by Schow, Ryan
“What do you mean, the SAA laid waste to the town?” Zheng asked, perking up, his eyes no longer on Quan’s weapon.
“This convoy is on the 503 as we speak,” Tong warned him.
“Have you confirmed this?” Zheng asked, looking directly at Kun.
“I’m hearing things from the field now,” Kun said. “So far they are unconfirmed, but that doesn’t mean this man is lying.”
“Go confirm them then!” Zheng roared. “NOW!”
Kun turned and left before Quan even knew what happened. Looking at Zheng, Quan said, “If you would like me to handle this situation right now, it would be my great honor to do so.”
Da Xiao Zheng touched the front of Quan’s weapon, slowly lowering it. He then said, “I’d like to hear what he has to say for himself, and about the SAA, and then you can dispose of him, or maybe, depending on what he says, I will do it myself. But not in my office. Perhaps in a toilet, one that’s not flushed.”
“This asshole is right,” Steve growled, his eyes angry, but hurt from Zheng’s fist. “The SAA made their way up through California, ran into Resistance in Five Falls, then got to Portland. And hopefully, they’ll be here anytime.”
“Tell me about Five Falls,” Da Xiao Zheng said calmly, not taking the bait.
“The SAA wiped them off the map,” Steve gushed. “Five Falls, Oregon no longer exists.”
“Well at least you’ve brought me some good news,” Zheng said. Then to Quan. “Perhaps we find him a flushed toilet. You can execute him there.”
As Da Xiao Zheng was dismissing them, the intercom buzzed. “We are under attack, sir!” Kun said, stern but not doing a good job of masking his panic.
Outside the window, a helicopter approached, loosing a pair of rockets. Zheng withdrew his pistol, as if it would do any good. Seconds later, the building shook under their feet, the drywall cracking, the dust of it raining down from the ceiling.
Zheng returned to his desk, slammed his pistol in the wood surface, then punched the intercom’s button and said, “Shoot that damn chopper down!”
Da Xiao Zheng spun and looked right at Steve. He reached for his weapon, but Quan took charge first.
“Down on your knees!” Quan roared.
Steve lowered his head, complied.
Da Xiao Zheng punched the intercom button again and said, “Move us to full alert and roll out counter measures!”
Mortar rounds were hitting farther up, along the valley floor. Zheng depressed the intercom’s button, then pressed it again a second later and said, “And you had better find a way to turn our defensive measures into a full scale offensive by the time I get there or this will be your head!”
“Yes, sir,” Kun said after Zheng let go of the buzzer.
And you”—Zheng said to Quan as he walked out from behind his desk—“I appreciate your initiative, but it’s time to go.”
“In light of the circumstances, and not to take any unnecessary risks,” Quan said, “I would like to execute this man on the spot.”
Da Xiao Zheng looked back to the pistol on his desk, almost like he wanted to say something, or perhaps do it himself.
Quan had the barrel of the gun pressed to Steve’s bowed head. Another direct strike shook the building, entire pieces of drywall now dropping around them. Quan racked the slide, returned the pistol to Steve’s head. If he pulled the trigger right then, the bullet would sever the brainstem.
“Sir,” Quan said, “do I have permission to execute the prisoner?”
“You do,” Zheng finally said.
With that, Quan lifted the weapon and shot Zheng in the leg. The outer door instantly opened; Tong shot the two guards, and the two guards after that. Zheng was screaming bloody murder, hopping on his leg toward his pistol.
Tong turned and shot Zheng in the ass, knocking him over, just out of reach of the weapon. Pulling out the sat phone and dialing quickly, Quan waited for the connection, got it, then said to Logan, “Zheng is down.” He immediately hung up, then turned to Da Xiao Zheng and said, “Call the President.”
“I will not!” Zheng said through gritted teeth and enraged eyes. There was blood on the carpet, and so much heat in the man’s wicked gaze he could have lit half a dozen candles off the surface of his eyeballs alone.
Zheng reached up for the weapon; Quan shot his left hand.
“Call him!”
“No!” he growled, tears standing in his eyes as he cradled his injured hand. Steve stood slowly, his eyes on Zheng the entire time. When his hands came around to his sides, unrestricted by zip-ties or any other means of restraint, Zheng’s surprised expression lay bare for everyone in the office to see.
“Call him,” Steve said, repeating Quan’s orders.
He walked up to the desk, grabbed Zheng’s pistol and turned it over, giving it a thoughtful look. He flipped the weapon in his hand, caught it by the barrel, then grabbed Zheng by the hair and wrenched his head back.
“You’re going to call him one way or the other,” Steve hissed. Then he struck the man’s teeth with the butt of the pistol so hard, most of them shattered, causing Zheng to shoot forward and start coughing out bloody bits of broken enamel. The moaning that followed was the same kind of moaning you’d hear from a cow birthing her calf.
“We can do this all day, Zheng,” Tong said, walking up to him. “But your empire is falling, your future is dim, and the only difference between an honorable death and what we have planned for you if you do not cooperate, is pain. An unending, unrelenting amount of pain.”
Quan handed him the phone and said, “Make the call.”
He finally relented. The line rang through and a moment later, the President said, “What is it, Zheng?”
Quan stood taller, took a breath, then said, “Hello, President Hu, my name is Quan Li and you killed my family. Before you offer any rebuttal, I want you to know I served you in the Army faithfully, long enough to turn the tides on this war to my benefit and your detriment.”
Hu began to laugh. “Is this some kind of a joke?” he thundered. Going from zero to one hundred miles per hour in seconds flat, the President said, “Put Da Xiao Zheng on the line!”
“You will have a chance to speak with him in a moment,” Quan said, calm. “He’s currently coughing up a mouthful of broken teeth.”
“Do you think I care about what’s happening to America?” Hu said, his tone changing, sounding almost dismissive.
Looking down, he saw the phone’s screen was now asking for permission to make this a video call. Quan accepted the request, found himself face-to-face with the President. He did not let this rattle him.
“The SAA is about to overtake Yale, and after that, the American Resistance will step in and finish them,” Quan said confidently. “Whatever armaments are left will be ours. We’ve taken control of the ports, destroyed your boats and killed most of the men there. And we’re just a handful of Chicom defectors and Americans. But this country is rallying and there will be more of us rising up to kill off the rest of you when word of our victory spreads.”
“I am not afraid of you,” President Hu said, heavy shadows on his face.
“We have Da Xiao Zheng right now, we have Yale, and we’re about to take out two forces in one fatal strike. If these are your best men, and they have failed, then I dare you to send more you vile, communist pig.”
“I have infinite resources,” Hu snarled, “but I’m sure you know that.”
“Over here, all you have is cannon fodder. If one Chicom sets foot in this country, just one, we will mobilize a slaughter party the likes of which no one in your position has ever seen.”
“This is comical,” Hu retorted, his tone clipped.
“The US military has been called back from all their useless wars. Your spies there were found and executed. And our men on the East Coast have wiped out the EU and the African Army. Your network is dead. Your officers are about to be dead. And this spy grid and infiltration you worked thirty years to develop? I mean,
do I really need to say it?”
“As you know,” Hu said, playing the only card he had, “I have the US President.”
“Yes, well he was weak. He capitulated to you like the traitorous bitch that he was. He was someone you bought and sold for this plan, your failed American adventure. But he was NOT American, and he was NOT a true patriot.”
“He is here nevertheless,” Hu spat.
Two armed men opened the door. Tong shot them both, then pushed the bodies outside, shut the door, and tried again to lock it.
“The President is currently hanging from a lamp post,” Quan said, letting Hu know the game was over, that the Chicoms had lost. “All the stooges you placed in positions of power—in D.C., the US media, Hollywood, the colleges, the bio-tech companies—they will all be rounded up and properly disposed of. After this is over, I will see to that personally. Rather, I’m going to let the Americans see to that, for it’s their country you have decimated.”
“Good for you,” Hu said, resorting to the edge of a tantrum. “I have no use for them anyway. All those traitors to their country…let them swallow their fate in the form of a bullet. I don’t care. No one likes your traitors anyway.”
“The Americans like them when they’re on the receiving end of that bullet. I’m sure they’d like to know who sold their country out, that way they can deliver a message that’s both firm and swift.”
“And what message is that?” Hu asked.
“That communists are no longer allowed in this country, and our politicians will need to serve a greater purpose than to bow to you or your sick ideals. They will be beholden to the new America, the Constitutional America, a country that will no longer deal with you or any other communist party on this planet. That’ll be the message. Consider this a sneak peek.”
“My meal is getting cold,” Hu said, “so if there’s anything else…”
In the background, down in the valley below, the war was getting closer, the earth shaking with the sounds of heavy machinery and death cannons. Hu registered none of that. He only knew wrath.
“Do you have any last words for Da Xiao Zheng?” Quan asked, trying to touch a nerve.
It worked. The man flew into a sudden fit of rage. “I will bring the full weight and force of the Chinese Republic to bear on you if you harm a single hair on his head!”
Quan looked at Steve with a raised eyebrow. The American born patriot was now holding a small paring knife, one he’d snuck in with him. Steve gave the nod. He was ready. Quan then turned the phone’s camera on Steve and Da Xiao Zheng.
Wasting no time, Steve stabbed the man twice in the traps, right near the base of his neck, then grabbed a fistful of hair and began carving a line all around the edge of the man’s face. Zheng’s screaming was shrill, guttural, blood curdling.
Hu was screaming on the other end, pitching the mother of fits, even as the war reached their very walls. A mortar round hit near the base of the building, causing the floor to shift and crack. But Steve was not done. He then used the knife’s edge to scrape the man’s face away from his skull, finally ripping the entire mask of it off. All that was left was a small patch of skin on what remained of Da Xiao Zheng’s nose.
“Your country will be an ash heap when I’m done with it!” Hu bellowed.
Steve looked right in the camera at Hu and said, “For your retaliation, President Hu, my name will be important. You’ll want to know who I am.”
“You will be the first one I personally gut!”
Holding Zheng’s face in his hand, he said, “I look forward to that day. My name is Steve Daily. I speak for myself and on behalf of all of America when I say you can kiss my American ass, not on the right and not on the left, but right in the middle. You will never set foot in this country and leave it alive. Do you hear me, you stinking communist rat? Do you understand?”
The President was floored, suddenly rendered speechless.
“But if you should come to America, if you want to find this man, Zheng, this is where he’ll be!” With that, Steve flung the man’s peeled-off face straight up at the ceiling where, surprisingly, it hit with the wet side and stuck.
Quan raised the phone, showed Hu the skin. But when Quan looked back down at the screen, Hu was gone. He tossed the phone away, then looked at Steve and said, “Did that just happen?”
Tong was speechless.
As if on cue, half of Zheng’s face started to peel away from the ceiling, and then it all fell down on the floor like a wet raspberry crepe.
Quan looked over at Zheng, who was still alive, but barely aware of anything. He’d gone into shock. He walked over to the man, put his gun to Zheng’s head and said, “For my family, and for every other Chinese family you destroyed.” Zheng was not aware of anything at that point. So when Quan pulled the trigger, he felt none of his hate recede.
“We need to go,” Tong said. “We need to make sure the Chicoms inflict as much damage on the SAA as possible.”
“Shouldn’t we get out of the way?” Quan asked. “Let them kill each other, unbidden?”
“I’ll get to the command center,” Tong said. “But Kun might have dispatched snipers to the roof, where we came from. You need to get there, take them out when I tell you, then provide cover for your people.”
“And until then?” Steve asked.
“It’s your guys’ job to see that the war persists. Do not let the other side get an advantage. That way we can marshal all their resources rather than ours.”
“When will we hear from you?” Quan asked.
“I’m going to tell Kun that you and Steve killed Da Xiao Zheng, and that he’s now in charge of the Chicom Army. He’ll be upset and pleased in equal measures, I’m sure. As for hearing from me…when the tide begins to turn one way or the other. Until then, we let the armies do all the heavy lifting.”
They split up, Quan and Steve returning to the stairwell, and then the roof. The war had officially begun, which changed the landscape of the roof, as Tong had mentioned. There were now four snipers in position—two they saw the second they opened the rooftop access door, and two more on the other side of the box. Only one of the snipers looked up because they would not have ever imagined their HQ could be breached by a few veritable lunatics. Still in full uniform, Quan gave the man a nod. The sniper went back to his scope, unconcerned.
Looking out over the long valley below, now the field of battle, Quan saw two armies engaged in a full scale war. It was a beautiful sight to see.
Backing up into the stairwell, all but closing the door, he used the sat phone to dial Logan. When the man answered, Quan said, “Did you get the convoy successfully?”
“That’s an affirmative.”
“Any casualties?” Quan asked.
“Not on our side,” Logan said. “Sounds like the party started.”
“As promised,” Quan said with a smile.
“We’re almost in position,” Logan informed him. “I’ll call you when we’re there.”
“Roger that,” Quan said, then hung up.
Chapter Twenty-One
Later that night, with no signs of the war dying down, Quan and Steve held their positions. Which was to say, they left the roof door cracked open as they sat on the stairwell, sweating. Tong had been in touch, but the snipers hadn’t moved. They had tons of ammo and were prone, taking out targets where they could. Quan heard from Logan an hour ago. The crews from Five Falls, Roseburg and Portland were ready to go on Quan’s orders. Just before the last light of day, Tong met them in the stairwell, looking weary but definitely in the fight.
“Are you fresh enough to take the evening position?” Tong asked. Quan knew exactly what that meant.
“Yes,” he said, feeling renewed.
Tong looked at Steve and said, “Can you fire a sniper rifle?”
“I’m surgical,” the American said.
“Good,” Tong replied. Peeking out the door onto the rooftop, he unholstered his weapon. To Quan, Tong turned and said, “
You take the two shooters you see, Steve and I will hit the two we can’t see from here. Steve, you take the nearest one and I’ll take the farthest one. Clear?”
“Clear,” both men said.
Quan pushed the door open and walked out on the roof with purpose. Steve and Tong circled around the rooftop access structure. Quan had his weapon trained on the farthest shooter, who was twenty yards away, easy; he waited a beat, then fired the first round.
A spray of red misted off the bucking head. The second sniper looked over, took a round above his right eye. His head flopped down, too.
Tong appeared and said, “Both targets are down and we have plenty of ammo. You and Steve set up here for now. I’ll bring food and water as it’s rationed out, and then we’ll kick this thing off at first light.”
“The fighting won’t end just because the sun goes down,” Quan said.
“No, but victory will be neither ours nor theirs until tomorrow or the next day,” he said. “Best to get some sleep now, if you can. That way you’ll be fresh come sunrise.”
“What’s the assessment so far?” Quan asked.
“Twenty percent of our resources are either broken or about to be broken. Same with the SAA, if your estimations about their convoy were correct.”
“They were,” Quan said. “They are.”
“By the night, we’ll both take and lose between five to ten percent more. But tomorrow…now that’s when we really get underway.”
Quan nodded his head as Tong’s face began to split with a smile.
“What?” Quan asked.
“After years of planning,” Tong mused, “we’re finally here.”
“Yes we are,” Quan said, taking an emotional victory lap.
“Your boy, Steve,” Tong said, shaking his head. “Man, he’s something else. Can you believe Zheng’s face actually stuck to the ceiling? That’s one for the history books.”
“That right there was divine intervention,” Quan said. “Or maybe it was good luck. Either way, there’s something about that kid I really like.”
“Don’t let him get killed then,” Tong said. “I’ll get you some food here in a bit. Water, too.”
