by Robert Boren
“Wow, this is a steeper ridge than it looks like on the satellite view,” Junior said as they got to the edge.
“Yeah, wouldn’t want to be blasting along and run into this thing,” Curt said. “You’d go flying off here. Probably wouldn’t survive. He sat down on the ground and put the binoculars to his eyes. Junior and Rachel did the same. The others came up behind them and watched silently.
“Well?” Eric asked.
“This base is really spread out,” Curt said as he looked.
“It is,” Dirk said. “According to the app, the fighters aren’t spread all over, though. Wish we had higher resolution. It’d be nice to pinpoint them to specific buildings.”
“That’d take more processing power than the phones have, I suspect,” Curt said as he looked through the binoculars. “I see some choppers down there. See them? By that big row of hangers in the middle.”
“Shit, I see them,” Junior said. “Wonder if they’re airworthy?”
“Good question,” Eric said. He typed a message on his phone.
“What are you doing, honey?” Kim asked.
“Sending a text about the choppers to Jason and Kyle. Maybe they can pass it along to Ramsey. If they’re airworthy, they could give us a lot of trouble.”
“We don’t know what’s in those hangars,” Chance said as he looked through his binoculars. “There’s lights on in some of them.”
“Yeah, that’s probably where the forces are living,” Dirk said.
“Don’t be too sure,” Curt said.
“Yeah, I agree,” Junior said. “I see barracks over to the south-east. There’s lights on there, and I’ve seen a few people out. A couple of cars driving around, too.”
“We won’t be able to tell if we can hit this place,” Rachel said.
“I’m afraid not,” Junior said.
“Hey, are those fuel tanks?” Dirk asked. “To the west of the runway?”
Curt and Junior both looked in that direction.
“Those look like Quonset huts to me,” Junior said. “I’ll bet the fuel tanks are underground.”
“Probably,” Curt said. “I see spaces for fighter jets to line up, but I’ve seen no fixed-wing aircraft.”
“Jason said that the air force evacuated with all of their aircraft,” Eric said.
“Then why are there choppers here?” Junior asked.
“Still waiting for a response on my text message,” Eric said.
“It’s getting late,” Dirk said. “Jason and Kyle might be asleep.”
“Maybe,” Eric said. “What now? Do we try to get closer?”
“Closer?” Rachel asked.
“We can’t tell enough from here,” he replied.
“Hey, who’s that?” Curt asked, pointing at a line of troop transport trucks heading towards the base from Highway 70.
“Whoa,” Chance said. “Those trucks are full of enemy fighters. I see about twenty hits around each one.”
“They’re going into the main gate,” Curt said. “See them?”
“Yeah, I see them,” Junior said. “Look, more people are around now.”
“The gate is letting them through,” Rachel said, watching. “They’re driving to those Quonset Huts we were just talking about.”
“So they are,” Junior said, eyes glued to his binoculars. “They just turned on the porch lights on three of them.”
“See it,” Curt said. “Yep, the trucks are pulling up. Wish I had better binoculars.”
“These ones are really good,” Eric said. “I can see their faces. Islamists for sure. Oh shit.”
“What, honey?” Kim asked.
“They’re moving guns and ammo from the huts into the trucks.”
“Send a text about that to Jason and Kyle, pencil neck,” Curt said.
“Yeah, I think that’s a good idea,” Eric said.
“I’ll do it,” Kim said. “You keep looking with those binoculars.”
They watched for another five minutes as the trucks were loaded, many of the Islamist fighters stretching their legs around the area, some helping with the loading.
“Looks like they’re done,” Eric said. “They’re getting back in the trucks.”
“I’m not getting anything back from Kyle or Jason,” Kim said.
“Try Don,” Curt said.
“I’m trying Moe,” Clancy said, phone out.
“There they go,” Eric said. “They’re heading back to the gates.”
“Any response from anybody yet?” Rachel asked.
“I’m trying Kelly,” Junior said, whipping out his phone.
“Those trucks are going west,” Eric said. “Right back where they came from.”
“They came up I-25 and stopped to get supplies,” Dirk said. “That’s pretty obvious.”
“You get Kelly?” Curt asked.
“No, dammit,” Junior said.
Curt glanced at him, a worried look on his face. “I just sent a text to Amanda too. Nothing.”
“Maybe it’s time to go home,” Eric said.
“They’re not under attack,” Kim said. “At least not from Islamists. There’s no hits anywhere near there.”
“Shit, it might be the Injuns,” Junior said, standing up. Suddenly there was a shot, and the dirt on the canyon wall below them shuddered, dust flying.
“They see us!” Curt said. “Let’s get out of here. Stay low. They don’t have a clear shot past the top of this ridge.”
“How are they seeing us?” Rachel asked as the group fled, more bullets whizzing by them.
“They’ve got FLIR night vision,” Curt said. “Dammit, should’ve thought about that.”
“What’s FLIR?” Rachel asked.
“Forward Looking Infrared,” Curt said as they ran.
The group got back into their vehicles, driving north as fast as they could.
“We’re in trouble, aren’t we?” Kim asked, watching as Eric drove the Bronco, racing away from the ridge. They could still hear the bullets.
“I’m more worried about what’s going on at camp than what’s going on here,” Eric said.
The vehicles bounced along the dry wash, leaving the sound of gunfire behind.
Chapter 15 – The Rotunda
Trinity was sitting on the capitol dome balcony, facing to the north. His five companions were at different points on the circle, not visible to each other because of the curvature. It felt lonely.
The new belt guides went on easily and appeared to solve the problem. Smith had everybody on high alert.
“Anything, Trinity?” Smith asked. He snuck over to him and peered over the wall.
“No, man,” Trinity said. “I’m still nervous, though. It’s quiet. Way too quiet.”
“Stop that. You’re making me nervous with that shit.”
The two men looked at each other and chuckled.
“You think we’re gonna survive this, man?” Trinity asked.
“Good question,” he said. “If we get rushed with twenty thousand men, even with all the civilians, we’ll have a problem.”
“They’re going to focus on the ground floor when they come, though, right?” Trinity asked. “They want to get the leadership team in the bunkers.”
Smith chuckled. “They’ll focus on there until we start shooting at them.”
“Crap, good point, man,” Trinity said. “Dammit.”
“We’ve got a lot of firepower,” Smith said, “and we’ve got some cover. These walls here are cement.”
“Look,” Trinity whispered, nodding in front of him. “People moving towards us, right down Congress Avenue. They’re hugging the buildings as best they can.”
“Son of a bitch,” Smith whispered, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He texted the rest of his team to get ready, his hands trembling.
“I hope those civilians are really here,” Trinity said as he watched the group approach. “There’s a lot of enemy fighters down there.”
“Look, they’re coming on Colorado,
too,” Smith said. “My God, there’s so many of them. I’m texting Gallagher, to tip off the civilians.”
“You do that, man,” Trinity said, checking the belt on his M60. He switched on the power on the mini-gun. “Hope they don’t figure out that we need power for these.”
“Foley sees them coming from the East, down 12th and 13 th streets,” Smith said.
“Uh oh,” Trinity said.
“Shit, and Haney sees them coming from the southwest too, on 11 th and Colorado, also on South Congress.”
“When do we open fire?” Trinity asked.
“As soon as they get on the lawn,” Smith said, texting frantically. He set down his phone and picked up one of the M60s. “Get ready on the mini-gun.”
“I thought that was the last resort,” Trinity said.
“We only need to hold the enemy until the citizens show up,” Smith said, “and by that time, we probably don’t want to be using those. We’ll kill civilians.”
“They’re crossing 15th Street in three places,” Trinity said, getting up and raising his mini-gun. “Here they come.”
“Fire!” Smith said.
Trinity aimed and pulled the trigger, the electric motor spinning the barrels, a dense stream of lead hitting the first row of men, who dived for cover in a panic.
“Damn, this is cutting some of those guys in half!” Trinity said as he swept back and forth at the oncoming men. The other five mini-guns fired up, the sound almost deafening.
“Watch for RPGs, or anybody trying to set up a mortar,” Smith shouted. He aimed his M60 and fired, strafing back and forth, dropping men all over the lawn as yet more arrived, diving for cover.
“Mortar, see it?” Smith shouted, firing at the team with the M60, killing them all. Others rushed up to take over.
“Hit that mortar with the mini-gun and break it,” Smith shouted. Trinity aimed at it, the stream of lead cutting the mortar nearly in half and blowing up the box of shells next to it.
“Yes!” shouted Trinity.
There was a pop, and the roof below them on the east side of the building exploded. Smith ran over there in a panic. “Foley, get those guys!” He stopped in his tracks, looking at Foley laying on the floor with half his head gone. “Dammit!” Smith got on the mini gun and nailed the mortar team and their equipment, then searched for more as bullets pelted the wall above him. The mini-guns on the south side of the dome fired, hitting a mortar round crate, the explosion echoing through the area. More and more enemy fighters were rushing in. Now there was gunfire coming from the troops downstairs, firing M16s and M60s into the oncoming Islamist fighters from every window and door.
Smith scanned the area, seeing a team with RPGs heading up 13th street, passing the library and getting onto the lawn. He opened fire, killing all the men, then shooting at their equipment, some of it exploding next to men trying frantically to pick it up. He glanced down at his ammo supply. Over half gone. Dammit.
The dome shook on the south side, debris flying at Smith. He left his mini-gun and rushed back, finding the men dead on that side and the mini-gun destroyed. His heart was a frantic drumbeat. He rushed back to his mini-gun, getting there just in time to see another mortar team setting up. He splattered men and equipment with a burst of lead. Then he heard Haney scream with pain.
“You alive, Haney?” Smith shouted.
“Yeah, hit in the side, but I can still fire. Here comes another RPG team.”
Haney’s mini-gun fired, spewing lead and fire. Smith looked down and saw another group rushing up with a mortar, and nailed them. The building shuddered again, as something big hit the wall below him. He peeked over and saw fire, climbing up the wall on the north-east wing. Islamists rushed the wall, trying to get through the hole they blasted open, getting hit point-blank by fire from a dozen M60s. He looked back at the lawn, and saw a man aiming an RPG., He fired at him, killing the man, the rocket firing but going wide, hitting the parking lot. Smith tried to hit the RPG but somebody snatched it and rolled into the bushes. Smith filled that area with lead, and there was a small explosion. Got him.
“Hey, Captain, I’m almost out of ammo for the big gun,” Trinity yelled.
“Switch to the M60. Watch for mortars and RPGs – use the mini-gun for that.”
As he turned back towards the lawn, he saw another man with an RPG, who fired before Smith could hit him. The rocket flashed by him, going into the rotunda and blowing up, taking out his electricity.
“My gun has no power,” Smith shouted.
“Mine still does, dude,” Trinity shouted. “Bring your ammo over here if you’ve still got some.”
“Roger that,” Smith said, pulling the belt off his gun. He ran around to the north side, seeing another of his men dead in a heap with blood all over his chest and neck. He grabbed that ammo belt too, then rushed to Trinity.
“How many guns we got left?” Trinity asked as Smith approached, his breathing labored
“Yours and the one on the north-east side. The rest are toast, and everybody else is dead.” Smith took over the mini-gun as Trinity blasted away with his M60.
“We ain’t gonna make it, boss,” Trinity said. “We put up a good fight, though. Wish those civilians would get here. I was…”
“Trinity!” Smith shouted, watching as he slumped to the ground, blood pulsing out of the hole in his neck.
There was an explosion below. Smith looked down, watching as hundreds of Islamists were rushing into the ground floor. The remaining men inside made their last stand, firing wildly, some even fighting hand to hand. Smith saw a truck heading onto the lawn, and fired at it with the mini gun, blowing up something big inside, the explosion taking out a bunch of the men gathered around. He continued to fire wildly with the mini-gun, trying to kill as many Islamists as he could, not even bothering to look for mortars or RPGs now. The focus of the enemy was on flooding into the building, the gunfire slowing on the floors below him as the remaining national guard troops were killed. They’ll be up here any minute. Smith kept firing, then reloaded the gun with one of the belts he brought over. Then it was right back to it, fighters diving for cover, the stream of lead cutting through men like a hot knife through butter. Running footsteps echoed through the rotunda, then on the stairs.
“Hey you stop!” yelled a man with an Arabic accent. Smith whirled the gun around and cut him and his companions in half, but then he ran out of ammo. More Islamists rushed Smith, one of them shooting him with his hand gun, the bullet burning as it tore through his upper chest, his mouth filling with blood. Smith fell to the floor, and struggled to look over the wall of the balcony as more bullets ripped into his torso. The last thing he saw was thousands and thousands of Texans rushing onto the lawn, guns blazing.
Chapter 16 – Communications Breakdown
Governor Nelson watched the video feeds with a look of despair. “Our men will not survive.”
“My God, where did all those enemy fighters come from?” Schultz asked, a look of terror in his eyes. Ramsey, Hendrix, and Maria sat mesmerized.
“Looks like there’s only two of those mini guns still in action,” Hendrix said. “There’s probably five thousand fighters on the ground floor of the capitol right now. His eyes were brimming with tears.
“Those poor men,” Maria said, clutching her husband’s hand.
“The enemy is going to be a little upset when they find out the bunker is empty,” Ramsey said with resolve.
“Whoa, look,” Nelson said, standing up. The video showed thousands of citizens coming onto the lawn at a full run, guns blazing. The terrified Islamists ran, heading for the building, Texans following them right in, the thunder of many rifles clear even over the small speakers of the TV screen.
“Wow,” Ramsey said, watching the citizen army continue to flood the area, the gunfire intensifying.
“Nobody’s alive on the balcony anymore,” Maria said. “The last of them just got shot.”
“Smith,” Nelson said.
“He
knew this was probably a suicide mission,” Ramsey said softly.
The console beeped.
“I’ll go get it,” Maria said.
“I’ll turn on the TV in that room,” Hendrix said, getting up and following Maria into the console room, as the others joined them.
“Gallagher and Wallis,” Maria said.
“Hi, men,” Nelson said, walking to the monitor. “You see what’s going on at the capitol?”
“No,” Wallis said. “What’s happening?”
“The enemy attacked and overran the place,” Ramsey said, “until the citizens arrived. It’s going to be another rout. There’s so many armed citizens in the area that they won’t all fit.”
“Well, that’s some good news,” Wallis said.
“What’s going on?” Nelson asked. “You guys look worried.”
“Somethings going on at the RV Park in Ruidoso,” Gallagher said. “We can’t raise anybody on their cellphones.”
“Get the drone over it and take a look,” Ramsey said.
“The recon effort is still going on,” Gallagher said. “You sure you want to pull the drones off right this second?”
“Heard anything about the away team?” Nelson asked.
“Nope,” Wallis said.
“That’s been bothering me too,” Ramsey said. “Jason was supposed to be filling me in.”
“Try to call him,” Nelson said.
Ramsey nodded and walked away from the main group, phone to his ear.
“Who’s on the team?” Ramsey asked. “We could call them directly.”
“Curt is the leader,” Wallis said.
Ramsey walked back over. “I’m not getting anything. Texts aren’t going through, and phone calls are going to voice mail.”
“Dammit,” Nelson said. “Ramsey, see if you can raise Curt.”
Ramsey nodded and hit the contact. He listened to it ring until it went to voice mail. “Curt, call me now. Emergency. Ramsey.”
“Dammit, what the hell is going on?” Nelson asked.
“This isn’t the only reason we called,” Wallis said. “There’s more going on.”
