Decay: Book 4 in the Thrilling Post-Apocalyptic Survival Series: (Flashpoint - Book 4)

by Tara Ellis

  Montgomery waved a hand dismissively. “I don’t care about who they are right now. I’ll leave it to you to worry about the politics and fill me in if it becomes necessary. For now, I want to know the logistics and the feasibility of them pulling this off.”

  “Governor Jenson is trying to organize a meeting in southern Idaho for later next month.” Walsh hesitated, and the general lost his patience.

  “If you have something more to tell me, then get on with it!” Montgomery stood slowly and looked down at the colonel. When he still failed to speak or even look up at him, he squatted next to Walsh, his uniform protesting the movement. “What is it, Kelly?”

  Walsh stared out at the suburbs of Colorado Springs and gave his head a shake in disgust. “One of my men intercepted a message from Admiral Baker earlier this morning. He’s assisting Governor Jenson in her efforts, Sir.”

  Montgomery wished he could say he was surprised, except that the news was almost expected. Actually, it would work out perfectly with his other…plans. A small smile played at the corners of his lips so he turned away from Walsh and walked across the top of the rock with his hands clasped behind his back. “Do you have any other morsels of information for me, Colonel?”

  Walsh rose slowly and stood staring at the general’s back. “Just that reports of militia activity is increasing. It still isn’t anything that’s truly organized, but enough for Jenson and Baker to use to their advantage when carrying on about crimes against humanity.”

  Montgomery turned his head to look back over his left shoulder. “Explain.”

  “Governor Jenson’s ‘platform’, for lack of a better word, is that our mishandling of the military response is forcing civilians to take up arms to protect themselves.”

  Montgomery snorted. “That’s ridiculous, and anyone with common sense will see that. But…” he paced the length of the rock again, his eyes narrowed in concentration. “Why make it easy for them?”

  “Sir?” Walsh sounded wary.

  “Calling these random bands of thugs militia is giving them too much credit,” Montgomery said thoughtfully. “Ignoring them isn’t an option, of course, but from now on, let’s call them what they really are. Terrorists. Begin daily bulletins, to be distributed and communicated to all active states, highlighting their crimes.”

  Walsh pursed his lips and then nodded. “We start an aggressive campaign now, labeling them as terrorists and claiming their responsibility for the attacks being blamed on our men.”

  General Montgomery knew he could count on his friend to rapidly connect the dots. “As militia, we’re allowing the admiral and Governor Jenson to use them as an excuse to bring the people together to fight against a blood-thirsty dictatorship. However, if they’re the ones using terrorists to push their cause, I would say that makes them a tyrant and a traitor, instead of revolutionaries. Wouldn’t you agree, Colonel?”

  Walsh appeared uncomfortable again, though he held his tongue.

  “When is the first convoy from Mount Weather due to arrive in Denver?” Montgomery asked, already working his new angle.

  “Not until next week,” Walsh answered. “The logistics have proven incredibly difficult, but they’re still making reasonable progress.”

  “Have one of the large caches delivered to Peterson as soon as possible.” Montgomery turned to look to where the Air Force base was located on the far side of Colorado Springs.

  “Sir?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised, Colonel,” Montgomery chastised. “Assign no fewer than a dozen soldiers to work with the local civilian shelters to get them what they need. And have all of that garbage down there cleaned up. Dig a pit or something for it before the smell spreads. We can use Colorado Springs as an example of what we can accomplish once the dust has settled and we get the supplies dispersed. I want a detailed plan on how to get this city back under control.”

  “Yes, sir. I already have a contact list for the local government. We’ve been able to locate a handful of them.”

  Montgomery rubbed at his jaw as he considered the intel. “A committee.”

  “A civilian committee?” Walsh pressed.

  “Don’t politicians love committees?” The general smiled then as his idea continued to form. “I want you to personally approach the highest remaining civilian official in Colorado Springs, and request that he head a committee to work with us on how to rebuild their town.”

  “That would be the mayor. You know, Mr. Fine?” Walsh frowned. “He’s made several attempts to speak with you since the flashpoint, sir.”

  “Then he should be thrilled by this news,” Montgomery snapped. He had hoped to avoid any politics for a few more months, but he should have known it wouldn’t be possible. Even with martial law declared and the literal fate of the world hanging in the balance, there would be those of influence trying to jockey for a position of power. It was all a matter of smoke and mirrors, and knowing when and how to make a move. Fortunately, while the general despised politics, he was a master chess player.

  “There was one more reason I came to find you,” Walsh said while looking back down the road, obviously eager to leave.

  “I’m assuming it’s in regards to my new orders for Vice Admiral Baker?” Montgomery had expected it to be an issue.

  “I’ve got them written up and am ready to deliver it, but…”

  “I imagine he’ll make a scene,” Montgomery finished for the other man. “Yes, yes. I’m well aware of that, and how in light of these other recent events it might be seen as a form of retaliation. But you know what, Colonel?”

  Colonel Walsh knew it was a rhetorical question, and kept his mouth shut.

  “One of the benefits of being in command means I don’t always have to answer to someone,” the general said, his face more animated than usual. “If anyone wants to challenge my decision, they can write a formal complaint and I’ll be sure to give it my utmost attention.”

  “He might refuse.” Walsh stood then and approached the general. “He could use this against you.”

  “You make it sound as if this traitor has a backbone,” Montgomery spat. “I’ve known Baker for years and while he’s a big talker, if you remove his support, he’ll wither right before your eyes. Besides, I’m simply giving the man what he’s been demanding for the past two weeks. He wants us to actively get out there and intervene with the actions of these terrorists. So be it.”

  “But a field assignment?” Walsh pushed. “It’s unheard of to have a vice admiral getting his boots muddy.”

  “These are unusual times.” Montgomery jumped the few feet down from the rock and made his way to the gravel road he’d hiked up to reach it. Looking back, he waited for Walsh to catch up. “Vice Admiral Baker is barely fifty, Colonel. And he’s led men in the field for more years than most have even been in the military. If he’s so eager to cause dissent, then he can at least make some use of himself while he’s doing it.”

  Walsh moved up alongside him, looking resigned. “Yes, sir. I’ll deliver the orders after lunch.”

  “Take an armed escort with you,” Montgomery said as they began walking. He’d made another mistake by underestimating the threat the admiral posed. It was time to advance from the scrambling they’d been doing the past two weeks and focus more on the future.

  It would, of course, be a travesty if the admiral were to find himself face-to-face with some of his “militia”. General Montgomery stopped and squared his shoulders before barking out one final order. “Colonel, get that bastard out of my mountain.”

  Chapter 20

  JAMES

  Master Sergeant, US Marines, 1st Force Reconnaissance

  Butte, Montana

  “So, who’s the asset, Sarge?” Jay leaned in close to James so he wouldn’t have to yell to be heard in the back of the helicopter.

  James hadn’t been totally honest with the general when he said the mission would be the same as any other. He would carry out the op—that wasn’t an issue. It was the
evasiveness toward the rest of his team that bothered him the most. 1st Force Recon was a family, in some ways even more so than a nuclear one. Keeping secrets from each other could end up getting them killed, so his orders didn’t sit well with him. Clenching his jaw, he didn’t meet his friend’s eyes. “Just another scientist.”

  Jay sat back and stared at him until James finally turned his head to face him. “Come on, Terminator. We’ve known each other too long to pull this crap with each other.”

  Using his handle was going back to their old days together in basics. James wasn’t sure why the information was so important to Jay. He didn’t usually care about the details so long as he was clear about his role. It was likely because he could tell James was acting differently, which made him nervous.

  Sitting up straight, he did the only thing he could do. Pull rank. “Do we have a problem, Gunnery Sergeant Terrill?”

  Jay’s face reddened and he glanced over at Lee and O’Grady, who were close enough to hear most of the exchange. “No, sir. I only thought it might help us avoid getting killed if we had a better idea this time of what we’re walking into.”

  “My understanding is that we’re making entry into a two-story wooden structure located in the middle of an upper middle-class suburb in Butte,” Sergeant O’Grady rattled off.

  “Shut up, Lucas,” Jay barked, clearly not in the mood to joke around. “I’m more interested in the who and why, rather than the where.”

  “You know everything you need to,” James said gruffly while leveling Jay with a look that made it clear the discussion was over. At some point, he’d be able to explain the whole mess to his best friend and get his valued input, but not yet. He was under strict orders and he was a soldier first, above all else.

  “At least we learned something from our op in Albuquerque,” Corporal Flores said with optimism, while pointing at a crate full of bottled water.

  James smiled and then jerked his chin toward Jay. “It was a good idea, Sergeant.”

  “Just a simple slight of hand,” Jay replied, still sullen.

  Unlike the necessarily direct approach they had to make at the military base, the rural neighborhood offered several more options. The houses sat on lots from a quarter to a full acre in size, and had several greenbelts they would make good use of. It was currently around lunchtime, so they didn’t have the advantage of an early morning or late-night operation, but they shouldn’t need it.

  The latest report coming out of the smaller town was that there was plenty of unrest and the usual anarchy and destruction. However, without any large targets of interest, such as a military base or FEMA shelter, it wasn’t considered a hot zone. Easy pickings for a team of highly trained Marines.

  Four of the men would INFIL at the nearest greenbelt, while Helo One then transported Alphas Five and Six to the opposite side of town. From there, they would draw any attention away from the insert team by dropping water and bags of peanuts. The rations had been Jay’s idea, and it was a good one. It not only helped with their mission, but also allowed them to give some aid and leave a better impression. They were all aware of the rumors surrounding their last op. It didn’t matter if they were true or not, just that people were saying it.

  Five clicks.

  The pilot’s voice cut into his thoughts as it filtered through his headset and James made a wind-up motion with his hand. The other five men in the back of the helo moved almost in unison, like a well-choreographed dance. Donning the rest of their FSBE—full spectrum battle equipment—and TASC communication gear, they then quickly and methodically went through their final checks.

  Amidst a flurry of hand signals, James moved aft to the open door and waited as they approached the INFIL point. If the maps proved accurate, there would be a field more than big enough to accommodate them near the greenbelt. Resting a hand on his M4, James studied the landscape slipping by as they swooped in. It was the same as any other city they’d seen. Fires still burned and groups of people milled about. He didn’t see any sign of an organized, armed force, or large encampments that were obvious. As they slid over the tops of a row of houses, he recognized the neighborhood and had to take a second calming breath, before giving the order.

  “Go, go, go,” James spoke into his headset while also motioning to his team, and he was the first to leap from the helo as it hovered several feet above the grassy field. Landing in a crouch, he then moved forward cautiously, not taking anything about their situation for granted.

  As the four soldiers ambled swiftly toward the belt of evergreens, James once again contemplated the viability of the op. The reality was if the asset didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t be. His training was just as rigorous as the 1st Force Recon Unit…maybe more. The fact that he’d fallen off the radar after one soft contact spoke volumes to James. He didn’t understand it, but trusted that the man had his reasons. Good ones.

  Once under the cover of the trees, the men stood and ran at a swifter pace, covering the quarter mile in a matter of minutes. By the time they reached the far side that butted up against several wooden fence lines, marking private backyards, Helo One could be seen hovering above what must have been the far side of town.

  “Alpha One to Helo One,” James said, eying the bird.

  Go for Helo One.

  “Helo One, what’s your SITREP?”

  Helo One is over our target site. Ready to drop the package. Drawing some attention but no Tango contact.

  “That’s a hard copy, Helo One. Closing in on position two.”

  James moved up to the five-foot wooden fence and peered into the yard. He didn’t recognize it, but the one next to it was familiar. Raising his right hand, James motioned to the house on their left and then crept the length of the fence to where it met with the other homes thick hedge.

  Leaping over the lower barrier, the four soldiers jogged silently across the grass. A dog barked from somewhere up the block and a baby could be heard crying. A sudden scraping sound nearby caused James to spin and drop to a knee.

  “Hey!” a man cried in alarm. He had just come out his patio door, dressed in dirty shorts and bare-chested. Aside from a bottle of beer, he was empty-handed and clearly not a threat. Throwing his hands up, he dropped the beer, and stared wide-eyed at the soldiers.

  “Get back inside!” James ordered, eying the spilled beer. What a waste.

  As the terrified neighbor did as he was told, James continued into the next yard. He wasn’t too concerned about the unexpected contact, since short of running outside and yelling, there wasn’t any way to communicate to anyone that he had seen them. Plus, there was a very real chance that the guy would be hiding in his closet for a while.

  “Alpha One to Helo One,” James spoke into his headset as he approached the sliding glass door of the target house.

  Go for Helo One.

  “We’ve reached position two. Making entry.”

  Helo One copies. Still no Tango contact. The natives are happily distributing the goods.

  James tried the door. Confirming it was locked, he took a step back and nodded at Alpha Three. Moving forward, the other man made quick work of the lock and then stepped aside.

  “Alphas Three and Four, you hold the perimeter,” James directed. “Alpha Two, you’re with me.”

  Jay exchanged a quick look with the other two men, but no one commented on the change in the approach. James was counting on his men’s trust to carry them through the mission, and hopefully, to salvage their friendship afterward.

  “Clear!” Jay called from the nearest room as James moved toward the front of the house. They would conduct a standard sweep pattern, but he already knew what the result would be. There obviously wasn’t anyone there and likely hadn’t been since before the flashpoint. If the asset had made it back after the event, the house would have been fortified and they certainly wouldn’t have gained entry so easily.

  He heard Jay climbing the stairs to the second floor where there were two bedrooms and two baths. T
he bottom floor contained a guest room, family room, and office, in addition to the large country kitchen.

  James traveled stoically through the space, going through the steps robotically and without emotion. Making quick work of it, he ended at the threshold to the office. A large wooden desk sat facing the French doors, an inviting bay window behind it. The two side walls were covered with built-in bookcases, and the floor had a thick accent rug with warm colors. The only other furniture was an overstuffed leather chair positioned near one of the walls. There was a small side table next to it with a darkened Tiffany lamp. When lit, it would have been inviting for someone to sit and read one of the hundreds of books. Now, it stood as a form of mockery. An expensive piece of artwork that might never shed light again.

  Master Sergeant James Campbell stood with his hand on the frame of the doorway, one foot in the office. He knew how misleading the room was. That it portrayed a man of silent intelligence. Perhaps a college professor or some other literary powerhouse who wielded a pen instead of a sword. James knew the truth.

  Moving with more resolve, he crossed to the desk. Filtered light from the bay window revealed that amongst several other items, there was a closed laptop and an empty notepad next to it. Pushing the desk chair aside, James crouched down and began sorting through the meaningless clutter until he found what he was looking for. Picking up the calendar, he grimaced when he saw the highlighted days for the week of the flashpoint. The asset was on vacation for several days prior to, and during the event.

  Raising a finger to trace the hastily scribbled notes that riddled the paper, James didn’t know if he was disappointed or relieved to know the asset wasn’t there. Dropping the calendar onto the laptop, he picked them both up. The computer was likely fried, but the technicians at Cheyenne Mountain might be able to salvage something off the hard drive.