by Payne, T. L.
“Okay, sir.”
“Fisher, stay hidden—escape and evade. Got it?”
“Yes, sir. Got it.”
“And when you get there, hunker down and stay hidden. I don’t know how long it may be until we can get folks in there to extract you two.”
“Yes, sir. Got it, sir.”
“Alright. Remember your training. Remember the SALUTE Report? What does the acronym SALUTE stand for?”
“Sir, that’s Size, Activity, Location, Unit identification, Time, and Equipment.”
“That's right. I want you to give me a good SALUTE Report when you call next.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Alright. Stay alert and quiet on your way. Sharp out,” he said and hung up the phone.
When Fisher hung up the satphone, Isabella said, “What the hell was that, girl?”
“What?”
“Where was all that tough-ass confidence go? You sounded scared shitless.”
“I don’t like talking to officers. They make me nervous.”
Isabella tripped and stumbled her way downstream in the dry creek bed following as close as she could behind Fisher. She didn’t really feel much pain. She walked in a fog as her mind tried to grasp what had happened back there, refusing to accept that she was injured, they were on their own, and on the run from an overwhelming enemy force.
Fisher grabbed Isabella’s shirt sleeve and yanked her from her thoughts. She pulled her to the right and they climbed over a hill and down another draw that led to the creek. They stumbled in the dark following the creek downstream as the sound of gunfire faded completely. The two women dropped down to the muddy bank and slid back under the roots of a large tree overhanging the creek. Isabella wrapped her right hand around her injured arm and wept.
Morning seemed to take forever to arrive as they hid among the tree roots along the bank of the creek. Fisher nudged Isabella. “I think we should follow this creek until it crosses a road. I can get a compass reading and see where we need to go from there.”
Isabella attempted to stand. She was stiff from being in one position for hours, and her legs protested. Fisher steadied her as Isabella stepped back into the icy stream.
“Ouch!”
Fisher glanced down at Isabella’s arm.
“Shit, Fontenot, you’re bleeding again.”
Isabella stared down at the crimson stain on her light blue button-up blouse. She stuck her finger into the hole the bullet had made in it and felt the sticky substance.
“Let’s get that off and take a good look,” Fisher said, unbuttoning the cuff of Isabella’s right sleeve and then helped her out of her blouse.
Isabella couldn’t look at it. Fisher wrinkled her nose as she cleaned the wound. Despite the pain, it felt better once Fisher had rinsed out the bandana and rebandaged her wound. She knew the risk of infection she faced without proper medical attention. She’d have to hold on and pray they made it back to Little Rock before gangrene or sepsis set in. Isabella picked up her blouse and gently slid her left arm into the sleeve and pulled the shirt over the top of her tactical vest. She held her left arm close to her chest with her hand resting just under her chin.
They continued downstream until reaching a road that crossed over the creek. “Any idea where we are?” Isabella asked as they climbed the bank.
“Let’s look for road signs or landmarks.”
Fisher chewed on her bottom lip as she placed her compass on the topographical map. “I think we’re here.” She pointed to a road running east away from Highway 60 to the east of Ellsinore.
Isabella studied the map. They were on foot, she was injured and they were maybe two hundred miles from Little Rock. She ran her right index finger over the map south along Highway 60. She stopped at the town of Pollard, Arkansas. “How far are we from Pollard?”
Fisher stowed the map and compass back into her pack and exhaled slowly. “Fifty miles.”
They quickly discovered they would be unable to follow the highway. Thirty minutes into their trek, Isabella heard a vehicle approaching and they were forced to hop the guardrail and hide from a convoy of black painted military-style vehicles. “MRAPs?” Isabella asked.
“I counted five.”
They waited there until the sound of the engines faded before climbing back over the guardrail and continuing south on Highway 60 heading toward the city of Poplar Bluff.
“We’ll stay under there.” Fisher pointed to a bridge on Highway 60 next to a gas station called The Wood Shed. She redialed Colonel Sharp, took a deep breath and, this time, delivered a proper SALUTE report, albeit still lacking her battle-hardened, tough-ass demeanor, just before her satphone died.
Twenty-Seven
Stephens
Henson Farm
Texas County, Missouri
July 14th
Event + Ten Months
The wagon stopped at a checkpoint where the two guards made Stephens, Hogan, and Collins dismount their horses and then checked their weapons. After passing through another manned gate, the wagon stopped by a small barn. Stephens was impressed. This group seemed to be managing quite well. They had proper security, a seemingly working farm, and a group of knowledgeable people. A woman and girl emerged from the barn to greet them. The girl looked to be around eleven or twelve years old. She was a little thin, but not overly so. It struck Stephens how they now judged people based upon their weight. Thin and gaunt meant they were barely hanging on. A little thin, like these folks, meant they were doing better than most at surviving this awful time in American history.
“Is breakfast ready?” a tall man wearing a long black beard asked, walking up behind the pair. “Hey, Lugnut. I’m glad you’re back. Breakfast will be ready soon,” the woman replied.
Maddie nodded toward the house. “Let’s go in. We’ll gather everyone, and you can tell us all what the government has been up to these last few months.”
“Maddie!” a little red-haired girl squealed, running toward her. “You’re back already?” When she spotted Stephens, her eyes widened, and she took two steps back, pushing rich auburn ringlets from her pale face.
“It’s okay. They’re with the government,” Maddie told her. “They're here to help," she said with more than a hint of sarcasm.
Inside the house, there was a long oak table set just off the well-equipped kitchen. Another woman was at the stove, stirring something in a large cast iron pot.
Maddie pointed to the table. “Let’s have a seat and hear your story.”
Stephens repeated what she’d told Harding, Aims, and the others out on the road for everyone gathered to hear. There were many wide eyes and open mouths as she described what was taking place down in Texas.
“What are you not telling us?” Aims asked.
She was holding back information—that much was obvious. It was only natural that she’d only give them the information needed to enlist their cooperation in her plan to retrieve the gold. She’d need to up the stakes it appeared, so she told them about the Russian and Chinese invasions.
“It’s important to stop their advance into the rest of the country. To do that, we need military equipment. To buy that equipment, we need that gold shipment. I don’t have time to sit here and explain everything. I have to get that gold on the plane heading south before the Brazilian government’s ship leaves the Port of Houston.”
“Just how are you planning on getting a shipment of gold all the way to Houston?” a bearded man wearing a shirt with a skull printed on it asked.
“I have a plane coming to meet me at the Fort Leonard Wood airport.”
“You hear that, Lugnut? She has a plane.”
“Just hear her out, Rank,” Lugnut replied.
“What about General Dempsey? How do his forces figure into this?” Aims asked.
Stephens pursed her lips. “General Dempsey is not working with the federal government at this point. His forces are the ones that attacked my team and killed my men.”
Rank turne
d to a third man with a long beard who was gripping a Marine Corps coffee mug in both hands. “What do you make of this, Ryan?”
Ryan lifted one shoulder. “Nothing surprises me these days.” He studied Hogan and Collins before turning his attention to Stephens. “If it’s all true, it looks like they might need some help.”
Stephens smiled. They indeed needed help and from the looks of this group, they just might have the skills to pull it off.
“So, we have three days to get that shipment back?” Lugnut asked, turning the conversation back to the task at hand.
“If we have any hope of it reaching the Port of Houston in time,” Stephens said.
“So, all you have to do is get the gold back from the outlaws who stole it, get it on the plane at Fort Leonard Wood, and somehow make it down to the Port of Houston? Simple,” Lugnut said.
“Well, at least we have an idea where the Godwin boys are holed up,” Dustin said.
Stephens pushed her chair out and stood, then rounded the table heading for the door. “Let’s go, then.”
“You’re sure it was the Godwin boys?” Lugnut asked.
“Yeah. It’s a pretty sure bet. The guy at the trade fair says Justin Godwin was flashing gold coins around Nelson’s bar. Two and two adds up to those boys are the ones who took it,” Dustin said.
“Let’s round up some fresh horses and extra riders and see if we can’t track down those Godwin boys,” Lugnut said.
Stephens turned to Lugnut, who was already heading for the door. “We need to find this Justin kid.”
“He’ll be at his momma’s place near Newburg,” Lugnut said.
Ryan, Lugnut, and Rank led Stephens and her two men through the woods to the entrance of Carver Cave.
“Ryan, you guard the entrance. Rank and I are going in to confirm whether the gold is even in there.”
A gunshot came from the cave. The three men dove for cover and waited a few minutes. Lugnut pulled a mason jar from his pack and stepped inside the mouth of the cave. He reared back and threw it as hard and far as he could. Rank buried his mouth and nose in the crook of his elbow and waited for the foul odor to fill the space.
“Oh my God!” a young male voice cried out. “What the hell, man.”
A moment later, a kid of about fourteen years of age emerged from the cave, tears streaming down his cheeks and holding his nose.
“What? You don’t like eggs?” Rank laughed while breathing through his shirt.
“How many more are inside?” Lugnut asked, grabbing the kid by his shirt collar.
“Nobody. Just me. The rest are all dead,” the kid said.
Rank grabbed the boy's hand and twisted it behind his back. “What happened here?”
The boy looked up. “Some guys came in, guns blazing and shot everyone dead.”
“Was it Nelson’s crew?” Ryan asked.
The boy’s head shot up. A look of fear faded from his eyes. “You’re not with Nelson’s crew?”
“No. I’ll ask you again, who did this?” Rank gave the boy’s arm a little shake.
“Jep will kill you if you hurt me,” the kid whined.
“I ain’t going to hurt you if you tell me the truth,” Rank said.
“I’m telling you the truth.”
“Was it Nelson?” Ryan asked.
“Yeah.”
“Hogan, come secure our prisoner,” Lugnut called out.
The three men went inside. When they emerged, they didn’t look pleased.
“Is it gone?” Stephens yelled.
Lugnut turned his back to the mouth of the cave. “Yes. Locating it could take days. Nelson has dozens of men with an almost endless supply of ammunition.”
“You backing out on helping me?” Stephens asked.
“No. We won’t back out. We’re Marines. I just wanted you to be clear about what we’re going up against. With those odds, even if we get the gold, we may not make your deadline,” Rank said.
“How long will it take to get to Nelson’s place?” Stephens asked.
“I don’t know. Maybe five or six hours. We can trot or canter on the dirt roads, but the gravel and blacktop will slow us down. The horses are already tired.”
“What are you thinking?” Lugnut asked her.
“We’re going to need more weapons, more ammo, and more men,” she said, climbing into her saddle.
Rank and Lugnut looked at each other. “You’re planning on waiting for the plane to arrive and then go for the gold?” Rank asked. “What if the plane never comes?”
“We can’t take them on with two shotgun shells and a few boxes of ammo. Didn’t you say he had dozens of well-armed men?” Stephens asked.
“I agree. We should go to the fort and wait for our team,” Hogan said.
“All right, then,” Rank said, climbing into his saddle and turning his horse to face Stephens. “Let’s go to the fort.”
They had a plan. They’d go to Fort Leonard Wood and get reinforcements. Stephens wasn’t ready to give up—not yet—not while there was still hope. They had another lead and she wasn’t going to stop until she found the gold.
Twenty-Eight
Will
Northeast Arkansas
July 14th
Event + Ten Months
Will had his orders. It was clear the enemy wasn’t planning on taking Smith and the lieutenant very far from where they’d previously been held or they would have far more soldiers escorting them. It was now or never. Will’s squad had to make their move before the pickup reached its destination. They may never get a better chance.
Will gave the order and Jason opened up on the rear vehicle with the M2 Browning Ma Deuce tearing apart the sedan. It skidded on the loose gravel, veered left, ran off the roadway and down a ravine. The pickup weaved back and forth kicking up a dust cloud and trying to avoid being hit by the rounds. As the driver veered to the left side of the gravel road, Jason fired at the front tire and the pickup flipped several times before stopping upside down in a ditch. Will and the squad raced toward the truck.
Dropping to his knees, Will reached inside the vehicle to check on the lieutenant. He looked at Jason and shook his head. Walker was on his knees on the other side of the pickup. “I’ve got a pulse.” Smith had survived the crash. He was unconscious, so Will couldn’t try to find out if he’d told the enemy anything about the mission at the moment.
After Brad Smith’s and the lieutenant’s bodies were loaded into the Humvee, they headed southeast across an open field and away from the scene.
Will pulled the satphone from his belt and called Colonel Sharp.
“Sir, we’ve got Smith and the lieutenant but Smith is unconscious and the LT is dead. We can’t determine whether either of them talked.”
“Roger that, Fontenot. Good work. Get your asses back to Little Rock, and call me back if Smith wakes up.”
“Roger that, sir.”
The dirt road eventually wound around until the squad emerged a few miles south of where the enemy had held the prisoners. Will chose to take Highway 62 back to Pollard. There he tried again to radio Isabella’s squad without success. He decided to believe they had already made it to their rally point and met up with Team Lonestar. He had to do his best to think positively because he wanted to pull Smith out of the vehicle and pummel him.
Jason had climbed out of the turret and traded places with another soldier to babysit Smith on the way back. He kept prodding Smith with the barrel of his rifle trying to rouse him awake. The amount of blood seeping from the gash on the side of Smith’s head worried Will. It could be that Smith might die before making it back to Little Rock.
“His pulse is pretty good,” Walker said, letting the man’s hand drop to his lap. Walker turned Smith’s head from side to side studying his face. “He doesn’t look like he was interrogated much.”
Much? How much would it take? Maybe they didn’t have to work him over very long before he sang.
“The lieutenant looks like he took a beating,
” Jason said, looking down at the dead officer lying on the floor of the vehicle. He didn’t get all that from the crash. There’s bruising under his left eye and his lip is swollen. That happened before the crash.”
“Maybe they didn’t know who or what Smith was. They might have somehow determined he was a nobody,” Will said.
“Smith may have told them he was a private and didn’t know anything,” Jason said.
“Maybe.”
Jason plugged his nose. “Some time or another, he shit his pants.”
It was an unbearable smell in the enclosed space of the Humvee, and just one more reason why Will couldn’t wait to reach the base and get rid of this guy.
Will studied Smith as they bounced over the pothole-filled roads back toward the post. They had to proceed as if Smith had talked and the enemy knew everything. Stephens and Team Lonestar needed to be informed. They’d need to take measures. They needed to get Smith back to Little Rock, find out where Isabella was, and somehow catch up with them. They still had a mission to complete. They would need all the help they could get to keep that gold out of the hands of the enemy, wouldn’t they?
“They’ll send us back out. I’m almost positive,” Walker said.
“I’m not so sure.” If Team Lonestar and 1st squad hadn’t secured the gold by now, there was no way Will and his squad could do it and get it to Fort Leonard Wood in time to be flown the Houston by the deadline. “I guess it will depend on how things are going up there in Missouri.”
Will knew the moment they pulled up to the gate at Little Rock Military Base that something wasn’t right. The guard stopped them and had everyone get out of the vehicle. Military Policemen and a civilian rushed from the guard shack to the gate and whisked Smith off toward the medical facility. Will and his squad were escorted to their barracks and told to sit tight.
“Has there been any word from the rest of our platoon?” Will asked. It was stupid. He knew the MPs either wouldn’t know or wouldn’t say even if they knew. He needed to know, desperately.
