by Mike Kraus
“What’s the status on the injured? Do we have enough people to head out to the docks?” Linda looked around at the soldiers and airmen in the parking lot, many of whom were injured or assisting those who were.
“We’re getting reinforcements in a couple hours. They won’t be much but they’ll have enough vehicles with them to get the injured out to some real hospitals. Once that happens I’ll take anyone still able to walk and carry a rifle, load them up and we’ll head to the docks.”
“A couple hours?” Linda looked at her watch.
“It’s the best I can do, Rollins. As important as this is, my people come first. You know that.”
Linda took a deep breath and nodded. “Absolutely. How can we help?”
***
With nothing to do until the reinforcements showed up, Frank and Linda busied themselves with assisting the injured soldiers and airmen who still required attention. Most everyone had suffered some small injury, whether it was a cut or abrasions due to the RPG fire, but many had sustained far worse injuries. The total number of dead was sixteen with another eight critically wounded. Of the original group that had left the airfield there were only thirty-five men and women who were still in good physical fighting condition.
The strain of being out in a hostile environment—especially when it was on American soil—wore on the morale of the survivors, as did seeing what their enemies had managed to do between the two attacks. Jackson, Frank and Linda were the only ones who knew the full extent of the details about the man responsible for the attacks and none of them wanted that situation to change.
With Williams dead, Frank took over the drone and sent it back into the sky. He swept the area with thermal cameras, helping to cover gaps in the defenses and provide an early warning for any more potential aggressors. Splitting his attention between the drone’s location and the live video feed took some getting used to but keeping the craft flying high above power lines and buildings made controlling the craft somewhat easier.
Linda, meanwhile, stuck close to a medic by the name of Gutierrez. The two women wore white plastic gloves and moved between patients as they evaluated injuries, dispersed medication and tried their level best to keep the most seriously injured from bleeding out until backup arrived. Working on the other side of the hospital bed was a change of pace for Linda after her experience being shot and she was grateful for the fact that she wasn’t lying on her back wondering when she’d feel well again.
It was just over three hours later when the sound of distant diesel engines sent up a shout of joy from the survivors in the parking lot. The reinforcements had broken off from a larger force moving into San Diego in an attempt to establish control of port facilities in that location after the Long Beach port and airfield were both compromised. Over a hundred soldiers and Marines descended on the parking lot, encircling it and quickly transporting the injured to a pair of advanced trauma vehicles. Miniature hospitals on wheels, the trauma vehicles were equipped with state of the art equipment and supplies that would allow the injured to be treated for their wounds on the spot, since the chances of any of them making it to a hospital were slim to none.
As everyone worked, Linda and Frank stood together off to the side until they spotted Lieutenant Jackson in the middle of a heated discussion with another officer from the reinforcement convoy. They wandered toward the pair until they were close enough to hear what was going on.
“Jackson, this is insane. You’re low on supplies, your people have been through hell and we’re here to reinforce you! Let us take point on this!”
“I appreciate the offer. Truly, I do. But this is our fight right now.”
There was a long, uncomfortable silence before the other officer sighed in resignation. “You won’t change your mind on this, huh?”
Jackson gave a slight smile as he shook his head. “Nope. Sorry.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Look, have your guys take what they need from us. Make sure you have enough ammo, food and water to last you however long this secret mission will take. We’ll get your people taken care of and back to safety.”
“Thank you.” Jackson nodded at his counterpart and the pair shook hands before parting ways. Jackson looked around with a grim look on his face as he walked through the parking lot until he spotted Frank and Linda, both of whom were doing a terrible job of looking nonchalant. Jackson rolled his eyes at them as he approached. “How much did you hear?”
“Enough.” Linda reached out and put a sympathetic hand on Jackson’s arm. “We appreciate you staying with us. I know what it’s like to lose people.”
Jackson sighed and shook his head, dismissing the thoughts before they could overcome him. “There’ll be a time for remembering, later, once this is settled. We have a job to finish first, though. You two ready to get moving?”
***
Twenty minutes later, as the reinforcements were still working to treat the wounded and collect the remains of the fallen soldiers and airmen, five vehicles rolled out of the parking lot and headed back toward the west. Four Humvees and one APC—the only one that had survived the attacks undamaged—traveled backwards along the path they had taken not too long ago, winding their way toward the Long Beach dockyard and whatever awaited them there.
Linda, Frank and Jackson rode in the second Humvee and another twenty troops were spread out across the rest of the vehicles, each of them armed to the teeth and looking to exact vengeance for their fallen brothers and sisters. Jackson sat behind the wheel as he, Frank and Linda conversed, trying to decide what their moves would be once they entered the docks. A short time ago Jackson had been the outsider but as far as Linda and Frank were concerned he was one of them.
“She wants what, the general description of the crates, right?” Jackson spoke loudly over the roar of the engines.
“Any and every detail we can get. Weight, dimensions, color, patterns; anything that can be broadcast out and be used as a way to start searching for them.”
“I hope to heaven that kind of info is even available at the dockyard.” Jackson shook his head. “Though that might not matter much if the people who overran the port destroyed everything.”
“How far out are we?” Frank checked his watch and looked up at the sky. The new day had brought with it a dazzling array of purples, pinks and blues as the sun lazily rose into the sky. A feeling of general exhaustion washed over Frank as he focused on the outside world, but he fought against it with thoughts of the fights that were sure to come and with the help of another mouthful of stale, lukewarm coffee. His short stint as a trucker hadn’t adequately prepared him for going so long and hard without sleep, but he wasn’t about to be the one holding everyone else back.
“Five minutes,” Jackson replied. He picked up a radio and held the microphone to his mouth, scanning the buildings around them as they drove along. “Look alive, people. We’re five minutes out. Gunners keep eyes on the windows and rooftops. When we get to the port keep your safeties off and be ready for a fight. These might just be civvies who overran it but it might be more of the bastards from before.”
A chorus of acknowledgements came back through the radio and Jackson nodded in satisfaction. “All right, you two. Listen up. Keep your helmets on and your eyes on a swivel. Once we’ve secured the perimeter of the dockyard we’ll move inside. I’ll make sure any records or computer rooms are cleared first, then I’ll have a couple of guards with you while you do your searches.”
Linda nodded. “We’ll be fine, Jackson. Just get us inside.”
The relatively calm atmosphere that had pervaded the ride west toward the dockyard was quickly being replaced with tension. Frank could feel his heartrate start to rise as he recognized the streets they were driving on from when he and Linda had been in the area earlier. In the front passenger seat Linda re-checked her pistol and rapped her fingers against the side of her rifle, her right leg drumming up and down in an expression of nervous energy.
When the port drew into view,
Frank’s first sight of the dockyard made him gasp. Smoke billowed from buildings and vehicles alike, one of the ships waiting out in the water beyond the port was clearly on fire and there were large pieces missing from the wall and fence that surrounded the area. Frank stared slack-jawed while Jackson shouted into the radio at the soldiers in the other vehicles.
The four Humvees pulled off to the side of the road as the APC raced past, accelerating as it smashed over and through any vehicles and other obstacles in its path. The driver of the APC expertly guided it through a portion of the brick wall surrounding the dockyard with expert precision, taking advantage of a weak spot and hitting it at an angle to ensure the Humvees would be able to follow behind. It drove through the dockyard at full speed in a wide circle, the single machine gun turret on top swiveling around as the gunner prepared for an assault from any direction.
There was no assault, though. In fact, there was little of any sort of response to the APC’s entry whatsoever. Jackson watched from outside the compound as the APC swept through, listening to the stream of reports coming in from a soldier inside the APC.
“No contact, sir. We’ve got a few people fleeing on the western side through holes in the fence but they’re unarmed and appear to be civilians. Should we engage or pursue?”
“Negative.” Jackson replied back immediately. “Do not engage unless they appear to be hostile.”
“Copy that.” The APC rumbled across an open stretch of the dockyard and another transmission came through. “We’ve got no one at the far end, sir. Doing another pass by the near buildings. If those are clear you should be good to go.”
Jackson watched the APC turn again, half the wheels screaming in protest while the other half lifted a few inches off the ground. The armored vehicle zoomed past the wall and around the main dockyard building. Frank and Linda watched the scene from inside the Humvee, and Frank whispered to Linda without taking his eyes off of the APC. “I wonder if that guy’s still there.”
“The radiation monitor tech?”
“Yeah.”
“Doubt it. He probably ran for it when those people overran the compound.”
“Where did all the people go, anyway?” Frank scratched his chin.
“I don’t know,” she said, shaking her head slowly. “But I don’t like it.”
Jackson jumped back in the Humvee and glanced at Frank and Linda. “Get ready. We’re heading in.”
The other three Humvees went in first, splitting up as the drivers took soldiers to three separate entrances into the main dockyard building. Jackson drove the vehicle with himself, Frank and Linda in last, watching and waiting as the groups of soldiers moved out of the Humvees and the APC and worked to secure the building. He wanted nothing more than to be in there with his men but protecting Frank and Linda was the most important task he had on his plate.
“When do we go in?” Linda asked as he eased the Humvee to a stop near the building.
“Soon. Once they’ve swept the entire building and given the all-clear.”
Linda slowly turned her head to look at him, raised an eyebrow, rolled her eyes and reached for the door handle. “Yeah, sure. You have fun with that.”
Linda pulled on the door handle and jumped out, rifle in hand, and began jogging toward the nearest entrance. Frank and Jackson watched her for a few seconds before Frank fumbled with his door, opened it and jumped out after her. Before running off he paused and looked at Jackson. “Aren’t you coming with us?”
Jackson looked at the pair heading toward the building and groaned as he unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the vehicle. “Son of a….”
Chapter 3
Even without the benefit of heavy equipment or tools, the civilians who overran the port did a marvelous job at tearing the place apart from top to bottom. Holes in the walls and fences surrounding the dockyard were only the tip of the iceberg and the damage was far more extensive than anyone from the convoy thought when they first encircled the main building.
Locks on shipping containers had been broken and the contents of the containers were spilled out onto the ground as looters searched feverishly for food, medical supplies and other necessities. While some of the containers did contain useful supplies, the vast majority of them were empty at the time the looters stormed the dockyard due to the fact that the military was being exceptionally aggressive with transporting the supplies out to the airfield as soon as they arrived at the port.
The main building and warehouses in the dockyard had nearly all of their windows broken out and the doors were broken and hanging from their hinges. The guards and staff on duty had done their level best to barricade themselves inside the buildings when the looters arrived, but they were far too outnumbered to put up any sort of a real fight. Some of the guards shot and killed a few looters but the sheer number of people storming through the dockyard meant that anyone who acted in an aggressive manner quickly faced brutal mob justice.
A few of the braver looters took small boats out to the waiting cargo ships. Some were dispatched by a group of soldiers whose job was to check the cargo ships before they were allowed to dock. Others boarded a ship whose crew barricaded themselves in the cabin, at which point the looters began tearing the ship and the containers on board apart in a frenzy to find much-needed supplies. The small craft the looters used to make it to the vessel was quickly torn apart by gunfire from the soldiers. Then, not wanting to risk the looters traveling to any more cargo vessels and finding it too risky to try and board the ship, the soldiers ended up using shaped explosives to punch a hole in the ship’s hull so that it began to slowly sink. They then evacuated from the area in their small vessel, leaving the looters and crew on board the sinking ship no choice but to try and escape by swimming back to shore.
After the actions by the offshore military team and the discovery that there were little to no supplies in the dockyard, the looters began to disband after only a few short hours spent at the port. A few stayed behind to pick through the buildings and look for anything of use but the arrival of the convoy prompted them to flee without looking back.
While the main complex of the dockyard looked bad enough due to the actions of the looters, the interior of the buildings were a whole other matter entirely. Linda entered the main structure first, remembering how it had looked not that long ago and scarcely believing that she was in the same building. Frank and Jackson followed her in, with Jackson hurrying over to a nearby cluster of soldiers who were talking with some people that looked like they had gone through hell itself.
“What’s going on here?” Jackson straightened his back as he approached the group.
“Sir, these civilians were working here when the looters attacked. They’ve got more in the back room and some are seriously injured.”
“That’s right,” one of the staff members replied, stepping forward with a cough to clear his throat. “We were working here when those… people attacked us. If you can even call them that. They forced us into the conference room, killed several guards and started tearing everything apart.”
“Is Nathan Davis here?” Linda spoke from behind Jackson, watching the faces of the staff members carefully.
“Nate?” The staff member scratched his head and shook it slowly. “I don’t think I’ve seen him since the attack. He wasn’t in the conference room with us, was he?” The other staff members shook their heads. Linda was about to reply when Jackson cut her off with a wave of his hand.
“Show my men to your wounded. Lindon, make sure they get treated and debriefed. I want to know everything they know.” The soldier Jackson was speaking to nodded and turned back to carry out his orders. Linda stood silently next to Jackson for a few seconds as the soldiers and staff members walked out, heading for the conference room.
“All right, Rollins, who’s this Nathan fellow?” Jackson turned to look at her.
“He was the tech who was working the radiation monitors when the crates came through. I figured he would be a good sou
rce of info, but if he’s not here then we’ll need to start searching through their database and any paper records.”
Jackson waved at a nearby soldier. “Figure out where the server room is and get us there.”
“Yes sir, we found it a few minutes ago. Down this way.”
Jackson, Linda and Frank followed the soldier down a hall as Jackson continued talking. “Why didn’t you two get all this info when you were here before?”
“Hindsight’s 20/20, Jackson,” Linda replied. “We didn’t have all the facts at that point. I’m not convinced we have all of them even now.”
“Are we sure their records will have descriptive information on the crates?” Frank asked from behind Jackson and Linda.
“They’d better,” Linda shook her head, “Or we’re going to be in trouble.”
After another moment of walking the soldier leading the trio stopped in front of a door and motioned at it while holding out a flashlight. “In here, sir. You’ll want this.”
“A flashlight?” Jackson looked at it and switched it on. “Why would we need a flashlight? The place has pow—oh.” Jackson walked into the room and sighed as he panned around with the light. “That’ll be all for now. If anyone needs me I’ll be in here with these two.”
“Yes, sir!” The soldier saluted and ran off to attend to his other duties. Jackson slowly spun in a circle as he looked over the contents of the room while Linda and Frank walked in. “Well, Rollins? Thoughts?”
The server room looked like a bomb had gone off in one corner. Dark black scorch marks ran up the side of one wall while a pair of discarded fire extinguishers lying on their sides in the middle of the floor told the story of what had occurred. Linda pulled a flashlight from her pocket and pointed it at the tall metal rackmount cabinet that housed what used to be several fully-functional computers. It was one of four such cabinets in the room, but something had happened to cause it to catch on fire. The flames would have spread across the building if not for a staff member’s diligence in the aftermath of the looters leaving the dockyard.
