The Land of the Free (24 page)

“You’ll each be paid a bonus of
$200 for your work, on top of the overtime pay,” said the foreman. 

“For workin’ ‘til midnight?” asked
Joe Ricci.

“About midnight.  The unload has to
be complete by about then, in the order we’ve rehearsed.”

The men shrugged then went about
their work, glad for the extra money.  The work continued through the evening,
with the greenshirts directing traffic, as always. 

Braden Finnegan was doing his job
with only minor interest in the cargo being unloaded.  But then he heard
movement from within the container.  It was not just shifting cargo, a sound he
knew well.  This was different.  Almost as if –
it couldn’t be,
he
thought.  But he could not put the thought out of his mind. 

As they were finishing up, Finnegan
turned to Ricci.  “Joe, did ya hear anythin’ inside those containers?”

“Yeah, now that ya mention it. 
Almost like people movin’ around and talking.”

“Exactly what I heard.”

The two men finished their shift,
but after leaving the port, they parked their cars a short distance down the
street and returned to see what was happening. 

They saw the greenshirts form a
line from each container to the social facility.  They opened the container,
and a procession of men filed out, following the line to the facility.  After
some time, men started to emerge from the social facility, dressed in black. 

“Did ya notice the clothes that
came in yesterday?” asked Ricci.

“Yeah, but I had no clue what they
were for.  Now I know.”

The men walked to other containers
as directed by the greenshirts.  They opened them and started to unload
weapons.

“Do those guys look Chinese to
you?” asked Ricci.

“Yeah.  And they’re unloadin’
weapons.  What do ya’ think it is?”

“No clue.  But let’s get the hell
outta’ here.”

…

San Gustavo

It was the middle of the night in
Del Rio, Texas when houses started to rattle to the point where objects fell
off shelves.  Car alarms further broke the nighttime silence.  Many residents
awoke fearing an earthquake.  They quickly realized the rumbling was too steady
and prolonged for that to be the case.   It continued for several hours,
fraying nerves and prompting calls to Laughlin AFB to see if any activity there
might be responsible.  Colonel March took the calls personally, assuring
everyone that there was no military action that could explain the rumbling.

What the people felt was
technically an earthquake, though the cause was not seismic activity.  Ellis
had given the order to commence at midnight, and General Kim sent his convoy of
armored personnel carriers, tanks, and endless numbers of support vehicles
through the gate that Cam Burrows climbed over some days prior.  The pace was
deliberately slow, taking three hours to reach the Amistad Dam.  The sheer
number of heavy vehicles was sufficient to shake the ground for many miles.

…

The sentry felt the vibrations and
feared an earthquake.  He scanned the horizon with his binoculars, looking for
anything unusual that might confirm his suspicions.  The first shot hit him in
the temple, knocking him out of the tower to the ground in a pool of his
blood.  The shot was the signal for fighters armed with rocket propelled
grenades to launch an attack on any sitting aircraft, principally helicopters. 
The residual offensive capacity of Laughlin AFB was neutralized within the
first minute.  The next wave of fighters was armed with heavier rockets, which
took out the armory.  That accomplished, the fighters made their way to the
command center, peppering it with bullets and waiting for the expected
announcement.

Corporal
Everett Smith was on duty when the attack came.  He responded by going down his
checklist of things to do in an emergency.  Fortunately for Cam Burrows, one
item on the list was to release any soldier held in the brig.  Burrows emerged
from his cell in fatigues given him by his attendants.  As a result, he looked
like any other soldier.  “I don’t know you, but you’re free to go unless you
have a role in defending the base.”

“Thanks
Corporal,” said Burrows.  “I don’t have a role.  I was transferred here.  It’s
complicated.”

Before
he could finish speaking, explosions sounded in the compound.  Burrows ran
towards an emergency exit, while Smith briefly resumed his duties. 
He
was quickly interrupted by the loudspeakers.

“This is Colonel March.  I am
ordering all troops under my command to drop your arms where you stand.  Report
to the main hangar, and do not engage in hostilities.  We are vastly
outnumbered, and fighting will only produce casualties.  And stay off the
runways.”

The announcement was right on time,
and the surrender of Laughlin removed the only significant possible source of
opposition to the advance of the San Gustavo forces.  Within a minute of
March’s announcement, the runway lights lit up.  Within five more minutes,
fighter jets started to land, 50 in all.  They were followed by several cargo
planes.  The base may have surrendered, but it was suddenly much busier than it
had been in a long time.

…

Whether flirting and showing
cleavage on the job was considered unprofessional behavior or not, Kate Wilson
did not care.  The results it produced for her were overwhelming.  She was
magnetically beautiful and she knew it.  It was only three years ago that she
had started in technical support with Aerozoot Engineering, and now she was
Director of Technical Services and Client Support.  Her coworkers and superiors
were nearly all men.  Engineers with limited social skills.  Their self-esteem
needed a little extra attention from her, she reasoned with herself.  That it
advanced her career was a bonus.

Kate had long dark hair, a perfect
smile and curves that made men act silly.  She was waiting in a round departure
lounge in the San Diego Airport, otherwise known as Lindbergh Field.  She and
four coworkers were waiting for a redeye flight home after a conference they
had attended.

“So did you do anything fun while
you were here, Kate?” asked Russ Wiley, his shy closed mouth smile and slightly
hunched posture betraying his degree of social discomfort.

“Sure.  I went down to the beach
and joined a bikini contest” said Kate, flashing a brilliant smile.

“Do you have any pictures” asked
Russ, suddenly feeling tight around the collar.

“Of course, Russ” said Kate.  She
opened her laptop and called up fullscreen pictures of herself in a bikini that
had men from other groups turning their heads to check them out.

“Um, can I have copies of those?”
asked Jim Beamsley.

“Of course, Jim.”  Kate was always
happy to oblige her admirers.

The group was now completely
fixated on Kate.  Their imaginations took control of their senses, and they
were unable to see anything else.  They completely failed to notice the
commandos entering the lounge from one of the boarding gates and assembling in
the center of the room in front of the concession stands.  They were jolted
back to reality by the sound of gunfire as the commandos fired their weapons
into the ceiling of the room, shouting something in Chinese.

The whole room recoiled at the
sound and everyone was now paying attention.  The commandos were waving to the
walkway back to the main terminal, seeming to indicate they wanted everyone
out.  One man in a slick suit approached the commandos with a flick of his
head, a broad smile, and an extended hand.  The nearest commando raised his
weapon and fired a single shot into the man’s heart, killing him instantly. 
Everyone in the lounge, including Kate and her addled co workers, quickly moved
to the exit and left the airport.  How they would get home was not of interest
to the commandos.

After evacuating everyone from the
airport, the commandos set up checkpoints at the roads leading to the airport
terminals, and were shortly reinforced by arrivals in air transport planes with
significant firepower.

…

“They’re firing, Colonel!” screamed
Corporal Avery out of the telephone.

“Who’s firing?” demanded Colonel
Schneider.

“They look American, Sir.  I don’t
see any insignias, but the tanks and Armored Personnel Carriers are American.”

Schneider quickly got out of bed
and donned the battle uniform he used in training exercises.  He ran to the
command center and demanded to know what was going on.

“It looks like a simultaneous
attack on all Air bases,” said Major Neely.  “At first we thought it was some
kind of surprise exercise.  But when we tried to send up an F-16, they hit it
with a Stinger before it even got off the ground.  Captain Liss was killed.”

“Who is doing this?” demanded
Schneider.  “Has anyone communicated with them?”

“No Sir,” said Major Neely.  Just
then there was an explosion near the building they were standing in.

“That was the armory, Sir.  Not
that we had much to start with, but now we can’t mount any kind of
counterattack.”

“And we don’t have any battle
worthy planes here in any case.  Shit!” exclaimed Schneider.  “We’ve been
caught with our pants down.  What are our known casualties?”

“My best guess is between 10 and 20
dead or captured,” said Neely.  “There was some fire exchanged when they
crossed the perimeter, and any troops on duty at the time were neutralized. 
They came in from the West and hit our choppers before we could put anything in
the air.”

“Can Coronado send anything over to
help us out?”

“Sir, Coronado’s also under
attack.  They called for help right around when we were hit.  And they don’t
have a single flat top in port.  Everything’s over in Taiwan.  They tried to
use a destroyer to get troops over to the base, but the attackers had anti-ship
missiles.  They never even got close.  Hundreds are dead down there.  It’s no
better at Imperial Beach.”

“Then we can’t fight on,” said
Schneider.  “Major Neely, what is your recommendation?”

“Sir, I don’t see any alternative
but to surrender.”

“I didn’t spend my life training
and building an armed force to surrender on home turf the first time I’m
attacked, Major Neely.”

“Yes Sir, I agree.  Do you have an
alternative?”

Another explosion occurred nearby,
and now bullets were piercing the walls of the command center.

“No, I don’t have an alternative,”
said a deflated Schneider.  “Give the order to surrender.”

…

“Do you hear that rumble?” asked Tim
Conroy. 

“What do you think it is, an
earthquake?” said Jim Burrman. 

It had been a quiet night at the
border checkpoint on the Amistad Dam, but things looked like they were about to
change for the two Agents.  Conroy stepped out of the office to take a better
look.  As he did so, the lights went out.  “Is backup coming online?” he
shouted back to Burrman. 

“It’s not responding,” said
Burrman.  “I’ll try it manually.”

Minutes passed, and still nothing. 
Conroy walked to the generator to find an exhausted Burrman ready to give up. 
“It’s completely dead.”

They walked back to the office and
found every electronic device to be nonresponsive, even those with battery
backup.

It was suddenly quiet.  The
rumbling had stopped, and anything running on electricity was incapacitated. 
It was the same on the Mexican side.

…

Ellis was in his conference room,
with Kim on the video screen.  “You may cross the dam,” he said.  “The EMP
pulse has knocked out communications at the checkpoint, and as expected,
Laughlin was a walkover.  Colonel March really came through.  My men nailed it
down in about 10 minutes.  Lackland took a half hour, and San Diego is almost
ready.  Then you can move fighters there also.  It’s important to keep
discipline, and not start any element too quickly.”

“Understood Sir,” said General
Kim.  “Is there any danger they might send a missile or something to blow the
dam?”

“If they even knew what was going
on and decided to do that, they’d spend the next four hours trying to get
permission to do it, since it would wipe out everything downstream.  That’s the
least of your worries, General Kim.”

…

The darkness at the Amistad Dam was
as short lived as the silence.  The rumbling resumed, and in minutes there were
lights visible.  Hundreds, or even a thousand heavy vehicles, it seemed.  “Jim,
I have a bad feeling about this,” said Conroy. 

“I think it would be a good time to
get the hell out of here,” said Burrman.  They got into their Border Patrol
vehicle and drove off into the night, leaving the border unattended.

…

Over a hundred landing craft made
their way up the Potomac in the middle of the night.  Ten left the main group
and landed at Turner Field and made for the command center.  There were no
aircraft on the ground at the time, and their information said the base was
largely empty.  They fired their rocket propelled grenades at the command
center.  They only found a few staffers who promptly surrendered.  They were
about to report back that Quantico was secured, when the counterattack hit. 

Fire came from the perimeter,
taking down three Morningstar mercenaries.  The remainder quickly found cover
and returned fire.  “Can anyone see who’s shooting?”

…

Corporal Lance Grant had been
listening to his short wave radio an hour earlier.  He heard rumors of attacks
at various military facilities, including several battles in San Diego. 
Miramar was reported to have fallen.  Grant roused four colleagues, who grabbed
their M-16s and night vision goggles.  They then set up a post outside the air
strip.  When the landings began, they were ready.  “Okay guys, if he moves,
take him down,” said Grant.