statue. Cloos and his late wife had considered purchasing a second home in the Leland neighborhood, which was also home to the Chair of the Brunswick County Board of Commissioners. He looked at the caller ID display before answering. “Go ahead, Captain Foster.”
General, a small johnboat with four terrorists just landed at Brunswick Town. As best we can tell they are on foot, heading down Plantation Road toward Highway 133.
“Do you have spotters in place?”
Yes, sir,
near Orton Pond.
“Are they equipped to stream what they see to my tablet?”
Yes, sir.
Cloos opened his secure tablet and activated the videoconference app. Orton Pond, a small lake that fed into the Cape Fear River via Orton Creek, appeared on screen. Based on the angle, Cloos assumed the spotter had established an elevated vantage point in the woods. A voice crackled through the speaker.
General, this is Corporal Carroll. Targets not yet visible, but expected shortly.
“Maintain position, Corporal. And hold your fire until I give the green light. I assume I’m speaking to you through an ear bud and will not compromise your position.”
Yes, sir.
Three minutes later four AIS militants came into view from the left. Cloos heard the corporal adjust her position. “Hold your fire, Corporal.”
Corporal Carroll was silent for a moment, then spoke. Yes sir. We have a clean shot now, sir.
“Hold your fire.”
Cloos couldn’t help but smile as he zoomed in and studied the dark, elongated shape in the pond. Two of the terrorists laid their rifles on the ground, removed their masks and slid down the embankment to the water’s edge. This is going to be good, he thought. The terrorists dropped down onto all fours and began cupping their hands to drink from the dirty brown pond water. Probably still cleaner than what they get at home, Cloos thought.
Without warning the pond erupted into a splashing frenzy. The terrorist on the right screamed as a pair of powerful, scaly jaws clamped down around his torso. The alligator, which appeared to be at least ten feet long, jerked the terrorist away from the shore. The gator’s tail whipped through the water, knocking the second terrorist off his feet.
“Welcome to eastern North Carolina, boys,” Cloos said under his breath.
As the large alligator disappeared beneath the surface with its meal two smaller gators latched onto opposite ends of the second terrorist, engaging in a bloody game of tug-of-war. The remaining two terrorists shouted in Arabic and trained their rifles on the gators.
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