EMP Retaliation (Dark New World, Book 6) - An EMP Survival Story

by J. J. Holden

  Frank shook his head. “You aren’t thinking it through. We can’t do that. Remember that they have drones, night vision, thermal scopes that see over a mile out. They have command tools in those Strykers, so they’ll respond quickly to any threat they detect, and they’ll see us before we are anywhere near in range.”

  Ethan looked down, as frustrated as Frank. “You’re wrong. We should do this, and that’s what I’m going to tell Michael. I’d rather lose one guy taking out an Oshkosh than lose ten in a skirmish.”

  Frank clenched his teeth. Ethan could be so damn defiant sometimes. He was like that before the war, too, from what he had said. But Ethan was right about one thing—it was up to Michael, their General, to decide. In the Confederation, civilian leaders stayed the hell out of the way and let the general do his thing, with their full support.

  “Michael will see it my way, Ethan. But why go through that trouble? Why not just send teams out with laser spotters and arty the hell out of the target? They’d have ten to fifteen seconds to get out of the way, so we’d have to hit them when encamped, but what’s the range on a laser targeter thing?”

  “Michael said about four klicks on something as large as an M1 Abrams, two klicks on a Humvee or Oshkosh.”

  “Huh. He also said the max useful range on the optics in a Stryker was just over a mile. Maybe we can laser them when they aren’t moving, and not be seen.”

  “Cutting it close, but we have little to lose. I like that better than my first idea.”

  Frank grinned. That little shit could be amusing sometimes, even if he was a headache to manage. He was opinionated, but willing to change his mind if another idea came along that he thought was better. Frank said, “I don’t mind saying that I like this idea better than your first one, too, but only because it was a shitty plan to begin with. Of course.”

  Ethan snorted. “Har har. Alright, let’s get Michael on the radio and see what he thinks.”

  Frank watched as Ethan took his seat at the desk with all the radios and checked to see which channel Michael was on.

  Frank thought about the plan while he waited. It wasn’t a great plan, and it wouldn’t do more than scratch the surface of their bigger problem, but in attrition warfare that’s how it was done—one scratch at a time. Death by a thousand paper cuts. Besides, he figured, every time they blew up an enemy Humvee or whatever, they could shout about it all over the Confederation. Propaganda was important, especially when it looked like the lines were going to collapse soon. Once Harrisburg fell, Houle’s forces could blitz all through the Confederation’s heartland. It would take a lot of propaganda to make that one look like a win…

  * * *

  1300 HOURS - ZERO DAY +415

  General Ree awoke to the sounds of shouting in the hallway outside his suite. He leaped out of bed and grabbed his pistol even before his mind caught up enough to identify what had jolted him awake. Armed, he stood still and rubbed sleep from his eyes with one hand and pointed his pistol at the door with the other. The door was locked and made of steel, so it’d take quite a while to bash it down. If that happened, he’d duck out through his emergency escape long before the door fell. Dynamite, however, would make short work of the masonry around the door and blow it inward like a missile, so its strength would be irrelevant.

  Once he could see clearly, he threw on his brown uniform trousers and jacket, ignoring the uniform shirt for the moment, and buttoned the coat up quickly.

  The alarm siren began in the distance, first a low, mournful wail. The volume rocketed to become an angry roar, impossible to ignore. That meant it was serious. Ree paused and considered his options. If he stayed in the room, he was ultimately trusting that his forces would be victorious, but if he was wrong then staying could well be fatal.

  Or he could slide through a hidden hatch to the tunnel below, which ran west under the base and exited in the docks area on the island’s west coast. There was a set of clothes and other gear in the hallway, waiting for him. His “bugout bag,” as some Americans called it. He had heard the idea and liked it, and now he was very glad that he had done it.

  Lastly, he could leave the room and go command his troops in defense of his last remaining, most important fortification. That would be betting on victory, too, but with the added risk of getting shot by his own men either by accident or on purpose, or by a lucky sniper. It could, however, improve the odds his troops would win.

  There was a banging on the door and Major Pak Kim’s voice bellowed through. “My leader, let me in.”

  Ree heard panic in the man’s voice. Kim led Ree’s Logistics department and wasn’t a warrior, so it could mean nothing. Or it could mean he was being held by their enemies to fool Ree.

  Ree walked silently to the wall left of the door and peered through an off-center peephole—anyone who saw him looking out could not hit him by shooting through the heavy steel door somehow. Outside, he saw only Kim. Ree wrenched the lever aside to unlock the door and pulled it open enough for Kim to slide inside before slamming it closed and locking it once again.

  “Situation report, Major,” Ree ordered. He kept his voice level, and fought to hide the stress he felt. “Just tell me honestly and directly what is happening.”

  Kim snapped to attention and saluted, which told Ree a lot about how panicked the man was. He was almost on autopilot right now.

  Kim replied, “Hordes of Americans are storming the walls and coming up inside through the sewers, along with many troops of your colonels. I had previously blasted the tunnels people could fit through, but the traitor Worker’s Army must know of others.”

  Ree nodded. There was no time to shout or be angry. Not yet. “Will this base fall?” It was a simple, direct question, and his expression was intended to show that he wanted the same kind of answer.

  “Yes, Great Leader. Within the hour, all will be lost. This wing will likely be the last to fall, as your loyal soldiers fall back to protect you.”

  “Very well. Go, gather ten troops and full gear loads for all of them. Also for yourself. Then meet me back here in one half hour or less. I know what to do.”

  Ree watched his aide practically run to the door, open it, and disappear down the hall. Ree locked it behind Kim, then began to pace while his thoughts raced. His only option now was to make it through his secret tunnel to the western docks, commandeer a sailing boat, and sail with Kim and a few soldiers to the northwest. There was a deserted island out there that was not actually so deserted. It had been hollowed out prior to the invasion as an observation post and command center for the pre-invasion preparations, and though it was probably now deserted, it still remained intact. He could hide there and buy time to figure out what to do next.

  He thought of Kim, out there running around. Damn you, Kim, hurry up…

  * * *

  Frank steered right and swerved away from the oncoming Stryker, passing to its left. Four holes appeared in his battlecar’s right rear armor where someone else’s fifty-cal had torn into it, but the Stryker had provided timely cover as he passed it. In the distance behind him lay the bridge to Harrisburg, smoke rising thick and black on both sides of the river.

  He had lost a third of the Confederation’s battlecars already. They were no match for Strykers, Bradleys, or even the TOW-2 missiles of Oshkoshes. The remaining two-dozen battlecars had destroyed quite a few of those Oshkoshes, but couldn’t touch the other enemy vehicles. Houle’s M1 Abrams, all eight of them, were untouchable goliaths striding the battlefield like kings, destroying anything that was unlucky enough to come into view for more than a few seconds.

  Thirty seconds later, the tink, tink of small arms fire disappeared and he saw no more enemy vehicles. He whooped with a fierce joy and screamed at the top of his lungs. They had made it through the gauntlet! Or rather, most of them had. Now they would scour the enemy’s rear looking for supply trucks, especially the fuel tankers. Without those, Houle’s indestructible tanks would be immobilized, useless. It would give the Conf
eds a chance to hold Houle off. He smiled at the thought. If God was on their side, as Mandy said He surely must be, then Taggart’s reinforcements would arrive in a few hours on the rail lines, fully equipped. That was a long damn time in battle, though.

  Ahead, one of the battlecars veered left, and Frank looked to where they were headed. Trucks… a line of trucks in the distance. They wouldn’t be undefended, but that didn’t really matter anymore. Frank knew that he either won here today, buying the Confederation time, or everything would collapse.

  “All units,” he shouted on his little handheld radio, “turn south-southwest. The Lizzy Borden found us a target.”

  * * *

  Jaz galloped into Harrisburg with Choony close behind, and when she got to the HQ, they dismounted and handed the reins to one of Michael’s men outside. She glanced at Choony to make sure he was ready, then the two of them entered the tent. Inside, it was all like, dingy and poorly lit. Jaz wrinkled her nose.

  Michael’s voice came from her right, startling her. He said, “Sorry my new home isn’t up to your standards.”

  Jaz looked at him, but she couldn’t tell if he was kidding or not. She decided it was best to pretend he was. Dudes lightened up when she smiled at them, so she did. She was rewarded with a smile back from Michael. It always worked. “Hi, Michael. Where do you need us?”

  Michael shook Choony’s hand, then gave her a brief hug. He said, “We couldn’t send you out on mission with this mess brewing, but now we got a new mission. I hope you two enjoyed your vacation…”

  Jaz said, “So, like, where do you need us? We’re fresh and ready to do whatever you need, boss.”

  Michael’s face lost its cheer. He said, “Yes. It’s time to turn-to on defense, I’m afraid. Head to the gate and then man the wall sector just north of it. Your marksmanship will be a valuable asset there.”

  Jaz saluted, then she and Choony said their goodbyes and left for their assignment.

  Before they were halfway there, the faint popping noise she had heard near the HQ had become loud and continual in the distance ahead of them. She felt her adrenaline rising. “Let’s go kick some Mountain butt, Choon. Give me a good-luck kiss before we go get ourselves killed?”

  Jaz grabbed his shirt and pulled his face toward hers. She was quickly reminded of what she was fighting for. Her grin was half for Choony, who always lit her fireworks when they kissed, and half for the thought of joining the battle. She was addicted to both feelings, she decided, and that was just fine. One could be a lover and a warrior at the same time.

  They walked toward the wall hand-in-hand, each in their own thoughts as they headed back into battle yet again. Somehow, she always felt stronger with him at her side.

  * * *

  Carl decided that the tempo of battle really had slowed. It wasn’t only his imagination or wishful thinking. The enemy vehicles still moved, but not as much, not as aggressively. The Confed raiders must have had some success severing Houle’s lines of fuel supply. Those M1s, and even the Strykers, required fuel in vast quantities to be effective. Without mobility, the Confed’s larger numbers would allow them to dictate the battle’s flow. God bless Frank and the other battlecar crews!

  “Mortars,” he shouted into his handheld radio, “I need barrage at seven-five meters from my position, bearing one-eight-zero. Danger close.”

  His aide shouted to the unit, “Incoming mortar fire, take cover. Down, down, down.”

  Carl watched as his platoon dove face-first into the dirt. They weren’t highly trained like some of Michael’s units were, but they had enough battle experience to know they should follow an order like that and then ask questions, not the other way around.

  Boom, boom, boom. In a few seconds, the advancing platoon of Mountain infantry, along with a couple Oshkoshes, were torn apart by heavy mortar fire. Not the homemade stuff from Lebanon and Brickerville, but the good stuff that had come from Taggart back east, and from the armory the Confed had raided.

  “Charge by squads,” he shouted as soon as the thirty-second barrage ended. “Go get those bastards.” He rose to his hands and knees and then to his feet, and sprinted forward. He ran ten meters and hit the dirt again. Then he took aim, looking for any enemies, as the other half of his unit bolted past him. Ten meters ahead, they hit the dirt. Meter by meter, Carl’s unit advanced in leaps and bounds. Normally the leader of a Band wouldn’t be on the front lines, but with the enemy’s mobility, it was unavoidable. Now the bastards would regret this penetration to the Timber Wolves’ rear areas.

  Bang, bang. He fired two rounds into a camouflaged soldier, striking his chest and neck. Carl grinned; no trauma plates to protect the soldier’s neck. He glanced to the rear toward Harrisburg. The smoke and explosions back there showed how tenacious the Mountain’s soldiers were. When the two Army Groups had approached, the Confederation forces drove a wedge between the two. Yes, it meant the friendly forces had attackers on both sides, but the enemy units were now widely separated from one another, unable to concentrate their efforts.

  Meanwhile, the Confederation forces were all together, able to respond quickly to major thrusts as they occurred. The Confed troops outnumbered the attackers, so this was a plan that had worked so far. Mostly.

  An hour ago, Right Flank North broke ranks to chase retreating Mountain forces, but it was a trap. Michael had shifted the whole line to shore up RFL, but as Houle’s forces followed up, that now left them in control of this end of the bridge. Some of the Army group units were attacking Harrisburg haphazardly, but the city wasn’t mobile and Houle’s advantage in quality and equipment made his forces frighteningly effective at attacking fixed defenses.

  So far, the city held. Michael had spent the last hour trying to dislodge Army Group South from the bridgehead. Then fifteen minutes ago, several Mountain units had broken through into the middle area between Right Flank North and South, threatening to cut the Confed line in half lengthwise, but both flanks had pushed in toward the enemy and now the Mountain unit ahead should be the last of that breakthrough to survive his bloody counterattack. When his troops up ahead began to cheer, so did he. The threat had been repulsed. Carl gave them five seconds to celebrate, then ordered his units back into position.

  They had not yet had any luck dislodging Army Group South to retake the bridgehead, despite terrible losses on both sides. He had the ominous feeling that they were losing this battle. Cassy better come up with something quickly, or this would not end in their favor.

  * * *

  1600 HOURS - ZERO DAY +415

  Ree hastily opened the door and waved Kim and the others inside. He clanged the door shut behind them and turned to evaluate what Kim had brought. Ten soldiers, with full standard field packs for them and Kim alike. Ree nodded in approval. “All right, we have little time. Explosions are getting closer now and I doubt we will hold the fort for another half-hour.”

  Kim walked to one wall, which appeared to be nothing but bare cement with contraction lines running from floor to ceiling every four feet. He bent down and did something at the floor, then shifted four feet to his right and repeated the process. Ree watched as Kim stood and stepped back. A second later, a segment of the cement wall slid inward and to the right. The new opening revealed a tunnel, six feet wide. Kim said, “Two with me in front, the rest behind our Great Leader. Last man, flip the switch to the left of the door.”

  Ree followed Kim and the two front guards down the tunnel, and a few seconds later he heard a faint grinding noise as the cement wall closed up again. Along the tunnel, bright 12-watt lights had been mounted in the ceiling every ten feet, lighting the way. The tunnel would go over four hundred feet to the west, then turn northwest. Ree smiled. They were out of danger, for now.

  The tunnel shook and, even down there, Ree imagined he could hear the explosions going on above. Or maybe he actually could. He estimated that he was beneath the infirmary at that point, but he had no idea what could explode in there to make such a tremor.
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br />   A few minutes later, the tunnel turned right. They passed six foot tall stacks of crates lining one wall, stretching half the distance to the exit. Then the tunnel’s smooth cement ended at a brick wall, and the troops came to a halt. Everyone was silent for some reason, but even to Ree, the silence just felt appropriate to the moment. An ominous feeling permeated the very air he breathed.

  When Kim glanced at him, Ree nodded. He then turned to the wall and pressed on a pattern of three bricks. There was an audible click. Kim put both hands on the brick wall and pushed. It slid out about six inches, then slid to the left. Beyond was a small office.

  Kim motioned to the soldiers, who walked in a line into the office, the first man stopping at a door on the opposite wall. The man turned the handle and pushed the door open as he stepped aside, and those behind him bolted through the doorway. They arrayed themselves in a semicircle outside the office, weapons at the ready, allowing them to cover every direction.

  Only then did Ree leave the secret tunnel to enter the office. He turned and closed the brick “door” behind him, then strode forward out of the office to stand in the middle of the troops within the warehouse proper. He looked around the place and saw that it was only a very small warehouse. He had never been beyond the brick wall before, but he had the local map memorized. To his left would be a steel rolling bay door and a regular personnel door, both leading outside and facing the marina.

  The rest of the building was essentially barren, with only trash scraps here and there to give the illusion of being just another abandoned building. Ree knew that in reality, this warehouse was ideal as a hideout. It had been abandoned for a couple of years before the invasion, but was small enough that no one had been too eager to lease it. It had no windows and only those two doors to the outside. In other words, it was hidden in plain sight and no one could see inside.