Текст книги "The Western Front"

Автор книги: Archer Garrett

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

Chapter 24

Jake

Alabama

Geram slipped quietly through the thicket with the side-folding AKM.  The shorter length of the folded weapon helped him avoid getting tangled up in the myriad of vines that hung from the trees.  It was still an hour before dawn.  He hoped the early morning approach would give him an advantage over any exhausted night watchmen.

As he made it to the edge of the tree line, he peered out at the clearing before him.  Geram noted the house, the large metal building not far to the side and the fallow field beyond.  From his vantage point, the place look deserted, but he had learned that looks could be deceiving.

He stayed within the tree line and slowly moved around the perimeter of the clearing.  From a distance, if he could have been seen from a distance, he would have looked like some strange, tree folk moving through the forest.  He had Spanish moss and small limbs woven through his vest and tied to his hat.  His steps were carefully chosen and without any rhythm.  He planned his movement so that he avoided snapping any errant branches on the ground.  If it took him along a path that was twice as long as what it could have been, it mattered not to Geram.  His goal was not to be swift in his approach, but to be alive.

The sun was just beginning its morning ritual as he finished traversing the perimeter.  He had observed no signs of activity at the house or shed as he had made his way through the thickets.  The windowless side of the country house that faced him was less than a hundred yards from him.  He positioned himself strategically and crouched low as he prepared to burst forth from the woods to a windowless wall.

With a sudden flash, he sprang forward as fast as his muscles would allow.  Each movement was fierce and strained.  Geram pushed his body as hard as he could.  He dashed from the woods and in between the fig trees in the clearing.  He slid low as he reached the exterior wall and slapped the folding stock into its extended position.  He struggled to control his breathing as he pressed his ear against the wall, listening for any sounds inside the home.

He peered around the corner at the front of the house – nothing.  He slid along the wall to the back and transitioned around the corner.  He moved in a purposeful and efficient manner as he crept underneath the window sills to the back stoop.  He stayed low as he readied himself at the door.  With a sudden movement, he slammed the door open and quickly moved through the interior of the home, his barrel sweeping from corner to corner of each room before proceeding to the next.  The layout of the old house was seared into his memory.

No inch was left unchecked by his deftly, precise movements.

As he finished clearing the house, he relaxed somewhat and began to focus on the minute details around him.  He ran his finger along the kitchen counter and noted the thick layer of dust that blanketed it.  It appeared that the house had been empty for months.  He clutched his radio and simply said, “Jake.”

“Go ahead.”

“The house is clear.  No one has been here for weeks, maybe months.  I’m going to check the shed just to be sure.  Hold off until you hear from me again.”

Jake sat impatiently in the Bronco with Kate and Sasha.  He rapped the steering wheel with his fingers as he waited to hear from Geram again.  Kate broke the silence in the SUV.

“At least we know your dad made it out.”

“Yeah, now we have to find a way to reach him.”

The radio crackled to life again, “All clear.”

Jake replied, “On my way in.”

As he drove the Bronco down the long driveway to his father’s country home, he noticed something had been spray painted, like graffiti, on the front door.  It was a large white circle; inside the circle was the following:

BLL

H – 0100

“What’s that?” Kate said as she noticed the front door.

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s not what they put on doors after disasters, is it?”

“I don’t think so; that’s usually an ‘X’.  I’m willing to bet this is a message from the old man, we just have to figure it out.”

As they pulled up to the house, Geram stepped out of the metal shed and walked over to meet them.  Sasha hopped out of the back seat and stretched as she let out a whine.  She bounded across the yard and to the field beyond to explore the new territory.  As Jake and Kate exited the Bronco, Geram called out, “I’m going to draw some water out of the hand pump out back. I for one am ready for a warm bath.”

For each bath, they brought fresh water to a boil in a large, galvanized tub over an open fire, and then took turns relaxing in the clawfoot tub in the bathroom.  The power was out at the home, but the wood burning stove still functioned perfectly.  After they had all bathed, they warmed some canned goods on the stove and sat down to enjoy the odd breakfast.

“So,” Geram said, “the door, what do you think it means?”

“I’m sure it’s a message from Dad, I’m just not sure what he’s trying to say.”

“Yeah, me neither.”

They ate in silence for a while as they enjoyed the sense of normalcy brought on by the baths and a meal at a table.  As she finished her plate, Kate got up to retrieve the percolator from the stove and topped off their cups.

“If you’re going to meet someone,” she said, “what all do you need to know?”

“Well,” Jake said, “you need to know where to meet them.”

Geram interrupted, “And when.”

“Right,” Kate replied, “a time and a place; that’s all you need to know.  That door has the time and the place.  We’re already pretty sure of the place though, right?”

“The landing.”

“Yeah, the landing.”  She opened the door inward so that they could see the markings from the table.

“You’re right Hun; BLL, that’s Bates Lake Landing.  Now we’re getting somewhere.”

She smiled, “We know the place, now we just need a time.”

“Too easy,” Geram replied, “0100 has got to be one in the morning.”

Jake slammed the table with the palm of his hand as he exclaimed, “Thursday, one o’clock at the landing!”  They cheered and laughed as they deciphered the message that was lovingly left for them.

“You know what this means,” Geram said, “Every week for months, Pop’s been coming to that landing to look for us.  He’s been waiting and watching for us since the crash.”

Jake smiled, “That’s Dad.”

***

Jake, Kate and Geram crept down to the landing with their weapons ready.  They had left the Bronco a mile or so up the dusty, red-dirt road to allow for a silent approach.  The ground at the landing sloped quickly down to the lake below.  The tiny fishing community was dotted with camp houses on timber pilings near the water’s edge.  They did not see a single light on the lake.  Apparently the landing was experiencing a blackout.

Jake checked his watch, it was 12:45.  They sat on a stump close to the water that was concealed by a small stand of scrub trees.  The night was loud with the sounds of the swamp.  The frogs, owls, insects and other creatures serenaded the three as they waited for contact.  Sasha quietly followed several cold trails around the stump before giving up and stepping out into the lake.  She lay down in water nearly a foot deep and began lapping it up happily.

Jake peered across the water but saw nothing.  He checked his watch again; 12:50.

“What if he doesn’t show?”

“He’ll show.”

“I know he’ll show if he can, but what if something happened to them?”

“I don’t even want to think about it.  I have no idea what we’d do.  I guess we’d just go back.”

“Talk about an awkward return, and I don’t even know how we’d make it back.”

Geram chuckled and replied, “None of that matters; he’ll show.”

“We’ve got a lot of memories out here, you know.”

“Tell me about it.  A lot of hunting and fishing and just being together, the three of us.”

“I hope one day there’s time for that again.”

“That might be a long time off.”

“You’ve got to have something to hope for; something to live for.  Otherwise, what’s it all for?”

Suddenly, they were illuminated by a spotlight from somewhere across the lake.  They jumped off the stump and crouched behind it.  Jake checked his watch; 12:59.

“It’s him.”

“It better be.”  Geram gripped the rifle tightly in his hands.

The boat silently trolled across the lake and landed just feet from the stump, its gentle wake lapping at the shore.  The brothers were met at the water’s edge by a bear of a man.  He grabbed each of them with tree trunk arms and pulled them to him.

“My boys!  Thank you God for my boys!”

“We’re all here.”

“Kate!”  Clayton released them and grabbed her, lifting her off the ground with his giant hug.  “You been keeping ‘em straight, sweetie?”

Kate laughed and replied, “They manage themselves; you’ve got good boys, Clay.”

“Yeah I do, yeah I do.”

Moses bounded out of the aluminum boat and greeted Sasha with a wagging tail.  He nuzzled her wet head with his.  She returned the affection of her new friend.  He jumped back in the boat and she followed immediately behind him.  They both took a seat in the front of the vessel.

Clayton laughed at the dogs and said, “I have to agree with the pair, we should get going.  It’s safer on the water, and Claire won’t want to miss a minute of the reunion.”

The night was starry and clear as they raced across the muddy waters.  The stars and moon reflected off of the open water all around them.  The brothers were flooded with memories as they recognized the landmarks from times long past.  The towering, solitary, cypress tree still stood like a colossus at the mouth of the lake.  The ancient, oak tree that grew horizontally and hung over the river still beckoned them to its domain.  The world had changed all around it, but the swamp had remained the same.

Geram stared in awe at the rifle mounted in the center of the boat.   He looked up at Clayton and shouted over the sound of the motor, “You’re practically running a gunship here!”

“What?”

Geram simply pointed to the Barrett. Clayton let out a bellowing laugh and exclaimed, “Isn’t it a work of art?  It’s already paid for itself in spades out here.”

Geram huddled up to the gun and swung it left and right, testing it out.  He turned and said to Jake, “This thing is perfect, it puts you head and shoulders above anyone else out here.  A three-man team would be nearly invincible: one on the gun, one with a rifle and the operator – I could get used to this.”

Jake flashed a smile and shot back, “He always thinks of everything, doesn’t he?”

As they pulled alongside the staircase and tied the boat off, Claire stepped out the front door. She squealed in delight upon seeing the three.  She rushed down the stairs and met them as they were coming up.  She wrapped her arms tightly around all three of them and wept with joy.

Claire fixed a late night dinner of catfish and cornbread.  The family ate and laughed and talked about life in the past few months.  For a short while, the sorrows and realities of recent events disappeared.  Sasha and Moses were exhausted from the long night; they both lay head to tail in front of the door.  After several hours of celebration, Claire and Kate retired, so the men took their conversation outside.

Clayton leaned against the railing and stared off into the faintly illuminated swamp.  The blue hour of twilight was just beginning to break the shadows of the night.  The brothers sat on the stairs in quiet contentment. It felt strange to not have a goal or task that need completing in the morning.  They were where they had strived to be, their journey was over.

“I know I’ve said it before, but I can’t tell you both how good it feels to have you here.”

“It feels good to be here.”

“We’ve worried about you so much.”

“It’s over now; we’re here.  We can relax for a while.”

Clayton moved closer and paused for several minutes, enjoying the silence before continuing, “I really don’t want to bring this up, not tonight, but I don’t have a choice.”

“What is it, Dad?” Jake asked.

“I’m not asking you boys to come.  It’s not your fight, but I have to go.  We’ve been planning it for several days now, the sheriff, several others and me.  Tomorrow night we’re raiding a camp just north of town.  Not long ago some people moved in and they’ve been causing a lot of trouble for everybody.

Several people in town’ve been killed and they tried their hardest to get me a little over a week ago.  They were foolish enough to follow me up into the swamp and I managed to take one alive.  By the time I got to him, he was ready to tell me his life story.  We’ll all be deputized and are going in under the pretense of making arrests, but if they try to fight back, all bets are off.”

Geram interrupted, “So you’re telling me somebody tried to kill you last week and you’re going to get the people responsible for it, and we can just stay here?”

“It’s not your fight.  I don’t want you to get involved.”

“We’re already involved; it’s as much our fight as it is yours.  We’re in, like it or not.”

Cha pter 25

Reese

Houston, Texas

The Humvee slowly drove down Main Street in downtown Houston. Reese opened the top hatch and emerged with a megaphone.  He noticed how empty the city looked.  It was almost as if the city had already been evacuated.  No one went outside anymore; it was too dangerous these days.  Soon enough, he reasoned, the streets would be awash with panic-stricken mobs.

“Attention residents of Houston, this is not a test, this is not a drill.  An imminent terror threat has been detected within the city.  The governor has declared a state of emergency.  By order of the governor, all citizens should evacuate immediately.  I repeat, all citizens should evacuate immediately.”

He paused to listen for a moment.  It sounded as if his voice was echoing all across the city, but he knew it was not.  Those were the voices of nearly twenty other men in as many Humvees performing the same drill all over the Houston metropolitan area.

“Please do not panic.  Listen to the following instructions and perform them in a calm and orderly fashion.  If you do not have a means of evacuation, please report to the nearest METRORail station to be transported to Reliant Park for evacuation by bus.  Every able-bodied member of your family should pack a backpack or suitcase full of nonperishable food, toiletries, a change of undergarments and bottled water.

If you do have transportation, please calmly evacuate the city.   First responders on the ground will direct you onto the evacuation route that is designated for your area.  Your cooperation is required and appreciated.  Thank you.”

He paused to listen again and heard the varying instructions from the other distant megaphones, depending on the area of the city.  Those nearest to the METRORail would be directed to board it, but other areas would be collected by school bus or public transit.  A select few closest to the airports would be shuttled there and flown to DFW, and the remaining evacuees would be collected by freight trains, semis and flatbed trucks.  Those that were deemed able would be forced to walk out on foot.  They would continue this cycle until everyone was evacuated, the city fell into complete anarchy or the nuclear device was detonated. Reese shivered at the thought.

Before the start of the Greatest Depression, Houston was the fourth largest city in the country with over two million people.  It also had the fifth largest metropolitan area with over six million people.  No one knew how many people were left in the Houston area, but Reese reasoned at least four million, still far too many people to expect to follow the instructions without incident.

He watched as the first of the panicked citizenry flooded out onto the streets, without any of the items that they were instructed to bring. Reese knew the frenzy would spread chaos and terror among the others that would otherwise try to remain calm and act as instructed.  He prayed that they did not start to-

He cursed as he watched the first storefront window shatter.  It was a small convenience store.  A mob of looters rushed in to grab anything they could.  Within mere moments, they began to fight each other over the sparse items remaining on the shelves.  It was a horrible start to their plan, and it was just the beginning.

Reese radioed for reinforcements along Main Street as the anarchy intensified.  He shouted into the Humvee and was handed a pump shotgun chambered with less than lethal ammo.  He fired several quick volleys of rubber shot into the raucous crowds to disperse them.  The rounds were not deadly at the distance they were fired from, but they were still excruciatingly painful.  The crowd begrudgingly dispersed, for the time being.  He knew the sound of gunfire would be unnerving to those that were properly preparing for the evacuation as instructed, but the sight of chaos in the streets would have been even worse.

Within several minutes, reinforcements arrived in Humvees and police cruisers to further disperse and control the crowds, just as they began to flare up again.  Reese breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the mixed group of soldiers and officers. He climbed out of the vehicle and handed the megaphone to a young guardsman that was to take over his post.

Families were beginning to filter out of the surrounding apartments and make their way to the METRORrail stations.  The presence of the armed officers and soldiers was both unnerving and comforting to them at the same time.  Reese flashed a nervous smile and a nod to some soldiers standing nearby as he walked to the back of a pickup truck with Harris County Sheriff’s Department emblazoned on the side.  Several officers were unloading the three motorcycles that he had requested off of a trailer.  He thanked them as he climbed on the first bike and sped away to the near east side of the city.  Two Texas Rangers followed closely behind him on the remaining bikes.

The city’s light rail system, METRORail, was just beginning to collect the first of its passengers as Reese left on the bike.  The route started at the University of Houston-Downtown on Buffalo Bayou. It led south eight miles through the vibrant downtown district along Main Street, past Herman Park, through the sprawling Texas Medical Center and ended at the aptly named Reliant Park.  From there, a portion of the city’s more than twelve hundred buses were staged to evacuate south along Highway 288, on several reserved lanes.  Once out of the city, the buses were routed to the coastal communities from Galveston to Corpus Christi.

The coordination and execution by METRORail was valiant, but the system was utterly overwhelmed as riders were squeezed onto standing room only trains, pushing the transport capacity of eight thousand people per hour to nearly twelve.  Despite the increased capacity, hysterical people were left waiting as the trains quickly filled up and moved on down the line.  The unfortunate evacuees that were left behind were infuriated and were beginning to clash with each other and police.

As Reese sped across the city on the bike, he was able to clearly view several of the major highways leading out of Houston.  The evacuation routes were a nightmare on the grandest of scales.  Some had already abandoned their vehicles on the side of the road and had taken to walking out of the city.  The abandoned vehicles only added to the chaos.  Some were not even fully out of the travel lanes.  Frustration mounted as the remaining panicked motorists watched as entire families passed them on foot.

Most gas stations had been long ago depleted because of the collapsing economy, but somehow the roads leading out of Houston were still gridlocked with traffic.  Reese imagined that most of the vehicles on the road had less than five gallons of gas in their tanks.  He reasoned that tempers would soon flare, and fights would erupt between motorists as affability was exchanged for anarchy.

As he crossed over North Delano Street on Canal Street, the city presented a stark contrast.  The homes were old and battered, the streets were in horrible condition and trash blew like tumbleweeds through the neighborhood.  Security bars were on practically every door, and window-mounted air-conditioning units were caged in the Second Ward.  He noticed that the area was lacking of any vegetation.  Trees, bushes, and even grass was scarce in the bleak neighborhood.

Reese and the two rangers avoided any side roads since they were alone and highly exposed on the bikes.  A scoped M4 carbine was slung across Reese’s back while his MP5 hung in front of him from a single point sling. He leaned in close to the bike and slalomed between abandoned vehicles and errant trash cans.  The rangers, also equipped with M4s, followed closely behind his lead.

Less than a mile ahead, Reese could see several Humvees and cruisers in the road.  Beyond them, he noticed several soldiers and officers sprinting for cover behind the vehicles.  As he eased off of the throttle, he began to hear the gunshots.

He stopped several blocks back from the melee and shouldered his rifle to get a better view of the scene ahead.  The two rangers stopped their bikes on either side of him.  Reese saw an angry crowd of armed locals streaming towards the small group of emergency workers that were huddled behind the vehicles.

The assailants were taking cover behind front porch columns, crouching behind bullet riddled cars and leaning from the upper windows of nearby houses as they fired at the evacuation team.  The gunfire was intense.  The soldiers and officers were unable to retreat.  They were helplessly pinned behind their vehicles and quickly being surrounded.

Reese got into position on a front porch that afforded him a protected view of the gunfight.  He searched the street with his scope until he found his first target, a twenty to thirty year old male with two pistols that was firing indiscriminately towards the evacuation team.  He exhaled slowly and squeezed the trigger in the lull between breaths.  He watched as the man stumbled and fell to the ground. He panned right and then left, connecting with several more assailants before the assault began to wane.  The rangers also began to search and engage any armed residents that were a threat to the team ahead of them.

They continued to fire over the heads of their comrades at anyone beyond that was brave or foolish enough to step out from behind their cover.  The suppressive fire afforded the pinned team the opportunity they desperately needed to retreat into their vehicles and escape from the scene.  As the fleeing vehicles approached their position, Reese and the men ran back to their bikes and whipped back onto Canal Street.  The merged in front of an approaching Humvee and used the silhouette of the larger vehicle to protect their backs as they fled the doomed Second Ward.

When they reached Highway 59, they turned south and rallied at the large parking lot east of the Astro’s stadium.  The area was the site Reese had selected as the forward operating base for the evacuation.  It was awash with communication vans, Humvees and a myriad of other support vehicles.  Portable radio towers and generators were also visible.  Reese motored over to a group of black communication vans, opened the back door of the largest one and stepped inside.  The technicians looked to be under intense pressure.

“Update me, guys.”

A young guardsman, with thick eyeglasses, spun in his chair to face Reese and responded nervously, “Several of the evac teams are coming under fire from locals.  The highways leading out of the city are close to gridlock and many residents are simply refusing to leave and become refugees.”

Reese let out a deep sigh and rested his hands on his head as he replied, “Do you have any good news?”

“Only that the METRORail and city buses seem to be functioning as hoped.  They’ve evacuated close to thirty thousand people from downtown in a little over two hours.  The crowds are getting anxious though; we’re getting reports from team members on the ground that they’re not sure how long before depots fall into complete disorder.”

“I don’t know if that’s good news, but I guess it’ll have to do.  Tell the teams working the rail and buses to keep a tight leash on any troublemakers.  If they need to make an example out of someone, do it.  If chaos breaks out, then the evacuation breaks down and lots of people die.  Understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“Tell all teams that’re broadcasting evacuation orders that if they come under fire, they are to fall back and move to the next area on their agenda.  We don’t have the resources to perform a rescue of our own people.”

“Yes sir.”

“And have one of the choppers make a pass and see if they can locate any specific problem areas on the highways leading out of the city.  If they see any disabled vehicles or other obstructions that are blocking traffic and causing gridlock, send some teams to remove them.  We’ve got to keep traffic flowing.  If we don’t, we’re going to have even more of a nightmare on our hands if this bomb actually goes off.”

“Yes sir.”

A second technician spun, thrust a phone towards Reese and said, “Agent Byers, it’s the governor.”

Reese grabbed the phone and said, “Hey, it’s me.”

“Reese, give me an update; how’s the city holding up?”

Reese paused for a moment before replying, “It’s not good.  We need another day, maybe two to get everyone out, but I don’t think we’ve got that long.  I just hope it’s not in the city already.  Maybe we can intercept it.”

“All we can do is work as hard as we can with the time we’ve been given.  I can’t tell you how grateful I am for what you’ve done already.”

“This is what I do; the impossible.  This is where I should be.”

  “Well, you’re a hero to all of Texas.  Now, give me some updates on our objectives.”

“The bomb squads are sweeping areas considered likely targets.  They haven’t found anything yet, but there is so much real estate to cover.  We’re talking sixty and seventy story skyscrapers, huge government buildings, sports arenas – they’ve got a daunting task.

  The interstates and highways are already close to gridlock. I never imagined there was enough fuel left in Houston to power this many cars.  The lanes are already operating on contraflow and we’re trying to locate any congestion zones that we can relieve.

The METRORail and the buses are our bright spots, but they aren’t moving people quickly enough. It’s building up to a frenzy.  In another couple of hours we may have riots at the depots.  I told the teams working these locations to get heavy handed if they have to.  We have to maintain order at the rail and bus stops.

Some of our evacuation teams are getting fired at by residents.  They’ve been instructed to abandon an area if that happens.  A lot of people are simply refusing to leave.  Looters and vandals are taking to the streets also.”

“Dear God, don’t these people know their lives are at stake?”

The first technician waved another phone at Reese and mouthed, “Checkpoint Two.”

“Scott, I have to let you go; I’m getting a call from one of the checkpoints.  I’ll try to call you in an hour or so and update you again.”

Reese hung up the phone before Governor Baker could respond and transitioned to the second phone call, “Agent Byers here; go ahead, Checkpoint Two.”

“Sir, we have a suspicious vehicle.  Are you available?”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Reese stepped back out of the black van and walked to his motorcycle.  The rangers were still straddling their bikes with the engines idling loudly, waiting for their next instructions.  Reese nodded and pointed two fingers at them, meaning Checkpoint Two, as he climbed back on the bike and started it again.  The men nodded back and revved their engines in response.  The three bikes rumbled loudly as they sped out of the parking lot and flew down South Freeway to the checkpoint at the Sam Houston Parkway junction.

Reese could see the box truck among the flashing blue lights of the cruisers in the distance ahead.  As he approached, Reese realized the truck was actually swarmed by cruisers nearly a mile south of the blockade.  By the look of the truck’s positioning, the driver had apparently tried to turn around upon seeing the checkpoint.  Unfortunately for him, it was already too late.

As Reese and the rangers arrived at the box truck, he noted the logo on the side, Mountain Spring Water Company, Brownsville, TX.  The officers were just pulling two men out of the cab.  They were both about thirty years old and lanky.  Reese noted that all of the color had drained from their faces.

“What’s going on here?” he asked.

One of the officers responded, “They tried to avoid our checkpoint but we got ‘em.  They said they were making a delivery to downtown.  When we asked to take a look in the back, they refused.  That’s as far as we got before you arrived.”

Reese stared at the men for several seconds.  He could tell his gaze made them uncomfortable.

“Open it up.”

An officer walked to the back of the truck and said, “Somebody grab some bolt cutters, it’s padlocked.”

A second officer retrieved some from cutters his trunk and rushed over.  As they cut the lock and began to open the door, a hail of gunfire suddenly erupted from within, hitting both officers in the chest and head.  The pair stumbled backwards and fell to the ground.

The remaining team members jumped with surprise, caught completely off guard by the ambush.  Several men drew their service pistols and began to fire blindly into the side of the truck.  The two rangers shouldered their carbines and slowly began to make their way to the open back door.

A second volley of gunfire exploded from within, this time in the direction of the pistol fire from the side.  The rifle rounds ripped through the thin shell of the truck and pierced the air all around the team.  The lanky driver was struck in the neck and sunk to his knees.  He brought his hand up to his neck to try and stop the blood from gushing from his ruptured, carotid artery.  His face was as white as the edge stripe on the pavement beside him.  He began to go into shock.