by Bobby Akart
“Purely selfish reasons that can never leave this room, understood?”
Everyone either nodded their head or replied yes, so Duncan continued. “I took the opportunity to speak with the guards assigned to Arnold Oil while we were in Odessa getting fuel. Granted, they were brief conversations, but their opinions were near unanimous. The fence won’t hold the refugees out much longer.”
“Are they going to bust through?” asked Riley.
“At some point, yes. People are dying on the other side, and they’re realizing there’s nothing to lose. Because I was still a civilian when I asked about this, the soldiers were hesitant to give me a straight answer.”
“About what, son?” Major interrupted with a question.
“I believe they have shoot-to-kill orders, especially after the situation north of Wichita Falls. The hostage situation at Midwestern didn’t help the refugees’ cause either. It just provided the administration an example to instill fear into any Texans living near the borders.”
“Duncan, are you saying you’d disobey the shoot-to-kill order?” asked Cooper.
“I don’t know, Coop. Here’s my problem. These folks are Americans, just like we were a month or so ago. Okay, so they break in, and out of desperation, they choose to loot and steal. Should our soldiers shoot them just because we believe they’re going to loot or steal?”
“Well, they’ve proven they’re capable,” replied Cooper dryly. “The bodies are piling up around our ranch too.”
“And they’re Texans,” interjected Riley. “These refugees will stop at nothing. What would we do if a pack of them came after our ranch?”
“We’d defend it as we have been and shoot them if they tried,” replied Duncan.
Cooper stood and sat next to the fire. “Then if we believe that’s the right thing to do—to protect our ten-thousand-acre ranch, wouldn’t it be the right thing to do for the president to protect Texas?”
The room grew silent for a moment as they contemplated Cooper’s statement. The duty to protect was all relative, whether it was your home, ranch, town, or country.
“Wow, Coop sounded just like Daddy,” said Palmer. “Maybe you oughta be a politician.”
“Forget it!” said Cooper as the family laughed at the suggestion.
Major turned the attention back to Duncan’s reasoning for joining the TX-QRF. “Son, if the quick reaction force doesn’t focus on border protection, where do you see them helping Texas the most?”
“Two places, Dad. One is to deal with the threat that Sook and I believe is coming. There are Koreans gathering out there somewhere—either in New Mexico or, heck, they could already be in Texas. I wanna focus my unit’s efforts on dealing with them.”
Major nodded in agreement, and then he asked, “What’s the other place?”
“Right here,” Duncan replied. “I plan on making my men loyal to me and what I need done. If Texas is going to battle an onslaught of refugees or North Korean operatives, I want my guys ready to step in and help defend the ranch if need be. I’ll have tremendous resources at my disposal, which I will not have if I refuse the job. It’s the only way I could agree to leave the ranch without the benefit of my gun and experience.”
“Are you ready to give them an answer?” asked Lucy with trepidation.
“Not yet, Momma,” replied Duncan. “Antonio is scheduled to make another cattle run in a couple of days. I think I’ll drive into the city at the same time and meet with Captain Harris and, you know, take a look around. I’m sure he’ll be trying to impress me, so it’ll be the perfect time to ask for additional perks.”
“I’ll ride with you, son,” added Major. “While you talk with Harris, I’ll see what I can learn too.”
“Deal.”
Chapter 48
January 13
Perryton-Ochiltree County Airport
Perryton, Texas
The shooter looked out the porthole windows as the pilot made his final approach into Perryton, Texas, a small town located in the northernmost reaches of the Panhandle at the border with Oklahoma. He made the trip from Newport News to Texas in a Maltese-registered Dassault Falcon 50, which had been flown into the States from the air branch of the special activities division of the CIA.
The rendition aircraft, often used for the transfer of high-value prisoners from the Middle East to CIA locations around the world, had become a useful tool in the practice of sending terrorist suspects to locations that were less vigorous regarding the humane treatment of prisoners. Away from American media scrutiny, the terrorists could be influenced to give up information on others within their cell.
Perryton was chosen as his destination because of its close proximity to the Texas border. If he had been inserted deeper into the country, his flight might draw the attention of the various military installations spread around Texas. This would require a considerable drive south toward West Texas, but it would give him time to consider his mission.
As the plane taxied to a stop, he scribbled his destination on a piece of copy paper ripped from a page in the folder given to him by Yancey. He was assigned one CIA operative, who’d remained in Texas and would act as his driver, spotter, and security. The shooter was not used to working with an unknown quantity as his spotter, especially a spook. After he took the shot, he’d have to remember to watch his back.
The shooter vowed he’d treat this kill like any other, regardless of the target’s history of serving his country. The man was just a target, nothing else. He would, however, become intimate with the target’s routine, surroundings, and security he employed.
He would be patient and bide his time in order to achieve success. His orders did not provide a deadline, which was rare in his business. Usually, higher-ups were anxious to move along with phase two of an operation, with phase one being the kill.
He was not made privy to the big picture, nor did he care. When the opportunity presented itself, he’d squeeze the trigger. Boom, done.
Then he’d go back to his new sailboat, the Miss Behavin’, located in Newport News, and chill. Heck, he might even take her back up the coast to Marblehead off the Massachusetts coastline for old times’ sake.
PART FOUR
Chapter 49
January 14
TX-QRF
Texas National Guard Base
Lubbock, Texas
It had been ten days since Major, Preacher, and Duncan had traveled into Lubbock to assess their slaughterhouse options. Signs of the city’s collapse had begun to manifest themselves in the form of out-of-control fires, shuttered businesses, and angry mobs gathered around governmental buildings. The departure of the Texas military from assisting the local law enforcement had taken a toll on a vibrant midsize metropolitan area, which had once earned the nickname the Hub City. Lubbock was looked upon as the economic, educational, and health care hub of the South Plains, the nickname this region of the Texas Panhandle had earned.
The interstate, which ran north and south through the heart of the city, was once again closed to civilian traffic, both vehicular and those on foot. Until Duncan formally accepted the position commanding the regional quick reaction force, he would have to approach the National Guard facility like other civilians.
Early that morning, Duncan had contacted Captain Harris via the satphone to set a time to meet. Duncan had several questions and was anxious to see the facility. On the ride into town, he and Major confirmed their game plan while touring the base. Duncan wanted to feel comfortable that he’d have both the authority and resources to help Armstrong Ranch if it came under attack.
Very few vehicles traveled the streets of Lubbock that morning. Offices and businesses were closed, looted, or burned to the ground. Evidence of the economic collapse associated with this catastrophe was everywhere.
Like the rest of North America, whose economy was driven by consumer spending, when the U.S. was beset by an event of this magnitude, the engines of trade, manufacturing, and services came to a screeching h
alt. The nature of the world economy was based upon spending. When the ability to earn was squashed, then spending stopped, and the vicious cycle brought the society downward to its most rudimentary levels—survival of the fittest.
The retail businesses of Lubbock went weeks without an acceptable currency in place, so they attempted to close their doors and wait for the anticipated recovery. The people of Lubbock refused to wait. They began to demand access to those goods, and when they had nothing of acceptable value to trade for them, people took more extreme measures, which necessarily included violence.
The downward spiral of society into collapse was an inevitable result as people competed with one another to obtain food. It could take months if not years for a new nation to become self-reliant. Crops didn’t grow overnight. Sources of meat didn’t reproduce in a short period of time. Manufacturing plants needed to be built to create the prepackaged canned goods that the citizens were accustomed to purchasing in grocery stores.
It all took time, and as a result, people died from starvation or at the hands of their fellow man—whether the lights were on or not.
“Identification, please, and state your purpose,” said a guard at the entry gate to the base. Security was heavy, reflecting the increased violence in the Lubbock area. Several groups walked the sidewalks around the camp, attempting to get the attention of the roving patrols. Most asked for food while others sought information.
Major and Duncan responded and provided their identification. They were instructed to exit the truck while it was searched, and then they were patted down as well. As the process was completed, Captain Harris arrived in a Humvee. After speaking with the sentries, the Armstrongs were waved through and followed Captain Harris to the administration buildings. After they parked the vehicles, Captain Harris was apologetic.
“Sorry about that, gentlemen,” he began as the men shook hands. “Putting you on the visitors’ list totally slipped my mind although you would’ve been scrutinized to an extent anyway. Welcome to Camp Lubbock.”
“Not a problem, Captain,” said Duncan. “The amount of activity here warrants the additional security, and that applies to both sides of the fences. We were in Lubbock ten days ago, and the city seems to have taken a turn for the worse.”
“Sadly, that’s true,” said Captain Harris. “Even with Texas taking control of Fort Bliss and Fort Hood, where I’m stationed, the number of active-duty personnel and reservists is less than one hundred thousand. Texas has a lot of area to protect, especially when you consider we have to guard a border of this size. Using the regular military to control the streets of our cities wasn’t feasible. Frankly, that’s part of the reason for expanding the TX-QRF into our regional bases. We hope the quick reaction teams can supplement law enforcement in dealing with local issues while the Texas Army and National Guard focus on border protection.”
“Makes sense,” said Major as Captain Harris motioned for them to follow him inside. “Have you divided the country into regions? For example, what areas will Camp Lubbock assist?”
“That’s a great place to start. This is my temporary office, until I hire a successor, of course.” Captain Harris chuckled as he led them into a spacious room, which included maps, whiteboards, and television monitors.
“I assume you’re referring to me,” said Duncan.
“Well, I do need an answer by tomorrow, but today will suit me just fine too,” said Captain Harris as he walked up to a map.
“Well, this certainly looks familiar,” quipped Major as he ran his hands across the map. “If I didn’t know better, this came right out of my old office.”
“Good memory, Major, because you are correct,” said the captain. “The investigative functions of the Texas Rangers have been consolidated into Austin for the time being as the newly formed Department of Justice prepares for a future following the collapse. In my opinion, the president has changed her focus from crime investigation to crime prevention as she tries to stabilize our cities. It would be impossible to investigate the number of murders that occur on a daily basis.”
Duncan studied the map closely as his father’s old region stood out in pale yellow. It encompassed the entire Texas Panhandle and areas to the east along the Red River. But, as he recalled from his days at home when his father still presided as major of Company C, Borden County was not included. At the time, it had turned out to be a good thing, as his father could never be accused of a conflict of interest when the Rangers were investigating any matters in Borden County. However, for Duncan’s purposes, he wanted the ability to dispatch his teams to the ranch if necessary.
“Captain,” Duncan interrupted, “Borden County, where our ranch is located, falls outside the Lubbock region. Granted, I don’t expect any civilian uprisings in a county that once had six hundred residents and probably half that now, but if necessary, I’d want permission to assist in protecting my home county.”
“Consider it done,” Captain Harris quickly replied as if he expected the issue to be raised. “Now that you’ve seen where you’ll be hanging your hat, let me show you around the base.”
The men walked through the facility and inspected the armory. Duncan was pleased that every infantry weapon available to the U.S. military was included together with body armor and other tools like night vision.
They toured the outside of the permanent buildings, which included temporary tent housing, portable buildings obtained from FEMA for housing of personnel, and rows of military vehicles to be used in combat and patrols.
“Very impressive,” said Duncan. “Now, you mentioned that I could handpick my team. How many men will I be assigned?”
Captain Harris led them out to the parking area near the perimeter fencing on the south side of the base. He nodded and replied, “Company level of roughly a hundred soldiers, which, based upon my analysis of the region, could be divided in three to five platoons, which may vary by unit type, structure, and assigned region within your area of responsibility.”
“Where will they be housed?” asked Duncan.
“You can use the base, although the accommodations are not the best for a long-term scenario. My plan was to divide them between Lubbock, Amarillo, and Wichita Falls, each with their own regional command and area of responsibility. Then maintain a permanent force here that would act as a roving unit capable of putting out fires across the entire region.”
Duncan didn’t respond but opted to soak in the information he’d received. A flash of light or the sun’s reflection on a shiny piece of metal across the street momentarily caught his attention. Subconsciously, his hand slid down his side to grip the butt of his weapon. After a moment, he shrugged it off.
Major and Duncan thanked Captain Harris for the informational tour. Duncan advised the captain that he wanted to discuss the matter with the entire family this evening but promised him a timely response. As they reached the truck, Duncan gave the house across Regis Street one more look before they left.
*****
“I’ll be damned,” Holloway said to himself as he crammed the monocular against his eye. “I can’t be wrong about this.”
His two lieutenants had learned not to interject themselves into the conversations Holloway tended to have with himself. If he sought their input, he’d ask them directly.
“Was it back in Arizona? Peach Springs? Yeah. He was with that young Korean girl. They kicked the crap out of those guys and then were escorted into the sheriff’s office. He had a beard, but I’ll never forget the guy’s eyes. They were intense. I know an operator when I see one.”
Holloway began to think to himself as he recalled the events in Arizona. The proximity of his observations in Peach Springs and the failed ambush near Winslow were no coincidence. He became firmly convinced that this operator was the one who had killed his guys and, by some stroke of fate, was now shaking hands with the top brass at the Lubbock armory.
He set the monocular in the cup holder of the truck and started the engine. “Boys, I’ve
seen enough to know that the armory is out of reach, but revenge for some of our brothers may not be. Let’s go.”
Chapter 50
January 14
The Armstrong Ranch
Borden County, Texas
Major and Duncan returned to a hot dinner of barbecue, courtesy of the hunting expedition resumed the day after the attack on the Slaughters at the Reinecke property. Lucy prepared cornbread, which was oozing with butter made from the dairy cows and complemented with ranch-style beans. The aroma filled the house as the two travelers hung their jackets and stowed their firearms.
Preacher, who’d made the final run to the slaughterhouse with Antonio, which freed up Major and Duncan to spend as much time as needed at the National Guard base, was adding logs onto the fire. The entire family had gathered in the living room, awaiting the guys’ return.
Lucy encouraged everyone to make themselves a plate and find a place to take a seat around the fire. It was time for a family discussion.
“How’d it go, Duncan?” asked Riley as Duncan and Sook finished an embrace coupled with a brief kiss. She gently touched his face, which was in need of a shave again.
“Dad, I believe you’ll agree,” started Duncan in reply, looking to his father for confirmation, “they’re very serious about establishing a military presence in Lubbock, in Camp Lubbock, as they now call it. What they have in mind for me is impressive, too.”
“I agree, y’all,” said Major. “They’ve divided the state into the same regions as when I operated with the Texas Rangers. Duncan would be in charge of my old stomping grounds. I might be able to give him insight as situations arise.”
“What kind of situations?” asked Lucy. She was carefully studying her husband and her oldest child to gauge their truthfulness.
“I have to say that my role with the TX-QRF leans more to law enforcement than it does military,” replied Duncan. “It’s almost like a militarized SWAT team.”
