by Trent Reedy
“Becca, TJ,” I said when we were finished setting up the generators. “Hey, maybe you two should get some rest.”
JoBell put her hand on Becca’s arm. “Yeah, come on. He’s okay for now. You need to look after yourself too.”
Becca shook her off. “I’m staying.”
“Me too,” said TJ. We knew better than to argue, and we headed back to the Brotherhood base.
Crocker kept relaying messages and news. Where the US military wasn’t fighting Guard, Brotherhood, or armed civilians, people were fighting each other. He said there were riots going on in so many cities that the Battle of Boise looked like a spring picnic. A few Texas oil wells were burning like giant blowtorches through the night.
Near dawn, Kemp and Sparrow racked out in the pole barn. Becca finally showed up, having caught a ride with a Brotherhood supply truck passing through. When she joined us in the house kitchen, she looked as fried as I felt. Her sweatshirt and jeans were stained red-brown with blood. Her feet dragged as she walked. Her eyes were red from tears.
“Sweeney?” I asked as she approached us.
She didn’t say anything but wrapped her arms around JoBell, buried her face in JoBell’s shoulder, and cried.
“Is Eric … ?” JoBell asked.
Becca flopped down in a chair near the table. She didn’t even look at us. “Eric’s alive. Mary Beth Reese and her mom are dead. Randy Huff and his whole family.” She sobbed. “Bomb hit his house. Nobody knows why. Lots of people are dead. Someone had enough gas for a pickup and towed down a flatbed trailer. They tried to stop me, but I demanded to help. I wanted to be useful. We moved so many bodies. It took four trips. For now, they’re out on the football field under tarps.”
“TJ?” I asked.
Becca didn’t even look at me. “Went home to check on his family.”
JoBell put her arm around Becca and helped her up, guiding her to the living room couch, where the girls plopped down. I took a spot on the other side of Becca. Cal took to the floor, leaned on JoBell’s legs, and rested his head on her knee. We sat there together, watching the sky begin to lighten up in the east, all of us but Sweeney, and him being gone put a shadow on the whole new day. We listened without really listening to news on the radio.
* * *
“Hey. Hey!” Cal said a while later. “Listen.”
I reached for my rifle before I realized we’d been asleep and it was just Cal.
The Idaho national anthem was playing. “Broadcasting with five hundred thousand watts, AM 1040, the superstation of the triumphant Republic of Idaho. Please stand by for a message from President James Montaine.”
“My fellow citizens of Idaho. I bring you greetings this morning, after our longest and most difficult day and night. We have suffered terrible losses. Our cities and towns have been bombed. Indeed, it is my sad duty to report that the city of Lewiston has been totally destroyed. Thousands of our countrymen and women, civilian and soldier alike, have been killed.
“But I tell you this still with great pride and a renewed hope and profound sense of patriotism for our beloved Idaho. The sacrifice of our honored dead has not been in vain. Idaho lives on. Our enemy, overwhelmed by the new fronts in Texas, Oklahoma, Montana, and Wyoming, and unprepared for our decisive, determined, and precisely timed strike, has withdrawn most of its forces from Idaho. The United States blockade line, a blight across the northern part of our country, has been obliterated. The ring of US forces around Lewiston has been broken. Four US Navy warships are now trapped on the Snake River after the locks they used to travel were destroyed behind them. They will surrender or be sunk by land-based artillery fire or Idaho air assets. Citizens of Idaho who have endured long months of harsh United States occupation are now free.
“What’s more, we have also liberated over half of the territory that used to belong to the state of Washington. The Republic of Idaho has greatly expanded, granting our long-suffering citizens access to new supplies, a greater abundance of food, and the valuable resources of Fairchild Air Force Base and Yakima Training Center.
“Unfortunately, our war is not over. The United States does and will continue to attack our borders and our allies, and so we must remain vigilant in our continuing struggle. But I have been preparing for this day, and even as I deliver this speech to you now, trucks of shelf-stable and fresh food, medical supplies, and other goods are rolling into cities and towns all across the Republic of Idaho from our friends in Montana and Wyoming. After the conclusion of these remarks, please stand by on this frequency for official information about the distribution of these goods.
“My friends, because of your sacrifice and determination, this day will be long remembered in the Republic of Idaho as the day we finally forced the United States from our lands. From this day onward, March twenty-second shall be known as Victory Day, a holiday when we celebrate our great accomplishment — a giant leap toward our shared goal of a peaceful and free republic.
“Today, we celebrate our triumph and look forward to our final and complete victory. Thank you for what you have done for your country. God bless you all. And may God continue to bless the Republic of Idaho.”
Cal swung his cavalry saber high over his head and screamed, “Yeah! Idaho! Long live the Brotherhood!” Similar shouts and whoops came from outside as the news spread through the camp. Sergeant Kemp ran in with Sparrow rubbing her tired eyes, looking dazed but almost smiling behind him.
“Did you hear the news?” Kemp asked.
JoBell pointed at the radio. “Yeah, we heard Montaine’s whole speech.”
“I can’t believe it. We actually did it,” Becca said quietly, staring out the window from where she sat on the couch. “Idaho is free.”
JoBell squeezed her shoulders. “We’re safe.”
Sparrow leaned against the wall. “For now.”
I’d dreamed about this day for months, imagined it a hundred different ways. There would be fireworks and the biggest party I’d ever seen. I would pick JoBell up and swing her around. We’d kiss. Sweeney would maybe shake up a bottle of champagne and spray it all over like in the movies.
I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes. Sweeney wasn’t here for this. Did he even know we’d won?
I had no party left in me. So many people had died. We’d lost so much. And the war wasn’t even really over. JoBell sat down beside me, put her arm around me, and laid her head on my shoulder. All of my team listened to the growing celebration outside in exhausted silence — everyone except Cal, who paced around in excitement.
Crocker came into the house. He looked worn out. “Been on for like … seventy-two hours or something. Someone finally relieved me.” He leaned against the wall and slid down to the floor. “The reports I was getting were all a jumble. Some were wrong. Many were duplicates. We have a marker board and a bunch of maps up in the TOC where we’re trying to sort out what’s going on. But for now the fighting is far away. I think the Fed is regrouping and making a new plan. They’ve taken a lot of losses in Idaho, so they’re pulling back to just a few areas or they’re just keeping some recon units here. A lot of the US military seems to be moving toward Colorado.”
“Makes sense,” Kemp said. “It’s sort of halfway between the two big rebel areas. There are major military bases there. NORAD’s there. They can reestablish control and consolidate their assets without worrying about attacks.”
“Yes!” Cal shook his sword around in the air. “They’re on the run!”
“Cal, can you not?” JoBell had her hands up in front of her. “You’re going to hurt someone.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” Cal sheathed the saber. “But guys, aren’t you pumped for this? We won!”
Finally. As I sat there at alpha base, I could almost feel the relief pass over me like a wave, the way I might feel a warm blanket being pulled up over my body. Suddenly my gun felt heavy on my lap and the new fight was in keeping my eyes open. My part was done. Others could deal with the war now.
�
�• This is a continuing NBC News Special Report. Civil War II. Here’s Byron Westbrook.”
“Good evening. It’s now been thirty-six hours since the so-called Idaho Crisis spilled over into other parts of the country. We have been wall-to-wall with our coverage, bringing you the information as we have it, and exploring the terrible implications of what some of these happenings mean. At this hour, this is where the country stands. As you can see when we zoom in on this map, the self-proclaimed Republic of Idaho has sent rebel forces into eastern Washington State, and although there is still fierce fighting in the western mountains there, everything east of that range appears to be under rebel control.
“This advance has created a panic in western Washington cities like Seattle, Tacoma, and Olympia, although with a massive Army and Air Force facility at Joint Base Lewis-McChord and the United States Navy at the sea ports, the likelihood of rebel forces taking the rest of Washington is extremely low.
“The situation in Texas and Oklahoma is much less certain. If we zoom in on the map, we can see the United States has maintained a strong presence around its military bases, but that’s not necessarily a help in certain cities. In Texas, the United States has firm control of most of the center of the state from Waco down to San Antonio, including the state capitol in Austin, with primary support from Fort Hood in the middle of that zone and US military resources at a number of bases in San Antonio. As a result, the self-proclaimed president of Texas, Rodney Percy, has moved his government to Houston, and rebel forces have a firm grip on that city and Dallas. Fighting is intense across the state, with casualty reports in the thousands and rising. Even the Alamo was mostly destroyed when a Predator drone accidentally bombed that landmark while targeting rebels.
“A look at Oklahoma shows a different, but still disturbing, story. Oklahoma’s most significant military base, Fort Sill, has fallen to the rebels, as have the Air Force and Coast Guard facilities around Oklahoma City.
“All of this is troubling enough, but adding to our concerns is the report that two nuclear warheads are somehow missing from the United States’ arsenal. A spokesperson for the Northwest Coalition of Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming insists that the leadership of those rebel states are cooperating with federal investigators to try to track down the two missing weapons, probably the most significant cooperation the two sides have seen for months.
“White House spokesperson Kelsey Santos says that President Griffith, now back at the White House, wants to avoid nuclear conflict at all costs, but takes the issue of these missing weapons very seriously. Of course, the rest of the world takes a destabilized US nuclear arsenal very seriously as well, and Russia, North Korea, China, India, Pakistan, and the other nuclear powers of the world remain on high alert. •—
—• We’re going to break away from that story to bring you an exclusive WGN report on several dangerous situations developing very quickly. As in dozens of cities across the country tonight, reports are flooding in of looting and violence at various locations all over Chicago. Several structures are burning near South Ashland Avenue between Fifty-Eighth and Seventy-Sixth. The North Lawndale neighborhood around South Homan and West Roosevelt Road is engulfed in violence. Gunshots have been reported at numerous other locations. Police are attempting to combat looting on a scale never before seen. Stolen items include what one might expect — electronics, jewelry, and liquor — but a greater emphasis has been placed on food. Grocery stores, which were already under pressure from trying to enforce government-mandated rationing, are now being overrun all around the city. Hundreds have been injured, dozens have been killed, fighting over milk and bread. WGN is begging all viewers to please stay indoors. Mayor Emmons has been in contact with Governor Qualls, requesting reinforcements from the Illinois National Guard, but most Guard forces have been federalized in support of Operation Unity. •—
About ten days later, I used an impact wrench in my old shop to bolt a .50-cal mount to the turret I’d installed in my new tan armored Humvee ambulance. Everything salvaged from the Fed had to go to the war effort, but I’d convinced Crow that the Beast had been a military vehicle sacrificed for the war, and the Idaho Army owed me something. This ambulance wasn’t high on their list of priorities, and it wasn’t running when I first got it, but I’d fixed the engine, and now it was perfect for what I had in mind.
The thing was like any other Humvee, except it had a huge metal box behind and over the cab. As a noncombat vehicle it had no gun turret, but the Brotherhood lent me tools, and I changed that. I also installed gun ports on both sides and the rear. After an upgrade to the suspension and fuel tanks, I would have a well-armed vehicle that could comfortably, or mostly comfortably, sleep up to five people in back.
It was a lot of work, but I had to have something to do. I visited Sweeney every day. He had regained consciousness and was stable, but he was still in a lot of pain. Dr. Strauss said he’d eventually need surgery, but he would need to be moved to a real hospital for that. I’d tried to contact President Montaine dozens of times to get Sweeney a flight to Boise, but suddenly everybody was so busy that a helicopter couldn’t be spared. The situation made me want to punch something, but since the fighting was mostly over, at least around Freedom Lake, working in the shop was the next best thing. I couldn’t be like Becca, who stayed by Sweeney’s side at the school all the time, helping the doctors and medics when it was time for him to rest.
I put the impact wrench down and enjoyed the quiet for a moment.
“You’re crazy, you know that?”
I yanked my nine mil out of its holster and spun around. It was Sparrow. “Ever hear of challenge and password? I about shot you.” I put my gun away. “Anyway, why do you say I’m crazy?”
“Are you kidding me?” She pointed at the ambulance. “Rebuilding that thing? And acting like this war’s all over?”
“I know the war ain’t over,” I said. “Why do you think I’m fixing this up?”
“You should be looking for a new place to hide. A better dungeon.”
“That’s what this truck is all about.” I patted the top of the ambulance module. “If shit goes bad again, I’m getting me and whoever wants to come with me to safety in this bad boy. One lesson Schmidty taught me, something I wish I’d paid more attention to before the occupation, is that I gotta be prepared for the worst. And I think the worst may still be coming.”
“That why you’ve got three .50-cal machine guns, an M240, and ammo hidden away somewhere?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re so full of shit sometimes, Wright. You better not be hiding that stuff down in the dungeon. Crow’s going to hear about that place, and he just might want to see it himself. If he finds out you’re hoarding captured Fed weapons and ammo, he’ll be pissed.” My cheeks flared hot. I was hiding the weapons down under the shop. Sparrow went on, “You know Montaine will want to use you for publicity now. You’re a living symbol. A propaganda piece to get people riled up like you did the morning of the big fight. You might find it hard to ride off into the sunset on that pale horse. And you’ll be a target. You need to watch out for yourself.”
“I never wanted to be a symbol.”
She shrugged and let the silence fall between us for a while. “I came to say goodbye.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I got a sister up in Sandpoint. Haven’t talked to her in years, but … Well, she’s got an old sofa bed in her basement. I’m done with the guns and with”— she waved her hand around — “all this shit.”
I dropped down into the ambulance and went out the open back hatch. “You’re going AWOL?”
She laughed a little. “I’m sure you can smooth that over with the president. We got the Fed to leave us alone for now. We made sure Alsovar … But I wanted to say goodbye. And … thank you, I guess.”
She held out her hand. I shook it, but somehow we soon hugged each other close. “Take care of yourself,
okay?” She held me back at arm’s length. “Don’t be stupid. I hope this big battle wagon helps you stay out of the fight.” I didn’t say anything. What could I say? She picked up her M4 and a stuffed duffel bag from the ground and slapped me on the shoulder. “Goodbye, Danny.”
“Bye, Shawna.”
She wasn’t kidding. Specialist Shawna Sparrow, one of the toughest soldiers I ever served with, walked off and was gone.
* * *
I worked until suppertime, then I drove Pale Horse to the school to visit Sweeney. Becca met me there. “Sweeney was hurting so bad, I finally convinced Dr. Strauss to spare him a little morphine,” she said. “So he’s out.”
“I’m about to head out to his place,” I said. “You want a ride? Maybe get cleaned up? Have a rest?” When he’d been awake a few days before, Sweeney asked us to stay at his house. Me, Cal, Becca, and Kemp took him up on his offer. TJ and JoBell went back to live with their parents, even though they spent most of their time with us.
Becca yawned and shot a look back at Sweeney. “I should stay here, but I know you guys could use help with dinner.”
When me and Becca got to Sweeney’s house, we both took showers. Then, even though everybody tried to get her to relax, Becca insisted on making us a decent meal. It was another one of her creations made from a mix of MRE components and some canned vegetables, but that was pretty good eating for us these days. We bowed our heads and thanked God for the food and for our lives. We asked Him to help Sweeney and everyone else. Then we dug in.
“We thought you’d be in the shop right through dinner again,” Cal said. “I don’t know why you work so hard on that Humvee anyway. Gas is hard to come by. You should be looking for one of those solar-assist hybrid cars with the super gas mileage.”
