Point of Crisis (25 page)

“You’d probably still blame this on Eli Russell. I understand, Alex,” he said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’d want to get that fucker too. Family is family.”

“It doesn’t matter who’s behind this, sir. Something is brewing in southern Maine, and that doesn’t bode well for the battalion’s mission.”

“What about these prisoners?”

“I brought them back with the MTVR. They should arrive at the TOC in a few minutes.”

“Do they know anything else?” said Grady.

“I highly doubt it,” said Alex, hoping Grady wouldn’t press for an explanation of his response.

“The prisoners may come in handy if they can identify Russell’s crew. I’ll talk with the RRZ folks about setting up a temporary detention facility on base.”

“Did the Authority arrive?”

“Negative. They’re still trying to sort that out. Simultaneously assembling and transporting thirty-six teams turned out to be easier in theory than reality, especially in light of the damage to our infrastructure.”

“How many in each team?” asked Alex.

“Two hundred twenty-five, give or take a few.”

“Jesus. Sounds like a lot of people.”

“Not all of them will be based here. Liaison groups will be deployed to the state capitols and major cities to direct localized efforts. Some forward elements are already in place.”

Alex shook his head. “Doesn’t sound like they’re off to a good start up in Augusta. The governor’s office didn’t appreciate being told to take a back seat. The word is spreading over HAM radio.”

“I stay out of the politics,” said Grady.

“Good luck with that. If my suspicions about the RRZ Authority are correct, politics is about to become your top priority. Shoving a cadre of two hundred twenty-five bureaucrats in the state’s face is bound to cause friction. Add several thousand soldiers to the mix, none of whom report to local government, and you have the makings of a political disaster. Guess who’s going to be the RRZ’s front man? I’ll give you a hint,” said Alex, pointing across runways toward the RRZ Authority’s barbed-wire enclosure. “Not them.”

“Thanks for painting a bleak picture,” said Grady.

“You probably don’t want to hear the rest of my predictions,” stated Alex.

“The battalion has enough to worry about.”

“Like the snazzy uniforms behind door number three,” Alex said, nodding at the rightmost shipping container.

Grady paused before changing the subject. “How is the provisional security platoon coming along?”

“Not bad. In two days, we’ve picked up fourteen recruits. Four signed up under the militia banner. The rest joined as provisional Marines. Gunny Deschane and a few of the Brunswick Marines have been whipping them into shape. It’s a bit of a motley crew. We also have the York County Readiness Brigade’s training officer, Gary Powers. He’s been working closely with Gunny to create a useful three-week training curriculum.”

“That’s nearly half of a platoon. I’d call that excellent progress,” said Grady.

“Don’t get too excited. Things slowed down considerably yesterday. Three showed up; two had to be turned away. Despite our best efforts to contain the murder scene, word got out.”

“How do we reverse that trend?”

“Community outreach. The recruiting station is located next door to the Readiness Brigade’s community assistance center. They distribute limited quantities of food and basic medical supplies on a case-by-case basis to the public. Backing their efforts with a more robust aid package will draw people to the downtown area and the recruiting station.”

“I’ll see what I can do. I’d like to get that platoon training together as soon as possible. What else do you have on your plate?”

“Something related. I’m working loosely with the Sanford Police Department to ease some of their concerns about the RRZ security situation. I’d like to include a few of their reserve police officers in the provisional platoon structure. We may as well add a local law enforcement element to the mix—especially if we plan to deploy standalone teams within the RRZ.”

“Vesting local law enforcement and militia in the military efforts? Sounds like you’ve done your homework. What about other communities pitching in, or maybe the sheriff’s department?”

“I wouldn’t count on it. Sanford has the biggest police department south of Biddeford, and they’re barely keeping up. The York County Sherriff’s department is spread all over.”

“See what you can add to the platoon. I like the concept. This is the kind of initiative the RRZ Authority expects from its Marines.”

“Speaking of initiative, I’d like to go on the offensive against Eli Russell. My gut tells me he’s just getting started. Prior to the attack, he visited several towns around Limerick, stirring up antigovernment feelings. Sounded like a recruiting drive.”

“Recruitment couldn’t have gone very well. Not if he had to resort to prison inmates.”

“You should spend a few minutes chatting with the prisoners I delivered. They believe I was planted in Maine by the government. Part of a false-flag operation designed to subjugate the people. You have to admit, it’s a clever story. From an outsider’s perspective, all of this looks highly suspect.”

“The government didn’t conjure an asteroid, then turn out the lights. We were attacked with a low-orbital EMP device.”

“How did an asteroid sneak by billions of dollars of technology aimed at detecting near Earth objects one meter in diameter, one hundred years away? I’m just asking a question the RRZ needs to be prepared to answer.”

“Whoever detonated the EMP device obviously knew about the asteroid. Both hit us at the same time.”

“Still doesn’t clear the United States of perpetrating a false-flag operation in their minds,” said Alex.

Grady shook his head and walked to the open bay door. “Have you seen the light show up there? It’s slowed to a trickle now, but it was particularly active four days ago.”

“We caught some of it. Wasn’t moving fast enough to be a meteor shower.”

“Rumor has it that we knocked out every Chinese satellite in orbit. My guess is the Chinese hit us with an EMP, and the U.S. wasn’t taking a chance on a follow-up attack.”

“Still doesn’t explain how an asteroid the size of a small business park evaded detection for so long. Eli’s stories are gaining traction, and we can’t afford him gaining some kind of foothold in southern Maine. I’d like to start regular vehicle patrols and aerial reconnaissance extending north of Limerick.”

“Air assets are out of the question right now. Every helicopter is tied up with border surveillance and transport missions. You have six vehicles attached to the FOB. That’s the best I can do until we figure out our tasking.”

“That’s barely enough to scratch the surface! I’m looking at nearly a thousand square miles between Limerick and Route 302, assuming he didn’t go further north. Cached satellite imagery shows hundreds of houses buried in the woods off the established roads. He could be at any one of those sites.”

“Not if he just liberated a prison.”

“We have no idea how many prisoners he took. Without more vehicles and helicopters, we’ll be lucky to find him before Christmas.”

“Unfortunately, much of the battalion’s mission is rather strictly defined by RRZ protocol. Checkpoints, patrol routes, VIP security—the list goes on. You’re lucky to have six vehicles at your disposal. I’m not sure I can meet the battalion’s baseline obligations with the remaining inventory.”

“Russell’s the only internal security threat on our radar right now. Just saying, sir, if we wait too long, this’ll bite us in the ass. Bite the RRZ in the ass. I can feel it.”

“I’ll give you what I can, when I can,” said Grady.

“I hope it’s enough to make a difference.”

Chapter 23

EVENT +12 Days

Bridgton, Maine

“Slow down a little,” said Eli, nestling a pair of binoculars between the dashboard and the windshield.

The
Welcome to Bridgton
sign stood several hundred feet ahead of them, marking the start of a sharp curve that would dump them into the roadblock.

“You ready?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at McCulver.

“Strong signal. Ready to go.”

A red SUV followed closely behind them, filled with the remaining Vikings. As Eli predicted, the last of Jimmy’s criminal brethren had chosen to ride together as the raid’s shock troops. Once through the checkpoint, they would ride ahead into town and attack the police station, cutting off communications to the officers on patrol, or so they thought.

“You sure we’ll be safe?” Eli asked.

“Duck if it makes you feel any better,” said McCulver, holding a garage door remote control.

Eli slid his Colt Commander out of the holster on his thigh and cocked the hammer with his thumb.

“Start flashing your high beams so we don’t have a blue-on-blue engagement here,” he said, noticing Grizzly’s nervous glance toward the pistol. “Can’t be too careful.”

Grabbing the binoculars with his free hand, Eli scanned the roadblock. A scoped rifle without a shooter sat on the hood of the same blue pickup truck they had encountered a week ago. A figure dressed in MultiCam utilities and a tactical vest stood behind the roadblock, firing a pistol at someone obscured by a two-door, silver sedan. The sound of gunfire reached the car, causing Grizzly to brake.

“They’re firing at us!” he blurted.

“Keep going. It’s something else,” Eli said, pretending to care about what he saw through the binoculars.

“I told you, Eli. They’re up to something,” said McCulver.

“Son of a bitch, Kevin. You were right,” muttered Eli.

“Right about what?” asked Grizzly.

“Griz, I need you to do exactly what I say. I’ll explain when it’s over.”

“When what’s over?” he protested, stopping the car.

“Keep us going, or we’re all dead. Stop right in front of the roadblock, and don’t move the car.”

“Jesus,” said Grizzly, glancing at the rearview mirror.

“We have this under control,” said Eli, raising his pistol to the bottom of the door frame. “Please drive forward, and stop at the roadblock.”

Grizzly eased the car forward, breathing rapidly between panicked statements. Eli hated to put the man through this kind of fabricated stress, but his perception of events, when recounted among the troops, would prove important to his credibility as a morally honest leader and shrewd tactician, two traits he needed magnified to pull off the next phase of his plan. As the car approached, Craig Page squeezed between the roadblock vehicles, grinning wickedly.

“Eli, I could run him over,” said Grizzly.

“Negative. We have to do this right, or we’re dead men. Stop right here.”

Pistol along his right side, Craig jogged forward and leaned in Eli’s window.

“You see that shit?” he yelled, unaware that Eli’s pistol was pointed at his face.

“Unfortunately,” said Eli, jamming the pistol beneath Craig’s jaw.

Before Craig could register a look of surprise, or betrayal, Eli pressed the trigger, blasting a hole through the top of his skull and snapping his head backward.

“Duck!” he said, throwing his head down as a deep thump shook their car.

Eli swung the door open and aimed down the side of his car, sliding against the metal until the red SUV came into view. Through the billowing gray and white smoke, the roof appeared punctured in several places, warped upward from the cabin. The vehicle’s shattered windows littered the road with pieces of bluish-white safety glass. He kept his pistol sighted on the cabin, unable to determine the true effects of the blast through the smoke billowing out of the windows.

“They’re dead, Eli. Trust me on that. There’s a head on the road about thirty feet back,” said McCulver, pointing beyond the smoldering car.

“Remind me never to piss you off. I thought you’d blow the whole car,” said Eli.

“I don’t like to waste explosives. That was a small thermobaric charge, which fit snugly inside the center console compartment. I basically detonated a racquetball-size quantity of magnesium powder inside the car. Nasty shit.”

“Holy shit. You weren’t kidding about the head,” said Grizzly, stepping out of the car. “We need to get out of here.”

“Griz, why don’t you drive back to Porter and warn the others? We’ll take the pickup and head to the other checkpoints manned by the rest of these psychopaths. You tell the sentries to shoot on sight if any of them try to get back to the farm.”

“How many are there?”

“Only two left after this, but I’ve got regular troops at five other checkpoints. I need to get to them immediately before this spirals out of control. Don’t stop for anyone. Don’t fuck up the passcode on the way in, or they’ll turn the SUV into Swiss cheese.”

“Roger that. Good luck, sir.”

“Carry on now, Griz. Hey, sorry you had to see this, but I won’t tolerate the murder of civilians. We’re all in this fight together.”

“That’s right, sir. I’ll pass the word.”

“What’s the code?” Eli prompted.

“Code?”

“The code to keep your ass from getting shot.”

“Born to Run. Backstreets,” stated Grizzly.

“How many flashes?”

“Track number four. Four flashes.”

“Good man. Get out of here,” he said, patting him on the back.

When Eli’s SUV swerved to avoid the blackened head in the middle of the road, McCulver shook his head.

“He’s not coming with us, is he?”

“To the new place? I don’t think so. He wouldn’t fit in with that crowd,” said Eli, removing a handheld radio from one of his vest pouches.

“All cleanup units, this is Liberty Actual. Over.”

Staticky voices responded, acknowledging his transmission.

“The northern checkpoint has been neutralized. Commence your runs. Stick to the script. No improvising. I want all units headed back to base within ten minutes. Out,” said Eli.

“You want to hit the route three-oh-two checkpoint on the way out?” McCulver asked.

“Not a bad idea. Byrd’s men are good, but you never know with Jimmy’s old crew.”

Chapter 24