STRYKER - OMNIBUS: BOOKS 3-5: A Post Apocalyptic Tale

by Bobby Andrews

“They’ll have to do.”

  “That doesn’t sound very encouraging.”

  “If you are looking for ‘Mr. Feel Good’ keep on looking.

  Edwards sat next to Stryker in the second of the matching lawn chairs.

  “Seriously, how bad is it?” Stryker’s eyes bored into Edwards’.

  “It’s not good. Most of them are terrible shots, but we have enough SAWS so we can all carry them. So, it’s more a matter of volume than marksmanship.”

  “Claymores?”

  “Only a few. We did get a lot of C-4, and we have around twenty AT-4s.”

  “That should do the job,” Stryker replied.

  “Do you know where the terrorists are now?”

  “Thomas has the drone up now. If they still are moving at night, the drone can pick them up with the infra-red. But, my guess is they will break camp at around sundown, so we may be able to get a better look at them.”

  The men each examined the picnic table where Haley and Elle had joined Erin in chatting with the female sailors.

  “Well, I guess tomorrow we head out and place the charges.” Edwards spoke without taking his eyes of the women.”

  “If they are moving, we might as well. It may take two or three days for them to get here, so we have some time to do a run through. We can head out tomorrow afternoon.”

  “What are you doing in the morning?” Edwards wore a confused look.

  “Getting married.”

  “What?”

  “I’m going to ask Thomas if he and the Chaplin will marry us.” Stryker’s face split into a broad grin.

  “Does Erin know?”

  “Well, we already agreed to get married, so yes she knows. She just doesn’t know it’s going to happen tomorrow.”

  “What can I do?”

  “Keep it to yourself; I want to surprise her.”

  “What else?”

  “Take Elle into town and find a wedding dress for Erin and, if you can find a suit that fits me, get that too. We also need flowers, and dresses for Elle and Haley. You might get a suit too. I need a best man.”

  Edwards rolled his eyes. “Anything else?”

  “Yeah, I need a ring for Erin. So, hit a jewelry store and get a giant rock.”

  “What about you?”

  “What about me,” Stryker replied with a confused expression.

  “What’s your ring size?”

  “I don’t know. I never wore jewelry. That’s for Air Force guys.”

  “I can get your dress uniform from the house,” Edwards offered. “I’m not sure I can find a suit that would fit you.”

  “I guess that would be nice, but don’t knock yourself out on my side of things. This is for Erin more than me.

  Edwards laughed briefly, and then said, “I’ll see what I can find.”

  Stryker watched Edwards walk over to Elle, grab her by the arm, and they walked back toward him, stopping at the steps to the porch.

  “Tomorrow?” Elle grinned at him.

  “I guess so,” Stryker smiled back at her as he said it.

  “Why tomorrow?”

  “Why not?”

  “Can you help us unload the Humvees?” Edwards looked at Stryker with a serious expression. “We don’t have much daylight left.”

  “Sure.”

  The walked over to the line of Humvees that sat parked in front of the building and began unload endless cases of grenades, AT-4s, SAWS and ammo boxes and the pre-packaged units of C-4. Only three Claymores sat on the ground when they finished.

  Stryker looked at Edwards with an expression of disappointment.

  “What?” He replied. “I can’t bring what wasn’t there.”

  “I know, but we are going to have to be a lot more careful with the C-4. You and I are going to be at the end of the cut and we’re going to have twenty fighters above us. It’s going to be tricky.”

  “That’s why I brought the grenades,” he replied. “I kind of modified the plan.”

  “Want to tell me why?”

  “Half of them don’t shoot for shit and why have them all exposed the whole time when some can just toss the M-67s from cover and achieve the same effect? We can start with the grenades, then open up with the SAWS, and have the half who can kind of shoot do mag changes while the other half keeps pitching grenades until the shooters are loaded again.”

  “That would work.”

  “I thought so.”

  “Did you train them that way?”

  “It didn’t occur to me until I saw how bad they were, so we put the grenades in the last attack scenario, and it worked pretty well.” Edwards looked away for a moment.

  “I think that can work,” Stryker replied.

  “Well the pressure on the terrorists would be constant and they would have a hard time figuring out how to return fire. Every time one of our guys runs dry and does a mag change, the guy next to him would start heaving the grenades. It should screw them up pretty well.”

  “Good thinking,” Stryker replied after a moment. “I wish I thought of that myself. But, we still need the C-4 charges.”

  “Let’s worry about that tomorrow. Right now, Elle and I have to find all the stuff for your wedding. The rest of it can wait.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Edwards spun on his heel, got into his Humvee, and he and Elle drove away.

  Stryker glanced back to where Erin sat, still chatting animatedly with the female sailors at the table. His eyes wandered around the base, looking for hard points from which they could mount a defense of the base, but he quickly realized this was not a firebase with sandbags and set defenses. It was going to be a turkey shoot for anyone who attacked the facility. He gazed back at Erin, shook his head, and went back to examining the base more carefully.

  The whole thing unfolded like a well-plotted movie. They would keep everyone down with sniper fire, and then they would engage the base from the front with suppressing fire. The Stingers on their Humvees would move forward and take out the Navy Humvees at the gate, and then the attack would start in earnest.

  They would use the semis to get into the base and split up, flanking the defenders on both sides.

  One group would peel off and use the Ma Deuces of their own Humvees against the facility. The big guns would lay down suppressing fire against the defenders, keeping them down again, and the terrorists would go from building to building until there was nobody left alive.

  It was so vivid that Stryker had to shake his head to clear the images from his mind.

  He sat in the lawn chair in a trance for a moment, and finally concluded that the best defense of the base would be to move everyone back to the carrier. The massive deck was a perfect overlook on the terrain around them, and there was only one way to get on the ship. It was surrounded by water and the pier was the only approach.

  His mind ran through several scenarios, trying to image how the ship could be overcome and, try as he might, he just couldn’t see how that would be possible, absent gross negligence from the crew.

  Stryker glanced at the ship and wondered if they had any firepower that could be depressed to the point of effectiveness against a ground attack, and then shrugged.

  There are certain things you can’t control, and in the end, they had the weapons that would keep the ship safe, were it to come to that. Stryker wished he know more about weapons systems on carriers, but decided to lay it out for Thomas and let him worry about it.

  His deal was the cut and making sure it never got to that.

  They would have to cede the progress made on getting the base up and running again, in the event of an all-out assault, but there was absolutely no way they could be overrun by an attack from the ground, and the cost to the terrorists would be close to absolute.

  He smiled for a moment, and they wondered how Thomas would take that bit of information.

  Stryker was still glancing around the base, testing his assumptions and conclusions when Thomas entered his peripheral vision as he walked down the p
ier toward the spot where Stryker sat.

  He waved as he approached, and Stryker waved back.

  “The drones just got back,” Thomas said as he approached.

  “And?”

  “They aren’t moving.”

  “Why?”

  “We don’t know.”

  “Are they tending to injured or anything like that?”

  “We didn’t see that on the feed,” Thomas replied.

  “Any of your guys have any theories about why they stopped?”

  “No.” Thomas answered.

  “Hmm.” Stryker fell back into the trance like state that used to disturb Edwards and the others around him.

  “What are you thinking?” Thomas asked.

  “Anytime the facts change, you have to change your thinking, and I don’t like the fact I don’t understand this change.”

  “What can you do about it?”

  “Go get eyes on them and try to figure out what they are up to.” Stryker examined the high-rises across the road, and then added, “I don’t think we have much choice in the matter.”

  “I’ll leave it to you.”

  “Good.” Stryker got up and walked back to the carrier.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Stryker stared down at his Marine Corps Dress Blue uniform laying on the bunkbed in the cabin where they lived on the ship. The medal salad was on his blouse, absent the Silver Star he refused to show up for.

  The last time he wore the uniform was shortly before the death of his wife and daughter, was during the Marine Corps Ball three years prior.

  November 10th was a day no Marine would forget any more than they would forget their child’s birthday. It was the day the Marine Corps was formed in 1775, and the celebration of that birthday was never overlooked.

  Marines in battle would stop during lulls in the fighting and toast each other with canteens. Others, lucky enough to not be in combat, attended the Ball, and Stryker had been that lucky three years ago.

  He remembered the ceremony; the last one he would ever see, and a tear leaked out of his eye.

  The music started with “Attention,” and the “Adjutants call” sounded and the crowd grew silent.

  The Color Guard moved past him and the National Anthem was played.

  The Marine Corps hymn played as the birthday cake moved by their table on a rolling cart.

  The message from the Commandant played on a stereo.

  The Color Guard retreated back to the rear of the building.

  The youngest Marine present stood to the side of the oldest Marine in the room.

  The ceremonial sword was presented to the oldest Marine, who cut the cake into three small pieces.

  The first piece was given to a Congressman, who was the guest of honor, and the second was given to the oldest Marine, who passed it to the youngest Marine, and it represented the passing of knowledge from the old to the young. The older Marine, a large hulking man with lines etched deeply into his face, smiled down at the youngest marine.

  It was a ceremony that was steeped in tradition; unchanging and deliberate as the Corps itself. The passing of the torch to the next generation of marines was a changing of the guard. They would, like their predecessors, stand and die fighting if that was what the nation required of them. It represented an unbroken chain of responsibility and loyalty that passed to each new generation as the older one began to move to the sidelines toward retirement.

  It was timeless and represented the continuity of generations of loyal American marines who fought and died for their country.

  Stryker gazed at the youngest marine present. He was a small boy in his view; slender and sandy-haired. His body not yet even fully developed by the rigors of life in the corps, and he seemed frail and fearful of the limelight. He looked nervous and out of place standing next to the grizzled veteran.

  The Color Guard retreated and Stryker glanced over at his wife, who was weeping.

  “It’s okay,” he said, his own voice tremulous.

  “My God, that was the most moving thing I have ever seen.” She continued weeping silently.

  Stryker cried as the memory faded; all those good men and women gone, and, why? He felt outrage at the fact that all those people were dead, and his beloved corps was gone too.

  Edwards and he might well be the last remaining Recon Marines on the planet. It was a sobering thought.

  He thought of his wife and daughter and how much he loved them both. How he ended up burying them together in a shallow grave in San

  Diego bothered him to no end, and he still wanted to take them both back to Texas and put them in the family plot.

  He remembered how hard it was to lose them. The agony of the last two days before they died was as close to unbearable as he could imagine, and he pushed the thought away.

  He thought about Erin and the group that was now with him.

  Stryker knew the terrorists were about to attack him and the people he loved, felt a surge of anger, and then felt himself settle.

  He would do anything to protect Erin and the rest of their group.

  Sentiment be damned, he would harden himself and get everyone through the next challenge.

  He had lost enough, and wasn’t going to let that group take anything more from him then they already had by spreading the plague that stole almost everything that was precious to him.

  “Fuckers are just going to die,” he muttered as he picked up his uniform. “They are so going to die.”

  CHAPER SEVEN

  Stryker stood in his dress blues in the chapel of the Nimitz. Edwards stood next to him dressed in a suit. Haley and Elle stood on the other side of room, both dressed in summer dresses.

  The chapel was filled to capacity and the Captain Thomas stood with Erin at the back of the room, and then started moving forward with Erin’s arm looped through his. He was also in dress uniform and Erin wore a white gown with a long train that Edwards had liberated from a store in town. She also carried a bouquet of artificial flowers that Elle had found somewhere.

  Stryker stared at Erin as she made her way forward. Her expression could only be described as blissful. He smiled at her is she neared, and Thomas offered Stryker her arm. They turned to face the Chaplin, who had hastily thrown together the first wedding ceremony he would do after Stryker and he discussed the vows.

  As they turned to face the front of the chapel, Edwards and the ladies stepped toward them until they stood in a tight formation.

  “All be seated,” the Chaplin intoned.

  A brief prayer followed.

  “We will now do the vow,” the Chaplin said. “And, there is only one.” He motioned for Stryker to speak.

  “I promise to love you and defend you with every fiber of my being,” Stryker said, his expression sincere and open. Erin repeated the vow and the Chaplin pronounced them man and wife.

  “That was easy,” Erin whispered as Stryker bent down to kiss her softly.

  The room filled with lusty cheers as Erin threw the flowers over her shoulder without looking back.

  “What are we doing for our honeymoon?”

  “Let’s go kill some terrorists.”

  “Really?” Erin looked at him with doubt.

  “Yep.”

  “We need to do this?”

  “Yep.”

  “No reception?”

  “I have a reception planned, but not for us.”

  “Sounds good to me.” She shrugged. “Any particular reason we’re changing the plan?”

  “I have a wife now that I have to protect.”

  “When are you going to tell me the real reason?”

  “When we clear the base.”

  “Well, I guess we’re taking some good stuff with us,” Erin said. Her face broke into a broad grin.

  Stryker just nodded his head.

  “Gear up,” Stryker said to Edwards. “We’ll meet you at the main gate in five.”

  Thomas approached and shook his hand and then hugged Erin.

/>   “Any chance you can get that drone up and over the camp?” Stryker asked.

  “What you got in mind?”

  “I want to take out their Stingers, if we can, before we do anything else.”

  “Why the change?” He asked.

  “I’m tired of waiting, and I don’t like the fact they are not moving. At the very least, I want to understand what changed. At best, I want them without the Stingers if and when they get here.”

  “I can have it on station in fifteen minutes.”

  “If they start moving, let me know immediately.” Stryker said.

  “You got it.” The captain turned and left the room at a brisk walk.

  “I love you too,” Erin smiled at him.

  “I know, you have wonderful taste in men,” He kissed her again, and they started back to their quarters.

  Stryker finished loading spare mags and donned his tactical vest, checking to see his other loads were all in the right places. When he turned to Erin, he saw she was still fussing with loading NVGs and spare mags and batteries.

  “I’m going down to load the Humvee. I’ll see you there.”

  “Okay,” she replied to his back as he walked through the door. “Lord, that man needs to work on his bedside manner,” she said to herself, chuckling briefly and turning back to her work.

  Edwards was standing at the side of Stryker’s Humvee considering a pile of weapons at his feet and wondering what to load. He saw Stryker approach and glanced back at the pile of ordinance that sat on the ground in front of him.

  “Bring all the AT-4’s and a Barrett,” Stryker said, moving by him and stopping to place his carbine into the Humvee.

  “All of them?”

  “Yes.”

  “You want to tell me what the hell we’re doing?”

  “I will.” Stryker shrugged.

  “When?”

  “When you, Erin, and I clear the base.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I don’t want to scare the shit out of everyone.”

  Edwards drove them through the gate, and they got on the freeway and headed east toward Alpine. Erin sat in the back seat with her M-4 pointed to the side of the vehicle.