The Road Home

by Robert Boren

  “I don’t follow,” Wallis said.

  “The enemy knows we can see them,” Hendrix said. “They also know that we have a very good citizenry who will fight them to the death with little or no regard for the Islamophobia propaganda they tried to use in other parts of the country earlier today. Our people will kill them wholesale and get a pat on the back for it by everybody in this state.”

  “You’re saying that no Islamist in their right mind will want to move into the state?” Wallis asked.

  “Yeah, that’s basically what I’m saying,” Hendrix said. “The only places where that won’t hold true would be places where their situation is worse than it would be here, and off the top of my head, I can’t think of anywhere like that.”

  “Hell, he’s got a good point,” Ramsey said. “Louisiana would be a toss-up, but in general the enemy is safer in Mexico than they are here. That cuts out a lot of our problem right there.”

  “You’re suggesting that we concentrate on killing the enemy inside our borders,” Nelson said. “I agree. It is possible we’ll have enemy fighters fleeing General Hogan’s forces from the north, but they’re more likely to rush down through New Mexico and Arizona to the Mexican border.”

  Wallis laughed. “And we’ve just been spending time and resources blocking those roadways. That will trap the Islamists who are currently fighting Hogan’s forces.”

  “It will, but I think we did the right thing,” Hendrix said. “What the individual Islamist fighters want and what their leadership wants might not be the same. The enemy leadership would still love to send a massive number of fighters up that corridor to take on General Hogan. What else are they gonna do? If they just slink off into Mexico, we’re gonna get them eventually, and their war of conquest will be forever lost.”

  “What’s happening in Dallas?” Nelson asked.

  “Just a sec,” Maria said, moving her view over to that region. “They aren’t moving towards the site of the first battle anymore, but I see lots of them moving towards their base, also three other bases. They’re trying to take advantage of safety in numbers, since they can’t hide.”

  “Exactly what we’ve been seeing everyplace else,” Wallis said. “This will be difficult. We won’t win every battle, because we won’t be able to get enough of our forces to each place quick enough. Dallas is a good example. I see what Maria is talking about. The group we expected to attack us near Irving is building up in downtown Dallas. I’ll bet there’s skirmishes already starting, but they’re still moving, still snowballing. There’s another huge group by Mesquite, and another in Plano. Something big going on to the north, too, in McKinney.”

  “Dallas is the only large city where the enemy isn’t leaving,” Maria said. “Hardly any icons left in San Antonio, none in Austin, and very few in Houston at this point.”

  “We must keep an eye on them all,” Hendrix said.

  “I’m noticing that enemy fighters are leaving the gulf coast areas,” Maria said. “See this?” She moved her mouse cursor around, showing the stream of enemy fighters leaving that area.

  “What does that mean?” Ramsey asked.

  Nelson sat silently, looking at the coastal region. “Move over to the east.”

  Maria nodded, moving the view to Louisiana and Mississippi.

  “Son of a bitch,” Hendrix said, looking at the lines of enemy icons heading north. “Look, they’re even fleeing the Florida panhandle. What’s going on?”

  Nelson looked at it, brow furrowed, not looking away as he talked. “I need to know if that EU Navy convoy headed towards the gulf carries nuclear weapons.”

  Chapter 17 – Hospital Move

  Kitten was in the field hospital, assisting the doctors and nurses as they tended the wounded. A line of ambulances was forming on Quebec and Woodall Streets, and EMTs were loading patients as quickly as they could.

  “Do we have hospital space for all of them?” Kitten asked.

  An EMT looked at her as he and others lifted a wounded old man onto the gurney. “Filling up fast. This wasn’t the only battle. You going to the new location?”

  “What new location?”

  “The enemy isn’t coming back here,” he said. “They’re massing downtown. I think you guys are leaving for that area any minute now. Good luck.” He and the others rolled the gurney off to an ambulance, another team taking their place to pick up the next person.

  “Could you go with us to the new location?” asked a young woman doctor, turning from her patient for a moment.

  “Yes, thanks, but I didn’t even know we were leaving,” Kitten said. “The last thing I heard was that the enemy was on their way here to attack.”

  “Old news,” the woman said, walking away from the patient as a team of EMTs approached to take him. “The apps went wide a few hours ago, and now the enemy is rushing to get together for protection. They’re trying to lock down the court and detention facilities at Commerce and Riverfront. Killed everybody around there, from what I heard.”

  “Oh, geez,” Kitten said, pulling her phone out. She loaded the app. “There’s a lot of them there, and more streaming in from the north and east.”

  “Let’s see,” the doctor said. “I’m Dr. Cynthia Keaton, by the way. Kitten, is it? Very good job. We’re lucky to have you here.” She looked at Kitten’s phone for a moment.

  “I’m not doing anything more than the others,” she said, “but I’ll go help you, of course. My dad is part of the fighting group.”

  “Is he okay so far?”

  “I haven’t seen him for a couple hours, but the battle has been over for longer than that,” Kitten said.

  “Okay. There are trucks coming any minute. We’ll load up the hospital and move it to the parking lot at Houston and Ross.”

  “That’s right by Dealey Plaza,” Kitten said. “I’d better text my dad.”

  “I’m right here, honey,” Alex said, rushing over with Doug. “You heard we’re leaving. Are you staying with the hospital?”

  “Yes, I’ve been asked to,” she said. “You’re staying in this battle?”

  “Damn straight,” Alex said. “Know where you’re going?”

  “Houston and Ross. I’ll help with the move.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Hope that’s far enough away. When we hit the enemy at the detention facility, they’re liable to spread that way.”

  “We’ll have protection,” Dr. Keaton said. “You’re Kitten’s father? You should be proud. She’s saved lives today.”

  “I’m very proud of her,” Alex said. “Thanks.”

  “Hey, man, we got to go,” Doug said. “Let’s get our cars.”

  “Be right there,” Alex said. He hugged Kitten and kissed her forehead. “Be careful, honey.”

  “You too, dad,” she said. “I’m proud of you too, by the way.”

  He smiled, then left with Doug. The trucks arrived as the last of the ambulances took off. Kitten helped box up supplies and fold up portable beds, pushing them towards the sidewalk on Woodall street, a large group of men there to lift and load.

  “Which way are we going?” Kitten asked one of the men.

  “Irving to Riverfront to Continental, then south on Houston,” the man said. “Won’t take long.”

  She looked at her app. “There’s enemy fighters along part of that route.”

  “There’s enemy fighters everywhere,” the man said, “but they’re moving towards that detention center and the court buildings in a hurry. They’ll probably be away from our route by the time we get there.”

  “I hope so,” she said, turning to grab more supplies and rush them over to the open tailgate of the second semi-truck.

  The trucks were loaded in fifteen minutes, their engines starting. Dr. Keaton walked over to Kitten. “We’ve got a bus coming to take us to the new location.”

  “Great, thanks,” Kitten said. They walked to the main group, standing on the corner of Quebec and Woodall, watching the semis pull away.

  “
There’s the bus,” somebody said. It drove up Quebec and turned left, getting close to the right side of the road, it’s door opening in front. The medical team climbed aboard.

  “There’s more of us than I realized,” Kitten said, picking a place to sit half way back on the driver’s side. Dr. Keaton sat next to her.

  “One thing about Texas. People pull together in a crisis here. Every time.”

  “Makes me feel good,” Kitten said. The bus pulled away, struggling to make the right turn on the Irving service road, then veering left onto Irving Boulevard. It sped up.

  “Geez, look at all the places on fire,” Dr. Keaton said.

  “What’s going on up north?” Kitten asked, pointing there. She took her phone out. “Big clump of bad guys up there. Bigger than the one in downtown.”

  “We might be seeing the last gasp of the enemy,” Dr. Keaton said. “Now that we can track them, they’re on the run.”

  “We can only hope. There’s no traffic. I’m surprised. Figured there’d be a lot of citizens rushing to where the enemy fighters are hiding.”

  “Most of the force is already on the way there, cruising down the Trinity River park,” Dr. Keaton said. “You came that way, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” Kitten said.

  “Almost to Inwood Road already. We’re making good time.”

  “Look at I-35E. Why’s it so busy all of a sudden? Where are all those folks going?”

  Dr. Keaton looked at it. “Maybe we’ve got a lot of help coming for this attack. Or maybe there’s a roadblock to keep people away from the battle zone, and we’re getting a backup as a result.”

  “Nothing on the news outlets,” Kitten said, moving her fingers on the screen.

  “I thought they shut all of those news channels after the apps were released.”

  “Not the local ones,” Kitten said. “Nothing…wait. Crap.”

  “What?”

  “Evacuation orders,” she read off the screen. “They’re saying the dam at Lewisville Lake might fail.”

  “Fail? Really? There hasn’t been rain lately.”

  “Enemy operation,” Kitten said. “Glad we’re far away.”

  Dr. Keaton was quiet for moment, thinking. Then she pulled her phone out. “Call your dad. We need to spread the word for them to get out of the Trinity river bed park.”

  “Why? Lewisville Lake is miles away,” Kitten said as Dr. Keaton hit a contact.

  “The Trinity River comes out of that lake,” she said as she listened to the rings. “Nature will take its course. The water will race down that riverbed. Remember the floods in 2015? They threatened downtown Dallas. This will be worse. Lewisville Lake is huge.”

  Kitten turned white as a sheet and hit her dad’s contact in a panic. She listened to it ring, going to voicemail. “Dad, get out of the riverbed. The dam at Lewisville Lake is about to break.”

  She put down her phone and looked at Dr. Keaton, who had just finished letting her contact know.

  “You got through to somebody?” Kitten asked.

  “Yeah,” she said. “He’s going to spread the word. You didn’t get your dad?”

  “No, left him a message. He’s driving by himself in the truck, and it’s bouncy and noisy driving on the grass down there.”

  “The word will get around,” Dr. Keaton said. “Hope they can stop this. A lot of people are gonna get killed if that dam breaks. It’ll be worse further north than here, but it’ll still be dangerous for downtown.”

  “We just got on Riverfront. Won’t be long now.”

  There was the crack of gunfire. Both women snapped to, looking in all directions.

  “Nothing hit us,” Kitten said.

  “That’s not close to us. The enemy might be shooting at our guys in the riverbed.”

  “Dammit,” Kitten said. She tried her dad again. Still no answer.

  “We’re almost to Continental,” Dr. Keaton said. The gunfire ramped up, and the bus slowed down.

  “What’s the matter?” Kitten asked, looking up front. “Shit, is that one of our semis on its side up there?”

  Dr. Keaton looked forward, then got into the aisle and ran up to look. Suddenly the front windshield exploded, the driver’s head spewing blood as a sniper’s bullet ripped into it, Dr. Keaton hit by a second bullet as the bus slowly rolled into the middle of the intersection, bullets continuing to hit the passenger side of the bus, two people in the front hit in the neck and upper chest.

  “No!” Kitten shouted.

  “Where’s the emergency exits?” somebody shouted, silenced by a bullet to the neck.

  Kitten looked around, seeing that the emergency exit was behind her two rows. She got off her seat, crawling on the floor towards the rear as others panicked, trying to run to the front of the bus. The windows on the passenger side blew out one by one.

  “That’s the emergency exit,” Kitten shouted at the old woman sitting next to it, too shocked to move. “Get out of the way, dammit!” The woman just stared at her, and then her chest was hit, her body twisting in pain before her heart stopped. Kitten grabbed her legs and pulled as hard as she could as bullets hit the back of the seat she was sitting in only seconds before. She crawled over and reached the red emergency lever, pulling it hard, the side wall popping open. She rushed out and hit the ground, sheltered behind the bus as others crawled out, some getting hit on the way, others making it.

  “Thank you,” said a young woman who crawled up next to her. “Snipers on top of the detention center building.”

  “We need to make a run for it,” a young man said, crawling next to them. “See that bail bonds place over there? We’ll have some cover from the bus at least part of the way, but then we’re gonna have to haul ass and get behind the building.”

  Gunfire increased. Citizens in the river bed were firing at the top of the building, and somebody tried to fire a grenade up there, which blew up several floors below the roof, scaring the snipers enough to get down.

  “C’mon, they’re getting shot at by our guys now,” the young man said. “Let’s go while we have the chance.”

  Kitten and the others ran forward in a crouch, rifle bullets hitting the road around them as they ran, two of their group dropping dead on the street. Kitten made it to safety with two other women and the young man.

  “Anybody hit?” Kitten asked.

  Everybody nodded their head no, too shook up to speak.

  “What are we gonna do?” asked one of the women, on the verge of breaking down.

  “Pull yourself together,” Kitten said. “We’re not dead yet, and they can’t hit us here.”

  “They’ll come down and get us,” the woman said, her eyes darting around in near panic.

  “There’s about sixty-thousand citizens on the ground between us and them,” the young man said. “All they can do is snipe at us from that rooftop, and our guys will flood that building soon enough, or just blow the damn place up.”

  “Our guys need to get out of that riverbed,” Kitten said. “There’s a warning that the dam at Lewisville Lake is gonna fail. That’s why there was all that traffic on I-35E.”

  “Oh, that’s what it was,” the young man said. He was about six feet tall, lanky, with blonde hair and a scraggly beard.

  Kitten pulled her phone out. She hit her dad’s contact again, and he answered right away.

  “Kitten, where are you?”

  “Our bus got hit by the snipers on the roof of that big building up there,” she said. “You need to get out of the riverbed.”

  “Why?” he asked.

  “Something’s wrong at the Lewisville Lake dam. They’re evacuating people. From what I’ve heard, if the dam goes, the water is gonna run right down the Trinity River.”

  “Oh,” he said. “That wouldn’t be good. We’ll have a hard time getting out. The levies are high here, and that nest of snipers on top of the detention facility have us pinned down.”

  “Go backwards and climb out,” Kitten said, “and pass
the word.”

  “Okay,” he said. “Where are you?”

  “Hiding behind a bail bond place at Continental and Riverfront Road. Most of the doctors and nurses got killed in that bus. The snipers are still firing at it.”

  “Stay out of sight,” he said. “I’m gonna reply to the broadcast text we got before we left. That ought to get the news about the dam to everybody.”

  “Okay, dad, be safe.”

  The call ended, and Kitten looked around. “Where else can we go?”

  “We’re kinda stuck,” the young man said. “I’m Greg, by the way.”

  “Kitten.” She looked at the other two women. The hysterical one was just staring into space now, leaned up against the white brick wall of the bail bonds office, her black face covered with sweat. The other woman looked up, trying to force a smile.

  “I’m Trish,” she said, brushing back her long black hair, her ears covered in earrings along the edges, her skin pale, dirt smudges on her cheeks. “I don’t know what her name is. She’s pretty out of it. We’ll probably have to leave her here.”

  “No, don’t leave me,” the black woman said quickly. She was in her mid-thirties, with delicate features and brown eyes that showed stark terror.

  “What’s your name?” Kitten asked softly.

  “I’m Vanessa. Don’t leave me here alone. Please.”

  “We won’t,” Kitten said, touching her hand in reassurance.

  “What about that door?” Greg asked, nodding towards a grey metal door on the back of the building. He walked to it and knocked. No answer. Then he tried the doorknob. It opened, and he stuck his head inside. “Hello?” There was silence. “I’m going in,” he said.

  “Stay away from the front windows,” Kitten called out.

  He nodded and got inside, walking through a storage room into a work area. It had a couple of cheap-looking cubicles covered with stacks of papers, and a coffee machine sitting on a metal tray. Nobody was there. He called out again. “Anybody here?”

  Kitten came in, followed by Vanessa and Trish.

  “Good, you got her moving,” Greg said, smiling at Vanessa. She smiled back, then he turned away quickly. “Stay here.” He poked his head into the next room, which was an office with a big desk and several chairs facing it, a bookshelf behind it holding handsome legal books. “Nobody in the office either.” He stepped out and walked down the short hallway to the waiting room in front, where the windows were. There was a large overweight man lying face down in front of a broken window, blood under him, and a small blonde woman with a perm hairstyle laying partially on top of him, blood all over the arm and waist of her pantsuit. She groaned.