Текст книги "The Western Front"

Автор книги: Archer Garrett

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

***

The Learjet was plush and relaxing, compliments of one of his many supporters.  William was half-way back to D.C. and on his second martini.  He could not have felt any better.  He stared out the window at Chesapeake Bay.  It was empty; there were no sailboats, no yachts – nothing.  The open water was desolate.

From his comfortable, captain’s chair, he closed his eyes and envisioned the horror and suffering that was occuring far beneath him.  He did not feel sympathy to those below him. He knew that it was a necessary transition that had to be endured to achieve his ends.

He could see the pain in many of the faces of the people who came to his protests.  They were searching for guidance from anyone that would give it.  He gave them his solutions and they believed him without question.  A fundamental ideological transformation would be required before he would allow things to return to some semblance of normalcy.

His feet were propped up and he was beginning to fall asleep when his phone began to vibrate.  He ignored the first and second calls, but he finally relented and answered the third.

“What?”

“How was your little rally in Philly?”

“It was so amazing, you wouldn’t believe it.  We brought that town to its knees.  We had over five thousand people show up and had probably another five thousand join in before I left, and it’s not over – not by a long shot.  They’ll be burning that town for a week.”

“Did you do your German bit?”

“Of course, they loved it.”

“They’d love it so much more if they had a clue as to what it meant.”

William laughed.

“William, we need to meet soon.  I need to come to the city.”

“What about?”

“I’m not talking about it over the phone.  I’ll be in town in a few days. I’ll call you when I get there.  We can meet at Johnny’s spot.”

“I better not be disappointed with this meeting.”

The man sounded perturbed by his response, “See you in a few days, alright?”

“Looking forward to it.”

Chapter 12

Jake

West Mississippi

Jake cautiously approached the front door with his AR pistol in his hand.  Again someone banged on the door.  He stopped several feet short and at a sharp angle.  He called out, “Who’s there?”

Geram took up a defensive position in the hall with the short-barreled shotgun.

“Don’t shoot, it’s Levi Richardson.”

Jake unlocked and opened the door, “Levi, is everyone alright?”

“We’re fine.  There hasn’t been any trouble since we cut the roads, like Geram said.”

“Good, have a seat.  I’ll get you some coffee.”

Levi followed Jake inside and took a seat at the kitchen table.  Jake grabbed the coffee pot and several cups from the kitchen.  Geram appeared and slapped Levi on the back before taking a seat as well.  Jake returned and offered the men each a cup.

“So,” Jake said, “you’ve got me worried.  Tell me what’s going on.”

“Y’all are leaving tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, it’s too hard to step outside and see Frank’s empty house.  We need to move on.  Need a new start.”

“I think you should leave tonight, Jake.”

“I don’t understand.  You know how dangerous it is to be on the road at night.”

“I know, but if you wait until the morning, you might not be able to leave.  Tonight at the meeting, the town discussed not letting anyone in or out anymore.  They don’t want people on the outside that know our weaknesses.  They’re planning on stationing several people at each road leading out of town.”

Jake and Geram sat in silence for several moments.  Finally, Jake replied, “Thank you Levi; you didn’t owe us a warning, but I appreciate that you came.  You’re right, we’ll leave tonight.  I don’t want to risk a confrontation with people I respect.”

“You’re welcome, and you’re wrong; I did owe it to you.  We’re family out here, all of us.  We always have been.  What they’re doing is wrong.”

“They’re scared Levi, we understand.  If I was staying, I can’t say that I’d disagree.”

The men sat and talked for several more minutes as they finished their coffee.  Afterwards, they exchanged goodbyes and walked Levi to the door.  They watched as he mounted his slender horse and trotted off into the night.

Geram said, “I guess we should get moving.”  He paused and shook his head, before adding, “I sure was looking forward to some rest.”

As they walked back inside, Jake retrieved a road map and laid it on the dining table.  He and Geram reexamined their chosen route.

Jake said, “The shortest distance between two points may be a straight line, but the safest route seems to be an awkward arc through half of Mississippi.”

“Sticking to the back roads and avoiding cities and interstates does make for a longer drive, but it’s our safest bet.”

“It’s our only bet, trying to take I-10 would be suicidal.”

“You’re sure the Bronco will have enough fuel for the trip?”

“We should, but if we have to turn back too often to find other routes because of blocked roads, or worse, it could get close.  It would be great if we could find some fuel along the way.”

“I wouldn’t count on it.  Most abandoned vehicles will probably be empty, and any fuel that was in their tanks was probably siphoned off long ago.  Most of the relatively safe, rural, gas stations have long since closed, and I don’t really want to get close enough to civilization to find a working gas pump.”

“We’ll just have to hope for the best and see where we stand when we’re down to a quarter of a tank.”  Jake rolled the maps back up and handed them to Geram.  “Would you mind helping Kate finish loading the Bronco?  I’ve got something I need to do.”

Geram nodded.

Jake grabbed his AR and walked out the front door.

***

Kate eased the Bronco along the side of the house while Geram made last minute preparations for the long trip.  The back of the Bronco was filled with cases of water, canned and dry goods, ammo cans and countless other items that would be useful along the way.  Several 5 gallon containers of fuel were mounted to the back of the SUV.  Important paperwork, such as deeds, was stored inside the back seat, by means of a slit in the fabric that Kate had just finished sewing up.

Sasha was waiting in the back seat of the Bronco.  She was quite excited about the journey they were about to embark on.  She wagged her tail in anticipation as Geram and Kate would approach with an armful of supplies, before whining with disappointment as they gave her a simple pat on the head and returned to more pressing duties.

While Kate loaded and organized the last of the supplies, Geram performed a detailed check of the Bronco.  Fluid levels, hoses, wiring and tire pressures were all meticulously inspected.  After he was satisfied that everything was in good working order, he sat down in the front seat and turned to give Sasha the attention she had been begging for.  When Kate finished with the last load, she sat in the back and asked, “Where’s Jake?”

“He asked me to give him a minute alone; I don’t know what he’s doing.”

“Oh.  He’s probably saying goodbye.”

***

Jake walked through the living room and into the dark hall.  The hardwood flooring creaked from the weight of his steps.  His flashlight was the only source of light.  Walking through the old house brought back a lot of memories for Jake, memories that hurt him to remember so soon after losing his friends.

He recalled all the times he had helped Frank on his farm.  He remembered all the tricks he had learned from the old man about how to keep a homestead running and live comfortably off the fruits of the land.  He had helped with everything from baling hay to birthing calves.  Frank had taught him so much.  He felt there was still so much more he needed to learn, so much that he was not quite ready for.

He paused for a moment and leaned against the wall.  His chest was tight with fear and anger and sorrow.  He allowed the memories to filter in, one by one. Slowly, he reconciled the past with the present. After a while, the tightness began to fade.  He took a deep breath and continued down the hall.

He remembered when Frank had first mentioned it years ago.  He felt ashamed he had nothing to offer in return for the gesture.  He brushed it off and told Frank that he was too stubborn to die, nothing would ever happen to him, but it had.  Jake had never mentioned the conversation to anyone else.  Now, as he stood at the end of the hall, he felt guilty for being there.  He pushed the feelings aside; Frank had wanted him to do this.

He opened the narrow closet door that was opposite of Mrs. Thames’ room.  It was filled with cardboard boxes of holiday decorations, crafts and old clothes.  He carefully removed the contents of the closet and placed them inside Mrs. Thames’ room until the musty closet was empty.

A small steel door, maybe three feet wide and five feet tall, was all that remained in the space.  He spun the dial back and forth a few times before beginning:

73-31-86

He tried to turn the handle but nothing happened.  He thought for a moment and tried again:

73-13-86

He tried the handle again, but this time it spun freely.  He pulled the heavy door open and stepped into the darkness.

The small room was maybe eight feet square.  Everything was concrete:  the floor, walls, even the ceiling.  Jake noticed the temperature in the vault was much cooler than the rest of the house.  The walls were lined with steel shelving on all sides.

Jake shined his flashlight along the shelves and was amazed at everything he saw. He knew Frank was a man that considered all possibilities, much like he, but he never imagined the completeness of his preparations.

Most of the rifles Jake had seen before and were nothing remarkable.  He saw several old M1 carbines, some Garands, two ancient Mausers, numerous 1911 pistols, worn revolvers and several miscellaneous rifles and shotguns.  The amount of ammo for the weapons, however, was truly staggering.  One shelf was stacked with nothing but surplus ammo cans.

The final shelf contained the items that interested Jake the most: night-vision gear, Kevlar vests and plate carriers for protection against rifle rounds.  There were also a couple of vests with numerous pouches for magazines and other supplies.  He panned the flashlight up the shelving and noticed several hand held radios and a radio frequency scanner.  Frank may not have subscribed to the advances in firearms technology, but in all other areas he seemed willing to embrace the fruits of the modern era.

Jake turned off the flashlight and stared at the ceiling for a moment, before saying aloud, “I don’t know what to say, Frank.  Thank you seems like an understatement.  Your foresight may save my life, or maybe Kate’s life.  You always thought ahead, my friend.”

He paused for a minute as the tightness in his chest returned.

“Why?  Why didn’t you use when you needed it most?”

A wave of both sorrow and gratitude overtook him as a silent voice whispered in his mind, perhaps he never intended it for himself.

He had pushed the grief aside for days.  The night they found Frank, the day of the funeral, the time spent preparing to leave – there was always something more important to be done.  Now, in the vault, he sat on the cold, hard floor and wept.

***

Geram noticed Jake before Kate did.  His face seemed more resolute than it had in the past several days.  He had something slung over his shoulder as he walked towards them. Upon reaching the front, passenger door, he handed Geram the Kevlar vest and said, “There’re a few more things I need your help with before we go.”

Geram examined the vest, before replying, “If there’s any more of these, I don’t mind at all.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe.”

Jake walked over to Kate and leaned in the Bronco. Sasha leaned forward and licked his forehead.  He put his hands on Kate’s shoulders and rested his head against hers as he whispered, “I think we’re going to be alright.  I love you.”

She smiled, kissed his lips and replied, “I love you to, I’m glad you’re back.”

“I was only gone a few minutes.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He kissed her forehead and then shoved Geram as he made gagging sounds in the front seat.

“I’m going to be sick if the whole trip is you two making out.”

“Fine then, I’ll take that vest back.”

“You know, it’s okay if I get a little queasy after all.”

Jake laughed, “Just shut up and follow me.”

***

As Jake drove away, they stared through the darkness at the fields and farms that passed by them.  They knew that they would probably never return.  It saddened Kate to leave the home she loved so much.  She could name the families on every farm for miles.  She appreciated how the community had taken her in when they had first moved here.  Looking back, she remembered how young she was.  She could barely bake a cake, but the old ladies took her in and taught her everything they knew.  She embraced their generosity and eagerly absorbed their sage wisdom, hard earned from years of first-hand experiences.  She knew she would miss the people that had helped make her who she was. Kate hoped against hope that one day they could come back.

As they passed the last farm heading east, the road became much darker.  The open fields and pastures from before were replaced by thick walls of trees and vegetation on both sides of the road.  Much of the forest was stands of timber that had not received their prescribed burning as needed.  The undergrowth had become impossibly dense.  The road felt much safer when they were surrounded by the open fields.  Now, it seemed danger could be lurking just off of the shoulder of the road.

As they topped the final hill before the bridge, they saw the orange tractor that had been used to cut the trench across the highway.  They also noticed an old four-wheel drive truck parked beside it.  Several figures stood in the center of the road with lanterns and rifles.

Geram clenched the FN FAL and said, “I thought they weren’t coming out until in the morning?”

“I guess they changed their minds.  Easy with the rifle, I know all of these men.  When I stop you can open your door and steady the rifle, but don’t get out where they can see it. I want to talk to them first.  If any of them make a move on me, though, kill ‘em.”

“Be careful, Jake.”  Kate pleaded.

“Yeah Jake, listen to Kate.  This whole town is spooked ever since, well, you know.”

“Believe me, I know.  I’ll be careful.”  Jake eased the Bronco to a stop about a hundred yards from the men and slowly climbed out. He shoved the long-barreled revolver in his pants at the small of his back and clipped one of the hand-held radios to his back pocket.  Before he stepped forward, he shined his flashlight on himself and shouted, “It’s Jake Sellers, don’t shoot fellas.”

“We know who it is, Jake,” the first man replied, “Come a little closer so we don’t have to shout.”

Jake walked towards the men as casually as possible.  When he was a dozen yards away, he spoke again, “We’ve decided to leave.  We can’t stand to live next to the old Thames’ house, especially with the way that they died.  Do you mind helping me get across, Hank?”

“Did Levi Richardson tell you?”

“Levi? No, haven’t seen him all day.”

“Don’t lie to me Jake; I’ve known you for far too long.  We’ve decided to prohibit anyone from crossing the bridge.  No one in or out unless it’s an emergency, and Levi told you about our decision.  Old man Richardson sent word that the boy didn’t come home after church.  We all know where he went.”

“Okay, so I lied.  You’re right – I admit it.  You’re right on two points though, you’ve known me for far too long; far too long to treat a friend this way, Hank.”

“It’s nothing personal.  It is what it is.  We have to protect our own. We can’t let someone like you, someone that knows this place so well, leave and compromise everyone else’s safety.”

“You have my word, my oath. I will never return and will never mention this place to anyone, ever.”

“That’s just not good enough Jake. I can’t let you leave.  It’s been decided.  Now please, just go home.”

Jake exhaled deeply and moved his right foot into position, slightly ahead of his shoulders.  He leaned forward and put his weight on the front foot.  He rested both hands on his hips before speaking again, this time much more forcefully.

“How long have you known me, all of you?”

“It doesn’t matter, Jake it-”

Jake cut the man off as he raised his voice to a shout, “I said – how long have you known me?”

“Umm, maybe eight years?”

“Ten years, Hank.  Ten years.  How many times have we shot together behind your barn?”

“I don’t know; a lot.”

“That’s right a lot.  Tell everybody here how fast my draw is.”

“It’s pre-”

Before Hank could finish the sentence, Jake had drawn and leveled the revolver even with his head.  The man began stammer.  Jake snarled once again, now in complete control of the encounter.

“Damn it, Hank!  Is this what it is now?  Do I kill you in front of our friends?  Do not, nobody, do not move, or I will kill Hank McCaskill right where he stands.  Understand?”

The three men nodded.

Jake continued, “I know what you’re thinking, because I’m thinking it too. I can’t kill all three of you.”  Jake grasped the radio with his other hand and pressed the button.  “Geram, if I shoot, I want you to kill everyone left standing.  Except me, don’t kill me.”

“Wilco.”

He could hear Kate screaming in the background of the broadcast.

With his point well made, Jake exhaled deeply and spoke in a more reserved voice.  “I’m going to ask each of you to, one at a time, put all of your weapons on the ground in front of you.  Then, you’re going to take ten steps back.  After that, I’ll have Geram pull ahead.  We’ll pat you down and then Hank will get on the tractor and lay those cross ties across the gap.  Then, we leave.  Once we’re over the gap, you’ll remove the cross ties.  We’ll leave your weapons on the bridge and you can come get them after we’re gone.  Understood?”

The men quietly nodded and did as was ordered.

Jake radioed Geram and he pulled the Bronco forward.  Hank climbed onto the tractor and pushed the creosote railroad ties over the trench.  Geram gathered up the men’s weapons and placed them on the front passenger seat of the SUV.  Jake followed behind on foot as Geram pulled the Bronco across the trench and onto the bridge beyond.

Jake paused for a moment and turned to face the men.  “I’ll always remember this night, Hank.  This is the night this town went mad.  Not when Sam Coleman murdered Frank and Margaret, it was tonight. You probably hate me right now.  You probably want me dead.  I want you to know something, I couldn’t’ve pulled that trigger.  Geram would’ve killed you, no doubt in my mind, but I couldn’t have done it.”

Jake cleared his throat and continued, “We’re living in a time that’ll be remembered for ages, believe me.  How we live, how we treat our neighbors, it’ll all be remembered.  We’ve been shoved into a forge, but we’ve a choice; we can melt into something that has no resemblance of who we were, or we can rise up and allow our imperfections to burn off and leave men of substance in its place.  It’s our choice.”

As he turned to leave, Hank replied, “Jake, wait.”

He paused and looked back.  “Yeah?”

“I’m sorry, we’re sorry.  That’s all I can say.”

He sighed and said, “It’s alright, I’m sorry to.”

“If you ever – I mean, if things get better and you want to, you still have a home here.”

“Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

“I do.  We do.”

The other men nodded in agreement.

“Thanks, all of you; maybe one day.  By the way, have someone go by Frank’s house and check the closet at the end of the hall.  I left it open. I think there may be a few things in there that you’re going to need before this mess is over.”

Ch apter 13

Barrett

Brownsville, Texas

Barrett listened as the sound of the Black Hawk faded into the east.  He turned back towards the group.  In a way, he thought, it was a joint mission.  The twelve member squad was evenly selected from the guardsmen and the SEALs; six of each.  The SEALs had the combat experience that was desperately needed, and the guards knew the area better than any.  At this point, however, the six operators were probably considered former SEALs by their employer.

Officially, Barrett was the squad leader, but he had deferred many of the leadership roles to Holt, the code name adopted by the young SEAL Lieutenant.  Barrett had previously served as a SEAL, but never as a squad leader.  To him, the most experienced person should lead. There was no room for ego in the field.

They had been dropped on a small wooded island just north of the intersection of 77 and University Boulevard, in Brownsville.  Their mission was to proceed southwest through the UT at Brownsville campus and the Fort Brown Memorial Golf Course, across the Rio Grande and into Matamoros, Mexico.  Once in Mexico they would recon de Parque Olimpico; Olympic Park.

Texan predator drones had recently picked up some unusual activity at the park.  Semi-trucks had been observed hauling canopied loads into the area.  An extensive array of large canvas hangars had begun to appear several days ago.  The park more closely resembled the terminal areas of an airport, rather than a public green space.

The trucks’ cargo would remain covered until they pulled under one of the hangars.  Once unloaded, the trucks would leave empty.  Whatever was being delivered was intended to be hidden from prying eyes.

     They spread out among the thicket in a wedge formation and rechecked their gear.  Barrett listened for any sounds of movement nearby.  The once-bustling city was eerily silent.  Occasionally a vehicle could be heard speeding down the highway, most likely a member of the Z-G.  Even Mexican nationals were rarely seen north of the border.  The cartels had become increasingly violent, and it was not always targeted at the gringos.  As bad as it was south of the border, just north of it was far worse.  The northern incursion by the cartels had brought with it a scorched earth policy as they plundered the spoils of the American southwest.

After several minutes of uneventful silence, they began to slowly move west to the short causeway that led off the island.  They stayed off of the narrow asphalt pavement, preferring the concealment that the shadows afforded.  Their night-vision allowed them to move easily through the heavy blanket of darkness that enveloped the city – a symptom of a failed, or rather an abandoned, power grid.

As they left the wooded sanctuary of the island, the backdrop quickly changed to the deserted, low-class suburbs of south Brownsville.  The squad navigated the block and took their second left onto East 24th Street.

Barrett was horrified as he looked down the neighborhood street. Brownsville had obviously received the full burden of the violence.  Most of the battered homes’ windows and doors were smashed and broken.  Several houses had been reduced to smoldering ruins, and an occasional, mangled body lay in a yard or on the sidewalk.

East 24th Street would have been dangerous to traverse had it not been for the numerous vehicles haphazardly abandoned in both lanes.  The street had been selected as their route precisely due to the large number of discarded vehicles it contained.  It would be impossible for the squad to be overtaken by a fast-moving truck full of banditos along the street.

The bodies of his fellow countrymen particularly disturbed Barrett.  The men and women that died in this place died for one reason, they could not afford to flee.  As he passed the occasional body, he felt a strong sense of guilt.  Perhaps there was more that they should have done.  More evacuations, maybe forced evacuations?  He did not know the answer.  Ultimately, he knew that people were personally responsible for themselves and their families, but no one could have imagined the horrors of the tempest that had rolled across south Texas.  Like a dust-bowl sand storm, it had engulfed everything and everyone in its path.

The squad moved with deft precision through the shadows of the vacant ward.  Occasional bursts of gunfire and barking dogs interrupted the foreboding silence that surrounded them.

The sheer number of stray dogs was heartbreaking.  They were not wild dogs, but collared, starving, house pets that sensed the men’s advances through their territory.  Some would growl for a moment before shrinking away.  Others would simply rush blindly up to the men, seeking the affection they no longer received from the owners that had turned them loose before retreating northward.