Indian Territory

by Cliff Deane

  “Damn, I hope Susan can spot them, I mean, come on, how far away can they be, it’s been only twelve Hours since the last recon of Corpus. I mean, hell, they can’t be more than fifty or sixty miles ahead of us. Can they?”

  Gus just shrugged his shoulders and said, “That does sound reasonable with our current intel. Still, the one thing we do know about Steiner is that he is one brilliant bastard.”

  It took two Hours for the search element to arrive, and clear the area known to have been inhabited by the Black Knights just Hours ago.

  Mad Max 6: Team 1 6: Commo Check. Over.”

  Team 1 6: Max 1: Hear you 5 by 5. Over.”

  “Roger, Max 1. We are in the Hanger of the mercs, and there is no one here. We found seven LAV IIIs with completely empty fuel tanks. My guess is that they departed some time ago and left several vehicles idling to show Infra-Red heat signatures. Over.”

  “Roger, 1 6: wait. Out.”

  Mad Max 1 was the Sergeant Major. He had immediately ordered a halt to the convoy so Levi and Gus could get up to the Commo Truck.

  When the two leaders of the Republic of America arrived, the Sergeant Major gave them the rundown on the Corpus Hanger. Levi then picked up the mike and called Team 1-6, the Officer in charge of the investigation.

  “Team 1-6: Max 6: Can you estimate how long they have been gone? Over.”

  “Max 6: Team 1-6: I can only say that the engines are cold and completely out of fuel. As a guess, I would say that the mercs could have been gone for, at least, a couple of days. Over.”

  “Roger, 1 6: Wrap it up and get back here asap. Out.”

  Turning to Gus, Levi said, “He slicked us again, Gus, you were right, he certainly is one brilliant bastard; creative, too, and now he’s on the loose. Son of a bitch, he’s either in Mexico or west on I-10, which is my guess. Damn it, Gus, he’s already running flat out across the I-10 corridor.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Gus, “we have to admit that he is one slippery genius. It’s just a danged shame he’s not working for us. Okay, I’d better get a new search organized out to max range. I’ll send one pair of Snakes south to Mexico, and another west along I-10; sound good?”

  “Yeah, there’s nothing else to do, I reckon. Find Steiner, Gus, just find him. Once he gets beyond San Antone, he’ll make good time; hell, I-10 will have little in the way of stalled vehicles. He’ll be able to travel as fast as us,” said a frustrated General Levins.

  “Gus, I really thought we had him all bottled up and now we find he’s days ahead of us, again. Still, if our Snakes can catchup with him while he’s vulnerable now that he’s running across the flat desert of Texas and New Mexico we’ve got him. Damn that slippery bastard!”

  Levi looked directly into the eyes of his Executive Officer and said, “Gus, I cannot deny that I hate that man, but we have to admit that he is a tactical wizard, and a freakin’ genius cut in the mold of Field Marshall Erwin Rommel, the Desert Fox.

  He’s beaten us and to tell the truth, I’m not even in his league.”

  “Yes sir,” replied Gus, “with his experience I expect he is in a league, but so was Rommel and in the end, the Desert Fox was defeated. Yes, sir, I agree, but we’ll get him. It’s just a matter of time.

  Levi, let’s see if we can pick it up just a bit. We probably should have done this some time ago; let’s try to find workable low-boy trailers and load up the LAVs on them. If we can get some semi’s working, we’ll make better time.”

  I-10 Corridor

  10 May 03

  Black Knights

  I-10 West

  The Knights were now making over one-hundred miles per day. The only thing that was now slowing them down was the continuing lack of maintenance support. The low-boys had been idle for some time and the tires were not in good shape from just sitting in the same spot for nearly three years. His team had picked up quite a few spares, but at the current rate of tire loss, they would soon run out of those backup tires. Steiner was forced to slow down his convoy to try to extend the range of the old tires. It made him crazy to realize that the convoy was not meeting his expectations. The trucks, themselves, were also susceptible to breaking down and having no qualified mechanics merely exacerbated the problem. The rate of vehicle loss was now nearly two per day.

  “Karl,” said Steiner to his Sergeant Major, dispatch crews to make a run to Fort Bliss in search of truck replacements. Make sure they are ready when we arrive; nothing must further slow us down. This is one race we simply cannot afford to lose.”

  “Yes, of course, sir,” said Captain Werner. “I shall see to it immediately, and within ten minutes, two trucks loaded with the crews from the displaced LAVs began racing to Fort Bliss in search of replacement vehicles.

  The landmine emplacements had gone well, and both Colonel Steiner and his Sergeant Major were both comforted and confident that the mines had most likely already caused the pursuing force to lose personnel and vehicles. Just as importantly, it would force the enemy to slow down as they must now be much more cautious. This would allow the Knights to gain even more ground on their tormentors, forcing them to resupply at Bliss.

  Yes, things are going very well, asked Steiner, so, why am I still worried?”

  His Sergeant Major gave no response as he too was worried.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Which way did they go?

  10 May 03

  ROA FTOC

  While awaiting Colonel Susan Levins return, Levi, Gus, and Bradley were deciding their next move.

  “Sir,” said Sergeant Major Bradley Cobb, “I just cannot believe that the mercs went into Mexico. The roads are not good, and any surviving Drug Cartels will be very well armed. I am absolutely convinced that that Austrian bastard is headed due west on 10.”

  Both Gus and Levi agreed with the Sergeant Major, and Gus added, “Sir, if they did go into Mexico, I think we should turn around and head home. There will be many more survivors in Mexico than the US because of a general lack of modern technology, and standard of living. Right now, Mexico has to be an absolute slaughterhouse, and the Cartels will be carving out their own little countries. Personally, I’d prefer to stay out of that viper’s nest.”

  “Yes, yes, I agree completely, but we must press on to Fort Bliss because I believe Bradley is correct; they are headed straight west.”

  Air patrols were dispatched daily out to one-hundred and fifty miles to search for the mercs, but they could not yet be found.

  Over the past six months the 1st Armored Brigade had begun training another batch of new pilots, of course, the bad winter weather had limited their training to ground school and they had been unable to take to the air until the first of April. Now, in May, the new trainees were able to take on the Gunner’s role for the Marine Super Cobras, and in time, would achieve the status of pilot.

  The plan was to grow the Air power of the Brigade by obtaining new aircraft at Corpus Christi which was a major helicopter repair and training station. Colonel Levins, Commanding the Air Arm was mildly concerned about the transition from the Marine Super Cobra, which is a twin-engine aircraft, to the single-engine Army Cobra should there be none of the Marine versions at the Corpus Christi Naval Air Station. Her concerns centered with both the flight characteristics and the differences in weapons systems.

  Once the Station was deemed clear, Colonel S. Levins landed at the Naval Air Station and upon inspection found that Steiner’s Black Knights had destroyed every helicopter in the Corpus Facility. There would be no replacement Cobras from Corpus. When reporting back to General Levins she reported that the only upside was that the Knights obviously have no pilots.

  As the Brigade Air Arm grew in size, Colonel Susan Levins was forced to take on the role of flying a desk. Oh, she still got in her flight time to maintain her skills, but for the most part, Susan’s responsibilities made flying normal combat and most recon missions few and far between.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  We must now return to March 29th, the day
of the CME

  to tell the story of THE PEOPLE.

  29 March 00, 3:23 a.m.

  Montezuma’s Castle

  The Rez,

  Taza Geronimo, an Apache Chief, and Medicine Man, while praying in his Sweat Lodge had been granted a vision by the Great Spirit of all things that this night would hold an event that would come from the sky change the world forever. In this vision, he was directed to watch the night sky in the darkest Hours of the early morning of 29 March.

  Earlier in the evening and using his authority through the Tribal Council, both Chief Taza Geronimo and his Grandson, Daniel Two-Dogs gained access to the long ladders used to climb up to an abandoned Cliffside Village which lay some three-hundred feet above Beaver Creek.

  When the Spaniards first arrived in the Prescott Basin, they discovered the ancient ruins of the village built into the cliff face. The site appeared to the Spanish Priests to be exact replicas of those seen in Mexico and built by the Inca. The Spaniards named this site, Montezuma’s Castle. In actuality the ruins are now believed to be long abandoned Hopi dwellings with no connection to the Inca in any way.

  As Taza and Daniel sat on one of the walls, they looked up into the night sky. The deep black backdrop allowed the stars to appear beautifully bright and clear. A myriad of shooting stars flared across the sky in their attempt to crowd out the stars in announcement of the coming fulfillment of Chief Taza Geronimo’s many visions. A slight breeze produced an unsettling pre-dawn chill in the air.

  The old Medicine Man stood five feet-nine inches tall. Though he was in his eighties, his voice was sonorous and demonstrated no sign as to his actual age. He still walked ramrod straight with the gait of a much younger man, yet it was his penetrating dark green eyes that displayed his age. Those eyes of dark olive green clearly showed a very old soul that was driven by his visitations with the Great Spirit. Taza wore his hair long, in the style of his Apache roots, though now it was the gray that dominated his scalp with only scattered strands of the glossy black to match that of his Grandson Daniel. Many people had asked what gave him such youthful strength and stamina. Taza’s answer was always the same, “The Great Spirit is not yet finished with me, so he gives me the strength I must have to do His will.”

  Chief Daniel Two-Dogs sat with his grandfather, confident that his own few visions, sent from the Great Spirit, would prove to be true, reinforcing the validity of his grandfather’s visions. Daniel would be left with no room for doubts about his role in leading The People into a rebirth.

  In the latest Tribal Council, Chief Taza Geronimo, in his capacity as Medicine Man, had spoken of this celestial event and encouraged The People to watch the pre-dawn sky of the early morning Hours of 29 March. He promised a sign that could not be denied and would leave no doubt that it must be obeyed.

  Many, but far from a majority of those living on the Rez, sat outside and watched for the prophesied sign. Most had fallen asleep but were awakened by an incredible glow which began to illuminate the northeastern sky at precisely 2:23 a.m. and lasted for nearly four Hours. There was no sound, only a tremendous and glowing yellow-reddish light that became orange at its core.

  It was at that very instant that the old world ended and kickstarted a new world began with a brutal and painful birth. All electronics that were unshielded and contained a circuit board was burned out in a Nanosecond. The world’s greatest and most advanced civilization ended with millions of explosions worldwide.

  Those who sat watching for Taza Geronimo’s vision, stood and watched in awe as the electric transformers and power line wires exploded and burst into flame. Within seconds those watching the heavens began seeing huge explosions which further burned their way into the sky as the technology of man was abruptly and almost casually snuffed out. At first, these new explosions were a mystery until the ground shook as a huge civilian jetliner crashed on the Rez after the plane lost power and fell from the sky. This same fate befell the entire world as those plane passengers became the first to die along with the death of our modern civilization. Yes, they were the first, but were far from the last.

  Neither Chief Taza, nor Daniel, were asleep. They knew something of great importance was happening, and so, together, the old Chief and his grandson witnessed the dawn of a new age.

  All those who witnessed the event realized that the old Medicine Man had indeed been visited in visions from the Great Spirit. They also knew that his words held iron and as such must be honored and obeyed.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  29 March 00

  The Day

  World Overview

  Big Ben still kept the time in London, as did all timekeeping devices which held no electronics. Solar powered watches and those which must be wound continued to mark time. Only modern timepieces using a circuit board had stopped at twenty-three minutes past the local hour at the time of the event.

  Around the world, the electric grid ground to a halt and finally collapsed as all transformers, large and small failed in a world-wide cascading event. As the transformers exploded from the immeasurable electrical pulse coursing through the network, billions of fires around the globe erupted from ignited gas lines and propane tanks that were in operation. With no Fire Department vehicles operating, these fires raged out of control destroying vast segments of cities and towns around the world.

  Worldwide, the nuclear power generation plants contained hardened electrical circuits and generators. This single saving grace allowed the engineers to safely shut down the nuke plants around the Earth. Had this measure not been added to those facilities, there may have been no human, or animal, survivors.

  All vehicles manufactured after 1978; trucks, buses, planes, and trains all ground to a stop. Around the world, planes fell from the sky by the thousands making those passengers the first casualties of a monstrous Coronal Mass Ejection from our sun that merely passed just under the Earth’s troposphere. These deaths were usher in the screaming and painful birth of a new and frightening era.

  There are only two things known to man that can cause the destruction of our electric grid; an Electro-Magnetic Pulse or EMP, brought on by a thermonuclear device detonated high in the atmosphere, or an EMP produced by a Solar Coronal Mass Ejection (CME).

  Those with pacemakers died quickly as did those being kept alive by any means electrical.

  This massive EMP, however, would prove to be the predicator of the deaths of over three-hundred million Americans within that first year. The primary culprits would arise from the inability to process and transport food around the country. Starvation, disease and non-potable water were the prime contributors to humanity’s demise. The Pale Horse of the Apocalypse would kill seven-billion three-hundred million human beings worldwide within those first twelve months. How can the human mind even begin to process the deaths of seven billion, three hundred million people? How would they even be able to bury the dead? The answer is, of course very simple, they could not…

  These statistics would not be known to The People living in the Southwestern portion of the former United States of America as the population was relatively widespread, and most fled the arid region early on. Those few who survived the trek to “somewhere” said, “There was no food or running water, so we had to leave. If we hadn’t had that classic car, well, we’d be back there, dead along the road.”

  The American military had purchased many trucks and cars that because of budget constraints were not sufficiently shielded against the effects of an EMP. Still, it was not equipment malfunction that caused the dismantling of the military forces, no, it was the lack of food. With the loss of the thousands of tons of food needed each day to feed the troops, disbanding of the military occurred on 6 April, only one week after “The Day.”

  The government, having no military with which to initiate Martial Law disappeared into prepared underground facilities to ride out the disaster. Their plan was to resurface after one year and attempt to pick up the pieces.

  A new, womb of darkness, a
nd near total silence befell the world; breaking both the noise of civilization’s machines, as well as the societal restraints that bound the demons, and evildoers among us. Anarchy would be the new law of the land.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Chief Daniel Two-Dogs

  Indian Reservation (Rez)

  Camp Verde, AZ

  Chief Daniel Two-Dogs had grown to be a just and natural leader. He also happened to be a direct descendant of Geronimo, the prominent Warrior Leader and Medicine Man from the Bedonkohe band of the Chiricahua Apache. On this night, Daniel, accompanied by his Grandfather, Taza Geronimo, climbed the steep rock walls up to the U.S. National Monument named Montezuma’s Castle and watched as the pre-dawn light of the sun began to banish the darkness over the glorious Verde River Valley of the Central Highlands of Arizona.

  In his own visions, Daniel knew that the time to fulfill his destiny to return the heart and soul of his people was finally at hand. His thoughts drifted to his Grandfather, Taza Geronimo, a Medicine Man steeped in Apache tradition, and the great-grandson of the warrior Geronimo. Following the killing of Osama bin Laden, Taza once spoke before the U.S. Congress. He was able to convince the Congress to demand the military change the name of the mission to assassinate Osama bin Laden from Operation Geronimo to Operation Neptune Spear.

  Now, at thirty-five years of age, Daniel stood a solid six feet, two inches tall, which is very tall for an Apache. He carried his one-hundred and ninety pounds on a frame of wide shoulders and a narrow waist. He proudly wore his long, shiny black hair in the traditional style of his Chiricahua Apache heritage. Daniel Two-Dogs walked with pride for his people and culture. He had become a successful and respected horse and cattle rancher along the banks of the Verde River in Arizona’s Central Highlands. Because of the upbringing and influence of his Grandfather, Harlan Geronimo, Daniel had also become a dedicated Prepper who maintained close relations with other local White Prepper Groups.