Project Terminus: Destiny

by Nathan Combs

“I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’m hoping that Anna, Stormy, and I can come home and that Horst will be allowed to live in peace.”

  Wade looked Noah in the eye. “I normally make the final decisions, Noah. You know that. In this particular instance, I’m going to defer. The vote has to be unanimous. Those in favor, raise your hand.”

  All hands shot into the air except for Bill’s.

  “Opposed?”

  Bill’s hand went up halfway.

  Wade said, “Bill?”

  Bill stood. “If Noah says Nina’s gone and Anna’s Anna again, I’m okay with that, because I like her a lot. And I know damn well Noah wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize us. I’m not sold on Horst. That’s a stretch.”

  Noah stood. “Just so I haven’t misunderstood, does this mean Anna and I can come home?”

  Wade grinned. “That’s what it means, Noah.”

  Noah exhaled heavily. “Thank you. Anna will be thrilled. Nervous, yeah, but she’ll be beyond excited to see you all again.” He turned to face Bill. “I understand your position regarding Horst. I felt the same way until he proved to me that he wasn’t a threat. He really isn’t. He doesn’t want to live here. He just wants to spend the rest of his life without looking over his shoulder.”

  Bill asked, “Did he ask you to intercede on his behalf?”

  “No. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”

  Wade shook Noah’s hand. “You’re home, Noah. Unfortunately, your return isn’t going to be all that joyous. We’re about to be invaded. Randal will fill you in on the way. Send Anna back immediately. Maggie, as soon as she arrives, examine her and the baby. I’m sending a second vehicle. Noah, I want you to take Randal and Bill to see Horst. If that goes well and he’s willing to help us defend against the invasion, bring him here, and we’ll reset the battle plan.” He looked at his watch. “We’ll meet again at 1930.”

  The trip north took forty minutes.

  Seeing Noah, Randal, and Bill jumping out of the Hummer grinning told Anna everything she needed to know. Randal scooped her up and hugged her and twirled her around. Bill took his turn, and Anna stood, sobbing tears of joy.

  When Noah informed her that she had to return to New Fort Terminus now, her face crashed. She didn’t say anything, but she was clearly reluctant to leave without him.

  Noah took Randal aside and said, “She’s scared, Randal.”

  Randal nodded. “Yeah. I get that. She goes when we go. How do we approach Horst without getting our asses shot off?”

  Noah said, “Give me a sat phone. You and Bill wait here. I’ll ride in, talk to him, and call you.”

  Twenty-five minutes later, Horst was face to face with the man he feared more than any man who had ever lived.

  Bill glared at Horst. “Where’d you get the ugly pills, Horst? You look like dog shit.”

  Even though he was petrified, Horst was still Horst. “You’re not exactly the poster boy for GQ, Bill.”

  Bill glared at him, then said, “That TL I carved on your forehead’s lookin’ good.” He got into Horst’s grill. “We agreed to meet with you because Noah trusts you. I don’t. Prove me wrong.”

  “I can’t prove anything. My impromptu meeting with Nina was a game changer. When she died, left, whatever, the old Horst went with her. I wasn’t always an asshole, Bill. Before the collapse, I was a damned good officer, a good husband, and a great dad. Did I go off the rails? No doubt about it. But my train’s back on track. I harbor no ill will toward you or anyone else. I’ve closed the book on that chapter of my life.”

  “Nice speech.”

  “Why would I lie?”

  “Because breathing and lying are synonymous with you.”

  “You’re wrong. That was the old Horst. I’ve been aware of New Fort Terminus for a long time. We were in Pahokee. I moved here because I didn’t want a confrontation, and since you were searching the surrounding area for supplies, I knew it was a matter of time until you found us. Maybe I should have gone to Orlando.”

  Both were quiet for a full minute, glaring at each other.

  Randal broke the silence. “Okay, Horst. Noah vouches for you, and his opinion carries a lot of weight. You’ve pretty much convinced me too. Answer one question.”

  Horst nodded.

  “Assume for a minute we agreed to a live and let live policy. Allowed you to visit for trade. What would you be willing to do in return?”

  “Anything within reason.”

  “Would you be willing to fight to defend that alliance?”

  “Against whom?”

  “The fact is, we’re about to be invaded by a group of lunatics from Texas. They call themselves the Texas Nation. They have armor and air assets.”

  “Motherfucker.”

  Bill said, “Yeah, they’ll be here in a week. Maybe less.”

  “How many are there?”

  “Twenty thousand.”

  Horst was silent for a second, then grinned, “I’m gonna need more ammo.”

  The lights in the NFT command center flickered on and off with every lightning flash. Frayed nerves jangled with every wall-shaking thunderclap.

  With the addition of Noah, Anna, and Horst, ten people listened to Wade’s summation.

  “Tyler called an hour ago. Chris blew the Interstate-10 bridge in Beaumont, and that slowed them down for half a day, but they’re back on the road. They’ll be in Louisiana within the hour. I’m guesstimating we have between two and five days. If they send a probe, it’ll be less, so let’s go over the game plan again. Our watchers and sniper teams are positioned along I-10, from I-75 east to Jacksonville, and south down I-75, I-95, and the turnpike. Every relevant intersection has an observer in place.

  “When Tyler ascertains which highway they’re going to use, all sniper teams will converge, harass, and attempt to cut the head off the snake. Targets of opportunity will be Shelton, McNulty, or other identifiable command officers.”

  He looked around the table at their faces.

  “They have drones, type unknown. Likely Ravens with a five-mile capability. Everyone is to remain undercover. All vehicles will be camouflaged or hidden from view. No fires of any kind. Any questions so far?”

  There were none.

  “We anticipate their armor will split from the civilian convoy before the assault. We also believe civilians will be embedded within the armored column. If they do that, that’s a problem. Damned if we do, damned if we don’t. If at all possible, we will not fire on those units, but if necessary, we will take them out.”

  He took a drink of water, then addressed Horst. “Send your noncombatants here before the inception of hostilities. You’re tasked with guarding US-27 South in Sebring. Your forces will be split into two groups of 100. Stagger them on both sides of the highway. You’ll have one Stryker, three LAWS, and one Stinger. You’ll fight a delaying action, slowing them down while falling back, and hooking up with Cole at the intersection of US-27 and Highway 70.”

  He paused and raised his eyebrows.

  Horst nodded.

  Wade turned to Cole. “Cole, you’ll have 300 men, one Stryker, one Bradley, two Javelins, and two Stingers. You’ll also have a Raven drone so you can view the battlefield and deploy Horst as needed. While unlikely, you’ll also guard against an attack from the west.”

  Noah raised his hand.

  “Yeah, Noah?”

  “Why don’t we mine the bridges over Mobile Bay? Maybe we could take out their armor while they’re on it?”

  “If we had enough C-4, we would. We don’t.”

  “Anybody else? No? Bill, in case they attack from the east, you’ll deploy in Clewiston. You’ll have 300 men, two mortars, two Strykers, the other Bradley, two Stingers, four Javelins, and a Raven drone. If they don’t come your way, you will assist with the defense of the fort.”

  Bil
l said, “Got it.”

  Wade continued. “It’s unlikely they can assault us from the southwest, but Chris will post in Labelle, just in case. Son, you’ll have fifty troops and one Javelin.”

  Chris acknowledged by nodding his head.

  “Randal will pilot the Apache, and Robbie Thompson will copilot. Their birds are not accounted for, so they’re a wild card. We’re going to hold the Apache in reserve until their choppers enter the battle.”

  He turned to Noah. “You will protect the noncombatant safe area. You’ll have two mortars, two fifties, and 100 men. Needless to say, if they get past the rest of us, do not allow them to breach those buildings.”

  He looked at each face directly and asked if anyone had a question.

  No one did, so he resumed. “I will remain here with twenty-five men as the last line of defense for New Fort Terminus. I will have one Stryker, one Javelin, and two Stingers.” He took another drink of water. “Kirilov’s gone, but whoever’s in charge is likely capable of carrying out his battle plan, so it won’t be half-assed. Bottom line? Expect the unexpected. Did I miss anything? Anyone?”

  Maggie said, “Wade, this may be nothing but…” She stopped talking and stood still.

  “What is it, Mags?”

  Her face reflected her concern. “Jim Callahan just returned from Corpus, and he’s sick. I mean really sick.”

  “Sick, how?”

  “He’s unable to breathe. Can’t swallow. He’s burning up. Shaking like a leaf. Meds aren’t helping.”

  “What is it?”

  She looked at the floor and said nothing.

  “Maggie?”

  “I’m sorry, Wade. I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Exodus

  Amid the civilian vehicles, McNulty was crammed like a bloated sardine in a small can in Shelton’s King Ranch Ford F-150.

  The father of a new nation babbled as he drove. “We’re coming up on Beaumont, David. We’ll be out of Texas in an hour. It’s the Exodus from Texas. Sounds biblical, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, indeed it does, Gabriel. However, since you do not believe in God, I find it ironic that you see a biblical parallel in our departure.”

  “Well, hell, David, I guess that’s true. How about The Texas Exodus? It slides right off the tongue and has no religious overtones. In fact, it sounds like a world-class movie. Yes, I like that, The Texas Exodus. The sequel can be Hello, Sunshine. No, wait…that’s stupid.”

  Shelton’s absurd babbling was making McNulty nauseous, and he rolled the passenger window down to breathe deeply of the cool fresh air of eastern Texas.

  Several miles out of Beaumont, the mile-long convoy ground to a halt and sat idling.

  Two minutes were all Shelton could tolerate. He called Foster on the sat phone. “What’s the delay, General?”

  “The bridge over Interstate ten is out in Beaumont. We’re searching for another way across the river.”

  “Out? What do you mean out? Out to lunch? Out at first? What?”

  Foster replied, “No, sir, more like a few pounds of C-4 took it out.”

  “You mean those terrorists blew the bridge?”

  “Yes, sir. That’s what I mean.”

  “Well, General, how long do I have to sit here breathing fumes?”

  “There are two other bridges. We’re checking them now. If they’re intact, maybe thirty minutes.”

  Shelton hung up.

  Foster shook his head and muttered, “Asshole.”

  Shelton was unstable, maybe insane. Foster was sure of that. He bemoaned Kirilov’s less than honorable discharge from the Texas Nation’s military and recalled that the general had believed the Floridians were a professional military group—precisely, Special Forces. Foster wanted nothing to do with SPEC OPS warriors and wondered how many other bridges he would have to circumnavigate before arriving in Florida. He also didn’t relish the thought of anti-armor missiles snaking out of the woods and blowing his ass to smithereens, so he sent a scout Humvee two miles ahead and moved his command vehicle from the lead Bradley to the third Stryker in the column.

  I can’t resign, and I can’t leave. There’s nowhere left on Earth for me to go. I’m screwed.

  It took eight hours for the convoy to travel from Beaumont to Slidell, Louisiana. The slow pace was enhanced by the absurdity of the reasons why. Bathroom breaks, vehicles running out of gas, breakdowns, minor accidents, one heart attack, and even a family fight reduced the average speed to the pace of a slow snail.

  As the day dragged on, Shelton grew increasingly hostile with every stoppage, and when the convoy halted in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, twenty-nine miles east of Slidell, what little patience he had was long gone. He ordered Foster to give the civilians an ultimatum. This was to be their last unscheduled stop. The bourgeois were to take care of all personal needs and ensure their vehicles were gassed.

  “If they even think of pulling over to pee, I’ll have their asses shot. If they have to go, they can piss in their cars.”

  Six hours later, the convoy shut down at the Florida Welcome Center outside of Pensacola.

  “Why did we pull over this time, General?”

  “We’re stopping for the night, sir.”

  “Stop, my ass, Foster. I’ll tell you when to stop.”

  “Sir, with all due respect, everyone needs a break. Plus, two civilians died and several others are sick. The doc wants to take a look at them. They also need to bury their dead.”

  “Fuck their dead, Foster.”

  “Yes, sir. Do you want me to tell them to leave the bodies by the side of the road?”

  Impertinent prick, Shelton thought. Then he said, “Christ on a crooked crutch. All right, Foster. Four hours.” He punched the end button and turned to McNulty. “Maybe we’ll get lucky, David, and the dumbest of the bourgeoisie will weed themselves out.”

  McNulty didn’t answer.

  “David, did you hear me?”

  McNulty muttered a feeble “Yes.”

  “What’s wrong?’

  There was no response.

  He grabbed McNulty’s stump. “David?”

  “I do not feel well, Gabriel.”

  McNulty clutched his chest, his chest heaved, and he slumped to the side.

  The Florida moon was huge, and it caused Shelton to think about slavering werewolves. One was a dead ringer for his mother. A chill made its way down his spine, and he stuck his thumb in his mouth. Then he thought about McNulty, whose sudden and unexpected death was annoying. He sat for several moments, then called Foster back and told him to get the doctor and bring him over to his truck.

  The doctor certainly wasn’t helpful. “Mr. Shelton, I think his heart gave out.”

  The next thought you have will be your first, you moron. More than likely he died from a cholesterol overdose. Fat fuck. Good riddance. He turned to Foster standing silently by. “How many deaths have there been since we left?”

  “Mr. McNulty makes six, sir.”

  Shelton grunted. “So, six dumbasses are dead. So what?”

  The doctor looked embarrassed.

  Foster didn’t respond. He simply stared off to the east.

  “You’re not much of a conversationalist, General. Did you double-check the highway 58 bridge over the bay to Gulf Breeze?”

  “Yes. It wasn’t blown, but it’s impassable. A section is down. We have no choice but to detour north into Alabama.”

  “How long before we get back on I-10?”

  “Most of the day, sir.”

  Shelton glared at Foster. “Show me the route of the invasion again.”

  Foster pulled the map and spread it out over the hood of Shelton’s truck. “As you ordered, sir, we’re following General Kirilov’s plan. After the Alabama detour,
we’ll pick up US-90 north of I-10 to Tallahassee, then take US-27 south to Perry. We’ll take that to Orlando, and take US-441 to Yeehaw Junction and invade from—”

  Shelton said, “For clarification, General, we’re not invading, we’re relocating. It just so happens that a bunch of derelicts are occupying the area we’re relocating to. Go over the assault on the enemy compound.”

  “Yes, sir. Per your orders, I’ve made changes to General Kirilov’s original plan. The Yeehaw Junction force has been increased to 3,000 men. I had to place the additional troops in pickups. They will be embedded with the civilian vehicles, again, per your orders. With your permission, I’d like to keep the civilian population in Yeehaw until the battle is over.”

  Shelton waved his hand. “Whatever. What’s the latest on the Gulf force?”

  “They should make port in Ft. Myers tomorrow morning. They’ll be ready to go.”

  Shelton stood staring at him but didn’t respond.

  “Is there anything else, Sir?”

  “Maybe we should leave the dumbass bourgeois here. They could come down when the battle’s over.”

  “It’s your call, sir.”

  Shelton thought for a minute, then waved his hand, dismissively, “Fuck ’em. Get this show back on the road, General.”

  The mood in the Powwow Room was somber.

  Maggie gave her assessment of the unknown sickness that had taken Callahan’s life two hours prior, then said, “We may end up battling an enemy more dangerous than the Texas Nation.”

  “How many others are sick, Mags?”

  “Callahan’s wife, Janet, and two more. Both are elderly.”

  “Same symptoms?”

  “Yes. They’re all having difficulty breathing and swallowing. They also have high fevers and chills. Janet is projectile vomiting. It looks like a particularly virulent new bug.” She shrugged. “One case doesn’t tell us much about its lethality, but Jim died less than two days after the first symptoms appeared.”

  Although no one spoke, the strained facial muscles and obvious fear on their faces spoke volumes.

  Stuart broke the silence. “I hate to be the bearer of more bad news, but Mother Nature looks like she’s going to throw her hat in the ring.”