Invasion: California

by Vaughn Heppner

  Paul drew a deep breath through his nostrils and he realized that all he held was the wrapper. Shoot, he’d already finished the Snickers bar. He glanced sidelong at the kids. One of them clicked coins one on top of the other. If they hadn’t been there, he would have licked the wrapper. But he couldn’t do that if he was the big mojo killer.

  From outside came a loud boom.

  Paul grabbed his assault rifle and bolted upright. The kids dove for their weapons and Romo already ran for the holes in the hotel wall. Chinese IFVs had made similar noises this morning.

  Romo crouched by a hole. Then he shouted back. “They brought tanks with them this time, two of them.”

  “Right,” Paul said. He picked up a Chinese RPG. They had collected them this morning from the fallen enemy.

  In seconds, Paul crouched by his own hole. An enemy IFV had made it close with its 30mm auto-cannons. The tracked carrier had held six infantrymen inside its “womb.” The IFVs were nimble vehicles and heavily armed with four of those auto-cannons and two missile tubes. The Chinese liked to roar at their lines under heavy missile or artillery cover, pouring everything they had at the American positions. Then the back of the IFV would clang down and out would charge six armored Chinese infantry.

  This time it was different. Two tanks clanked down the street. A host of antennae sprouted from each light tank. It told Paul these two were drones, remote-controlled vehicles. Each Marauder was smaller than an SUV and possessed a non-turreted 153mm gun.

  “Hold your fire,” Paul told the others. “Romo, grab an RPG and come with me.”

  “How long to you want us to wait?” asked the twenty-one year old Militia sergeant. He had pimples on his forehead and stood near the two with the .50 caliber.

  “Give us a minute,” Paul said. “Then fire at the tanks so the sensors know the vehicles are taking fire. Then scram, but be sure to take the machine gun with you. We’re going to need it.”

  “Go where?”

  “Deeper in the hotel,” Paul said. “When you hear the explosions outside, you’d better come running fast. Set up the machine gun in a new position and get ready.”

  The pimple-faced sergeant nodded and rapped out orders to the other three.

  Paul hefted two RPGs, one under each arm. Romo did the same thing. They trotted to the stairs and climbed, going to the third floor. Paul was panting by the time he approached a shattered window.

  “They will have spotted these,” Romo said.

  “Yeah,” Paul said. He set down one RPG and primed the other. Taking big gulps of air, he tried to steady himself. They would have to do this quickly: spot and fire.

  Downstairs, the .50 caliber started up. Metallic hammering sounds told Paul the gunner was hitting one of the light tanks at least.

  “Not too long,” Paul said under his breath. As he finished speaking, the machine gun fire quit. These were good kids, the survivors of days of brutal, endless fighting. They had learned.

  Paul glanced at Romo. The lean assassin stood poised beside his window. He was ready. He wanted to kill the enemy, even if it was only drone tanks.

  The 153s boomed below, and the crash told Paul the shells had smashed into the hotel. Enemy machine gun fire started. He hoped the kids had retreated far enough.

  Paul didn’t say anything to Romo. The man knew what to do. Inside Paul’s chest, the fear built, but so did the excitement. One, two, three, he told himself. At three, Paul stepped up to his window. The light tanks were below, perfect targets, showing him their lightly armored tops. Paul brought the RPG into line, using the iron sights, and he fired.

  The backblast whooshed fire into the hotel room, starting a blaze on the rear wall. Romo fired his rocket launcher. Paul watched for a split second. His shaped-charge grenade slammed against the top of the Marauder, exploding. Paul felt the concussion, and he saw auto-cannons swiveling up at him. Romo’s RPG round hammered the same vehicle and the auto-cannons froze.

  “One down,” Paul said. “Let’s go.” He picked up the remaining RPG from the rug and raced past flickering flames on the wall. This fire had bit into the wall and it looked like it might last. That was okay. Soon, the heat would hide them from enemy thermal sights. A blazing hotel, the Chinese would figure the Americans had evacuated it.

  Paul grinned savagely thinking about it. Then he was on the stairs again. He climbed, his thighs burning as he raced for the roof. Outside, Chinese machine gun fire riddled something here, likely the windows they’d just used. The Chinese were so predictable you could have set your cell phone by them. Well, if he’d had a working cell phone.

  With a heaving chest, Paul crashed against a door and strode onto the roof, heading for the edge. Romo was right behind him.

  “Ready?” Paul wheezed.

  “Go,” Romo said.

  They both stepped up to the edge of the roof. Six stories down, the light tank used its main cannon for what had to be the fourth time. Flame belched, the light tank shuddered and smoke billowed upward from the cannon. Machine gun fire from Chinese infantry nests hammered the hotel’s windows. Soon, the IFVs would appear.

  Paul aimed almost straight down and fired. The rocket-propelled grenade flew atop the tank, exploding. Once again, Romo did likewise. Both soldiers twisted and dove backward. Even as they did, armor-piercing bullets slammed against the roof, shattering brick and eating into the tar-covered top.

  From on their chests, Paul and Romo grinned at each other.

  “That will slow them down some,” Paul said.

  “Si.”

  “We’d better get back and help the kids.”

  “They are near their breaking point,” Romo said. “Soon, we must leave them.”

  “Those four?” Paul asked, as he climbed to his feet.

  “They are brave for such young men, but they are terrified and we are running out of ammo.”

  Paul cocked his head. Yeah, that was a problem. They needed more ammo. The Chinese, they just keep on coming, dying as they expended munitions at a prodigious rate and pushing the Americans into a smaller and smaller area.

  “I’m not leaving the Lieutenant in the lurch,” Paul said.

  “Si, I understand. But he will break soon, too. It is inevitable.”

  “I don’t agree.”

  Romo stared at him, and soon he shrugged. “Let us help the young ones.”

  “Yeah,” Paul said, heading for the exit.

  WASHINGTON, D.C.

  In the subdued light, Anna Chen concentrated on her split-pea soup in order to avoid seeing the people staring at her. She was in Upscale, one of the most expensive restaurants in D.C. Across the red and white checkered cloth of the small table from her was Dr. Levin, Director of the CIA.

  The old man forked more of his salad, popping an oily olive and some lettuce into his mouth. He smiled at her, nodding.

  “Do you like the soup?” he asked.

  “Oh yes, it’s delicious, sir.”

  “Please, my dear, don’t do that here. We’re on a half-hour vacation, remember?”

  She hunched her shoulders a little more, letting the spoon click against the bowl.

  “I didn’t mean that as a reprimand,” he said.

  “I know,” she said, softly.

  “What is it, my dear?”

  She hesitated before leaning toward him. “The people, do you notice them staring at me.”

  Dr. Levin blinked in wonderment and glanced around. Several people looked down. One big Navy officer glared at him. The officer had a bloated face with red cheeks.

  “Why do you suppose he’s angry with me?” Levin asked her.

  “Because you’re with me,” Anna said.

  “Ah,” he said, “because you’re of Chinese descent?”

  “Half of me is, yes.”

  Levin sighed, seemed as if he was going to say something profound and then he forked another bite of salad.

  Anna thought she understood. Dr. Levin didn’t share their feelings, although he understood. But
what could he do about it here? The answer was clear. Nothing. Therefore, it was best to let the topic drop. A stubborn core in her didn’t quite feel like letting it drop.

  “Man is tribal,” Anna pronounced.

  “An unfortunate truth,” Dr. Levin said.

  Anna shrugged. “Perhaps it isn’t as bad as we think.”

  “Would you elaborate, please?”

  She smiled. She liked the Director. “Could you imagine if the entire planet lived under one political system?”

  “Indeed. Most people yearn for just that.”

  “No sir, I’m afraid you’re wrong.”

  He nodded as the waiter indicated the empty salad plate. The waiter took the plate.

  “I’m done, too,” Anna said.

  The waiter took her bowl, balancing it on his arm and then pouring more coffee into the Director’s cup.

  After the waiter left, the Director said, “What I meant to say is that most political theorists wish for a one-world government.”

  “True, but I think it would be a catastrophe.”

  “Because of racism?” the Director asked.

  “No sir, because it most certainly would eliminate the few precious freedoms certain people in various countries enjoy.”

  He added cream, stirred with a small silver spoon, laid the spoon aside and sipped his coffee. “Ah, this is perfect. It’s why I come to Upscale. Now about this theory of yours…”

  “It’s simple, really. With many competing governments, there is always somewhere to flee if one system becomes too repressive. Power corrupts. A one-world government would place that much greater power into the hands of the person or the clique ruling it. There would be no competing system to oppose him or the clique.”

  “What about world peace? Isn’t that something worth striving for?”

  Anna shook her head. “It is an illusion, sir. Most militaries are used to kill their own people, to preserve those in power, and to repress those who are out of power. If there was a one-world government, I have no doubt those in power would use the military or the police to repress those they disliked. As I said earlier, man is tribal. If it isn’t racism, it’s competing ideas. For example, the abortionists and the pro-life people have divided into competing camps and cannot abide each other. Why do sports teams create such fierce loyalty? The reason is easy—men like to divide themselves by tribes. The Kansas City Chiefs fan hates the Oakland Raiders fan, who turns it around and hates the Chiefs fan right back.”

  “Hmm,” Levin said. “I wish the Chinese used their military to kill their own people. That would be better them their coming to America to kill us.”

  “Believe me, they have killed their own in the past, and still do. But consider what China has done. The political theorists always seem to think that bigger governments or organizations are better. I disagree completely, by the way. Smaller countries are often better for the average citizen. China is now Greater China. That in turn has become the Pan Asian Alliance. But what if China was still divided into many small competing states? They would not have the unity to attack us as they’re doing. Big countries field big armies. And eventually, those in power like to use their big armies to go conquering. Therefore, my belief is this: with greater unity there is a greater ability to harm.”

  “And to do good,” Levin said. “America is big. If we weren’t, the Chinese could sweep us aside.”

  “That’s the problem. When one group gets big, the other side feels forced to do the same thing. In the end, it’s seldom good for the regular people and their freedom.”

  Levin sipped his coffee. “I think I understand. You feel the racial hostility, the tribalism, as you like to put it. I suppose I would find such a situation embittering, too.”

  Anna shook her head. Couldn’t he see what she was trying to say? “I’m a student of the human condition, sir. I try to study what is there, instead of what we would like to think is there. No one benefits from too much authority over others. Eventually, power works its insidious spell over the heart of the one who wields it.”

  “I hope you’re not referring to the President,” Levin said frostily.

  Anna noticed his tone. Before she could correct him concerning her point, the waiter brought their meals. Dr. Levin had lobster. Anna had an eight-ounce piece of prime rib. The waiter set a small cup of horseradish beside her. Prime rib wasn’t the same without it.

  Levin bowed his head, praying silently before picking up his knife.

  “I was speaking theoretically,” Anna told him. “I support the President, but he is only human. I would not want him to possess unlimited power, no.”

  Levin nodded, popping a piece of lobster into his mouth. He closed his eyes as he chewed. After he swallowed, he said, “Please don’t say such things to anyone else. I’ve come to appreciate your insights during the meetings. If you become too outspoken about the President having too much power, you’ll find yourself in a Detention Center. And yes, I’ve begun noticing the stares directed toward you. If these people here are like this, I can only imagine what they’ll be like in a Detention Center.”

  Thinking about that almost stole Anna’s appetite. She so seldom ate out anymore that she refused to let this dampen her enjoyment. The Director’s bodyguards waited in the lobby. At the snap of the old man’s fingers, they would come running with guns drawn. With such protection, Anna had accepted his invitation to dine at Upscale. She never went out to eat alone these days, and she didn’t trust the latest, commercial bodyguard services—not since what had happened the last time they had sent someone.

  “Anna, the reason I’ve asked you to eat with me is that I have something I would like to share with you.”

  She looked up, startled and worried.

  Levin glanced both ways before he said quietly, “I’m afraid the military has run out of ideas on how to save the situation in California.”

  His words surprised her.

  “There’s an invasion armada out there in the Pacific, waiting for something,” Levin said. “The Chinese are annihilating Army Group SoCal and there doesn’t seem to be anything General Alan can do about it.”

  “We are entraining reinforcements from other fronts,” Anna said. “We’ve also shipped trainloads of munitions to LA to make sure they don’t run out.”

  “It will all be too little, too late. General Alan knows that.”

  “Then why is he doing it?”

  “If you’re fighting a stronger person who is trying to kill you, does that mean you simply give up and let them do that?”

  “I wouldn’t think so,” Anna said.

  “There’s your answer. That’s what we’re doing. We’re fighting.”

  “The Behemoths have changed the equation,” she said.

  “Yes, for the moment that’s true. But you’ve seen the data. Some of the enemy tanks that would have poured through to Palm Springs have now turned back on the eastern part of the embattled Army Group. I think whoever is making the decisions over there has decided to accelerate the destruction of our trapped soldiers. It’s an inferno.”

  “I agreed with that,” Anna said.

  “Once the Army Group is gone, the Chinese will swamp the rest of the defenders in LA. There won’t be enough reinforcements to save the state. We’ll have lost, and that rather quickly, too.”

  “I suppose I do read the situation the same way, sir.”

  “Well that’s just won’t do!” Levin said, striking the table with a fist.

  The dining area grew quiet. Anna could feel the stares even more than before.

  Levin waited and took several more bites of lobster. He must not have prepared it well enough because Anna heard his teeth chewing and crushing shell. After people had stopped staring, Levin told her, “There’s a way out of this impasse.”

  “Oh?”

  Levin’s eyes seemed to shine. “I’m going to suggest to the President that he use nuclear weapons to rebalance the situation.”

  A hollow feeling work
ed through Anna’s chest.

  “You don’t agree with that?” Levin asked.

  Anna didn’t know what to say and barely managed to shake her head no.

  “I see,” Levin said. “Then you won’t support me when the time comes?”

  “Sir… Are you certain there’s no other option? I mean, nuclear weapons will be a disaster. They may have helped us a little in Alaska, but we paid a terrible price using them.”

  “Give me another solution and I’ll listen. The problem is that I don’t see any other way to save the situation.”

  Anna bowed her head in thought. This was a challenge, wasn’t it? Was there another way to save the situation? There had to be. Nuclear weapons might bring the end of the civilized world. It was a terrible risk. There had to be something she could do, some fact or other that would give them a chance. Who knew the Chinese better than she did? No one. Therefore, it was her responsibility to find the answer that might save the country.

  She looked up at Levin. “Do you mean that, sir?”

  “Eh?” he asked. He was cutting his lobster.

  “Will you back me if I find you another way?”

  Levin set down his fork and knife, leaning back, studying her. “I said I will listen. What do you hope to find?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “The prospect of nuclear war terrifies you, I can see.”

  “Sir, I think it should terrify everyone.”

  “Hmm,” he said. Picking up his fork and knife, he went back to cutting his meal. As he forked a succulent piece of lobster, he eyed Anna again. “A nuclear explosive is just a bigger weapon.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it, sir. Another might be as a civilization ending event.”

  “You think that one nuclear weapon will lead to another?”

  “Yes I do. I also believe that radiation poisoning is a terrible way for the world to die.”

  Levin gave her a chilling smile. Who was this little old man?

  “Then find another way, my dear, because I don’t plan on letting anyone defeat my country. I’d rather destroy it than let Jian Hong’s hordes have his way with it. I’d rather annihilate his armies with nuclear fire than surrender. We cannot let the Pan Asian Alliance smash through California with such ease. It will be the beginning of the end if that happens and I will not stand by and watch that occur. I’m certain I can convince the President of that.”