by Bobby Akart
Sook looked down and began to cry. Duncan didn’t know what to do. He had never poured his heart out like that to a woman before. Being vulnerable had not been an option in this soldier’s hardened heart.
“Duncan, I have fallen in love with you,” Sook blurted out her feelings.
Duncan fought back tears that he hadn’t experienced since Dallas died. “I love you too.”
Suddenly, the tender moment was ruined as gunfire erupted in the valley below them, spooking Sook’s horse and throwing her into the snow.
“Sook, Sook! Are you okay?” asked Duncan as he frantically dismounted and rushed to her side.
Her body didn’t move as she lay in the snow. The gunfire continued, but Duncan ignored it as he dropped to his knees.
Sook groaned a little and then opened her eyes. “That was very rude.”
When she smiled, Duncan began to laugh. He spontaneously kissed her, which caught her off guard. Her eyes grew larger, and then she pushed her head off the snow-covered ground. She kissed him back.
Duncan and Sook had fallen in love in the middle of the apocalypse. Unfortunately, there was no time for roses, chocolates, or romantic dinners. The gunfire continued, and Duncan, who would never stop being a soldier, knew that duty called.
“Stay here,” he instructed before giving Sook another lingering kiss. He retrieved his rifle and jogged through the fresh snow toward a cliff overlooking the highway below.
Chapter 42
December 9
Truth or Consequences, New Mexico
The famous New York Yankee catcher, Yogi Berra, was known for creatively mangling the English language with quotes that strangely made sense, in an odd sort of way. As Duncan moved through the few remaining trees to a bluff overlooking the interstate several hundred feet below him, he caught a glimpse of the source of the gunfire and muttered aloud one of Berra’s most well-known—it’s déjà vu all over again.
This time, however, it was a military convoy under attack by gunmen. Duncan quickly assessed the situation. Three M35 deuce-and-a-half transports were being escorted by Humvees to their front and rear. The large camouflaged cargo trucks were stalled in the middle of the northbound land of Interstate 25, with their occupants huddled on the far side from Duncan’s point of view.
He scanned the terrain below him, knowing the source of the gunfire was somewhere between his perch on the bluff and the interstate. Using his rifle’s scope, he followed a service road adjacent to the highway. The rock outcroppings obstructed his view as he tried to pinpoint the source of the fire.
Frustrated, he moved to his right along the bluff, careful not to lose his footing in the wet snow. This was not a scenic overlook with safety rails. A slip meant a deadly tumble of three hundred feet down the rocky slope to his death.
This wasn’t his fight, but it was his country under assault. Duncan ignored the risks and moved laterally along the bluff, constantly checking his position in relation to the battle. He was moving farther away, but the angle was allowing him a better view of the service road and the source of the automatic gunfire.
An explosion occurred as the left side tires of the lead Humvee were shot out. Emboldened by their success, the attackers shot out the tires on the last of the M35s in line. The convoy was now stalled and, from the looks of things, outgunned.
Duncan used his scope again to search the valley. There! Barely visible beneath the rock formations were two vehicles parked parallel to the road, nose to tail. He could make out several sets of legs lying in prone positions nestled in the thick bed of snow, using rocks and a guardrail as cover. Because the shooters had the high ground, the military personnel escorting the convoy couldn’t get a good shot at them.
However, Duncan could. He eased to the edge of the bluff. He slowly lowered his body and crawled on his belly to the edge, spreading his legs wide, then used his feet to dig into the snow for stability. After wiggling his body back and forth to create a comfortable place in the snow, he steadied his rifle to begin shooting.
The angle and the obstacles did not afford him a very good shot at his targets, but the goal was not necessarily to eliminate the threat, but rather, to provide the convoy an equalizer. As far as Duncan was concerned, if he could chase off the gunmen, it would be a victory.
He began firing at the attackers’ legs. The .338 Lapua Magnum rounds soared through the air, with each two-hundred-fifty grain bullet tearing up the snow and pavement as they struck around the shooters. A glancing blow wounded one of the shooters, and a mad scramble for cover ensued.
As the men sought the protection of their vehicles, Duncan sent round after round into the roofs and windshields of the old SUVs.
He switched to his fifth, and last, magazine. When he and Park had opened the rifle case to reveal the weapon intended to kill Kim Jong-un, he thought the fifty rounds of .338 ammunition would be more than sufficient to make the kill shot and get the two men to the extraction point. Circumstances changed that, and he was now down to his last ten bullets. He would need to use them wisely.
Duncan dropped his head to the ground as several rounds fired by his prey stitched the rocky face of the bluff. They were returning fire, although now the attackers were caught in a quandary of their own. The convoy’s soldiers began to return fire upon the men. It was the attackers who were now pinned down between Duncan’s powerful Barrett and the automatic fire of the soldiers’ M4s.
The battle had reached a turning point for the attackers. Their sporadic shooting in both Duncan’s and the convoy’s direction indicated their heart was no longer in the fight. Duncan had a decision to make as well. Do I spend my last ten rounds defending others?
More bullets were sent in his direction, this time flying just over his head, tearing the bark off the pine trees behind him.
Decision made. Duncan fired back, again breaking out the glass windows of the trucks, sending bits of glass all over the men hiding behind them.
After a moment in which the attackers paused their return fire, a hail of gunfire headed toward him. Duncan pulled back from the edge of the bluff slightly to allow the bullets to whiz by. He could feel the displaced air as they flew past.
Duncan was angry now. These guys should give it up. He crawled forward and saw the men scrambling between the vehicles to wedge themselves against the bluff. He fired again and again.
This time, one of the bullets caught a body part, and the scream of agony could be heard from Duncan’s position.
He decided to continue to bring the heat. His shots might not kill, but they could certainly drive home a point. Give it up!
Duncan fired three more times, using strategically placed shots that might ricochet off the trucks and near the hiding attackers. Then he waited.
The troops with the convoy stopped firing as well, most likely because they couldn’t see the targets from their vantage point. Duncan focused, waiting for an opportunity to fire again.
The engines abruptly started on the trucks, and there was a mad scramble for the attackers to pile into them. Duncan only had a few more rounds to unleash, but he saved them. He couldn’t risk giving up his final bullets to shoot at taillights.
The vehicles sped off, out of Duncan’s view and away from the trailing bullets sent in their direction by the troops. The battle appeared to be over.
Duncan carefully backed away from the edge and stood on the bluff overlooking the battlefield. Several soldiers set about changing the damaged tires on their vehicles. One of them slowly walked in Duncan’s direction. He was carrying a bullhorn and binoculars.
The man scanned the bluff, and Duncan raised his arm to wave. The man raised the bullhorn and shouted to Duncan, “I’d like you to come down here, friend. Allow me to personally thank you for your help!”
Duncan thought about it for a moment. While he appreciated being recognized for his efforts, he would be exposing Sook to a group of Americans who might not appreciate her being in their country. Also, Banda had warned him that mar
tial law had been declared and weapons were being confiscated. He only had a few rounds left for the Barrett, and he couldn’t afford to lose them.
“Come on down! Let me shake your hand. At the very least, let me reimburse you for the ammo you used to save our collective butts!”
Duncan felt better about approaching the convoy. He hustled back to where he’d left Sook and found her dutifully watching over the horses. The two of them would need to talk further about their kiss and how they felt about one another, but Duncan decided to put off the conversation until after they greeted the convoy.
Twenty minutes later, Duncan and Sook emerged on the interstate and slowly rode in the direction of the convoy, which had just completed replacing the damaged tires. As they drew closer, two soldiers rushed in their direction with their weapons raised.
Duncan, who had slung his rifle over his shoulder to appear nonthreatening, held his arms high and nodded to Sook, instructing her to do the same. He hoped he wouldn’t regret this decision.
Two more soldiers came around the last Humvee in line and trotted to catch up with the armed personnel. Duncan decided to speak up.
“Easy, fellas, we were invited by the officer with the bullhorn. I’m the guy from up there.”
They began to lower their rifles even before they were instructed to do so by their commander.
“Lower your weapons, gentlemen. This man is one of us, a true patriot.”
Chapter 43
December 10
Carlsbad, New Mexico
A nation-state like North Korea that spent most of its gross domestic product on its military had plenty of personnel to conduct war games and imagine various attack scenarios. A decade prior, the thought of invading the United States was considered, but discarded as a pipe dream. But as the DPRK continued to develop its nuclear weapons program until it was on par with other nations, it then focused its resources on expanding its regular army to include its special operations forces. These elite commando units were dispatched to North America to infiltrate the U.S. if the opportunity arose to wreak havoc.
With the initiation of the EMP attack, Kim Jong-un’s Lightning Death Squads leapt into action. They positioned themselves throughout the U.S. to continue the DPRK’s assault on their nemesis.
The nuclear attack a week later, while unexpected by the Lightning Death Squad’s commanders, was uniformly welcomed by the tens of thousands of North Korean operatives who were embedded in America.
The nuclear detonations were a setback for the DPRK’s plans for America. Unfortunately, thousands of their elite forces perished in the nuclear attacks. They were, however, considered heroes. Besides, their numbers were being replenished with reinforcements entering through Mexican ports and across the U.S. southern border, as well as through already established routes in Canada.
Most of the DPRK commanders in the United States were unaware of the devastation inflicted upon their homeland of North Korea by the American nuclear retaliatory strikes. Communications via satellite telephone with their superiors tucked underground near Pyongyang had ceased, but that was not unusual. There was a contingency plan for this, and a new hierarchy of commanders on the ground was established.
When Commander Kyoung-Joo Lee, the senior officer of the Lightning Death Squads in North America, left St. Louis, he was tasked with gathering together their special operations forces to infiltrate Texas.
Their first goal was to reunite with thousands of DPRK operatives located in major cities in Texas. Next, they were to do what the satellite-deployed EMPs had failed to do—take down the Texas power grid.
By the time Lee reached Carlsbad Caverns in New Mexico, a predetermined rally point for new commandos entering from Mexico, he’d been advised that he had been elevated to commander of all North Korean units within North America. He was no longer just a loyal commander of the Lightning Death Squads. Lee had been elevated to the status of a general and was now in command of the entire operation to deal the final blow to America.
Lee had received this glorious news just before his group reached Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. For the six hundred miles prior to that, he and his men had driven from St. Louis with reckless abandon. With adrenaline pumping through their veins, they murdered everyone who crossed their paths. The killing inspired his men and ensured there would be no eyewitnesses to a group of North Korean commandos on U.S. soil.
His decision to attack a military convoy at Truth or Consequences was a risky one. Lee was already behind schedule, as he had to drive farther to the west than he desired. The roads along the western border of Texas were clogged with refugees, making travel slow and burdensome. He and his handpicked team of six had just been notified of his promotion. As a result, they vowed to be cautious and not expose their new leader to a deadly bullet or a crazed mob.
When they came upon the military convoy by accident, he considered avoiding a conflict by simply pulling to the side and allowing the convoy to pass. Then he considered what a great prize this convoy might be. Not only could they commandeer any supplies and weapons being transported, but the U.S.-marked military vehicles could provide them an edge as they traveled through West Texas toward the population centers of Dallas, Austin, San Antonio, and Houston.
He’d expected a fight with the soldiers who guarded the convoy, but he had total confidence in his elite warriors. What he didn’t expect was the sniper who had pinned them down during the attack.
Lee didn’t think it was plausible for a military sniper to guard this convoy every mile of its travels. No, the shooter was in the wrong place at the wrong time from Lee’s perspective. He and his team were lucky to escape the bullets raining down upon them.
When the shooter stopped, rather than press the fight, he decided it was time to move on and stay focused on his task. But still, he wondered who the shooter was and how he’d come to be on that ridge hovering over him.
After their escape, they descended upon the North Korean encampment southwest of Carlsbad. Located in the Carlsbad Caverns National Park near the famous caves, the location was chosen by the DPRK war planners because the one hundred plus caves would provide them cover from nuclear fallout, as well as suitable shelter while their forces regrouped.
Carlsbad Caverns was known for its deep rocky canyons, desert wildlife, and the dozens of caves formed within the limestone cliffs. Lee and his men knew nothing of the area, opting to follow road signs as they approached from the northeast. From radio communications, he knew that many of his commandos had already arrived and secured the largest of the caves as their base of operations.
Perimeter security had been established around the Big Room, as it was called by the National Park Service. The natural limestone chamber measured nearly four thousand feet long and six hundred feet wide.
He was greeted by the security team with the highest respect afforded generals in his homeland. It was an odd feeling for him at first, as he always considered himself a soldier’s soldier. However, he understood the importance of hierarchy and chain of command. Every North Korean did. Yet he always considered himself on an equal level with his men, willing to kill or be killed on the battlefield alongside them.
Lee was escorted up a path by several soldiers, some of whom ran ahead of his entourage. When they reached the top of a steep incline, his team slowed their pace, allowing Lee to enter the Big Room a few paces ahead of them.
The scene shocked Lee as he stopped in awe of the reception. Hundreds of men began to rise to attention, immediately providing their new commander a snappy salute. In that moment, Lee transitioned from loyal commander of one element of the Lightning Death Squads to their new general.
He managed a smile as he returned the salute. He was up to the task.
Chapter 44
December 10
Office of the Adjutant General
Austin, Texas
“Madam President, they were like cockroaches,” lamented Deur as he attempted to explain to the new president of Texas
about his difficulties in rounding up the refugees who’d breached the border crossing. “This was a professionally coordinated attack. Our guardsmen who survived the initial stages reported the use of silenced automatic weapons and the discovery of a dozen heavy-duty bolt cutters used to breach our fencing.”
“Kregg, what’s done is done, and now I have to deal with the optics,” interrupted President Burnett. “For now, I want to keep abreast of your progress in hunting down these lowlifes. Dead or alive, I don’t care. Got it?”
Before Deur could respond, the president disconnected the call. He was frustrated because they had lost a lot of good personnel during the melee. Today, as the sun rose, the grisly scene was on full display for media cameras. His men had accomplished their goal of clearing the bridge completely, but he wondered at what cost.
His phone rang again, and he let out an audible groan, as he expected it was the president to give him another earful. He answered and was relieved that it was his TX-QRF commander from Sheppard.
“Sir, we have a situation,” the commander said immediately without even so much as a hello. “A group of armed men have stormed the campus of Midwestern State University in Wichita Falls. Based upon our initial analysis, they appear to be part of the refugees who succeeded in crossing the bridge last night.”
Deur fell back into his office chair and spun around to his computer terminal. He brought up a map of Wichita Falls and then zoomed in on the Midwestern State campus.
“Okay, Commander, I have a map pulled up here. Tell me what you know.”
“Yes, sir, of course. The majority of students, faculty, and personnel at Midwestern are Texans. After the EMP hit and the state of emergency was declared, they returned to their homes around the state. Some of the out-of-state students accompanied their friends, but several hundred chose to remain in the dorms at the university.”
