In the New York news studio, the anchorman sat mute for a second, then drew a shuddering breath.
“News of the Maceió infections have sparked wild panic across South America. Unconfirmed rumors claim that millions of people from Venezuela and Colombia are abandoning their major cities and streaming north into Panama and Costa Rica. US Government officials, who declined to be named on camera, have admitted to CMN that the Austin administration has grave fears these new caravans of civilians might add further pressure along the US – Mexico border in the dangerous hours and days ahead of us all. There are reports from within the Pentagon suggesting that several air force bases close to the southern border have been placed on high alert including Holloman Air Force Base in New Mexico, Luke Air Force Base in Arizona and Davis-Monthan Air Force Base.
“As the infection threatens to sweep through Latin America, serious concerns are now held for the lives of the innocent people already on their way to the southern border who might become trapped between the high fencing and the spread of the contagion as it sweeps north – creating a nightmare of desperate panic as the infection draws nearer.
“So far there has been no comment directly from the White House about the Maceió outbreaks. The reported cases represent the first incidents of NK Plague infection anywhere in the Americas. We’ll have more on this breaking news story throughout the night as further developments occur…”
EAST OF NOGALES
ARIZONA
The convoy of trucks pulled up in a cloud of brown dust. They had bypassed Nogales, instead choosing to follow rutted trails into the harsh terrain until – on an impulse – Karl King braked suddenly.
The sun sat low on the horizon, the dusk sky turned into a riot of flaming orange and hues of crimson.
“We’ll make camp here,” King said. “And we’ll scout the ground after dark. If there are cartels in the area, they’ll be working their drug mules over the border at night.”
They circled the vehicles like they were wagons from the wild west and chopped wood for a fire. The terrain was stringy parched bush and endless ravines of desert sand. Haystack came back to the camp with an axe on his broad shoulder and a black plastic water bottle in his hand. He held it up like a trophy.
“Found it,” he showed the others. “Round about a mile to the north east. It’s empty.”
King took the bottle. “That’s the kind of thing the cartels bury in the sand. It’s a water container for the drug carriers. They use black bottles to keep the water cool because it reflects the light.”
To everyone in the USBV it was hard evidence. After all the disappointment and the endless hours of driving, it buoyed their spirits. They checked their weapons by the fading light and drank beer to wash away the dust.
“Okay. Here’s how it’s going to happen,” King lobbed an empty beer can into the back of his truck and belched. Dark comes quickly in the arid desert. He stood near the fire, the harsh lines of his haggard face lit from the flames below so that he looked vaguely demonic.
“Hardy will lead one patrol west, towards Nogales. Haystack will lead another patrol east. Both teams will be connected to base by walkie-talkie. I’ll remain at camp, monitoring both searches and coordinating the effort. I’ll need one other person willing to miss out on the hunt.”
No one volunteered. They all wanted to be part of the adventure.
“What about you?” King turned neatly to Haystack’s girlfriend. It seemed the logical choice. The young woman nodded.
“Sure,” she said. Like the rest of them, she was filthy with dust. Sweat plastered her hair to her neck and forehead. Her clothes clung damp to her like a second skin and her scalp itched, full of grit and sand.
King kept his face a mask. “Okay. I want a four-hour patrol. Make sure you take plenty of water and check your flashlights before you break camp.”
*
For the first thirty minutes, King monitored the progress of each patrol, plotting their approximate positions on a map he had spread across the hood of the Chevy. The glow from the campfire lit a small halo of sand with flickering light, but beyond the circle of trucks, the sky was black as ink. Stars pricked the sky.
King laid down the walkie-talkie and yawned. He felt physically exhausted; the return drive from San Diego had frayed his nerves and made him irritable. He fished a warm beer from inside the truck and drank thirstily.
A sudden noise in the night made him jerk his head.
It was the faintest of sounds; a dry rustling of movement. King held his breath and narrowed his eyes. His senses came to full alert. He reached for his rifle and crept away from the camp, circling in the darkness, taking slow measured steps until his eyes adjusted. The ground ahead of him was uneven soft sand. The silhouettes of the circled trucks kept him orientated.
Ahead of him he sensed movement. He felt his heart begin to beat in his chest. Karl King was no soldier, and certainly not the hardened world-wise veteran he pretended to be. He felt the first faint tremor of fear. It twisted in his guts and tasted rancid in his mouth.
He took two more measured steps and slowly raised the rifle.
The woman had stripped down to her underwear. She stood, unsuspecting, washing herself with a damp cloth. She had a two-gallon bottle of water at her feet. She bent at the waist to wet the cloth and then drew it down her body, and shuddered with a voluptuous sigh of simple pleasure.
Karl King studied her with frank and unabashed desire. She looked like a wraith in the starlight.
The woman stopped washing herself suddenly and turned her head. She smiled with sensual allure. “I’ve been waiting for you, major,” she said in a throaty voice. “You can start by washing my back…”
*
“You hear that?” Haystack whispered and froze in mid-stride.
The dark shape of the man standing at his shoulder nodded. He pointed a little to their left. “It came from over there.”
“Tell the others,” Haystack spoke softly. “Then we’ll go forward.”
The six-man patrol went at a stealthy creep, carefully lifting and placing their feet in the soft warm sand that still radiated heat from the long day. They went up the face of a low dune covered with thorny straggles of bush. Haystack could hear the blood pumping in his ears and feel his body shot through with surging adrenalin.
Another sharp ‘click’ of sound somewhere in the near distance drew Haystack’s nerves tight. He raised his rifle and swung it in the direction of the noise.
“Beaners!” the big man hissed under his breath. A tingle of tension and alarm ran through the entire group. None of them were ex-military. They were mechanics and laborers and plumbers who had joined the USBV to put a thrill into their mundane lives, and to fulfill a sense of patriotic duty. In the light of day they were all hard gun-lovin’ men – but in the chill of a desert night against an unknown and unseen enemy, the veneer of bravado and macho swagger began to crumble away.
Haystack’s mouth turned dry. His licked his lips anxiously. A nervous twitch tugged the corner of his mouth.
“Must be drug runners,” he breathed the warning amongst his patrol. “We gotta take ‘em out.”
He dropped down into the dirt, choked down a deep breath and drew a bead on the sound, concentrating fiercely, all his tenses drawn wire-tight.
He guessed the Mexican drug runners were about twenty yards directly ahead of where he lay. He clenched his jaw – and fired.
The night lit up in flashing tongues of flame and weird flickering light. Ghostly dark shapes moved left and right. Haystack shouted something incoherent. The USBV men around him opened fire. The sudden roar of chattering sound in the stillness of the night was deafening.
Haystack emptied his magazine. In the sudden jarring silence he heard someone groan in pain. Haystack gave a fierce howl of triumph.
“Give ‘em hell, boys!”
The firefight lasted a furious thirty seconds. In the aftermath two US Border Patrol Agents and a National Guard soldier
lay dead in the Arizona dirt. Two more National Guardsmen clutched at bleeding wounds.
The surviving officers of the government patrol ambushed by the USBV arrested Haystack and the other five men. They were all charged with multiple counts of murder. Haystack sobbed uncontrollably.
Within hours all members of the US Border Vigilantes group had been rounded up and arrested, including Karl King and his new female lover.
‘BOUNTIFUL TIGRESS’ CRUISE SHIP
OFF THE COAST OF NEW ZEALAND
The conference room aboard the ocean liner was darkened – but not so dark that the three men at the long table could not see each other’s expressions as the Admiral stepped in front of the projector, casting his silhouette with eerie distorted shadows.
The men sat forward in their seats, attentive and focused. President Xiang lit a cigarette and growled, “You may begin.”
The images loaded into the projector were several months old; in recent days key technology had begun to fail. The Chinese could no longer access all their satellite data. Some of the images had even come from a German-based commercial company, purchased three years earlier through a network of shelf companies to conceal the identity of the Chinese Government.
The Fleet’s Admiral doubted New Zealand’s infrastructure had altered much since the data had been gathered – certainly not in any significant way that would alter his carefully prepared invasion plans. He cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. President Xiang, Yi Dan, and Tong Ge shifted in their chairs.
“The invasion of New Zealand will be conducted in three distinct stages,” the Admiral began as the first image was projected onto the screen behind him, “beginning with an air attack on key strategic and military locations across both the North and South Islands. We anticipate no resistance from the air. The enemy have some old fighters in storage here,” the Admiral tapped the projected image with a pointer, “at Base Woodbourne near the top of the South Island. This installation is used to train air force recruits and has a serviceable runway. Our objective will be to destroy the surrounding infrastructure with cruise missiles but to leave the airstrip intact. There are other small air force bases at Ohakea and Whenuapai, northwest of Auckland.” He moved on quickly. “We will use the same techniques on all commercial airports across the country. Our missiles are very accurate. We anticipate every airport will remain serviceable with only minor collateral damage.”
“This is critical,” Yi Dan squinted through a veil of thick cigarette smoke that swirled past his face. “We cannot risk serious infrastructure damage during the operation, Admiral. Devastating these islands in mad barrages will only bring about our own downfall.”
“Of course, Minister,” the Admiral nodded patiently. He had been warned of this very fact a dozen times during the planning stages.
“The only facility likely to be rendered inoperable during the first stage of the operation is the enemy naval base,” he spun back to the image and tapped. “It is located here. It is called Devonport Naval Base. It is on Auckland’s north shore. Fighters launched off the Liaoning armed with ship-killer missiles will target the entire site. In total, New Zealand has four notable harbors. They are located around the coast at Auckland, Taurunga, Wellington and Christchurch. Our aircraft or cruise missiles will target none of the commercial facilities in these harbors. Our Marines aboard helicopters will seize each port. That will be part of the second phase of the operation.”
At the long table, the three men exchanged quick glances. While the Admiral prepared the next image to be projected, Tong Ge poured himself a cup of black tea. He sipped contemplatively but said nothing. Yi Dan stubbed out his cigarette butt into a brimming ashtray and immediately lit another. The Admiral went on.
“To complete the first phase of the invasion we must not only neutralize the enemy warships at Devonport Naval Base – we must also destroy the enemy’s army and its branches of government.
“The enemy has an army base located at Upper Hutt, just north of Wellington, and another at Palmerston North. Both of these bases will be targeted with cruise missiles. In the heart of the North Island, a third key military base must also be destroyed in the first wave of missile strikes. It was once a sheep farming station. It is now the facility where all New Zealand soldiers complete their basic training. It is called Waiouru Military Camp,” the Chinese Admiral struggled with pronunciation of the unfamiliar name.
“What about the enemy’s Special Forces?” Yi Dan frowned. The New Zealand Special Air Service had a formidable reputation around the world. On their own, the SAS would be no threat to the invasion or occupation of the mainland, but they would represent a nightmare to long term security if they were not eliminated quickly. The SAS were experts at guerilla warfare. They could terrorize military convoys and sabotage key installations.
“The enemy’s Special Forces are barracked at a base to the south of Wellington, Minister,” the Admiral nodded politely to acknowledge the question. “The base will be struck with cruise missiles during the first phase of the operation and troops in helicopters will secure the installation when the second phase of the invasion commences.”
Yi Dan said nothing. He leaned back in his chair, casting his face deeper into shadow. The Admiral ordered another satellite image to be projected onto the large screen. It was a close up of several city blocks.
“The center of New Zealand’s government is in Wellington. The key buildings are on this block,” the Admiral turned back to the screen and described a crude rectangle with his pointer that included several buildings and a fringe of manicured lawns. There is also an estate a few kilometers further south called Government House. Bombing missions from our multi-role fighters will target all these seats of power along with a nearby university campus.”
“Why aren’t the same fighters that attack the Naval Base also being used to bomb the houses of Parliament?” President Xiang asked.
The Admiral winced. “Mr. President, the flying time between the Naval Base and the capital is approximately twenty minutes. Our fighters will not have the fuel to perform dual role operations until we are much closer to the mainland. Our plan calls for twelve fighters to target the enemy’s navy with ship killer missiles, and the rest of the air wing to fly bombing missions over the capital.”
Xiang nodded sage understanding and approval. “Yes. Of course.”
In truth, the President had no practical knowledge of China’s military, its capabilities, or its limitations. He gave an airy wave of his hand, encouraging the Admiral to continue, then poured himself tea.
“These actions will conclude the first phase of the invasion. The second wave will see our troops on the ground, landed across both islands by helicopters. The targets identified in our initial attack will all be seized – especially the harbors and the airstrips. It is critical that we secure the main population areas swiftly. New Zealand has poor infrastructure compared to what we are accustomed to in China. Their road network is arterial and restricted; across most of the country it is only necessary to blockade a few main state highways to severely curtail civilian escape routes into the neighboring countryside. The capital of Wellington is surrounded by hills with just a few arterial roads in and out of the central business district. By severing these motorways we can trap most of the city-living population like rats in a cage.”
The analogy pleased Minister Yi Dan. The old man wheezed and laughed. Encouraged, the Admiral’s voice became more assured.
“Despite all our efforts, some of the civilian population will escape into the hills,” he conceded. “Most of the country’s population lives in the main cities. The rural population in small towns and villages will be harder to contain. We must accept that some of them will flee into the Rimutaka Ranges, or the Tararua Ranges that run like a spine along the center of the North Island where our intelligence suggests there are hunting cabins.”
“They will all have to be hunted down,” President Xiang said gruffly. “There can be no resistan
ce, nor any chance for the civilian population to form renegade groups. They must he hunted relentlessly.”
“Yes, Mr. President. Indeed, capturing stray elements of resistance will constitute the third phase of the invasion. The only matter not yet discussed or considered in our planning is the detention of the civilian population once hostilities begin. In the absence of your instructions, our intelligence people have identified several sporting stadiums…”
“There will be no prisoners, Admiral,” Xiang interrupted with a curt chopping hand gesture. “The civilian population of New Zealand must be slaughtered – every man, woman and child. We will struggle to feed our own people for many months – perhaps it will even be a year before we can produce crops and cultivate their farmland. We cannot spare food or resources on prisoners.”
“I understand,” the Admiral’s eyes turned hard. He bowed. “I will pass your instructions on to the officers leading the invasion forces, Mr. President.”
*
The Chinese aircraft carrier, Liaoning, supported an air-wing consisting of twenty-four Shenyang J-15 ‘Flying Shark’ multirole fighters. Twelve of the jets were launched from the carrier’s deck in the first assault on New Zealand.
The J-15’s were advanced jets. They were modified variants of the Russian Su-33 – but were hampered in range and payload capabilities by the carrier’s lack of an aircraft catapult. The Liaoning’s launch system depended on a ski jump at the end of the flight deck that forced the fighters to waste huge amounts of fuel during takeoff, and limited their payload. As a consequence, each fighter could only be fitted with four YJ-83K antiship missiles. Any more weight and the planes couldn’t get off the deck.
Nor was there sufficient fuel to spare for all the fighters to form up and launch their attacks in concert. Instead, they flew southeast towards the mainland in three-ship formations.
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