Texas Strong_Post Apocalyptic EMP Survival Fiction

by Bobby Akart

  “Here we go, guys,” started Duncan. “Now, Riley, don’t get too excited when you see what’s in here.”

  Duncan swiped his badge, and the locks popped open, providing them access to the armory. “I haven’t picked out my weapons yet. The Barrett that I brought back from North Korea isn’t the ideal battle rifle. It’s really a sniper rifle that will make do in battle if necessary.”

  “Are you gonna choose common calibers with our rifles at home?” asked Cooper.

  “That’s a great idea, Coop,” said Duncan, who wanted to provide his brother some kudos although he’d already considered the idea. “Here’s the one I have in mind.”

  Riley and Cooper followed Duncan down a long row of M4s and M16s to a separate rack labeled NATO 7.62.

  “These are the AR-10s like Dad’s new gun. This Mk 14 EBR was used by the units under the U.S. special ops commands, like SEAL teams, Delta Force, and certain task-specific Green Beret units. Here, check it out.” Duncan handed Riley the weapon.

  “I like it. In fact, I’ll take this one.”

  “Very funny,” said Duncan as he looked around to see if they were alone. “All in due time, Riley.”

  Cooper walked to the rack and studied the green metal ammo cans stacked underneath the gun rack. They were all labeled 7.62. “Just like our .308 hunting rifles,” Cooper mumbled to himself.

  “That’s right, Coop, which fits with what you said earlier. I like this rifle because it gives me the ability to engage enemy targets beyond the range of M4 carbines and M16 rifles, but also the caliber matches many of our weapons.”

  “Duncan, what about handguns?” asked Riley.

  “Follow me,” said Duncan. He led them to the center of the large open auditorium-style building to several rows of glass cases, which displayed the military’s sidearm selections. He stopped in front of a sign labeled M17.

  “This is one of the finest pistols ever made. It’s the military version of the Sig Sauer P320, which is designated as the M17.” Duncan slid open the case and pulled out a black matte version of the M18. “This is the compact version of the larger M17. Same firepower, just smaller. I’ll probably carry one of each when in the field.”

  “Nine millimeter?” asked Cooper.

  Duncan leaned in to whisper, “Yes. Matches everything else, understand?”

  Cooper nodded as he took the gun from Duncan and weighed it in his hands. He nodded his approval. The guys were examining the various handgun models when they were interrupted by Captain Harris.

  “I suspected I’d find you in here,” he said with a smile. He pointed to the M17 chambered in .45 caliber. “That’s what I carry daily. Actually, this one, with the fiber-optic front sight. It’s never failed me.”

  Duncan returned the weapons to the case before Captain Harris interrupted him. “Commander, have you made your selections? If so, we can assign them to you today while you get the rest of your gear in logistics.”

  Duncan quickly retrieved both an M17 and an M18 in their hard plastic cases. “Ammo too?”

  Captain Harris nodded and pointed below the shelves. Duncan instructed Cooper to take a thousand rounds of .45 caliber together with three extra magazines for each weapon. Afterwards, they did the same thing for his new battle rifle.

  When the day was done, Duncan looked the part of a soldier. He no longer worked in the shadows in the dark world of special operators. Tomorrow, he’d be in uniform, in command of a hundred men, and capable of responding to all contingencies, including those that threatened his family.

  Chapter 55

  January 15

  The Armstrong Ranch

  Borden County, Texas

  It could’ve easily been a somber dinner as Duncan came back to the ranch for one last night before he officially took over the reins of the TX-QRF in Lubbock. It turned out to be anything but solemn. Cooper and Riley became the life of the party as they teased their mother with jokes about becoming soldiers. Palmer laughed that they’d seen more action at the ranch than those guys walking the fence.

  Corporal Esparza, Espy, was an instant hit. His Latin good looks and charm were irresistible to Palmer, who immediately took a liking to the single young man. At first, Espy was overwhelmed by the Armstrong family and how they interacted with one another. Quietly taking it all in, he sat politely at the dining table next to his boss on one side and Palmer on the other. However, as the evening went on, he came out of his shell and spent some time razzing Riley.

  Riley insisted wrestling a steer was far more difficult than Espy’s favorite hobby, soccer. After being transferred from the 101st to Fort Hood, he’d commuted to Austin to play on the semipro Austin Real CHC football club, a men’s outdoor soccer team that competed with others like it throughout Texas.

  Espy insisted that soccer was a contact sport and he had the broken ankles and concussions to prove it. He explained how humorous it was for parents to insist their children play soccer rather than football in order to avoid injuries. At least in football, he laughed, you get pads to prevent getting kicked in the head.

  The conversation then turned toward Cooper’s exploits, especially aboard One Night Stand. This was a story they’d never told Sook, who listened in horror as Cooper described what had happened on that night last October.

  By the end of the evening, bellies were full and the Armstrong family was welcoming Espy in with open arms. As the evening had progressed, Duncan came up with a plan that would not only garner the loyalty of his new aide-de-camp, but also provide him the ability to work from the ranch rather than be away in Lubbock for days on end.

  Duncan pulled his father aside and asked if Espy could live in one of the ranch houses outside the perimeter. That way, the two could become inseparable allies, and Duncan could use Espy’s talents to help defend the ranch.

  Major had a better idea, one that might suit Espy if he didn’t mind the spartan furnishings. He could live in the bunker. Preacher had modified the tri-fuel generator to harness the sun with solar panels they’d discovered at the Reinecke complex. After further discussion, Major and Duncan took Espy outside and made their pitch.

  Twenty minutes later, Espy was accepting the offer and thrilled at the prospect of moving out of the temporary tents surrounding Camp Lubbock to sleep in the submarine, as he called it. He asked Miss Lucy twice if she didn’t mind another mouth to feed. He promised to eat leftovers, volunteer for KP duty, and help teach the kids on the ranch how to play soccer.

  While the group sat around the fire and traded stories and jokes over hot chocolate, Duncan caught his father’s eye and nodded toward the kitchen as a signal for Major to join him. First Duncan and then Major slipped away to talk privately.

  “Son, I have to be honest with you,” began Major when he entered the kitchen. “I had my reservations about your involvement in the TX-QRF. After our trip to Austin, it was in the back of my mind that Gregg could be behind this. You know, purposefully putting you in danger to silence the only remaining witness to his failed attempt on Kim’s life.”

  “We haven’t really talked about that, Dad, but I believe I’ll have access to information that may give me answers. If this was a setup by Gregg and the men who are loyal to him, then I need someone to watch my back. I think Espy is our guy.”

  “No doubt, son. He fit right in with the family. He seems like an appreciative young man who’d work with you and not against you. Offering him a place here was a good move.”

  Duncan laughed. “Plus, I think he’s sweet on Palmer.”

  Major pulled up a chair and gestured for Duncan to do the same. “Oh, I noticed that, and I’m sure your eagle-eyed mother did as well. Well, he’d better be careful about what he wishes for because she was very flirty with him tonight, a side I haven’t seen of her in a while.”

  “Dad, if you need me to create some boundaries, I’ll do it,” said Duncan. “I need him focused and not concerned with my little sister.”

  “They’re fine, son. Let it play out. Your y
oung corporal seems like a good man, and he’s practically under our roof, where we can get to know him.”

  Duncan hesitated and leaned back in his chair to glance toward the family room. He didn’t want to be interrupted but thought it would be too obvious to drag his father outside, which would pique everyone’s curiosity.

  “Son,” whispered Major, “is something on your mind?”

  “Dad, I need to talk to you about me and Sook. I, um, well, I love her, Dad. I think I’d like to marry her, but I want to make sure it’s, um, okay.”

  Major leaned forward and patted his oldest son on the arm. “Son, of course it’s okay. It’s more than okay, actually. Your mother and I love this young woman like she was one of our own. And not just because of how she saved your life. There is a beauty about her inside. She’s giving, unselfish, and completely honest. I’ve never seen anything like it since I fell in love with Miss Lucy.”

  Duncan fidgeted and then continued. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this out loud, but it has to be said. Daddy, she’s Korean, and life may be tough for her here. Am I doing her a disservice by being selfish and not giving her the opportunity to return to South Korea, where she might still have family?”

  Major furrowed his brow and nodded. “As for the last part, that’s something that you’ll need to discuss with her when you two assess your future. But as to her race and heritage, I can assure you no one in this family cares about that, and we’re all that matters. Listen, I’ve said before that this world would be a better place if all of us would stop viewing each other through the prism of race, color, and religion. Only a color-blind society can be truly racist free, and that goes for those who ordinarily scream racism the loudest.”

  Duncan smiled. “Do you think it’s too soon? We’ve only known each other for a couple of months.”

  “True, but in those two months you’ve been through more than most courting couples do in a year, or a lifetime, frankly. Love can come from out of nowhere. It’s an extraordinary feeling when you know the woman you love also loves you back. There is no doubt in my mind that Sook loves you as much as you love her.”

  “I’m gonna go for it, Dad,” said Duncan with conviction. “Not tonight, though. I feel like we’re having a family reunion. I mean, listen to them out there. They didn’t even notice us missing.”

  Major laughed and stood. “You’re wrong, son. Two people did—Lucy and Sook. The ones that love you always miss you when you leave the room.”

  Chapter 56

  January 16

  West Texas near Hobbs, New Mexico

  In the year 27 BC, two thousand and fifty years ago to the day, a thirty-six-year-old military hero named Julius Caesar was bestowed the title of Augustus by the Roman Senate, marking the beginning of the Roman Empire. His reign was one of the most effective in human history, fostering in the era known as Pax Romana, a period of two centuries in which the Roman world was free of large-scale war. But, as always has been the case, all empires collapse eventually. They’re either defeated by a greater, more powerful enemy, or their financing runs out.

  On this 16th day of January in 2023, the newly formed empire known as Texas would begin a period that would test the mettle of its leaders and the will of its citizens. History would judge the actions of all sides who participated in the events to come.

  There was one seminal event that would be universally accepted as the trigger—the moment Texas would find its way into the world’s history books, not as a footnote to the devastation associated with the attack on America, but a chapter in its own right.

  Joseph Manuel Holloway, age thirty-six, led his twenty men into position. His plan made several assumptions, the most important of which was predicting the reaction of the border security. Based upon their surveillance, the checkpoints demanded the most attention of the Texas military.

  While there were an increasing number of roving patrols that drove the fences twenty-four hours a day, the checkpoint entries had the largest number of refugees congregated around them, therefore garnering the most firepower by the Texans. He assumed the roving patrols would descend upon the checkpoints once the assault began, but by then, it would be too late, as refugees would be pouring through the fence.

  Using the element of surprise, he’d attack two of the three checkpoints with four-man teams while he would lead his best four guys against the Hobbs entry point. His remaining men were situated equidistant along the border fence. Once the roving patrols left the more remote areas of the Texas border to assist at the checkpoint, his men would pull down the fences, allowing commandos and refugees to enter. The mass confusion would enable Lee’s men the cover necessary to make it to their transportation.

  Holloway looked to the eastern sky and saw the sun beginning to peek over the horizon. It was 6:15, and the sentry guards would be preparing themselves for a shift change soon. Minutes earlier, he’d contacted Lee and confirmed they were in place.

  In the last hour, they’d cautiously approached the checkpoint from the east, with each man driving his own vehicle. A neighborhood on the Texas side of the checkpoint and a local RV park provided a plausible explanation for the presence of an approaching vehicle, although the sentries at the checkpoint rarely had a traveler from Texas attempting to leave.

  His men gathered outside a mobile home situated a hundred yards from the checkpoint. The ten-foot fencing marking the border met under the Welcome to New Mexico sign stretched across Seminole Highway. Atop the sign, annoying flashing yellow caution lights had been attached, creating a constant warning to anyone approaching the checkpoint that they were, in fact, not welcome in Texas.

  “All right, gentlemen, it’s go-time,” said Holloway as he gave the checkpoint one final glance. “Remember, we’ve got about ten minutes to take care of business before reinforcements arrive. This will be over and done in far less time, if we execute according to plan.”

  He patted his guys on the shoulders and pointed them toward their positions. His four men approached from different angles, with Holloway walking straight up the divided highway toward the guards. Once he was in position, he’d open fire and his men would converge upon the gates, killing anything that moved.

  Holloway would then peel off and cover a block barn building, which had been converted into a barracks. Based upon their surveillance, no more than eight men slept there before the morning shift took over.

  It was 6:30, almost sunrise on a glorious new day, for some.

  Holloway casually approached the command trailer and glanced inside the windows to locate the unit commander, who was having coffee with one of his soldiers.

  “I’ll see you two in a minute,” Holloway calmly muttered as he walked past the wooden stairs that entered the trailer. He raised his automatic weapon, flicked off the safety switch, and quickly counted his targets.

  Eight men stood before him, facing the fence and the refugees, who were beginning to stir as the morning sunlight struck their faces. All of the soldiers had their backs to Holloway as his shadow began to grow on the asphalt highway behind them.

  It’s been said to shoot a man in the back is a cowardly act. A man of honor, a gentleman, would allow his adversary the opportunity to face his attacker. Holloway sneered at the thought. Killing was neither honorable or gentlemanly. For some, it was self-preservation. For others, it was simply their job.

  For Holloway, it was fun.

  He dropped to a knee and opened fire on the men at the center of the sliding chain-link fence. No head shots, yet, he reminded himself. Center mass, take them down, finish the job seconds later.

  As his automatic weapon emptied its first magazine, shrieks of fear filled the air from the refugees. Gunfire erupted like blasts from stereo speakers in a movie theater as his men converged from both sides to kill the guards to Holloway’s left and right.

  Trusting in his men’s capabilities, he rose, quickly pivoted, and jammed another magazine into his weapon as he walked calmly toward the entrance to t
he trailer, with his rifle’s sights trained on the door. First a female soldier, then the unit commander burst through the door with pistols raised. They were dead within seconds.

  “The barracks,” shouted one of Holloway’s men.

  He swung around and saw that several soldiers had bolted out of their sleeping quarters, ready for battle. They fired upon Holloway first, but missed as he quickly ran for cover at the side of the command trailer.

  His men returned fire, killing one soldier, but the others took cover behind a Humvee towing a trailer.

  They began to fire at Holloway’s men, missing them but finding plenty of victims on the refugee side of the fence. This resulted in a mass exodus by those who’d waited weeks to enter Texas as they pushed and shoved to flee the gunfire. The moans of the injured and the screams of the frightened filled the air.

  “You two, open the gates!” Holloway began shouting instructions. “The rest of you provide cover and converge.”

  Bullets began flying in both directions. Another soldier attempted to join the fray as he burst out of the barracks, raining automatic gunfire towards Holloway’s position. He was cut down in seconds by one of the commandos. Now they had the numbers.

  The gate began to open, creaking on its dirt-filled, rusty gear mechanism. Refugees began to spill through the opening as soon as they were wide enough to fit through. The mad rush in the opposite direction turned on a dime, and the scramble for the Texas soil became more important than their fear.

  With the rush of refugees came the DPRK commandos. Dressed in civilian attire, only their Korean faces gave them a different look from the Americans seeking refuge. They charged forward screaming in Korean.

  “Manse! Manse!”

  The term had often been used as a tribute to wish Kim Jong-Il a long life, and it was also used for Kim Jong-un. Similar to the term banzai used by the Japanese during World War II, manse was often used by the Korean People’s Army as the Korean equivalent of victory.