Collapse (New America)

by Richard Stephenson

  "Governor Prince, I am doing my job, if you would kindly calm down and let me speak."

  The president silenced the governor with only a glance.

  "The Silent Warriors have never once coordinated multiple attacks. The Thanksgiving Day Massacre happened in several cities, but it was still one attack. They have also never hit a military or political target. They always focus on attacking the public to get people angry at us."

  Secretary of Defense Decker quickly interjected. "That's true, but why did they change tactics? What does it mean?"

  "I don't know, but with the majority of our resources looking within our own borders, I have a feeling we need to take a look at what the Empire is doing in theirs."

  The president addressed the military personnel in the room. "Generals, Admiral, do you see anything out of the ordinary in terms of troop deployment? Are they preparing to invade Europe?"

  The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs answered the question. "Mr. President, that is not likely; we have no doubt that they are planning an invasion, but our best estimates put that twelve months out at best."

  "Could that estimate be wrong?" Secretary Laferriere asked.

  "Right or wrong, the question doesn't matter," Director Jimenez interrupted. "This diversionary tactic will buy them twelve to sixteen hours to accomplish something under the radar. Invading Europe will be no more a secret than Normandy was eighty-three years ago. That's not what this is."

  Everyone looked at the president, who had a Ph.D in American History. "Normandy was certainly not a secret; it was the largest military invasion in the history of the world at the time. The Allies did, however, create many diversions and spread misinformation so the Nazis would think the invasion would be launched at a different location. I agree with Director Jimenez; the Empire probably thought they would have a short window to quickly sneak something past us. The question is what."

  Admiral Mack stepped forward. "Computer, give me a status report on the Port of Gibraltar."

  "I'm sorry, Admiral Mack, you don’t have access to my system. Presidential authorization is required."

  "Computer, grant full temporary access to everyone in this room with the exception of the Secret Service Agents, and grant Admiral Mack's request immediately."

  "Yes, Mr. President." The map of the Iranian Theater zoomed in on the Port of Gibraltar. "The James Russell is operating at sixty-two percent efficiency. The flight deck will be operational in fourteen hours. Allied Forces in Spain have redeployed and have secured the north and south sides of Gibraltar. They are holding the line from Tetouan to the Atlantic Coast. Iranian forces to the south of the line have shown no signs of advance towards the port."

  "What?" Admiral Mack inquired. "I was certain this had something to do with Gibraltar. Computer, what is the status of the Iranian fleet in the Mediterranean?"

  "The Iranian fleet has shown no signs of movement in the last twenty-four hours."

  Admiral Mack looked defeated. "Maybe we are on a wild goose chase here. Another attack might be coming for us here at home."

  "I'm sure that the agencies represented in this room are working diligently to prevent that from happening. I agree with Director Jimenez; this is a diversion." FBI Director Warren Gill studied the map intently.

  "Thank you, Warren." Roberto Jimenez even sounded like a grouch when he was expressing gratitude.

  General Weygandt addressed the White House A.I. "Computer, display the five enemy bunkers and give a status report on each."

  Secretary of Defense Decker spoke up. "Computer, standby on the status report. General, I know what you’re thinking and let me address your concern. All five bunkers are under constant surveillance. We can read the license plates of any vehicles coming or going from any of the facilities. If we detect a spike in radiation we know there’s a chance they’re attempting to move one of their nukes. If they open the launch doors at any of the facilities, we know immediately. If either of those things happens, we can strike immediately and destroy anything topside of the bunker."

  "Thank you, Mr. Secretary. I figured you would have a watchful eye over the bunkers. Computer, continue with status report."

  "Bunkers 1 and 2 have had no significant movement in the last twenty-four hours. Radiation levels remain normal. Bunkers 3 and 4 were resupplied by armored vehicles."

  "Wait. Computer, standby. Why do we let them resupply their bunkers?" Governor Prince asked.

  "They have a series of underground roads that lead to the bunkers. The entrance to the tunnels is always in a populated city, usually next to a hospital or a school." Secretary Decker replied with disdain.

  "Bastards. Why do we still follow the Geneva Convention again? They seem to be doing just fine without it," Governor Prince replied. “Computer, continue with the status report."

  "Radiation levels at Bunker 5 have not increased in the last twenty-four hours."

  "That's it? What about movement at Bunker 5?" Governor Prince asked.

  "We don't know. Six months out of the year the weather blocks out the bunker from our satellites. If we're lucky, we get a clear day or two a few times during the blackout. All we can do is monitor the radiation levels. It's exactly why they chose the location." Director Jimenez didn’t like secrets being kept from him.

  The president had been listening intently to everything, taking it all in and thinking. "Roberto, I'm starting to suspect this has something to do with Bunker 5. It's the only thing that it could be. They aren't moving towards Gibraltar, and we can see anything that goes on at the other four bunkers."

  "Mr. President, I'm inclined to agree with you. However, beyond the radiation levels, we can't tell what is going on. Any drones we send near the bunker get shot down before they can see anything."

  "What would happen if they tried to move a nuke out of the bunker?"

  "We would know it the instant it came to the surface. We could target and destroy it before they loaded it onto a vehicle," Jimenez explained with complete confidence.

  "That's good to know.” Governor Prince smiled at Director Jimenez for the first time.

  "Governor, I'm glad you appr... Wait! Something is happening. That can't be right! Computer, confirm the radiation levels at Bunker 5."

  "Radiation levels have increased by six hundred nineteen percent."

  "God no! They're launching a nuke!" Stacy Reid was covering her mouth in surprise.

  "Relax, ma'am. That's not what's happening; something else is wrong." Roberto had lifted his hands to manipulate the map on the screen to overlay a detailed weather map of the region.

  "Did someone detonate a nuke and try to take out the facility? I didn't authorize a launch, and the leaders of the Allied Forces must unanimously approve a nuclear strike launched from Europe!" President Powers was angry but maintained his composure.

  Jimenez cleared his throat. “Mr. President, a nuclear detonation has not occurred. If it had, we would see the flash and the cloud cover would be pushed away. If they were moving a nuke, it would show up as a small pocket of radiation, one that we could target. The radiation levels have spiked over a ten-mile radius around the bunker and we are completely blind. The weather system is continuing to spread the radiation even further. Radiation levels continue to rise. Before the sun sets on the Empire, the radioactive cloud will reach the Indian Ocean."

  "Who did it?" General Moody asked.

  "The Empire is responsible," Jimenez said very slowly.

  "What? A rebellion? Who's trying to take over?" Secretary Laferriere practically screamed.

  A look of sad realization dawned on the president’s face. "Admiral Mack, I want the Enterprise and the George Washington to move into the Indian Ocean and join the Fifth Fleet with all due haste. The Empire is smuggling a warhead out of Bunker 5 in order to launch a nuclear strike on the United States. We have to set up a blockade to ensure that they do not succeed."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Howard Beck was tap
ping his fingers on the kitchen counter and continually shaking his head back and forth. He was muttering curse words at the image on the wall across from him. Hal was tracking a convoy of twelve Humvees slowly moving down the road that passed in front of the estate. Howard was concentrating on the lead vehicle so hard that he was convinced that if he thought a little harder, he could control the Humvee with his mind. He wanted nothing more in the world than for all twelve of the Humvees to zip on past the front gate and never return.

  "Hal, how long before they get here?"

  "Less than a minute, sir."

  "Is the front gate secure?"

  "Of course it is, sir."

  "Shit!"

  "Sir, what would you like me to do if they stop at that gate?"

  "I don't want you to say a thing. Hopefully they will give up and go away."

  "Yes, sir."

  Howard looked at the monitor and could see the Humvees slowing down to stop at the gate.

  "Son of a bitch! Go away!" No!"

  A man stepped out of the lead vehicle and began pacing back and forth in front of the massive iron gate.”

  "No one's home! Go away!" Howard screamed at the image on the wall.

  The man stopped pacing long enough to rattle the gate, then began frantically waving his arms towards the house.”

  "Leave me alone! I'm not opening the gate!" Howard's face reddened as he began kicking the floor. Howard hoped that the man waving his arms would not locate the intercom button and try to talk to him. He stared at the monitor and watched as a large group of soldiers began to congregate behind their leader. A few of the soldiers picked up rocks and threw them over the fence towards the house.

  "Stop doing that! I'm not letting you in! Go away!" Howard was so upset and scared that he started to cry.

  "Excuse me, sir," said Hal.

  "What?" screamed Howard.

  "Sir, the man waving his arms is the commanding officer. The men behind him are talking about a wounded man who is going to die if he doesn't do something now."

  Howard relaxed a little. "You mean they aren't trying to break in and hurt me?"

  "No, sir, they are seeking medical attention."

  Howard took a deep breath and sat down. "Uh.. ok, ok. This is what I want you to do, Old Man. I want you to talk to them on the intercom and see what the problem is. See if they can go somewhere else."

  "Sir, you want me to talk to them?"

  "Yes I do, Hal. I'm too shaken up."

  "Yes, sir. It will not be a problem. Would you like for me to put them on speaker?"

  "Please."

  "Very good, sir."

  Hal turned on the speaker in the kitchen so Howard could hear the company of soldiers outside his main gate. The intercom crackled, and you could see the heads of the soldiers perk up and turn towards it.

  "May I help you, gentlemen?" Hal asked in his proper British voice.

  "Thank God! Yes!" The man that had been waving his arms walked over to the intercom. "My name is Captain Jackson Butler, and we are in desperate need of assistance. We have an emergency situation on our hands. We retreated from Denver, and one of my men was shot as we left the city. We have managed to stop the bleeding but I'm afraid he’ll die soon if we don't get him to a hospital."

  "Captain Butler, my name is Hal. Are you aware that this is not a hospital?"

  "Yes, sir, I am aware of that."

  "If you continue on this road and take a left at the next intersection, a hospital is in the town thirty-three miles down the road."

  "Sir, please. We do not have that kind of time. I have a medic with me who is ready to perform surgery, but we could do it safely in a clean, sterile environment. My man is weak enough as it is; if the surgery doesn't kill him, infection will most certainly finish him off. Please! Let us in so we can save this man's life!"

  "Captain Butler, are you familiar with the Third Amendment to the Constitution that states that a soldier cannot quarter in a private citizen's home during times of war unless by order of law? I do not believe a law has been passed granting you the right to enter my home."

  "Sir, please! We are not hostile and we aren’t trying to take your home from you. We just need to help our man, and we will be on our way. Open the gate!"

  "Please wait for a moment, Captain."

  "Thank you, sir. Please, I give you my word, we mean you no harm."

  Howard was watching the entire thing and was torn by indecision. The thought of armed soldiers on his compound, friendly or enemy, terrified him. On the other hand, he couldn’t live with himself if he allowed a member of the armed services to die outside his gate when he had the chance to help.

  "Hal?"

  "I'm here, sir."

  "They really got a wounded man out there?"

  "Sir, I have not seen a wounded man. Three of the soldiers at the gate had a great deal of blood on them. They did not have any apparent injuries, so the logical conclusion is that the blood does not belong to them."

  "OK, this is what I want you to do. Tell Captain Butler that he and his men can come in. They can drive around behind the main residence and use the guest house. Instruct them that they are not to approach the main residence. I insist that they respect this condition."

  "I will relay your decision, sir."

  Captain Butler was pacing back and forth. The intercom crackled, and he listened as the British man spoke.

  "Captain Butler, I have decided to let you and your men though the gate. I want you to follow the drive back behind the main residence and use the guest house. It should be adequate for your needs. I will grant you access on one condition."

  "Anything! Name it!"

  "At no time are you or your men to approach the main residence."

  "Hal, you have my solemn word. Thank you."

  Howard watched the image of the convoy entering his property. He didn’t like it at all. The thought of dozens of dirty, rough and tough soldiers on his property tearing things up almost made Howard have a panic attack. Meredith had always nagged him about being a better host. Guests should be welcomed with open arms and made comfortable. Howard scoffed and just let his wife be the proper host while he pretended to be busy and disappeared to another room in the house. People are stupid. People are rude. People just don't make sense. If Howard did not hold a close, intimate relationship with someone, he'd rather not be around them. People were unpredictable and just plain got on his nerves.

  "Sir, they are moving the injured man into the guest house. He appears to be unconscious and his abdomen is covered in blood."

  "Can you tell anything more, Hal?"

  "No, sir. If he were moved to your lab I could run a detailed scan on him."

  "Let's hold off on that for now. Maybe they can get him patched up."

  "Yes, sir, would you like to see the progress on the main screen?"

  "Yes, please." Howard looked at the wall opposite him and could see the men working desperately to save the wounded soldier's life. Captain Butler was shouting orders to his men.

  "OK, clear this area out and lay him on the kitchen table. Doc, what do you need?"

  Staff Sergeant Willis, the company medic, didn’t take his eyes off the wounded soldier. "Sir, let me check my bag. I think I have everything I need; I'll let you know."

  "Anything we can do in the meantime?"

  The company medic checked the injured man's dog tag. "His blood type is A negative. I need anyone with that blood type or type O to get ready to donate blood."

  "You got it, Doc. Listen up!! If your blood type is A negative or type O get your ass over here, now!"

  "Captain, I don't know my blood type," a young private said from the back of the room.

  "Check your dog tags, jackass!" another private yelled.

  The ones who had forgotten their blood type checked their dog tag. Less than a minute later, only one soldier stepped forward.

  "OK, Doc. We got one. I can donate
as well. What else do you need?"

  "Someone needs to locate the biggest pot they can find and start boiling water. I need towels and bed sheets."

  "I'm on it!" A sergeant looked at one of his team members and they started working.

  "Shit! I was afraid of this!"

  "What's wrong, Doc?"

  "I can get the bullet out, but it tore his small intestine. I'm going to need to stitch it up."

  "Are you sure?"