by Bobby Akart
A strong gust of wind swept across the open field to their right, causing Red Rover to sway back and forth despite being loaded down with passengers and gear. Cooper felt a sense of urgency. These cold fronts could move very quickly and catch them off guard.
“Gotta go for it,” he announced as he rammed the gear shift into first with his left hand and slowly released the clutch. Cooper had finally gotten a knack for the right-side steering wheel. The clutch and gas pedal positioning were no different than any manual transmission vehicle.
He looked in all directions and saw that the truck stop stood alone on the highway. There were no cars, houses, or people in sight, so as he approached, he quickly cut the steering wheel to the left and hastily found his way to the back of the building.
“Hurry, and don’t shoot each other,” Cooper instructed as they bailed out of the truck with their rifles.
Riley and Palmer took one side of the building, and Cooper took the other. He approached two storage sheds and found them both to be locked with padlocks. When he approached the front of the building, he peered around the corner and saw Riley doing the same on the other end. Cooper held his palm up, instructing Riley to stay in position.
Crouching low beneath the windows on the front of the building, Cooper moved along the corrugated steel façade and reached the broken glass door. He nodded to Riley and motioned with his fingers for his brother to join him.
Just as Riley arrived, Cooper nodded, and the men entered the small dark building. Staying low to the ground, Cooper went right and Riley went left. They were careful not to crunch their boots on the broken glass and, once inside, walked heel to toe to avoid any noise.
The room was cleared, and next, they walked through a dark opening into a garage repair area. They couldn’t see anything in the dark.
“Riley,” whispered Cooper, “grab a quart of oil and hand it to me.”
Riley slowly backtracked and retrieved a plastic bottle of 10W30.
Cooper took the bottle and whispered, “Ready?”
Riley patted him on the shoulder and raised his rifle to shoot at anything that moved. Cooper threw the oil across the garage, where it banged off a tool chest and ricocheted against some empty cans on a workbench. The sudden racket was designed to stir anyone hiding in the garage.
Nothing. Dead silence. Cooper took a chance and pulled out a small flashlight, which he used to illuminate the garage. It had been ransacked, but nobody was inside.
“Good deal,” said Cooper as he rose out of his crouch. “Grab Palmer. We’ll see about some diesel, and maybe we’ll check in at the Clarence’s Truck Stop motel.”
Chapter 47
December 12
Midwestern State University
Wichita Falls, Texas
Captain Garland had to make a decision. Cries for help could be heard emanating from Legacy Hall as hostages appeared in all the windows of the upper floors. Word of the tactical team’s presence must’ve spread through the dorm, agitating the hostages and making their captors nervous. Some could be seen being forcibly removed from the windows by the armed gunmen.
During the night, a member of local law enforcement had bravely delivered a two-way radio to the main entrance of Legacy Hall to open up lines of communication with the hostage takers. Thus far, any attempts at negotiation had been largely rebuffed. Unlike most hostage situations which involve one, in domestic cases, or just a small group of criminals, usually with a political agenda, this situation was unique.
The hostage takers weren’t seeking publicity for a cause. They weren’t demanding equal custody of a child, nor did they seek a ransom per se. Their demands were fairly straightforward—admittance to Texas for them and their families.
Like all hostage situations, regardless of the relative merits or sympathies associated with the demands, the hostage takers were still either terrorists or criminals and had to be stopped, then apprehended, in accordance with the law.
Garland was a skilled negotiator and experienced at diffusing hostage situations. He’d learned the most critical step in any hostage negotiation was listening. Most people were terrible listeners. Garland had a knack for it. He would listen to what they’d say without interruption, disagreement, or unsolicited evaluation of the hostage takers’ position.
In the Midwestern situation, boiling down the demands of the hostage takers took all of two minutes—let us go, and let us into Texas.
He tried to establish a rapport with the different spokesmen designated by the hostage takers. They were unified in their response. His ability to diffuse the situation by offering to escort them back to Oklahoma without repercussions, which was a lie, fell on deaf ears.
Garland implored Deur to gain President Burnett’s authority to give the hostage-taking criminals the impression a deal had been struck, only to arrest them and deport them back to Oklahoma anyway. The president refused because the international media was watching, and she didn’t want the optics of using subterfuge in this delicate situation. She wanted the matter resolved quickly and with no loss of life to the hostages.
Early that morning, Garland ordered sophisticated surveillance equipment to be delivered to Wichita Falls. Both sight and sound inside Legacy Hall, even if limited, would provide him valuable insight into the hostage takers’ moods and defensive positioning. There had to be an opening.
Resolution of a hostage situation was slow and tedious. The entire process required methodical logistical planning, intelligence gathering, and tactical support. Any team attempting to take control of a hostage situation had to be properly outfitted with everything from protective vests to flash-bang grenades.
A tactical assault to rescue hostages carried a high casualty rate for two interrelated reasons. First, it meant that negotiations were at an impasse or had broken down completely, leaving the hostage takers in a hopeless mindset. Second, if a firefight ensued, the resulting panic and confusion might result in hostages being inadvertently killed or wounded.
There could also be a threat of imminent harm to the hostages. After the surveillance equipment arrived, his teams quickly began the task of marking out the locations of the hostage takers inside the dorm. While it was difficult to identify whether any of the sleeping people in the dorm were hostiles, the wall-penetrating surveillance cameras could easily identify armed men stationed inside the building. Their surveillance indicated the armed men congregated near each floor’s exit points—stairwells and elevators.
Captain Garland received a full set of building drawings from the university’s maintenance administrator. The lower entrances as an insertion point for his teams were out of the question. They would be in plain view of the hostage takers, and the situation would erupt into a gunfight.
The roof was a much better option, but he’d need to access the top of the building without being seen. The good news was the hostage takers hadn’t appeared on the roof since the beginning of the crisis. He studied the stairwell access points to the roof and was pleased they corresponded with the dorm floor entries to the stairs directly below the doors.
He had an aide retrieve the keys to the steel doors that were located on the roof while he met with his lieutenants and discussed their options. It was agreed that a top-down assault using helicopters to insert the teams was out of the question because of the noise. One of his aides pointed out the building next to Legacy Hall was slightly higher, which might enable zip-line access.
This was shaping up to be their only option, but a diversion was necessary. Garland concocted a plan. He ordered his teams to get into place on the rooftop of the adjacent building. They would launch a grappling hook over a thirty-foot alleyway to the top of Legacy Hall’s roof to attach it to the parapet. Once accomplished, they could slide down the line over a two-story drop to get into position.
His job was to create a diversion. Garland needed to draw the attention of the hostage takers to the front of Legacy Hall, where he was located across the lawn. This would provide his te
am a precious few minutes to transfer from roof to roof, but they could do it.
Through their communications gear, the surveillance teams could keep the tactical team apprised of the hostage takers’ positions during the diversion. The goal was to remove the threats using their blades or silenced weapons. Then they would descend to the next floor until they took out the leaders of the hostage takers, who constantly moved around the ground floor, alone.
After Garland received confirmation that his tactical teams were ready, he ordered the Wichita Falls emergency service vehicles to arrive with sirens blaring. They came in from every direction and arrived at the front of Legacy Hall at the same time. Their sirens wailed while Garland’s team moved from one rooftop to the other.
As predicted, the surveillance team confirmed the curiosity of the armed gunmen got the better of them. They all rushed to the windows facing the front of the dorm to observe the commotion, but the cowards used human shields in the process.
Having received confirmation his teams were in place and working their way down the stairwells, Garland responded to the shouting and cursing over the two-way radio.
“I need you to calm down,” started Garland. “The arrival of the ambulances is strictly protocol, as we may have a resolution coming for you. If we can come to terms, then every released hostage will need to be treated for any physical or psychological injuries.”
“We didn’t hurt no one, man!” screamed the hostage taker in response. “I told you that already.”
“Yes, sir,” said Garland politely and calmly. “Again, it’s just our protocol. Now, do you want to talk about the deal or not?”
Garland released the talk button on the two-way radio and waited for a response. The hostage taker was silent, so he turned to the surveillance team coordinator and asked what was happening.
“Sir, they’re scrambling back to their positions. It appears that all the gunmen are on alert. We’ve confirmed eighteen, actually. Four on each dorm room floor and two milling about the front entrance to the building, which is directly across from us.”
“Is there any indication they’re holding hostages on the ground floor?”
“No.”
“What about on the other floors? Are they using the hostages as cover against our assault?”
“No, in fact, just the opposite,” she replied. “The hostages all appear to be in the dorm rooms. And, I might add, there is no indication that the gunmen have entered the stairwells.”
“Are our people in position?” asked the captain.
“Yes, except for the ground floor. We don’t have enough personnel to cover the two—”
“Hey, man! You still there?” The lead hostage taker returned to the conversation.
“Of course, I’m waiting for you,” replied Garland. “Are you ready to bring this to a head?”
“Sure am. You gonna do what we want?”
Garland looked to his tactical team commander, who provided him a nod and a thumbs-up. The surveillance team coordinator confirmed their readiness with a nod.
They were ready as Garland gave one final instruction. “Tell the tac squads in the ambulances to be ready. Instruct the stairwell teams to neutralize their targets and then descend the stairs to the bottom floor to flush out the last two vermin. They should run straight into the opening in front of us.”
“Roger that, Captain,” said the tactical team commander. “On your go, we’ll initiate the op.”
Garland took a deep breath. The hostages were out of harm’s way. The gunmen had isolated themselves into distinct, easily bunched targets. He needed to make this decision quickly, but not without one last word to the leaders of this band of criminals.
The hostage taker shouted into the radio, “Hey, man, I’m growin’ inpatient over here. We gotta deal, or do I need to start chuckin’ these coeds out the window?”
Garland gripped the two-way until his thumb turned white. “Yeah, man,” he started sarcastically as he pointed at the tactical team commander and formed his hand into a gun with his thumb and trigger finger. “You’re gonna love this deal.”
Garland dropped his cocked thumb, the hammer of his makeshift gun. The assault began, and just moments later it ended with the two lead hostage takers running onto the snowy front lawn of Legacy Hall, weapons raised and ready to fire, until their bodies were riddled with bullets by Garland’s team.
“Don’t mess with Texas,” Garland mumbled to himself with a smile.
PART FOUR
All Is Not Well
Chapter 48
December 13
National Guard Armory
Roswell, New Mexico
Holloway and his boys had begun to wear out their welcome in Roswell, New Mexico. Former Staff Sergeant Holloway wanted to let his men blow off some steam before they joined the rest of their comrades in the Lightning Death Squads. Roswell was a stop he intended to make to hook up with an old girlfriend, but she was long gone when he arrived. Fortunately for Holloway and his crew, there were plenty of marginally willing substitutes.
During their several days of debauchery, he’d contemplated what was in store for them next. Frankly, he wasn’t sure how he’d be received or utilized in what appeared to be a more structured command-and-control environment within the DPRK’s commandos.
Granted, many of the North Koreans who’d entered the U.S. over the years had adopted their American surroundings as their own, some even abandoning their posts, so to speak, to lead normal American lives. The ones who had become loyal to him in Fullerton sought a criminal livelihood, but they were still beholden to the Lightning Death Squads, which had trained them for this mission.
Holloway was a leader of men. Late in his career as a drill sergeant, he’d turned the Afghans into fighting machines. He’d done the same for the Fullerton Boyz gang, most of whom were traveling to Carlsbad to reunite with him. They’d fight together, but their agenda would be different from those maniacally loyal North Koreans. He didn’t have a dog in the hunt in this us versus them fight between North Korea and the U.S. He only cared about one thing—what was best for Holloway.
Once he arrived at Carlsbad Caverns, he intended to make a play to form his own unit, made up of his people, to enter Texas with reckless abandon. First, Holloway felt he would need to prove himself as the only Anglo amongst these Korean killers.
As they spent the last several days drinking and abusing the local women of Roswell, he also studied the National Guard Armory, which was located less than a mile from the neighborhood they’d infiltrated. Perhaps, he decided, the best way to endear himself to these North Koreans was to come bearing gifts.
The armory was located on the outskirts of town near the Roswell Airport. Two charred and destroyed aircraft lay across the field nearby, victims of the EMP attack as they attempted to land. The cockpit of a SkyWest flight from Denver landed within a hundred feet of the armory, crashing into a rental-car building.
When Holloway had observed the armory the first day of their arrival in Roswell, he thought the facility had been abandoned. There was no activity whatsoever. The grounds of the complex were simple, with only a single block-and-brick building surrounded by a chain-link fence.
Within the fence were plain white government-looking sedans and several camouflaged vehicles, including older model troop transports. Plus, there was a soft-top Jeep, which was so old, he surmised, that it could only be used for local parades. He was ready to trade in his ragtag, Mad Max fleet for something more official looking. The Roswell Armory might help in that regard.
Holloway, however, knew enough about the impact of EMPs to know that these out-of-service trucks might be the start of a Welcome Wagon package to be delivered to his new North Korean buddies. The gifts that would keep on givin’, he hoped, were located inside the building.
At the end of the second day, an olive-drab green military police vehicle, an older Chevy Suburban, arrived at the facility. Two uniformed MPs entered the building, stayed about fift
een minutes, then immediately left. Holloway made a note of the time and made a point to return on day three.
Like clockwork and with typical military promptness, the MPs arrived again. They entered the building, conducted their business, and within fifteen minutes, they were locking up and on their way.
“Today is the day, gentlemen,” announced Holloway early that morning as he walked through the house they’d occupied for five days. He’d studied the routine each day and was confident in his plan. “Get these skanks out of here, sober up, and get ready for our next mission. Today, at sixteen hundred, we’re going shopping.”
The snow had begun to melt and the skies were clearing, placing Holloway in a good mood. He missed the Southern California sunshine, although living in a nuclear wasteland was not very appealing to him.
He had plenty of men to overpower the two MPs, whom he anticipated arriving at the same time as the day before. They would still need the element of surprise; otherwise the military policemen could lock themselves in the armory until help arrived.
Holloway had noticed the MPs’ demeanor during his surveillance each afternoon. They usually approached the entrance cautiously, with their weapons drawn from their holsters. But like branch managers who have a tendency to lower their guard at the end of a long day when they exit their bank, the MPs showed their vulnerability by locking up after their inspection with their weapons holstered and their backs to the parking lot. That would be his team’s opportunity to pounce.
They took a circuitous route around the side of the building adjacent to the crashed airplane in order to avoid leaving footprints in the snow. Once they were there, they waited and listened for the arrival of the MPs. Holloway checked his watch, a Rolex Mariner he’d stolen from a dead man—one he’d murdered and robbed, of course. He heard the sound of their truck’s exhaust system as it approached from Roswell. Moments later, it pulled to a stop in front of the building. It was four o’clock. Right on time.
