Forgotten Forbidden America | Book 7 | Highway To Hell, page 6
part #7 of Forgotten Forbidden America Series
Turning to look at Hollow, “Oh, if he confirms what I suspect was used for a power source, I’m going to have to tell you,” Marshall answered and Gifford clearly didn’t like that, but didn’t ask more.
Having seen Marshall question someone, Schmidt gathered his stuff up. “Colonel, you need anything, let me know,” Schmidt offered as he and everyone else left, leaving Bolton and Hollow in the room with Marshall.
“I hope for your sake, you just answer my questions because I’m not in the mood to haul your ass down to Troy,” Marshall warned as he walked over and sat down over Hollow as he started to cry. Not one time did Marshall have to threaten or cause Hollow pain. Like Schmidt, Hollow had seen Marshall work before and didn’t want any part of it.
***
Two miles outside of D.C., Reaper watched the six Sin Eaters return from their mission. No sooner than the sun went down, the six had taken off. When they left, all were prime examples of Sin Eaters. By the time they returned, one was already dead and the other five looked near death. Their hair was falling out, skin was breaking down, and blood was streaming from their eyes and noses.
Over a dozen Sin Eaters moved up to help them, but all were wearing heavy lead suits. Other Sin Eaters came up in teams of six each carrying coffins, lead coffins that weighed seven hundred pounds each. One of the figures near the six Sin Eaters was drawing up medicine in a syringe. Reaper pulled on the hood to his lead suit and gazed out the small window in the suit. Before he moved, a hand blocked his path.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Havoc asked.
“To see my Sin Eaters,” Reaper answered.
“Reaper, they’re hot! I don’t know how they even made it back without the follow team having to help them back,” Havoc answered.
“They practiced and kept the exposure down enough to give them time to return,” Reaper said pushing Havoc’s hand away and walking over.
Leaning over a man, Ivy eased the needle in his arm. “Relax, you done your duty, Sin Eater. All the pain is going to leave,” Ivy smiled behind the small window in her lead suit.
“Thank you,” the man sighed as other Sin Eaters helped lay him in the coffin. Before his head was down, he gave a final exhale and was gone.
Wearing a lead suit and helping the others with the return team, “Screw my vest, I want that,” Pain told Ivy. Ivy didn’t respond as she drew up another syringe and Reaper moved to the others on the away team who were already in their coffins.
He told each one they had done their duty and were the very definition of a Sin Eater. When Ivy came over, Reaper told them goodbye and stayed with them as they died. Coming to the last one, Reaper had to get his emotions under control. Scorn hadn’t known anything when she had joined with Havoc, but she’d been a good Sin Eater. The reason Reaper felt so close to her was Scorn had listened to Reaper on that first day he recruited Sin Eaters and despite not knowing anything, had been willing to become a Sin Eater. Before this war Scorn had been a pretty college girl, but now she looked sixty years old and blood was leaking out from her gums, causing Scorn to wheeze.
“Thank you for choosing me, Reaper. Not only to lead the attack, but allowing me to become a Sin Eater,” Scorn wheezed. “Everyone will know Sin Eaters are forever when this war ends.”
Putting his left hand on her chest and holding her hand with his right, “You were one of the first to join and will always live in Sin Eater legend, Scorn. I knew you could lead this attack and do what was needed. It is and always will be, my honor to have you under my command. Now, my last order to you: relax, your battles are done, and you have consumed enough sin. You have earned your rest, Sin Eater,” Reaper told her as Ivy eased the needle into Scorn’s arm.
“No, I’m the one that was lucky,” Scorn smiled with bloody lips. “I got to be a Sin Eater and make a difference.”
“Yes, we all need to live by your example, Sin Eater,” Reaper told her and the smile grew on Scorn’s face, and then Scorn’s entire body relaxed as the last breath escaped her body. Standing up and fighting the emotion that wanted to be released, Reaper stepped back from the coffins. “Seal ‘em!” he barked.
Others carried the heavy lids as one used bolts and an impact wrench to secure the lid on. Engraved on each lid was the Sin Eater’s face in the lead coating, but under the gaping mouth filled with needle teeth was the universal marking for radiation. Their best guess was the coffin would have to stay sealed for a thousand years.
Forcing the hurt from his mind, Reaper strolled over to the decontamination area as Sin Eaters hosed his lead suit down with water. After he was done Reaper shucked his lead suit off, dropping it on the ground. “Someone pack it, please,” he called over his shoulder as he walked off.
Before going far, he felt Zeus fall in beside him. “Yeah, Nelson is trying to get out today despite the mask,” Reaper told Zeus. He had never ordered anyone to die in a blatant suicide attack. The other section captains and assistants reminded Reaper he hadn’t, he’d only drawn names, but they didn’t know. “If Mantis would’ve been here, I probably would’ve sent her just because Scorn was one of the first,” Reaper told Zeus as he came to a stop, looking off the small hill they were set up on.
Zeus just leaned over, resting his body on Reaper’s thigh. “Even though Mantis is one of the best at remaining motionless, not to mention the fact she can stay in a dark hole in the ground for over a day. Shit, I don’t know if I could do that,” Reaper admitted to Zeus, but Zeus gave a groan and Reaper took that as Zeus saying he could.
“You could’ve sent me,” Pain said coming up behind him.
Shaking his head, “If you die, it will be in a hail of gunfire. You and your sister are too well known to just disappear,” Reaper told her.
Looking out over the field below, “Scorn was a good kid,” Pain admitted, causing Reaper to chuckle.
“You’re not much older than she was,” Reaper told her, but Pain just shook her head.
“I was a thousand years old the day I put this mask on,” Pain said softly. “One thing I can say about the mask, I only feel five hundred years old now. I hope when enough sins are consumed and the feds are gone, I might once again feel young.”
Turning away, “You won’t,” Reaper assured her. “For the rest of your life you’re going to have to wear a mask, even when that one comes off. We can never let those around us know. We will always be Sin Eaters.”
Giving a long, heavy sigh, “Yeah, I kinda figured that out, but I like to think otherwise until then. Pain can be a bitch at times,” she admitted and Reaper gave a knowing nod.
“And Reaper can be a major asshole,” he admitted.
Spinning around on her heel and walking off, “We couldn’t care less, but keep Reaper from eating that fucking cheese,” Pain popped off.
Looking down at Zeus, “I guess she hasn’t discovered I took those packets she’s been collecting from everyone so I wouldn’t get them,” Reaper grinned and Zeus started panting. “No, I don’t even want to be in the same state if you take a cheese shit.”
As Reaper patted Zeus, Havoc walked over. “You good, boss?” he asked, stopping.
“Yeah, long war, many sins still to consume,” Reaper answered. “Send a team back with the fallen. The rest of us are heading down to that air force base near the Virginia state line.”
Havoc knew the base well because they had made withdrawals twice already. The base was an ordnance storage area that transported planes used to supply other bases, mainly bombs. There were stacks of bombs everywhere and the only Sin Eater who got giddy going there was Reaper. All the other Sin Eaters were scared to fart, including their demo experts Nitro and Pyro. “Really?” Havoc sighed. “We have enough to blow up the world, even with our own Water Well attack.”
“No, we need more, much more,” Reaper corrected. “We can get another fifty of the thousand pounders.”
“I hate driving around with a bomb on my trailer,” Havoc admitted.
“It’s not armed,” Reaper shot back.
“It’s full of explosives, that’s armed enough,” Havoc replied as Reaper pulled out the text pager.
Opening up the small screen, “It wasn’t a false alarm, the feds are launching Water Well,” Reaper said, sounding very relieved. “Let’s get moving,” he ordered. Repeating over and over in his mind that he was Reaper as he headed back to the others, Reaper stopped and looked at the six coffins in trailers. Fighting to not let his moist eyes leak, “Sin Consumed,” he nodded and climbed in his Flyer.
Chapter Five
Awkward name and a new job?
In Dallas that morning, Brandy was leaning back in the chair as the military staff outlined how they were dealing with Water Well. Brandy had to admit, Operation Water Well would’ve really hurt the Republic. It was the fact the Republic had over two hundred thousand prisoners in one desert valley in two camps that disturbed Brandy. Holding that many prisoners together in such close proximity just seemed dangerous to Brandy, but she wasn’t asked. Being military, Brandy understood the concept. The prisoners were in the desert and would have to walk for days to escape, and without food and water as Reynolds pointed out, an escapee only had a three percent chance to make it out on foot. It only took forty troops to guard the camp. Most were in towers outside the barbed wire fences, and those towers had mini guns and there was enough ammo on hand if the prisoners tried to storm the wire, three quarters could be shot. But the prisoners were in the desert and knew escaping on foot was impossible.
Well, with the feds dropping forty pounds of gear for each of the two hundred thousand, they would be able to get out of the desert. It was November and cold instead of hot, but it was still the desert. If the feds had pulled Water Well off, the Republic would’ve had to accept a ceasefire. The Chinese were still on the coast, so those troops had to stay there until they left. To handle the escapees, the Republic would’ve had to pull an entire army group off the line.
Brandy was certain the civilian population could’ve and would’ve mobilized against the threat, but that would still leave two hundred thousand troops moving behind their lines. With the front weakened, the feds could launch an attack on the front. If they hadn’t found out about Water Well, Fern would’ve had to sue for a ceasefire. One thing everyone who had fought understood, if the war was stopped before the feds were defeated, the war would crank back up in five to ten years and the feds would be able to drown the Republic, with Europe and the rest of the UN funneling them supplies.
Looking at the map, “Okay, you’re sure we have enough in place to knock those transports out of the sky if they don’t land?” Brandy asked.
“With ease,” Thompson grinned. “Between ground and air assets, we can kill each one three times if they don’t land.”
Looking at the route the planes were flying, Brandy felt faint that Reaper had sent so much detail. No one would ever know that Reaper didn’t send the finer details, except Oracle because she’s the one who had sent the battle plans. The Republic even knew the names of the pilots. “I always knew that man was dangerous, but shit,” Brandy mumbled as Nelson’s image filled her mind, not Reaper.
“Ma’am?” Thompson said hearing the mumble.
“Oh, just thinking. You’ll find out as you get older, the more you think, the more you talk to yourself,” Brandy told him.
“I’ve been there awhile then, Madam President. It started when my first daughter became a teenager,” Admiral Wagner chuckled.
One thing Brandy didn’t like was the feds had assigned ten Raptors and thirty other fighters dedicated for air support, in case the transports were attacked en route. As General Thompson pointed out, transports were big fat targets and fighters liked taking those out. It wasn’t as sexy as taking a fighter or bomber, but pilots knew transports fed those fighters and bombers, so pilots still loved to knock them out of the sky.
The Republic was down to thirty-one Raptors and seven were down for maintenance. Best estimates from intelligence put twenty-eight Raptors in the feds’ inventory and nobody could find out how many could take to the air. Despite being the most expensive production fighter after the last round of upgrades, the Republic had started a plant in San Antonio to start building Raptors. Despite the fact for each Raptor they built, the Republic could manufacture three other jets when manhours and supplies were accounted for.
The feds were also building a factory to start manufacturing Raptors. Yes, they were building one. Despite over half the population being dead and empty buildings being everywhere, the feds were building a new plant in New Jersey to manufacture Raptors. Current projections put the plant being completed the first part of February. The Republic had taken over a plant and just brought in equipment. The first Republic Raptor wouldn’t come off the line until March at the soonest, but they were already making other jets in other factories.
For eight hours, the military sat and briefed Brandy on the war yesterday. One thing General Thompson stressed, Raptors killed everything and only a Raptor could kill a Raptor. He proudly confirmed he had three federal Raptors in his tally count. When Raptors faced off, it was old school dogfighting. They had to close in and work for their kill. Other planes they could get radar lock forty miles out, push a button to launch a missile, and get a kill.
Brandy didn’t like the fact that because they knew the feds had ten Raptors assigned, Thompson had moved fifteen Raptors to counter. If this went wrong, the Republic could stop Water Well but could lose more Raptors than the feds, thereby giving the feds air superiority.
“What about that plane you sent to China? The Storm, right?” Brandy asked, looking up at Thompson.
“What about the Storm?” Thompson replied.
“It’s designation is FA, that means fighter and attack. Can those damn things fight a Raptor?” Brandy asked.
Going pale, “Madam President, each one cost nearly five billion dollars,” Thompson stressed hard. “And that cost analysis was over a decade ago, nobody wants to know how much they cost now.”
“They don’t do any fucking good sittin’ in a hanger collecting dust,” Brandy shot back. “Can the Storm fight a Raptor? Does the Storm have any advantage?” she asked bluntly.
Going pale, Thompson nodded. “Yes, ma’am. The Storm has superior radar, stealth, and engines, but it costs more than an aircraft carrier.”
“We’re already building those,” Brandy reminded him. “Call who you need to. I want… How many do we have?”
“Two, and only two,” Thompson answered, hoping that would change her mind.
“I want both in the air. If at all possible, I want them to knock out as many Raptors as they can when we tell the transports to land.”
“I’m sure they’re down for maintenance. They did just fly halfway around the world for an attack and returned,” Thompson reminded her.
“Then go grab a wrench and help the ground crews put the damn things back together before ten o’clock tonight,” Brandy snapped.
Leaning forward and picking up one of the phones on the conference table, “Yes, ma’am,” Thompson said, dialing a number.
Satisfied with air, Brandy turned to Reynolds. “I’ve only met Major Bureno once or twice. Are you confident he will and can do what Reaper instructed?” Brandy asked.
Nodding with no doubt, “Yes, Elias will get the job done,” Reynolds answered.
“He was able to find enough Texas Rangers he trusts to do this job?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Reynolds answered. “I assigned my son Captain Reynolds to assist and gather what was needed.” Hearing that, Brandy arched an eyebrow. Like he was embarrassed, “My son is Special Forces and assigned to ‘The Unit’, Delta Force. Or, he was before the war started. We’re still setting ours up, but they have the same function.”
Looking at the four stars on Reynolds’ jacket, “Your son was in ‘The Unit’ and is only a captain?” Brandy asked, wondering if his son belonged where he was.
Realizing what Brandy was getting at, “I didn’t pull strings to get his stupid ass there,” Reynolds huffed. “I tried getting him assigned elsewhere, but he’s really good at what they do. JSOC (Joint Special Operations Command) and First Group kept my boy. I assure you, my son won’t leave that desert unless the mission is completed. The last briefing, he was very happy with Major Bureno’s selection and the limited practice runs they’ve been able to do.”
One of the Texas Rangers assigned to guard Brandy stepped up to the table and cleared his throat. “I was here that night and only know Elias volunteered to Reaper himself. If Elias is assigned a task, the task always gets done. Madam President, you need not worry about the resolve of your Rangers.”
Brandy gave the man a warm smile. “The fact you spoke up like you did does put me at ease,” Brandy told him. “But I’ve fought these slimy cocksuckers and I would really love to be there and mow the little bastards down.”
“Whoa,” Wagner gasped. “Never had that problem from Fern,” he muttered.
Hearing that, “Fern is a good man,” Brandy said straightening up from leaning over the table. “He was the one we needed to go against the feds. He knew we needed to fight, but to pace ourselves. Unlike most politicians, he listens and knows what a good idea is and what garbage is. Thankfully, I won’t be here long because I want to wade in blood and I must remind myself to keep the pace set by Fern…” Brandy paused, “and the Sin Eaters.”
Seeing Thompson take a breath, Brandy threw up a hand. “You say one more word about not sending those planes and I’m spanking your butt,” she warned. “Yes, they’re expensive but if those Storms can even manage to shoot down two Raptors, that has the potential to save thousands of lives in a ground assault. If the feds have fewer Raptors, we can send more air to back up a ground assault. I’m not stupid, but I don’t put money over lives. We have them, use ‘em.”
“You’re definitely different from Fern,” Thompson smirked.
“How many other POWs do we have who aren’t in those super camps?” Brandy asked.
