by C. G. Cooper
Cal and Daniel looked around in amazement. The place was huge. It took them a full five minutes of brisk walking to get to the main event area. They didn’t run into anyone else. The convention would kick off a little after 5pm with doors opening at 3pm. It looked like everything was ready and waiting for the impending visitors.
They finally reached the staging area where the Marines were waiting. Cal let them get ready as he and Daniel first examined the trailers and then walked to the entryway leading into the arena. The exhibition space was about the size of a football field. The Silent Drill Team would have plenty of room to maneuver, even with the huge trailer. Cal could make out the short row of chairs on the opposite end of the field where the President would be sitting. He hadn’t arrived yet.
Capt. Andrews walked over. “They said you guys can grab a seat on this side of the arena.” He pointed right over his head where seating was arranged stadium style.
“Sounds good. What time does the show start?” Cal asked.
“We load into the trailer at quarter ‘til seven. They close us in and wheel us into the arena five minutes later. Why don’t you guys head up to your seats and I’ll see you after the show?”
Andy headed back to his Marines who were carefully being inspected by their squad leaders. They wouldn’t be caught dead with even a speck of lint on their uniforms, even if it was practice.
Cal and Daniel took the set of stairs up to the landing where two folding chairs were clearly marked with “Jarhead #1” and “Jarhead #2” written on pieces of white paper.
“Those Secret Service guys sure are funny,” Cal noted wryly.
From their seats, they could observe the entire field. It would give them a perfect view. He pointed to the highest point at the opposite end of the arena. They could see the two Zimmers and Trent filing into their row. Cal waved but couldn’t catch Trent’s eye.
The only thing not in view was the staging area. Little did they know that that was where they should have been looking.
+++
6:27
Trent took the lead as he escorted the Senator and Congressman to their seats. Senator Zimmer had elected to keep his security detail outside. He’d reasoned that the Secret Service would already have the area sufficiently canvassed and secured.
Out of habit, MSgt Trent glanced all around the huge space. He saw Cal and Daniel at the far end of the hall. He waved and Cal motioned back.
Continuing his scan, he looked at the new VIP boxes. He didn’t see anyone prepping. Strange. Just as he moved his gaze past the last window, he caught a flicker of movement in the skybox closest to the President. Probably just a cleaning crew, he thought as the figure disappeared again. The Senator was right; the Secret Service should have this place buttoned up tight.
Trent finished his inspection and looked back at the center of the arena. He looked forward to seeing Marines in dress blues again.
+++
6:29am
“Get back, you fool,” whispered Nakamura harshly to his son. They were comfortably situated in recliners at the back of the skybox closest to the President.
“He didn’t see me, Father,” complained Ishi. He was getting tired of his father’s paranoia. He’d be glad when this day was over.
“That black man looked back this way…”
“But he’s staring at the ground floor again, Father. Let’s just sit back and watch the show.”
Kazuo Nakamura was too close to accomplishing his long-planned mission to relax. His contacts within the ownership of the convention center had paid off. Rather than having a lot of crew prepping the morning of the event, they’d pushed hard to get all the prep work done the day before the event. Nakamura’s compatriot who controlled the event coordinator, Janet Riley, had ‘requested’ that she get the crew out by midnight in order for them to “get rest before the big event.” It was a simple request and had seemed reasonable. Riley had complied willingly.
The lack of workers had allowed the Japanese imperialists to stage their people earlier that morning. The absence of building personnel would also mean fewer witnesses.
Better that the American people hear the news on this morning’s telecast, thought Kazuo Nakamura. His people would be gone before the authorities had any inkling of the event. Yes, he had planned it perfectly.
+++
6:40am
“All right, ladies, everyone in the trailer,” barked the First Sergeant. They methodically walked up the ramp and into the expanded trailer. There was interior lighting, but it was still like walking into a coffin.
Capt. Andrews and the 1stSgt were the last to enter. Andy threw the small Asian crewmember outside the door a thumbs-up and held down the control until the ramp was closed. They were now safely ensconced in the large trailer…or so they thought.
+++
6:43am
The crewman looked around to make sure no one else was around. He was alone. Quickly he typed into his cell phone: LOAD.
Ten seconds later, a platoon of seemingly identical Marines entered the staging area from a back entrance. They wore the same uniforms and carried the same M-1 Garand rifles. The only difference was the slightly increased weight of four of the weapons due to the live ammunition inside.
They marched quickly into the backup trailer just as the loud music started booming in the arena. As the ramp door closed, a man in a Marine Captain’s uniform turned to the crewmember and snapped a quick salute. The crewmember returned the salute and pulled out a small remote control. He flipped the safety switch and pressed the red button. His duties accomplished, he slipped out a rear exit and drove to the private airfield outside of Las Vegas.
+++
6:45am
Capt. Andrews was giving the Marines last minute instructions when the booming of the convention theme song shook the trailer. “All right, Marines. That music means we have one minute. Right about now, the President is having a seat in the arena. I know some of you guys would love to give the President a hug, but please resist the temptation.”
The Marines laughed with their commander as they fixed their bayonets. When the trailer sides flipped down, they’d be arrayed facing out, bayonets at the ready, as if about to ward off a horde of enemies.
“Let’s all get into position,” the First Sergeant barked over the loud music.
Andy shifted the pistol in his waistband one last time. The damn thing kept digging into his back. Maybe I was being a little too paranoid, he thought.
Just as he moved to the center position, the trailers lights flickered. Andy looked up and squinted. Was that steam coming out of the ceiling?
+++
6:48am
“Whew, we just made it,” remarked the President.
“Sorry about that, Mr. President. It’s Howie’s first time in Vegas,” the lead Secret Service agent explained jokingly. Howard Grant was the President’s driver for the day and a Secret Service veteran of almost twenty years. Contrary to his boss’s comment, Grant knew the streets of Las Vegas intimately.
It was actually the President’s daughters that had kept them from leaving on-time. They’d insisted on an extended breakfast with Dad. Never one to deny his beautiful girls, the President had relented until his detail leader had discretely tapped on his watch.
The President sat down as the music rose to its first crescendo.
Chapter 39
Las Vegas, Nevada
6:50am, September 19th
The oversized trailer moved out of the staging area. It paused at the entryway to the arena and waited for the correct point in the music.
+++
“Good. They got it to the door. I’d love to see the look on the President’s face,” Nakamura noted to his son.
Ishi didn’t bother to respond. He kept his eyes glued to the arena. Father and son anxiously awaited the show.
+++
Half of his Marines were already lying unconscious on the floor.
As Andy had noted the gaseous substan
ce coming out of the trailer’s ceiling, he somehow had the wherewithal to take a deep breath. Without opening his mouth, he’d silently tried to gesture to his Marines. His First Sergeant was the first to comprehend and took in a deep breath before the fumes hit.
By the time the mist had moved down past the Marines’ necks, some had already collapsed. Andy scrambled to get back to the ramp and engage the opening mechanism. When he got there, the Marine Captain could barely hear his Marines hitting the floor as the powerful gas assaulted their nervous systems.
In the back of his mind, he somehow recognized that keeping his breath in seemed to help. He’d always read that the more powerful chemical weapons entered the body through the skin and not through the airway. Andy had no way of knowing if that were true or not. It was like those videos the government used to show about how to react when a nuclear explosion occurs. Was it real or just made to make it seem that you “could” survive such an event? Was this gas agent the same way?
It had been close to a minute since he’d first inhaled. He pounded on the ramp release button. Nothing happened. He tried again and again then pounded on the ramp itself. Nothing. They were trapped. Almost all of his Marines were on the ground. Through the mist he could just make out his First Sergeant stumbling his way over the platoon of unconscious Marines.
+++
“Looks like they had to go with the backup trailer,” Cal noted.
“Huh. Good thing they brought it,” Daniel added.
A second later, a cannon in the music boomed loudly and the trailer flaps folded to the ground. The platoon was arrayed in a large oval, some kneeling in the front row, the second row standing; all were arrayed outward with bayonets fixed and presented toward the crowd.
“Wow! That’s pretty sweet,” yelled Daniel over the music.
Cal agreed. He’d never seen the Silent Drill Team doing anything like this before.
As they watched, the platoon of twenty-four reformed into a column and marched down onto the field.
+++
The First Sergeant had finally collapsed to the floor after banging on the ramp with Capt. Andrews. No one was coming to help them. Just as he started to lose his breath, he remembered the pistol in his waistband.
Andy quickly aimed toward the ramp. Where to shoot? The mist was clearing so at least he could see where he was aiming. Then he remembered the two hydraulic pumps at the bottom of the ramp that powered the door. Maybe he could shoot them out and push the ramp open. He only had ten rounds in each magazine so he had to be as accurate as possible. Luckily, the trailer sides were made of aluminum instead of steel. At least he’d have a chance. He fired five shots into the bottom of the left side of the door then moved to the right. His lungs ached as he realized he’d depleted almost a minute and a half of air. His limit was fast approaching.
+++
Cal and Daniel watched as the Silent Drill team did its opening tricks in the middle of the field. All of a sudden, he noticed something. “Are those guys all white?” he yelled to Daniel.
Briggs squinted. “Yeah, where are all the black guys? And…wait…are they all Asian?”
Cal’s eyes widened as he thought he heard something. He looked at Daniel who suddenly stood up. “Gunshot!” he yelled.
Without another word, the companions ran for the stairs.
+++
The President was enjoying the performance. He loved the Silent Drill Marines. But there was something he couldn’t put his finger on. They seemed sharp, but not as precise as he’d seen them perform before. And I thought they had some African-American Marines, the President thought privately.
+++
Andy had one more magazine but was out of breath. He shoved the ramp with all his remaining strength. It started creeping open.
+++
Cal turned the last corner and sprinted towards the trailer. He could see a hand sticking out of the side of the door. Daniel joined him as they ran to the trailer and started pulling the ramp down. Simultaneously, they noticed the vapor and quickly held their breaths. Soon the door was open enough that they could pull Capt. Andrews out. He hungrily gasped in clean air as they dragged him farther from the trailer.
Andy pointed back at the chamber. “There’s an…emergency release…lever under the…left side of…the trailer that…unfolds the sides.”
Cal and Daniel didn’t hesitate as they ran back to the trailer to save the other Marines. Holding their breath once again, the two men pulled with all their might on the release lever. They felt a hard click and the trailer flaps started folding down slowly. By the time the flaps lowered, Andy had rejoined his friends.
“We need to get out there and help the President!” Cal yelled over the din. Andy had no idea what Stokes was talking about. He had no way to know about the Marines’ imposters. Cal and Daniel bent down and extracted similar objects from their boot heals. Andy couldn’t make out what they had in their hands. He followed closely behind Cal and Daniel as they sprinted to the arena.
+++
MSgt Trent watched the show silently. Although he’d been impressed by the Silent Drill Team’s appearance, the rest of the show seemed a little lacking. He’d have to give Capt. Andrews a hard time about that.
+++
The replica Silent Drill Team moved toward the President’s position in four precise columns. They’d marched in step until they were twenty yards from the President. On silent cue, the platoon halted and four squad leaders from the rear marched out and to the front of the formation. Instead of doing the standard weapons inspection routine with two pairs, the planners had elected to go with four pairs. The squad leaders commenced the silent inspection, hurling weapons back and forth; making a show of inspecting the barrel and chamber of each gun.
Then, at the same moment, the four squad leaders grabbed the rifles. After doing a precise about-face they kneeled and aimed their weapons at the President. The Secret Service agents barely had time to react as the rounds came downrange.
+++
As the four squad leaders knelt on the ground, Trent sprang out of his chair. He vaulted whole rows as he extracted his pistol from his holster.
He was so intent on the unfolding carnage that he didn’t even notice the two politicians following from behind.
+++
Brandon caught it a split second after Trent. Without thinking, he followed the Marine, albeit less gracefully. Zimmer was surprised to see his father following, too.
+++
Out of the corner of his eye, Nakamura saw Trent jump out of his seat. “Let’s go, Son,” he ordered.
“What? Out there?”
“Yes! Now get up!”
Kazuo Nakamura pulled the Nambu pistol out of his coat pocket and walked toward the arena. There were very few people who could ever claim the killing of an American President. Nakamura wanted to be one of them.
+++
Cal, Daniel, and Andy sprinted toward the opposite end of the arena. They could just make out the President and his security team falling to the ground. Shit, shit, shit, Cal thought as he ran for all he was worth. He had no idea what they’d do once they got there, especially without weapons, but they’d die trying. The anthem music continued to pound overhead as the three Marines closed the gap. There were twenty-four fake Marines between them and their goal.
+++
Trent fired as he leaped the eight feet down to the arena floor. It wasn’t a particularly well-aimed volley, but he centered his front sight post on the mass of men in dress blues. Remarkably, his rounds hit two of the squad leaders and the rest of the bullets flew into the platoon. With twelve shots, he’d incapacitated six men. There were still eighteen men for Trent and his friends to take care of. Trent hit the ground floor and ducked for cover. He quickly reloaded and focused his attention back on the platoon.
Where the hell were the rest of the Secret Service agents?
+++
As they neared the platoon, several of the imposters fell to the ground, cl
utching wounds. What the hell? Cal thought. He ignored his own question and said a silent thanks that the platoon hadn’t turned around yet. They were all still oriented toward the President.
He gripped two small composite blades he and Daniel had extracted from their boots. It was a little gift from Neil before they’d left. Patel knew the Marines wouldn’t want to go in naked. The small weapons wouldn’t do much against ranged weapons, but hand-to-hand they would come in handy.
The three Marines closed the final few feet with only four blades, a pistol with eight rounds, and a pissed off attitude. Three against twenty-four, Cal thought, What else is new?
He screamed as he pulled the first man back by the head and slit his throat.
+++
After a silent prayer, Daniel followed Cal into the fray. Where Cal was ferocious, Daniel was more methodical as he quickly cut a swath through the crowd. By the time they’d gotten to the middle of the group, the Japanese imposters were refocusing on the pair of maniacal Marines in their midst.
+++
Possibly because of the after effects of the gas or the constricting uniform, Andy couldn’t keep up with Cal and Daniel. An experienced triathlete and marathoner, Andy gritted his teeth and tried to move faster. By the time he’d reached the bloody scene, his two companions had already dispatched a good portion of the phonies. The men on the outside of the formation turned inward and leveled their M-1’s at the marauding Marines.
