Bug Out! Atlantic Book 7, page 16
“Over half the US Navy is in the Pacific, and we don’t have the Panama Canal at the moment. It’ll take weeks to fix.”
“That’s a good point, you know,” Ross said.
“What about the Brits?” Henry asked.
“They’re still on our side, but they’ve also had to spread themselves thin, and there have been threats from the EU. You know how close they are to the enemy.”
“We should talk to Jared about this,” Henry said.
“I already talked to him, and he confirmed that it’s a danger. He’s been working with the other groups, even the folks in Texas.”
“Texas has a navy?” Ross asked.
“It’s more like a beefed-up coast guard, but yeah, they’ve got assets, and their technical folks have been giving them crude but effective technical help. My favorite are the barges. They’re like a sea-going Blockbuster.”
“Are the Philly groups really making Blockbusters too?” Ross asked.
Jaak nodded. “Yep, but only one group for now.”
“I’m surprised Jared hasn’t been working on something similar,” Ross said.
“He did, in California,” Jaak said. “Remember those armored RVs we heard about? They’re like a high-tech version of the Blockbusters, but they’ve been problematic. They are too vulnerable when the enemy is ready for them. The California resistance has lost people due to that. They are especially risky in densely packed areas.”
“Like Boston and the other east coast cities,” Henry said. “We’ve had this conversation before.”
“Probably before my time,” Ross said. “So are we in immediate danger from this EU Navy?”
“We don’t know yet,” Jaak said. “Jared is trying to line up some satellite imagery without tipping off the enemy. It’s a little tough, given where those systems are controlled.”
“The enemy has access to it?” Henry asked.
“Partially, but our side has been able to throw monkey wrenches into their satellite operations. The Airforce has been un-cooperative with the enemy in some very difficult ways.”
Ross chuckled. “I’ll just bet they have.”
Henry got a sick look on his face. “Does the EU Navy have any carriers?”
Jaak shook his head. “Not like our carriers. They have boats that carry attack helicopters. Those are probably the worst thing we’ll see. It’s hard to gain much advantage by lobbing shells into our cities.”
“I beg to differ,” Henry said. “Bombardment is a great terror tool. It’ll scare the crap out of the citizens, and some well placed rounds could destroy our capability. They could hit this facility.”
“They could trap us here, but they won’t be able to kill us,” Jaak said. “We’re too far underground.”
“If they trap us we might as well be dead,” Ross said. “This is why it’s worth the risk to have as many of our people living elsewhere as possible.”
{ 13 }
Frigates
C aptain Schroeder looked at the icy shores of Greenland from the bridge of his MKS-180, so new you could smell the paint. Behind him were thirty more of these fine Frigates, along with a multitude of older ships. Schroeder was a large, impressive looking man, graying at the temples, every hair in place, in a uniform that harkened back the days of the Kreigsmarine during the Third Reich.
The Comm officer looked over at him. “You have a message coming in. Should I route it to your cell phone, sir?”
“Yes, in full encrypted mode,” Captain Schroeder said, taking a moment to put the ear buds in both ears, then looking at his First Mate. “You have the bridge.”
Zander, a much smaller man with tiny eyes, nodded at him. “Yes Captain.”
“This is Captain Schroder,” he said, walking to the far side of the bridge.
“It’s Daan Mertins.”
“Are there problems?”
“No, Captain Schroder. I wanted to get first-hand status on the progress of the task force.”
“Yes, of course. We are in sight of Greenland right now. We will arrive in Halifax in three days time.”
“It will take that long?”
“We are not traveling at full speed, and we are avoiding the most advantageous routes. What we are doing carries great risk, Mr. Mertins. If we are seen too soon, the US Navy will do all in their power to meet us. That will spoil our mission before it begins.”
“How about the submarines and the carriers?” Daan asked.
“The carriers are behind us by three days. The U-Boats are providing escort services.”
Daan snickered. “U-Boats. I’ve been told you are a student of the Kreigsmarine.”
Captain Schroeder didn’t answer, silent on the line.
“Are you still there?” Daan asked.
“Yes, waiting for a question for which I can provide valuable input.”
“Strictly business. I like that. Is there anything that you need?”
“Yes, Mr. Mertins. Keep the Panama Canal shut down. I’ve heard there is rapid progress being made on the locks. Another attack will be essential should they get too far with the repairs.”
“I understand, we are monitoring the situation, and the southern fleet is also making progress. We will use them to shell the canal on their way north, should the need arise. Thank you for your input. Good luck.”
The call ended, Captain Schroeder removing his ear buds, going back to the main part of the bridge. “Thank you, Zander.”
“Is everything okay, Sir?”
Captain Schroeder nodded silently. “I need to leave the bridge. If we are seen, call me immediately.”
“Yes sir,” Zander said.
The Captain went into the corridor, walking to his stateroom, going inside and closing the door. He pulled out his cellphone again, hitting a contact, putting the phone on speaker and setting it on his small built-in desk. It rang twice and clicked.
“Schroeder,” said a man in an Italian accent. “Everything good?”
“Yes, Anthony, we are fine. How is the rear of the convoy? Any sightings?”
“I’d call you if I saw anyone, Hans.”
“I’m changing our orders slightly.”
“We will do as we discussed yesterday?” Anthony asked.
“That is correct, if there is a sighting of a vessel not belonging to the EU or the UN, it is to be destroyed immediately. Please pass this along to the other command ships.”
“You got orders for this change?” Anthony asked.
“No. Is that a problem?”
“It is not,” Anthony said. “It is what I would decide. The others will agree. We have a slim chance of surviving this mission. Every advantage we can gain will prolong our ability to strike at the enemy.”
“Thank you, Anthony. Talk to you soon.”
***
Carol sat in her solitary cell, her mind and body numb, waiting for the horror she knew would come. It was too difficult to think about Janey or Ken, so she shoved them out of her mind. The pain in her private places had mostly subsided, but she took little comfort in that other than the immediate relief. Guido, the brute of a guard had not visited her again. The smaller man who had admonished him came in three times a day, bringing food and ointment, which helped. He tried to engage her in conversation. She clammed up, not making eye contact with him, not wanting him to consider her a person, just wanting him to provide and leave. Am I ruined forever? She laughed. “Like you’re going to survive this, you dope.” She laid back on her dirty cot, trying to clear her mind, trying to sleep.
Later there were footsteps approaching, Carol’s eyes snapping open. She sat up, trembling, afraid to see who it was, but wanting to see. A beautiful young woman came into view first, with an evil grin that made her shudder. Then he came into view. Mateo, a man gone to seed, trying to look young, his paunch, double chin, and oafish gait betraying him.
“She’s awake,” the young woman said.
“Yes, Kylie,” Mateo said. “Hello, Carol. Welcome to your daughter’s place of employment.”
Carol stared at him, ignoring Kylie now.
“She doesn’t like you,” Kylie quipped. “Shall we show them now?”
“I’m sure she’ll be interested to see that her son and ex-husband have been taken care of,” Mateo said.
Carol glanced at Kylie, then focused back on Mateo, staring without emotion, giving him nothing.
“She doesn’t look interested,” Kylie said, taking a photo out of her pocket, looking at it a moment, then sticking her arm through the bars, holding the picture a foot from her. “Take it. It’s yours.”
Carol shot a disgusted glance at Kylie, then looked back at Mateo, who stared back at her, trying to get her to look away. She refused.
“Strong,” Mateo said. “I like that. Janey was strong, until I took her. Then she was mine, clawing and screaming and asking me to go harder.”
Carol felt the vomit rising and willed it back down, turning away from Mateo’s smug face, reaching out, taking the photo, looking at it without emotion, Ken’s face bruised, one eye closed from the assaults, hurt but obviously alive.
“Ken could’ve been treated worse,” Mateo said. “I’ve given orders to do no further harm to him, unless we find you to be uncooperative. I have moved him to this facility. He’s in the other holding area, on the far side of the base.”
Carol glanced at Mateo, then at Kylie, who looked over at Mateo.
“How about the other one?”
“Please, hand it to her.”
Kylie giggled, taking out another photo, thrusting it through the bars.
Carol stared at it in her hand, then glanced at Mateo.
“Take it,” Kylie said.
Carol shrugged, taking the photo, looking at it, sucking in air as the image burned into her brain, her ex-husband, hanging by piano wire, is tongue sticking out one side of his mouth, eyes wide open in a death stare. It took her a moment to force back the emotion, but she did it, going back to the blank face again.
“Impressive,” Mateo said. “Want a job? It’ll end better than Janey’s employment, I promise.”
Kylie burst out laughing. “She’d be an excellent assistant to Sturm.”
Mateo laughed. “For a while, but he’d torture her to death eventually. That man has a real problem. He should seek help.”
Kylie turned towards Carol again. “Look at me.”
Carol turned her head, looking Kylie in the eyes, trying to will the hatred into her.
“Wow,” Mateo said.
“Aren’t you going to ask us what we want?” Kylie asked. “Your son’s life hangs in the balance.” She giggled, looking back at Mateo. “Hangs, get it?”
Mateo smirked. “You’ll have to excuse Kylie, she can be a little cruel, both mentally and physically.”
Carol stared at Mateo again. After a moment, his expression cracked, his face flushing.
“We will not do anything unpleasant to you today, Carol. We require your help to bring Janey in. I realize you don’t know where she is, but you may have enough pull to get her to a place where we can pick her up. Meditate on that. We will be back tomorrow.”
“Toodles,” Kylie said, the wicked grin back on her face. Mateo walked down the hall, Kylie following.
Carol held her breath until she heard the iron door creak open and closed again, the bolt closing with a clank. Then she stood, grabbing the picture of her ex-husband, turning it upside down, tearing it into small pieces. She tossed the pieces into the toilet and flushed it, going back to her cot, laying down, grabbing Ken’s picture. She kissed it and put it under her pillow.
***
It was early morning at the Army Base. Whitaker was having his first cup of coffee, Private Burr in the command room with him, looking at social media traffic from the prior evening. The comm speaker scratched to life.
“Sir, Derrick and his team are here with a bobtail truck,” Frakes said. “We’re opening the gate.”
“Excellent, I’ll be right there,” Whitaker said, rushing outside, seeing the bobtail backing up to the hangar, Derrick’s battered Tahoe behind it, parking in a visitor’s stall. Slate and Hymie got out of the bobtail, meeting Derrick, Bailey, and Pat next to the hangar door.
“Tahoe’s still missing a mirror,” Whitaker said, walking out, shaking hands with everybody, Frakes walking over with Simon.
“What do you have in there?” Frakes asked.
“Sorry, it was late, so I didn’t tell you last night,” Whitaker said.
“Well?”
Slate smiled, unlocking the latch, rolling up the back door of the bobtail. “The mother lode. Come take a look.”
“What’s in the bags?” Simon asked.
“Fertilizer; figured you might want to do a little gardening,” Bailey quipped, Pat rolling her eyes.
“I didn’t know you were giving that to us,” Whitaker said.
“Wasn’t sure what to do with it,” Derrick said. “Could be set up and wired to stop a ground assault. I’m not an expert.”
“What else did you bring?” Simon asked.
“Mortars and willie peter rounds,” Derrick said. “Claymore mines, machine guns, some M4s, and other assorted stuff.”
“That won’t stop a large attack, will it?” Simon asked.
Frakes shook his head. “If we would’ve had the mortars and willie peter, we’d have three more choppers and all our ground crew. What kind of machine guns?”
“M60s and M240s,” Hymie said.
“Even better,” Frakes said. “Those provide a lot of firepower.”
“Claymore mines are valuable too,” Whitaker said, “but when they’re done or the enemy has gotten past them, better have a backup.”
“Yep,” Derrick said. “None of this will provide total protection. In order for this base to survive long term, we must destroy the enemy forces.”
“All right, let’s get this stuff unloaded,” Whitaker said. “Frakes, call some of the others. Stash everything in the hangar except for the Ammonium Nitrate. Let’s stick that in the storage building at the far end of the base.”
“Good idea,” Frakes said, pulling out his phone to call others.
“Want coffee?” Whitaker asked Derrick and his team.
“Yeah, sounds good,” Derrick said, the others nodding in agreement. The group followed Whitaker into the command room, Burr looking up from his screen and smiling.
“Private Burr, how goes it?” Derrick asked.
“Good. Looking for info on the depot battle last night.”
“Anything?” Pat asked.
“Nada, it’s like it never happened.”
“Good, that means we can trust Blumenthal and his guys,” Bailey said.
“Hopefully,” Derrick said.
“You have doubts?” Whitaker asked.
“Somebody tipped the enemy off,” Pat said.
Derrick held up his hands. “Let’s not discuss that yet.”
Whitaker eyed him. “You think we’ve got a plant here.”
Derrick shot a glance at Burr.
Whitaker noticed, and motioned him to follow. “Be right back. Coffee’s in the side alcove, fresh pot. Help yourselves.”
Derrick followed Whitaker into the next room.
“It’s not Burr,” Whitaker said.
“You’ve known him a long time?”
“No, we didn’t run in the same circles at the base.”
“Then what?” Derrick asked. “And don’t get me wrong, I don’t want it to be him, and have no reason to believe it’s him.”
“If not for Burr, we’d all be dead now,” Whitaker said. “He was able to bring the citizen forces into the battle, and that’s the only reason we weren’t overrun. It’s somebody else.”
“Who do you think it is?”
“Somebody on the ground crew. I don’t know all of them, and several were brought in by Sibelius after the UN took over.”
“You suspect somebody,” Derrick said softly.
“Haley went outside because there were two men reluctant to prep the grounded choppers for use at the gates. He told me about them before he got killed. After looking at his body, I’m not sure the enemy fighters from outside shot him… at least not the first time. He had a wound in the back, just below the neck on the right side, which disabled him. Then the enemy beyond the gates hit him with machinegun fire from the front.”
“Shit,” Derrick said. “Nobody saw anything?”
“It was a real shit-show out there, and at least two of the ground crew casualties were shot in places where they should’ve been safe.”
“Where are these two men now?”
“One of them is dead, got hit in the confusion,” Whitaker said. “The other one is trying to repair the broken wire harness on the only grounded bird we might be able to fix. I put him on that to keep him busy.”
“We need to figure this out and solve the problem,” Derrick said.
Whitaker nodded. “I’ve got an idea, but I’ll need your help. Let’s go back out and chat with your team first, then you and I will set a trap.”
Derrick smiled. “Let’s get some coffee.”
They joined the others, getting coffee and talking about fortifications for a few hours. Then Whitaker got Derrick’s attention.
“Let’s go to the hangar for a little while, Derrick. I need your advice on the grounded bird.”
“Let’s go,” Derrick said, standing up.
“Can I go too?” Pat asked.
“Sure, why not?” Whitaker said. “The rest of you, help yourselves to more coffee. There’s some ice cream sandwiches in the freezer if you’re interested.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Hymie said, getting up.
“Hymie’s a riot,” Whitaker said as they left the building.
“What are you guys really doing?” Pat whispered.
“Laying a trap,” Whitaker said. “Just play along. I’m going to set up a situation where you need to retrieve some data from Sibelius’s house.”
Derrick snickered. “Then we can watch and see if anybody shows up.”
“Exactly,” Whitaker said, leading them into the hangar. The group made small talk, Whitaker pretending to show them a few things, moving closer to the bird in the first bay, a tall skinny blonde man of about thirty-five eyeing them from there, wearing dirty coveralls.
