Glimmer of Hope (Land of Tomorrow Book 1) (23 page)

Chapter 16 – The Assassin

Walter Beale always knew he was destined for greatness. Life had been hard and filled with disappointment, but things were starting to look up. Gabriel had called and told him it was time. He was so jittery with excitement that it felt like electricity was coursing through his body.

After Gabriel recruited him for this unique mission, it took time for him to make his way carefully east out of the WTR. Walter had then turned north at least a hundred miles from Nashville. He traveled for several days, made his way back west again towards Camp Beaver on the JP’s eastern border. It hadn’t been too difficult for a handyman like Walter to get into the JP. Getting in was easy compared to keeping his satellite phone hidden and finding a time to check it regularly.

Walter discovered that satellite phones didn’t work as shown in the movies. You had to find an open area with clear sky lines and stand still for sometimes as long as five minutes to acquire signal. Walter did this every few days after crossing into the JP and had almost grown weary of living among these traitors, but a week ago the signal arrived. The words “OPS POPULUS” waited on the green display once the phone gained signal strength.

Walter and Gabriel decided upon the coded message for the mission together. It was Latin and roughly translated into “power to the people.” This was a play on words meant to include not only political, economic, and military power, but also actual electricity that the JP was hoarding.

Gabriel was a godsend to Walter. He had never really fit in anywhere or been accepted, but Gabriel understood him like no one since his late mother. The old man was wise, understanding, and most importantly, did not think Walter’s ideas or dreams were dumb or ridiculous as everyone else did. It was Gabriel who convinced him he had a destiny, one that would make him famous for generations to come.

Movement interrupted Walter’s thoughts and he re-focused his attention to the figures emerging from the little house on the lonely Murray street. He was cold and hungry from days of sleeping outdoors and hiding, but it was almost over. He looked again and counted three men leave the house, the last of the group Walter saw enter several hours earlier. It was now only the traitor and his wife. If he could spare her, he would, but he wouldn’t lose any sleep if he had to kill her too.

Dusk was fast approaching and he watched the wife through the window as she lit an oil lamp and appeared to be preparing food. At the same time, the old man came out onto the back patio and sat down alone facing away from Walter's cover. The time was now.

Walter looked both ways and then crossed the street casually walking to the side of the house. He took a moment to gather his racing heart and pull out the revolver. The enormity of the moment was almost too much for him, only a few people in the history of the world had ever killed a president or national leader, and all of them were famous. Walter Beale was about to be one of them.

He said a quick prayer for success and then glided around the edge of the house onto the patio. President Reggie Phillips sat there smoking a hand-rolled cigarette and watching the fading light.
This is the last sunset he will ever see
, Walter thought.

Gabriel’s instructions were clear. Walk up, shoot the President in the chest until the gun was empty, drop the gun, and walk away. No words, no discussion, no theatrics. Walter couldn’t help himself.

“President Phillips,” said Walter jocularly.

The old man started which filled Walter will glee and a sense of power.

“Who are you?” Phillips asked, but when he saw the gun, fear flickered in his eyes.

Walter smiled, “A patriot, a free man representing a whole nation of free men who will not be kept in servitude by you or your like any longer. Power to the people. Ops Popu…” He stopped as he saw Phillips’ eyes dart to Walter’s rear.             

He spun with the gun outstretched; saw a blur of movement just before excruciating pain filled his face and head. Walter dropped to the ground, but managed to fire his pistol at the unknown assailant before everything went black.

Chapter 17 – Overrun

Jim Meeks sensed right away that they were in deep trouble. The armada showed up on Barkley Lake nearly to the minute they thought it might.

David and his platoon started to engage the large transports with carefully aimed gunfire as the dozen faster boats raced up and began spraying their positions with machine gun fire from their mounted weapons.

The JP soldiers tried to target the boats, but they were moving too fast and in order to even take a single shot, shooters had to make themselves vulnerable to the swarm of bullets in the air. At least five of Jim’s men were already wounded.

Jim kept moving and taking quick looks over the edge. He saw that one of the transports had landed on the north end of the park directly across from them and troops were running off the boat carrying equipment and weapons. He also saw that the rest of the transports were attempting to land on the east side of Barkley Lake on David’s flank. David’s men were harassing these vessels, but were taking heavy casualties in turn.

Even in the din and smoke of the fight, Jim felt a moment of pride for his men. He had known nearly all of them for years. Although it was hell and chaos around them, they maintained their composure, tended wounded comrades, kept their heads down, and fired back when they could. Jim supposed that this was not his men’s first rodeo, given that they had endured numerous prison riots and even one bloody prison takeover and subsequent crackdown. He wondered if David’s soldiers were fairing as well. They were taking the brunt of the attack and were not as seasoned as Jim’s men. He was just about to send a squad of his men to help when he spotted something that made him change his mind.

While taking a quick peak over the concrete edge he saw another flotilla of small armed speed boats and more transports coming around the right edge of the park from the Kentucky Lake side.

Jim groaned. He wasn't surprised but had hoped it would only be one attack they faced. He studied the new force carefully and in that effort forgot himself. He felt a sharp pain on the side of his head and fell back onto the pavement. He feared the worst, and blood appeared to be everywhere, but when he reached up to his head he didn’t find any holes or fragments, only a graze along his skull. He was lucky, luckier than probably about ten of his men, he noticed with dismay.

A medic ran over to him, but Jim waved the man away saying he was alright. The medic insisted on throwing a bandage around his head to at least slow the bleeding. Once this was done, Jim peeked back over the edge and saw additional speed boats also firing at their position, keeping them pinned down. He noticed that the new troop transports were dispersing all of their troops on the north end of the park. He then saw something that truly scared him. The soldiers who had landed from the first transport had been busy in the edge of the woods and appeared to have set up several mortar tubes.

Good grief!
thought Jim.
As if the machine guns weren’t enough
. “Take cover!” he screamed as he ran the length of the dam, “Incoming! Incoming!” Jim had never said those words in his life, but in all the war movies they yelled this when artillery was coming in, so he figured it was okay. The men seemed to understand immediately because they dove under vehicles or any other solid shelter they could find. Jim reached the east end of the position and was yelling in David’s direction when he heard several muffled “whumfs.”

“Oh hell,” said Jim. He looked up and could actually see the projectiles in flight. The sight was so amazing that he nearly got caught looking before diving under a large pallet of sheet metal. A moment later he heard explosions high above them followed by thousands of dings, strikes, and thumps all around and over him as if some giant had thrown down a double handful of gravel. He knew it wasn’t gravel as he heard the screams of his men.

Jim decided there was nothing they could do. Between the machine gun fire, the airburst mortars, and the overwhelming number of men rapidly outflanking them, they had to retreat into the dam complex and try to make a stand there.

Jim turned to David’s position to give him the order to withdraw, but saw nothing but smoke, blood, and dead bodies. Enemy troops were already at the other end of the road running across the dam and were advancing their way. Jim let out an audible moan over the loss of David and his men, but knew he couldn’t dwell on it. He quickly passed the word for everyone to withdraw inside.

Jim was headed in when he remembered the TA312 phone outside which ran south to where Nathan and Harold were. He almost disconnected it, but then wound the phone crank and picked up the handset. It seemed like forever before someone answered and it was neither Nathan nor Harold.

“Hello,” said a maddeningly calm voice. “Corporal Evans here, how may I assist you.”

“This is Captain Jim Meeks, get me either the Commander or Deputy Commander right now!” yelled Jim.

“I’m sorry, sir,” said the polite and cheerful voice. “Neither is available at the moment.”

“You find them now!” yelled Jim.

“Again, I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t. They’re not expected back any time soon,” explained the corporal.

Jim almost screamed, but knowing he only had moments left calmed himself and said, “Corporal, pass along to them that Captain Meeks is being overrun by forces on both the Barkley and Kentucky Lakes side by fast boats with medium machine guns, probably about two dozen. They’ve also got maybe six hundred men and have already seized the east end of the dam road and the top of the locks. We’re pinned down with mortar fire. I’m withdrawing into the dam and will try to hold, but it doesn’t look likely. Do you have all that, Corporal?” Jim screamed in a rush.

“Yes sir, I do,” said the Corporal, not nearly so cheerful, “but you should hopefully see Colonel Taylor and Lieutenant Colonel Buchannan soon.”

Jim was in the act of hanging up when he caught this last part and screamed, “What?”

“Yes, sir,” said the corporal hurriedly. “They left with all the troops they could gather this morning to come north after the enemy passed under the bridge. We tried to stop the ships, honestly sir, but they just kept going.”

“This morning?” asked Jim, trying to hear above another mortar strike. “Coming here?”

“Yes, sir,” said the corporal in a compassionate tone. “Help’s coming, sir. Just hold on, and good luck.”

“Thank you, corporal,” Jim said and hung up. He unhooked the phone and carried it under his arm into the dark shelter of the dam, which he knew might very well be their tomb.

Chapter 18 – An Act of Bravery

Beau Myers thought that the raid was almost too easy, especially at first. Their trucks packed with soldiers quickly sped past the barriers and checkpoints at the Tennessee border while the disorganized Tennessee troops had simply stared in amazement. After the border, everyone they encountered waved at them apparently thinking them to be some of their own troops. Beau couldn’t quite figure it out until he noticed with a start that everyone was wearing the same U.S. Army uniforms and no one thought to look close enough to tell the difference. Eventually, what gave them away were their license plates.

They made good time south on the Purchase Parkway, but Beau got confused and they had to turn around several times before finding the right farm where the tanks were hidden. Everything was totally rearranged by the debris and destruction left by the tornados. There were people and vehicles going in every direction.
It certainly helps us blend in
, thought Beau.
Hardly anyone gives us a second glance.

Finally Beau was able to spot the bright red barn he had seen from the air. The initial plan had been to park the vehicles a distance away and approach the tanks on foot in a combat wedge formation. Now, given that time was essential, they decided to press on.

They hoped to find the tanks unguarded; no such luck. As they pulled into the farm driveway, a man in uniform with a weapon slung over his shoulder stepped out into their path from a group of men idling in the shade. He held his hand up for them to stop.

“Hold on right there!” he yelled in a pompous tone. “No one goes any further. Orders from General Sampson himself.” The man seemed very pleased and self-important by the fact that he was able to utter these words and had probably waited in anticipation of saying them to someone.

Beau and Sergeant Major Givens were in the lead vehicle. They looked at each other for a moment and Beau saw the Sergeant Major tighten his grip on his weapon and Beau knew he was getting ready to fight. Beau thought it might be worth pushing their luck a little further and stepped out of the vehicle towards the man.

“We’re here on orders from General Sampson,” said Beau with what he hoped was conviction. “I am Captain Myers and this is my platoon. We’re to relieve you of your duty so you can return to your unit. They need you there.”

The man looked confused and uncertain. “Yes sir, but…are you sure? That doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“I don’t think General Sampson took you into consideration when he made his plans,” said Beau. “I suggest you get back to your unit as fast as you can and leave the guard duty to us.”

“Guard duty?” asked the man again, confused.

“The tanks?” said Beau, “We’re to guard the tanks now. You can go.”

The man looked even more confused. “We’re not here to guard the tanks, we’re supposed to attack with them north when we get the word. These are our tanks and we’re not…” The man’s voice trailed off as he noticed the Kentucky license plates.

It would have only taken a moment to switch the plates
, thought Beau seeing what the man was looking at,
but it didn’t occur to anyone
.

Meanwhile the man’s head turned back to Beau with his eyes wide. Beau shrugged and smiled. The man started to grab his weapon off his shoulder, but Beau drew the 9mm Beretta pistol from his holster and pointed it at him. At the same time he felt the Sergeant Major come up behind him with his rifle and cover the other men in the shade, who looked up in amazement.

The Kentucky men quickly got out of the vehicles and helped disarm the Tennessee soldiers, placing them in neat seated rows where they could be easily watched. The Sergeant Major ordered the demolition team to get to work on the tanks. Beau started to turn to look at the three tanks about a hundred yards to their left, when he heard a rough loud coughing noise and saw smoke suddenly come billowing from the engine compartment of one of the tanks. It was starting up.
Evidently all the tankers aren’t idling in the shade
, Beau realized.

A moment later the turret turned their direction with an electric pneumatic whine before it stopped. There was a momentary pause which seemed to stretch out forever and then the tank’s main gun spewed forth fire and thunder as the tank rocked back on its rear springs.

Beau was transfixed by the sight and thought he could actually see the tank round come out of the barrel and fly towards him in slow motion. He would later swear he actually saw the shell’s stabilizing fins deploy while in flight. At the last minute, he leaped to the side as time regained its normal pace and the round slammed into their lead truck with a deafening explosion and a huge wave of heat and fire.

Beau momentarily couldn’t remember where he was. He saw burning bodies in the wreckage of the truck. Some of the bodies were clearly dead, others sadly were not. These looked to be screaming, but Beau could not hear them and realized with calm distraction that his eardrums had probably been blown out by the overpressure of the blast.

He also noticed distractedly that his uniform was on fire and he calmly rolled in the grass until it was out thinking the whole time about the elementary school safety mantra to “stop, drop, and roll.” His pistol was still in his hand and he holstered it with difficulty.

After putting out his uniform fire, Beau looked back at the tank as it swiveled again slowly and came to a stop. He realized that it was going to fire at the second vehicle and he screamed a warning, not certain if anyone could hear him since he couldn’t hear himself. It seemed to take forever for the shot to come and Beau suddenly knew why, whoever was in that tank was alone. Normally there were four crew members, a driver, a commander, a gunner, and a loader. This man was forced to move to the gunner’s position to move the turret, then down to load a very heavy round, then back up to the gunner’s seat to fire. Beau had a moment to be thankful that this individual seemed enamored with firing the big gun instead of unloading on them with the coaxial machine gun which would have done them all in quickly. Maybe he just didn’t want to also kill his friends in the process.

The second shot came as ferociously as the first, but thankfully not as damaging since everyone had already gotten clear of the second truck, but the burning flying metal pieces still did plenty of damage. Beau saw men on both sides screaming in pain.

We’re dead meat
, he thought. Beau looked around to see if he could find the Sergeant Major. They had to get out of here and fast or they were all dead. He couldn’t see him anywhere in all the confusion.

Incredibly, the top hatch of the tank opened and a blond haired man stuck his head out. He began frantically yelling and waving for his friends to come get in the tank with him and many took off running in that direction. Beau thought this was their one and only very slim chance of getting out of there alive. Either way, it was better than being mowed over by that monster.

Beau Myers had been a star football half-back at Mayfield High School on one of their state championship teams. He got plenty of attention from college scouts, but most thought he was too small. They also couldn’t figure out why he seemed so blazing fast on the football field, but in tryouts he seldom ran the 40 in less than 4.8 seconds. As a matter of fact, Beau had discovered that he never did anything in his life nearly as well as he did on the football field during those games of old. He missed that old feeling of clarity and energy he got when he stepped on the field and the loss of that feeling haunted him. Beau realized he had that old familiar energy and focus flooding through him now and he rejoiced in his heart despite the dire situation.

Although there were plenty of enemy between him and the tank, Beau knew he could beat them, he had to. He began sprinted with all his strength towards the tank. He passed surprised and dazed men one by one until he was in front. The man at the top of the turret didn’t seem to notice at first, just kept waving everyone on. He even cheered Beau on and encouraged him for a moment before realizing that he didn’t recognize the smoking and bloody man headed his way. The man’s face turned angry and savage, yelling at Beau defiantly before ducking back down into the hole and reaching up to pull down the hatch.

Beau turned on every last bit of strength he had. He didn’t stop to climb the four foot tall side of the tank, simply leaping in stride and then dived towards the closing hatch with his outstretched arms. The hatch slammed down on his forearms painfully.

The man inside cursed loudly and lifted the lid again and brought it down harder putting his full weight behind it. Beau managed to get one arm free and grabbed his pistol and stuck it into the gap firing off five quick shots. Immediately, the pressure on his arm stopped, and Beau pushed the hatch all the way up. He was just starting to look inside when someone hit him in the small of the back knocking the wind out of him. Amazingly he was able to keep hold of the pistol.

He fell down on top of the tank and rolled over to see another soldier with a rifle butt ready to smash it down on Beau’s head. Beau had a moment to wonder why the man just didn’t shoot him when his arm came up of its own volition and shot the man in the chest. The man fell backwards and tumbled off the side of the tank. Beau looked up in time to see other Tennessee soldiers running his way and quickly scrambled into the tank, closing the hatch securely behind him and throwing the bolt, locking it shut.

Beau moved down the short ladder wiping blood off his face and saw the man he had shot lying on the floor bleeding from a horrible wound in his neck. He appeared to be trying to talk to Beau, angry and defiant even unto death, but thankfully Beau was still deaf. The man would be dead in a moment and there was nothing Beau could do about it.

Besides he was trying to kill me and the others
. Beau had a moment to wonder how it had all come to this so quickly, less than a year ago they were all Americans and neighbors.

He grabbed the bleeding man by the shoulders and pulled him out of the way and then settled into what must be the gunner’s seat. The controls appeared fairly easy with labels for everything. Beau found by looking through the range finder and then moving the joystick he could move the turret. He also found a selector switch and changed it from “main gun” to “coaxial”. He then looked back through the rangefinder, saw the men who had been running toward the tank milling about nearby uncertainly. He sighted the red crosshair on the men and pressed the trigger.

Beau felt rather than heard a faint hum through his hands as he saw the men almost disintegrate in bursts of red mist. The bursts lasted only heartbeats, but it was enough to do the job. He traversed the turret to look for other enemy, but didn’t see any. He looked back toward his men and saw that they were getting control of the remaining prisoners. Some of the JP men even appeared to be cheering.

He climbed out of the gunner’s position and made his way through the tight corridor to the driver’s position, sliding into the seat and looking around. He saw what looked like a throttle and instead of a steering wheel, a horizontal bar with grips at each end like a straight motorcycle handle.

“Let’s see if I can drive this bad boy,” said Beau to himself has he pressed down on the throttle.

*******

Beau sure hoped General Anderson wasn’t going to be mad. They hadn’t quite followed orders, but with their trucks destroyed, they had to get back somehow and this just seemed to make the most sense.

They had disarmed the surviving enemy, turned them loose, then crammed everyone inside the three tanks. After that, they drove in single file back up the Purchase Parkway to Kentucky. Again, no Tennesseans seemed to realize that they were stealing the WTR’s tanks. People either waved them on, or ignored them in their efforts to clean up the tornados’ destruction.

The tanks made good time and were topped off with fuel. When they came over the last rise and approached the Kentucky border, Beau could see that pandemonium had broken loose on the other side. Soldiers were pointing and getting into defensive positions while others appeared to be fleeing to the rear. Beau smiled and realized that he was enjoying all of this immensely.

As they neared the border, Beau briefly remembered something about General Matthews going north to get anti-tanks mines. He had a moment to realize they might be getting ready to roll over these mines, but it was too late to stop. Beau held his breath as they crossed over and then breathed easier when nothing happened.

They crossed the border and then spun around lined up facing the Tennessee border, then turned their guns in that direction in an effort to show everyone that they were friendly. Beau climbed up out of his commander’s seat and opened the hatch. He stuck both hands out and yelled, “Don’t shoot, we’re friendly, it’s Captain Myers and I’m coming out, DO…NOT...SHOOT!”

Beau slowly raised his head up out of the hatch and glanced around. He looked at the amazed faces and lowered his arms sitting on the side of the turret.

A wide smile crossed his face at the exact moment he was shot, falling back into the tank with blood pouring out of his chest.