Eden's War (A Distant Eden) (8 page)

BOOK: Eden's War (A Distant Eden)
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Chapter 12

F
or three days Race, Joan, and Ruth walked across the harsh country, cutting back and forth across Highway 277, talking to at least a dozen people before they found anything of interest.

They’d stopped at a farm and talked to the farmer and his wife. “Just yesterday I was talking to Tom and he told me he’d seen some armed men off in the distance – maybe four or five days ago from the way he talked. You might want to talk to Tom…he lives about five miles that way, old house next to a large granite escarpment.” The farmer pointed to the west.

Two hours later they found Tom. “Sure, I seen em,” he said. “Ten of ’em, I counted. Didn’t like their looks, so I stayed hid. They was about a hunnert yards off. Quiet and sneaky like. Come on I’ll show you.” He led them back behind his house a half a mile and pointed out where he had been, down in a dry wash under some salt cedars. “Right over there.” He pointed.

They walked to the spot he pointed to and found the tracks. Military-style boot prints were still visible, but wind-blown and blurry. “How long ago exactly?” Race asked with a hint of excitement.

“Four days. Was ’bout noon.”

Race thanked the man and immediately she, Ruth, and Joan started following the tracks. They were easy enough to follow most of the time, generally staying parallel to Highway 277 and staying fairly close to it.

“Look.” Race said when they found their campsite. “They’ve cleaned up. No trash and they buried the ashes from their fire. If you didn’t know to look, you’d never notice a thing. Probably from habit, since I don’t think they expect to be followed. They haven’t completely hidden themselves from sight and they’re traveling in daylight, so they must think no one is on to them.”

Ruth said, “How are we going to catch up with them? It takes us longer to work out their tracks than it does for them to make them. We’re falling farther behind every hour.”

Race replied. “We’re going to get some wheels and drive up 277. We’ll stop every now and then and check for tracks. They’ve been tracking Highway 277 since we found them, so I expect they’ll continue like this until they get to San Angelo, then they’ll follow along Highway 208 to Colorado City. We’ll find them on 208, before Colorado City, I think.”

Joan rubbed her short hair and looked around at the desolate country. “Where are we going to get wheels, Race?”

“There must be some around here somewhere. These ranches are remote, they have to have transportation of some kind – at least some of them will. Once we find some, we can talk to the owners. When they understand it’s part of the war effort – if they’ve heard of the war – I think we can get a loan.”

They stopped at three ranches with no luck, but at the third they were given a tip about a man who had a truck and went on to the fourth ranch house It was occupied by an old man who was clearly surprised to see three young women armed with assault rifles approaching his house. “Y’all hold up right there and keep your hands where I can see them,” the old man hollered from a window. A rifle barrel poked from the windows, but the man himself was not visible.

“We’re Texas Rangers and we’re on a war-effort mission sir,” Race shouted back.

“Come on up slowly, but keep those hands in sight,” he yelled back.

They approached slowly, careful with their hands, their rifles slung over their shoulders. The old man had moved to the doorway, rifle at the ready. “Rangers eh? Well they ain’t making Rangers like they used to, that’s for sure. Show me some ID.”

The three women complied, showing their badges. The old man said, “Well hell, those badges don’t mean nothin’. Anyone could make a badge like that. But I believe you anyway. I’ve heard tell of women Rangers and no one would make up a damn fool story like that. Ya’ll come on in out of the sun, sit a spell and tell me what you want.” He turned and walked into the house.

“At war with China eh? Damn shenanigans that’s what that is. Well girls, this is your lucky day. I got a 1950 Chevy pickup truck in the barn. Still runs like a top. My son bought her and fixed her up real nice. He drove her occasionally before he was killed. I start her up once in a while to keep the battery fresh, drive her a mile or so every month to work the moving parts a bit. Got plenty of gasoline in the tank. I’ll let you take her if you promise to bring her back as good as she is now. She ain’t no speed wagon, got the original engine in her. But she’ll cruise along at fifty miles per hour all day. Go much faster than that and it could be bad for her. Probably ain’t another truck like that still running anywhere, damn sure ain’t one around here. Fact is there’s not much of nothing running around here these days. Everyone had those new computer cars, they all got burnt out by that solar storm.”

As they drove off with the three of them crowded into the small cab, Race shook her head. “Can you believe he wrote out a receipt for me to sign? And always said ‘her’ instead of ‘it.’ Bet this truck has a name too, Sally, or Alice, or something. That’s just plain funny.”

The old man hadn’t lied, the truck ran like a top. Every ten miles Race pulled over and they jumped out and looked for tracks. Knowing what they were looking for, it didn’t take them long. The recon patrol had kept a consistent distance from the highway, always keeping it in sight, and they almost always stayed on the left side of it. As soon as they found tracks, the three Rangers would run back to the truck and take off again. After a while they stopped only after fifteen miles, and then only at twenty. When they started getting close to Colorado City they went back to checking every ten miles. The tracks were fresher now and Race was sure the patrol wasn’t far ahead.

“Okay ladies.” Race said as they got back into the truck. “These tracks are fresh, no more than a day old. They still have crisp edges, the wind hasn’t had time to erode them. We’re changing our tactic. We’re going to drive straight through to Colorado City at thirty miles per hour. You two ride in the back and watch the sides of the road very carefully. Keep your weapons out of sight and only your heads above the truck’s sides. They’ll hear us coming and take cover so don’t look for men standing in the open. Watch all of the likely hiding places and look for men peeking out at us. If you see them don’t let on, just pound on the cab after we’re out of sight.”

Moments before they reached the city limits Race pulled over. They all got out of the truck, rifles locked and loaded and slowly walked off the road. They searched thoroughly along both sides of the road, but found no sign of the recon patrol’s tracks. Back at the truck Race leaned against the hot metal. “It looks like we’ve passed them, they aren’t far back either. Okay, time to take a lookout position and call in.”

Race looked the over country side, turning in a complete circle. “See that microwave tower? That’s our spot.” They clambered back into the truck and Race drove along FM 208 until they were near the tower. “We’ll hide the truck and make a cold camp here. Come on let’s move.”

When the truck was hidden Race said, “I’m going to climb that tower, I should be hard to see because I’ll blend into with those antennas. Give me the binoculars. You two rack out here until I come back, and remove the tail and brake lights...but save the bulbs to put back in. That old codger is sure to check.”

Race walked to the tower and climbed over the surrounding fence. She climbed slowly, staying on the opposite side from where the recon patrol would be and climbing slowly to keep her motion from drawing the eye. When she got to the top she worked herself into a stable position behind one of the dish-like antennas and raised her binoculars and started scouring the other side of the highway. At their closest, the men would still be at least two miles away. They would have to be incredibly alert to spot her up on the tower. She barely moved and used binoculars with sun shades to prevent light from reflecting off the lenses.

Race watched and waited as the sun slowly sank off to her right. Her patience was finally rewarded an hour after dark when she saw a small pin-prick of a fire about four miles away. Race watched for a few minutes then climbed down and went back to the truck. Joan and Ruth were awake, eating cold rations.

“We’ve found them.”

Race turned off the radio. “Okay, you heard them. The helicopters will meet us at the State Park north of here. They’ll come in from the north, circling wide so there’s no chance of being heard by the Chinese. Then we’ll move south on foot to the ambush point and wait.”

They got in the truck without slamming the doors, and Race took advantage of the teaching moment. “They may be four or five miles away, girls, but sound travels like the dickens after dark in this country. We can use the headlights once we’re pointed away from them.” They reached the rendezvous point a half hour later. Race turned on the encrypted radio and they settled in to wait, taking turns at guard while the other two slept.

At four a.m. the radio squawked softly. Race picked it up and responded with the code reply. Ten minutes later she heard the choppers coming in; they were the stealth type and barely made any sound. Race signaled them in with a flashlight and the three helicopters settled into the open field, shutting down their rotors as they did so. After only a few minutes, a soldier appeared out of the darkness. He introduced himself as Frank, offered no rank. After they had talked for a moment Race unfolded her map. Using her flashlight she showed Frank where she suspected the recon patrol to be camped.

She then showed him where she thought the best ambush place to be. “See this field? It used to be plowed but it’s gone to weeds. They’re waist high and crowd right up to the road. There’s no place a man can run without being seen. About all you can do is crawl through this stuff, and even that’s going to move enough weeds to give you away. There’s a dry river bed right here, a bridge on the paved road. That open field is going to funnel them up against the road where they can walk faster since they’ll be exposed anyway. Any car coming will be heard miles away giving them plenty of time to take cover in the brush. When they get to the bridge they’ll pause and listen real hard, then probably run across the bridge and then back to the edge of the road again.”

She pointed to another spot on the map. “Right here, at the other end of the bridge, there’s a clump of old trees, mostly dead now, but still decent cover. If you put half of your men in those trees, they can block the bridge behind the patrol after they cross. Put men in the brush on this side of the bridge and when they get half-way across you’ll have them in the wide open with nowhere to run or hide. We’ll have them exposed with nowhere to go, no cover, and we probably won’t have to fire a shot.”

Frank nodded, “Okay Race, you’ve seen the terrain, we’ll do it your way. Follow me, we’ll brief the men and get moving; not much dark left.”

Chapter 13

A
s the sun began to crease the horizon, the soldiers and the three Rangers had settled into their respective positions at each end of the bridge, Race and Frank where they could see the bridge and far down the road. If Race had calculated correctly, the Chinese recon patrol would be along in an hour, two at the most. She was tired, but excited. As the sun came up the temperature came up with it. Soon she was sweating. She took a sip from her canteen, her eyes never leaving the roadside where she expected them to appear. “Not to count chickens here, but what are the plans for these guys when we’ve got them?” Race asked Frank.

“Cuff them, call in the choppers, load them up, and take them back to Corpus Christi. There’s a team of interrogators waiting.”

“I can’t go right back, I promised to return the pickup to the rancher I borrowed it from. Hell, he made me sign a receipt for it.” Race chuckled again at the thought.

“Well now, if you signed a receipt then you definitely have to take it back. Hope you didn’t tear it up too much, it’s a classic. Wish I had one like it. You going to walk home after that?” Frank teased.

Race sighed, “Guess so. But you can drop Joan and Ruth off at Fort Brazos, can’t you?”

Frank scratched at his scalp and grinned. “That’s a bit out of the way, but maybe…”

The hours dragged on, past Race’s estimate. Waiting was hot and boring. Race began having doubts, thinking maybe she had spotted someone else’s camp fire.
Could have been hunters
. Another hour crawled by, seeming like a week to her instead of an hour.

Finally she saw movement where she had been staring for so long. A slight movement that wasn’t immediately identifiable. She brought up her binoculars. She saw another movement that was mostly covered by brush, still not clearly a man. Suddenly a man emerged, then another, then eight more. The ten men were walking beside the road fairly casually.

“There they are! ”Race said, unnecessarily since Frank was watching them, too.

Frank continued to watch through his binoculars and replied, “Yep, they fit the description alright. Now we just stay still until they’re on the bridge. Let’s hope they don’t get cute and try to cross one at a time.”

Shit! I hadn’t thought of that.
Race thought worriedly to herself.

She watched the Chinese through the heat waves as they drew closer, each minute slowly dragging by as she thought of all the possible things that could go wrong – and there were a lot of them. In spite of the slowness of their approach her heart was pounding. After what seemed like ages to Race, they arrived at the bridge approach and stopped for a brief conversation. They stood there for a full minute, apparently listening for any approaching vehicle. Then, on a signal from the lead man, they double-timed up and onto the bridge and began crossing it quickly.

When they reached the middle of the bridge the Seals on the far side emerged from hiding and took their positions behind them. They were visible, but had nearby cover, if needed. As soon as they were in place the team on Race’s side of the bridge did the same. The Chinese men stopped and looked back and forth. Race thought they were about to put down their rifles, but was shocked at what happened next. They rapidly formed into an inwardly facing circle and began shooting each other. Within three seconds they were all down.

Stunned at what he had just witnessed, Frank said, “Well you were right, we didn’t have to fire a shot. Let’s see if any are still alive.”

Race and Frank and two other men ran up onto the bridge. They moved forward rapidly, keeping the downed men under cover of their rifles, fingers on the triggers, removing weapons from each of the downed men as they came to them. Frank examined each of them, then suddenly yelled “Medic!” As two of Frank’s men rushed up, Frank got on his radio and called the choppers to come in at maximum speed.

He said to Race, “Three are still alive, barely. We’ll stabilize them best we can and rush them to the Fort Brazos hospital since it’s closest. Maybe we can still get some information out of them. Maybe not, these men were damn sure dedicated to not being captured alive; getting them to talk might be impossible, assuming any of them live long enough to question.”

The helicopters appeared within minutes, and the three wounded Chinese were loaded along with Joan and Ruth and several of the soldiers. The chopper lifted off and turned southeast and quickly faded out of sight. Frank saw to the loading of the second helicopter, putting as many of his soldiers on it as it could carry. It, too, took off and soon disappeared. That left Frank, Race, and five more soldiers for the third chopper. They dragged the bodies of the dead Chinese to the edge of the bridge and dumped them over the side.

Race said, “I’ll walk back to the truck. Thank you, Frank, that was as well executed as it could have been. Even if we’d known they’d go suicide on us, there wasn’t any way to prevent it. Tell Corpus Christi I’ll radio in occasionally and let them know my progress.”

Frank replied, “Hold on Race. We’ll take you back to the truck, and then follow in a few hours to pick you up at the ranch. Show me on the map where it is.” He studied the location Race pointed out for a minute, then looked up at her. “You know what?,” he said. “I’ll ride along with you, if you don’t mind.”

Race smiled, not trying to hide her pleasure at the idea. “Frank, you are the greatest!” She felt a stirring inside, a small feeling she never thought she would feel towards a man. Other than Adrian, she didn’t trust men. She felt that she could trust Frank and was surprised at the feeling. Happily surprised.

The Admiral leaned over a large map of the world, showing Adrian where they had spotted and attacked Chinese ships. “They learn quickly. They’re adapting to our tactics by spreading as far apart as they can, putting miles of Pacific Ocean between their ships.. We’ve responded by spreading out as far as we can, too. We’re going to miss a lot of them before they get in close to shore. We don’t have the long-range, ocean-going vessels they have. But, once they get within range we’ll find most of them, especially since they’ll be heading towards the refineries and platforms.”

Adrian thought for a moment, tapping his fingers on the table. “Spreading out slows down the number of ships we can stop, but it puts them in a bind, too. When they were closer together they could off-load their soldiers and weapons onto an undamaged ship. Now they won’t be able to. The ships we don’t sink will just drift, going where the currents and winds take them. By the time they get to land, if they ever do, they’ll be starved and dehydrated. Shows how desperate they are – they’re willing to sacrifice their troops without a hint of it bothering them. I wonder how that will affect their troop’s motivation? Probably doesn’t matter. Once they’re out of the action they no longer count to us or to them. The rest will just keep on coming. And we’ll just keep on stopping them. When they get closer, we’ll be able to spot them from the air and direct our attack ships to them. It’s going to get hot and heavy then. The closer-in they get, the more intense the action is going to become. The good news is that the longer it takes them to get close, the more boats we’ll have ready and waiting.”

Adrian stood up straight and began pacing again, to the Admiral’s annoyance.
Can’t he ever just sit still?

Adrian continued, “I expect the Atlantic attack won’t come until we’re fully engaged on the west coast. When they come in on the Atlantic side, they’ll be spread out also, but they’ll have the same problem, they’ll have to concentrate again. They may land a few in places where there’s no oil or refineries – places we don’t expect them – off-load, and march to where their targets are, try to secure them for the incoming ships. We need to shape up the militias for those fights. It will be a numbers game as much as anything. One Chinese ship can easily carry two thousand soldiers. Get enough of those on land and our militias are going to be in for one hell of a fight.”

The Admiral drew his finger across the map and stopped at Fort Brazos. “Only one of the Chinese recon soldiers made it to Fort Brazos alive, and he’s in a coma. Our intelligence guys went through all the clothes and gear of their dead searching for a clue. Didn’t find anything except the radio they used to report back. No maps, no documents of any kind. We still don’t have a clue why they were scouting way out there in the boonies.”

Adrian stopped pacing for a moment, “What’re the chances he’ll recover and be able to talk?”

“Fair. He’s getting the best medical treatment we have. We’re keeping him at Fort Brazos. Our guys have a plan for interrogating him. It’s an old trick, but one that might work, given enough time. Since he was willing to commit suicide the chances of us getting him to talk are pretty slim, and even then we’ll likely get some kind of misdirection. What we plan to do is to stage everything to look like he’s been in a coma for a year. Post fake calendars all over the village, get every villager in on the act. He’ll pretty much be given free rein to wander the village. He’ll be treated as just another local and fed disinformation about the war having ended.”

The Admiral stood, walked to the window and looked out, but kept talking.

“The goal is to convince him the war is over and his side lost. That the information he has is of no interest or value. He’ll be taught English, if he doesn’t already speak it – and we’re betting they taught him that before sending him in. There’ll be fake radio broadcasts and fake conversations intended for him to overhear.”

The Admiral turned from the window to look at Adrian.

“This will take time as his wounds have to heal up sufficiently to fool him, and it’s a bit risky in case someone slips and he figures it out. But, in the long run, the intelligence boys think they’ll get accurate information faster. They’re keeping him in an induced coma, only allowing him to regain consciousness for short periods. During those periods, he’s being allowed to overhear rehearsed conversations that, if he understands them, sound like war gossip. By the time they allow him to wake fully, he’ll have a set of buried memories that will make him think time has gone by and the war has ended, and his side lost. It’s ambitious, but could prove out nicely.”

Adrian replied, “The weak spots are how long it will take to get useful information, how you’re going to convince him his wounds are healed when they aren’t, and someone slipping and saying the wrong thing.”

The Admiral said, “Yeah, I know. But those intelligence boys are clever. They’re putting every possible medical technique to use, even keeping him in a hyperbaric chamber we had flown in. We’ve set up a high-tech laboratory on site. He’s being treated with stem-cells, and his wounds are being attended to constantly by a plastic surgeon. On the surface, he will barely see any scar tissue. To him they’ll look like year-old wounds that have healed nicely. They’ll account for his weakness by telling him he’s been unconscious and in bed for a year – he’ll be twenty pounds heavier when he’s allowed to ‘come to’. They’re also tube feeding him with high calorie formulas that will make him gain weight. He’ll set a new Guinness record for fast healing, believe me. We’re pulling out all the stops. The two Navy surgeons are actually breaking new ground here; it’s like a research project for them.”

The Admiral moved from the window and resumed his seat at the table. Adrian began pacing again.

The Admiral continued, “While he’s sedated, he’s being exposed to fake news reports of the war, as though time is truly passing. The psych boys say his subconscious will absorb the messages, and that will make him easier to convince. This is all being calibrated with the seasons and his recovery speed in mind so that he won’t be suspicious of the time of year, season-wise, when he comes to. I almost feel sorry for him. Well not quite, but I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes. The villagers are getting daily training in how to act around him, and being kept apprised of his progress. I’m told they’re enjoying the hell out of it, especially the children. They’re thinking he’ll be more likely to believe young children than adults, and the kids think it’s a hoot.

“The children have auditioned for the role of becoming his friend, taking him under their wing so to speak. Two of them, the winners of the audition, are being coached on how to become friends with him. All supervised of course, but from a distance. The effort going into this is tremendous.”

Adrian replied, “I hope it pays off soon. Whatever they were scouting must be extremely important if they were willing to kill themselves to keep from revealing their mission. If it’s that important to them, then it will be doubly important to us. Tell your intelligence group to hurry up every chance they get.”

BOOK: Eden's War (A Distant Eden)
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