Last Stand: Patriots (Book 2)

by William H. Weber

  “We’re not sure,” Moss said. “They don’t speak any English. Sounds to us like Russian, but who the hell knows.”

  This was quickly going from bad to worse. “I know what a lot of you are thinking, that we’re being invaded by Russia and possibly China,” John told them. “And you may be right, but we need to at least be open to the possibility that this convoy was one of many intended as aid.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Marshall admitted, “right up until we found the weapons and ammo. I mean, darn right we were hoping for rifles and bullets. Everyone here knows that. But we thought they’d have a US Army decal on the side instead of a foreign flag.”

  John’s head was spinning. For every question they answered, ten more seemed to take their place. If the US was being invaded and these shipments of food and weapons had been sent by the Russian and Chinese military, rather than by an aid organization, then it begged the question: What president was the Chairman really working for?

  Chapter 29

  Back in the command tent, John and the others continued to discuss what they’d seen in the trailers.

  “On the bright side,” Moss said, sweating profusely in the noonday sun, “at least it means we have food and weapons.”

  John was in Rodriguez’s seat by the radio. “If we can trust it, that is. For all we know this is some elaborate ploy to poison us. I think it’ll also be worth testing the weapons to make sure they work properly.”

  Marshall drew in a deep breath, his wide chest expanding under his vest. “I don’t see any other option but to go ahead with Operation Hammer Fist.”

  John looked up at him, puzzled. It was the first he was hearing about a secret operation.

  Seeing the confusion, Moss elaborated. “We have an agent in Oneida. He’s been tasked with gathering intel. That part you know. What you don’t know is that we’ve also sent orders to initiate an assassination of the Chairman.”

  Marshall cleared his throat. “Given what we’ve discovered, I just don’t see any other way. We need to cut the head off the snake, and the town should fall quickly. A bloody battle will only endanger the very loved ones we’re trying to free.”

  John couldn’t agree more with the last part, but certainly not the first. “And what do we do if we’re wrong about this?” he asked.

  “Wrong about what?” Marshall asked, rocking back on his heels as though John had taken a swing at him.

  “What if the president really did declare some type of martial law and put men like the Chairman in charge of small cities and towns all over the country?”

  “But if so then where’s the military?” Moss argued. “Wouldn’t they be rolling through the streets?”

  “For a small town like Oneida?” John countered. “I doubt it. New York or Atlanta, sure. Don’t forget we live in a country with over three hundred million people, most of whom are either dead or have turned to looting and lawlessness because they weren’t prepared for a prolonged blackout. The military could be concentrated in large cities, trying to regain control. Perhaps these shipments are part of a multinational relief effort.”

  The others looked skeptical and John thought that skepticism was perfectly justified. He didn’t necessarily believe what he was saying, but making an informed decision meant not going off half-cocked and latching onto the most obvious conclusion. Sometimes being the single voice of dissent was the only way to ensure that. “If we kill the Chairman and he is who he says he is, we’ll be branded as criminals or worse: terrorists.” John drummed his fingers against the desk, racking his brain to come up with a solution. “All I’m saying is let’s be smart about this. Without email or phones or television, the Chairman should have arrived with a piece of paper bearing the president’s seal. You said yourself he showed up in town with official-looking documents. If we can find those papers then it may help us prove he’s a fake.”

  Marshall was quiet while he contemplated what John was saying.

  “I don’t know what kind of president would revoke the Constitution even under such extreme circumstances,” John continued. “On that level alone, he’d have quashed every reason I have to be loyal to the man. The very purpose of his job is to protect the Constitution. But here’s the thing. Why should we slaughter the people of Oneida simply for being caught in the middle? They’re Americans too, don’t forget. If they think the Chairman’s legit, no matter how reprehensible, then it’s our job to prove that he isn’t. If we do that then I guarantee you the whole house of cards will come tumbling down. If we simply assassinate the man, who knows what tyrant may take his place?”

  “Either way we’re in trouble,” Marshall said, weighing both options. “If the Chairman’s been put here legally, then it means we have a dictator for a president who’s stripped all our rights away.”

  “And if he’s not?” John continued. “Then given everything we’ve seen, it could mean the Chairman’s a fifth columnist and foreign troops are already on American soil, perhaps even headed this way.”

  “Fifth columnist?” Moss asked, wiping the back of his hand across his forehead.

  “An expression from the Spanish Civil War and used throughout World War II,” John explained. “It refers to a small group of individuals sent in to subvert an enemy’s ability to fight. Near the end of the war, German troops in stolen American uniforms made it behind enemy lines to misdirect traffic and supplies during the Battle of the Bulge.”

  “Sneaky buggers,” Moss shouted, grinning, his dark mohawk standing as rigid as the plumes on a centurion’s helmet. “How’d they finally catch ’em?”

  John gave him a sly grin. “Tripped ’em up in a way they never expected. At checkpoints, US forces would ask questions only Americans would know. Like which league did the Chicago Cubs play in, or who’s Betty Grable? Most of the German spies had near flawless American accents, but stumbled over simple trivia.”

  Moss slapped his leg and howled with laughter. The childish side of the young Patriot was shining through and seeing it brought home the stinging memory of Emma and Gregory. For a brief moment, John said a silent prayer they be kept safe.

  I’m coming, kids.

  As John grew quiet, all attention returned to Marshall, who stood scratching the edge of his bristling chin. “I’ll need more time to make a decision,” he told them, dismissing those assembled in the command tent.

  Chapter 30

  As they shuffled out, John pulled Rodriguez off to the side.

  “Has your man in Oneida found Diane and the kids yet?”

  “He has,” Rodriguez answered without elaborating.

  John paused, his guts twisting in knots. Even though he knew he was talking to Rodriguez, he couldn’t help seeing First Sergeant Wright’s thin face looking back at him. His hands went to the radio operator’s shoulders. “Tell me they’re all right.”

  “The report that I received was that they’re safe. Along with the Appleby family.”

  The tension in John’s chest dissipated. “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that. How long do you think before your man will get a hold of the Chairman’s presidential orders?”

  “Who can say?” Rodriguez replied. He was being curt and John didn’t understand why. “He’ll need to reconfigure his previous goals and objectives from Operation Hammer Fist toward this new mission.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s not quite as simple as dropping everything you have and snooping through drawers. He’s made contacts and commissioned friendly assets toward helping the cause.”

  “You mean members of the Chairman’s entourage? Citizens of Oneida?”

  “In a few cases, yes, but…” That funny look flashed across Rodriguez’s eyes again.

  “There’s something you’re not telling me,” John said, noticing the subtle twitch in the radio operator’s lower lip. “Something about Diane.”

  Rodriguez paused and sighed heavily. “The Chairman’s taken a liking to her,” he told him.


  “A liking?”

  “The report from the agent said the Chairman had taken her into a room to be interrogated and she nearly broke his wrist.”

  A toothy grin grew on John’s face, although the act betrayed the simultaneous dread he was also feeling. “She can be a real pistol,” John said with pride. “It was one of the reasons I married her. She’d kill me if she knew I told you this, but we were both freshmen on the campus of Tennessee U. She was a literature major and I was enrolled in what would be a failed attempt to become an engineer. We were on the city bus, heading to our respective classes, packed in like factory-farmed chickens. It was hot and sweaty and the guy next to her decided her bottom would make a perfect resting place for his hand. A grab and a squeeze was about all he had time to accomplish before Diane turned around and decked him. Course, Mr. Touchy Feely didn’t like that one bit and made like he was gonna hit her back.”

  “But you caught his arm and beat him?” Rodriguez said, clearly getting into the story.

  The grin on John’s face widened. “I might have if she hadn’t kicked him between the legs first.”

  Rodriguez’s face mirrored the pain the pervert must have felt.

  “You don’t just let a girl like that slip away,” John said. “I thought she did a fine job. A couple years later, once I’d managed to make her my wife, I taught her that wrist lock in case another man tried to put his hands on her.”

  “She sounds like she can take care of herself just fine then.”

  “I’m sure she can,” John replied, remembering the soft features of Diane’s young face that day on the city bus.

  For the time being, Rodriguez didn’t say more about the Chairman’s apparent interest in Diane. But John knew perfectly well, some men liked what didn’t come easy. There was something about trying to bend a strong woman to their will that excited men like the Chairman. A lesser man would have licked his wounds and sent her away. Someone with a rather unsettling fetish for power and control, however, would see Diane’s defiance as nothing more than a challenge.

  Chapter 31

  Edward let Diane, Kay and the three kids into the apartment and stuffed the keys back into his pocket.

  “I told you I’d get you out of those cells,” he said gruffly.

  There was something unusual about the man, Diane thought. Even when he was doing something kind, he somehow managed to sound cross.

  “We can’t thank you enough,” she told him. “Although I can’t help but feel guilty. There are still so many others still locked up.”

  “You’re not the first family I’ve gotten out,” Edward said. “But don’t go thinking you’re free, ’cause you’re not. A guard’s gonna show up any minute to stand right outside that door. Consider this more like house arrest.”

  Gregory was thumbing the remote for the TV.

  “Honey, you know that isn’t going to work.”

  “Yeah, but you never know,” he said, grinning.

  Kay and her daughter Natalie were in the kitchen playing with the faucet. Emma was probably checking out the bedrooms.

  “No water either,” Kay said, wrenching the faucet lever back and forth.

  “This isn’t a hotel at Disneyland,” Diane said curtly.

  Edward nodded. “A gallon jug of clean water will be brought up once a day for each of you. As per FEMA standards, three quarters for drinking, one quarter for sanitation. You’ll need to make it last.”

  He moved to the door and waved her over.

  “Oh, yeah, there’s been a change of plan,” he said.

  Diane went over to where he was standing. The others in the apartment were still snooping around every nook and cranny like a bunch of curious cats.

  “You mean about the Chairman?”

  He nodded and at once Diane reached down and removed the knife from the bottom of her pant leg. She was handing the blade back to him when he pushed her hand down.

  “You’re having dinner with the Chairman tonight,” Edward said.

  Diane looked both shocked and horrified.

  “And there’s something you need to do. Slip this into his drink,” Edward told her, producing a small paper pouch.

  “What’s in it?”

  “Ground-up Ambien sleeping pills, strong enough to knock him out for a few hours. More than enough time for you to complete your mission.”

  “My mission?” Diane was liking this less and less every second.

  “In the breast pocket of the Chairman’s jacket are documents from the president, stating his appointment as temporary administrator for Oneida. We need you to find those documents and bring them to us.” He motioned toward the bedroom. “In the closet you’ll find a leather pair of size six-and-a-half knee-high boots. Wear those tonight.”

  “But I’m a size seven.”

  Edward fixed her in a steely glare. “Then you’ll need to squeeze.”

  “What are the boots for?”

  “So you can smuggle the knife in.”

  Now the anxiety was making Diane’s heart slam against her chest.

  “But what about the sleeping powder? I thought I was just knocking him out.”

  “You are. The knife’s in case you get caught.”

  •••

  The man who would stand guard outside their apartment arrived just then and Edward left without saying another word. Even with the door closed, knowing they couldn’t simply come and go as they pleased made their new dwelling feel so much smaller. Even so, it was infinitely better than a cell block filled with all those other people.

  Edward’s words were still echoing inside her head when Gregory came next to her, his dark curly hair matted and greasy.

  “Just went through all the drawers, Mom, and there are no knives, just a dozen spoons. Hey, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, honey. I’m simply tired. Listen, I think we all need to wash up. I’m sure there’s a water heater in one of the closets. Why don’t you look for a bucket under the sink and see if you can’t fill it.”

  Gregory smiled, eager to start the job he was given. He sped off and then put on the brakes. “Hey, Mom, you think we’ll ever see Dad again?”

  Diane was suddenly hyper-aware of the guard standing outside and put a finger over her lips to tell Gregory to be quiet. “Of course we will, honey. If I know your father, he’s already on his way.”

  While Kay was with Natalie, investigating the rest of the cupboards, Emma returned from the bedrooms and fell into the couch, kicking up a thick cloud of dust. She coughed, waving her hand in front of her face.

  “This place hasn’t been cleaned in months,” she complained. “I think I preferred the cell.”

  Diane went and sat next to her. In spite of the way she was acting now, Emma wasn’t a spoiled brat. It was clear she was missing Brandon and her father and no doubt still dealing with the shock of what had happened back at the cabins.

  “I know how you’re feeling,” Diane said, “but compared to other people, it could be a lot worse.”

  “We’re locked in a dusty apartment without running water with no way of getting out.” They were on the second floor with windows facing the street, but climbing out of them without being seen wasn’t a realistic option. Especially since it meant getting shot on sight. For a moment, Diane’s attention was directed outside where the loudspeaker was reminding the residents of Oneida to obey the authorities and turn in any and all weapons.

  “You’ve got a roof over your head,” she said at last. “And a father who’s still alive.”

  “Yeah, how do you know he’s still alive?”

  “I just do.”

  “You mean the same way you know God exists?”

  “Not faith, honey. All I can tell you is your father’s making preparations to help free us. But we all need to do our part.” Now Diane was whispering. “But Brandon and Natalie don’t have a father anymore. So the next time you’re feeling like you’re hard done by, you just remind yourself of the sacrifice that they’ve made.”<
br />
  A knock came just then before the door opened. The locks had been removed and reinstalled on the other side. As comfy as it was, there was no fooling—this was still a prison.

  “Who do you think it is?” Emma asked, fear creeping into her face.

  Diane looked back at her with a matching expression. “I told you we all had a part to play. This is mine.”

  Chapter 32

  John entered the command tent to find Marshall alone inside. “There’s something I need to talk to you about,” John said.

  Marshall looked weary, as though the weight of the entire country were resting on his shoulders, a feeling John hoped to never experience again. “What is it?”

  “I’ve come to understand that this camp was thrown together out of necessity, but without knowing how long it will take to overthrow the Chairman and reclaim Oneida, we may need to start making some long-term plans.”

  That the camp looked like a hobo town from the Great Depression wasn’t a big surprise, although it was clear that few people knew how to fix the problem.

  Marshall’s eyes narrowed. “What do you have in mind?”

  John told Marshall about the pot farm he’d discovered and the books on hydroponics.

  “I think we can use the information there to begin growing our own food, rather than relying on captured supplies. It’ll help boost morale as well as the soldiers’ health. You could also make some improvements to your clean water situation. I see a lot of men and women in camp using iodine tablets and bleach to purify water. Some boil it, sure, but I think many see the first two methods as quicker and more convenient. They don’t realize those were really meant as short-term solutions. I noticed some ceramic candle filters in that first truck we inspected. It wouldn’t be too difficult to get a number of fifty-five gallon drums and create a nice, simple filtering system. Besides, it’ll do away with needing to gather stones, sand and charcoal. The improvement in taste will help too.”