Apache Dawn: Book I of the Wildfire Saga (83 page)

“Yes, the Professor.”
 
The Colonel crossed his arms.
 
“I don’t know the man,” he shrugged.
 
“But hey, we’ll put the word out.
 
We’ve lost a lot of good people to this damn flu.
 
Must be half the town is in bed sick, now.
 
From what we can tell it’s really taking a toll out west.”
 
He shook his head.
 
“Damn Koreans.”

“Hey!
 
Everybody shaddup!” someone shouted.
 
A radio was turned on in the background.
 
“It’s the new President!”

“—
likely know all too well, we are beset by a host of trials: the North Korean invasion of the West Coast, the starvation and suffering of our people across the land, and above all, the influenza which is gripping our nation and sickening so many of us
.”

Cooper set his cup down and leaned over the map, willing the location of the Professor to appear to him.
 
He stared at the labyrinth of streets as he listened to his new commander in chief.

“Let me assure you, I will not rest until we as a people have utterly destroyed each of these threats.
 
In order to do this, we must have a functioning government again, not the tyrannical boondoggle that has been created by Vice President Barron.”

“Preachin’ to the choir, brother,” muttered Charlie.

The President’s voice rose in strength: “
He illegally seized power in a time of national emergency to advance his twisted political ambition—this runs counter to everything our founding fathers fought and bled for, and insults the sacrifice that every patriot in uniform has made for this country since the Revolution
. “
 

Cooper looked up at the men gathered around the radio.
 
Modern day Minutemen.
 
Scions of the Revolution.
 
He grinned.

“I will not stand for this affront to our liberties and will stop at nothing to bring this criminal and his conspirators to justice!”

“Colonel, thank you for the refreshments.
 
I think it’s time me and my boys get on with our mission.
 
You’ve seen the radios and gear we brought…?”

“Yes, thank you, Lieutenant.
 
We’ll put them to good use.
 
I’ve already started to distribute the good stuff to the boys in the field.
 
You be sure to spread the word about us and what we’re doing when you get back to…wherever you came from.”

“Will do, sir.”
 
Cooper picked up his rifle.
 
His Team gathered gear and put their game faces on.
 
“Let’s go find us a professor, boys.”

Y
OU
SON
OF
A
bitch!
” hissed Harold James Barron, President of the United states, as he listened to Orren Harris, President of the United States.
 
Harold was lying on a bed, draped in sheets and blankets that bore the Presidential Seal and were far too heavy to be comfortable.
 
He lay there sweating through President Harris’s speech.
 
Harold was too weak—no thanks to
Jayne
—to lift an arm and shut off the damn radio.

Jayne left it on…bitch did that on purpose
, he groused to himself.

“
To that end,
” continued that
imposter’s
voice.
 
“
I am hereby declaring that in Denver, a new seat of power shall be established during the current crisis.
 
I urge any and all military units and commanders who are loyal to the Constitution and to the America of your birth—join us, as we formulate a strategy to take back our country.
 
Patriot forces are growing daily in number as more and more of our brothers and sisters in arms throw off the shackles of Mr. Barron’s illegal reign and join the fight.”

“Stupid…
sanctimonious
…stuck-up…” Harold sputtered in an impotent rage.
 
“
Arrrghh!
” he roared in frustration, unable to move.
 
She left me so weak…her and Reginald
, he fumed in silence.

“Our brave men and women in uniform, scattered now around the globe, fighting for your very lives, now have a new mission.
 
Get home.
 
Get to Denver.
 
Take back your country.
 
I, as your Commander-in-Chief, therefore order each and every one of you to take control of whatever assets you can and make all speed for home. “

“Well isn’t
that
nice,” Harold spat.
 

“Commandeer aircraft and fly, capture boats and sail—steal a submarine—I don’t care, just come home.
 
Leave nothing but scorched earth in your wake.
 
I will not tolerate countries around the world rejoicing over our misfortune, after this great nation has done so much, for so many, for so long.
 
Leave your bases and destroy anything you can’t take with you…”

“So help me, when I get out of this
bed
—when I’ve dealt with Jayne and Reginald—you…are…next!” screamed the bed-ridden President.

C
AP
,
SOMEONE
WAS
DEFINITELY
here,” called out Zuka.
 
He was across the airfield by an open hangar.
 
The small airfield was evidently for private planes—the hangars were far too small for even a single-seater fighter jet.

Captain Alston walked away from the burned husk of the stolen Apache and the body of the blond pilot laying on the ground.
 
She was stone cold dead and had been so for a while, judging by the number of flies on her corpse.
 

Captain Alston had been happy to track the transponder on the Apache thanks to the geeks at NORAD, but the trail went cold here in Iowa.
 
It had been a long journey from Salmon Falls, jumping from civilian airport to civilian airport with a couple Ospreys and a squad of Marines on loan.
 
But they were getting close to finding where Chad went.
 
He could feel it.

“Look,” said Deuce, holding up an empty ammo can.
 
“Russian
.”
 
He tossed it to the Captain and went rummaging around inside the hanger.

“All kinds of maps and shit in there, too.
 
Definitely
Ivan,” said Zuka.

Captain Alston looked up from the ammo can in his hands with Cyrillic letters and watched the squad of Marines enter the adjoining hangars looking for clues.
 
The two Ospreys assigned to his mission by the Commandant himself were idling at the far end of the runway, the flight crews already hooking up fuel tanks for their next jump.

“Captain!
 
Think you ought to hear this…” said Deuce from inside the darkened hangar.

As he approached, Captain Alston could hear the radio Deuce was playing with broadcasting a speech:

“You are hereby authorized to use whatever force you and your officers deem necessary to get home.
 
Do what it takes and destroy anyone or anything that gets in your way.
 
If you can hear my voice, know this: You are on your own until you reach American soil.
 
Just get home!”

“The hell is
that?
” asked Zuka.

“
New
President,” said Deuce.

“Turn it up,” said Captain Alston.

“I want to urge the good people of America to heed well President Denton’s dying wish to rise-up against Mr. Barron and his European Allies.
 
As much as we appreciate the generosity and support of our European friends, we as a nation grow more and more apprehensive over what is taking place in our cities.
 

“The United Nations is sending more and more security personnel to patrol American cities—cities where the Constitution of the United States no longer is the supreme law of the land!
 
Yes, I said it!
 
It is abundantly clear that the United Nations is and has been in an alliance with Mr. Barron for some time.”

There was a dramatic pause and Captain Alston found himself holding his breath.
 
When the new President’s voice returned, it was quieter, more constrained.
 
More dangerous.
 
“It is unthinkable that a bloated and incompetent organization such as the United Nations could have acted with such speed and coordination as they have shown, without extensive preparation in advance.
 

“Now—I know—you and I have heard all the excuses—the riots in the cities are forcing World Health Organization doctors to ask for military escorts.
 
Food distribution locations have been mobbed.
 
People are stealing from one another.
 
While there have been disturbances in many of our larger cities, it is clear to me that these are merely thinly-veiled excuses to increase a military presence.
 
For truly, this large an international operation could not have been anything but pre-meditated.
 
In my book, my fellow Americans, that’s an invasion—an act of war.”

“That President Harris?” asked a Marine Lieutenant, trotting in from outside.
 
“We’ve been picking up his speech out there—well, the pilots have.
 
It’s on every channel for public broadcast.”
 

Captain Alston raised a hand for silence.
 

“You good people of New York, Philadelphia, Boston, and all the other occupied cities, fear not—we will not forget you, we will not fail you, will not give up until we have pushed all the invaders—from whatever country they hail—back into the Atlantic…”

“Sir!” cried Zuka, behind an overturned crate.
 
He stood up holding a partially unfolded, well-used map.

Captain Alston took the map and looked at the title: Street Map of Charleston, South Carolina.
 
He looked up at Zuka.
 
“This is it,” he said.

“How you figure, sir?” asked the Marine.

Captain Alston turned around.
 
“You know those little towns the Russians have been conquering in the south?
 
They’re all marked on this map.”
 
He held it up and showed the Marine the little red circles around the cities unfortunate enough to be under Russian control.

He spun his hand over his head.
 
As his Rangers began to file out and run for the Ospreys, he called in the news.
 

“Overwatch, Hammer 2, Actual.
 
The package is being delivered to Charleston, South Carolina.
 
I say again
, the package is being delivered to Charleston, South Carolina!
 
We are moving to intercept, requesting immediate assistance…”

D
ENNY
PUT
DOWN
HIS
rifle and picked up his binoculars.
 
He was lying on a ridge to the north of town, peering down on the scrub brush that dominated the landscape north of Salmon Falls.
 
After the Battle, the last of the Russians had fled north, hoping to escape the wrath of the citizen-soldiers in the wilderness of Idaho’s Bitterroot Mountains.

“Picked the wrong town to fuck with, Ivan,” Denny muttered, watching the small figures jump and run in the bushes.
 
He shook his head.
 

Damn near the entire town hunts big game here.
 
We can track and shoot, probably better than the Russians.
 
You don’t stand a chance, now that we’ve got momentum.

He squeezed his throat mic, a parting gift of Captain Alston and the Marines who came to hunt down Chad.
 
“I got my group.
 
Just north of town.
 
They’re heading toward the river.”

“Okay, Denny.
 
We’ll come west and head ‘em off
,” replied the voice of Ansel Johnson.
 
“
Oh, you might want to turn on your radio.
 
New President making a speech.
 
Right up your alley.
”

“Okay,” said Denny.
 
He turned on the small radio in his pack and inserted the earbud. He really only carried it for entertainment should he get stranded somewhere on a hunt.
 
It only needed one AAA battery and was about as big as his pinky finger.
 
He had no trouble finding the speech—it was on every station that was still broadcasting.

“To the Sons of Liberty, to the good people of Salmon Falls, to anyone out there that is struggling under the yoke of oppression, I have a special message:
 
Do not give up the fight!
 
We will support you in any way possible.”

Well, that’s cool.
 
At least someone out there knows about us now…
 

Denny picked up his binoculars and went back to watching the Russians fleeing for their lives.
 
One suddenly jerked sideways mid-jump and fell, lifeless, into a bush.
 
A few heartbeats later, the echo of a rifle shot rolled across the valley floor and reached his ears.