by Bobby Akart
“God will be taking me soon. I need to say goodbye to Miss Lucy.”
Palmer’s eyes filled with tears. She didn’t think it was possible to cry so much, but two people whom she loved dearly were both lying on the cold ground in the middle of the woods, and one of them was preparing himself to die.
“No. There will be no goodbyes. I’ve been praying for you to live. God will not take you now!” Palmer raised her voice slightly, which stirred her mother awake.
“Palmer, is everything okay?”
“Momma, Preacher’s awake, and he’s asking for you.”
Lucy turned her face toward her old friend and smiled. His eyes locked with hers, and the man who’d been like a brother to Major returned her smile.
“Hey there, Preach,” she began. “Glad to see ya back among the living.”
“Miss Lucy, it will be my time soon.”
He began to cough, and a little blood came out of the side of his mouth. Palmer quickly wiped it off so neither Preacher nor her mother could see it. The tears flowed again as she realized that this was a sign of internal bleeding, and Preacher didn’t have much longer.
“Maybe so, but not yet, mister. I’m pretty sure my husband will be mighty pissed off if you leave without saying goodbye!”
Preacher chuckled, which caused him more pain than joy. “Water, please.”
Palmer quickly provided him another drink.
He nodded his appreciation and turned his attention back to Lucy. “You helped me when I was at the lowest of lows. I’ve thanked God daily for you both and prayed for the safety of all of us. I am sorry this has happened.”
He began coughing again, but this time it was deeper and guttural. More fluid was coming up out of his lungs.
The door to Red Rover opened as Sook emerged from inside. She rushed next to Palmer and immediately felt Preacher’s forehead.
She whispered in his ear, “Hi, Preacher. You must rest.”
He nodded but ignored her as he continued. “Miss Lucy, tell the boss man thank you for everything he has done for me. I’ve never said it enough myself.”
Sook dug through the medical bag and located the thermometer. She slipped on a sterile probe cover and inserted it into Preacher’s mouth. “This will keep you quiet for a moment.” She could see the crow’s feet lines appear on the outside corners of his eyes, indicating he appreciated her friendly admonishment.
Lucy finally responded to Preacher. “He will be here soon enough. We’ll get you to a hospital, and you’ll be back in the saddle in no time. You need to stay positive and fight for your life, Preacher.”
He smiled again, and then his eyes closed as he lost consciousness.
Sook immediately felt for his pulse. “It’s high but good. He needs more rest, and so do you, Miss—”
Before Sook could finish her sentence, Cooper rushed into the clearing. “We’ve heard more gunfire from the direction of the Slaughters’ place. I feel bad, but we can’t help them. They’re on their own.”
“I agree, son,” said Miss Lucy. “We have our own troubles.”
Suddenly, Riley emerged into the clearing as well. “Coop, come back. There’s more gunfire. This time it’s coming from the north side of the ranch.”
“Daddy?” asked Palmer.
“Or Duncan,” said Cooper. “Either way, you and Sook keep alert. It could be the commandos searching the ranch for us.”
Palmer reached over and squeezed Sook’s hand. “Let’s get ready to fight.”
Chapter 11
January 23
The North Gate
The Armstrong Ranch
Borden County, Texas
Major Armstrong glanced down at his watch for the tenth time since they’d left Austin. The entire day had been a whirlwind of activity since the helicopter dispatched by President Marion Burnett had arrived at their ranch. He was naturally disappointed when he learned that the chopper had been sent away on other presidential business, which required him to ride in the back of a specially equipped Ford Police Interceptor utilized by the Texas Highway Patrol. His two-man escort rode in the front seat, remaining quiet for the majority of the ride back to the ranch. This suited Major fine, as he had some weighty issues on his mind.
President Burnett had formally offered him the job as her second vice president of the newly formed nation. Under the circumstances, Major was naturally cautious about the offer. Her first vice president, Montgomery Gregg, had died at the receiving end of a highly-trained-sniper’s bullet. Major was not interested in suffering a similar fate.
During the ride back, he considered the pros and cons. The situation in Texas had changed dramatically since the initial EMP attack had struck the rest of the United States. The former state was blessed to have been spared from the direct effects of the power grid collapsing and the subsequent nuclear war between North Korea and the States.
His family was together once again, and they seemed to be ready for the long haul, until the unthinkable had occurred. As Duncan warned, North Korean commandos were on North American soil, and they were coming for Texas. The attack had resulted in breached borders, the collapse of the ERCOT grid, and now the threat the Lightning Death Squads posed to ordinary Texans.
Major knew what the safe approach was. Mind his own business, protect the ranch, and most importantly, protect his family. To be fair, he considered the option of taking the position. The president had made him her first choice. She’d given him a short time frame to respond because it meant she’d move on to a second choice, or even a third.
He didn’t necessarily consider Marion to be in a position of weakness, but he knew that he had the opportunity to write his own meal ticket. The president would not deny him any reasonable conditions he proposed.
So what were they? Under what conditions would Major risk danger to his family, and himself, by becoming Texas Vice President Armstrong?
First and foremost, he’d insist upon protection for the ranch. A full security detail, possibly platoon size, even if it was on the low end of sixteen to twenty troops.
Second, he would reside at the residence and utilize a helicopter for the less-than-three-hundred-mile ride from the ranch to Austin. He could get a lot of paperwork done in that hour or so flight back and forth each day.
Third, he would become the daily point of contact for the military. With Duncan’s assistance, he’d make sure the forces were loyal to Texas and not their former employer, the United States. This aspect of secession had concerned Major from the beginning. Despite his dislike of Gregg, Major understood the importance of his presence in Marion’s cabinet. Before he was assassinated, Gregg had been the glue that held the military in place.
Finally, there were other perks that went with this position of power, including food and medical care. The aggravation of becoming a politician might be worth the comfort of knowing his family had an increased chance of survival.
All of these scenarios swirled through Major’s mind as he directed the troopers toward the north gate of the ranch. As they approached, their headlights shone on two unfamiliar figures. Major leaned forward and grasped the back of the front seat to get a better look.
“Guys! Something’s not—”
He never got to finish his sentence as a hail of gunfire obliterated the windshield and killed his escorts instantly. It was pure luck or a gift from heaven that allowed Major to survive the volley.
He fell backwards into the rear seat and ducked to avoid the ricocheting bullets and flying pieces of glass. He forced himself to think as the gunfire continued to riddle the Ford with bullets.
Major looked up and realized the vehicle was still inching forward. The driver was slumped over the steering wheel, but the truck was still in gear. This was his opportunity to escape. He immediately remembered that he didn’t have a rifle with him. He felt for his sidearm, which was still secured in his holster.
He planned on opening the door while the truck was still moving to utilize the distraction.
Just as he reached for the handle, he realized he’d forgotten his radio. That was his only lifeline to Duncan and help.
As the truck continued to roll dangerously close to the shooters, he fumbled through the darkness, feeling his way along the seat and then the floorboard of the truck. Finally, his hand stretched underneath the driver’s seat and he felt it. Major grunted as he reached for the radio until he had it firmly in his grasp.
The gunfire continued, and the noise was deafening. He had to go. Major threw open the right-side door and rolled onto the hard gravel surface. He regained his footing. He gripped the radio and began to run away from the shooters, attempting to keep the truck between them and himself for protection.
His feet clumsily slipped on the loose gravel again as he tried to flee his attackers. Once on his feet, he tried to find the speed-dial button on the satellite phone as he ran. That was when the commandos’ laser sights found him. He began running in a zigzag pattern in attempt to avoid their aim.
Major cut to the right, and bullets tore up the ground to his left. He emulated a tailback well past his prime being pursued by tacklers as he darted back to the left, once again cheating death.
His adrenaline kept him going toward the narrow bridge that crossed the Colorado River on the north side of the ranch. He glanced down again and found the speed dial on the phone. He had to call Duncan before he was killed so he could get help for his family.
More gunfire erupted behind him as he heard Duncan answer the phone. “Son! Help! We need you—”
Major wasn’t able to finish the sentence as a bullet knocked the phone out of his hand, causing it to break into a dozen pieces. Frightened, Major lost his composure as he ducked another volley and started down the hill toward the river crossing. He rolled an ankle in a pothole and toppled off the hard-packed surface toward the shoulder. He tumbled over and over, banging his body against rocks while scraping his hands and face on underbrush.
The gunfire continued, but they were shooting in the direction of the bridge. He’d managed to evade and escape his pursuers. Major took a moment to recover from the chase. He needed to catch his breath in order to make it across the river in these low temperatures. One misstep and he could slip under the water and most certainly succumb to hypothermia.
Major knew his land. He knew where the best points to cross the river were. He had to hurry to sneak under the bridge, where the men would be looking for him, and get past the beaver dam, which he’d built with his sons before the world went to crap. Due to the drought they’d suffered for years, this would be the shallowest point at which to cross.
He knew the way along the grassy riverbank, as he’d ridden the perimeter many times with Preacher. The cold weather did have its benefits. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer to God, thanking Him for the cold weather of January, as opposed to the heat of summer, when these marshy areas would be full of copperheads.
It took Major thirty minutes or more to pass the back side of Miss Lucy’s barnyard. He stopped for a moment and contemplated walking toward the back of the barn to take a look around. Then he heard the North Koreans’ voices. They were near the barnyard. That was when the realization came over him that his ranch was lost.
Grief immediately overcame him. Is my family dead? Have these animals overrun the ranch and murdered my wife and children? Dread and then anger built up inside Major. He wanted to run up the embankment, past the windmill that had become a symbol of the ranch’s history, and shoot everything that moved.
Then he remembered a conversation he’d had with Preacher while they’d moved cattle down through the ravine toward the abandoned ranch to their east. Preacher’s words had been live to fight another day.
He had to have confidence in Preacher’s and Lucy’s abilities to make the right decisions in order to stay out of harm’s way. He trusted Preacher to remember his own words.
Major fought back the emotions and gathered himself up off the wet ground. He needed to get to safety, and now his only hope was to flag down his son as he approached from Lubbock. If he didn’t intercept Duncan, he’d be driving straight into a Hornet’s Nest.
Chapter 12
January 23
Boys Ranch, Texas
Duncan and Espy had reached Boys Ranch north of Amarillo an hour and a half ago. The number of refugees who’d broken through the northern border of Texas was larger than initially reported. Plus, the number who were armed astonished Duncan as he made his initial assessment. As his unit reported the findings of their reconnaissance, Duncan began to wonder whether the people who’d infiltrated the community made up primarily of orphaned children and their counselors were part of a larger orchestrated effort. These men were armed with AR-15s and AK-47s. They weren’t trained to do battle with Duncan’s Texas Quick Reaction Force, but with kids as human hostages, his team had to attempt to negotiate before the TX-QRF escalated the standoff to the next level.
Another hour of the standoff had passed, and Duncan was growing impatient. “Espy, we’ve tried negotiating,” started Duncan as he observed the small town from a nearby hillside. “It would be impossible to know how many of them are inside the community and where the hostages are tucked away.”
“We could wait them out,” offered Espy. “Maybe they’ll get nervous and give up.”
“I don’t know. They seem entrenched. They’ve got a roof over their head and food in their bellies. All we can do is keep them contained and be prepared to respond to any hostile move on their part.”
One of Duncan’s lieutenants approached the front of the Humvee. He was holding out a map of Boys Ranch, which was covered with a number of circles, arrows, and numbers. He opened it up on the hood of the truck and used his flashlight to illuminate the details.
“Whadya have, Lieutenant?” asked Duncan.
“Sir, the best we can tell, there are a total of seventeen armed gunman and another half-dozen females accompanying them,” started the lieutenant. He began to point to various highlighted locations on the map. “They are positioned in the areas marked with circles. The number next to the circle corresponds with the quantity of gunmen.”
“Commander,” started Espy, who always referred to Duncan by rank when they were in the presence of other members of the military. He began tracing his fingers around the map. “If we change our tactics from containment to a stealth attack on their positions, we might be able to slowly pick them off. They’re spread around the town, and it’s doubtful they’re working with comms. We can pick them off, free the hostages, and encircle the remainder of the hostiles.”
Duncan thought for a moment. This was a risky maneuver because the eruption of gunfire could throw the entire operation into chaos. However, he wasn’t in a position to conduct a prolonged standoff. He’d already been told that his unit was on its own by his superiors at Fort Hood. They were overwhelmed with border control and dealing with chaos in the larger cities of Texas as a result of the power outage.
“Let’s do it, Sergeant,” said Duncan. “Break your men up into teams. Keep the comms open, and I’ll act as a rover to respond to hot spots as needed.”
“Yessir,” said Espy, who rolled up the map and led the lieutenant down the hill toward their temporary encampment. Ten minutes later, the teams were traveling to their point of entry to begin the operation.
Duncan studied the town through his night-vision field glasses. The ATN military-issue night-vision goggles used the best night-vision technology in the world. He especially liked the head-strap system, which allowed hands-free use.
He studied the perimeter and observed his teams getting into place. He returned to the driver’s seat of the Humvee and turned up the volume on his radio.
“Alpha team, ready!”
“Bravo team, ready!”
Each of Espy’s teams were in position, awaiting his orders. Duncan was reaching for the microphone above his head when his satellite phone rang.
He pressed the receive button and immediately hear
d automatic gunfire fill the cab of the truck. He had to take a second glance through the windshield to make sure Espy hadn’t already engaged the hostage takers. Then he realized it was coming from the phone.
“Hello?”
“Son! Help! We need you—”
Duncan heard his father’s voice through the earpiece as the gunfire continued before the signal went dead. He frantically tried to redial, but the phone rang continuously.
Duncan jumped out of the truck and walked in circles as he ran his fingers through his hair. His dad was in trouble, but he had no idea where he was.
We need you. We! He said we. Dammit! The ranch was under attack, and he was two hundred plus miles away!
“Commander, on your orders, sir.”
It was Espy’s voice coming through the radio in the Humvee. Duncan had to make a decision. He had a duty to his country, but he’d vowed to always place his family first.
“Sir?”
“Roger, Sergeant. There is an emergency at home base.”
The line remained silent for a few seconds as Espy analyzed the statement. Duncan deliberately used the word home, hoping Espy would pick up on the reference.
“Shall we abort, sir?”
Decision time.
“No, Sergeant. You’re a green-go. You are now in charge of this op. Heads up and eyes open, boys.”
Duncan fired up the Humvee and tore off down the highway toward Amarillo and beyond. The military Humvees he’d driven in the Middle Eastern theater had a top speed of seventy miles per hour. He’d pushed this Texas National Guard model to nearly ninety. He was about to find out what this truck was capable of.
*****
Duncan’s mind processed all of the scenarios as he sped through Gail toward the last dozen miles to the ranch. He’d reached out to Camp Lubbock to refresh his memory on their manpower status. Much of his unit was at Boys Ranch with Espy while only a skeleton crew remained to protect the TX-QRF facility. Pulling a two-man team would create gaping holes in their security, which would leave the base vulnerable to attack. He had no idea whether the ranch was under assault by Holloway and his seasoned commandos or not. He couldn’t afford to lose Camp Lubbock on a hunch.
