“I want to talk to you before you leave tonight, okay?” he said.
Dom nodded.
“Your word?”
“Yes, Dad.”
Ronaldo headed out on the mountain bike. He hated leaving his family like this, but he couldn’t miss the patrol.
By the time he got to Downey High, the teams of soldiers and marines had their new orders from Marks, who had received a battlefield promotion to gunnery sergeant.
“You’re late, Sergeant Salvatore,” Marks said.
“Sorry, Gunny. I was trying to talk to Dom.”
“How’d his first night go?” Tooth asked. He lit a hand-rolled cigarette.
“Didn’t get much out of him. He said something about a drive-by, and he saw the border wall going up.”
“That’s probably where we’ll be assigned next,” Bettis said.
“So back to square one with babysitting refugees, like Atlanta?” Tooth grumped. “I want to get in the action, man. Head north and take Oregon back from AMP.”
“You just might get your chance for some action today,” Marks said. “We’re on mop-up duty.”
The marines walked across the lot, toward the vehicles parked along the fence around the football field. A dozen AMP prisoners were confined there. They lay in the dirt, curled up in their black uniforms. But they weren’t all sleeping.
“Brother, can I have a smoke, please?” one of the men said.
Tooth looked at Ronaldo. “You believe this dumb ’tard?” he muttered.
He started off toward the fences.
“Tooth,” Marks called after him.
The younger marine didn’t listen. He bent down at the fence and took another drag, savoring it. Then he blew the smoke in the man’s face. “There you go, brother.”
“Kid never learns,” Bettis said, shaking his head.
Walking past, Ronaldo made eye contact with the AMP soldier. The guy was middle-aged, probably Marks’s age. Ronaldo wondered briefly about his background, whether he had kids, a wife.
Whether he had killed marines.
Ronaldo spat in the dirt. These bastards had killed many of his brothers. It was still hard to believe that this had happened in America, where the military had sworn an oath to uphold and defend the Constitution.
Ronaldo got into the back seat of the Humvee with Bettis. Tooth took the wheel, and Marks rode shotgun.
“All teams are headed to locations where reports indicate AMP soldiers may be hiding,” Marks said.
“We’re on our own?” Ronaldo asked. “Who wrote this bullshit OPORD?”
“Not me,” Marks said. “I wanted us all together, but we’re one of the only platoons in this area. If you thought Helmand was rough, think again. We’re stuck with a single fire team doing the work a platoon would normally handle.”
“So, where are we going and what are we doing?” Bettis asked.
“Movement to contact,” Marks replied. “We’re headed back to Anaheim.”
Tooth grinned wide, as if to show off his fangs. “Moppin’ up AMP—great way to start my day.”
The other teams pulled out of the parking lot in their vehicles, off on their own missions. “Good to have you back on the Desert Snakes,” Bettis said to Ronaldo.
“It’s great to be back, brother. Guess I’m lucky Marks here got that promotion.”
“Still had to convince the colonel,” said Marks. “But I mentioned you were probably the very first marine to shoot an AMP soldier.”
“So now I started all this?” Ronaldo asked. “Thanks for nothing, Gunny.”
The image of that AMP gunner in the Black Hawk, slaughtering civilians, would be forever etched onto his brain. Ronaldo didn’t feel a shred of regret for shooting the murdering scumbag.
The sun peeked over the rolling hills. The raging wildfires had turned the eastern sky the color of an infected wound. The Santa Ana winds were finishing what AMP had begun. Palm trees swayed in the smoky breeze, and ash drifted down onto the straggling line of refugees along the shoulder.
They wore bandannas or rags across their faces, but Ronaldo knew they would be coughing up black gunk for days. Even inside the air-filtered Humvee, he tasted soot with every breath.
The sight of newcomers flooding into eastern Los Angeles County prompted another memory of Atlanta. But unlike the migrants on the road weeks ago, these poor wretches were on their last legs—paler, thinner. Desperate.
Ronaldo sighed, but not as discreetly as he had intended.
“You good?” Marks asked.
“Yeah, Gunny.”
“Well, I’m not,” Tooth said. “This shit is fucked up. It’s like a shit volcano that just keeps growing. And eventually, the volcano is gonna blow, bro, and the shit is gonna fly into the sky, covering us all in more shit when it comes back down.”
Bettis shook his head. “What are you even talking about?”
Tooth took one hand off the wheel to make a sweeping operatic gesture. “Dude, everything is turning to shit.”
“Yeah, I get it. I just don’t understand your way of explaining the situation.”
Tooth shrugged. “Sorry I don’t talk like Shakespeare or the pope.”
“You don’t need to talk like the pope, dude,” Bettis replied. “Just throw in a little English.”
Ronaldo cracked a half grin at the exchange, but as soon as they pulled off the highway, he snapped into combat mode.
“Get ready,” Marks said.
Each man charged his weapon as Tooth drove into a lawless zone of abandoned apartment blocks, the shells of stores, and boarded-up fast-food joints.
Cars sat on cinder blocks, stripped down to the chassis. The ash-laden wind blew trash through shattered windows. And permeating everything was the stench of raw sewage.
Ronaldo was inured to the smell by now, but with the lack of potable water, this was a textbook recipe for cholera. He had seen it in Iraq, and as in war, the children were always the most vulnerable. The danger of disease was now almost as big a threat as flying bullets.
He knocked on his helmet twice for good luck as they arrived at their target: a four-story apartment building surrounded by trees and fences. The area looked abandoned by all but a few homeless people, pushing everything they owned along the sidewalk.
“Intel said several AMP soldiers are hiding on the top floor,” Marks said.
“Several?” Ronaldo asked. It wasn’t like Marks to be vague with critical mission details.
“That’s all I have, guys. Like I said, Helmand was Club Med compared to this bullshit.”
Tooth parked them behind a building across the street and killed the engine. The men got out, rifles shouldered.
“Eyes up,” Marks said. “On me.”
They set out moving fast and low in two-man teams, hugging the side of the building. At the corner, they ran across to a parking lot of more stripped cars. Marks stopped to scan the top windows of the building before flashing hand signals.
Ronaldo and Tooth took point, moving toward the back of the building through a gap in the chain-link fence.
A feral cat darted away from the stairway and vanished into the brush. The exit door was broken off its hinges. Ronaldo slipped into the dark hallway beside an open stairwell door. Tooth came in tight behind him, sweeping for contacts. The place reeked of piss, but nothing moved.
The door to each apartment was either open or missing. Ronaldo moved forward, sweeping the first doorway with his muzzle. Bettis and Marks were posted at the stairwell. On Marks’s signal, Ronaldo moved up the shadowy stairwell with Tooth behind him.
Careful not to kick any debris, they cleared each landing and hallway before moving up to the next level. Bettis and Marks held rear guard, crouching at the top of the stairwell.
The top floor was only two apartments, one on either si
de of the hallway. The fire team breached both doors simultaneously, and Tooth moved inside first. Ronaldo was right on his six, checking the near corner and running his wall.
In the trash-strewn living room were two filthy mattresses. Ronaldo cleared the back bedrooms and bathroom.
“Clear,” he said.
Across the hallway, Marks and Bettis were stacked by the door, rifles up.
Ronaldo and Tooth watched their exit route while Marks led the breach-and-clear of the second apartment. He and Bettis came back a few seconds later.
“Looks like they already jumped ship,” Marks said.
“Damn, I was hoping to put my foot up some asses today,” Tooth said.
“Want to double-check the other floors?” Ronaldo asked. “Just in case?”
Marks nodded. “Yeah, we better be sure.”
They moved back to the third floor. It was still empty, with no new signs of activity. The second was no different. Finally, they reached the ground floor, where Ronaldo discovered an old guy in a back bedroom. He was wearing a pair of torn sweatpants and sleeping on a bare mattress.
“Show me your hands!” Ronaldo said.
The guy bolted up, raising hands covered in fingerless gloves. He opened a mouth of few teeth.
“Whoa, don’t shoot!” he shouted.
Ronaldo walked into the room and gasped at the eye-watering reek of a body unwashed for months. Stepping over a syringe and a bent spoon on the floor, he scanned the room.
The other marines walked in behind him, and Tooth raised his sleeve to his nose.
“How long you been staying here?” Ronaldo asked.
The junkie shivered but managed to keep his hands in the air. “Few weeks, maybe. I … I don’t know, man. I lost track of time.”
“Did you see any AMP soldiers at any point?”
The old man nodded.
“Where did they go?”
“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” He lowered one hand to scratch an open sore on his chest, and Ronaldo let him. The only threat this guy posed was his smell.
“When did they leave?” Marks asked.
“Middle of the night. I only know because they told me to get out if I knew what was best.”
Ronaldo exchanged a glance with Marks.
“They say why?” Tooth asked.
The guy pointed at the pack of smokes in Tooth’s breast pocket.
“I don’t give information away for free.”
Tooth laughed. “I’ll give you a cig if you tell us everything you know.”
“Two.”
“Half a cig.”
The junkie frowned. “Fine, one.”
Tooth held out a smoke, then pulled it back from the man’s reach. “First, tell us what you know.”
“I heard them talking about an attack,” said the old man. “Beyond that, not much else.”
Marks and Ronaldo shared a look. “Could be legit,” Marks said.
“Or bullshit,” Bettis said.
The junkie reached out again, and Tooth finally gave him the cigarette.
“Thank you,” he said, bringing it to his lips. “Been a long time.”
They left him there and headed back to the FOB. As soon as they arrived, Marks decided to relay the intel in person rather than risk letting the AMP pukes listen in on their frequencies. Once they got back to the FOB, he jumped out of the truck and left Ronaldo with Bettis and Tooth.
“You think that junkie was telling the truth?” Bettis asked.
“One thing I’ve learned is ‘never trust a junkie,’” Tooth said.
They passed around a canteen and another cigarette as they waited. One by one, the other teams returned, some of them with AMP soldiers in handcuffs.
Half an hour later, Marks came back with their new orders. He was halfway across the parking lot when the ground shook.
“Shit, it’s an earthquake,” Ronaldo said.
The smoking cigarette fell out of Tooth’s mouth, and he brought his hand up to shield his eyes as a light brighter than the sun ballooned up in the distance to the south.
“That ain’t no quake, brother,” Tooth said.
The flash died away, leaving a cloud like a tall, spindly cauliflower.
Ronaldo stepped back and squinted at the massive and growing mushroom cloud in the south. Marines and soldiers in the parking lot watched in stunned silence.
“Oh, dear God,” Bettis said. “Where is that?”
“San Diego,” Ronaldo replied, feeling sick. “No, wait, I think that’d be about—”
“Camp Pendleton,” Marks said. “North end of San Diego County.”
“That can’t be,” said Bettis.
“Why?” Ronaldo said. “The governor’s probably in a bunker there. Using a nuke was a sure way to kill him and get rid of a lot of marines.”
“Feckin’ gobshites!” snarled Tooth in an unfeigned Irish lilt. “That’s why the AMP soldiers took off in the middle of the night. They knew it was coming.”
“There is no invasion,” Marks said. “Elliot wants to wipe the Marine Corps off the map.”
The words made Ronaldo’s heart pound harder. He pushed past Marks, who grabbed him by the arm.
“Salvatore, where are you going?”
“We have to get people to shelter,” Ronaldo said. “The wind’s still Santa Ana. My family and everyone else in Los Angeles are right in the path of that fallout. It’ll start floating down in five hours, max!”
-18-
Over the wail of distant air-raid sirens came a whine from the future heir of the Moretti empire.
“I don’t wanna leave!” Marco yelled.
Antonio’s glare silenced the boy. Lucia came down the mansion’s grand stairway, holding a bag of jewelry and other valuables. Wearing a fur coat, three jewel-studded gold necklaces, and diamond earrings, she looked like a queen. And soon enough, she would have her castle.
Antonio took the bag from her and helped her down the last two stairs.
“Please hurry,” Raff said in a calm voice, taking Marco by the hand and ushering the family outside. Two Suburbans waited in the driveway, where armed men in suits awaited Rush’s orders.
Antonio felt a pang of sadness at the sight of his wife and son being hurried to the vehicles. It wasn’t the first time they had fled their home, but this time it wasn’t because their enemies had found them.
He looked at the mushroom cloud rising in the southeast. The nuclear blast had advanced the schedule for his next move. They weren’t going far, but the journey would be risky.
From his days in the Alpini, he understood enough about nukes to know that if they didn’t get out of the area soon, the fallout could kill them.
He had protected his wife and son from the ambush in Naples, and he had protected them here from rivals and AMP attacks since the war started. But he couldn’t shield them from the radioactive fallout that a lunatic president and the prevailing winds would bring to Los Angeles only hours from now. And when that happened, all bets for survival would be off.
Things were unraveling around Antonio, with another group of his men ambushed and Vito, his master cocaine cutter, in jail somewhere. He still didn’t know which particular bunch of rat fucks was targeting his family, but the threats were coming from all sides.
“Don Antonio, we’re almost ready,” said Rush. The former AMP sergeant pulled a walkie-talkie from the belt under his suit jacket.
“We need to get moving now,” Antonio said.
Marco looked at him with frightened eyes.
“It’s okay,” Raff said. He helped Marco and Lucia into the vehicle while Antonio did a head count. Lino ran over, and they both realized that Yellowtail was still inside the house.
“God damn it,” Antonio said. He ran back up the drive and loped up the front
steps, stopping when the oak door swung open. Yellowtail limped outside, juggling a bag in one hand while trying to work his crutches.
Antonio took the bag and helped his much younger cousin over to the SUVs.
“Most of the other men and their families are already on their way to the safe house,” Lino said. He opened the driver’s door and got behind the wheel of the Suburban.
Antonio and Raff helped Yellowtail into the back. He winced as he put his crutches down.
With his family secure, Antonio walked around to take shotgun.
“Sir, we’re ready to move,” Rush said. He handed Antonio an M4 and shut the door, then jumped into another vehicle.
“Let’s go,” Antonio said, patting the dashboard twice.
The Suburbans followed two BMWs and a black Mercedes, all packed with his security detail. Antonio looked in the rearview mirror as they pulled out of the driveway. He would miss the mansion, but he had known that it was only temporary.
“Buckle up, everyone,” Lino said.
Antonio looked to the back seat. His son was trying not to look scared, but his wide eyes said otherwise.
Yellowtail kissed his cross as he stared out the window. He insisted on wearing it still, even though it was bent and some of the gold plating was shot off.
Everyone with a car and any gas was leaving this part of the city. While some people had opted to shelter in place, enough were leaving town to choke every road. People without autos rode bicycles, adding to the congestion.
Lino followed the other Suburban and the cars around several stalled vehicles. Horns honked, and pedestrians shouted as the convoy raced by. A biker hit a curb to avoid a car and went over the handlebars.
“Why aren’t we taking the interstate?” Antonio asked.
“Rush says it’s too dangerous,” Lino replied. “Surface streets will be quicker.”
Antonio didn’t like it, but he had chosen his men well and he trusted them. Their job was to keep him safe, and they had done a damn good job so far.
They pulled onto a four-lane street, joining the eastbound exodus.
“Dad, are we going to die?” Marco asked.
The fear in his voice bothered Antonio, not because he felt bad for him, but because his son wasn’t brave. He promised himself that when this was over, if they survived the fallout and the war, he would spend time teaching his son to be a man, just as Christopher had taught Vinny.
Sons of War Page 24
