by Kyle Pratt
A couple hours later, Lieutenant Shaffer moved close. “We need to go,” he whispered.
Caden nodded, and motioned for the others to follow.
For nearly an hour, the five men moved in a northeast direction, and then reached the edge of the forest not far from their position the previous day. The road they had followed yesterday stretched out before him.
Holding his fist up, Caden signaled the others to stop. He moved behind a tree, huddled over the map and held the red light close.
Shaffer came alongside.
Caden pointed to a spot on the map.
Shaffer nodded.
They were less than two miles from their objective.
Caden turn off the light and listened for vehicles, helicopters or soldiers, but he heard only the breeze and the waters of the nearby river. Confident no hostile forces were nearby, he motioned for the men to follow.
They continued northeast along the forest edge with the road on their right for several minutes. Following the highway as it turned east, Caden spotted four soldiers guarding the crossing.
He signaled the team to back up.
Out of sight of the soldiers, Caden and Shaffer studied the map.
“Can we avoid the sentries by going this way?” Caden whispered as he traced the route with his finger.
“Maybe.” Shaffer nodded. “But there could be others.”
“We’ll deal with that when it comes.” Caden led the team across the road and into the forest on the south side. Only a few yards wide, the narrow band of woods sloped down to the river edge, and in other spots the waters reached through creating sloughs and wetlands.
Trudging through cold marsh and dark forest, progress slowed, and they struggled to remain silent. The cold waters soaked Caden’s pant legs and boots. Soon he couldn’t feel his toes.
Wet and behind schedule, they came to the edge of the woods as it sloped up toward the railroad bridge.
Caden snapped his fist up. Six soldiers, three on each end, guarded the span. They moved back, out of sight, into a grove of trees.
“Is there another way across?” Caden asked.
“No.” Shaffer shook his head. “Well, several miles upriver or back down it.”
“We could swim it,” Corporal Franklin suggested.
“Nope.” Shaffer frowned. “If hypothermia didn’t kill you the current would drag you under.”
Caden glanced at his watch. Shaffer was right about the river, but the orders were clear, he needed to be at the farmhouse in less than an hour. “Franklin, scout down river for a good crossing point. Hill, go upriver.”
Several minutes later Hill’s voice came over the radio. “Three Humvees less than a mile north and headed toward you.”
“Roger.” Caden replied as he hunkered down with Shaffer and Jackson.
Seconds later the vehicles pulled to a stop at the railroad bridge.
“What’s up sergeant?” The voice of the sentry carried on the still night air.
“We’re moving north. The traitors just launched an offensive.”
The sentry waved his arm and all six climbed into the Humvee.
The convoy continued on.
Caden warned Sergeant Hill the trucks were nearing. “After they pass, each of you make your way to the bridge and meet up with us on the other side.”
Clicks came back to him over the radio.
When the vehicles disappeared from view, Caden motioned for Shaffer and Jackson to follow, and then raced onto the span. As he neared the opposite side the sound of trucks rumbled across the night air.
“Humvees turned around. They’re coming back toward you,” Hill reported on the radio.
Caden pressed transmit. “Everyone get across the bridge as fast as possible.”
Jackson passed Caden near the end of the crossing. He followed the medic into the nearby trees. Breathing hard, Shaffer sprinted into the forest seconds later.
Franklin raced across the road and onto the span.
Caden heard vehicle engines race, but still couldn’t see them. Then automatic weapons thundered.
Franklin paused for a moment, then dashed across the bridge and into the woods.
“They spotted me.” Hill’s breathless report came over the earbud.
Alone, he raced along the forest edge toward the team.
Humvees followed.
Shots rang out.
The lone soldier fell.
The vehicles emptied. Soldiers surrounded the fallen man.
He would mourn the loss of Sergeant Hill, but now was not the time. Caden pushed the anger, sadness and self-doubt aside. He had a mission to complete and they were behind schedule. “Everyone change to the backup radio channel and move out.”
Seconds later, Franklin came alongside him. “Will the New America soldiers search for us?”
“Probably,” Caden whispered. “So shut up and move faster.” He didn’t know how far or wide, but they would search for infiltrators. Caden and his team needed to reach the rendezvous position first and then disappear into the forest—or they all might die tonight.
For several minutes the four remaining members of the team ran just inside the tree line, weaving around forest obstacles as they held a rapid pace.
Shaffer slowed and pointed to a dirt road. “Three hundred yards in that direction is the farmhouse.”
Caden breathed deeply. “Let’s go.”
The team hurried along both sides of the narrow rutted road toward the lone building ahead. Only shards of glass stood in the dark windows of the two-story wood building. Broken boards punctuated the porch railing.
Caden pulled his GPS from a pocket and checked the position. “Secure the area. This is the place.” The others spread out around the home. The wood creaked as he climbed the steps to the house. The front door stood open, but not inviting. He pushed his trepidation aside, along with the door, and stepped in.
A gun clicked near his ear.
* * *
Cape Girardeau County, Missouri, Friday, October 23rd
Darkness fell before Zach finished digging another defensive position. He had started counting the sandbags as he filled them, but lost track. Finally, Sergeant Garcia told the work party to get food and rest.
Yeah, like what else would Zach do with his off time? Play video games and update his social media status? He signaled to the sentries on his right and left that he was leaving the area. The guards waved them on, and returned their eyes to the river. He pulled a small knife from a pocket and punctured his new blisters as he walked to the makeshift campsite. Slowly his eyes scanned the depression in the ground that served as his new home. He sat on the barren cold earth and pulled an MRE from his rucksack. A couple minutes later he yanked it from the heating sleeve and shoveled semi-warm chicken mystery meal into his mouth.
Sleep would have been his usual next choice, but tonight a small group sat nearby reading and talking. He lay on his sleeping bag listening.
“If we can help change the course of the nation, then I think we should fight to do it,” a soldier said.
“No, Kevin, there aren’t that many of us.” A black soldier about Zach’s age protested. “What can we do?”
Kevin flipped the pages of the book in his hand. “What’s that verse in Second Chronicles say? ‘if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.’”
Zach sat up, and pulled a blanket around him.
“Durant’s New America isn’t going to humble itself, pray, or change,” another soldier said.
“I’m not sure a lot of people on our own side would.”
“God’s not asking the unbelievers to do anything.” Kevin shook his head. “It says if my people, which are called by my name. We’re the ones that have to stand in the gap as it says in Ezekiel.”
Zach stood, and with the blanket still wrapped around him, moved
closer. “Mind if I listen in?”
“Please, join us.” Kevin motioned for him to sit.
Zach did and immediately the black soldier introduced himself as Derrick. “Where’s that verse you mentioned?”
“Chapter twenty-two, verse thirty.” Kevin flipped through pages. Others did the same.
“I don’t have a Bible,” Zach said.
“Here take this one. We got a bunch more from a chaplain.” Kevin handed his own to him.
Zach held the pristine book to his nose. It even smelled new. “What was the verse you guys were talking about?”
Derrick helped Zach find the place.
Kevin pulled another book from his rucksack and turned the pages until he found the verse. “I sought for a man among them, that should make up the hedge, and stand in the gap before me for the land, that I should not destroy it: but I found none.”
With a pen Zach marked the verse, but he wasn’t sure what “stand in the gap,” meant. He continued to listen as the conversation turned to end times, tribulation and apocalypse. He didn’t understand most of it, and wanted to hear more, but long hours of night sentry duty, digging foxholes and the semi-warm meal all fought against him. His eyes drooped. He used an unfinished letter as a bookmark. The words of Ezekiel would have to wait for another day.
* * *
Alexander County, Illinois, Friday, October 23rd
Caden froze.
“Who are you?” a woman’s voice whispered. “And there is only one right answer.”
He considered ducking and grabbing for the gun, but the woman’s voice seemed familiar. He decided to try the truth. “Major Caden Westmore,” he said praying that was the right answer.
“They told me you were coming.” The arm with the gun relaxed. “But when you were late … I thought….”
“Becky? Is that you?” Caden turned and shook his head in disbelief. His old fiancée, the press secretary for Durant, stood before him. Old feelings leapt into his mind, along with anger at her choice to follow Durant. She was a traitor, but what should he do? Arrest her? “Are you the courier?”
“Courier?” She stepped closer and her long blonde hair shimmered in the moonlight. “What did they tell you?”
“Not much. There’s been a lot of secrecy.” The heavy coat, jeans and hiking boots seemed appropriate for the stealth rendezvous this night. In the time he had known her she had always dressed stylishly and feminine. Where did she get the farm clothes? He remembered her face as soft and gentle but, at least in the moonlight, he saw coldness there now. “Do you have the package?”
“I am the package!” she growled.
Chapter Thirty Nine
Alexander County, Illinois, Friday, October 23rd
“What?” Caden frowned. “I was sent here to get a package, not a person.”
She shook her head. “You were sent to get me.”
A whispered voice came through the bud in Caden’s ear. “This is Guide. Soldiers approaching from the south.”
Caden acknowledged Shaffer’s report, and then leaned close. “So, you were everything … the only thing … I was sent to retrieve?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I’ve got everything that you were to get.”
That answer hinted there was something else, but he had no time to question her. “Stay close to me.”
Gunfire erupted.
Caden grabbed Becky’s hand and ran to the back of the house. He pressed transmit on his radio. “Team, rendezvous back at the bridge.” Then he turned to Becky. “I need both hands for the rifle. Grab my jacket and hang on.” With weapon at the ready he led her from the house and into the forest.
For several minutes he continued deeper into the woods, and then turned south to arch toward the bridge. With each step he hoped Durant’s New America dragoons hadn’t left guards.
Becky panted, slowed and pulled on his jacket.
“We’re nearly there.” Caden steadied her then wrapped one arm around her waist. “You can do this. The rendezvous point should be near.” With his free hand he double clicked the radio.
A triple click came back to Caden. He took several more steps.
“Who goes there?” came over the earbud.
“Team Leader.”
“Advance,” Shaffer whispered from the darkness. “Come this way.”
As Caden drew near, the lieutenant stepped from the bushes, reached out an arm to Becky, and helped carry her to a nearby low spot.
The depression provided cover for the group. At the bottom, about five below the surrounding earth, Jackson leaned over a prone Franklin and wrapped a bandage around his abdomen. Shaffer and Becky sat nearby.
Caden slid closer to Franklin. “What happened?”
The wounded man’s eyes fluttered.
“Shot in the gut.” The medic glanced at Caden, and then continued his work.
Shaffer moved closer to Becky and drew his pistol. “Aren’t you Durant’s press—.”
Caden grabbed his arm. “She’s the mission. That’s all you need to know.” Still not entirely sure of the lieutenant’s allegiance, he reluctantly ordered him to guard the perimeter.
For the next several minutes, Caden listened to Franklin’s labored breathing. “Is there anymore you can do for him?”
Jackson shook his head. “He needs a hospital.”
Becky found a canteen and drank deeply.
“Are there guards on the railroad bridge?”
“Yes.” Shaffer nodded. “Four on each end.”
Caden tried to formulate a plan.
“We’ve got to go.” Becky tossed the empty canteen aside. “We’ll need to leave him.”
“No!” Caden snarled. “And either whisper or shut up.”
“You’ve got to get me back safely,” she said softly.
“I will, but we’re not leaving him.” Caden replied.
“He made the decision for us.” Jackson stood. “He’s dead.”
Becky stared at Caden, but said nothing.
“Movement in the forest.” Shaffer’s voice came in his ear.
“Roger.” Caden stood and checked his rifle. “Guide, return to camp, and we’ll head out.”
Jackson removed Franklin’s radio gear and offered it to Caden.
He shook his head. “Give it to her.”
“Team Leader, this is Guide. I’m coming in.” Shaffer’s words came over the radio, and then he appeared at the top of the depression. “Can we move Franklin?”
“That’s not necessary. He’s gone.” Jackson said as he put the mic on Becky.
Caden pointed west. “If we get separated meet at the Zodiac no later than 1100 zulu.” He grabbed Becky’s arm. “Move out.”
For nearly an hour the four weaved a general southwesterly course through unfamiliar forests and marshes.
“Stop.” Becky stumbled. “I can’t breathe.” She collapsed to the ground. “My feet hurt. I’ve got to rest.”
“We shouldn’t stop.” Shaffer continued on several steps.
“I’m the reason for this mission and I can’t go on.”
“Whisper,” Caden ordered. “Or use the throat mic.”
She huffed at him and pulled off her boot and sock.
Medic Jackson shined a red light on several large blisters that dotted her toes and heel.
“Don’t run many marathons, do you?” Shaffer mocked.
Becky glared, but said nothing.
“Jackson, do what you can for the blisters. We need her able to run.” Then he turned to Shaffer. “Scout ahead. We’ll catch up.” As the medic worked, Caden climbed from the depression, and circled the position as a sentry. For several minutes he heard and saw nothing.
Twigs snapped.
“Team this is Leader. Movement to the north.”
Gunfire erupted.
Becky screamed.
Footsteps thundered in his direction.
Becky darted out of the darkness.
Caden reached out and yanked her down beside him.
She screamed again.
Jackson fell inches away.
Caden knelt, returned fire, and checked the medic for a pulse.
Jackson was dead.
Caden fired again, clutched Becky’s arm and darted through the forest. He called over the radio as he ran. “Guide, rendezvous at the Zodiac.” He heard no reply.
Comforting darkness embraced them as the moon slid below the trees. For many minutes they hurried through the forest toward the Mississippi.
“Got to stop.” Becky pulled on his arm. “I don’t care if they shoot me, I’ve got to stop.”
Caden slowed his pace, and found a spot where a stream had cut a gully.
They hid behind a few rocks in the gulch.
“Where’s your pistol?” Caden asked as he looked her up and down.
“I dropped it earlier when you threw me to the ground.”
“Really?” He shook his head. “Do you know how many men have died to get you this far?”
“Huh? What?”
“You drop your gun and say you don’t care if you’re shot, but good men have died to keep you alive.”
“They’re soldiers. They fight. Some die. That’s what they do.”
“I’m a soldier.”
“You made that choice. You could have been someone of influence.”
Caden shook his head in disgust. “Why did you defect?”
“Because Durant is going to lose this war.”
“All of this is so you can be on the winning side?”
“Yes.” She shook her head. “I mean no. I’ve got valuable information. You should be glad I defected.”
“Maybe.” He sighed. “But why did you ask for me?”
“Most Constitutionalists want me dead, but I knew you wouldn’t shoot me.”
He stared at her and just for a moment pondered the possibility. “I hope the information you have is worth the lives of the good men who died to save you.” He handed her a canteen. “Drink some water, and then we need to go.”
She drank and returned the canteen to him. “These last few weeks Durant knew there was a spy in his midst. When I slipped out of New York three days ago they started ‘wanted dead or alive,’ announcements about me. I’ve been terrified since even before then, and the fear makes me … well, like I’ve been.” She breathed deeply and let it out slowly. “About whether the information is worth it or not, I’ll let you decide.
