The Generals of October

by John T. Cullen

  Men with fire axes and hooks pulled out pieces of the elevator carriage, while two men in fire retardant suits sprayed dry chemicals into the shaft. Soldiers laid planks over the gaping hole. The mountaineers stepped onto the planks with their M-16’s tied to their backpacks. They attached lineman pulleys to the thick elevator cable, and winched themselves upward. Electrical cables, attached to the climbers’ belts, trailed out of the shaft to the nearest LX, whose whining engine powered a generator.

  Sharpshooters hunkered just outside the shaft and pointed rifles with telescopic sights and laser targeting aids upward. Tory heard tortured whining and grinding sounds. “Those are electrical drills,” Devereaux said. “Our guys are bolting all the doors shut on their way up so Montclair’s duds can’t mess with them from below. The snipers’ll take care of anyone who sticks his nose over the edge from the higher floors.” He spat a brown wad that made an LX tire gleam.

  Even as he spoke, the snipers took careful aim with heavy rifles and picked off a few targets. Tory watched, queasily, as two or three lumps of blue and yellow matter sailed by toward the bottom of the shaft. Each body made a sound like cracking knuckles when it hit. “We got it under control, General,” said a sniper wreathed in gunsmoke.

  After five minutes of tortured silence, Tory heard a shout. Men carried into the shaft a plywood platform secured by braided steel cables to a pulley device. They attached the pulley to the elevator cable and ran an electrical cord between the pulley and the LX generator. The empty platform rolled efficiently upward and out of sight. Tory marveled as the operation proceeded with flawless timing. Then she heard shouts, and the generator cut off.

  ALLISON MIRANDA: The United States is currently undergoing the first military coup attempt in its history. Unknown Army elements have seized control of CON2. The Atlantic Hotel and Convention Center is an armed fortress tonight, with thousands of heavily armed commandos inside. They are reportedly holding all 1,000 delegates hostage in the main meeting hall, but they claim some will be released if they swear allegiance to a new Constitution with some Bible connection that is not clear yet.

  Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff Billy Norcross has pledged to support the Bradley administration totally and without regard for domestic politics.At the request of President Bradley, General Norcross has shifted his headquarters to the Situation Room at the White House. Norcross is said to have already ordered the arrests of dozens of dissident military officers who are reportedly unhappy both with the old Constitution and with any potential new Constitution that might arise out of CON2.

  There are confirmed reports of fighting, with hundreds of casualties, maybe up to a thousand, and the number rapidly continues to grow, along New Hampshire Avenue between DuPont and Washington Circles, where National Guard and Reserve units are trying to hold the line against renegade units trying to reach the White House.

  We ask you to bear with us as we continue sorting out the news. Stories are coming in, so many, from all sides, and the situation is so fluid right now, that we are doing our best to keep up.

  There is a confirmed report now that early during this coup attempt, two Neptune SuperMarine amphibious attack helicopters with forty commandos being shot down on their way to the White House by Marine Corps forces loyal to the President, using car-mounted machine guns. Secret Service agents with shotguns also participated. Both helicopters crashed and burned on city streets. Observers said surviving commandos were stopped a block from the White House in bloody hand to hand fighting with lightly armed U.S. Marine embassy and White House personnel, some using knives and entrenching tools. All those commandos are said to have been killed or captured. Loyal casualties were heavy.

  We cut now to the White House Press Room, where the President is speaking to the nation at this very moment.

  BRADLEY: My friends, when I came here three years ago, I came as an old boy from Mississippi at the call of his party and his country. As you know, I quit the Middle Class Party earlier this year when I realized how radical and dangerous its direction had become. I tried to stop this CON2, but the mood of the country was not in my favor, and opportunists in the Middle Class Party moved quickly ahead with their plans. Now we have a crisis on our hands, but do not worry. I will lead you out of this crisis and restore order. Democracy is in no danger tonight. Our goal must not be radicalism.--but healing, and that is what this Presidency is all about. The people who like to bash me have called me slow, indecisive, and lacking in principles. Everyone wants something done now, without thought or plan. I shall stay here with this government, in this ancient and glorious house of presidents, and defend the American system of government. We have to remember that democracy is a gift we are entrusted from generation to generation, but democracy, like virtue, has many enemies, and each generation must defend democracy in its own way, in its own time, or it cannot pass those freedoms on.

  Chapter 40

  David had his gun drawn as he peeked around the corner on his vulnerable high perch. He saw that the elevator door up one floor and to the right was open and empty. Only a dim illumination came from an emergency light in the 10th floor hotel hallway beyond. David still couldn’t believe his eyes. Moments before, commandos had been machine gunning them; then two of the commandos had been shot from below, their bodies had dropped silently into the shaft, and the rest of the skinheads had withdrawn from the open door.

  “Don’t tell me we have to climb up there,” Mattoon said dispiritedly, thinking several steps ahead. He held his gun limply at his side, and wiped sweat from his forehead with one sleeve.

  David kept his gun trained on the door above, but he peered down over the ledge. Something was going on below. “Hey, this is David Gordon! Don’t shoot!”

  “David who?” came a voice from below.

  “Gordon. Captain, U.S. Army. Under orders from General Devereaux.”

  “Captain Gordon, Sir! Glad to see you. I’m Sergeant Goldman. Have you got our man up there?”

  “Safe and sound.”

  Moments later, three sooty-faced men came up the shaft using a clamp device that allowed them to hoist themselves a foot at a time. They had light gear, and micro assault rifles strapped close to their backpacks.

  “Mike!” one shouted. David looked up and saw fanatical eyes in the high doorway.

  The man named Mike swung a few inches to his left and released a spray of rounds. A commando dropped his rifle into the shaft, then followed in a slow, silent pirouette of death. Acrid smoke drifted in the shaft.

  “That was close.” The three point men climbed up onto the shelf. They all shook hands. David quickly explained the tactical situation. “They could come swarming any minute,” he told them. “Especially that door up there.”

  “We’ll keep our eyes on that door,” Mike agreed.

  Mattoon said: “If I get out of this alive, I’m running for my old Senate seat as an unaffiliated citizen.”

  Mike said: “Why don’t we change the Constitution so this won’t happen again?”

  “Naw,” Goldman said, “forget changing the Constitution, man. That’s the whole point. Leave it alone.”

  “Heads up!” the third soldier said. A wooden platform arrived, driven by one soldier dressed like the first two, his face also blackened The platform was not quite as wide as the elevator. Mike nudged Mattoon: “Hop on there, Sir, quick!” While the big man froze in fear at jumping across the abyss, the three soldiers tied ropes around his waist and shoulders. “Here you go, Mattoon. If you drop, we’ve got you. All you got to do is jump for the cable!”

  Mattoon rose, flexing his knees. “Well, I’m getting good at this.”

  Just then a commando face appeared in the doorway above. And another.

  “Go go go,” Mike screamed, shooting at the commandos.

  Mattoon jumped, caught the cable, and was whisked out of sight.

  Two or three minutes, the platform appeared again with two men on it. “Captain!” Mike shouted. “Now!” Mike and the ot
her man extended their free hands to help him.

  David rose and jumped.

  As he landed beside Mike, Mike’s partner took a bullet in the chest and spun, with a stunned expression, out of sight into the shaft.

  The cable swung back and forth. Mike raised an Uzi and sprayed upward. “Take us down!” he screamed into the shaft.

  More shots came from above. David heard two bullets sing past his ears. This is it, he thought. I’m gonna die any minute now.

  Goldman was hit several times and slumped on the platform above.

  Suddenly, there was an enormous explosion. The shaft filled with a blinding, choking white dust that rose in a column and instantly enveloped David. Coughing and gasping for air, David clung to the swaying platform, unable to see six inches before his face. The platform bounced violently up and down as it swung, and he thought with panic of the long drop down into the shaft--to a certain death.

  His worst fear was that he might never see Tory again.

  Chapter 41

  The generator in the basement under Tower 1 cut in again like a million dental drills. Hot, sweaty air washed Tory’s face--and, she saw, the sooty faces of those around her--as the wooden platform descended. On it hulked Senator Mattoon. He looked rumpled, dismayed, and helpless, and Tory felt sorry for him, despite of how he had threatened her. His gray hair looked mussy, and he teetered as soldiers helped him to the safety of Rocky Devereaux’s LX. Devereaux clapped him on the back. “Gonna take you to the White House.”

  Mattoon shook Devereaux’s hand ruefully. “I’m all for that.”

  Tory glanced nervously over her shoulder as she and the men crowded toward the LXs.

  Now that the blue and yellows saw that Mattoon was in enemy hands, they began shouting in rage. Commandos jumped over their defensive lines and ran toward Tory’s position, firing wildly. Bullets rattled off the LXs’ thick hides and gouged holes in the soft concrete walls above.

  “In the bus!” Devereaux shouted as he pushed Mattoon’s huge frame in and then clambered in, Tory right behind.

  Machine guns began to prattle as roof turret gunners opened up.

  The garage was littered with bodies. Some, still barely alive, crawled aimlessly, too badly wounded to go forward or backward.

  Blue-and-yellows had not moved. Officers conferred feverishly and tried to reach somebody, probably Montclair, on a field phone.

  Then a cease-fire order apparently stilled the blue and yellows’ guns for the moment.

  Devereaux waved his cigar. “Bah, Montclair’s too busy with his radio program upstairs. He doesn’t have time to mess with us, he really doesn’t need reports of shooting down here to screw up his day even worse, and anyway, he couldn’t lead a squad of vultures to a dead horse.”

  A young officer ran up. “Sir, the enemy guys are attacking upstairs in the elevator shaft. We’ve got two or three men trapped up there and I can’t get anyone else up this shaft. The assholes are firing from an open bay higher up.”

  “If you can reach Sergeant Goldman, ask him if he has another avenue of retreat.”

  Another NCO spoke up. “Goldman is dead, Sir. So is Smith. It’s just Mike Lewis and your Captain Gordon up there. They’re trapped but they may have a back way out of there. He couldn’t be more specific because they could be located, so he’s shutting down his com button.”

  Tory’s heart sank. She had so hoped to be in David’s embrace just about now. Her disappointment was a body slam, but it was more important David came out of this alive. Better he stay up there, safely hidden, than risk traveling down this shaft.

  “Into the LX,” Devereaux ordered, and boots thudded and steel hatches clanged. He spoke into his com button. “Mark, are you there? Yo, Mark. We’re about ready here.” Tory climbed in after him. Charlie pulled the hatch closed. The soldiers had abandoned their equipment in the blackened elevator shaft. Hatch doors slammed shut in staccato array. “Hold on to your socks, everyone,” Devereaux said. “This will either work, or we’ll be dead. Okay Mark!”

  Tory felt a wrenching explosion, as the LX shifted under her. She saw the shocked look on Devereaux’s face. She felt a wall of blackness slam against her.

  A series of secondary explosions meteored all around the underground garage, shaking them like rag dolls.

  Tory was stunned. Her teeth were shaken, and her vision blurred as her skull danced around on her shoulders while her body sank sideways to the floor of the LX.

  This didn’t seem right. What had gone wrong? She felt pressure in her eyeballs, as if thumbs gouged her brain, the result of a huge, fatal explosion. Devereaux lay bloodied, mouth open. Tory crawled toward him, but bodies were in her way, and she became dizzy, heavy. Something had gone dreadfully wrong.

  ALLISON: We have reports of a massive explosion in or near Tower One at the Atlantic Hotel & Convention Center. We are following, of course, the heroic efforts of a mechanized battalion of the 399th Infantry Division to bring out some of the delegates. There is no word as to their fate in the explosion.

  In another continuing story, Pentagon officials have now released the names of the dead in the crash of 55th Aviation Battalion Flight 3. We will have those names for you shortly.

  A presidential spokesman says and I quote, We’ve had personal assurances from the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, Billy Norcross, that he and the vast majority of the military are behind the president one hundred per cent. This is not a civil war but an armed insurrection by a few people, and we expect it will be under control soon. The President, as Commander in Chief, has declared he will remain at his post in the White House and see this situation to its bitter conclusion, with all the criminals rounded up and America at peace once more. There is no plan to evacuate the White House, or indeed to evacuate the government from Washington, although the members of the Supreme Court were flown to safety. Both houses of Congress are meeting in emergency session tonight and are expected to issue statements soon calling for complete multipartisan condemnation of this outrage.

  This late word now from the Pentagon. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, General Billy Norcross, has pledged full support to President Clifford Bradley to end the insurrection of what are now called the Hotel Generals. This would seem to contradict a communique just hours ago from General Montclair that the Armed Forces were fully on his side, including General Norcross and all the top military brass. President Bradley has issued a communique thanking General Norcross for his support, and ordering him and other leaders to the White House for a joint press conference.

  You are about to see footage of an apparent night time firefight between insurrectionist commandos and Air Force police on the tarmac at Reagan International Airport in Washington as the Supreme Court justices were about to be flown out of the capital by the Air Force to an undisclosed location. The large shape in the background in this infrared night film is a C-130 cargo plane that was used in the evacuation. The flashes in front are shots being fired. The Air Force reports that the justices were successfully evacuated, at a cost of ten Air Police, and at least a dozen insurrectionists.

  Chapter 42

  As Maxie came to, she tried hard to remember where she was and what was going on. Confused, she struggled onto one elbow. She was in her flight suit amid rubble, and it was drizzling--lightly and newly, for she was still dry underneath. She remembered the fire in the chopper. That had been night time. The flaming machine ahead of hers had plunged toward the earth. She remembered Tom Dash fighting the controls of her crippled chopper as it leaned to the side coughing smoke.

  Now she was on her back and it was daylight. It was raining on her face and she wiggled her arms and legs. No major pain anywhere. She turned her head to one side and screamed. There, in the rubble, sat the decapitated head of Senior Flight Nurse Major Lillian Ilitch. It was wrapped in a towel, still in its helmet, and sat upright on a flat stone. The eyes were closed, peaceful, and she looked very sweet, almost asleep. The red lipstick gave its alabaster paleness a hum
ane color. “Oh my God,” Maxie cried, sitting up.

  “Hush,” said Irma Dagdagan.

  Tom Dash leaned close offering a cup of cold water. “We were hit by the same rocket that knocked Flight 3 down,” Tom told her as she sipped. “They went down hard. They’re all dead. We had secondary damage to the tail rotor and I managed to get us down in one piece a couple miles away. The ship’s a complete wreck, though.” He pointed across the piles of rubble that might once have been a city block--now resembling Berlin in 1945 or Atlanta in 1865--and there sprawled the broken, blackened wreckage of Flight 1. Fire had turned its big white squares shades of brown, and the red crosses black.

  Something whined past over her head, and Irma hugged Maxie to the ground. Tom ducked also, saying: “We’re under fire from some strange guys in blue and yellow camo over in that hotel. They seem to be working their way over here, and I guess--”

  Maxie gripped his hand. “You’re the flight officer in charge now, Tom. Why don’t we get the hell away from here? Lead us! Where is everybody?”

  He nudged his chin in a direction. She saw several dispirited men and women in torn flight suits. One or two were lying down. One sat up. A fourth sat with his head over his knees, hands clasped above his head in prayer. “That’s all that’s left?” Maxie said.

  Tom had tears in his eyes. “I can’t leave them. They’re hurt.” He swallowed. “I’m going to wait here.”