by C A Bird
Carla walked into the room. “We’ll be eating dinner in a couple hours.”
“We need to talk to them before then,” Matthew said.
Doug nodded. “I’ll go tell Jack to get the council together and we can meet here as soon as possible.”
“That’s good,” Matthew said. “Hopefully, Mark can find out what they’re planning. I’m going to catch a nap and go back after we talk to the Council. He looked free when I saw him. I hope nothing’s changed and he can come back with me.”
***
Tables were loaded with food, as the Navy wanted to impress the Air Force with the fact that they had plenty of food, even if the general’s men had prevented the morning delivery of supplies.
Earlier, before General Packer had arrived with Whittinghall and a dozen airmen, the two squads of Navy men that were sent to get supplies had returned and informed the captain that they had been sent back to Harvest without any of the provisions they had spent the morning procuring.
“I don’t know what the hell Packer is trying pull, but we’ve had nothing but a cordial relationship before this.” He raised his cap and reseated it on his head in a gesture Mark had gotten used to.
“I hope it isn’t because I pissed off the president,” Mark told him. “I wonder if he’s received orders from Rissman about Lompoc. They’ve been worried that the military was going to try and take them over.”
“What would they want from them?”
“The folks in town have well-established gardens and the Vandenberg crew has to be tired of canned and dehydrated rations. I think General Packer has delusions of grandeur about taking over California, and maybe even the entire West Coast for the president.”
“Well, it’s not delusional if the president is backing him.”
Richard and Mark had been shocked when Packer brought an entire squad of airmen to the platform. Before, he had only been accompanied by the lieutenant colonel and maybe one or two others. There were usually around twenty or so Navy personnel aboard the platform at any one time, but since the captain had ordered the sub readied for action, they had even fewer men.
Mark had counted eleven Air Force personnel. They were outnumbered by three guys.
Packer’s enlistees were eating in a room off the communications area, and the four officers and Mark were in a makeshift dining room by the former Chief Engineer’s office where Dombrowski made his headquarters.
During the meal they had engaged in small talk, and Mark was frustrated that he hadn’t learned anything of substance. He talked about the trip west but carefully left out any mention of specific locations.
“Thank you for your hospitality Captain Dombrowski,” General Packer said, as he took his last bite of fresh Grouper. “My officers and men are grateful to have some variety in their meal. I thought that since we would be here for the president’s call at 1700, it would be a perfect opportunity to have a meal together and plan for future missions.”
“Yes, the president mentioned that you had been discussing the handling of dissidents. What exactly are you planning?”
“Well, of course, the president will fill you in and let you know what he has in mind for the rebuilding effort, but I am not at liberty to speak while Mr. Teller is present. If I could talk to you in private, Captain? With just our senior officers.”
Dombrowski started to speak, but Mark held up his hand. “It’s alright Richard. He’s right, I’m a civilian and don’t need to be part of your discussions. I’ll be in my room until 1700. I believe the president wanted to talk with me again as well, so I’ll meet you then, in the radio room.”
Nodding at Commander Crane and Lieutenant Colonel Wittinghall, he left the room and went down one level to his quarters. He only had thirty minutes, and he stretched out on his bunk, thinking about making the trip back to New Mexico.
But it wasn’t time to make that trip yet. He needed to know what the president and his people were up to.
***
“I’m glad you all could come.” Matthew disliked talking in front of a group, but he was the one with the most information. He had slept for an hour until Doug had gathered the council together. “I spent last night and today on the base trying to get some intel. The military is using the southwestern portion of the base. I didn’t see anyone around the main gate or to the north of the airfield but it’s a large base and there could be others.”
“That makes sense,” Brenden said. “That’s the old Command Center, and they have some barracks there. It’s only a couple miles from the airfield one direction and the Vandenberg docks in the other.”
“Yeah, they could fish for food, and they could grow crops in the fertile area around the airfield,” Jack added.
Matthew shook his head. “They aren’t interested in growing crops. I’m sure they don’t think that’s a soldier’s job. I believe they want you folks to provide what they need, and they are preparing for action. Your town is in danger.”
“Why don’t we, the Council, have a meeting with the Commander of the base and make a deal to have them buy what they need. Our fields are producing more than we can eat. We could barter with them.”
“They aren’t interested in bartering, either. Throughout history, the militaries of various countries, unless constrained by a constitution or a strong government, have only been interested in power. Power over the people. You need to call a town meeting and find out what kind of firepower you possess and how much ammo you have.”
“We can’t fight the Air Force!” Conners said, his eyes big as saucers. “They’ll slaughter us.”
“You will probably not be given a choice. It’s fight or be enslaved. You greatly outnumber them.”
“Yeah, but with California’s gun laws we don’t have any weapons that match up to their firepower. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. I mean, if they guarantee that we and our families will be safe.”
Matthew couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He shook his head, his black ponytail whipping back in forth in his agitation. “I guess that’s up to the townspeople. If you vote to roll over and be serfs, it’s your choice. Or you can fight for freedom. Now’s the time to decide.” He stood up. “I believe they may move before morning, so it’s now or never, folks. I suggest you call a meeting for tonight and find out what your people want to do.”
***
The president’s call came through right on time.
“Mr. President, good evening.”
“Hello, Captain Dombrowski. Who’s with you?”
“We have General Packer, Lieutenant Colonel Whittinghall, Commander Crane and Mark Teller, sir.”
“Very good. I see you’ve been informed of General Packer’s and Lieutenant Colonel Whittinghall’s promotions. It may seem strange to you that we’re so far away, but still in control from coast to coast, but I assure you it’s only a matter of time until that control is more secure. After all, back in the mid-eighteen hundreds the president presided over a country that spanned the continent. There was still representative government of all the states, including California, that became a state in 1850. We will reestablish the continental railroad. We have more vehicles working every day and have just found a cache of aircraft parts that weren’t damaged by the EMPs.”
“That’s great news, Mr. President. It sounds like you are making great strides.”
“We are. So Mark, I wanted to apologize if I sounded impatient with you. I am anxious to get the country back where it needs to be. We have thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of people throughout the country that are starving to death and we need to reach out to them and save them. Have you given my proposal some thought?”
“I have, sir. I realize now that my home in California is uninhabitable. I need to get my family relocated and then can give serious consideration to moving back east and helping with the rebuilding. But I have some questions, sir.”
“Yes?” Rissman asked coldly. It was a warning to Mark but it was too late to turn back.
“I was wondering, Mr. President, what role the Congress is going to play?”
“I told you some of the members of Congress have survived, and are here supporting me.”
“Yes, sir. But will there still be three branches of government? Did any members of the Supreme Court survive? Are you going to govern using the Constitution, sir? Will we still have the balance of power?”
“Where will you be relocating your family to, Mark?” That took Mark off guard.
“Uh, well, I’m not sure, Mr. President. I’ve only found out I can’t live here anymore so I haven’t given it much thought.”
“Oh come on, Mark. You said you came from New Mexico. Which part?”
“I haven’t decided yet, sir.”
There was dead time on the call until Mark started to sweat.
Finally Rissman said, “Captain Dombrowski, we have reorganized the military structure in Charleston. General Charles Ladner is the Chief of Staff and Supreme Commander of the Military forces. Generals Spencer, Martinez, Thatcher and Packer all report to him directly. You are all that’s left of the Navy, as all the Naval Ports were along the coasts and took direct hits. We, of course, will begin rebuilding the Navy as soon as we can determine which coastal areas are safe. Until then, you will report to General Packer.”
Dombrowski pulled himself up taller than his six-foot-three and, with a blank stare, said, “Yes, Mr. President. If I may, sir. I’d like to recheck the West Coast for other Navy personnel. I believe the Chinese threat has been completely eliminated, so I would also like permission to travel to the East Coast by way of the North Passage above Canada, before summer ends, to check out the Atlantic Naval bases, as well. I believe a strong Navy is vital to the interests of this country, sir. China was not the only threat. If any bases have escaped destruction, we need to know it.
“I agree with you that there may be other threats, but we haven’t picked up any additional chatter from around the globe that hints at any imminent danger. The radio signals are better every day now and we feel confident we can detect any problems. I feel strongly that you need to stay on the West Coast.”
“But, sir…”
“Enough Captain. You can discuss these issues with your new Commanding Officer.”
“Yes… Mr. President.”
“And now, Captain, I have a new mission for you. Colonel Packer, please brief the Captain on the revolution.”
“Revolution?” Mark asked.
Packer stood with his hands behind his back and bounced on his toes. “We have been sending our recon plane to various points within California, along the coast and inland. We’ve been mapping areas of radiation and looking for signs of civilization, or even small groups of survivors. We have found that the only survivors are inland.”
He paused for effect, and then continued, “Two weeks ago, the plane was overdue, and we thought we’d lost her. It returned last week. It had landed in Redding, in Northern California, and was attacked by a group of militants. They were held down by gunfire but managed to take a prisoner. She was interrogated, and broken fairly easily by the pilot, First Lieutenant Halpern. In order to escape, they sent her back across the field and taxiing past her, they took off while the opposing force was afraid to fire for fear of hitting her. They took a couple of hits but made it back.”
“Tell them what he reported, General,” Rissman said with relish.
Just as Mark was ready to kill him, Packer stopped bouncing. “He reported that there is a huge number of people in Northern California, eastern Oregon and Washington, and in Idaho and Utah that are banding together to form their own nation. Their motto is Molon Labe. In Greek it means, ‘come and take it,’ referring to their weapons. They are outright defying us and risking all-out war.”
“How do they even know the government still exists?” Mark asked. “Maybe they’re just trying to survive. We need to contact them and let them know. Give them a chance to join.”
“They have short wave radios they are using to communicate with each other, and with people in Atlanta, who are also talking revolution. They’re probably even talking to your people in New Mexico,” Packer said, as he glared at Mark.
Mark thought that his folks weren’t in touch with anyone, until he realized he’d been gone for almost three months. The ionosphere was only now settling down to allow radio communication. The New Mexico Colony could very well be in touch with others at this time.
“So, Captain Dombrowski, here is your next mission. In order to allow the duly elected government of the United States to rule effectively and without interference, and for the good of the American people, you are to fire a Trident missile at a point central to this rogue nation, using a MERV to strike six targets at once. The coordinates will be sent to you after this call.”
Dombrowski looked stricken. “But, Mr. President, these are Americans.”
“You will follow my orders Captain Dombrowski! You will hit these targets at 0600 tomorrow morning, Pacific Time. And that’s not all. You will hit Atlanta with a single nuclear warhead. That’s where the dissidents in the south are concentrated.”
Mark yelled into the mike, “This is insane, Rissman! You can’t expect him to nuke Americans. Are you completely out of your mind? You…”
“General Packer, take Mark Teller into custody this minute,” the president yelled into the mike.
Packer stepped toward Mark, and Mark took a swing, connecting with the General’s cheek and nose, as he danced back, trying to escape the blow. Whittinghall grabbed Mark’s arms behind his back, and Packer aimed a vicious blow to Mark’s abdomen. He bent over and went to his knees, as Packer wiped away blood that gushed from his nose and dripped onto his spotless uniform.
“Sergeant Abramson, bring in your men and secure this prisoner.”
Three armed airmen rushed into the communications room, two of them grabbing Mark’s arms and hauling him to his feet, and one was watching Captain Dombrowski. The captain was frozen in place, trying to assimilate these new developments.
“And one more target, Captain Dombrowski,” Rissman continued relentlessly, “a direct hit over Eagle Nest, New Mexico. It’s the location of Will Hargraves’ shelter and the probable location of the dissidents associated with Mark Teller.”
“Noooo. You can’t… you can’t do that!”
Mark struggled against the men holding his arms. Pleading with Dombrowski, he begged, “Please Richard, listen to reason! This is…”
A solid blow across his left eyebrow, opened a cut above his eye and dazed him momentarily. Blood ran into his eye. Unable to wipe it away, he looked wildly at the captain.
“Dombrowski!” He tried to shrug off his captors as he struggled forward. They held him firmly and jerked him toward the door. “Richard. You know what you have to do!” For just a second the struggle ceased and Mark shook his head to clear his vision. “You know what you have to do.”
The captain turned and looked over at him. Mark’s eyes met Dombrowski’s and he saw something flicker there.
Then the moment was gone, as one of the airmen struck him in the ribs, knocking his breath out. The general yelled, “Get him out of here,” and the men grasping Mark’s arms pulled him out onto the platform. They dragged him roughly down the stairs to the dock beneath the mammoth structure, Mark struggling frantically the entire way.
They can’t do this. Oh God, no. Chris!
He considered trying to jump into the ocean. He was fairly certain he could dive deep enough to avoid gunfire and to elude capture, but it was seven miles of open water to the shore. He had done a few triathlons and knew he could swim a mile or maybe two, but he’d never make it seven miles. They shoved him onto the boat, pushing him into the cabin and had two men training their assault rifles at him. They were too far away for him to jump them. An hour later he heard Packer’s voice telling the crew to shove off and felt the motion of the boat as it accelerated toward shore. He would have given anything to hear the conversation Packer and Dombrowski
must have had in that hour.
He sat in the dark, frantically trying to think of a way to escape, but he was almost numb with fear. The sound of the motor slowing down brought him back around, just as one of the guards yelled at him to put his hands on his head and come up out of the cabin. He came on board and they pushed him onto the dock.
“Take him to the barracks and lock him up.” Packer’s jaw and nose were swollen where Mark had struck him, and Mark knew Packer would have him executed as soon as the missiles flew in the morning.
Packer would make him watch as the missiles flew toward his home.
36
Lack of sleep was never a problem for Matthew. He had a knack for falling instantly to sleep whenever he wanted, and waking up refreshed and alert. He had learned to do it while living on his grandfather’s ranch as a kid. He loved camping out in the wilderness, survival style, making his own shelter, catching or gathering his own food and making his own weapons. Had he not developed the ability to fall asleep and wake immediately upon hearing or feeling a danger, he would not have survived.
After dinner and a nap, he rode the Appaloosa back to the base and once again Derek took the horses back to town. He would return at 1:00 o’clock in the morning and wait for Matthew to come over the hill.
Matthew brought wire cutters with him and made short work of a section of the fence. He bent it back into place so no one could tell it had been cut, unless they were right on top of it. Fortunately, there was no top bar. The fence only ran for the length of the compound, ending east and west of there. He examined the grounds with his binoculars and was unable to locate Mark. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like there were more airmen than in the morning. They were standing around the vehicles, checking their weapons and hanging with their buddies.
Skirting the fence, he made his way the two miles to the ocean, past the bog that separated the hill behind the barracks and the dunes along the beach. He quickly turned north and found himself at the road leading down to the docks. Creeping forward, he saw there were more guards than the day before, as he carefully came up behind a stack of fuel barrels. Worming his way between the barrels, he settled in to see if he could hear any of the conversation.
