The Occupation: A Thriller

by W. J. Lundy

  The point man took another step and froze. He lifted a fist and raised his rifle into the distance beyond John. Maybe instinct, maybe he sensed him, maybe he saw movement of an animal or a tree. It didn’t matter because he didn’t see John.

  John aimed high on the point man’s armor and worked the trigger. The rifle barked, and the flame left the muzzle. His vision strobed as he fired, and he switched his point of aim to the next man. By the time he shifted again, the third man had dived for cover. It was to no effect; John saw the man lying prone on the trail and pumped rounds into the top of his helmet.

  Those further behind were initially stunned but responded quicker than John had expected them to. The first man dropped to the ground while the other raised his rifle and fired. John rolled left behind the rock as his previous position was peppered with rounds. Instead of rolling back, he rose and fired four shots into the standing man from over the boulder. He searched the ground for the man who’d dropped and saw the tail end of him as he ran around the corner. A last volley of rifle fire from Bobby’s gun, and the lead element was down.

  “I’m clear. Four down,” John said as he dropped and changed magazines.

  “Three in the dirt,” Bobby said. “Lima Five, did you get the rest?”

  “Negative, they never came up,” Rodrigo said.

  “Of course, they didn’t,” John said. “They’ll be down out there in the weeds, shitting their pants.”

  “This is Lima Four, we got them in sight. Looks like when the shooting started, they ran off into the tall grass and stopped.”

  “What are they doing now?” Bobby said.

  “They’re just sitting out there, hiding, aiming up the trail like they expect you to come running down it. You want us to take shots at them?”

  “No,” John said. “Don’t expose yourself. Keep your eyes on them and report if they move.”

  “Roger that,” the man called back.

  John tucked the empty magazine into a drop pouch and then moved forward with his rifle at the low ready. He stopped at the first body and turned it over. The man was dead, rounds through the upper chest. Quickly, John moved to the next and worked his way down. At the last body he found Bobby, who was holding a stack of wallets.

  “All Steel Corp, all foreign,” he whispered. “Two Syrians and a Turk.”

  John scowled. “They’re hiring Syrians to police Americans.”

  Bobby nodded and looked out into the darkness. “What are we going to do about them?” He pointed a thumb over his shoulder, down the trail.

  “It won’t be easy; they know we are here. They’ll be posturing up in a tiny perimeter and looking for us to come after them,” John said. “We go running up on them, and we are dead.”

  “You’re the expert, it’s your call,” Bobby said.

  John scratched at his head. “They never saw Five’s hide. Four is dug in with eyes on them. Right about now, those guys out there are figuring out they have no communications with the lead team. They don’t want to leave them, but they don’t want to come up and get killed either. No, they aren’t going anyplace. They’ll ask the base camp for help. The camp thought we were on the road but now knows we’re up here.”

  “You think they’ll hit the road?” Bobby said.

  John nodded. “They’ll try, but then they’ll figure out that there are more than two assholes up here. Then they’ll get really concerned. They’ll freeze and call for more help. Probably the National Guard.” As if to emphasize his point, they heard heavy machine gun fire from near the road. John nodded. “Yup, hitting the road. Now they’re scared.”

  “What do you want to do?” Bobby asked.

  John pointed down toward the distant base camp. “I want to go down there and raise hell,” he said. “I want to let whoever is in charge know we aren’t afraid of them, and that we can hit them back.”

  Bobby smiled, showing his teeth. “Then let’s do it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The group had been walking up the dark trail for thirty minutes. Bill couldn’t see shit; the moon was covered in deep clouds, and a light rain kept dripping water into his eyes. As demanded, he kept his hand on the back of the Rock’s vest, forcing his wrist to bend painfully every time they came to a stop. He knew the man was messing with him, insisting that he kept a hand holding on, yet jerking and trying to swing him loose at every opportunity. Bill, the last man in the column, had no radio, he had no night vision, and he was only armed with a pistol. There was absolutely no reason for him to be there.

  The man known as Rock stopped, and Bill smashed into him, twisting his wrist again. On impact, he felt the man shove back, and he swore he heard him and others laugh. He looked back at Bill and leaned in. “We’re close to our objective. Maybe try and be more careful.”

  “Maybe don’t be a prick,” Bill said back, rubbing his sore wrist.

  The man laughed. “I’ll try, my friend.”

  Before the man could say another word, the air erupted with gunfire—rapid bursts of rifle fire from the front. Bill felt himself being thrown into the tall grass to the right of the trail. He hit the ground hard with his mouth open, eating dirt. When he looked up, he could see that Rock was kneeling just beside him with his rifle pointed further up the trail. In the distance were the strobes of muzzle flashes in rhythm with the gunfire. A lot of gunfire. Whoever was at the end of the trail was in a fight. Bill went to draw his pistol then thought against it. He wasn’t a part of this fight. No reason to even try to pretend to be.

  Rock looked down at him and said, “The lead element has been ambushed.”

  “What do you mean, ‘ambushed’?” Bill said.

  Rock slapped him hard in the face and shouted. “Do you know what ambush means or not, man?”

  Bill put up a hand, blocking his face from another slap. “I know what ambush means, asshole, but how? I thought you pricks said they were all down on the road.”

  “Well, apparently they were not,” Rock said.

  Bill pushed himself up and knelt next to the other man. Blinking, he adjusted his eyes and looked up the trail. It was vacant now, the entire team kneeling in the tall grass, with only their heads exposed. Someone ahead was shouting into a radio. The man, like Rock, had an Arabic accent, and he repeated the same command over and over. “Oscar, Oscar report.”

  This time it was Bill who leaned in. “Sounds like Oscar is having a bad day,” he whispered.

  Rock spun around and slapped him again. “If they are dead, then so are you, my friend.”

  Bill felt the sting on his face and the weight in his holster. He swore if the man hit him again, he’d kill him. “This is our first date; we are hardly ‘friends.’”

  At this, Rock laughed and looked back up the trail with his rifle up. He put a finger to his ear then looked back at Bill. “We need to spread out and lay low. Command is trying to decide what to do.”

  “Do about what?” Bill asked, fully expecting another slap. His hand opened and closed with the urge to draw his pistol.

  There was more gunfire, but this time far away. It was down on the road. Rock looked in the direction and flipped up his night vision. Bill could see his eyes wide with terror. “We were told there was only a pair of men up here,” the Rock whispered. “Who is that on the road?”

  “Guess you were told wrong; does it feel sucky not being the baddest dudes in the valley?” Bill said before turning to face the road as well.

  He knew this wasn’t a diversionary attack. Dawson must have thought positively that Warren and Newsome were at the top of the Gap. Someone had been sent to make another run to test her theory and was being torn to pieces by heavy machine guns. There was a loud explosion and the fighting faded.

  Bill looked at Rock. He could tell the man was scared. He knew about Steel Corp. They were used to doing raids on homes and putting down unrest against unarmed civilians. This was all new to them; fighting a superior force wasn’t their forte, and Bill knew it. “We should go back,” he
whispered to the man. “Go back and tell Dawson she messed up.”

  Rock looked down at him. “We have men up the hill. We have to wait to contact them.”

  “They’re all dead, and we will be too if we stay here,” Bill said.

  “No, we wait for them. They’ll call on the radio and tell us they are in position, then we shall move up and join them.”

  “Forget about them. You heard the fighting. Homeland underestimated the threat here. They sent you blind into an ambush,” Bill whispered. “Your buddies up that trail are dead, just like whoever they just sent up that road. Dawson is killing you off.”

  Rock held a finger to his lips, silencing Bill. The man looked off into the darkness, his eyes focused. He nodded his head out of habit then looked back down at the sheriff. “They want us to wait here and hold this ground. They will be sending another team up to join us.”

  “Then what? We walk up the hill and get killed just like your pals?” Bill said.

  Rock went to slap him. Bill raised a hand and pointed his finger. “No more of that shit, you understand? Try that again, and I’ll shoot you in the face.”

  Smiling, Rock nodded. “Ahh the sheep has teeth after all.” The man laughed again. “Okay, no more slaps.”

  Bill relaxed and leaned back into the grass, resting on his backside. He looked down the slope and could see the distant lights of Sherman. He estimated the distance. It couldn’t be more than five miles, and most of it downhill. He wasn’t a coward, but the impulse to move away from the fight appealed to him. He didn’t owe anyone here a thing. He could leave and file for his resignation in the morning. His pension would be less, but if he was killed, he’d get nothing. No, if he left, Nohrs would have him shot. Useless.

  Bill patted his chest and felt the bag in his shirt pocket. He had the video card. It was his only insurance, and maybe it was time to use it. They had gone too far, and this needed to stop. He shook his head. No, he couldn’t play that card. If he did, they would shoot him in the back of the head, take and destroy the card. They wouldn’t gamble with him. The city manager was on their side, and he was complicit in their actions. There would be no negotiation. Bill sighed. Even if he ran away, they would lock him up. They’d find some way to put this all on him.

  Bill looked at the man next to him. They were idiots if they thought they could fight these people now. They were dug into the woods; it would take the military to get them out. He pointed back down to the trailhead. “We should go. We’re sitting ducks here.”

  Rock scowled at him. “You just sit tight; we will get orders soon enough.” The man moved several feet away and dropped into the grass, vanishing from sight.

  “You need the military,” Bill said.

  Rock laughed. “Your army won’t do this work. They refuse.”

  Bill nodded. “Yeah, that’s because this work is for killers and traitors.”

  The stocky man sat up and looked at him with a scowl. “Watch yourself. This night isn’t over yet.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  They were running through the pass, John sticking close to Bobby as the big man navigated around trip hazards. They knew their perimeter was secure, so there was no reason to be stealthy. Bobby had passed the plan to hit the trailhead to Gregory and Paul, who immediately shut it down. This was out of scope for their objectives. The plan was to hold the pass and let public opinion shift. Gregory ordered the pair to return to the shelter, which all but secured that John would be going for the trailhead.

  Bobby ran toward a thick tree line then slowed before walking into the trees, ducking under low limbs and searching the ground. He stopped at a tall pine tree and began kicking away leaves and pine needles from its base. Then he dropped to his knees and used his gloved hands to clear away dirt and loam, revealing a large carpet. He grabbed a corner and pulled it back. Just below was a big black case, the side tightly encased in the earth. There were sturdy-looking handles on the lid, with latches all the way around. Bobby began snapping latches then shifted in position to grab one of the two handles. He looked at John and said, “Give me a hand here.”

  John did as he was asked, grabbed the near handle, and lifted. The lid came free with a pop. Inside were plastic boxes and dozens of items shrink-wrapped in mylar bags. Bobby reached in and took out a pair of the long mylar bags. He then cleared his rifle, removing the chambered round and magazine and dropped it into the case. He reached out for John’s rifle with an open hand.

  “What?” John asked. “You want my rifle why?”

  Bobby shook his head. “Trust me, you won’t need it anymore.”

  John nodded and cleared his own weapon and handed the rifle over. Bobby took it and laid it in the case with his own. He handed John one of the Mylar bags and told him to open it. John grabbed it at the top and pulled back the wrapping, revealing a short-barreled rifle with a long suppressor and laser optics attached. John checked the action and the power on the optics. He loaded a magazine then noticed this was a CAR-15 with full auto. He nodded his approval. “Where the hell did you manage to find these?”

  “Gregory had contacts in the East. When the man’s guns came up on a ban list, he lost them in a lake, and Gregory just happened to be fishing that day,” Bobby said, reaching into the case for a plastic box. He opened it and dropped out four canisters. He attached a pair to his vest and passed the others to John.

  “CS grenades?” John asked.

  “Yeah. You want to make them suffer; riot gear should help.” Bobby finished putting everything back in the case and pulled the carpet back over the top.

  “Why doesn’t Gregory want us to hit them?” John asked.

  The big man readied his own weapon, locking a magazine and chambering a round. He looked at John. “I don’t think he is so much against it. He just has a schedule he wants to stick to. He wants to draw things out, make this into a real siege—allow their response to incite others to react and the national momentum to build.”

  John smiled. “So if we bounce down there and kick the hell out of them, that probably jumps this up several notches. You all have been planning this. What’s going to happen?”

  “Another level of escalation is all,” Bobby said. “It was always assumed they would hit us like this. We would hit back, then they would call in more help, set a perimeter and begin negotiations.” The man rubbed the back of his neck. “The old man says we need to win this war in the media. They need to give enough to get the state to reject the corporate orders and join the Free States.”

  John nodded. “But a slaughter down there, and they will just hit us hard. No warning, no talks. Maybe even active military and skip the Guard altogether.”

  “Exactly.” Bill sighed. “Instead of a siege, we get a fight to the death.” Bobby grunted and continued. “Gregory doesn’t want us to be the aggressors. He fears that if people see us on the offensive, it will change the messaging. Instead of victims fighting for our rights, we become killers.”

  John looked at the younger man. “I’m sorry, Bobby, but I don’t think Gregory wants a fight. I think he wants a massacre. He wants a glorious battle that puts Emmerson’s Pass on the map and gets the attention of the world. But I don’t want to go out like that.”

  Bobby pursed his lips. “Well, I think we have some time before the big reinforcements get here.”

  “Why isn’t the Guard already here?” John said.

  Bobby nodded. “Mostly because Homeland doesn’t trust them. They put on a big show about the Guard always being on their side, but behind the scenes, it’s not that simple. Remember that thing in Ohio, at the university?”

  “The ROTC student uprising?” John said. “Five Homeland agents were killed, and the shooters escaped to Texas. They requested asylum from extradition, right? I was still in Iran, but I remember reading about it.”

  “Yeah, that,” Bobby said. “The ROTC students peacefully held some student union protest. Homeland called it insurrection or some shit. These kids just didn’t want their
program canceled. Yeah, sure they were armed, but nobody had gotten hurt and talks were still going on. Negotiations were dragging out, so Homeland called in the National Guard to shut it all down. Well, the Guard refused to raid the place, so Homeland puts them on security, then sends in a team of their own. Massive gun battle, and all the Homeland team is dead or wounded and most of the ROTC students escaped.”

  “So, the National Guard pulled security and let the students escape?”

  Bobby gave John a sideways glance. “Rumor has it, a National Guard captain heard Homeland brief their breach team. They were going in heavy—kill them all, take no prisoners, make an example of them. As you can imagine, this didn’t go over well for a National Guard captain that had graduated from the same ROTC program just years earlier. Well, when Homeland got ready to roll out, the captain confronted the agent in charge, and there was a bit of a situation.”

  “A situation,” John said.

  Shrugging, Bobby said, “End of the day, a bunch of Homelanders were dead, the ROTC guys were gone, and the National Guard couldn’t remember shit. And now Homeland doesn’t call them as quick as they used to.”

  “What happened to that captain?” John asked.

  Bobby looked away. “Went to Texas and claimed amnesty.”

  “The Oath still matters to some folks, don’t it?” John said.

  “Hooah, it does.” Bobby put up a fist, and John returned the bump. “Hey, man, you ain’t changing your mind on this, are you?”

  John looked at him and then around. “I haven’t changed my mind about anything. I’m just wondering how we get down there.”

  Bobby pointed and headed back into the woods, following the ridgeline to the south with John close behind him. As they moved, he heard Bobby say, “Lima One and Two, coming in behind you.”

  The big man slowed to a duck walk and went directly the ledge face. John moved up beside him and looked down. Thick brush at the top, the edge dropped sharply fifty feet with a debris pile at the bottom. Bobby knelt and pointed left and right. “One to the right, Two is on our left. They’ll have us covered all the way down,” he whispered.