Rebecca re-focused her pistol’s sights on Tommy and the first terrorist. Tommy was on top, punching him in the face in spite of the bloody gash that spanned his entire back. He punched the jihadist at least twenty times before ceasing.
Tommy grimaced as he slowly pushed himself up. “That’s going to hurt tomorrow.”
Just as he got to his feet, he suddenly lurched to the left and fell to the ground. The terrorist had kicked his feet out from under him. Rebecca raised her pistol as the militant unsheathed another knife that had been concealed beneath his robe and raised it in his right hand. Before she could fire a shot Reagan charged the terrorist, clamping his jaws around the man’s right wrist. The militant let out a primal scream as the angry canine violently shook his head from side to side. Blood spewed from the terrorist’s wrists as the dog’s teeth shredded skin, muscles and cartilage. After thirty seconds Reagan slowly backed away from the wounded terrorist, blood dripping from his still-growling jaws. Rebecca raised her pistol and fired a kill shot between the man’s eyes.
***
0812 – Military Ocean Terminal, Sunny Point (MOTSU)
General Cloos re-read the message from his spotter. The AIS convoy headed south on 133 had turned onto Orton Road rather than continuing toward the military terminal and the nuclear plant. His spotters at Orton Pond had let them pass; they were not equipped to take on five vehicles. The vehicles had last been seen heading toward Fort Anderson.
This turn of events was puzzling, but Cloos knew another group of terrorist-filled vehicles was headed his way down Highway 87. His spotter in Boiling Spring Lakes had just sent word that the convoy was just a couple of minutes out. He picked up a pair of binoculars and zoomed in on Highway 87. The terrorists were not yet in sight, but they would be here any minute, and they would be in for a rude awakening when they arrived.
Cloos felt the earth shake beneath his feet, followed by a deep boom emanating from some point to the east. What the hell was that? he wondered. He turned and watched a thick plume of black smoke rising over the trees from somewhere to the northeast.
Cloos activated his radio. “Lieutenant Carmichael, report.” There was no response. “Carmichael, report.” There was still no response. “Lieutenant Morley, report.”
A response crackled over the radio. Lieutenant Morley here. Looks like they took out the gasoline terminals.
Cloos clenched his teeth. “What is the status of Lt. Carmichael?”
Status unknown, sir. But based on what I’m seeing it doesn’t look good.
“Dammit. Lieutenant, see what you can find out. And watch your back.”
Yes, sir.
Another voice came over the radio. General, this is Captain Foster. A boat picked up the terrorists at Fort Anderson. We were too far away to intercept them. We tried to notify Lt. Carmichael, but were unable to hail him.
“Thank you, Captain. Anything else?”
Sir, we saw the blast. I don’t see how anyone could have survived.
Cloos heaved a deep sigh. “Thank you, Captain.”
As he re-attached the radio to his belt, Cloos heard a loud “WHOOOOSH” followed by an explosion. He pivoted in time to see one of his Growlers flip through the air, engulfed in a fireball. “Who the hell let them get through? Take ‘em out!”
Fifty-caliber weapons mounted on three Humvees launched a devastating barrage into the AIS convoy that was now visible on Highway 87. A rocket propelled grenade streaked from a Marine’s shoulder, sending a terrorist vehicle careening into the air. Within two minutes all five AIS vehicles had been destroyed and everyone inside them was dead.
Anger pulsed through Cloos’ veins. His men were better than this. The terrorists should never have had the chance to fire a shot, much less destroy one of his vehicles. To make matters worse, they had taken out the fuel terminal on the Cape Fear River. With President Armando dead, Cloos knew his role at this pivotal point in history had grown in importance. He – and those under his command – would have to step up their game.
“General!” Cloos turned to see a young Marine running toward him.
“What is it, son?”
“AIS hit our forces at the nuke plant.”
“How the hell did they do that? We had enough boats on the water to keep them from landing.”
“They hit us on the ground. Not sure where they came from, sir.”
“Well someone had damn well better find out. Get Colonel Brookhart on the line.”
The young Marine looked down. “Sir, we have not been able to reach the colonel.”
***
8:17 a.m. – Fontana Dam
Joshua surveyed the pile of dead AIS terrorists as Thomas drove the Suburban up the road away from the base of Fontana Dam. Jim Davidson was in the back seat, and they were bookended by pickup trucks driven by men recruited by Ray Sawyer. Jack had done an excellent job of training the men to use the weapons provided by Mordecai, and they had wiped out the terrorists before they could make a move on the dam.
Ray had successfully distracted the convoy approaching from the west on Highway 28, leading them into an ambush. A second convoy approaching from the east had been destroyed at the base of the mountain. Two groups of terrorists traveling on foot had been intercepted and killed on the Appalachian Trail, and two boats full of jihadis had been blown out of the lake. Ray’s group of unorganized, untrained men had been mobilized into an effective military unit in a remarkably short time. Joshua’s gut told him this was the birth of a much larger movement.
Joshua’s radio crackled to life. Joshua, Jack here. We’ve got a group of three Homeland Security Vehicles up here. One of them is the Phillips punk. He’s asking for you.
“How many of our folks are there?”
Six, at the moment.
“Ray, did you catch this?”
Ray’s southern accent rang out from the radio. Yep. On the way.
“Jack, tell Mr. Phillips I’ll be there momentarily. And make sure none of our folks leave.”
Got it.
Joshua un-holstered his Beretta 9mm and laid it on his lap as Thomas turned left onto Route 28. As they approached Fontana Village he spotted a burned-out Jeep in the gulley off to the left. A few minutes later they passed another burned-out jeep, then turned left onto Fontana Dam Road. If not for the previous night’s rain, they might have been battling a wildfire in addition to the terrorists.
Four pickup trucks and a motorcycle awaited them at the intersection. Joshua made eye contact with Ray, who sat atop the motorcycle. Ray pulled out ahead of the lead vehicle, followed by two of the trucks. The remaining trucks pulled out behind them. The motorcycle, six pickups and Thomas’ Suburban made their way down Fontana Dam Road. As they rounded the final curve, Joshua spotted three white Suburbans bearing the Department of Homeland Security logo. Six men in black uniforms flanked the Homeland Security vehicles, each bearing an AR-15. Eight of Ray’s men stood opposite them, armed with a variety of weapons. They were flanked by four pickup trucks. Jack stood with Ray’s men, and Austin Phillips stood among the Homeland Security agents.
The three pickups ahead of Thomas’ Suburban fanned out, and the three trailing vehicles did the same. Ray’s men exited their vehicles as Thomas stopped ten feet shy of Austin Phillips’ position.
Joshua stepped out of the Suburban, and Ray dismounted his motorcycle and joined him. Ray’s men fanned out in a defensive formation that offered multiple angles of attack against the Homeland Security agents.
Austin stepped toward Joshua. Ray raised his weapon, and the Homeland Security agents raised theirs in response.
Joshua waved Ray off. “Lower your weapon.” He gestured toward Austin. “Tell your men to lower theirs. You are clearly outnumbered.” He gestured toward the mountain behind the dam. “Our snipers have you in their sights.”
Austin hesitated for a moment, then motioned for his men to lower their weapons. He turned back toward Joshua. “I’m disappointed in you, Joshua. I always considered you a patr
iot. I thought you were someone who loved our nation. How could you harbor a domestic terrorist like Drew Thompson?” He gestured toward Ray’s men. “And align yourselves with deplorable people like these?”
Ray’s spine stiffened. “You son of a--"
Joshua turned to Ray and shook his head. “Ray, I’ll handle this. Stand down unless they make a threatening move.”
Ray hesitated for a moment, then nodded.
Joshua turned his attention back to Austin. “Drew Thompson is anything but a domestic terrorist.” He gestured toward Ray’s men. “And these are good people. Salt of the earth. If they’re deplorable, then I’m a proud ‘deplorable.’ Likewise, Austin, I’m disappointed in you. My allegiance is to the Constitution, to what our nation is supposed to be. Not to one man, and certainly not to the de facto dictatorship it has become under President Armando. You need to seriously re-think your blind loyalty to this administration.”
“President Armando is dead.”
Joshua felt a cold chill ripple down his spine. “The president is dead? When? How?”
“AIS somehow got him. Last night.”
A million thoughts flashed through Joshua’s mind. Armando had never taken steps to reconstitute Congress or the state governments that had been decimated by the terrorist attacks. He had never appointed a vice president. His death would create a massive power vacuum, one that would attract power-hungry people and groups with less-than-honorable intentions. “If the president is dead, then who is running the government? Or what’s left of it?”
“Homeland Security is now in control.”
“So we’ve traded a de facto dictatorship for a real one?”
“Joshua, you know it’s not like that.”
“Austin, with all due respect, you know it’s exactly like that. How you respond to this, and whose side you end up on, will tell us whether you ever believed anything you said when you were in the legislature.”
Austin shook his head. “This isn’t over, Joshua. Your treason will not stand.”
“You’re the one betraying our Constitution, not me.” Joshua made eye contact with Ray, then turned back to Austin. Ray’s men raised their weapons in unison. Joshua continued, “These men will not fire unless you or your men make a threatening move. It’s time for you to leave. Peacefully. Now.”
Austin glared at Joshua for a moment, then turned and made his way to one of the Homeland Security vehicles.
Jack approached Joshua as the three vehicles made their way around the curve and disappeared from sight. “Joshua, there is something else you need to know. AIS attacked the camp.”
Joshua’s stomach twisted into knots. “What? How? Is everyone okay? Rebecca--"
Jack put his hands on Joshua’s shoulders. “Everybody’s fine. Rebecca and Tommy killed the terrorists. They almost got Kim and Laura. Would have if not for your dog alerting on them.”
CHAPTER 16
Thursday, November 8, 2018 -- 0829 – Southport
The cool breeze whisked across General Cloos’ face as the line of U.S. Marine Corps vehicles raced south down Highway 133 and 87 toward the Southport nuclear plant. While they were defeating the terrorists, his men had suffered far too many casualties today. Now, AIS had apparently stuck a deadly blow against the Marines who were defending the nuclear plant. He hoped the terrorists had not been able to reach the control room or reactors.
The road and grounds near the entrance to the nuclear plant were teeming with a mixture of Marine vehicles, civilian pickup trucks, and Army vehicles. Three burned-out jeeps cluttered the right lane just before the entrance.
Cloos exited the Jeep as it rolled to a stop and approached a tall Marine with dark skin and thick eyebrows. “Lieutenant Sanchez, where is Colonel Brookhart?”
The lieutenant looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry, sir. Colonel Brookhart was KIA.”
Cloos clenched his teeth as he surveyed the burned-out remains of the vehicles. These bastards had killed one of his best men. He fought back a tear.
“Dammit. Thank you, Lieutenant. Are the terrorists dead?”
“All of them, sir.”
“Good work, son. Colonel Brookhart mentioned two locals named Jared Perkins and Darin Watson. If they’re here, I’d like to meet them.”
Lieutenant Sanchez nodded and led Cloos toward a row of pickup trucks. As he was congratulating Perkins and Watson on their critical role in the victory over the terrorists, a young female Marine rushed to his position and saluted.
Cloos returned the salute. “What is it, Corporal?”
“Sir, a Colonel Allen Roberts from Fort Bragg is here. He has asked to speak with you.”
“What the hell is the Army doing here?” Cloos shook hands with Perkins and Watson, then followed the corporal toward a tall, slender man with neatly trimmed white hair dressed in a U.S. Army combat uniform. The man was flanked by two younger soldiers. Another man stood beside the colonel. The man was six feet tall and had perfectly manicured black hair parted neatly on the side. He wore neatly pressed khaki pants, well-shined brown dress shoes and a dark blue button-down shirt.
Colonel Roberts stepped forward and extended his hand. “General Cloos, I’m Colonel Allen Roberts.”
Cloos nodded and returned the handshake. “Colonel. What are you doing down here?”
“Officially, the administration sent me here to rein you in. Unofficially, I have a number of concerns about where we’re headed, and I wanted to meet you.”
“I assume you know the president was assassinated today?” Cloos asked.
Roberts looked down. “Yes, I am aware. That is a tragedy that greatly complicates our nation’s future. And it’s all the more reason for people like us to communicate.”
Cloos cocked an eyebrow. “I like what you’re saying, but how do I know I can trust you?”
“Given everything that’s gone on, I can understand your skepticism,” Colonel Roberts said. “The administration sent us here to stop you from taking action against AIS. We obviously didn’t do that, and I’m sure your people will attest to the fact that we assisted with the effort.”
Cloos made eye contact with Lieutenant Sanchez, who nodded. He returned his gaze to Colonel Roberts. “Does this mean you’re breaking ranks with the government?”
“Not officially,” Roberts said. “Not yet, anyway. We believe there is value in maintaining a relationship with the government, but I’d like to keep in touch with you through back channels.” He handed Cloos a satphone. “This is not part of the Army’s official network. My number is programmed.”
Cloos accepted the phone. “How do I know you’re not trying to set me up?”
“You don’t,” Roberts said. “But I hope to earn your trust. With that said, the government will need to think I made an effort to follow their orders and stop you. They think we were delayed and got here after the fact. So what I’m asking is for you to return to your base so that we can tell them we told you to stand down.”
Cloos smirked. “Well, that’s where we were going anyway.”
Roberts smiled. “Good. We’ll be in touch.”
Cloos gestured toward the tall man in the khaki pants and dark blue button-down shirt. “Who the hell are you?”
The man extended his hand and spoke with a British accent. “Maxwell Vaughan. Pleased to make your acquaintance, General.”
“Are you supposed to be James Bond or something?”
Colonel Roberts chuckled. “You’re not far off. Maxwell is MI6. He and I have been communicating since shortly after the nuclear attacks. I’ll entrust you with the knowledge that he is here, working on American soil. The government is unaware of his presence.”
MI6, here, Cloos thought. So, the rumors of foreign powers operating on American soil were true. At least it’s the good guys. He extended his hand to Roberts. “Colonel, I still don’t trust you, yet, but will keep in touch.”
***
Friday, November 9, 2018 – 9:59 a.m. – Virginia Beach
T
he next morning, Anthony Russo entered the conference room that had been President Nelson Armando’s base of operations, flanked by four Federal Protective Service agents and four Secret Service agents. He was administered the Oath of Office as President of the United States, then took his seat at the head of the table. He was joined by General Mason Palmer, Angúo Zhou and Admiral Vincent Trawick.
Russo began the meeting. “Gentlemen, the tragic events of the past few days have forced us in to a new era. President Armando and two members of his inner circle, Abdar Al-Haziz and Adilah Hassan, are dead, along with the First Lady, and Benjamin Liebowitz is missing. We are investigating the cause of his disappearance. Because President Armando was derelict in appointing a Vice President or reconstituting Congress, as the only Cabinet member I was next in the line of succession. While this is not a job to which I ever aspired, it is one I accept with great humility, and I will seek to perform the duties to the best of my ability. During our investigation of the president’s death we learned that Abdar and Adilah were affiliated with AIS and were complicit in his death. While the world knows that the president was killed by AIS, we cannot allow knowledge of Abdar and Adilah being involved to become public. Is that clear?”
Everyone nodded in agreement. Russo continued, “While many AIS cells were taken out yesterday, there are remnants of them still active on our soil. We have secured a list of the remaining cells, and thanks to General Palmer and Admiral Trawick, the Federal Protective Service is partnering with the Army and Navy to eradicate them. Then we will turn our attention to rebel elements like General Cloos and the militia in the vicinity of Bryson City and Fontana Dam. General Palmer and Admiral Trawick, do either of you have anything to add?”
General Palmer spoke first. “Yes, Mr. President. Colonel Roberts from Fort Bragg confronted General Cloos yesterday near the Southport Nuclear Plant. While Colonel Roberts did not arrive in time to prevent Cloos from taking unauthorized action, he did persuade him to stand down and return to Camp Lejeune.”
“Good. So we know where he is. Admiral, do you have anything to add?”
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