by C A Bird
“Hey, Captain Mitchum. Lay off him, man. He just got here. He doesn’t know the rules.” Ashe turned toward the soldier but carefully stayed in his spot.
“Well, this is the way he’s gonna learn real fucking fast. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your mouth shut, too.” But he didn’t get any closer to the big man.
They faced front as someone addressed their platoon. “All right men, listen up. I’m Major Cartwright and this is Colonel Faricy and his aide Lieutenant Marrs.” The speaker, dressed in fatigues, with the insignia of a major, stood on a wooden box at the front of the formation. He wore a camo baseball cap. Standing beside him were two other men, one a full bird colonel with a chest full of ribbons, and a lieutenant.
“Some of you have been working on other projects and some of you are new, but we have a job that you’ll all be working on for quite some time. As soon as y’all eat breakfast you’re gonna march on over to the campus of the West Virginia State University. It’s on the other side of the Kenawha River. You’ll be staying in one of the dormitories over there while you work on this new job. Colonel Faricy is in charge of the entire project and we need to bring it in on schedule. You should all be very proud to be part of it.” He paused and looked over at the Colonel.
“You will be building the new White House for the President of the United States of America.”
***
“Sir, we’re picking up a message from some ham operator in Georgia. He’s telling people there are government troops in the area, and they’re rounding up people and putting them in FEMA camps. He’s calling on citizens to resist.” The sergeant stood at attention, straight as a rod.
Jeremy Rissman sat in a deep, leather chair that had belonged to the president of the college. The government had taken over the campus as their headquarters after exiting the bunker they had sheltered in during the war.
He came to his feet and pounded his fists on the desk. “He must be silenced! We have enough people resisting our attempts to bring order to the country without these insurrectionists fomenting dissention. General Ladner, see if you can contact Colonel Reisling to find the man and bring him in. If he fights us, he’ll need to be taken down.”
“Yes, Mr. President. But we don’t have a very large presence in Georgia. We don’t want the troops to be at risk. Once the Carolina Campaign is finished, we can send a large contingent further south and wipe out all the dissenters.”
“Send the 1st Southern Elite Company down there, now! Nobody’s going to mess with them. How is the campaign in North Carolina going?”
General Ladner shrugged his massive shoulders. “Of course, we’re hampered by a lack of equipment but we’ve cleared several small mountain towns in the western part of the state. The troops are moving mostly on foot. We have plenty of rifles and ammo but could use more trucks.”
Rissman looked over at the handsome, rugged man sitting on the couch. “How many more trucks do we have, Jordan?”
The former Secretary of the Interior scratched his chin. “We have all the vehicles from the National Guard Armory. The state’s Disaster Preparedness Department was pretty smart. They had electronic parts for the trucks and personnel carriers protected by Faraday cages. That way they didn’t have to try and protect the vehicles themselves. It’s too bad so many of the government personnel were lost, as we only found the repository where the parts were located a couple of months ago. We’ve repaired another dozen troop carriers and a half a dozen jeeps.”
“Can we get those down to Carolina?”
“We’re sending a convoy tomorrow. We’re keeping a few here to augment our border security.”
“It’s imperative we continue to push south and move the workers into our camps. I can’t believe these people would rather eke out a meager existence in the mountains than join us in rebuilding the country and taking care of everyone.” He ran his fingers through his hair. It had gone from a steel gray prior to the war to almost white.
There was a knock on the door and an aide stepped inside the room.
“Mr. President, the Congress has gathered in the auditorium. They’re waiting for you, sir.”
“Let them wait. Jordan, get that equipment fixed ASAP. Have we made any headway toward getting working planes or helicopters?”
“We have a few aircraft mechanics working on it. We haven’t been able to locate the parts for the planes. I’m sure they must have squirreled them away like they did the truck parts, but we’ve been unable to find them. We have men checking every warehouse in the city.”
“Find the plans for the city buildings. They may have underground bunkers or basements.”
Rissman walked toward the door. “Follow me gentlemen, let’s see what the Congress wants.”
They exited the Administration Building and crossed to the Student Center where the auditorium was located. There were a score of men and seven women standing down by the podium and several more sitting in the first row of seats.
Rissman put on his most diplomatic smile, as he moved down the aisle toward the surviving members of the Congress of the United States. The Chinese had attacked during a Congressional recess and most of the almost five hundred members of the House of Representatives were in their home districts around the country. Only two of the persons in the auditorium were representatives, the rest being senators and a member of the President’s cabinet. West Virginia was far enough from ground zero at Washington, D.C. to build bunkers that could withstand the barrage of thermonuclear bombs.
There were three separate shelters, that the President, the Congress, cabinet members and military personnel had evacuated to. Hardwired communication between them, that didn’t rely on radio, enabled them to keep in touch during the war and for the year they remained in the bunkers. Their instruments indicated that it took that long for the radiation to lessen to a level that was safe, due to the tremendous numbers of bombs that had obliterated the entire East Coast. Areas west and south of Washington had been spared due to the mountain ranges and prevailing winds.
When they noticed the President approaching, the group quieted. He walked into their midst, shaking hands and greeting them individually by name as if he were campaigning.
“Gentlemen, ladies. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?”
“Cut the crap, Rissman,” Henry Simms told him. “What the hell is going on in Carolina? We’ve heard reports of free people being rounded up and brought here against their will.”
Rissman’s face darkened. “Senator Simms, don’t take that tone with me. You are speaking to the President of the United States. I insist you show me respect.” He waved toward the seats. “Shall we be seated and discuss this rationally?”
They shuffled around and took seats. General Ladner grabbed a chair from the side of the room so the President could face the Congress.
“To answer your question, Henry, yes… we are rounding up citizens and bringing them here to protect and care for them. In many cases they’re very happy to come. They are fed, clothed and housed. Most of them were close to starvation. Do you have a problem with that?”
One of the women, Representative Claire Burnham, said, “I don’t have any problem with that, Mr. President. We’ve known for years that many people would be unprepared to survive even an economic collapse, not to mention a nuclear war. That’s the reason we prepared the camps in advance. I think Henry’s concern is for the people that prepared for these tragedies and do not want to come to West Virginia.” She looked over at Simms and found him staring at her through his thick, horn-rimmed glasses, nodding vigorously.
“Ms. Burnham, why do you think Executive Order 12919 and the others were passed? They make all emergency food and supplies, communications, livestock and weapons, the property of the government. Those supplies can be used to provide equally for all the people. In times of emergency, and I think we can all agree this qualifies, it is legal to confiscate those items, and to have men and women rounded up to work for the gove
rnment to rebuild the country’s infrastructure.” He turned, stared at her and stressed, “Again, we have every legal right to confiscate stocked foods, animals, guns, etc. in order to save everyone’s lives, not just a few.” He stood up and paced before them as if giving a lecture to school children.
“This war was terrible. But we have a chance to start over, to take care of everyone equally. No more poor people… or income inequality. We will disarm the citizenry so we don’t have these dissidents destroying the good things we’re trying to accomplish. The United States will rise again as a great nation, with all her people being taken care of.”
The senators exchanged glances. Representative Burnham said, “Yes, Mr. President. But we’ve heard that people are being kidnapped from their homes. We still have a constitution, sir. What about freedom?”
“Freedom is overrated. Is it better to have freedom, and starve, or work with others to rebuild our great nation? They get three meals a day, which is more than they had on their own.”
Rissman waved his hand at General Ladner. “Using Executive order 13603, I’ve had to declare Martial Law. In order to save the country we need to bring everyone into the fold. At some time in the future we may allow people to return to their homes. But until…”
“Mr. President,” several of the Congressmen said at the same moment. Chad Garrett, the senior senator from Texas spoke over the others, “With all due respect, sir, that’s what every dictator has said since the beginning of time. This isn’t right. It seems more like a police state.”
At the sound of rounds being chambered, he and the others looked up at the entry to the auditorium. Soldiers entered the room and moved down the aisles, their rifles covering the senators. “What’s going on here?” Garrett said, with eyes wide.
“There are two choices, ladies and gentlemen. You will continue in your roles as advisors to the President and help me save this country, or you can join the work crews outside. What’s it going to be?”
6
Once the dust had finally settled after the war, the nighttime skies were spectacular. It was mid-May, and at four o’clock in the morning Vega gleamed overhead in the constellation Lyra and the Milky Way blazed across the void. The chill was greatest at that time of the morning and Matthew wore a sheepskin-lined jacket and gloves over his normal attire. He told Skillet the night before it wouldn’t be necessary for him to get up and fix coffee but as Matthew walked to the smoldering campfire, a steaming cup was thrust into his hands.
“Thank you,” he said in hushed tones, his breath visible in the morning air. “Seen Einstein?”
“He’s out talking to Mike on the eastside. Want something to eat?”
“No, I’ll eat some jerky. I need to head out.” He patted Skillet on the back in silent thanks and went back to the already saddled Appaloosa. Swinging into the saddle he rode east to where Einstein waited for him.
“Hey Matthew, you ready?”
Matthew nodded at Mike, 180 pounds of lean muscle, with hazel eyes and thinning, brown hair, and answered Einstein’s question, “Yes. I’ll cover the west flank, you go east. I’m going to leave Chief a mile out and go the rest of the way on foot. If you see anyone trying to sneak up on our guys, don’t engage them. Just ride back and warn Terry they’re coming. Agreed?”
“Yeah, I’m not anxious to fight. You too?”
“Agreed.”
He stuck his empty cup into a saddlebag and the men rode out, Einstein disappearing behind some rocks as he rode east. By dawn Matthew was riding into the outskirts of Raton. He dismounted, leaving the reins hanging; the signal to the horse to remain where he was. They were in the bottom of an arroyo where Chief was invisible to anyone who chanced to look their way from the freeway.
Matthew pulled a sniper rifle from the scabbard, a beautiful weapon he’d found in Taos when he spent the previous summer there, trying to decide whether he would join with the shelter people. He had searched a gorgeous hacienda, perched on a knoll overlooking the town, and found a large cache of collector’s weapons. The rifle was a Heckler and Koch PSG1. Considering the import ban on this type of rifle, and a cost of $15,000, he guessed the rifle had been purchased illegally.
Slinging the rifle across his back, and carrying a small backpack, he moved forward on foot, gliding noiselessly from bushes to rock piles, and crawling carefully over small rises. The pack contained NATO 7.62mm x 51mm ammo for the rifle and a 50 round box of .45 caliber for his pistol. He had an ample supply of jerky and a liter of water. When he could see the end of the chain link fence jutting out into the desert he settled down to wait behind a small pile of rocks.
He had sent Einstein to the east knowing that when the sun rose it would be difficult to see on this side of town. He was looking almost directly into the sun when he swept the plain ahead of him with his binoculars. As the sun moved higher, and visibility increased, he saw several armed men behind the fence on his side of the freeway about 200 yards away. They seemed relaxed.
He set the bipod of the sniper rifle on the rock in front of him and covered the black hair on his head with a desert camo scarf. The rifle’s original telescopic scope had been replaced with a Hensoldt ZF6x42PSG1. He scanned the men along the fence through the lighted reticle. Although Matthew had often practiced marksmanship at his grandfather’s ranch while growing up as a boy he had never before used such a precision rifle. He knew that much of that precision was wasted since few people maintained any kind of efficiency without continued practice. Still, even if he achieved 1 to 3 minutes of angle he knew he would be more accurate with the sniper rifle than with his AR-15.
Matthew heard the Jeep in the distance.
***
Leaving the Jeep a quarter of a mile from the fence, Terry moved along the median toward the barrier across Interstate 25 just south of Raton. There were cracks in the concrete and weeds strained through into the light of day. The median was overgrown with brush and he tried to stay hidden so he could see how many were at the fence before breaking cover. Izzy and Cody were hidden behind the Jeep with long-range rifles, but they stayed down, so as not to be seen as aggressors by the men at the barrier. Terry couldn’t see Matthew or Einstein but he knew they were protecting his flank. When approximately fifty yards from the barrier, he left the median, his hands in the air, and stopped in the middle of the fast lane of the freeway.
“Hello. Hello, I just want to talk,” he yelled as he continued to wave his arms, hoping they would realize his intentions were friendly. He saw movement behind the barrier and after a few minutes a large gate in the chain link opened and three men walked through. Unlike him, all three men were armed with hunting rifles. Sweat broke out on his forehead and he suddenly wanted to run, but he held his ground, realizing he would be shot in the back before he had made five yards.
“You need to get the hell out of here!” one of the men yelled. “We’re not taking in any strangers.”
“Hey man, I just want to talk for a minute, okay?” Terry took a step forward and saw several men behind the fence raise their rifles and point them directly at him. “Whoa, I’m not armed. I just want to talk.”
“What part of, get the hell out of here, don’t you understand?”
“I’m Terry Holcomb. I live in Raton. I have a house and a business there. I just want to talk. I’m not just some stranger and I think I can help you guys.” He waited anxiously as he saw the three men conversing. He let out the breath he’d been holding when one of them raised his hand and beckoned to Terry. More scared than ever, He walked forward, trying to appear nonchalant.
***
A half second can mean the difference between peace and war. Matthew was watching the men behind the fence and when Terry began to approach the barrier one of the men raised his rifle, pointing it directly at him. Matthew tensed. He looked through the scope, at 42x magnification the man appeared to be just in front of him, close enough to see the man’s finger was on the trigger. Matthew’s own finger was on the trigger of the
Koch and Heckler. He took a deep breath, let it out and froze as his trigger finger began to squeeze. A half second before he completed the shot, the stranger in front of him raised his rifle and took a step back on the trailer. Matthew released the trigger and put his finger outside the trigger guard along the receiver of the weapon. Usually fairly calm, Matthew felt the adrenaline racing through his blood and shuddered to think he had almost taken a life unnecessarily. He watched as Terry and the three men passed through the gate in the chain-link fence. Backing away from the rock, he turned and sat in the sand, pulling the scarf off the top of his head and sitting quietly to allow his heart rate to slow down. He gulped in several deep breaths, and regaining control, again took up his position.
Over fifteen minutes had passed, when the gate reopened and Terry walked through to wave at the Jeep, beckoning Izzy and Cody forward. He also gave a subtle signal that told Einstein and Matthew that all was well and they could stand down. Matthew waited, as the Jeep approached the gate and stopped 10 yards in front of the barrier. The gate was swung wide open and three men pushed the trailer aside to provide an opening for Izzy to drive through. Once the Jeep had passed beyond the fence, Matthew pulled the sniper rifle off the rock and closed down the bipod. He gathered his belongings, slung the rifle onto his back, and retraced his path to the Arroyo where Chief awaited, having never moved.
“You’re a damn good horse, Chief,” he said to him, rubbing Chief’s favorite spot between his ears. Stowing his gear he mounted the Appaloosa and headed back to camp.
***
The Holcombs and John Perry rode back to town in the Jeep, John raving the whole way about how great it was to be flying down the freeway at 70 mph.
