Steele surveyed the volunteers. He may as well have given them broomsticks.
Half the group held them as if they were holding an electric eel; the other half hugged them tight as if they never wanted to let them go.
“Which one, old-timer?” Thunder boomed.
“Nothing better than an M1 Garand,” Bengy said, holding his wood stocked gun out for his own inspection. “Like an old friend she is,” the old man said to himself.
“Is this a machine gun?” Steve asked, holding the AR-15.
Steele took a deep breath. This is going to be a long day.
KINNICK
Golden Triangle, CO
A green little airplane inched its way up a giant flat flight screen over twenty feet high. The number US 19 was tagged on it. Only a few planes floated on the black radar screen like a 1980’s video game. Kinnick watched the NORAD operations center work as he waited for the vice president. For hours, he sat with the operations staff, staring at the green planes that ticked across the screen from Alaska to Peterson Airfield. Blips of helicopters shot in and out of Peterson’s airspace. Combat runs.
“You got any fast movers going?” Kinnick asked a female captain sitting at a computer. The woman glanced at Kinnick, removing strands of blonde hair from behind her ear, and gave him a flash of white teeth.
“A few, but most of the airfields where they’re stationed are offline. A squadron of F-16s ended up here, but not many of them to go around. Peterson is a slow mover airfield and a large portion of Air Force Space Command. We mostly do resupply with the option to intercept from other airfields around the nation. We don’t really have an air-to-air threat so most of our resources like fuel are going to close air support. Apaches, Cobras and a squadron of A-10s up from Davis-Monthan.”
“How are the space boys doing?”
“They’ve been scrambling since we started losing satellites.”
She looked at his Army Combat Uniform. “You an Army flyer?”
“Air Force, actually. C-130 Hercules. Spent a little bit of time here, but that seems like a lifetime ago.”
She glanced at his uniform, raising an eyebrow. “What’s with the Army uniform?”
He chuckled, looking down at his uniform. He pulled on the jacket sleeve. “You could say that I’ve been adopted. Always a flyer, no matter what uniform I wear.”
“We’ve been looking for more pilots. Our crews have been running ragged on only a few hours of sleep a night.” They flew high in the sky above the ruined earth. Miles away from the dead bodies and their rotting stench. Miles away from the cries for help. Thousands of meters from the infected, marching unknown below him. Easy to forget the reality when you were in the clouds.
Kinnick gave her a grim smile. “I think my fight is going to be on the ground for this war. A friend once told me that boots on the ground was the only way to really win a war, and I think he’s got the right idea on this one.”
The captain looked nervous as if he were asking her to get on the frontline.
“You been off this base? You seen any of them?” Kinnick asked.
“No, not after the lockdown. All I hear are the horror stories.” She looked down at her keyboard as if the keys were the only thing keeping her alive.
A man in a blue uniform with stars on his shoulders entered the floor from the vice president’s War Room. He marched for Kinnick with purpose in his step.
“Maybe when your shift is done we can grab a coffee? Talk about better days.”
She covered her microphone with her hand, glancing down at his full bird on the front of his uniform. “Is that an order, sir?”
“No, ma’am, and I’m retired.”
She gave him a soft smile with her slightly pursed rose lips. “Sure.”
“I’m not even sure I know your name, Captain.”
“It’s Gallagher, sir.”
“You can call me, Mike.”
“Okay, Mike.” She smiled a bit and her eyes darted behind him. Kinnick could feel the general’s presence.
“Colonel Kinnick?”
“Yes, sir.” Kinnick stood at attention.
The three-star general in a blue army dress uniform nodded. “I’m General Monroe. Stand easy.”
Kinnick relaxed. Old habits died hard.
“You may come with me. The vice president is ready for you.”
The general’s eyes fell upon the captain, now trying to look busy at her computer screen.
“I see Captain Gallagher has been taking care of you while you were waiting,” the broad-shouldered general said to him.
Kinnick’s mouth quivered, thinking about smiling. “Yes, sir. She has been very accommodating. Gave me a chance to catch up on the ongoing aviation operations.”
“She’s a good airman. We all have a part to play in this war,” Monroe said.
“That’s correct, sir.”
“Follow me.” The general waved him forward. “I read your after-action report on the search and rescue mission. That’s some damn good work. I’m thinking about recruiting you for my division. You set the bar high. By the time this is done, you may have a promotion lined up.”
I’m not doing this for promotion. This is survival. “With all due respect, I’m retired, sir.”
The general opened the door, holding it into the War Room.
“No one’s retired anymore.”
Kinnick entered the room. The vice president sat at the head of his War Room conference table. A four-star general with glasses sat on his right in a blue uniform. Must be NORAD’s base commander, an Air Force general. An Air Force one-star general sat on the four-star’s right. Monroe took a seat on the vice president’s left. A collection of colonels, lieutenant colonels, and majors sat on either side of the filled table. The vice president smiled at something the four-star said and nodded to Kinnick.
“Colonel Kinnick. It’s good to see you again,” the vice president said. He wore the same stained shirt and loose tie he had worn the day before. “I see you met General Monroe, commanding officer of Fort Carson. He has adopted all ground forces for continuing operations, and this is General Daugherty, highest ranking general in our armed forces as we speak. He is developing the strategy to take back America.” The blue-uniformed Air Force general nodded to Kinnick, looking over his glasses.
General Daugherty pointed. “Why don’t you take a seat, and we will get started.”
Eyes turned toward Kinnick. A single empty seat sat at the opposing side of the table across from Vice President Brady. Kinnick took the leather armrests in his hands and settled in, not finding the seat comfortable.
Vice President Brady looked like a mess instead of the Leader of the Free World. His American flag pin on his lapel was tilted a bit to the left. The military men around him looked clean and well-kempt, the stress of war not showing real strain on their physical appearance. Vice President Brady treated his appearance with the air of a divorced bachelor. Unshaven. Messy hair. Dirty clothes. He folded his hands together on the table.
“Everyone here knows the gravity of the situation. General Daugherty has put forth a plan to eliminate the infected that will quickly gain us the upper hand in this conflict. Tactical nuclear strikes along the West Coast. Please elaborate, General.”
“Yes, sir,” Daugherty stood. He clicked a button on his remote control and a giant map of the United States lit up at the back of the room.
“Gentlemen, our nation hangs by a thread. The enemy has taken strangleholds of both our coastlines, driving us inland and pinching us in the middle of the nation. We’re estimating a ninety-three percent infection rate. Most of our seven percent is sitting in-between the Rockies and the Mississippi which means we are effectively surrounded. We cannot fight on two fronts in this battle. With limited forces at our disposal, we must free up one of our flanks in order to concentrate our forces on the other. As we speak, millions of infected march from cities along the West Coast toward the interior. Countless more reside in the cities themsel
ves and will eventually make their way here. They will not stop.” He glanced down at his notes. “Has everyone been briefed on Operation Just Resolve?”
The officers around the room nodded their heads, affirming yes.
“Good. Let me be brief. Just Resolve is a multitiered approach. We still have access to considerable nuclear assets within our strategic triad. The USS Kentucky and the USS Louisiana are Ohio-class submarines and sitting off the coast of California as we speak, carrying twenty-four thermonuclear warheads each. They are currently eighty-seven days into a ninety-day patrol. They are reaching their capacity to function without resupply. We can hold them for probably an extra week off the coast, but they will be ineffective after that.”
“They can’t resupply in Alaska?” Kinnick asked. Daugherty looked irritated by the interruption. He glared over his glasses but answered the question.
“The USS Kentucky and USS Louisiana will travel to Anchorage after their mission is complete. If we send them now, that puts us over a week behind for any offensive strikes. A week we do not have. We could have millions of infected on our doorstep in a week. Worse yet, we could have them on the move, too spread out for an effective response.” He glared around the table.
“May I continue?” Daugherty asked the group. “Those aren’t our only assets. We have two B2 bomber squadrons able to fly from Peterson as well as a squadron of F-16s that can be outfitted if need be. The problem is our GPS systems. All of our GPS stations, except the one here in Colorado Springs, are offline. As we know, our systems must recalibrate to stay accurate. There hasn’t been recalibration in over a month. Lack of appropriate navigation capabilities will hamper our efforts severely. However, I have faith in my squadrons here that they will find their targets if asked to do it the old fashion way.”
A lieutenant colonel with short brown hair smiled broadly. “My boys are up to the challenge.”
“That’s good, Colonel Hicks. We need them on their A-game for this operation,” Daugherty said.
“We will move the USS Kentucky and the USS Louisiana north and use them to strike San Francisco and San Jose, Seattle, Portland, Sacramento, and Spokane. This will allow them the opportunity to get a head start on their resupply run.
Vice President Brady looked miserable at the end of the table. Kinnick saw him burp under this breath and blow it to the side.
Vice President Brady placed his hands on the edge of the table. “Anybody want a drink?” Vice President Brady said. He looked around at the officers and abruptly stood up. He walked over to the cabinet holding his scotch decanter near the head of the room. “I feel like we could all use one. Can’t have a good ‘let’s nuke the United States,’ conversation without one.” Daugherty watched the vice president with apparent disgust behind his back. The vice president fumbled with the crystal top of the decanter. “I think that was Churchill who said that.”
“No, sir. May I continue the briefing?”
The vice president didn’t say anything but ripped the top off the decanter. The crystal on crystal friction rang around the room.
Daugherty punched a button on his remote and the subs’ attack routes lit up. He clicked another button, bringing up mini-airplanes headed west.
“Colonel Hicks, we will need your squadrons to hit Los Angeles, Phoenix, San Diego, Las Vegas, Tucson, and if we can get it done, Albuquerque and Salt Lake City. I have half a mind to have you hit some targets below the border. General Urban has been screaming about proper air support for weeks. Hitting some targets below Texas may alleviate some pressure on his command, but I’m not sure we’re going to get the go-ahead on that.”
“General Daugherty,” the vice president interrupted. He spoke over his shoulder. The general’s chin lowered to his chest.
“Yes, sir.”
Brady’s words slurred a bit as he spoke. “Can somebody get me some ice?”
General Daugherty glared at a major. “Major Day, can you oblige the Vice President?” The major stood and hurried from the room.
The vice president watched him go. “Wait, Major.” Day stopped looking admonished. The vice president handed him the ice bucket. “Can’t forget this.” Day took the ice bucket and fled the War Room.
The vice president turned back to the table. “You’re sure this is the best plan? What about the ‘Mother of All Bombs’ bomb?” He waved a hand to his side as he spoke. “Wouldn’t that negate any fallout concerns?”
“I’m not sure of any other way to put this clearly. We’re on the brink. Infection rates are through the roof. Here.” Daugherty clicked the map off and pulled up another.
The vice president raised a hand in the air. “I’ve seen it plenty of times.”
Daugherty licked his lips. “The GBU-43/B Massive Ordnance Air Blast bombs are off the table. We have fifteen in our arsenal and they only have the explosive yield of a small tactical nuclear weapon. We need these infected hotbeds off the table with a certainty that only nuclear weapons can give us.”
The vice president nodded. The door clicked quietly open and Day tried to sneak back into the room, carrying the bucket of ice.
The vice president stared his way and waved him forward. “Hurry up, now,” he said. Day handed it to the vice president, keeping his head low.
“Thanks, Champ.” The major hurried to go take his seat.
“Let’s continue with the brief. Our-,” Daugherty’s voice stopped.
The vice president dug his hand into the ice. The ice loudly crunched and broke, the sound magnified by the bucket. “We are talking about destroying every major city center on the West Coast. I need assurances.” He clinked ice cubes into his crystal glass. He dropped them one at a time, waiting for General Daugherty’s response.
The general frowned as he thought. His nostrils flared. “I will elaborate again. The state of your armed forces is abysmal. We’ve been over the contingency plans. We have only a small fraction of our armed forces operational, and we must stem the tide of the infected. The only radical change to this trend is our nuclear arsenal. I don’t want to do it. By God, it is not what these missiles were made for, but I believe it will get the job done.”
“Mr. Vice President, what if I told you that you didn’t have to drop any nukes?” Kinnick said, calling out across the room.
Vice President Brady spun around. His eyebrows rose on his forehead in attention, and he brought his drink up to the center of his chest. “Colonel Kinnick. I was wondering when you would speak up.” The vice president smiled at him.
Daugherty shot daggers with his eyes at Kinnick. Don’t jump the chain of command if you want to keep your job. Kinnick ignored him. Fuck it. We’ll all be dead soon anyway.
Brady slurped the liquor from his glass as he took his seat again. “Well, what do you have for me? I trust it is a better plan than General Daugherty put forth.” Daugherty chewed his lip barely able to restrain his anger. The general’s eyes blinked rapidly behind his glasses.
The vice president dared him with unafraid eyes. “General, do we have an issue?”
Daugherty’s face turned red and he glared at Kinnick.
“I gave the colonel twenty-four hours to come up with an alternative plan. Now, let’s hear it.”
“Thank you, sir,” Kinnick said.
Brady nodded and spread his arms out wide.
“No one will say I didn’t exhaust all my options. All of you men can attest to that.” He pointed at a few of his officers.
Kinnick stood up, clutching his paper map. He rolled the large map of Colorado out across the table. The state was a basic rectangle. Highway arteries stretched across the state in the shape of a cross, spread up and down, left and right, following the edge of the Rocky Mountains. He waved at a Day. “Can you hold that down?”
Day stood and held down a corner of the map.
“Thank you. All right.” Licking his lips, Kinnick started, leaning on the table. “The Rocky Mountains provide a natural barrier between us and the Western cities.”
>
“That’s exactly why it makes sense for us to nuke them. The fallout will be trapped on the other side of the mountains,” Lieutenant Colonel Gaines said with a reassuring look to Daugherty.
I’m not going to get support from former colleagues here. Kinnick pulled a marker from his pocket and held it up like a professor in class. “You are correct, Colonel, but what if we didn’t need to drop the nukes at all. If we can secure and hold these few passes through the Rockies,” he said, as he circled each pass on the map, “we will be able to stop any large hordes of infected from attacking our rear, buying us time.”
“I would say you are trying to do this the really, really hard way. We would bleed our remaining forces dry trying to hold the passes. How many soldiers would we need to hold those passes? Ten thousand?” said Daugherty.
Dark-blue uniformed General Monroe shifted in his seat. “Without the majority of Fort Carson here, it would be very difficult. I have to agree the drain on manpower will stretch us thin.”
“It won’t. I assure you. Watch.” Kinnick continued to circle the passes. “I have narrowed it down to the major roadways through Colorado.” He drew a large X north and a bit west of the center of Colorado. “We start with the Eisenhower Tunnel. We will need to block that first. This should divert the main body of the infected outwards, pinning them within the canyons of the mountain range. They will eventually funnel toward Dunluce Pass. Here.” He dragged the marker over the map a few inches and tapped the pass with it. Black dots blotted the paper. “I would say a company of men could hold that against tens of thousands of infected for a period of time. A couple of platoons or even a single platoon at South Fork, Mosquito, and Independence Passes. Combined with your combat aviation brigades and A-10s, even the F-16s, we should be able to hold. Give me a battalion, and I will hold Colorado.”
Daugherty shook his head in disbelief. “You’re telling me that you can fend off roughly sixty million infected with five hundred soldiers? You’re insane. We’ve had entire brigade combat teams and divisions decimated by these things.”
Kinnick looked at the General Daugherty. What will you do? Try to ruin my career? I’m retired. No place to go. No asses to kiss. Only an opportunity to get eaten alive on a mountaintop in the middle of nowhere. Kinnick looked at Daugherty and leaned into the table. “I only need to hold until it snows. We’re guaranteed snow by mid-November, which means I only need to hold for about a month. I can do it.”
The End Time Saga Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 92
