by Cory Mccoy
“I'd just like to say a few words before we eat,” Jeanine said “Lord we thank you for your grace, that in these trying times you allow us to share a meal and each others company. We also thank you for our new family. Sent here to protect us, allowing us to cherish one of the few safe places left in this world. As we prepare for a new journey we ask you for courage and guidance. We don't ask that you let us retain our worldly possessions, because the love we share is far more important. Thank you lord for all the blessings you have given us. And in the days to come, all that you allow us to keep.”
“Amen,” Sombers said as she finished, still holding her hand. Terry had lined up all the tables into one enormous banquet table, seating the nearly sixty people present.
Liz and Johann exchanged a knowing look, certainly pertaining toward this new friendship. What was it about this place that made you want to share the experience with someone else?
“So Sombers,” I asked after the room had become sluggish. “Did you get a chance to go to the post office?”
“I certainly did, and you have some mail waiting,” he said referring to communications with Rigalio and Thompson. “Unfortunately it might be the last for a while, the carrier said this route was becoming too busy.”
“Is that due to international or domestic logistic problems?” I asked
“Domestic, but you'd have to ask Macalary for the details.”
“What on earth are you two talking about?” Jeanine asked with a look of amusement.
“Shipping Christmas presents, of course.” I lied.
“Well,” She laughed “you sound like part of a bad spy movie.”
“I don't look very good in a bow tie.” I told her as I contemplated the information given to me. Macalary was referring to one Admiral Macalary, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. He had been the voice of dissension that had caused us to lose several major cities. The military was sharply divided because he and a few others refused to recognize Thompson's authority as Commander in Chief. If Intel was going to be frozen, that could only mean that he was starting to suspect Rigalio and Thompson were aiding the Resistance. In his mind the Resistance was committing acts of aggression against enemy combatants and inhibiting the military in their role. Unfortunately, thus far he had not acted against the PLA in a major way, instead choosing to mass forces and bide their time while civilians died and the Chinese cemented their foothold on the coastal cities.
His hesitation was nothing more than a political ploy, a ruse to deny Thompson the confidence of the people. Already the Resistance fighters in New York had cleared every Chinese fighter within a hundred miles. Fighters were able to mount an offensive from San Francisco to take back Oakland. All this done without any verifiable aid from the US military, and yet he hid behind the mountains biding his time. He was right to suspect Rigalio of collaborating with us, in fact he was playing into our hands. A plan was already in motion to unveil his intentions while sustaining the fewest possible military casualties.
The mail I received from Thompson that night was startling. An undisclosed surveillance network had been tasked with trailing Macalary and anyone he was known to associate with. Only a week prior, satellite images showed Commander Ropas, the vice chairmen of the JCOS, meeting with suspected Chinese officers fifty miles off of the Oregon coast. The Intel indicated that some kind of information exchange had occurred. The only active investigation that Chiefs had commissioned, in a contentious vote, was pertaining to our whereabouts. Whatever Ropas had found out, he had sold to the PLA for god-knows what in return.
All direct communication would cease immediately. Our extraction team and air support would remain on standby, under the assumption that they had been dedicated to the President's personal security. She had moved the Capitol to Seattle for her protection and ours. Rigalio was unsure if additional reinforcements were even possible.
