“I hope he’s brought help,” Tabby said quietly.
The noise of the diesel truck stopped in proximity to the Starbucks store.
“Raven! Raven!” a man yelled from outside of the wreckage. There was a strain of panic in his voice as he yelled.
“Don’t yell, I’ll call to him,” Tabby said, placing a calming hand on the girl’s wrist.
Tabby gently eased away from the wreckage and stood. She could see through the gaping hole in the side of the building. The man was wearing a green combat uniform, tan boots and had a pistol strapped to his belt. He was assessing the damage, and trying to figure out how to get into the building.
“We’re here,” Tabby yelled. She waved her arms so that the man could zero in on her through the hole. “Your daughter’s here! Raven is here, but she’s trapped.” She said, getting his full attention.
“Trapped?” the man asked, closing the distance quickly. He was trying to crawl over the rubble and get to Tabby.
“Wait!” She held up her hands and the man stopped. “Don’t come any closer, you may shift the truck!”
The soldier looked at her, a vein pulsed on the side of his shaved head. His parental instinct wanted to rush through the warning. He looked at the pile of rubble, the truck and how the woman was still holding her hands out to stop him. Logic won over insistence, and his weight teetered on top of a steel beam.
“Okay,” he said to the woman, and she dropped her hands. “Raven!”
“I’m here Daddy,” the trapped girl spoke, her voice calm. “I don’t think I’m hurt, but I’m trapped.”
“I’m a surgeon, and I am working to extract her,” Tabby said, holding the screwdriver in her hand as if it gave her credibility.
“Are you cutting into her with that?”
Tabby looked at the screwdriver. “No, no, no, she is pinned against the cabinet by the truck, I removing one of the cabinet doors so that she can slide back and away from the bumper.
“Okay. That makes sense.” He was resigned to the facts of the situation. “What can I do to help?”
Tabby breathed a sigh. She would take any help she could get.
“My husband is trapped in the men’s room. His name is Seth, he’s a doctor also,” she added not knowing why it was important to tell the Army man that her husband was a doctor. “Can you get to him from the other side of the truck?”
The man didn’t move, he seemed to be torn between staying for his daughter and acting on the plea for help.
“Sir, I’ve got your daughter. I just need you to help with my husband. Raven will be fine.” Tabby added to reassure the man.
“Okay,” the man said, his voice reluctant.
“What’s your name?” Tabby asked.
“Horn, Colonel Horn,” he said, and turned to find a way into the men’s room.
Tabby turned back to her task. The sun was setting and she was loosing her light. She climbed back into the cabinet and began working on the screws to remove the hinges to the door that Raven was pinned against.
“He is all that I have left,” Raven said, her voice quiet, almost at a whisper.
Tabby didn’t stop her work; she only had two more screws. “What about your mother?”
“She was killed by a drunk driver four years ago.”
That made Tabby pause. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice also a whisper.
“He seems harsh, he just wants what’s best for me. Every boy I’ve ever dated had to go through the ringer with him.”
“I bet,” Tabby smirked.
“He leads hundreds of soldiers, but,” she sniffed. “I’m the one that he worries the most about.”
“That sounds like a great dad,” Tabby said, as she unscrewed the last screw. “Okay Raven, the hinges are off, I am going to try and slide the cabinet door to your left and see if we can free you. Are you ready?”
“Yes.”
Tabby slowly pushed the door out, and felt the weight of Raven’s body push back.
“Relax as much as your can.”
“It’s pushing my neck further into the bumper,” Raven’s voice was strained.
“Okay, we’re almost there.”
“I can’t breath.”
“I just need to…”
The door slid away from Raven’s body and she fell backwards into the cabinet and into the arms of her rescuer. Both women began to cry.
“I’ve got you dear. I’ve got you.”
“Did you get her?” Horn asked, his voice tumbling from somewhere on the other side of the rubble.
“Yes!” Raven answered. “And I’m okay.”
“Alright, let’s get out of here and go help your father.”
Both women crawled out of the wreckage and rubble. Tabby warned the girl about what she was about to see.
“There are bodies all around, and then there is…”
“Oh my God!” Raven said, her hand going to her mouth at the sight of the mushroom cloud. The cloud had significantly dissipated, but it was still evident as to the evil that it represented.
At that moment, Horn appeared from the supply room, followed by Seth. Tabby ran to Seth and Horn pulled his daughter into a bear hug, as if trying to shield her from the new reality unfolding before their eyes.
“If you two are doctors,” Horn said, pausing to survey the level of destruction around them, “then, I can use your help.”
CHAPTER 11
The Tiller Farm
Ian put his hand on the pod. The decision to form a militia was freshly minted between he and Bob.
“Let’s get the adults together after the sweep to discuss how to pull this militia thing off, but for right now, I want to see what’s in this thing.”
Ian opened his knife and slid it down a small channel until he heard a click. Leaving his knife engaged in the slit, he unscrewed the pod as if it were a plastic Easter egg joined along the center axis. With a little effort, the two pieces separated.
“Damn, that’s nice,” Bob said, followed by a whistle. He recognized the equipment immediately.
Ian did as well. He had used satellite communications gear most of his military and subsequent intelligence career. This package came with a solar charger, headset and an encrypted code scrolling across an LCD display above a military grade keypad. All field agents of the CIA memorize a specific decryption code that is unique to them alone. His decryption of the rolling code would verify the legitimacy of who he was when using the radio. The code rotated frequently for security purposed. If the code were ever entered incorrectly, the radio would become an inoperable hunk of metal.
Also in the pod was a shoulder holstered .40 caliber Smith & Wesson pistol and four loaded clips of ammunition. Ian checked the pistol and then put his arms through the mil-spec black strap holster; it felt comforting to finally have his own weapon.
“We can set that up next to my gear,” Bob offered.
“That’ll work,” Ian agreed, and lifted the radio off of the table and towards Bob’s desk of radio gear.
“Base, this is Momma B,” the two-way radio crackled. “Tardis Blue and Tonto all report negative contact. We’re headed back in. Over”
Bob gently stood, his wounds causing him to move slowly. He followed Ian to the radio desk and performed the only job he could do right now. “Roger that, Momma B. Negative contact. Come back to the ranch. Over.”
“Base, this is Double A, are we cleared to come back too? Over,” Adam asked. He and Anna were in the sniper perch at the top of the stable. Ian had assigned them the codename of Double A as long as they were teamed together. He’d let them choose their own individual code names later.
Bob looked at Ian, who, for all intents and purposes, was now the commanding officer of the militia.
Ian caught the look and knew that things had really just changed. He was in charge of them all.
“Have them cover the others until they are back in and then they can bring it in. Sounds like our friend on the ridge had bugged out.”
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“Roger, that,” Bob said, swiveling his chair back around to put the order out. He then slid his rolling chair next to Ian to help him with the setup of the new radio.
Within minutes the two had the radio assembled, the solar panel deployed and the small satellite dish mounted to a gutter on the roof of the front porch. The radio already had a full charge and only needed two things in order to communicate: the acquirement of a communications satellite and for its user to enter the proper code.
Ian put on the headgear and quickly entered his deciphered code into the keypad. The radio showed signal strength on the LCD; it was a strong satellite signal. He pressed the microphone button and spoke.
“This is PACK691, broadcasting in the blind. I repeat, this is PACK691, broadcasting in the blind. Over.”
CHAPTER 12
Carrollton, Georgia
Georgia National Guard Western Medial Processing
Tabby and Seth, along with hundreds of medical patients, had been relocated to the Coliseum on the campus the University of West Georgia. The move had been arduous, with a number of critical patients dying along the 25-mile route from the temporary Villa Rica medical tent.
The basketball arena, turned mass medical ward, was a step up from the heat, humidity and smell of the former medical tent. The military repaired the building’s electrical systems and air conditioning and had set up massive generators outside to provide the power.
Several of the nursing schools students that were still on campus, were pressed into service, learning life and death skills that college degrees could never buy. These students were luckier than most; by not leaving campus during the chaotic first few days of the crisis; they avoided the freakers and senseless violence that follows tragedy.
Outside of the Coliseum, the scene was surreal; thousands of refugees had found sanctuary under the protection of the Guard. Makeshift tent cities had sprung up across the intramural field and formally manicured football field. The campus, now controlled by the military, funneled the refugees into camps that they were happy to occupy.
“Tabby stood outside of the arena, her hand over her eyes, she scanned the crowd for people she might know.”
“I don’t think she will be there,” Seth said, walking up behind her.
“But there are more and more people fleeing Alabama,” she turned to look at her husband. “What if she’s one of them?”
Seth looked over his wife’s shoulder; the thought of catching a glimpse of his daughter was tempting, but not reality.
“We’ve got to go find her,” Tabby said, her voice low and the words spoken with authority. “I’ve got to at least!”
Seth put his arms around his wife and hugged her. “Tonight,” he whispered. “If Raven does what she said she can do, we’ll go tonight.”
“God I hope you’re right,” she said, releasing the hug and turning to look at the mass of lost people. “What about their care?”
Seth knew that she was asking about the medical care of the mass of people. They had been on constant call until they had reached the college campus. Here, at least, they had help from the nursing students and several more doctors from the town.
“It will just have to be,” he answered. “There is more staff here than back at Villa Rica, and we need to find our daughter.”
That is what Tabby wanted to hear. “I agree,” she said. “I’m going to go check on a few patients, see you inside,” she said, walking away slowly. Her eyes still scanning the mass of people as she moved.
Six hours later, as the sun set in the west, Tabby and Seth approached the motor pool of dark green Humvees parked along the side of the arena. They each carried backpacks full of medical supplies, water and food rations. Both doctors were wearing military issue ACU, or Army Combat Uniforms. Both had medical insignia designating them as doctors and both had been given field commissions of Captain by Colonel Horn.
Horn needed them to stay; his doctors in the Guard were either dead or missing, and he didn’t have the time or the training to deal with medical support. So, without a medical command structure in place, he created one with what he had. As luck would have it, what he had was two world-class surgeons; and he needed them to be in charge of his wounded. The officer commissions gave the doctors the power that Horn though they could use to become part of the mission. He never suspected that they would use the rank to leave.
Raven stepped out from behind one of the vehicles. She also had on ACUs and a backpack. She wore no rank, but the last name HORN was fastened to the front of the shirt, and she had the Guard’s patch on her shoulder. Finally, she was armed with an M4 standard issue rifle.
“Are you ready?” she asked.
Both Seth and Tabby were slow to nod, as they took in the newly minted soldier.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Tabby asked.
“Well, the truck is checked out to me, which is a perk with the last name Horn, so I’ll need to be onboard.”
“What about escorts?” Seth asked. He had been out on two scouting mission as the medic and knew that there was always four in a vehicle, with at lease two serving as military protection.
“I guess that’s where Reed comes in,” Raven said, motioning at someone to step from behind the Humvee. “This is Reed.”
Reed was one of the Guardsmen. He was dressed in battle gear, and also armed with an M4, but his had heavy modifications and attachments. He wore the rank of a Specialist, placing him equal to a corporal and just below a sergeant.
“Ma’am, Sir,” Reed said, snapping of a quick salute. Neither Tabby nor Seth returned the salute.
“Reed just returned from a deployment last year, and that is when we met. My dad doesn’t know about us,” she said, hoping she had just successfully justified Reed’s presence.
“The Colonel is your commanding officer, right?” Seth asked the soldier.
“Yes, sir.”
“Are you worried about retribution?”
“Sir, if I had knowledge that the Colonel’s daughter was about to steal a Humvee and drive into known enemy territory, and I didn’t, 1: Stop her, 2: Report her, then I sure as hell better do, 3: Make sure that she is protected,” he said, speaking with military logic.
Seth nodded. “Alright son, that makes sense. Do you have a first name?”
“Yes sir, its Mike, but I respond to Reed, or Specialist a whole lot faster,” he said with a smooth southern drawl.
“Alright, Reed it is.”
The soldier nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“We’re going to take this one, Raven said, opening the back door to the Humvee. She had loaded the vehicle with gear and supplies. “We only have about 10 minutes before they change shifts at the gate, so we need to move. Oh, and one more thing,” she said reaching into a black bag. “You two are going to need these.” She handed the doctors each their own pistol with holster and two extra clips.
Both doctors hesitantly took the weapons. Neither one had ever shot a gun before.
“Raven, we’ve got to go,” Reed said, looking at his watch. “If we want to be the last ones out before they close the gate, we need to book it.”
Three minutes later, Reed pulled the Humvee to the gate. His buddy from his last deployment was the guard. “Wilson, you sure you don’t want to go with us, I know we’ll find some Chinese ass to kick out there,” Reed said quietly to the other soldier.
“No man, not today,” Wilson said. “My dad just checked into the camp this afternoon, and well, mom didn’t, so.”
Reed nodded, and swallowed hard. “That sucks, man.”
Wilson shook his head; it did suck. “Listen, I got your six here, I’ll get my shot later. See you then.” He raised the gate and saluted to the two officers in the vehicle.
Reed nodded appreciation and accelerated the Humvee away from the safety of the Guard strong hold. He navigated onto a back road and headed west towards Alabama.
CHAPTER 13
The Pipeline Terminal
Wu left the cover of the forested hill and the enemy soldiers behind. He crossed the field that he had been shot on days earlier. The pipeline terminal was to his left, and the burned out shell of his platoon truck was still sitting on the side of the road. Once he saw the rebels deploy the mounted soldiers to sweep for him on the hill he had decided to withdraw back to the pipeline terminal.
He approached the charred truck with some sort of hope that there was something that he could use to communicate with his commanders. He had all but given up hope on getting near the stolen helicopter that was parked in front of the rebel’s barracks.
Wu was cautious as he approached from the tree line at the rear of the death scene. He had watched the rebels sweep the area after collecting his murdered comrades and burning their bodies. He knew that they had taken anything of value, including their weapons, but he held out hope that he could find something that could be a lifeline to his commanders.
Wu crouched against a tree, waiting to see if there was any activity around the truck or the pipeline terminal. The smell of the scorched truck and burned bodies was still fresh on the wind, and it made his stomach churn. After ten minutes of no activity, he crossed the distance to peer into the remains of the truck.
All that was left of the military troop transport was the heavy metal chassis and the wheels. The ammunition that the platoon carried onboard had obviously exploded when assaulted by the guns of the helicopter. The result turned the troop transport into a carriage of death.
Satisfied that there was nothing to salvage from the truck, Wu turned towards the pipeline terminal. This had been his core mission, to support the engineers as they disengaged the terminal from the underground flow of oil to the Americans in the east. He had failed.
Wu walked through the gate of the chain-link fence and could clearly see where the rebels had been pinned down by his platoon. Bullet marks were all along the steel pipe, showing their concentrated firepower. He bent down to see how the rebels might have viewed the approach of his platoon. He could see their bullet casings on the ground mixed with the casings from his homelands rifles.
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