Once inside the Castle, Richard high-tailed it to the command center to find Howard.
“What the hell happened? The Chinese, Howard? What the hell are they doing?”
Howard was fond of directness, preferring to dispense with the customary pleasantries. “It would seem that Jackson Butler tried to broker some idiotic deal with the Chinese. I’m guessing he invited them to come over and protect us from Iran as our allies.”
“Sinking three cruise ships before they hit our shores doesn’t exactly qualify them as our allies.”
“They probably mistook us for the UAE and thought Jackson double crossed them.”
“Makes sense. How bad is it?”
“Very bad. They’ve crippled every military asset this side of the Rockies. They’ve got boots on the ground in L.A., San Diego, and San Francisco, with thousands more coming in by the hour.”
“Seattle?”
“Hal gave them a bit of a surprise when they tried to cross our borders. The EMP shield went online without a hitch.”
“Didn’t even get a chance to test it, did you?”
“Nope. The sonic repulsors are swatting down anything they throw at us, but we can’t stop them from swimming to shore or walking across our border with California.”
“For the time being, they won’t. Without bombing runs and artillery fire, they don’t have the advantage. There’s just too much resistance.”
***
Clarence Whipp was raised by a man known to many as a “gun nut.” His father worshipped the second amendment as scripture and was a founding member of the Central California Patriots Militia. Clarence spent his childhood learning everything there was to know about firearms, and he quickly became a prize-winning sharpshooter. The CCPM had swelled to over five hundred members prior to the Collapse of 2027, and it continued to grow under the leadership of the senior Whipp and his son.
When the Unified American Empire came to power and pissed all over the Bill of Rights, the CCPM headed underground. Members of the militia had to bury their weapons and ammo in caches spread out across central California. Almost a third of their numbers were executed by the UAE for either protesting or carrying firearms despite the ban.
Like many Americans, Clarence had no idea that the UAE had been decapitated in Florida or that President Sterling had been taken prisoner. That fact didn’t matter when Chinese paratroopers dropped out of the sky like confetti on New Year’s Day. Clarence and his men had been preparing for the day when the UAE was vulnerable and weak enough to suffer an all-out guerrilla war. The UAE was no longer the issue at hand; a much more powerful and lethal army was spilling onto the shores of the former United States, hell-bent on conquering their homeland. Clarence and his men would fight to the death to stop them.
All across the nation, true patriots had perished under the wicked thumb of the UAE. They died for their steadfast belief in the right to bear arms in order to protect all they held most dear. Those brothers and sisters fortunate enough to outlive them would pry the rifles from their cold, dead hands and carry on the fight. The living vowed tostand up to the domination of those who tried to rob them of the very tools needed to prevent such tyranny in the first place.
The Unified American Empire was a short-lived experiment. Simon Sterling was a failure. He appointed himself ruler of a government he was certain would be both efficient and minimal. He aimed to consolidate his power by robbing the people of their basic freedoms, oblivious to the fact that an unarmed populace would be no match for a fierce invading force.
***
Mutee Azimi had a new mission. His old one was going to be the biggest environmental disaster in recent history. Mutee had acquired a large quantity of sodium cyanide, enough to poison the water supply of Sacramento and the surrounding cities. During his training as a Silent Warrior, Mutee was indoctrinated to do two things: destroy the American culture and prepare for the invasion of America by The Great Empire of Iran. The former was going spectacularly; the latter was being infringed upon by the opportunistic Chinese. The Chinese problem was one that would definitely have to be addressed; the real estate was far too valuable to hand over to them without a fight. Allah had expanded the Muslim world further than he had in all of history. The former United States would be used to further his glory.
Mutee decided not to waste his lethal chemical. He and his men divided up the deadly substance and headed out across California to find the Chinese encampments. Mutee was shocked at the lack of security the invading forces placed on their own water supply. Weapon and ammo depots were heavily guarded, for obvious reasons, but five- and ten-thousand-gallon tanks of water sat virtually unattended. Under the cloak of darkness and camouflaged in stolen Chinese uniforms, Mutee and his cell systematically poisoned the water supply. To guarantee their own escape, they dosed the water with small enough quantities of the chemical to ensure that it would take forty-eight to seventy-two hours for the infected to succumb. The Silent Warriors were richly rewarded for their efforts as the Chinese began to die by the thousands.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“Shit! Get inside the compound! They’re comin’ around the corner!
Benjamin Black had hoped that, at the very least, his new guests would be gracious enough to remain outside the compound and offer up some sort of demands he’d have to meet to avoid a gun fight. If that had happened, he would’ve at least had time to stage his people and get them ready for the inevitable battle. But his new guests were not the talking type; they opened fire as soon as they rounded the corner. Two of Ben’s people were ripped in half by .50-caliber rounds. The large billboard that had once welcomed tourists to Mickey Mouse’s home was torn to shreds. Benjamin himself barely made it into the compound in one piece.
“Light ‘em up!” Benjamin yelled to the sentry towers, and his command was immediately followed. The convoy stopped on the far end of the parking lot and positioned themselves for the upcoming melee. Three smoke grenades arced high before landing between the opposing sides. With their new cover in place, the convoy split in half and set up a cross fire closer to the front gate. Ben had trained his people well for the inevitable day when the UAE would try to take their compound; they were ready. Four snipers set up position along the top of the compound wall and began to pick off the soldiers…one by one.
“Shit! They brought reinforcements!” Ben alerted his people as three SUVs came screaming around the corner. The chain of events that followed was a blessing in disguise. The SUVs darkened windows lowered as a volley of gunfire erupted from within. The first two vehicles engaged the nearest half of the convoy while the occupants of the third vehicle focused on the rest. With the combined forces of the new arrivals, Ben’s people were able to finish off the convoy with ease.
“Who in the holy hell is that? Could this get any stranger?” Jessica would have laughed if not for the loss of life she’d just witnessed.
“I have no idea, but they saved our asses.” Ben was eager to put together the pieces of this bizarre puzzle. “Let’s greet our new friends, shall we?”
“Pine, Smith, Garcia, Stewart, you’re with me. Everyone else stay put. Douglas, relay to the sniper towers to keep their eyes peeled for trouble.”
With their trigger fingers at the ready, Ben and Jessica lead the welcoming committee forward. Their newly disarmed guests waited nervously, the aura of uncertainty like a force-field around them. There was something familiar about the suited gentlemen in front, but Ben couldn’t quite place him. “Who is that?” Ben whispered to Jessica.
“I’m pretty sure that’s Jackson Butler.”
“I think you’re right.” Ben addressed the team. “Everyone stay alert; this looks like trouble. Don’t fire until I give the signal, unless you’re fired upon first. Jessica, if I make eye contact, do what you can to separate Butler from the group.”
“Got it, boss.”
“Here we go.” Ben addressed his new guests. “Gentlemen, thank you for your assistance. It’s greatly app
reciated. My name is Benjamin Black. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
The man in the suit took his cue. “Mr. Black, it is truly a pleasure. I’ve heard good things about you.”
“Much obliged. And who might you be?”
“I’m Regional Governor Jackson Butler. I understand you rescued President Sterling once he fled from the attack in Miami.”
Ben remained silent.
“Well, my men and I are very grateful for your patriotism. It is my understanding that the men we just engaged were a rogue element working with the attackers in Miami.”
Still no response.
“Well, I’ll get right to the point. We’re here to escort President Sterling to safety. If you could take us to him, we’ll be on our way.”
Ben finally broke his silence. “Just you guys? Wouldn’t it be more prudent to wait for reinforcements? What if there are more rogue elements out there wanting to snatch him?”
“I’m confident we can escort him to safety. If we move now, we can whisk the president away and get as far from here as possible.”
“Excellent point. If you would be so kind as to follow Jessica.” Ben turned and stared at Jessica, the signal acknowledged as she beamed a flirty smile at Jackson over her shoulder. As soon as she had Jackson separated from the group, Jessica grabbed his hand, flipped him skillfully to the ground, and climbed atop the dazed governor. Before the two even hit the ground, Ben and the four gunmen opened fire on the disarmed men. Five seconds and done.
Ben strolled over to the struggling Jackson Butler and planted a swift kick to his face. “Settle down, you piece of shit. I’ll be happy to take you to President Sterling. Both of you are now prisoners of the Pacific States of America.”
Jackson let loose a string of profanity to bolster his false anger and surprise. He was delighted that these rednecks had carried out the plan so perfectly. Soon he would be right where he wanted to be—inside Beck Castle.
“Let’s get these vehicles in the compound. Now! Confiscate all the weapons and ammo and take them to the armory. Let’s move, people! I don’t want these vehicles blocking our view in case we get more visitors!”
“Ben! You’re gonna want to see this!” Pine’s words were laced with an ominous sense of urgency.
Ben hastily joined Pine at the rear of Sterling’s limo and peered into the cavernous, gaping trunk. A pale blonde woman was crumpled inside, the dark pool of blood beneath her already congealed and sullied.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“They have who?” Howard Beck was certain his son was misinformed. It just wasn’t possible.
“Simon Sterling and Jackson Butler.”
“Both of them? Are you sure?”
“Our man at Fort Polk, Colonel Sanderson, confirmed it. And that’s not all; they have Stacy Reid. She was shot in the leg when they took Sterling. She lost a lot of blood but they patched her up. Looks like she lost one of her fingers recently, too, and it’s badly infected. She’s weak, but she can make the trip.”
“How’d she lose her finger?”
“Sterling cut it off himself. He was convinced she was involved in the attack on the funeral in Miami. She said he was about to torture her for information on the Castle but was interrupted, and she ended up in the trunk and headed for Fort McClellan instead. They stopped at Walt Disney World thinking it was a secure place to wait for reinforcements. Benjamin Black had other plans.”
“Butler was with Sterling? How can that be? It’s clear that he betrayed Sterling to the Chinese.”
“Pop, your guess is as good as mine.”
“Sterling must have no clue who attacked him. Any more chatter from the UAE, Hal? They have any intel?”
“Sir, rumors abound about the attack but nothing is solid.”
“Damn. What’s the word on Max?”
“He is out of surgery, sir. They replaced his broken vertebra with an implant and infused it with a bone graft and bone marrow. The nerve damage to his left leg is at a manageable level. He will be able to walk; however, the pain in his hip will require him to wear a brace and rely upon a cane for stability.”
“Poor Max. We need to bring him back here so he can get the surgery he needs.” Howard had a tough time empathizing with others, but doing so with someone like Max— someone he cared about— was not difficult. “Hal, is he stable enough to transport?”
“No, sir. He will require at least three days of recovery.”
“Dad, I hope the damage to his back doesn’t complicate things. What do you think, Hal?”
“Sir, I am unable to make that kind of an assessment until I can examine Mr. Harris.”
Howard had already moved on, ready to focus on the important task at hand. “Hal, have Mr. Twigg report to the command center. We need to prepare for the arrival of our prisoners.”
“Yes, sir.”
***
Charles was sitting in his unassuming sedan thinking about his employer. The thought of being transported across the expanding wasteland tied up in the trunk of a car or in the back of a filthy truck horrified his refined and dignified sensibilities. Charles would rather be shot than compromise his dignity by being bound, gagged, and blindfolded. Perish the thought.
Charles thought of his employer and was excited about his arrival. He hated Americans with every fiber of his being and was thrilled to assist in their downfall. Charles knew things about the Chinese that Jackson did not. Jackson was wrong on every front. They were not coming as allies to help them defend against Iran; they were coming to conquer and enslave the American people. They needed every resource imaginable—food, water, minerals, timber and, most importantly, land to establish Chinese colonies in order to alleviate the overcrowding caused by their massive population. The Chinese did not view themselves as invaders; they sincerely had the best interest of the entire world at heart. They believed The Great Empire of Iran needed to be stopped at all costs, and the Unified American Empire was in no condition to do so. Once they secured the UAE from east to west and devoured her resources, they would traverse the Atlantic and liberate Europe from the Iranians.
Two superpowers were fighting for control of the world, and the former United States of America was the unwilling pawn in the global chess game.
***
Dennis Twigg was not ready to be in charge of security. He was happy to be the number two man—plenty of power and influence but never the big chair. Dennis also knew that he could never fill Director Harris’s shoes, no matter how hard he tried. With Max recovering in San Francisco, it was obvious that the director would not be returning to Beck Castle for some time. Dennis knew the job well enough. He had memorized all the protocols put in place by President Beck and Director Harris, but when push came to shove, he was just not a pencil-pusher or an administrator. He was quite proficient in making rounds in the dormitory wing and conducting screening interviews for prospective residents on the quarantine level. Making serious decisions and having to answer for them was something Dennis had never done.
President Beck had summoned him to the command center. Not sure if he should knock, Dennis simply stood there. A few seconds later, the door opened.
“Mr. Twigg, get in here!”
Oh shit! I’m already in trouble!
Dennis had never had an extended conversation with the president. Though they’d met a few times, President Beck never seemed to remember his name. To Howard’s brilliant mind, it was a waste of time and energy to store minute bits of useless information. Only when something was important enough to remember did it get stored in his long-term memory.
“Yes, Mr. President? What can I do for you?”
Howard remained focused on the spherical monitor before him. Dennis couldn’t imagine how the man could process information from a dozen different monitors, but it seemed like he was doing it with ease.
“Howard.”
“Mr. President?”
“Howard, or if you can’t wrap your head around that, call me Mr. Beck. Name the f
our most competent security personnel on staff.”
“Uh, well, Mr. Beck, let me think...”
“Quickly, Mr. Twigg. This is important.”
“Well, Mr. Beck, I’d have to say Burba, Rodden, Goode, and Bell.”
“We have two high-level prisoners coming to the Castle. I will not tell you in advance who they are. I want you to personally strip search each officer for contraband, to include listening devices or any sort of lethal weapon. They are only to carry restraints and non-lethal deterrents. I want two officers in the detention area and two officers in the security suite at all times. Neither you nor your officers are to speak a word to anyone regarding the identity of the prisoners. Are we clear?”
“Yes, sir. When will the prisoners arrive?”
“I’m not sure. Just have your people standing by the detention cell till further notice. Get to work, Mr. Twigg.”
Howard touched the holographic screen in front of him, and the door to the command center opened. Dennis took this as his cue to leave.
***
Colonel William Sanderson awoke in the back of his beat-up, twelve-year-old mini-van outside a run-down hotel within the secure compound of Oklahoma City. He’d rented a room and had his wife barricade herself and the children inside by pushing the dresser and tables in front of the door. He’d given Lindsay a pistol for added protection. William had lied to Lindsay about why he was going to sleep in the minivan. He wanted to keep an eye on the prisoners in the back of the trailer, but it was not something she needed to know. William had called in a few favors and gotten some powerful sedatives from the base hospital at Fort Polk. Both of his prisoners were sound asleep and had been for twelve hours. He had placed them in a large storage container with several air holes drilled for respiration. William’s only fear was—despite being duct-taped like mummies—they’d wake up and make enough noise to attract unwanted attention.
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