He wanted to keep the lie as simple as possible in case he had to repeat it.
“My God. How many died?”
“They were still counting when we left. Now you have to make some decisions. You need to take these cuffs off me and we need to sit down and really discuss what actions need to be taken. You do not want to be calling yourself the Supreme Commander when they come strolling up the road. I doubt that it will sit very well with the President.
“He’s alive?”
“Of course.”
“Christ,” Donnelley whispered.
“Quite a pickle you've gotten yourself into but I think I have a way around it.”
“You do? What?”
“Take these damn cuffs off me. They are cutting off the circulation and they hurt like hell,” Webber said.
Donnelley looked at him for several seconds.
“No funny stuff. I mean it. If you try anything I’ll shoot you myself,” he said taking a 1911 .45 from the desk drawer.
“The General's pistol,” Webber said.
“Mine, now.”
“Right. Do you want my help or not?”
“Just a second,” he said and got up and walked to the door. He opened it and looked out at the four men standing there with their hands bound.
“Where are you from?” Donnelley asked one of the men.
“Washington DC sir.”
“The Pentagon,” the other man said.
“Shit. And you are here to make an assessment?”
“Sir?”
“Commander,” Webber said.
“What?” Donnelley said, turning to look at the Colonel.
“You can’t ask them that. They have vital information for your ears only. Actually, it was for the General but you know what I mean,” Webber said, trying to head anymore questions off.
He looked at Webber for a second and then back at the men.
“You three are really from the Pentagon?”
“Yes sir,” Fargo replied.
Donnelly closed the door and walked to the Colonel.
“What is this plan of yours?” he said holding the gun on the Colonel.
“Cuffs off first. My wrists are killing me.”
“Nothing stupid, I mean it. Any funny stuff and I’ll shoot you,” he said taking out a pocket knife and cutting the plastic strips.
Webber jumped up using his left hand he knocked the gun to the side and struck the Lieutenant under the nose with his fingers curled into the palm of his hand. The savage force drove the bones and cartilage into the Lieutenant’s brain and he was dead before he even hit the floor. He quickly snatched the gun from the Lieutenant’s hand and made sure a round was in the chamber.
No alarms came from the hall so the noise must have not been as loud as it seemed to him. He placed the Lieutenant in the chair and sat down behind the desk. He knew he had only one chance and even it was a slim one. He laid the gun on the desk.
“Sargent Conrad. Come in my office and leave the others outside.”
He didn’t think he sound very much like the Lieutenant but he was hoping the walls muffled his voice enough to fool him for just a few seconds. The door opened and the Sargent stepped into the room.
“Close the door he ordered.”
Hardly looking up, the Sargent quickly closed the door behind him. When he turned around the Colonel was pointing the .45 at him.
“What…?”
“Lay the rifle down. Slowly.”
“Where is the Supre…”
“Stow that crap. This is the Supreme Commander in your life now,” he said waving the gun at him.
“You can’t do this,” the Sargent stuttered.
“Seems I can and seems like I did. The Lieutenant wasn’t all that bright to begin with. I would say Sargent Conrad you are in dog shit up to your eyebrows,” Webber said, smiling.
“But, I mean…”
“I know, life’s a bitch. It’s all over Sargent. You and the others that have formed this little military junta are going to have a hell of a lot of explaining to do. I was just following orders ain’t going to work so you can forget that crap,” the Colonel said.
The Sargent just looked at him wild eyed. He was like a trapped animal and everything was going wrong faster than he could comprehend.
“Call the other guards in and have them leave their weapons outside. Have them bring in Franklin as well,” Webber ordered. He just looked at the Colonel.
“Do it or I’ll drill you right where you stand,” Webber said, raising the gun.
“Willard, Jensen. Bring Lieutenant Franklin in and leave your weapons behind. Hurry up,” he yelled.
The door opened and Franklin was shoved into the room and the two guards followed. They stopped dead in their track when they saw Webber pointing a gun at Conrad.
“What the hell?” Jensen said.
“Boys, this shit is all over. It seems the Lieutenant wasn’t cut out to be the Supreme Commander after all.”
“You killed him?” Willard said wide eyed.
“Deader than a doornail.”
“But he was the head of the new forces.”
“Seems like his legacy lasted a lot shorter than Hitler’s did. About five years shorter. Now, I want you to cut Franklin's cuffs off first then the other men” he said to Conrad.
The Sargent stepped behind Franklin but instead of taking his cuffs off he grabbed the Lieutenant by the head and snapped his neck, killing him instantly. As soon as he released the Lieutenant, Webber shot Conrad, taking off the top part of his head and splattering blood and brains all over the others.
“Anyone else want to do something clever? You boys want to join the Sargent?” Webber said at the top of his voice.
They just stood there, shocked at what had just happened.
“Well?” the Colonel yelled again.
“No sir,” they both said in unison.
“I damn sure wouldn’t mind emptying the clip into the two of you. Now you let the other three men go and if you even breathe wrong you are going to die very slowly,” he said.
They opened the door and within seconds the other three men were rubbing their wrists.
“What the hell is going on around here?” Lieutenant Miller asked.
“It seems that while we were gone, the Lieutenant,” he said, motioning to the body sitting in the chair, “decided to appoint himself the new Commander-in-Chief. I decided he didn’t go through the proper chain of command for such an appointment. I terminated his position.”
“My God. This is crazy,” Lieutenant Robertson said, shaking his head.
“Why did they kill Lieutenant Franklin?” Miller asked.
“I guess he just wanted to be shot. Conrad never was any good anyway.”
“This is just too unreal.”
“Tell me about it. Damn, I feel sorry for Lieutenant Franklin. He was a hell of a good man. I just didn’t see it coming,” Webber said.
“Who would have?” Fargo said.
“This isn’t over yet. We need to find out if everyone was involved or just certain men. If some didn’t join in, where are they being held or were they murdered? We have to find out and fast. Someone is bound to come asking about some damn thing sooner or later. We probably don’t have a lot of time. Fargo and Miller, I am going to ask that you to go out and see what you can find out. This place is big and half the time we have new people in the ranks. Be cool. Don’t just blurt out that you want to know what happened. Just see what you can find out. Robertson and I will have the M-16s. You each grab a sidearm. Don’t use it except as a last resort. We will try and keep your backs covered.”
“Sir. We don’t know squat about this place,” Fargo said.
“I realize that. It’s a shitty deal but we gotta do what we gotta do. Just do the best you can. If it starts to go wrong, get back here to the office. We will be ready for anything that comes up.”
“Sir, we will do it but I can’t say I like it much,” Miller said.
&nbs
p; “Don’t blame you a bit. I don’t like having to have you do this but unless we get some help our asses are fried anyway.”
Fargo and Miller each took the side arms from the guards and walked out into the main corridor. Robertson placed plastic cuffs on the two guards and had them sit cross legged on the floor facing the wall so their knees touched it. It would be virtually impossible to get up suddenly from that position.
Webber was watching the two men thought a crack in the door as they stopped and talked to one of the NORAD men. They talked for a few minutes then they moved off and he lost sight of them. All they could do now was wait.
Time seemed to stand still for Colonel Webber and Lieutenant Robertson.
“What’s taking them so long,” Robertson muttered.
“I don’t envy them any. Not only do they not know their way around but who they should even talk to.”
“I know, I just hate waiting.”
“In the military? You have to be kidding. That’s what we do best. Hurry up and wait,” the Colonel said chuckling.
It would really be funny if it wasn’t so sadly true. Two, then three gunshots rang out. Several more followed in close succession and then it was all quiet again. Webber cracked the door open and could see men running by but he had no idea what was going on. It was pretty obvious that his men had run into some kind of trouble.
He was just about to close the door when Miller came bounding around the corner and fell against the door. Webber opened it and pulled him in just as bullets ripped into the door frame.
“They got Fargo,” he panted holding his shoulder.
“Got you too,” Robertson said, ripping his shirt sleeve off and applying pressure to the wound.
“I think Fargo is dead. He got off a couple of shots but there were too many of them. I took out a couple before I got hit and then I made a run for it.”
“Now what?” Robertson said to the Colonel.
“We make our stand right here.”
“They killed the General. Martin, I think they said.”
“I was afraid of that,” Webber replied.
“Their so called Supreme Commander ordered his execution as an example to those that didn’t go along,” Miller said, grimacing.
“Then they will more than likely kill us too,” Robertson added.
“Yeah. I’m sure they are making their plans right now. We need to get ready.”
“Looks like you’re all going to die Colonel,” one of the guards said.
“That may be but I know for a fact that you damn sure are. Let’s get the desk over against that corner and turn it on its side,” the Colonel ordered.
It took a little time; the desk was made of solid mahogany.
“Place those two against the wall over there,” he ordered.
Once the desk was on its side in the corner opposite the door, he had Robertson and Miller get behind it with him. It was crowded but it gave them some cover. He took one M-16 and Robertson the other.
“Can you shoot?” he asked Miller.
“I can do whatever I have to,” he said.
“Good, Good man. When they come through that door just open fire,” he said.
“You inside the Commander’s Office. Come out with your hands up,” a deep voice yelled.
“I’m the new Supreme Commander and I am ordering you to lay down your arms.”
A long silence followed.
“Come on out. We will talk it over,” the man yelled.
“Don’t think so. You will report to me,” Webber said forcefully.
“Can’t do that. We do not recognize your authority over the National Military Forces.”
“You damn well better or I will have you court martialed,” the Colonel shouted back.
The door flung open and two hand grenades came rolling into the room. The door slammed closed just as quickly. One rolled against one of the guards and the other rolled a few feet away.
“Down, open your mouths,” Webber just had time to say before two tremendous blasts rocked the room.
As soon as they exploded the door burst open and men rushed in. Webber was the first to open fire. The M-16 was on full automatic and the men began dropping like flies. They didn’t know where the shots were coming from. Robertson jumped in and more went down.
By the time Webber had emptied his clip, a stack of bodies lay in the middle of the room and doorway. Suddenly it was deafeningly quiet. Webber didn’t know if it was because they had killed them all or his ears were no longer working.
“I think they are going to regroup,” Robertson said.
“Looks like we took the first round at least,” Webber replied.
“For now.”
“Right.”
Webber looked around the room. Blood, guts, and pieces of bodies were flung everywhere. There was even some on the ceiling. The grenades had obliterated the two guards. Their torsos looked like ground hamburger.
The three of them sat and waited but nothing happened.
Finally an hour later a voice yelled out, “You’re Colonel Webber aren’t you?”
“That’s correct,” he yelled back.
“We want to negotiate a deal with you.”
“Negotiate? Negotiate? What the hell do you have to negotiate with son?”
“Sir. We have talked it over and we are willing to just walk out of here if you will guarantee you will give us an hour start before you send anyone to look for us.”
“What’s the matter? You guys not as tough now that we have kicked some ass? Negotiate. You send a few more in here and I’ll show you how we negotiate with traitors,” Webber yelled back. Another long silence followed.
“Boys, I’m losing my sense of humor. We will come out there and kick your asses up around your shoulders if you don’t lay down your weapons,” Webber finally said.
No reply came. He waited but nothing happened.
“You don’t want me to come for you. I’ll damn sure shoot first and ask questions later,” he screamed at them.
Still nothing. He could just hear the ventilation fans running.
“What the hell are they up to?” Robertson asked.
“Bugging out I hope,” Webber said.
“You think so? You think they would just take off? Hell, they have to know they can’t get too far.”
“Yes they can. I would imagine they disabled all the vehicles and besides, who the hell would I send after them? It was just a bluff anyway. I’m not sure what I would have done with them if they had surrendered.”
“Son of a bitch,” Robertson said.
“I get called that a lot,” Webber replied.
“I didn’t mean you sir,” Robertson said flustered.
“I know son. I know.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
West Virginia
Randy, Eric and Billy bounced along in the Jeep, heading to West Virginia. They had stopped twice before at different mining camps and found one that was abandoned. The other one had fifteen survivors. They were all males. Most had blistered faces and arms.
They related what they knew so far and told them how to get vehicles back in working order. The only really old vehicle they had was a 1951 dump truck. Randy helped them work on it until if finally started. Billy drew a map of where they had come from and approximately how long it would take them. As usual, some of the men were reluctant to leave.
“Look guys, we will have strength in numbers. We can get more accomplished and make life a little more livable if we come together as a group,” Randy said while they were all sitting around after eating.
“Our camp offers a lot more in the way of creature comforts.”
“This was where I was born and this is where I intend to die,” one miner replied.
“That’s all well and good but what is really left for you here? What happens if you get hurt or sick? What happens then?” Randy argued.
“I die. Simple as that.”
“But you might not have to. We have a doctor who c
an look after the sick and hurt. Staying here makes no sense,” Eric added.
In the end eleven decided to go to the McCormick Mine and the rest opted to stay.
“You’re sure? Once they leave you will be stranded here until things take a dramatic change. It could be months or even years before someone comes this way again,” Randy said, trying one more time. They stood fast, determined to stay where they considered home.
“Good luck to you,” Randy said as they got into the Jeep the following day.
It was clear and warm but everyone was bundled up, covering as much of their exposed skin as possible. The Ozone layer was going to be one problem that they simply couldn’t overcome. At least it wouldn’t be solved for some time, and maybe never.
“See you all back at the Mine,” Eric and Billy yelled as they drove off.
“You know, I like where I live just fine but I’ll be damned if I would stay there just because I was born there. I would hightail it to wherever life was best. I just don’t get it,” Eric said as they drove along.
“I agree. I guess people in West Virginia just think differently,” Billy said.
“Then they are damn stupid if you ask me,” Eric replied.
“Not stupid really. They just have different values. I think we are going to find that a lot as we travel. Some people will have different views than we do but that doesn’t make us necessarily right,” Randy added.
“Say what you want but I sure wouldn’t risk my life staying in a place like that.”
“I think they just see life differently. To them it isn’t risking life as much as preserving the only thing they have ever known.”
“What about you? What do you plan to do after we get back?”
“I honestly don’t know,” Randy said.
“I thought you would have it all figured out. You seem like that kind of person.”
“That kind of person?”
“You know. A plan in place for everything. Always looking down the road.”
“Ah. Well, that is true to some extent but this...this is different. I’m lucky if I can see past tomorrow. I do know we have to find a way to get everyone to join in if we are going to rebuild this country.”
THE END - Book I - Of THE EVENT SERIES Page 21
