Uprising

by Chris Harris

  As they began to file out, she called the general back, waiting for the room to empty until she spoke. “General, you have my apologies. Thank you for your bravery in speaking up, I know you only have the country’s best interests at heart. If you could remain here I am going to call the Russian president and I will need your council.”

  Six Hours Later

  “Prime Minister, it’s remarkable, your speech has worked!” one of her ministers exclaimed. “Most of the rioting has stopped. Police forces are reporting that they fizzled out not long after your speech. But here is the incredible thing. Some got stopped not by the police, but ordinary members of the public who put themselves between the police and the rioters and basically talked them out of it.”

  The last hours had seemingly not only galvanized her and her ministers into action, but the whole country. The Queen had approved her plan to commit her armed forces to the fray.

  After talking to the Russian president, a four-way communication between the United Kingdom, the Russians, the remnants of the United States’ leadership, and Canada immediately started as to how the British could belatedly offer what resources they could bring to aid the fight.

  Petrov was keeping them fully informed on the status of the US president. She had been found some hours ago and was being protected by a combination of Russian troops and local resistance fighters who were trying to get her to a safe location. Reports were sketchy as it was an ongoing situation.

  General Sir Anthony Lloyd walked into the room. “Ma’am, I have just had a call from General Welch at Cheyenne Mountain. He is asking for our help on a matter,” he announced jauntily.

  “Of course, what is it?”

  “They are currently working on how to get all the troops they have overseas back home. Apart from Japan and Korea, the biggest concentrations of their forces are here in the UK and Germany. The UK is not a problem as most of the forces are USAF and they can fly themselves out of here should they wish to. In Germany, though, they have a large contingent of ground troops and if they are going to take back their country, it’s ground forces they need, not a bunch of fly boys.” He paused, reaching up to rub away the threatening onset of a headache before resuming his report.

  “The Germans are kicking up a right stink about allowing them to leave. Personally, I think they do not want to be seen picking sides in a war they have decided to sit out of. There is not a lot they can do about it, but the general thinks it could get ugly and he wants to, if at all possible, keep as much of what they are planning to do away from Chinese eyes and influence. He is asking to bump up the pressure to the highest level and as the president is currently indisposed, you are, so to speak, the next in line, ma’am.”

  She turned to an aide. “Get me the German Chancellor on the phone, please.”

  Ten minutes later she smiled as she put the phone down. It was not often you could disregard the niceties of official diplomatic talk and tell a fellow leader of another country what you thought of them and the consequences of standing in the way of an attempt to stop China.

  She called the general back into her office. “Please call General Welch and tell him the troops will be flying to wherever he needs them, just as soon as I tell British Airways to put all their available planes at the government’s disposal for the foreseeable future.” As he left the room he smiled when he overheard the conversation between a few aides comparing her to Margaret Thatcher. He saw that as a good thing.

  Chapter

  Nine

  Beijing, China

  The generals and ministers filed into the president’s office and sat down at their allocated seats around the table.

  He sat at the head of table silently. None dared to look in his direction. The reports coming in from the United States over the past few hours had alarmed them all.

  With the vagaries of the international clock most had gone to bed with the news that the American surrender was a formality. They were only waiting for the press and dignitaries to gather at a location being prepared so they could record their victory to be broadcast around the world.

  Most were woken up by nervous aides during the night to hear the news that unknown paratroopers were landing, and missiles were bombarding various locations across a country they had been told was pacified and in their control.

  The president shouted angrily and beat his fist on the table. “You told me we had won the victory of all victories.”

  He let that statement hang in the air. “Which one of you is going to tell me that the Russians have landed on American soil? That cruise missiles were launched from both Russian and American ships that I was informed our glorious navy would be able to keep out of range of interfering with our efforts?”

  The head of the navy looked sharply up. “Sir, I informed the committee that the navy would be able to protect the fleet that is currently heading toward America. We have contained the American Pacific fleet which is leaderless anyway—our strategic strikes on Hawaii destroyed their command structure.

  “The Russian fleet is another matter. We are not at war with them. My ships are keeping the ones that approach away but I must remind you that the bulk of our ships are concentrated around the invasion fleet. It is impossible to track all of the ships that could pose a threat.”

  The president sat, his eyes looking around everyone in the room. “Yet still they fight back. Someone is leading them. They may be contained but don’t any of you think that their naval inactivity is due to the fact they are biding their time, rebuilding their strength, waiting for most opportune moment to fight back?” He paused, waiting to see if anyone was following his logic. “Are you so simple, you think that because we have crippled their command structure they will sit there and do nothing? The snake will grow a new head soon. You have failed to take their command center buried under the mountain. I was assured we would be able to. We need that facility if we are to control the country and its nuclear weapons. Then the rest of the world will quake in the shadow we will cast over them. From all your initial success, all I am getting now is failure.”

  Eyes were averted as no one wanted to take responsibility for that failure. “This victory needs to be quick and absolute, the whole plan relies on it.”

  Leaning forwards, he asked the room, “I do not want to hear your excuses about these setbacks. They are just bee stings that hurt us briefly but will not stop us. When will the surrender be signed?”

  No one could look him in the eye. “What are you not telling me?” he snapped when he saw the sudden uncomfortable movements of shame and knowledge around some at the table. He pointed at the general in overall command of the ground forces. “You. Tell me now!”

  “Sir,” the general quailed slightly but tried to maintain his composure. “The President of the United States is currently unaccounted for. In the chaos of the Russian invasion contact has been lost with Agent Fen Shu who was escorting her to the surrender ceremony. Our soldiers are scouring the city and we are pouring more in. The Russians are too few in number to hold out for long. Soon we will have wiped them all out and we will find where they sought shelter. I assure you she has a strong protection force chosen from the very best. They are safe somewhere that unfortunately they cannot communicate from.”

  “My niece is missing?”

  The room looked up in shock. They all knew that Fen Shu was his niece, but it had never been officially acknowledged before.

  The president flew into a rage. “You lose the president, you lose my niece, what else are you going to lose next? The United States of America? That cannot be allowed to happen.” He seethed in silence as he fought to control his anger and deliver his orders.

  “Advance the invasion plans. Send more soldiers. The enemy is fighting back, and they are getting help. We must end this before more decide to turn against us and join in. If any areas become too troublesome target them with another nuclear launch. They must learn the consequences of daring to defy us. Now get out and deliver to me the victor
y you promised.”

  The generals and ministers raced to the door to be first out of the room, lest they fall under the scrutiny of their president again. The plan they had all thought foolproof was falling apart. Their careers, their country, and their own lives depended on it succeeding. No cost was too great to make it happen. Orders were immediately sent out mobilizing more divisions. Any ships that were still available were ordered to the nearest ports to enable embarkation.

  The North Korean divisions, ready and waiting for orders from their Chinese masters, were commanded to set sail immediately from the ports where they had been quietly massing right under the continual scrutiny of the South Koreans and the Americans. The navy pleaded with them that it would be unwise to undertake such a task without a surface and underwater fleet for protection. The vessels would be as good as defenseless as they crossed the vast Pacific Ocean.

  Those pleas fell on deaf ears. They had been given orders and they were to be followed.

  The admiral in charge of the navy, still smarting from the dressing down from the president, began to understand that the fingers of blame would immediately point to him if the next wave of the invasion stalled. As the president had pointed out, they had crippled the navy’s command structure, but not the navy itself. The vastly powerful American Pacific fleet was still out there, licking their wounds. He knew they were there somewhere, but they had disappeared; steaming south into the vastness of the still, in places, uncharted Southern Pacific Ocean.

  The American submarines were also still out there somewhere. The Los Angeles-class, Sea Wolf, and Virginia-class fast attack submarines, that the Chinese had spent billions of dollars on developing measures to find and track after they had goaded the Chinese many times by appearing when least expected, had not been detected since this began. They were out there somewhere and no matter how many times the admiral explained it to his leaders, if they did not want to be found, they wouldn’t be. The Ohio-class ballistic missile submarines, each capable individually of bringing complete nuclear devastation to his country, were doing what they were designed to do: waiting silently, lurking undetected in the dark depths below the surface for the order to launch a counterattack.

  They were called a deterrent for good reason. The fact that they might or might not be just over the horizon, fully capable to reign death down from the skies at a single verified command was enough to strike fear into the bravest man. It was why the Chinese had invested hundreds of billions of dollars to increase their own detection and deterrent capabilities. Building more vessels and submarines. Stealing or at times developing their own technology to catch up with their great enemies’ capabilities. But no matter how impressive it all looked, all they were doing was playing catch up. The Americans and the Russians were continually developing weapons to keep themselves ahead in the game.

  The cost of the failure they would accuse him of would be quick. A brief trial and then a bullet to the brain, with his family given the final insult of being charged for the bullet.

  He secretly began making plans to ensure his own survival. Being head of the navy gave him control over all the industries that built, fed, equipped, and clothed it. The tribute he naturally and was expected to skim off the top, had made him a wealthy man. Not that he needed the money whilst he held the position. His position provided him with houses, servants, and his own personal jet and ship so he could tour his command at ease and in comfort.

  If he lost his position though, the wealth he had created would enable him and his family to live in opulent comfort for the rest of their days in some safe country, far from the reach of Chinese influence. Living long enough to enjoy it was his only concern.

  He’d gathered a few trusted aids, members of his own family he had given important roles to through nothing but self-serving nepotism. They all relied on him for their positions and future well-being, so their loyalty was unquestionable. Plans were made so he and his family could escape from the country at a moment’s notice. Access to his wealth was no problem. All he would need was a trip to his private bank in Switzerland.

  The general in overall charge of the ground forces, as soon as he left the meeting, issued orders to be sent to his regional commanders in the United States.

  The commanders of five of the six regions that the Chinese had divided America into received those orders. They were to advance their plans for controlling the local population. Though these hastily drafted orders were confusing to those who received them; they had been following the plan. The camps were quietly ridding the invaders of the excess population that were deemed unnecessary for their victory. The old and the infirmed were succumbing in great numbers to the virus. Their control was increasing geographically as an ever-growing number of cities, towns, and villages were garrisoned by their troops, spreading the supposed humanitarian aid they brought secured by soldiers, who immediately began the real mission of subjugation.

  Some did nothing, unable to see how they could do more than they were already doing at the current time. More soldiers were needed, and they would arrive soon, so they waited.

  Others more eager to please divided their forces more to advance the program. They reasoned that if one hundred soldiers could take a town then fifty would just have to work harder to achieve the same goal. The Chinese net of control did accelerate in places, but it left them dangerously weakened and exposed.

  One commander, with a more brutal streak, accelerated his extermination program. He had interpreted his orders that way. He needed to control the population, take away their strength, make them unable to revolt. Tens of thousands of captured military personnel, law enforcement officers, and anyone deemed to potentially be more of a threat than a help were in camps or former prisons emptied of their inmates, who lay in shallow mass graves close by.

  They were fed a carefully controlled, barely edible diet to further weaken and control them.

  The sick lying in hospitals or temporary aid stations set up in school gymnasiums or other large halls, had already started to be dealt with. They were going to die anyway so wasting manpower and resources on them was not efficient. The buildings were sealed up and once the last soldier had left, canisters containing poison gas were thrown in and the doors barred. He ordered the extermination of other camps. Not all of them, though, as they did provide the forced labor needed to clear up the damage caused by the aerial bombardment. The inmates of these camps were continually fed the lie that the work was necessary to help the humanitarian effort that the gracious Chinese government was providing.

  Whole camps, under the command of this one brutal commander went to sleep in their squalid quarters never to see another dawn.

  The sixth region did nothing. Its commander had been sentenced to die by firing squad and the agent who had yet to appoint his replacement was currently bound hand and foot with the president of the United States pointing a gun at her head.

  Chapter

  Ten

  Kentucky

  Leland, sat in a cabin deep in the Kentucky wilderness in the foothills of Black Mountain, felt secure for the first time since his escape from New York and his long and perilous journey to get to the place he knew well.

  Secure but angry.

  He had tried to reach Pittsburgh. There were Movement soldiers there who could help them. Having barely escaped New York before the bombs fell, he and the two former marines that had stuck with him, had nothing more than the weapons they carried and the magazines to feed them on their persons. They needed supplies and equipment and Pittsburgh was the nearest place he knew he could get them.

  After stealing a truck at gunpoint, they had headed west. The sight of three heavily armed and dangerously mean-looking battle-scarred men helped their journey. Stealing fuel and food from citizens who, if they tried to resist, were shot out of hand, they headed towards Pittsburgh. After approaching a roadblock outside the city, he realized they could go no further. Expecting it to be manned by a US military or even better a local mili
tia, they approached slowly but confidently. After all, what did they have to fear?

  Too late he saw that the soldiers approaching were wearing uniforms he never expected to see even on American soil.

  Not waiting to find out why soldiers from the People’s Republic of China were walking toward him, he slammed the truck into reverse and ordered his travelling companions to open fire. Incoming fire began to strike the truck as soon as the soldiers realized he was moving away from them. A line of bullets stitched the windscreen, the pain of a bullet creasing his skull making him scream in pain and anger as he ploughed the truck at full speed in reverse through the cars and debris that were littering the road. Fighting to keep the semi from jack-knifing, he kept trying to put as much distance as he could between them and their assailants.

  Bullets sparked and ricocheted as they struck the cab. Cobb, one of his travelling companions, was leaning from the passenger window firing magazine after magazine toward the enemy. Not in any real expectation of hitting any of them, but in the hope that the volume of lead he was putting down range would disturb their aim. As the distance increased the number of bullets hitting their receding target diminished proportionately. Concentrating fully on driving, he heard a scream of pain from beside him, but could not give it a moment’s thought. If he took his eye off the mirrors, he knew within seconds he would lose control and it would all be over.

  Rounding a bend, he knew they were out of the line of sight as the incoming fire dropped to zero. He slowed the truck and risked a glance at the others. Cobb was still leaning out of the window, his rifle held ready, but his other companion was slumped in his seat, both hands held to his throat trying to stem the flow of blood that pumped from a wound in his neck. He slammed the brakes on the truck, skidding it to a stop in a cloud of burning rubber. Reaching over and pulling his hands away from his throat, he examined the wound. Arterial blood spurted out, spraying the shattered windscreen. He knew straight away the wound, without immediate medical attention, was a killer. The man was drowning in his own blood as it filled his lungs, whilst the rest pumped out through his fingers as his hands desperately tried to stop it from leaving his body.