by Robert Boren
“If they’re fast, they might survive,” Callahan said. “You’ll need to dig trenches for all of the detonation spots except the last one behind the K-rails. When these things go off they scare the crap out of everybody who isn’t killed outright, which should give our guys enough time to get through that gate and under cover before the next wave goes off. Know anything about the quality of the men we’re up against?”
“No, not really,” Conrad said. “They might be getting down to the dregs.”
“Or they might finally be putting their best into the fight,” Callahan said.
“Yeah. You think we’ll really get a million citizens recruited?”
“I was gonna ask you that.”
“I wish I knew,” Conrad said. “Been pleasantly surprised so far. We’ve got some good folks.”
“We’ve been arguing with the brass for a while now about joining the fight with Ivan the Butcher.”
“Why wouldn’t they?” Conrad asked. “I get that question every ten minutes.”
Callahan shook his head in disgust. “Job one for the brass is to ensure that no more foreigners get involved, no matter what the damage to the civilian population.”
“Foreigners as in the EU or the UN?”
Callahan laughed. “You guys pretty much kicked the UN out of here. All they have left is stragglers, from what our sources are saying, and the EU stopped funding the UN. It’s unlikely we’ll get more.”
“Good, then we might be out of the woods soon.”
“There’s a lot more Islamists in the pipeline,” Callahan said. “Half of the fighters we’ve seen here came from other parts of the world they’ve infiltrated. Mostly the European countries. Refugees. Their leadership figured that experience would help them here.”
“That’s a big fail,” Conrad said. “This ain’t Europe. Our people are different.”
“You’d think they would know that. Anyway, there’s a fair number of enemy fighters coming from the middle east now. More than we’ve had before. Don’t know if that’s better or worse for us.”
“Why isn’t the Navy targeting their transport ships?”
“Same reason they wouldn’t let us help you guys,” Callahan said. “They’re afraid the EU is going to lead a big foreign intervention.”
“We’ll mop the floor with those Eurotrash punks,” Conrad said.
“Good, keep that attitude. I think you’re right on the money, by the way. I’ve seen what the citizens have done. Here, in Texas, and all over the Southwest. Brings tears to my eyes, and that’s the truth.”
“I was impressed by the people in Oregon,” Conrad said. “Didn’t expect that.”
“I did. That’s where I’m from.”
“Well, they got the first row placed,” Conrad said, watching the men approach the truck for a new load. “What about air support?”
“The Navy brass doesn’t want to bomb Mexico. They’ll hold off until the enemy has crossed the border.”
“That’s not too bright,” Conrad said. “It’ll get a lot of these people killed.”
“Preaching to the choir,” Callahan said.
{9}
Three Roads
S id drove the Jeep towards the break in the fence behind Dodge City, Clem next to him with the surveillance equipment.
“We’ll have to hurry,” Sid said. “It’ll be dark soon.”
“Yeah, I’d like to be out of here before then,” Yvonne said from the back seat, her rifle cradled in her lap. “I feel like our butts are hanging out on the line. There could be snipers on any of those ridges up there.”
“Garrett’s men are still patrolling,” Sid said.
“That’s what they’re saying, but have you seen one out here yet?” Yvonne asked.
“They’re probably on the other side of the ridges,” Sid said.
“Don’t worry,” Clem said. “This won’t take long. There’s the spot. Got here faster than I expected.”
“Helps to know where you can go fast,” Sid said, “and helps not to be worried about looking for tracks.”
“True, that slowed us way down the first time we came,” Yvonne said.
Sid parked the Jeep next to the fence, several feet to the left of the break, and hopped out, Clem following. Yvonne stayed in the back of the Jeep, putting the binoculars to her eyes and scanning the ridges.
“Something doesn’t feel right,” Sid said, slowing as he approached the fence break. “Hold it. Look at the ground there.”
Clem stopped, squinting as he looked. “What?”
“Somebody’s disturbed the dirt,” he whispered.
“Maybe it was Garrett’s patrol.”
“I don’t see any hoof prints. No foot prints either. Looks like that dirt has been brushed.”
“Maybe it was wild life,” Clem said, walking towards the break.
“Stop,” Sid said. “Stay back.” He crept up to the spot, looking down. He could see scrape marks on the dirt, fading due to the wind, but still visible.
“What do you think?” Clem asked.
“I think somebody put a land mine or two here.”
“Dammit. What should we do?”
“Get way back in the Jeep and have Yvonne fire at it with her rifle,” Sid said. “C’mon.”
They trotted back to the Jeep.
“Something’s wrong,” Yvonne said.
“Looks like there’s a mine placed in that break,” he said. “One of you text Garrett and make sure none of his men did it while I move us back.”
“I’m on it,” Clem said, taking out his phone. He sent a text as Sid started the jeep and drove back about sixty yards.
“What are we gonna do?” Yvonne asked.
“I want you to fire at the dirt once we’re back far enough, unless Garrett tells us that they set the mine there.”
“Sure it’s a mine?”
“Well, they buried something there,” Sid said. “Might take more than one shot to blow it.”
“Garrett just got back to me. It wasn’t them. I asked him why we aren’t seeing his patrols around here. He sounded real worried. There’s more folks on the way now.”
Sid stopped the Jeep. “This ought to do it. Start taking pot shots.”
“Turn around facing it so I can use the roll bar as a rest,” she said.
Sid nodded and turned the Jeep around. Yvonne rested her rifle on the roll bar and aimed, pulling the trigger. The bullet pelted the ground, but nothing happened.
“You sure it’s a mine?” Clem asked.
“Those things have a detonator button. Might take a few tries to hit it.”
“We might just break the assembly, and never touch it off,” Yvonne said. “I’ll try a few more shots. You guys keep your eyes on the ridges. There might be somebody up there.”
She fired several more times, hitting the spot, no explosion going off. Then there was the crack of a rifle shot, Yvonne dropping immediately as a bullet hit the roll bar.
“You hit?” Sid shouted.
“No,” she said. “Roll out of the Jeep. It came from the right.”
“I see where they came from,” Clem said, nodding towards his right. “They’re gonna get me before I can get behind something.”
“I see them,” Sid said, pulling out his rifle. Another shot rang out, hitting the side of the Jeep, then another, popping one of the tires. Sid fired several times, causing the snipers to get down.
“Now!” Sid said, scrambling behind the Jeep as Clem and Yvonne did the same, all of them with weapons in hand.
“Text Garrett again,” Sid said, reaching into the back of the Jeep as another shot rang out, hitting the front windshield.
Clem did that, as Yvonne watched the ridge where the snipers head was popping up every few seconds. She tried to time his rhythm, firing at the right time, splitting the sniper’s head. “Got the bastard.”
“Nice shot, baby,” Sid said, pulling his M60 in front of him. He aimed at the break in the gate and fired, the stream of b
ullets setting off several mines, one of them a few feet in front of the gate break.
“Whoa, I was almost on top of that one,” Clem said, looking over at Sid.
“You get Garrett?”
“Yeah, I let him know what was going on. I told him we needed a ride.”
Another shot rang out, from behind them this time.
“Dammit,” Yvonne said, rushing for cover with the others, then aiming again, watching the ridge. “Come on out, slug.”
“This is why I love her,” Sid quipped.
“Focus, dammit,” Yvonne said, pulling the trigger, tagging the sniper in the neck.
“Wow,” Clem said, clutching his rifle.
“These are more UN folks,” Sid said. “We would’ve gotten buzzed by the apps if they weren’t.”
“Thought we’d nailed most of them,” Yvonne said.
“There might only be a few of them out here, and we’ve killed two already,” Clem said, his eyes peeled. “It’s gonna be dark soon.”
Gunfire erupted from behind the ridge, a mixture of M60 automatic fire and black powder rounds, the smoke starting to drift into the air. It went on for several minutes, AK-47s returning fire for a few moments. Then there was silence.
“I’d say that was more than a few,” Yvonne said.
“Horses on the ridge,” Clem said, pointing.
Sid reached into the back of the Jeep for the binoculars and put them to his eyes, straining in the low light of dusk. “We just got an all-clear sign.”
“Thank God,” Yvonne said. “We still gonna place these damn cameras?”
“We should do it now, while we still have some light,” Clem said.
“We need to be careful over there,” Sid said. “Might be more mines.”
“Yeah,” Yvonne said.
“I’ll be fine,” Clem said, “but do me a favor. Stay here and fix the flat, so we can leave.”
“I think I ought to go with you,” Sid said.
“No,” Yvonne said. “Change the tire. I’ll watch for both of you.”
Sid nodded and got to work, as Clem grabbed the box of surveillance cameras and hurried back to the fence. He watched the ground as he neared, his flashlight pointed at the dirt around the broken spot.
“Good, he’s being careful,” Sid said as he put the jack under the Jeep.
“More horses on the ridge, over where the first shots came from.”
Their phones dinged. Sid pulled his and looked. “Garrett said three of his patrolmen were killed, and there were twelve UN Peacekeepers behind that ridge.”
“Dammit,” Yvonne said. “This sucks.”
Clem placed the cameras, one on the tree facing the outside, others on the fence posts themselves, on either side of the break. He looked at the crater. There was the edge of an unexploded mine visible on the other side of the fence. He texted Sid about it.
“What did he see?” Yvonne asked when she heard the ding.
“There’s an unexploded mine sticking part way in the dirt, beyond the fence.”
“Are we gonna fire at it?”
Sid sent another text to Garrett. “Let’s see what Garrett wants us to do.”
His phone dinged after a moment.
“Well?” Yvonne asked.
“He said to leave it,” Sid said, “in case they think they all got blown up. He’s going to spread the word to stay away from here.”
Clem rushed back to the Jeep as Sid was pulling the old tire off.
“How much longer?” he asked.
“Five minutes,” Sid said. “Might want to cancel our ride.”
“Don’t,” Yvonne said. “Just in case. They can escort us home.”
“Yeah, I agree,” Clem said.
Sid nodded and finished installing the spare. “Good thing I just put air in this.” He stowed the jack. “Let’s go.”
They got in and Sid drove them home, meeting several other Jeeps on the way, who turned and followed them.
***
“Stockton is always bigger than I remember,” Shelley said, in the passenger seat of the battle wagon. Jules was at the wheel, Sparky and Dana on the couch.
“I hope using I-5 to go south was the right idea,” Dana said. “Lots of people on this road. These battle wagons are easy to spot.”
“Most people don’t know,” Jules said. “Glad we fixed Ted’s mini gun gimbal. With gun out, people tell, no?”
Sparky laughed. “Yeah, that’s for sure, although most people who see us are probably on our side.”
“One would hope,” Dana said. “We’re not taking this all the way down, are we?”
“The boss asked that we get on I-15 before we get too far south,” Jules said. “Navy don’t want caravan through coastal side of San Diego.”
Sparky chuckled. “Yeah, I could see that, I guess. Are we going into Dulzura using Highway 94?”
“That the plan,” Jules said. “Should work. Long drive. Wish we could spend a night on way.”
“We’ve got four drivers,” Shelley said. “We should keep going.”
Dana was looking at her phone. “Here’s how to go. Get on the 210 Freeway at Sylmar, then take that down to I-15.”
“That’s a good idea,” Sparky said. “Been that route before.”
Jules shrugged. “Okay, I do. How many hours?”
“Says eight hours and seventeen minutes from Stockton, which we just passed,” Dana said. “It’s not that bad, and all of our rigs have more than one driver.”
“Some of the off-roaders don’t,” Sparky said.
“They make detour anyway,” Jules said, “weapons upgrades being done in Santa Clarita.”
“At the same place we picked the battle wagons up?” Shelley asked.
“Yep,” Jules said.
“Are you sure that’s safe?” Dana asked.
“Enemy never found,” Jules said. “Should be good. They spend night, changes take time.”
“Hope we don’t lose a bunch of them,” Sparky said. “We’re gonna need them, I think.”
They settled into the drive, not speaking much for many miles, Dana finally laying on the couch and dozing, Sparky stretching out on the dinette bench and nodding off.
“You no sleep?” Jules asked, glancing at Shelley.
“Oh, I’m okay,” she said. “It really feels like we’ll get to the end of this soon.”
“Good chance, but dangers ahead. You know this.”
“Yes, I know,” she said. “Anxious to see your old friends?”
“Very much. Ji-Ho and Sam are fun. You’ll like.”
She smiled at him. “Ji-Ho reminds me of a big kid.”
“Yes,” Jules said. “He got idea for battle wagons.”
“I heard, from that guy named George.”
Jules smiled. “Yes, George. Too bad he not with.”
“We should decide where to trade off drivers,” Shelley said, pulling her phone in front of her face.
“Bakersfield?”
“Hmmm, that’s pretty far,” Shelley said, brow furrowed under her blonde hair. “How are you feeling?”
“I good for long time.”
“It’s almost another three hours away,” she said, “and the town would be Buttonwillow. Bakersfield is too far east.”
“We can run generator, use coffee maker and microwave,” Jules said.
“Yes, we should do that,” Shelley said, “unless you want to stop, and I think that would be a bad idea.”
“Agree. Maybe you should get shut-eye.”
“No, I’m gonna let Sparky drive the next round, and I’m the only person awake other than you right now. I’ll stay awake while you’re driving, if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind,” Jules said, glancing at her.
The miles ticked by, the coach silent inside except for muffled road noise and Sparky’s snoring. Shelley was thinking about the pregnancy, making plans for getting a test kit, going over her speech to Jules in her mind, the feelings warming her as they cruised in
the mid-afternoon sun.
“You in heavy thought,” Jules said. “I see wheels turning.”
“I suppose you want to know what I’m thinking.”
“Your thoughts are your own,” Jules said. “Tell me if you want, no pressure, okay?”
“I’m just thinking about our lives after the war, that’s all,” she said.
“Good thoughts, I hope?”
“Of course, honey,” she said.
“USA be mess for months. I hope we can find safe quiet place to ride out.”
“Don’t you think we’ll be looked at as heroes when this is over?” Shelley asked.
“By many, yes. By all, no.”
“Who would want the enemy to win?” Shelley asked.
“Leftists who want end to democratic society and nationalism,” Jules said. “Fight goes on. Trust me. I expect pressure to break USA into smaller chunks.”
“We can’t do that.”
Jules smiled. “We shouldn’t do that. Not same as can’t.”
“Do you want to stay in America? Or will we go back to Europe?”
“Partly depends on who survives conflict, who control governments,” Jules said, “but that’s minor, as far as I’m concerned.”
“Minor?”
“Yes, biggest issue is where we want to make life together. Joint decision. We both American citizens. We can stay here. Maybe vacation in Europe.”
“You’d be okay with that?”
Jules chuckled. “Nicer here. Better society. Less class garbage. Less intrusive government. More rights spelled out in Constitution.”
“But your business,” she said.
Jules laughed. “I could sell, money in bank more than enough for us and later generations.”
“Do you want to sell?”
“We need to think about,” he said. “Maybe. Don’t have to move there to run business. Have to go more often, though. Might be fine. We’ll see.”
“If you sold it all, what would you do?” Shelley asked.
“I figure something out,” he said. “Not worry me.”
“What if you get bored?”
“Then I do something,” Jules said. “Opportunities abound. Trust me. This is America, babe.”
Shelley was silent for a few minutes, thinking about what he said. “What if we just lived in this for a while? Traveled the countryside. People do that all the time here, you know.”
