Fall of Houston Series | Book 5 | No Man's Land

by Payne, T. L.

  Will, Corey, and the other soldiers in their clearing party had cleared every structure on the right side of Highway 9 from Williams Junction to Thornburg and were heading back when a soldier ran up to meet them from the direction of the convenience store.

  “Sergeant Talbot said to double-time it back. They found the shooters’ compound.”

  “Compound?” Will asked.

  “Yeah. There’s a shit ton of people living there and they’re all armed to the teeth.”

  Will, Corey, and the others took up a slow jog back to the store to meet up with the rest of the platoon.

  “I have a feeling they aren’t going to go willingly, sir,” Sergeant Talbot said.

  O’Neil handed Lieutenant Brown a piece of paper showing a drawing of the compound’s layout.

  “Maybe we should radio back for re-enforcements. We might need…”

  “We’ve got this. It’s our mission. We can handle it,” Brown said, interrupting Talbot.

  “What if they’re as heavily armed as O’Neil says…” He nodded toward the squads who were squaring away their gear in preparation for battle. “They’ve not encountered anything like that yet.”

  They were nine weeks into their basic training and it was true, they weren’t ready for a battle. They’d only come across one other person with a weapon. Most people had run out of ammunition months ago. Will was concerned—and damn glad Isabella wasn’t with them. Who knew that a stomach bug could be a blessing.

  The compound was huge. A pipe fence ran around it as far as Will could see, and armed guards walked the perimeter. He counted three main buildings, a large house, an even larger metal building about two feet from the house, and a rather new barn about one hundred yards from the metal building. Those were the only permanent structures and likely were original to the place. The rest reminded Will of the homestead back in Vincent with campers, tents, and shacks covering nearly all of the pasture.

  Will looked through his rifle scope and panned to the right of the barn. “They have chickens.”

  “Chicken!” Corey smacked her lips. “I could really go for some southern fried chicken right now.”

  The suggestion made Will’s stomach growl. The MRE he’d had for lunch was less than emotionally satisfying. It was full of the calories he needed, but lacking in flavor. He’d almost forgotten what fried chicken even tasted like after so long without it.

  “It sure is a shame to disturb these people. They aren’t hurting anyone and it seems like they’re doing just fine on their own,” Corey said.

  Will nodded. The thought struck him, this could be them if they were to strike out on their own and form a community similar to this one. It seemed that an arbitrary rule was making it impossible for citizens to be self-sufficient and care for their own families. Surely there had to be an exception if the community didn’t want assistance and could make it on their own.

  A moment later, Will received his answer as the order to advance was given and the first shots were fired. Will joined his squad in moving toward the compound but didn’t fire his weapon. It seemed wrong. They were the invaders in this situation.

  “Medic!” someone cried out. “Corey’s hit!”

  Will turned and ran back to where she lay on the ground. She stared back at Will wide eyed. Blood spurted from a gash in her neck. “It’s okay, Corey. Just be still. Doc, here, will get you patched up and we’ll take you back to base,” Will said, trying to calm her as his own pulse raced. The medic began applying pressure to her wound. Will ran around and dropped down on Corey’s left side and took her hand. He looked up and the medic shook his head. Corey was dead. Shot by people just wanting to be left alone to survive. Will used his index finger to close her eyes and stood. He wiped the blood on his uniform pants and picked up his rifle. “This is just wrong,” he said in a low voice.

  “Orders are orders, Fontenot,” Sergeant Talbot said as he approached Will.

  “They’re all just trying to survive.”

  “We all are,” he replied.

  Two

  Savanah

  Texarkana Refugee Center

  Texarkana, Texas

  Event + Seven Months

  A grouping of picnic tables had been placed on the outskirts of the camp, away from the shelters and children’s play area. It was the only place for adults to gather and socialize inside the fence. Some of the camp residents had found a weakness in the perimeter fence and ventured outside to a shopping area nearby. They met at the picnic tables once a week to discuss conditions inside the refugee center. Savanah knew this because she had been invited to join them, but she hadn’t attended until now. She was unsure of their motives for inviting her.

  As she lowered herself onto the picnic bench, Savanah blocked the sun with an outstretched hand and looked skyward. It had rained for over a week straight, and after being cooped up with four bored children, she was relishing the warm sun and gentle breeze. The kids were all in school and she had just finished her shift at the dining facility. It was her first chance to be alone with her thoughts in weeks. With Jason, Will, Isabella, and most of the group she’d traveled with to Texarkana now gone on a mission with the military, much responsibility rested on her.

  “Enjoying the sun?” Gabby said as she slid in across from Savanah.

  “Yeah. I usually love spring, but…” She waved her hand gesturing toward row after row of tents and shelters that housed nearly one thousand people.

  “You miss the farm.”

  Her cousin understood. Spring was one of the busiest times on a farm. There would be gardens to prepare and seeds to plant. Piglets, lambs, and kids would be born. Chicks would be hatched. The grass would be turning green and leaves beginning to bud. Here, all she saw was concrete and chain link fence—and people. Lots of people.

  “Have you heard anything from Will and Isabella lately?” Gabby asked.

  “Not in the last two weeks. Jason said they were on patrols. That makes me nervous.”

  “On horseback?” Gabby asked.

  “Yes. It’s part of their training.” Savanah tossed her long braid over her shoulder and placed her hands on the table. She stared at them. She was only thirty years old, but you couldn’t tell that by the way her hands looked. Day after day of harsh cleaning products were taking a toll on her skin. The guards had taken all her homemade lotions and herbal remedies when they had arrived. She’d protested of course, but they said it was for safety reasons. Safety? What did they think she’d do with goats’ milk and honey lotion?

  “How’s Jason’s foot?”

  “He said he was getting around on it better. They’re going to release him to light duty.” Jason’s horse had stepped on his foot and he’d been in a cast for six weeks. Savanah had hoped they would let her husband recuperate at the shelter with her, but they had required him to stay on base in Little Rock and do paperwork. He ate with his unit and attended classroom instruction. He had been assigned work in the saddle shop and in the armory. Anything to keep him in training.

  “Light duty means shoveling horse shit,” Gabby said smiling.

  “And grooming the horses,” Savanah said.

  Jason had been glad to be assigned to the Horse Detachment Unit. He enjoyed working with horses. Savanah had thought it was a good thing until she learned that the unit would be tasked with some of the more dangerous missions. They would be traveling without armored vehicles into rugged country. She had seen first hand how dangerous the backroads could be. Not everyone was happy to see the military.

  At least he was with Will and Isabella. Pete and her cousins, Tank and Troy, had deployed with the 504th Military Intelligence Brigade to conduct intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance operations deep into the Midwest where some Army general had stolen government resources and forced citizens into labor camps. Savanah wasn’t supposed to know about their mission, but Gabby was close to her brothers. Tank and Troy kept Gabby informed about where they were. How, Savanah didn’t know. Gabby had refuse
d to say.

  “Have you thought any more about what Mac and Jeremy talked about?”

  Savanah picked at a hangnail. She thought about the hours and hours she spent washing dishes each day. Had she thought about leaving the refugee center? Only a hundred times a day. But she wasn’t sure about Mac or his son-in-law Jeremy. They, like her, weren’t happy with all the rules and regulations they had to abide by living at a government-run facility, but they were being fed and protected there. Even though some of the rules seemed arbitrary and stupid to Savanah, her children never went hungry. That was the most important thing to her.

  Mac Wilson and his son-in-law were the ringleaders of a band of disgruntled refugees at the facility. In the beginning, Mac had been quite vocal in his dislike for how things were run. When he had been threatened with expulsion, he had taken to complaining in secret where he found an audience of people with a distrust of the government.

  Savanah met Gabby’s gaze. “I’ve given it some thought.”

  “And?”

  “As much as I hate being told I can’t homeschool my children or have a say in what they’re being taught, I’m not ready to leave the safety and security of the camp. Not with Mac and his bunch. When Jason and the others return, maybe we can set out and find someplace.”

  Gabby was quiet.

  “Are you thinking about leaving?” Savanah said.

  She nodded and looked away.

  “Gabby?”

  “They’re planning on moving everyone to the cities as soon as they have power restored. The center will be closed.”

  Savanah gasped. “When? How much time do we have?”

  “A month. Three months. No one knows right now, but they are preparing. They intend for us to work in factories making shit for the military. I’m not sticking around to spend ten to twelve hours a day sweltering in some factory in Houston making bullets and rockets.”

  Savanah didn’t want that either. Was this just more of Mac’s talk? It made some sense that they would need workers to manufacture things in order to get the country running again. It wasn’t like they could log onto their computers and order replacement parts from China. China was the enemy, and as far as she knew, China was also now in a big a mess after the United States had retaliated and dropped American bombs on them in response.

  “What’s the plan?” Savanah asked. When she’d last heard Mac speak on the subject, they really didn’t have a plan for where to go or how to make sure everyone was fed.

  “Mac and Jeremy are going to head north next week. They plan to find a deserted rural town that might be suitable as a home base, and near enough to a river to provide water and good river bottom crop land.”

  “Are they leaving their families here or taking them?”

  “Leaving them for now—until they find a place.”

  Savanah pictured a little town like Vincent. She longed to return there and to her family's farm, but without knowing the condition of the place, everyone had been reluctant to leave the shelter. There had been reports of heavy fighting in the area. They could get there only to find the house and barn burned to the ground. If only Jason, Will, and the others hadn’t joined the military. If the homestead had been destroyed, they might be able to rebuild by winter. Food would still be scarce though. That was always the major problem. Getting enough food to survive was the driving force in all their decisions now, something most people had taken for granted before the lights went out.

  “So, when Mac returns for his family, you’re heading out with them?”

  “Me and the rest of the folks from Vincent.”

  She meant the band of folks that had called the casino home before war reached the town. Savanah had never learned what became of the people at the church. Father Johnson had done his best to care for the frail and elderly that sought sanctuary there. She prayed they had found their way to safety as well. Was anywhere safe outside Texarkana? If there were safe places, Savanah hadn’t heard of them.

  Three

  Stephens

  Killen, Texas

  Fort Hood Army Base

  Event + Seven Months

  Lieutenant Ryan Sharp stood at attention in front of the assembly of military and CIA attendees. CIA Analyst Rachel Stephens sat in the front row. Their eyes met. Stephens smiled and Sharp smiled back. Lieutenant General Robert Waltrip, post commander at Fort Hood, was the promoting official.

  Brad “the Cad,” standing behind Stephens, tapped her on the shoulder. “He won’t be smiling when he’s out there in no man’s land without hot showers and hot meals.”

  Stephens ignored him. She wasn’t looking forward to leaving the comfort of the base either, but she was ready to get to Little Rock and get their mission underway. It had taken some time to convince Waltrip to focus on General Dempsey and his emerging kingdom. Now that the fighting between the US and Chinese forces along the gulf coast had subsided, resources could be used to focus on General Dempsey’s operation in the Midwest.

  Promoting Sharp to lead 1st Cavalry’s Horse Detachment Unit had been Colonel Williams’ idea. She’d convinced Waltrip of the soundness of using the once ceremonial unit to conduct the recon mission. The mounted unit would be able to move in ways that motorized units could not—and they consumed zero fuel. It had taken a presidential order to promote Sharp from lieutenant to colonel, but with so few officers left to lead, President Latham hadn’t required much convincing, though being promoted directly from lieutenant to colonel was a rarity, indeed. Sharp had the intelligence background as well as Ranger training. Waltrip had been reluctant, but Williams had convinced him Sharp was the right man for this mission. Stephens agreed. She trusted Sharp.

  Following the ceremony, Sharp gave Stephens a tour of the stables and barracks for the forty soldiers, thirty horses, three mules, and two dogs that she’d be traveling with over the next several months. She had seen them exhibit their horseback marksmanship and saber skills. It was an impressive show. It reminded her of the shows at the rodeos she’d attended as a girl out in West Texas.

  “You’ll train with the unit starting tomorrow. Stop by in the morning and they’ll get you a saddle and boots.”

  Stephens stared at Sharp for a long moment as she considered the long hours she would be spending in the saddle each day. It had been a lot of years since she’d ridden. Her butt hurt just thinking about it.

  “Once we get to Little Rock, how long before we’ll be set up for the Illinois mission?”

  “It depends on how fast these guys can get our new recruits trained. We’ll need to send out teams to round up more horses, break and train them—it could be a couple of months.”

  That wasn’t what Stephens wanted to hear. With each passing day, more and more citizens were succumbing to starvation and disease. They desperately needed the supplies Dempsey was hoarding for himself. Despite President Latham’s best efforts, with so few resources, recovery was moving at a snail’s pace. And with the trouble on the west coast threatening to spill over in their direction, it wouldn’t be long before everything was diverted to stop the enemy’s advance across the Rockies into the heartland of America.

  “I could use a smaller team. We could take a boat up the Mississippi.”

  “If I can spare anyone, you know I’ll do my best, Stephens,” Sharp said, turning to face her.

  Her gaze fell to the silver eagles on his right and left shoulder boards. He had a monumental task ahead of him. Training civilians to become soldiers was one thing, but training them to become proficient mounted soldiers ready to go into battle on horseback was another. Dempsey had military vehicles and ample ammunition, or so they’d been told. The troopers of the Horse Cavalry Detachment Unit would need to be quick and agile as well as highly accurate with their weapons. They would need to pick their battles carefully. That was one of her jobs—to find out where Dempsey’s army would be and how to exploit their weaknesses. She was more than ready to get started.

  Stephens bobbed her head and smiled. “Le
t’s get to Little Rock and get the show on the road.”

  Riding behind the convoy of horse trailers as they made their way north along Interstate 35 toward Texarkana, Stephens pored over the intel that had been gathered on Dempsey’s operation thus far. She opened a folder labeled FEMA Region Five. Inside was the bio for the smiling African American director, Reginald Harding. Harding oversaw emergency management for Illinois, Indiana, Michigan, Minnesota, Ohio, and Wisconsin. He had been the source of much of the information they had on Dempsey’s plot to set up his own government. After being targeted for assassination by Dempsey, Harding and his deputy director, Gerald Aims, had escaped and made their way to Missouri. They’d alerted military forces there and stopped them from joining Dempsey’s forces. It had been said that one act might well have put a halt to Dempsey taking control of Missouri and Arkansas.

  “We should go find him,” said Brad “the Cad,” who leaned over from behind her and poked an index finger at the photograph. “He knows Dempsey well. He also once had the respect of the men and women who worked for Region Five. He knows who on the inside might be willing to work with us.”

  She hated it, but he was right. Harding and Aims were valuable assets and a wealth of information. She made a note to have someone track them down. They’d last been seen at the shelter in Columbia, Missouri. She checked the date on the data sheet. “Shit!”

  “What?” Brad asked.

  “This says they left the shelter back in the fall. They could be anywhere now.”

  “Or dead.”

  Stephens looked up and glared at him.

  “It’s true. You’ve heard the same reports. Most of the country has died of starvation by now.”