The Caliphate Invasion

by Michael Beals

  Dore ignored Kat’s pleading eyes and shook the man’s hand. “What you see is what we have. Look, we’ll do what we can to help, but only if it’s along the way. We’re heading north to Baghdad. How many ISIS fighters are out that way?”

  The Iraqi police lieutenant shook his bloodless face so hard it seemed he’d tip right over. “You’ll never make it north. At least not on your own. First, this little group you gunned down was nothing. Just a scouting party. ISIS, or Daesh as we call them, have hundreds of fighters encircling my town. Perhaps as many as a thousand. They’ve been crawling all over the place ever since the American warplanes disappeared. Second, they captured the nearest Iraqi army depot yesterday after the local garrison fled. Do not underestimate the serious firepower these Sunni gangs now wield. We’ve even seen them driving American-made tanks. Finally, most of their strength is concentrated to the north. Exactly where you want to go. You’ll be chopped to pieces if you try to push through.”

  Captain Dore’s face twitched. “Son of a… is there a single Iraqi soldier still fighting? America trained half a million of them, but we’ve driven through most of the country and I’ve yet to see one standing their ground!”

  Some patrolman came back and handed the lieutenant a bottle of aspirin. He chewed on a handful like so much popcorn. “What do you expect from the Iraqi army? It’s just a welfare program with guns. Baghdad itself is unscathed, but they won’t risk sending their precious few loyal troops out into the countryside. The central government’s authority ends at the capital’s city limits. Which isn’t new. It’s been like that for years. Now, I know what’s left of the local Peace Companies are digging in at the old palace grounds… may I?” Dore reluctantly handed his folded map over.

  “Around… yeah, here. Ten kilometers or so northeast. That force is the only thing keeping Daesh from pouring into town in large numbers. I know it sounds strange, but the ruins of Babylon are a perfect defensive position. Or, with your help, would make an excellent base to counterattack from. Saddam built an elaborate palace compound there in the old days and then the Americans expanded that into a heavily fortified camp when they were here. That’s the closest thing to a castle you’ll find in the whole country. With the local militia’s manpower and your firepower, I’m sure you could cut a quick hole through the terrorists’ siege lines.”

  Dore scratched his neck. “Siege lines? It’s so damn medieval, but you might have a point. Do you have any sway with these militias? We don’t exactly have time to build trust and rapport.”

  Kat snagged the captain’s arm and jumped between them. “The ‘Peace Companies?’ Isn’t that just another name for the Mahdi Army? Sir, I think the last thing we should be doing right now is climbing into bed with Shiite militias to fight off Sunni militiamen. Getting in the middle of some petty tribal war is a dangerous distraction from our mission! I say we just leave these people some of our extra weapons and get on our merry way. It’s not our fight. If we punch through the ISIS lines with surprise and guns a blazin’, they couldn’t stop us. They’ll never know what hit them.”

  Captain Dore spun her around and forced her to stare at the huddled mass of civilians ringing their powwow. Women wailed and prayed while ageing Imams handed out discarded weapons to the tallest children. Kat gritted her teeth as a twelve-year-old boy hefted an Rocket Propelled Grenade launcher to his shoulder and whispered something encouraging to his mother.

  The kid held the weapon backwards.

  “Do you really believe that, Kat? If we leave, we’re just as guilty of killing these people as the terrorists are.”

  “Damnit, sir! I’m not a monster, but we’ve got bigger fish to fry. Why risk our lives and deplete our ammo fighting these random bad guys when our real enemy is running around blowing up whole cities? I know it’s a brutal decision, but we have to pick our battles!”

  The Iraqi policeman broke his polite silence. “But this battle has chosen you. Allah, or God if you prefer, they’re the same thing, guided you here at the exact moment when we needed help the most. Now, I fought with the current commander of the local Mahdi Army brigade back when he was a junior officer. We spent many long nights shooting it out with your countrymen. I can smooth the way.”

  Both Dore and Kat spun around with blood in their eyes. Kat’s trigger finger twitched all over the place. The local cop just flicked his hand.

  “Yes, yes, I fought on both sides during the American occupation. No big deal. Plenty of my colleagues did the same. What do you Americans call it? ‘Moonlighting.’ Nothing personal, but I have a large family and the police department just doesn’t pay so well. Had to make ends meet somehow. Come now. Don’t act so self-righteous. It’s not like we invited America to take over the country for eight years.”

  He adjusted the pressure dressing on his leg and sat up as straight as he could. “Anyway, that was a long time ago. What’s important is that without support, the palace will fall soon and then there’s nothing to stop Daesh from overrunning the city center. However, if you help us fight them off with these heavy weapons of yours, I can guarantee you safe passage to Baghdad. You’ll have a personal escort to take you to the giant American base at the airport.”

  Dore spent all of two seconds making up his mind. Kat whispered in his ear. “Sir, we’re being used. How do you know he’s not exaggerating the threat to get us to do his fighting for him?”

  The captain just shrugged. Lying was a reflexive and crucial survival skill in a land constantly shuffling power between religious extremists, psychotic dictators and paranoid foreign occupation forces. He hissed at Kat. “Trust aside, we can’t turn our backs on all this suffering or we’re no better than the enemy.”

  Dore stuck out his hand at the Iraqi policeman.

  “All right. Looks like we’re partners then. But I’ll tell you this: we’re gone the first chance we get. Don’t expect us to hang around for long.”

  The Iraqi cop smiled faintly.

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way. So, when are we leaving?”

  A sniper round cracked right between Dore and the policeman. The shell gauged a hole in a five-gallon water jug strapped to the back of the Bradley and soaked them both.

  Dore dragged the wounded cop up the ramp. “About five minutes ago. Everyone, mount up! I’ll brief you on the way!”

  Northwestern Outskirts of Gainesville, Florida

  “It’s empty, just like the others.” Dixon slammed the trunk on the sheriff’s patrol cruiser. Everything of value had been stripped from the three squad cars at the silent checkpoint. The dead officer in the front seat wasn’t spared either. His duty belt, body armor and even boots were missing.

  Dixon put an arm around Rachel. “Are you okay? There’s not a mark on any of them. Looks like the neutron bomb got them. I’m sure it was quick and painless.”

  Rachel gave the cop’s body a resigned huff. She turned away, not that it did any good. Scores of bloated corpses littered the roadside in every direction.

  “Don’t worry about me. The first cadaver you see is a tragedy. The thousandth, just an annoyance. I guess I’m as used to this crap now as anyone can get.” Her voice was steady, but she pressed herself closer to Dixon.

  “What were all these soldiers doing here on foot anyway? They must have had tanks or something. Do you think whoever swept this place took them? How are we supposed to fight a tank with rifles?”

  Dixon ran his eyes over the dozen or so uniformed corpses and gritted his teeth. There wasn’t a single weapon nor scrap of tactical gear amongst them. “That’s not our problem. Remember, we’re not here to fight. We aren’t the police nor raiders. Anyone so much as points a gun at us and we run.”

  Dixon narrowed his eyes as she thumbed the forward assist button on her rifle over and over.

  “Is that clear?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know the drill.”

  Dixon put his hand on her M4. “That’s what I’m afraid of. You loved going to the range just a little too much
. You know how to use this thing better than any of the guys, but you don’t have their fear to temper your actions. Remember, I brought the other men along as a deterrent. We only need to appear intimidating. If you get us in a real firefight, how long do you think they’ll last under fire?”

  Rachel followed his gaze, grinning as the rest of their team came out of a nearby building. The jittery commune members clumped together, shoulder to shoulder, as they raced for the relative cover of their trucks.

  Rand had offered Dixon fifty “volunteers” for his scavenging run, but they only recovered a few weapons from the FEMA raiders. Dixon opted for a six-man party in two pickup trucks and left the rest of the irons with Rand. Six infiltrators seemed like the perfect mix. Small enough of a group that he could micromanage them, but still large enough to scare off any casual marauders.

  Rachel jabbed at the bullet hole in his MOLLE tactical vest. “I thought you trained them up before we left? What, you’re not confident in your own teaching skills?”

  “A few hours drilling on the fundamentals of marksmanship is hardly enough to turn a bunch of pacifists into SEAL Team 6. I’m pretty confident that they won’t accidentally shoot themselves, but let’s not give them a chance to screw up, okay?” Dixon slapped a fake smile on, but Rachel didn’t laugh.

  “If you’re so worried, then why’d you let me tag along?”

  Dixon took a long drag from his CamelBak nipple. “Like I had a choice. I don’t mean to scare you,” she scowled and cut him with her eyes, “if that’s even possible, but you wouldn’t be any safer back at the camp. At least here we have the initiative and the perception of strength. You notice how I picked three of the biggest, toughest looking guys to escort us? I don’t think any of them have been in so much as a pillow fight in their lives, but they look rough and ready from a distance.”

  Neil, sporting his most flamingo-y Hawaiian shirt yet, detached himself from the other group and shuffled over. Rachel prodded Dixon’s ribs. “Sure, that explains why this hardened warrior came with us.”

  “Laugh all you want, but out here, trust is worth more than a hundred guns.” Dixon reached out and snagged Neil’s flapping rifle as he drew close.

  “Come on, man. Hold the damn thing at the low ready, like I taught you. Who knows if we’re being watched?” Dixon flipped his eyes at a sub-division behind them. “Remember: act like an experienced professional soldier and you shouldn’t have to become one the hard way. So, did you find any medical supplies?”

  Neil hefted his weapon and stuck out his chest. The badass effect was less impressive when he opened his high-pitched mouth. “Shit no. The veterinarian’s office was ransacked like everything else. They didn’t take just the drugs, but even every last syringe and roll of gauze.”

  Neil gnawed his toothpick to a nub. It was the best he could do with Dixon’s draconian smoking ban in place.

  “I knew we came late to the party, but this doesn’t seem like random looting. It’s too systematic. Like a horde of locusts picked this place clean. Are you sure everyone was killed by that neutron bomb?”

  Dixon waved his hands at the pile of dead cops, soldiers and civilians around them. “Everyone that was here at the time, yeah, but who knows how many people have wandered into town in the last few days. You’re right about the pillaging though. It’s so damn focused and thorough. Look at everywhere we’ve been. No swarm of desperate refugees came through here. Someone is methodically building an inventory. Especially a stockpile of war supplies.”

  Dixon’s team had only been in the outskirts of the city for an hour, but they’d already cleared a gun shop, two sporting goods stores and a highway patrol station. It didn’t take long to search any of them, since everything was picked dry. They hadn’t found so much as a pocketknife during their travels.

  Neil pulled out an old street map. “Well, there’s still the shopping mall about a mile south. Do you think… I mean, do we have to try it?” Neil let out his breath and nodded eagerly when Dixon shook his head.

  “Not if it’s anything like that Wal-Mart we passed.” The bustling shopping mecca on the edge of town was supposed to have been their first stop of the day. They weren’t the only ones with such a plan though. Some group of survivors had turned the Supercenter into a fortress… while a much larger group laid siege to it. Dixon had given the store a wide berth.

  Rachel tapped her foot. “Guys, we can’t just stand around here in the open. Unless you want to push deeper into town, what do you say we search these suburbs house by house?”

  Dixon circled a finger over his head. “Hell no. I guarantee you there are some families bunkered down inside those McMansions, and they won’t listen to a damn thing we have to say. I know I wouldn’t. We’ll face a shotgun behind every door. All for what? Just for the hope of maybe finding a pistol tucked under someone’s bed or half a bottle of Tylenol in the bathroom? No, it’s not worth the risk.”

  Rachel followed them to the trucks. “So what now?”

  Dixon drummed his fingers against his rifle’s magazine. “It’s been a long drive. Let’s go get some gas.”

  ***

  “This one looks promising.”

  Heiko slowed down and began to turn into the giant 10-pump, corporate gas station, but Dixon waved his hand forward. “Don’t drive right in. Circle around and stop in the park behind it. We’ll walk over there.”

  “Why complicate things? If we have to get out of here quick, do you really want to run across a playground?”

  “Don’t you remember the other stores?” Heiko looked away. The first gas station they passed fired a warning shot the second he hit the blinker. At least people were alive there. The last two stations were smoldering ruins.

  Dixon waited in his truck, scanning the store and surrounding roads for a good two minutes. “Ok, let’s do this. Neil, Heiko, come with me. Rachel, you and the rest of the guys stay here and cover us. Hon, could you help them find their sectors of fire?”

  He didn’t insult the other commune members by publicly putting a fifteen year old in charge of them. It wasn’t necessary. When Rachel flipped on her mother’s calculator voice, the men obeyed without question.

  While Rachel sorted out their covering force, Heiko nudged the truck slowly across the park. Dixon stopped them a good twenty feet away from the gas station’s underground storage tanks. “That’s good enough here. Let’s see if there’s anything left.”

  Dixon hopped out and ran a jumper cable from the pickup’s undercarriage to an exposed grounding rod near the station’s main pumps. He flicked his hand at the field of manhole covers. They should have been locked, but each had been pried open and left slightly ajar.

  “Looks like someone beat us to it. There should be something left though. This is a huge station. It would’ve taken several tanker trucks to empty this place. Neil, see if any of the tank valves are still closed. Heiko, would you give me a hand with this stuff?”

  Heiko reached between the empty drums in the truck bed and uncoiled a three-inch thick, thirty-foot long rubber tube. The hose ran through a PVC T-joint connected to a small electrical pump. One end of the hose was clamped around a stainless steel elbow nozzle with a shut-off valve, but the other end was just exposed rubber, without any coupling.

  “Are you sure this is going to work? This is the most ghetto-rigged contraption I’ve ever seen.”

  Dixon double-checked the grounding on the extra car battery that powered the fuel pump. He pulled out a roll of electrical tape and slathered every exposed lead before flashing Heiko a grin.

  “Are you volunteering to stay here and pump?”

  The big Norwegian chuckled. “Don’t try to weasel out now. This was your idea. I’ll help you set up, but then I’m getting the hell out of here. Someone’s got to collect your ashes.”

  Neil whistled from twenty feet away. He squatted over the first open manhole cover at the fuel tanks and pumped his fist. “We’re in luck! There’s another lock directly on the tank’s va
lve. I don’t think anyone got the reservoir open.”

  Dixon slid up to Neil and peered over his knee. “Damn, I was afraid of this. At worst, I was expecting just a chain and padlock that we could cut off. An electronic keypad wrapped around the lid? That’s a whole different ballgame.”

  “Ball game, yeah, that’s right. I guess I’m up to bat. Let’s hurry up and get out of here.”

  Neil ran to the truck and came back with a sledgehammer. Dixon jumped up and slapped his own head.

  “Whoa! Love your motivation, but do you really want to start sparking metal together? We’re talking about a few thousand gallons of fuel and condensed vapor down there. Might as well open the tank with a hand grenade!”

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  Dixon cursed. “Marginally better. First things first, we’ll only take diesel. That’s not as combustible with the temperature under 100 degrees. It should also have the highest trade value. Plenty of abandoned cars are lying around, waiting to be siphoned, but most of the neighbors’ generators and tractors need diesel.”

  Neil skipped ahead to the next open manhole. “This one’s marked diesel, but it’s got the same friggin’ electronic lock.”

  “All right. We need to find something that’s hard, sharp and plastic. Something like…” he frantically scanned around them for a magic tool, “one of those hard plastic chairs by the store entrance.”

  Heiko shook his head and walked back to the pickup. “I think I get where you’re going with this, but a chair is too weak. One second.”

  Dixon nodded as he reached into the truck bed and pulled out an extra length of CVC plastic pipe and a hacksaw. “Right on. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  It only took the big guy a few quick strokes to carve the round end of the pipe into a crude, but sharp spear. Heiko strolled up a second later and handed Dixon the rod. Dixon lined the pointy end against the tiny LED screen, the weakest point on the lock, and licked his lips. “Thanks, but we only need two people for this. No point in risking all three of us…”