Prepper's Crucible - Volume Six: The End (8 page)

“Send in the second assault team,” Cory said.

“Second assault team, move,” Eric said into the
radio. They both watched as another group of fighters ran across the square,
through the wire, and into the building. The courthouse
was
now lighted
with the fire from the RPG and the constant gunfire from within
the building. The return fire from the building died down to the occasional
rounds coming from the windows.

“Move the .50s to the southeast corner and assemble
the last two sapper and assault teams there. Leave the SAWs here. Get Kate up here
to run the fight on this side of the building. Tell her to send in the last of
our fighters when that corner is cleared and get them moving toward the center
of the building.” Cory paused,
then
added, “we need to
get over there now. They’re going to be moving soldiers and weapons to this
side of the building, so we need to hit them on the soft side they’re going to
create when they move in this direction.”

“I’m on it.” Eric keyed the mic on his radio and
issued Cory’s instructions to Kate.

Cory ran down the steps to the alley behind the
store. He moved down the alley toward the next fighting position. He
fist-bumped Kate as they passed each other; Cory turned and started to say
something to her, but her back disappeared before he could utter a word. Eric
came out of the stairwell, M-16 in hand, and the two men moved quietly until
they reached the corner of Montezuma Street and Main Street, and waited for a
pause in the gunfire before crossing the corner and getting back into the
alleyways behind the plaza. His men
were now forced
into pauses in the assault as they stopped to reload, and the exchange of
gunfire became even between the two sides. RPGs continued to hail out of the
courthouse, and the damage to the buildings in the square was now noticeable. Several
of
Cory’s fighters’
bodies littered the square in
front of the Palace Saloon, and more died in an RPG attack on the building next
to it. Several more lay on the street between the courthouse and surrounding
buildings. Cory noted that the medics were attending to them, after first
dragging them from the street and into the buildings that formed a box around
the central plaza. He said a silent prayer as they moved through the alleys,
and they finally arrived to the southeast corner of the square. The crew-served
weapons teams followed behind, lugging the tripods, weapons, and ammo with
them.

“Same drill,” Cory said as they caught up with them.
“One weapon on each window on this side of the building.
I need suppressing fire to get our sappers in.”

“We’re on it.” The group disappeared up the steps of
the city management building and set up their weapons.

“Are we guns up?” Cory asked.

“Not yet,” Eric replied. Cory turned toward the
courthouse and saw several unarmed Mexican soldiers drop to the ground from the
second-story windows and begin running toward his position with hands held
high. The men around him all raised their weapons and began firing at the
soldiers.

“Cease fire!” Cory bellowed. The firing stopped, but
everyone remained wary and tracked the movement of the soldiers as they
approached.

“We surrender,” the lead man yelled, slowing as he
approached the door where Cory stood with his weapon at the ready.

“Approach slowly with your hands up,” Cory replied.
As the group passed through the door, a Mexican in an officer’s
uniform stopped.

“You should tell your men to get down,” he said.
When he saw Cory’s look of confusion, he added, “General Sanchez has the whole
building rigged with explosives. He’s going to blow the whole thing when your
fighters get to the third floor.” Cory examined the man carefully, looking for
any sign of deceit. He found none.

“If you’re lying to me, I’ll kill you.”

“I know. That’s how you know I’m not lying.”

“Tell everyone to clear the building immediately,”
Cory said after turning to Eric. As Eric keyed the mic and began to issue the
order, a massive roaring sound cracked the night air. The men instinctively
ducked down as a rolling echo passed through the plaza, and stood in time to
watch the debris from the roof of the courthouse rain down on the streets
surrounding the building. A vast silence ensured. Cory gaped in disbelief,
shook his head twice, and looked away. After a
moment
he turned to Eric and said, “have the prisoners taken to the county jail. Lock
them up there until we can figure out what do with them.” Cory exited the
building in time to see his fighters begin to stream into the plaza. Eric stood
beside him for a moment. “We lost forty men and women in there, including Ed
and Ann. I lost all those people because of one crazy bastard with a death
wish.” He looked away for a moment, shook his head, and watched as two of the
fighters approached the flagpole, yanked the lanyard loose, and brought the
Mexican flag down. The cheering started when one of the men contemptuously
tossed the flag into the garbage can by the flagpole. It continued as the
second man attached the American flag and slowly began to raise it, almost as
though expressing reverence by the slowness of the ascent.

Someone started singing “The Star Spangled Banner,”
and the melody filled the plaza with close to a thousand voices participating.
The sound filled the early morning air as the sunrise painted the plaza with
light. By the last stanza, Cory stood with his hand over his heart, tears
streaming down his face.

EMP PLUS 39 YEARS, 22 DAYS

PRESCOTT, ARIZONA,
TERRITORIAL CAPITAL

“Well, this is the day,” Horace said cheerfully.
“They’re counting the votes.”

“Elections aren’t that predictable,” Cory replied.
He
was propped up
in his bed watching the election
results as they came in, and wore an expression of concern.

“We polled at over 58 percent. There is no doubt in
my mind that this is going to pass and we will join the United States again as
a state.”

“It’s going to take at least another hour to get the
final results.”

Eric entered the room carrying a thermos and three
cups. After pouring the coffee, he handed each man a cup and they all sat
quietly watching the television set. As the tabulation continued, Horace
finally broke the silence.

“Eric once told me that you ran for governor because
you felt you had no choice.”

“That’s true.”

“Can you tell me why?”

Cory thought for a second before responding, “
it’s
a long story, but I guess we have time. I generally
don’t
talk about it because it makes me seem preachy. So,
understand that I’ll answer the question, but in a way you may not like.”
Horace pulled his notebook out and poised a pen over it, waiting patiently.
After a moment, Cory turned to him and said, “
it
had
to do with the EMP more than anything else. We all knew about them for decades
before it actually happened.
But
we all walked around
with our blinders on because the unthinkable was impossible. I was just as bad
as everyone
else
. I just
couldn’t
imagine anything like that could happen to us. We were the greatest country in
the world. Or so we thought.” He paused, again thinking, and added, “
when
I was growing up, we behaved like Spartans. We worked
hard, were honest and rational for the most part, and treated each other with
respect. Now, granted,
I’ve
spent my whole life here,
so it’s all I really know. I know it may have been different in the cities, but
not here. Then, as time went on our society became more like Rome.
Even here.
We had dramatic increases in the welfare rolls
and disability benefits for people who were completely healthy, but found it
easier to take the handout.”

“That does sound a little preachy,” Horace
commented.

“Yeah it does,” Eric agreed. “But it also happens to
be true.”

“Again, we all knew that every great civilization
before us eventually crumbled: Rome, the British Empire,
the
Aztecs. There was no shortage of examples that should have made it clear to us
that we were about to fail as a nation. Our politics became mean-spirited and
more concerned about maintaining power than doing what was right. We lost two
wars we should have won because the American public didn’t have the stomach to
commit to winning.”

“You’re referring to Afghanistan and Iraq?”

“You could throw Viet Nam in as well, I guess.” Cory
paused, took a deep breath and continued, “
people
didn’t talk about the best thing to do for the country. They just yelled
slogans at each other and committed to having everything their way or nothing.
The notion of compromise, the fundamental building block of any political
system, went out the window. The right took to preying on people’s fears and
hatred, and the left stuck their head in a hole and pretended nothing was
wrong. Each side was as responsible for the mess as the
other
.
Nobody was about to let the facts get in the way of whatever they believed. We
cut military spending to pay for social welfare programs. Many of the people
didn’t
need those programs.
But
it
was better than working, and they felt entitled to it because they were raised
in a society that tolerated non-productive members. So, our military never
really had the money to prepare for the EMP the way we should have.”

“That’s why you banned welfare after you were
elected?” Horace asked.

 “I didn’t ban anything. The legislature voted
the law into effect, and it still stands. I did introduce the bill.”

“You also introduced legislation to ban political
parties and campaign contributions.”

“Didn’t have much luck with that,” Cory replied
sheepishly. “Asking politicians to not band together in groups is like asking
an antelope to behave like a puma. I should have known better.” He appeared
lost in thought for a moment, then added, “Don used to refer to people who
weren’t completely self-sufficient as ‘
sheeple
.’ I
thought it was a little harsh at the time, and maybe it still is; but I do see
a grain of truth in the term. The fact is that humans are herd animals, and
going along with the group, even if it’s wrong, is most often a lot easier than
going your own way.”

“They’re going to announce the election results,”
Eric interrupted. The three men fell silent as the announcer came on the air
and reported that the tally was final, with 61 percent of the voters casting
their ballots to rejoin the Union.

Eric walked over to the bed and gently hugged Cory,
who then leaned back into the bed, looked at Horace, and said, “
you
did it. Thank you.”

“We did it.” Horace shook the bony hand offered to
him and smiled. “I guess I have some more to write later today.”

“Eric, go over to the closet and get the flag. Give
it to Horace.” Eric strode to the
closet and removed a wooden
box
and handed it to Horace. “That’s the flag we raised in the plaza on
the day we ended the war with Mexico.” Horace stared at the box with a glazed
expression. “I want you to give that to the governor and tell him to use it at
the flag-raising ceremony. It’s planned for tomorrow at sunrise.”

“How do you know that? Horace asked. “They haven’t
announced anything yet,”

“The governor called me last night and told me that
if it passed, the ceremony would be tomorrow morning.”

“Of course,” Horace sighed, before taking the flag
from Cory and leaving the room.

The following morning, the three men assembled in
Cory’s room. Eric opened the window so nothing would obstruct their view of the
ceremony. The plaza below them
was filled
to capacity.
As the governor’s limousine pulled into the square, the crowd erupted with
cheers. People waved small American flags and hugged each other as the governor
moved to the flagpole, brought down the territorial flag, attached the Star and
Stripes, and slowly hoisted it up the pole. Cory cried the entire time, tears
flowing over his wrinkled cheeks and dripping off his chin. Eric and Horace both
welled up, but fought off the urge to weep openly.

“This flag was given to me personally by Governor
Cory Redding,” the governor announced through a bullhorn. “He wants you to know
that despite the tattered appearance of the flag, it was the one he put up the
day we threw the Mexicans out of the Territory and became free people again.”
The cheering in the plaza grew to an ear-splitting volume as the crowd began to
move toward the flagpole.

“I finally made right the last thing I had to make
right,”
Cory
whispered. “I’m pretty tired.
Could hardly sleep last night.
Would you mind heading down
to the plaza and joining the celebration while I take a nap?”

“Not at all,” Horace said. “I need to get a quote
from the governor anyway.” The two men left the room, exited the hospital, and
started walking to the plaza.

“You know, we’ll probably never see him again,” Eric
said sadly.

“I know,” Horace replied in a whisper.