Parker ran down the stairs and found Evelyn and the girls waiting. The family scurried across the yard to the waiting Huey. He heard a Black Hawk in whisper mode hovering above the trees, its nose pointed down the road away from the house. When the Huey pilot saw them approach the clearing some hundred yards from the house, he wound the jets up to take off power but left the rotors idling.
Burt Logan raced across the open space in the four-wheel drive and pulled up to the chopper door. Rangers helped throw boxes of files, radio equipment, and weapons into the Huey as the others jumped in.
General Parker looked at his wife and daughters and at Logan’s wife and children and thought, What an Army I have.
An Apache appeared over the trees flying toward the Huey. The Black Hawk fired and took it out. The Apache exploded in a blinding flash. The Black Hawk swung back to its original position, and began firing rockets and machine guns down the road.
Burt Logan jumped aboard and yelled, “Get the hell out of here!”
Colonel Nelson ran up to the cockpit, and a few seconds later they lifted off the ground, hugging the treetops, and flew at top speed to the west. Colonel Nelson soon returned to sit next to General Parker, and handed him a headset. “Sir, this set has its own send and receive built in. We’re on our own private frequency”
“How did they know where we were, Colonel?”
“Sir, I wish I knew. We were standing by about twenty clicks from your location in the event you had to evacuate. I got the evacuation call the same time Logan got it.”
“Where are we going?”
“First stop, Alexandria, Kentucky. That’s about as far as we can stretch our fuel and one of the reasons I wanted to talk privately. Sir, we have no idea how they knew about Logan’s place.” He glanced slightly at the four ex-Army Rangers, who had abandoned the site with them.
General Parker lowered his voice and asked, “One of them?”
“Perhaps, but who knows? They were checked out. I’d hate like hell to think one of our people was working for the other side.” Colonel Nelson continued. “General, don’t take this personally but when we land in Kentucky, I want to, no I have to scan every single person on board this helicopter for tracking devices.”
General Parker nodded by way of answering. No one aboard the Huey knew about the General’s command center he’d set up over the last few years in Washington State. It was staffed full time with nearly three hundred loyal, trustworthy people . . . all Special Forces and Special Ops. Burt Logan, his nephew, and others, convinced him years ago that some sort of action would happen one day to destroy our democracy. He’d created his own command center in an abandoned mine far from any city or town. Regardless of where this group ended up, that is where he and his family would eventually travel.
Now his problem was Colonel Nelson finding the small transmitter hidden in the money belt he wore since leaving D.C. Parker would have to level with Nelson about the transmitter, and hope he didn’t have to kill him.
In a low voice, Parker said, “Colonel Nelson, when we land in Kentucky, I want you to walk away from the others with me for a moment. I have some info for you.”
Colonel Nelson didn’t answer or nod.
General Parker had paid little attention to the four Rangers before, but now he looked from man to man, and they looked like Rangers. Not the slightest of smiles or conversation had taken place between them. They had been trained to do the job.
It was late evening when the Huey and the Black Hawk landed outside Alexandria, Kentucky at a typical small town airport.
The pilot came through the door and announced, “Folks, we’re going to refuel a hot machine so it isn’t a hundred percent safe. Would everyone move some distance away?”
As they climbed from the chopper and walked into the early dusk, a large fuel truck pulled between the two choppers. Evidently, a lot of planning had gone into their escape from West Virginia, arousing General Parker’s suspicions. Maybe they had planned for an escape in the event they were discovered.
He and Colonel Nelson walked away from the others some hundred feet. When they stopped, General Parker said, “Colonel, I want you to understand something. With the situation being what it is, I don’t know you, nor do I know who to trust. I’m going to level with you and hope you’re on my side. No one on that chopper knows this . . . not my wife, and not even Logan. For some years, I knew this situation would eventually arise. That’s why I have established alternate headquarters over the last few years in a remote location. I’m wearing a small pouch about my waist with a satellite link transmitter. The only people I can contact are the Rangers at that location. I had to tell you this because your scan would find the transmitter.”
“I understand, General. Quite honestly, someone else put this entire escape plan together. This whole flight I’ve asked myself who. I’ve not completely leveled with you, Sir. I received the plan to evacuate whoever was present at the complex if it were to be compromised. The packet of instructions came from the Pentagon. No signature, no name, just where to go for refueling and where to go from here . . . Scott Air Force Base in Illinois.”
Parker glanced at the refueling trucks. “I don’t like that idea.”
“Neither do I, and that’s why we’ll ignore it. Where do you want to go, Sir?”
“I’m not sure. Where can we refuel?”
“Let’s go and talk to the pilots. They should have an idea of smaller airports.”
Both pilots walked to the workbench at the side of the hangar where they spread out their maps.
Addressing General Parker, the Huey pilot asked, “Sir, we can make about four hundred fifty miles flying at the speed we have been. If we cut our speed down to about one twenty-five, we can make about five hundred miles. You want speed or distance?”
“Both, of course, but I suppose we could compromise,” Parker replied.
“What direction, and how far?” the Hawk pilot asked.
Parker almost told them Washington State, but answered, “I don’t know. Maybe out to the west somewhere.”
“Okay, Sir. We can make it to Rolla, Missouri in one jump if we conserve fuel. From there . . .”
General Parker interrupted. “Major, are you checked out on fixed wing?”
“Sir, it depends on the aircraft, but between Captain Sayers and myself, we can probably handle anything outside a jumbo jet.”
“Then perhaps we can find some longer range transport in Rolla.”
“Rolla’s pretty small, Sir, but we would have the option of grabbing a small fixed wing and finding something larger in Tulsa or Oklahoma City. I’m not sure what the situation there is, but we can always return to Rolla.”
“Let’s do it, Major. And, uh, Major, let’s leave the escorts here. I mean the ex-Rangers. It might be a good idea to keep the Hawk escort until we get to Rolla. Someone compromised us in West Virginia. The fewer people the better.”
“Yes Sir. I understand. Why don’t you have the Colonel or Mister Logan send them on a food scouting mission just before we leave?”
“Yeah, that’ll work.” Colonel Nelson answered.
“How soon will we be ready to leave?” General Parker asked.
Major Jenkins glanced over at the refueling truck. “Ten minutes.”
~~~
The Hawk and Huey lifted into the sky, minus the four ex-Rangers. One of the two people who refueled the choppers pulled a small radio out of his pocket. “They just lifted off.” He quickly shoved the radio in his coveralls as the ex-Rangers came around the corner . . . their M 16s in the ready position.
“Who were you talking to, Dude?” one of the Rangers asked.
“Wa . . . what do you mean?” the fuel man stammered.
A Ranger approached him, and grabbed the bulge in the coveralls pocket. “What do we have here?”
It was obvious the man was frightened. “It’s nothing, Mister!”
The Ranger pulled the radio out of the man’s pocket and flipped it open. He
spoke into the speaker and said, “Your fucking traitor in Kentucky is dead.” Then he threw the radio on the ground and put a bullet through it. The man turned to run. The Ranger’s next round split the man’s head almost in half. The second man sprinted from the hangar. Shots blasted and the man fell. Shot in the back by two of the Rangers.
The Rangers checked around to see if anyone else was about, then one of them asked, “Why do you think the General left us, Marty?”
The middle-aged ex-Ranger smiled. “All part of the big plan, Jim. General Parker didn’t know who to trust. I know right where he’s going and we’ll end up there in a few days. All we need is some truck transportation to Cincinnati. Let’s go into town and see what we can commandeer.”
~~~
The town seemed deserted. Standing in the shadow of the grain elevator alongside the tracks, Jim Ferrell asked, “Where do you think everyone is?”
Martin Stewart, known as Marty, spit some tobacco juice at a grasshopper. “Maybe they headed off to hide from the asteroid.”
He no sooner spoke than headlights turned onto the main street of the town and cruised slowly toward them. A bright spotlight played across the rooftops and in between buildings.
As the vehicle came nearer, Marty whispered, “Well, looky there. Just what we need, a deuce and a half. Quick, move around back. When they’ve passed us, come around the other side of the building. I’m gonna get behind that water trough over there and try to see who the hell it is. If I give you the signal, we take it.”
The other three moved quickly along the side of the building, while Marty dropped to the ground, and scurried on hands and knees some fifty feet to a watering trough for animals.
Marty wasn’t surprised to see the United Nations flag on the door of the truck. “Motherfuckers, think you can take over my country, do you? I’ll show you who the fuck is in charge,” he muttered under his breath. When he looked at the opposite front corner of the building, the other three Rangers were in position. The truck stopped directly in the middle of the road, and the lights went out. The engine shut down, and it was strangely quiet for so early in the evening.
They watched three men exit the rear of the truck, and the driver and a passenger climbed to the ground. Marty smiled and whispered, “Like old times.” The three Rangers maneuvered along the side of the railroad tracks until they came even with the truck. Marty figured there was a whole damned squad under that canvas cover. Of course, his team had faced much greater odds many times in the past, but none of them were getting any younger.
When he heard Jim yell out, “HELP,” the U.N. soldiers left the security of the truck and ran toward the tracks. Marty nearly laughed aloud. He darted to the other side of the road into the tall weeds and ran toward the truck. Standing at the front of the truck, his M 16 raised, he waited. One U.N. soldier staggered to the edge of the road, and fell face up, his uniform covered with blood.
Marty heard a loud laugh, and Jim called out, “You got things under control over there, Marty?”
“Yeah. Let’s get rolling.”
As the Rangers came running through the trees, Marty pulled the flap of the truck aside. “Shit, couldn’t have gotten lucky enough for them to be carrying a load of weapons.”
The three Rangers carried five blue U.N. helmets with the emblem of a world wreath on the sides. Bobby Conklin said, “Thought these might come in handy if we have to pass ourselves off as U.N. troops.
Two Rangers jumped in the back under the tarp.
Jim climbed into the driver’s seat as Marty walked around the cab and crawled in to ride shotgun.
“Which way?” Jim asked.
“Back through town. We need to head over about seven miles to County Road 10. What’s the fuel gage look like?”
Jim laughed and answered, “Looks like those good ole U.N. boys filled up for us.”
Marty then pulled a small radio from his pack and pressed the send button. “MS. Forty-five minutes.”
As he put the radio back in his pack, Jim asked, “What was that about?”
“We’re going to pick up a few more men and supplies and go catch us a train in beautiful Cincinnati.”
Jim shook his head, smiled, and repeated, “Go catch us a train in Cincinnati. Okay. Hey, Marty, why the hell you suppose there would be U.N. troops in such a small place as Alexandria, Kentucky?”
“Blocking all the roads running toward a small town called Paris, Kentucky. Well kept secret, but there’s a huge arms depot there. They wouldn’t want anyone opposed to them to take it over. Of course, what they don’t know is, half the weapons have been secretly moved out over the last couple of years.” Marty chuckled and said, “The other half won’t do them a damned bit of good. The place has been wired for total destruction at the press of the right button. Jim, there’s our road up ahead. Take a right, and then pour on the coal. If this thing doesn’t have a governor on it, kick it up to eighty. Just don’t kill us for God’s sake.”
~~~
Twenty miles north on County Road 10 and a few miles outside Ryland, Kentucky, they took a right turn on a narrow dirt road running half a mile to a huge farmhouse. A hundred fifty yards from the house Marty said, “Stop. Turn the lights off, then flash again.”
A few seconds later an answering flash answered their signal. Jim drove to the rear of the old house and into an open barn door. As they stepped from the truck, a flashlight shined in their eyes.
From the direction of the light, a man’s voice called, “Hey, Marty. You’re a bit early. Have any problems?” He turned the light off.
“Naw, nothing we couldn’t handle. Do you have the cargo ready, Jack?”
In response to Marty’s question, Jack said, “Okay, guys, let’s get loaded.” Men in the hayloft began lowering boxes, while four others came out of the dark and began lifting them into the truck. “Got enough shit here to start our own war, buddy.”
“Good,” Marty replied. “That’s exactly what we’ll be using them for before this is over. Your nephew all set in Cincinnati?”
Jack laughed. “Yeah. He sure is a nervy bastard. He screwed something up on one of them new fast-assed passenger engines, so it had to be left in the yard for repair. He just removed a part and hid it in the yard, but he’ll have it fixed and several boxcars ready to go when we get there.”
“Heard anything from any of the other teams?” Marty asked.
“The four in Cincy are ready. Haven’t heard from the others.”
“You know, we might get a few heavy weapons out in case we need them in route,” Marty said, looking over the inventory.
“Way ahead of you, buddy.”
Thirty minutes later, the men and supplies were on their way to the Cincinnati Railroad Repair Yard. It sat on the east side of the city where the citizens had sued the railroads to move for safety reasons. Thank God for the citizens of Cincinnati! It would have been a bitch getting to the rail yards in its old location, damned near dead center in downtown.
~~~
Marty was surprised at the number of trucks parked along the tracks, transferring crate after crate of various weapons to the rail cars. It did worry him that the engine sat silent. Knowing nothing about railroads or engines, he thought they had to build up a head of steam or something before taking off.
When he quietly asked his old Ranger buddy, Jack, about it, Jack laughed and said, “This baby can be moving in about fifteen seconds. Simple as starting your car, slipping it into gear, and releasing the brake.”
A young man approached as the last of the crates were being loaded and asked, “Hey, Jack, you about ready?”
“Yeah. Five minutes. Marty, this is my nephew, Harry Bonham.”
“Good to meet ya, Marty. Listen, all these damned switches operate from a control center here. I have two huge bars in the first boxcar. Just outside the yard here, we’re gonna have to manually move the switch to get on the main line. I saw several guys with blue helmets nosin’ around the control center earlier. There
were only three of them, so I got rid of ‘em.”
Jack looked at him in apparent astonishment. “What do you mean, you got rid of them?”
“I threw them off the fuckin’ tower. Ain’t no fuckin’ blue headed motherfuckers messin’ with my railroad. Spoke some kinda foreign shit. Don’t want no fuckin’ foreigners fuckin’ with my railroad, neither.”
Jack stifled a laugh. “Good for you, kid. You’re my kinda guy. Looks like we’re ready to roll. Marty and I will ride in the engine with you.”
Seconds later, four burly men with heavy wrecking bars pushed the switch. The train moved onto the main track. First stop . . . the flatlands of eastern Illinois. Next stop . . . the Ozarks west of St. Louis, then Rolla, Missouri. At each stop, they would be joined by more men and weapons.
~ 9 ~
The helicopters flew close to the ground the last few miles into the Rolla airport. Parker saw a large fuel truck parked close by the hangar as they moved across the open field. He was amazed at the plans laid over the last few years by Burt Logan and his cohorts. The Hawk and Huey slowly sat down, engines whining to a low pitch, and the rotors stopped.
The General jumped to the ground, pacing back and forth a few feet to stretch his cramped legs. Logan helped the girls and the wives to the ground and then led them to a small door at the back of the hangar and motioned the General to follow. Inside the small lean-to room there was fresh cooked barbeque beef sandwiches and hot coffee. On a side table were cans of pop and a large container of ice. Bottled water had been placed down the middle of the table. A ceiling fan stirred the heat around the room. Logan motioned for Parker to sit down at the end of the table in the airport snack room.
He took one of the large sandwiches himself, and then slid the tray over to General Parker. Noticing the ladies were busy at the other end of the room he spoke in a low voice, “We have to leave the choppers and change our mode of transportation. We’re staying in here until the day crew leaves at four and we’ll leave with them. I’m hoping we’ll be safe.”
Patriots Awakening Page 11
