Burt ignored her raving as he and General Parker headed for the FB37s where their pilots waited. When Parker glanced over, tears brimmed in Logan’s eyes. The woman had hurt Logan more than he would admit.
~~~
At fifteen thousand feet, the pilot started a slow descent back to earth. The passengers had been warned there would be no radios used on the flight. It seemed strange that it could be so silent and seemingly so slow in a huge, supersonic bomber like this. Yet it was anything but slow. The landscape changed dramatically and quickly. Exactly twenty-four minutes after the computers guided the planes through the tunnel and up to the flight altitude, they taxied under a camouflage enclosure in the middle of nowhere in far Northwest Idaho.
Ushered away from the planes to two armored personnel carriers, Melissa and Shelly rattled on about wanting to take that ride again. Contrary to Parker’s fears that they would be scared silly by the flight, they were thrilled.
The landing site was about a half mile from a beautiful large lake. The caravan traveled past the lake for fifteen miles, continuing straight north through the small town of Nordman. Strangely, the few people on the main street waved at them. Another thirty minutes north, they left the highway and turned onto a country road, traveling through a thin pine forest, eventually turning onto an old, logging road running to the west. Everyone was thankful when the jolting vehicles halted inside the entrance to the abandoned mine.
Evelyn asked, “Where in the world are we?”
General Parker put his arm around her and kissed her cheek. “For the time being, my dear, we’re home.”
“Where’s Peggy?” she asked in a low voice so the kids couldn’t hear. Evidently she was aware something was going on with Burt’s wife.
“Tell you about it later, but Peggy won’t be joining us. She’s a traitor. Don’t let on to the kids until later.”
Back at the secret airfield in Mark Twain National Forest:
Lieutenant Colonel Roy Boxwood yelled at his men, “Mount up. We have to get outa here.”
Sergeant Houdek asked, “Sir, what do we do about the woman?”
Colonel Boxwood stopped, and rubbed his fingers across his forehead. "SHIT! Yeah, what do we do?" Peggy stood in handcuffs and leg shackles but twenty paces from them. “Sergeant, we’ll take her with us, but first, I want every damned part of her body searched for a locator transmitter. Strip her down."
The Sergeant didn’t like this kind of warfare. “Naked, sir?”
“Yes. Naked! And do it now. We have to get out of here.”
When Sergeant Houdek stood in front of her, he said, “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you heard what the Colonel said. You can take your clothes off or I will.” The Sergeant removed the wrist and leg shackles.
Peggy was shaking, and her eyes were wide and frightened as she slowly removed her clothes.
“Ma’am! The Colonel said we have to hurry.” He made no effort to be gentle as he ripped her clothes off, including her bra and panties. “Now, turn around slowly and spread your legs.” After she complied, he instructed her to raise both arms fully. He raised her ample breasts one at a time, and felt under them.
“Enjoying yourself, huh Sergeant?” Peggy seductively asked the young soldier. “Anything you see is yours if you’ll help me get away. Your friends are all going to get killed and so will you. I can make you rich, and give you the best sex you’ve ever imagined, if you’ll only help me?”
“Shut the fuck up!” he screamed. “You think after I’ve served my country all these years I’d want to get sex from something like you? I’ve served because I believe in what our country stands for. I damn sure wouldn’t desert it for a fuckin’ piece of ass or a blow job. Hey, what the fuck is this under your arm?” He reached out, and felt the small cylindrical shape between his fingers. “So that’s where your transmitter is located. I’ll be damned! Pretty damned tricky. What do ya say I just crush that little fucker?”
Peggy Logan screamed at him, “NO! NO! It’ll kill me! It’s poison! Please don’t!” She tried to back away as she squeezed her arm down against his hand, but she backed into the side of the building.
The Sergeant grabbed her around the neck and slammed his hand into her armpit. Then, he exerted as much pressure as he could with his fingers on the small capsule. It popped and Peggy screamed wildly for about ten seconds, and then fell to the ground, thrashed about for another ten seconds, then lay perfectly still. He knelt down beside her, and placed his ear on her naked chest. Nothing. Her skin had already developed a slightly blue tone.
Sergeant Houdek stood up. “Well, I’ll be a son-of-a-bitch. She was telling the truth for a change. Her last fuckin’ statement was the truth. Got to be a moral there somewhere.” He quickly turned and trotted for the Huey waiting for him to board. He was the last man on the ground and in charge of blowing the place when they were a few miles away. It had been rigged with heavy incendiaries to burn completely within minutes. White Phosphorous was a bitch.
As Houdek jumped on the chopper, Colonel Boxwood said, “Glad you could finally join us Sergeant. We have a train to catch in Rolla.”
Top Dog’s headquarters in the abandoned mine:
At first, in the outer tunnel, Evelyn Parker was dubious about what the comforts of this place would be. After riding a small rubber-tired train that reminded her of several golf carts hooked together, things began to look better. After passing through a huge steel security door, she found herself in a large room that reminded her of a reception area. A number of people in uniforms sat at desks scattered throughout the room watching closed circuit television sets and computer monitors.
General Parker introduced Evelyn to a female Army Sergeant, and then said, “Please escort my family to our living quarters.” Turning to Evelyn he explained, “I have to go to the control room, hon, but I won’t be long. Then we’ll go get some coffee and I’ll give you the guided tour.”
~~~
The entire place was crawling with people as Parker walked to the main control room. After going through the same security checks that everyone had to pass, General Parker was greeted by the Army Major on duty.
“Good to see you, Sir. Safe trip?”
“Like a walk in the park, Major. Anything important going on?” the General asked.
“No, Sir. Seems whatever is going to happen is taking its time.”
“I doubt it will stay like that for long, unfortunately.”
“Have you heard anything yourself, Sir?”
General Parker frowned. “I’m afraid you know as much as I do. I do need to make a radio contact to see if some of our people are on their way.” He turned and entered the radio room and sat down in front of a computer. After donning the small headset and typing in his password, he asked “Mary, Mary, quite contrary, how does your garden grow?” The signal sent out was scrambled, and then scrambled a second time. He sat eagerly awaiting a reply from Marty.
“Mary’s garden is blooming.”
General Parker removed the headset, typed in the secure “hide message” code, and walked from the room. Marty’s answer meant they had made their first stop in Illinois and were on their way to Missouri. He walked back to the living quarter’s area of the complex, found Evelyn and the girls engaged in conversation with the wife of one of the military men and her children. When he noticed the boy flirting, who was about Melissa’s age, and giving Melissa his very best smile, Parker thought, “Last survivors on Earth.”
Parker noticed Logan and his two daughters were nowhere in sight. Perhaps Logan had taken them to a room in the living quarters to try to explain about their stepmother.
Aboard the “Freedom Train” in Western Illinois:
The satellite radio in the engine crackled to life, and the voice said, “U.N. at S76. Two M54s, four class two APCs, one fifty.”
Marty laid the map out in front of Harry Bonham, the engineer, and asked, “Where is switch 76?”
“Problem there?”
“Yeah, a sm
all Army waiting on us.”
Harry pointed to the spot on the map. “Shit, that’s right on the mainline going through the yards in St. Louis, man.”
“It’ll be daylight when we arrive there. Is there anything this side of St. Louis that could be used to block us?”
“Nothing that this big son of a bitch can’t move out of the way.” Harry grinned proudly like he owned the super-duper engine.
“Okay, tell you what, how about we stop right now and slap a bunch of U.N. flags on this sucker. Who knows it might fool those bad guys for a minute or two.” Marty’s mind was whirling with plans on how to deal with S76.
Harry eased the speed control down to zero, and the train coasted free. When he moved another lever down, the dynamic braking of the huge electric motors could be felt slowing the train. He explained, “Just these few cars we’re draggin’ the motors will bring us to a halt pretty quick. No sense wearing the brakes out. We might need to do some serious braking later before we get to the end of the line.”
Marty spoke into a small walkie-talkie, “Guys, we have a slight problem waiting for us in Saint Louey. We’re gonna decorate this sucker like the U.N. Special. Soon as we’re stopped, get the flags out on the engine and cars. Listen up. We have at least two M54 tanks to take out and several class two APCs. I want half of you on top the cars. We’ll tie two of those big U.N. flags atop two cars, with at least two SS4 launchers under each of them. That gives us four shots at the two tanks. We need at least four men on each of all four cars with SS2s. That’ll give us plenty of firepower to take out the APCs. I want everyone armed with M64s. Might as well pile a few grenade launchers atop each car. Everybody got it? The rest of you, get set with your AR20s inside the cars. We’ll have to hit everything they have fast, and furious, or our asses are fried. All it’ll take is one shot from a tank or APC, and we’re all history, along with all the shit in these cars. So aim straight. Your signal to open fire will be any shot fired at us or a blast of the engine’s horn.” He started to walk away but turned back and said, “Bobby, we need something topside to take out a chopper. Get a half dozen SR3s out of their tubes and ready to fire.”
Thirty minutes later they moved toward S76 at St. Louis . . . at a much reduced speed. If the train was being tracked, they didn’t want to appear in a hurry, not to mention blowing the men off the boxcars. A huge U.N. flag flew on either side of the engine and a flag on both sides of the four boxcars. Of course, if the foreign troops at St. Louis already knew about the hi-jacked train, the flags meant nothing and the shit would really fly.
~~~
Harry began slowing the, Freedom Special to the required speed of ten miles per hour to pass through the rail yards on the south side of St. Louis. He flipped the radio on for dispatch control and turned the volume up so Marty could hear. “St. Louis switching, special trip cargo requesting pass-through. Do we have a clear line to Joplin?”
The speaker stayed silent, so he punched the send button, and repeated his request. “St. Louis switching. Do we have a clear track to Joplin?”
Now, a heavily accented voice answered. “All trains must stop here for the inspection.”
Harry punched the button. “We have orders to run straight through. We cannot use our brakes. A saboteur disabled them in Cincinnati. The best we can do is reverse the motors to stop, but it will burn the brakes out. If we coast to a stop we’ll be well beyond the yards when we finally stop.”
“All trains must stop for inspection! Do you hear me?”
Harry looked at the television screen mounted above the controls and saw a tank parked on the main track, its howitzer aimed directly at them. Two other tanks sat on either side of the track, along with the APCs. “Marty, tell the guys to take out the tank on the track first, then the other tanks, then blow away that large tower to the right that overlooks the yards. That’ll teach the bastard to order me to stop.”
Marty relayed the message to the men, counted to five, and hit the horn.
Immediately, the tank in front of them exploded and was knocked half-way off the tracks. Harry pulled the throttle all the way down, locked it in place, and pointed his AR20 out the small side window. Marty had his weapon aimed out the other side. There were so many weapons firing and explosions going off that neither man had any idea what was happening.
Marty glanced up and saw a large group of U.N. soldiers rushing from behind two trains parked on sidings . . . then they disappeared in fire balls. The men on the train launched everything they had at them. What remained of the U.N. soldiers was going down in a withering hail of gunfire, including Marty and Harry’s. The train slammed into the tank astride the track, and it knocked them both to the floor. Marty’s first thought was the welfare of his troops. Had any of the men been thrown from the tops of the cars?
Marty and Harry scrambled to their feet, and all they heard was steady small arms fire and an occasional explosion from the cars behind . . . then, the only sound was the loud racing of the huge diesel engines. Marty grabbed his radio and yelled, “Gimme a status!”
Immediately each team reported. Marty simply shook his head, and eventually began smiling, then laughing.”
Harry yelled, “What?”
Marty looked back out the side window and yelled, “Hell yeah, that’s the way to do it.” He saw nothing but fire, smoke, and ongoing explosions. Marty looked over at Harry. “We didn’t lose a single man.”
“We need to get the troops off the top of the cars as soon as we clear the city,” Harry commented. “Then we’ll see just how fast this bastard will go. I hope to hell there isn’t anything coming our way.”
~~~
Fifteen minutes later the troop train was in the countryside outside St. Louis on their way to the next pickup point. Harry moved the throttle to neutral and let the huge engine slow on its own as they traveled up a long grade. When the train stopped, he locked the brakes and said, “Man, if I don’t take a piss, I’ll die of euremic poisoning.”
Marty laughed and jumped the steps to the ground. Most of the men had bailed out of the cars and climbed down from the top. Marty yelled, “Get rid of those ugly fuckin’ flags, and put out our colors!”
After the men had relieved themselves, and placed huge American flags on the standards on either side of the engine, they were off again traveling almost at top speed. Forty-five minutes later, Marty punched in a new frequency on his radio. “Tacky Tom, you copy?”
“On the side.”
Marty turned to Harry, “Our next pickup is waiting.” As he spoke, a loud explosion shook the train, and a large plume of smoke, fire, and dirt flew into the air in front of them. Then, they heard the unmistakable sound of shoulder-fired missiles leaving their tubes. Two short seconds later, a huge explosion blasted overhead, and pieces of the attacking Apache rained debris all around the train. As Marty grabbed his radio, Harry slammed the engines to full speed.
Marty yelled, “What the fuck was that?”
Someone answered, “Goddamned Apache.” The voice on the radio laughed loudly and then said, “We wasted four STAs on the stupid bastard.”
“I want everyone on the lookout ready to shoot!”
“Gotcha covered.”
When they arrived at the pickup point, sixty men climbed aboard, armed with their own weapons and provisions. The train sped on southwest toward Oklahoma City . . . the next point of possible trouble. Marty had heard nothing from their five spotters in that area. Once more he changed the radio frequency and spoke. “Mad Dog, Mary‘s garden is growing.”
The answer came back, “Copy Mad Dog.”
The General sat back and smiled after talking to Marty. His family was now safe in the mine and that relieved a lot of stress. His two daughters thought it ‘neat’ to live inside a mountain. His wife had joked about how she thought it would be fun living with more than one man for awhile. The command headquarters was working fine so far. The men on the train were making progress across country and should be pulling in soon. The only
glitch so far had been the traitor found among them, and his heart broke for Logan and his girls.
~ 10 ~
The Presidential Underground in Northern Montana
“Sharon, I know how hard all this is on you, but would you please turn the light off and come to bed? Wearing yourself down to a frazzle will do no good. If you get sick you can’t take care of the kids. They need their mother right now and so do I. You need to stay strong for all of us.” The President leaned an elbow on the large king size pillow and watched his wife pace back and forth.
President Clarence Lawson was elected to office at the young age of thirty-eight, and a more charismatic President had never held office, with possibly the exceptions of Kennedy and Clinton. His philosophy was one of compromise without deserting his principles, and this approach had worked quite well for his short term in office before the asteroid tragedy befell the world. For him it was not only a personal tragedy, but a tragedy for all the plans he had for making things better, not only in his own country, but in the world. Now he didn’t know if he and his family would be alive in less than two weeks. Instead of protecting his wife and children like any man would he felt like he was completely useless sitting in a gopher hole.
Clarence Lawson, five feet, eight inches tall, was an excellent physical specimen. Participating in high school football and track, then football in college, he never lost his love of staying in top physical condition. He stayed fit and trim by working out at least two hours each day in the White House gym and running at least five miles every day as his schedule permitted. All in all, his good looks and excellent physical condition could have been a poster for the “All American Man.”
He felt totally helpless in the face of the impending asteroid collision with Earth. He was the leader of a large nation and couldn’t do one thing to save the millions of citizens. Sighing from the heavy weight on his soul, the President lay back on his pillows and folded his hands behind his blond head. His hazel eyes darkened with worry as he watched his wife pace in her lavender lace nightgown. He knew she was as upset as he was, and he wanted so to calm her. How could he calm a woman who knew her children were facing death?
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