by Vohs, J. W.
“That’s a hell of a compliment based on what you’ve told me of these people.”
“It’s the truth,” Luke insisted. “Will you come with us? I want you to command the cavalry and pick company and platoon leaders for the infantry from this area.”
Wyatt didn’t respond right away. Luke waited for ten seconds before asking, “Will you please think about it, maybe talk about it with your wife and the council?”
“I already did,” he replied. “Maria was a champion barrel racer, and she’s bossier than all get out. She’s gonna take my spot here while I’m gone. Now’s the time to go out and win back the country. Now is my time to go to war.”
“I don’t care what Daniels’ report says, we’ve delivered on all the supply orders and I’ve got the paperwork to prove it!” Major Pruitt was red-faced and clearly frustrated.
“Keep your voice down, Major. I don’t appreciate your tone.” Barnes was well-aware of the rivalry between his top California leadership, and while Pruitt could be incredibly annoying, he was organized and meticulous when it came to paperwork and recordkeeping.
Pruitt bowed his head. “I apologize, Mr. President. I let my temper get the best of me, but I assure you that Major Daniels is mistaken—orders for containment facilities get top priority . . .”
Barnes leaned back in his chair and silenced Pruitt with an icy stare. “Clearly there was a breakdown somewhere, Major Pruitt. We had a significant breach that could have turned out much worse if not for the quick and decisive action of Major Daniels. His base commander claims cattle deliveries were short, and they’d been waiting on barbed wire fencing and other building materials for weeks.”
“Sir, I can personally guarantee that all field requests were processed and all deliveries were made. Of course, theft after-the-fact is a possibility, or perhaps the base wasn’t getting its own work done in a timely manner and somebody is just trying to pass the buck.”
“I suppose those are each possibilities,” Barnes replied coolly. “In any event, I am less than pleased with the lack of coordination between you and Major Daniels. If there was a problem on either end, both of you should have been aware of it. I’m expecting a shipment from the Gulf with aircraft fuel to be stored in the tanks at the San Francisco airport within the next two weeks. Can you also guarantee the integrity of that facility?”
“Yes, sir.” Pruitt looked miserable. “If you’d like to tour the—”
“I am a busy man, Major Pruitt. I shouldn’t have to check up on every airport or field base operation—that’s what I have people like you for.”
“Yes, sir. I understand, sir. The airport is ready to accept your delivery whenever it arrives.” Pruitt cleared his throat nervously. “And with your permission, Mr. President, I would like to personally follow up on the missing materials and ensure that the base in question gets everything it needs immediately.”
“See that you do.” When the major didn’t move, Barnes snapped, “Dismissed!” Pruitt nearly jumped out of his skin before bolting for the door.
Luke’s wife and friends were very supportive and excited when they heard the news about the additions the army would soon be enjoying. They all thought that rank wouldn’t be an issue, but Luke believed that sooner or later, it could become a problem in some way. He decided that Gracie, Maddy, and Zach should be captains and promoted them on the spot, promising to draw up official written orders that evening. Gracie would receive the first captain’s commission so that she would technically outrank the others and could command the battalion whenever Luke was absenct. Wyatt would receive his captaincy the following morning. Sooner rather than later, lieutenants would need to be selected from the ranks and assigned duties as executive company commanders and platoon leaders, but for now they could rely on their sergeants to run things at the squad level.
Recruiting, equipping, and training the Texan forces began the next day. As Wyatt had predicted, thousands of young people volunteered to literally get out of town. Gracie believed that many of the volunteers were simply patriotic and adventurous, which was also certainly true. With time, and a safe location to do so, the potential recruits were subjected to physical examinations and tests, interviews with the company commanders, and questionnaires explaining what they had been doing before and since the world collapsed. Luke was pleased to see that there would be no trouble filling the ranks of the new units with physically fit, and relatively experienced young fighters. By mid-afternoon, he felt confident in leaving his subordinates in charge of the process so he could drive over to Lake Texoma with his newest officer, Captain Wyatt Sanders of the Allied Resistance Army.
When questioned about the nature of their destination, Wyatt’s cryptic reply was simply, “It’ll be easier for you to see this than for me to try to explain it all.”
“What ever happened with that patrol that came up missing?” Luke buckled his seat belt as Wyatt’s old Jeep lurched into gear.
“Nothin’ good—we haven’t seen a trace of either of ‘em. They were brothers, Brock and Earl Merrill—Earl has a wife and a toddler. We found some blood on one of the saddles. Maria sent an extra search party this morning.”
Luke could tell that Wyatt had a personal connection to the missing men, but he didn’t want to pry. “I’m sorry—let me know if there’s anything I can do.”
They drove in silence for a few minutes, then Wyatt glanced over at Luke. “I’ll give you some idea of what I know about the people we’re goin’ to see. You know where Fort Sill is?”
“Nope, but I’ve heard of it.”
Wyatt rubbed his short beard. “I guess that’s somethin’. It’s in Southern Oklahoma—was the Army’s trainin’ base for all sorts of artillery specialties, and they had plenty of other things goin’ on there too. It wasn’t Fort Hood, but it was an important base.”
“Are you trying to tell me that we’re on our way to Oklahoma?”
Wyatt snorted. “I told you we’re goin’ to Lake Texoma. Here’s some more history: A few weeks after the outbreak began, a group of soldiers from Sill showed up near Lake Texoma and made a deal with the people of Preston, which is a little town situated at the tip of a narrow peninsula. Simple arrangement, really, the troops provided security for food and shelter. The deal’s worked out pretty well, but the soldiers have been a bit pissed since some of the citizens of Preston are holdin’ one of their men on a rape charge.”
Luke lifted his eyebrows in question, awaiting the Ranger’s explanation. “It’s not an open and shut case . . . the two had been datin’ for several months before their alcohol-fueled incident.”
“What’s the woman saying these days?”
“Just a misunderstandin’, she was no stranger to the police up there before the outbreak, and she’s worried they might charge her with false informin’ if she completely recants now.”
“So what’s this got to do with you?”
“Stinkin’ politics,” Wyatt confirmed. “The Denison council is sort of the final say for legal type questions around here. Some of these smaller communities have official spots on the council, including Preston. Now it just so happens that the young and obviously not-to-bright suspect threatened to kill one of the officers who arrested him—”
Luke interrupted, “Let me guess, that officer has family on the Denison council?”
“Bingo! The soldier was drunk, and I mean completely wasted, when he was arrested. He swears he doesn’t even remember threatenin’ the cop. I’ve talked to him, and he’s not a bad kid.”
“So . . . you want to bundle this soldier up when we leave town, without telling the good councilman what we’re up too, and add him to our recruits?”
“In my professional opinion, we wouldn’t be committin’ an injustice if we did just that. Plus, I think that letting his commander here know what we’re up to will open some doors today.” He peered over at Luke. “When you see what these troops have done since the outbreak, you’ll understand why I’d kinda like a few of ‘em to j
oin us before we head west.”
“Is that the favor your after—getting some soldiers from here to join us?”
Wyatt snickered. “That’s no favor; the boys here will line up to join just like back in Denison. Are you lookin’ around at all?”
“Yeah . . .” Luke had been paying attention to the scenery, but he doubled his observational efforts.
“So, you see this nice road we’re on, and I assume you’ve gotten some glimpses of the lake on both sides of us?”
“What’s your point, officer?”
“See those fields pocked with short stumps up ahead? Do you know why they did that?”
Luke thought for half a second, then nodded. “The soldiers created their own kill zone. But head shots over most of the ground they cleared are nearly impossible.”
“For muzzleloaders, yeah, but take a closer look at their works.”
The Ranger pointed to a line of SUV’s parked across the road nearly three hundred meters away. Even from this distance, Luke could see that the vehicles cut directly across the peninsula, stretching from the eastern shore of the lake to the west. The SUV’s were chained together, covered with sharpened, cast-iron obstacles, and heavily entwined with rolls of concertina wire.
As they passed through the kill-zone, Luke was struck by how much work must have gone into clearing the land. The ground seemed naturally clear north of the road, but on the eastern side the earth had been covered with hundreds of trees. He was sure there must have been acres of thick brush to deal with as well. Nothing remained but short stumps and mud. The soldiers had parked one of the vehicles directly across the road so they could use it as a gate of sorts. Two armed guards in a tower anchored by an old power-line pole watched silently as the Jeep slowed to a stop in front of the barrier. Before Luke opened his door, Wyatt whispered a warning. “Those guys still have a few rounds for their M-4s up in that observation post.”
Luke gave him a sharp look before donning his sunglasses. “How many is a few?”
Wyatt shrugged. “All but a couple of their fighters are armed with black powder long guns and revolvers, just like my men, so they don’t have much cartridge ammo left. What they do have, they arm their guards with. Point is, they have assault weapons and you’re a stranger; let me get out first.”
The guards quickly recognized Officer Sanders, and one of them climbed down the ladder and headed over to the gate. “How’s our favorite Texas Ranger doin’ today?”
“I’m doin’ just fine, Rodriguez. Brought along a friend I want Sergeant Logan to meet.”
The guard replied in a low voice, “Okay, but Sergeant Logan’s still pissed off about the situation with Madden.”
“Well,” Wyatt declared, “that’s part of the reason I’m here. I think I’ve got a plan that your first sergeant might be interested in hearin’.”
“Sounds good.” The guard smiled. “We already contacted him by radio and he told us to send you on over.”
“Thanks, Rodriguez.” Wyatt returned the smile. “Keep warm up there in that tower of yours.”
“Will do, Officer Sanders. Have a good one.” The guard respectfully nodded once to Luke before briskly walking over to the blocking vehicle and pulling it clear of the road.
Luke was pleasantly surprised to see that a second kill-zone had been constructed beyond the first wall. Two hundred meters away loomed the main defenses of Preston, a fifteen-foot-high wooden palisade with what appeared to be large doors cut out of the barrier at roughly ten-meter intervals. The closer they got, the more Luke could see that the openings were even closer than he first estimated. For a moment he thought that the doors might be some type of sally-ports, but then he saw what appeared to be large pipes jutting out of the shadows. Finally, he realized that the openings were gun apertures; these defenses were built around weapons Luke had yet to see in this war: modern artillery.
He turned to look at Wyatt, who was grinning from ear-to-ear as he shrugged with a “what can I tell you?” expression in his eyes.
“So they brought a bunch of toys from Fort Sill along with them,” Luke whispered admiringly.
“Oh yeah,” Wyatt chuckled, “and these boys know how to use their toys really well.”
“Have you seen them in action?”
“I led a hundred troopers up here last summer, after Logan sent word that they were under attack. The only thing we found by the time we got here was a bunch of shredded hunters lyin’ in the mud.”
“Damn,” Luke muttered.
“Yeah, ‘damn’ was all we could say when we saw what these guns can do.”
Luke frowned in confusion as they slowly drove toward the second wall. “They get those things from a museum or something?”
The guns had modern barrels, but they weren’t of any design Luke was familiar with. The extent of modification the artillery pieces had undergone was obviously massive. As a pre-outbreak military buff, Luke knew what modern field guns looked like; long, slender tubes with muzzle brakes that usually came in 155 or 105 millimeter. Some of the modern US Army’s weapons were towed, but many more had been self-propelled, usually mounted to a tank-chassis. Luke didn’t know how to measure in millimeters, but every barrel he could see appeared to be at least six inches wide at the mouth, with no brakes to be seen. As close as the barrels were to one another, Luke realized that none of the guns could still be attached to their original bases. “They’re some sort of hybrids?”
“They are,” Wyatt confirmed, “but I’ll let First Sergeant Logan explain the nuts and bolts to you.”
He pointed to a huge gate swinging open over the road. “There’s the old warhorse now.”
The soldier in charge of the Preston defenses was a forty-something rock of a man with what appeared to be a perpetual scowl etched across his sun-creased face. He stood in the path of the Jeep, clearly confident that the vehicle would stop rather than run him over.
Wyatt motioned for Luke to get out as he shouted to the local commander, “This is the guy I messaged you about; meet my friend, Captain Luke Smith.”
First Sergeant Logan held out his hand. “Captain, huh?” He looked Luke over with a practiced eye as Luke briefly wondered if his own, pre-bite hand would have been crushed in the veteran soldier’s vice-like grip. “Captain of an Eagle-Scout troop or something?”
Luke didn’t wait for the Ranger to explain. “I was given battlefield promotion to the rank of captain by the commander of the Allied Resistance Army.”
“Never heard of it,” Logan declared.
Luke continued. “I was part of a group of survivors, about five-hundred strong, in northern Indiana. We eventually established communications with what appears to be the largest, and by far the best organized, political unit remaining in North America: the state of Utah. Since then, we’ve established alliances with settlements from the Great Lakes to Monroe, Louisiana. We’re still fighting the war. If you have an hour or two, I can fill you in on what’s been happening around the country since the outbreak.”
As with Ranger Sanders a few days earlier, First Sergeant Logan was skeptical but intrigued; reliable news from beyond the region was virtually non-existent. “Hell kid, one thing I got plenty of these days is time. I’ve got other stuff, too, of course. That’s probably why Sanders brought you here, so let’s go have that conversation.”
CHAPTER 25
Jack and Carter had withdrawn from the scheduled trip to the Red River Depot, trusting that project to Captain Harden and his troops. Once John and Tina had shared the intel about the Norco Refinery, gleaned from the soldiers captured at the Castle, the possibility of interfering with Barnes’ flow of fuel for his fleet of helicopters was simply too tempting for Jack to pass up. They’d discreetly informed Harden and the settlement’s leadership of their need for information regarding refining in the New Orleans area, and the biofuel facility in particular. Part of Jack wanted to loudly advertise for anyone who knew anything about the Norco area or renewable jet fuel to come forward, but
he didn’t want to tip his hand in the unlikely event that Barnes had managed to insert spies in Vicksburg, as he had in Fort Wayne. While they waited for Harden to uncover people with the right background or connections, Jack, Carter, Tina, and John did their homework with the resources they had available.
Three days after their private meeting with Vicksburg leadership, T.C. tracked Jack and Carter down at his grandmother’s cabin. The teen had been running, which offered a clue as to the value of the message he carried. “Captain Harden ordered me to inform you that he’d found several people with information related to a mission you were considering.”
If T.C. had hoped to elicit any hints as to the nature of the mission, he was immediately disappointed when Carter spoke. “Thanks, son, now run on back and tell yer boss that we’ll be along directly.”
T.C. looked from Carter to Jack to the kittens wrestling in the corner. “I’ll tell him that you guys are too busy playing with little kitties to be bothered right now unless you tell me what the mission is, Uncle Carter.”
Carter laughed as he strolled over to the door. “I may have promised yer sister that I’d cat-sit ‘til she and the little girls get back from yer momma’s place, and it ain’t no insult to my manhood . . .” T.C. slowly backed up as Carter approached him, but he wasn’t fast enough to duck out of reach when Carter made his move. In a flash, Carter had his nephew pinned to the wall. “Now it’s yer manhood that might be in question—ever hear of an atomic wedgie?”
T.C. peered around Carter at Jack. “A little help here, please?”
Jack leaned back in his chair, stretched his legs out in front of him, and folded his arms behind his neck. “I don’t think Carter needs any help with an atomic wedgie—he’s only sent a couple guys to the hospital that I know of . . .”
Carter flipped T.C. around and tossed him out the door. “Go tell Harden we’ll be there directly, and next time ya get mouthy with me I ain’t gonna be so generous.”
