Braving The Storms (Strengthen What Remains Book 3) (20 page)

As Maria came alongside, Pastor Ken began. “We are gathered here today to join Caden Westmore and Maria Lopez in holy matrimony.”

After combat, Caden often had trouble recalling details. He attributed that to adrenalin and stress. As Pastor Ken finished, Caden’s eyes remained fixed on Maria, but he struggled to remember the ceremony.

“You may kiss the bride.”

He willingly obeyed.

After shaking hands with Hoover and Brooks and kissing the ladies, Caden walked to the porch with his bride. He hugged her tight and once again kissed her, savoring the moment, committing it to memory, for as long as would be necessary. “I’ve got to go.”

Chapter Thirty Five

Whiteman Air Force Base, Missouri, Tuesday, October 20
^th

Caden woke as the C-130 transport plane bumped down on the runway at Whiteman. He yawned and looked about. Soldiers were packed into the plane, five seats across the middle and the web jump seats on either side. As the plane rolled to a stop he stood and rubbed his eyes and sore neck.

The loading ramp at the rear dropped, and the soldiers jogged onto the runway. As Fletcher assembled the men, Caden looked over the area. Large portions of the runway had been recently patched. The base of the red brick control tower remained, but most of the building had been blown to rubble. A dozen nearby structures, including several hangars, stood as burnt ruins. Camouflaged netting covered the few remaining hangars. He doubted that would be effective in stopping future attacks. How many times had the base been fought over during the war?

“All present sir.” Fletcher saluted.

Again, Caden’s eyes swept the nearby destruction. “Let’s move out, First Sergeant. I’m feeling exposed.” As everyone jogged from the tarmac, Caden thought of his new wife, Maria, and the rest of his family and friends. He hoped they would remain safe and far from the front lines.

A young lieutenant walked up and saluted as they reached a grassy area. “Are you Major Westmore?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Lieutenant Rookman and I’ll be assisting you.” He pointed to a building. “Your men can get food at the mess over there. Beside it is an open bay barracks where they can rest until transport is ready.”

Caden called Fletcher over. “Make sure the men are fed and ready to go. I don’t think we’ll be here long.”

When Fletcher jogged off the lieutenant said, “If you will come with me Colonel Hutchison will brief you.”

“Hutchison?” Caden didn’t budge. “From Washington state?”

“Yes, sir. This way, please.” Rookman gestured toward the bombed control tower. “The colonel arrived a week ago as part of your operation.”

Caden winced recalling how he had argued with Hutchison regarding the handling of Kern flu patients, and the flow of refugees. At one point, Caden even believed the colonel might be a traitor. He followed, wondering how this reunion with the senior officer might unfold.

The lieutenant led him to a backdoor of the ruined control tower. Rookman entered and they walked into a room with blown out windows, crumbling walls and a roof with gaping holes. Together they continued through another door, and down two flights of stairs. At the bottom landing he tapped numbers on a keypad and a buzzer sounded. He pulled open the heavy metal door and waited for Caden to enter.

Just inside Caden paused and surveyed the large concrete room. On the far wall hung several large television and computer monitors. Other computers lined the walls and along a table before the huge screens. Old fashioned paper maps filled most of the remaining wall space and were spread out on a large table near the rear.

Rookman entered and continued on.

Caden hurried to catch up.

“Major Westmore is here to see you,” the Lieutenant announced.

Forcing a smile to his face, Caden saluted.

Hutchison returned it and then thrust out his hand. “I was glad to hear that you survived the Kern flu and were coming to join us.”

“I’m glad I survived too.” Caden gestured toward the room. “This operations center is quite impressive.”

Hutchison shrugged. “It wouldn’t survive a bunker buster bomb, but the Durant loyalist forces aren’t interested in the ruined building they see from above.”

“No, I guess not.” Caden glanced as another door opened and three soldiers entered.

“To maintain the illusion of total rubble most people come here through an old cable shaft from another building about fifty yards away.”

“How long have you been here?” Caden asked.

“Over a week.” He walked toward a table with a map laid out on top. “Command is putting every officer with combat experience in the field, but our group has been waiting for you practically since you came down with the Kern flu.”

“Why am I so important to all of this?”

“I was hoping you’d tell me.”

Caden shook his head. “I’ve been told very little and nothing about when, where or why.”

“Well, I hope someone tells us something soon.” Hutchison shook his head. “At first I thought Command might be planning an offensive.”

“A winter offensive? With the Kern flu still decimating the ranks?”

Hutchison shrugged. “Both sides are equally affected. But now, since they told me to wait for you, I’m thinking somehow you are the key.” He shrugged. “Anyway, my orders are to get you, and your men, to the front.” He pointed to a location on the map. “I’m supposed to get you here, just south of Cape Girardeau. There’s a regional airport nearby. That’ll be your staging area.”

Caden nodded. “Where are your men stationed?”

“Most of them are in Cape Girardeau.” Hutchison moved his finger along the map.

“So, you’ll be covering the north flank. Who’s stationed to the south?”

Hutchison drew a line across the Mississippi into Tennessee. “Regular army units and elements of the Arkansas and Tennessee guard.”

“I thought Tennessee was under Durant’s control.”

“Most of the ground is, but not all. Several military units are fighting with us.”

Caden examined the map. “Okay, so, neither of us are sure what we’re doing when we get to the staging point.”

Hutchison shook his head. “Get you there and hold Cape Girardeau while you’re south of me. That’s my orders and all I know.” He stared at Caden. “I sense you have additional information.”

“Not very much.” General Harwich had told Caden he would be doing some recon and retrieve a package. He shook his head. “I can’t say anything.”

“Okay then.” Hutchison stepped toward the door. “Let’s make sure the men have some hot chow, a shower and maybe some rest. I doubt they’ll be getting such things in the days ahead.”

* * *

Somewhere in southern Missouri, Tuesday, October 20
^th

Zach stared out the back of a Deuce-and-a-half as it rumbled along a highway somewhere in Missouri. His platoon from the Hansen armory, along with hundreds of other soldiers, left in a long convoy from Whiteman airbase late in the afternoon. He knew from the position of the sun that they were headed southwest, but this had changed several times. For a while they had journeyed east, then changed roads and gone south. Then they turned again. He had no clue as to the final destination.

As day turned to dusk, his limited view filled with dark shadows. He hadn’t slept well in the web seat of the C-130, and the hard seat of the truck, combined with the rifle slung on his shoulder, promised little rest in the hours ahead. So, he stared at small towns, farms, and a growing number of stars.

As the miles bumped by, his eyes slipped shut.

A roar so loud it hurt, reverberated through Zach’s body. His eyes shot open to near total darkness. Overhead, jets shot past, so low and fast their engines overwhelmed all other sound.

The Deuce-and-a-half swerved to the side of the road.

Soldiers jumped from the truck. Someone bumped against Zach, thumping the rifle barrel against his head. He fell to the ground.

Like a huge Fourth of July display, the sky exploded into fire.

Zach followed the others into a nearby meadow. He could see officers shouting orders, but jet engines and explosions were all he heard. He trailed the others into the field. Behind him came the boom of another explosion. A wave of heat and wind knocked him to the ground. Lifting his face from the dirt he looked back as the truck he had been in fell to the earth in pieces.

He crawled along the field away from the fire looking for others. Gradually, he noticed bumps in the dirt. Realizing they were fellow soldiers he scurried toward them on hands and knees.

The roar of jets continued overhead.

Nearing the group, he spotted First Sergeant Fletcher.

“In the future private move faster—if you want to live,” Fletcher shouted.

Zach nodded and, with the others, waited for the aerial nightmare to stop. More trucks burst into flame and more explosions dotted the sky.

Then it stopped as the roar of jets faded.

Zach’s ears rang.

Fletcher stood and swept his arm forward. “Come on people, back to the convoy.”

Other voices shouted. “Find a working truck and climb aboard.”

Zach held back not wanting to be inside the next target.

A sergeant urged him on with a string of profanity.

Within minutes the remaining vehicles rolled down the road, this time with Zach in the middle. He struggled to listen for the jets as the convoy continued toward the front.

The first rays of sun peeked over the horizon as the vehicles pulled off the freeway.

Zach stared out the back. He noticed most of the other trucks continued on the highway. His Deuce-and-a-half rolled down one street and then turned on to another smaller road. A few minutes later it stopped.

“Everyone off the trucks,” Fletcher shouted from somewhere outside.

Just two of the original vehicles had journeyed to this place. Along with Zach, about forty soldiers stood beside rubble that had once been a building. Only a covered entryway remained. Big letters on the side read, “Cape Girardeau Regional Airport.”

Zach had no idea where that might be.

“Get comfortable.” Fletcher picked up his rucksack. “This is our new home.”

Zach surveyed the rubble of the airport as a strange realization came to him. His whole life seemed to lead him here. As a child he played many computer war games. As a teen he hunted game in the forest. Recently he had experienced real combat. He recalled the attack on the convoy just hours earlier and surveyed the bombed buildings, burned out hangars, and plane wreckage that surrounded him.

This would be a new level of violence and destruction.

Chapter Thirty Six

Cape Girardeau County, Missouri, Wednesday, October 21
^st

Zach stepped into the first rays of early morning sun that shone between two nearby buildings. After hours of sentry duty on the road leading toward their position the added warmth felt good. Yesterday the platoon had built an S-shaped lane of sandbags and moved concrete blocks onto the road to slow any vehicle coming toward them. Finally, they built a wooden gate and painted “STOP” on it. If anyone drove down the road they were supposed to wait there while he radioed the platoon HQ for instruction.

He spotted Private Meyer about a hundred yards away checking perimeter defenses. Zach turned his gaze back to the HQ building at the end of the road behind him. Those inside were warm and probably had already eaten breakfast. He stomped his cold feet and slapped his hands. He glanced at the two machine gun positions closer to the base. That seemed like a neat job, but instead he had an M4 and a wooden gate.

No one had ventured down the road during his watch. He yawned. Army life had turned out to be a lot like working with the guard, except he wasn’t learning anything new, and with the armory he usually went home to a warm bed and home-cooked food. It wasn’t actually that cold, but after hours on watch he looked forward to his cot, sleeping bag and hot MRE breakfast.

His radio crackled. “Sentry one, report.”

Zach yawned again, and pressed transmit. “Sentry one, all quiet.” He walked back and forth, as the radio calls went out to other posts along the perimeter.

After several minutes he glanced at his watch. Finally, relief time neared. He hoped Private Waller didn’t oversleep.

Several minutes later the sergeant and another soldier left the HQ. The sergeant seemed to be inspecting defensive positions. The other soldier walked straight toward the gate.

Zach thought he recognized him. “Ryan? Is that you?”

“Yeah.” He spread his arms wide and grinned. “Private Nelson—here to relieve you.”

“Steve is supposed to have the next watch.”

“I traded with him, but I could go back to my cot if you don’t want me to relieve you.”

“No.” Zach shook his head. “You’ll do fine.” He pulled the radio from his pocket and handed it to Nelson. “There’s nothing to pass down.”

“What about that car coming toward us?”

Zach spun around. For four hours no one had come near, but now a black SUV approached. “Cover me.”

As Nelson used the radio to report the traffic, the sergeant and Meyer hurried to join them at the gate.

The vehicle slowed as it neared the winding line of sandbags and concrete. Zach stood behind waist-high blocks with his rifle ready. The vehicle braked to a stop at the gate.

The clear windows allowed Zach to see the four people inside, three soldiers and one civilian. The driver kept his hands on the steering wheel; the other two soldiers made their empty hands visible. The civilian in the back rolled down a window.

“My name is David Weston. I’m here to see Major Westmore.”

Nelson radioed the information back to HQ.

* * *

Caden sat at a metal desk eating his MRE breakfast. The building had been an administrative center for the airport. Maps were laid out on a conference table, and tacked to the walls. Static and hiss called from the radios of the communication center next door.

First Sergeant Fletcher walked over holding his own breakfast. “Mind if I join you?”

Caden chewed a mouthful of bread and peanut butter. He gestured for him to sit.

Fletcher pulled over a chair.

After Caden swallowed, he held up a muffin. “I’ve been trying to decide if I should eat this or use it as a hockey puck.”

Fletcher glanced at it. “Eat it. There’s no ice for a rink.”

Caden took a bite and nodded approval. “Once you break the crust, it’s not bad.”

A soldier trotted in from the next office. “Excuse me, sir, an SUV just drove up to the gate. The passenger says he’s David Weston, here to see you.”

Caden stood. What was the governor’s chief of staff doing at the war front? Could it be a ruse? “Get the ready squad out there. Let the vehicle enter, but keep it in the holding area away from the main building.”

“Yes, sir.” The soldier hurried away.

Fletcher stood. “Don’t I know this guy?”

“If it’s really him, yeah, you do.” Caden motioned for Fletcher to follow. “He’s the guy who impersonated Governor Monroe during Operation Hellhound. I met him at Fort Rucker while trying to get home after the first terror attacks.”

“You really think it might not be him?”

Caden shrugged. “Why would he be in the war zone?”

Together they stepped from the building as the vehicle moved slowly toward them. Twelve soldiers crouched behind a semi-circle of sandbags with M4s at the ready.

The SUV stopped well back from the soldiers. The two men in the front seat kept their hands visible. Both backdoors opened. A soldier and a civilian exited the vehicle.

“David?” Caden relaxed and stepped over the sandbags. “What are you doing here?”

They walked toward each other.

Caden thrust out a hand to greet his friend.

Weston smiled and leaned close. “I’m the lucky guy chosen to update your orders.”

The soldier with Weston stayed near the car.

“Ready squad,” Fletcher called out. “At ease.”

In a quiet voice, Weston asked, “Is there somewhere we can meet in private?”

Caden nodded. “First Sergeant, show the guys in the vehicle inside and—.”

“That’s not necessary. Most of us won’t be staying long.”

“Most?”

“I’ll explain in a moment.”

“Okay.” Caden led Weston to a small office with a cot on one side, a metal desk on the other, and a couple of chairs. “Welcome to my home.”

“Cozy.”

Caden sat and motioned for Weston to do so. “I don’t see a briefcase, satchel, envelope or sheet of paper. Where are these orders?”

Weston shook his head. “Nothing has been written down. This will be verbal and for your ears only. Tell others only what they need to know.”

“General Harwich told me this is a recon-and-package retrieval mission, but the secrecy surrounding it tells me there is something more.”

“You will be doing recon on the east bank of the Mississippi, in contested territory. However, one of the soldiers who came with me will be your guide crossing the river and in Illinois.”

“A local guy?”

“Yes.” Weston nodded. “And I will provide more details about the mission—later.”

“If I’m going to be spending much time across the river, this base camp should be closer to it.”

“This area has been quiet for weeks, and we don’t want to attract attention. In two days units from St. Louis, and north to the Canadian border will launch a major offensive.” Weston pulled a blank slip of paper from his pocket and wrote on it as he continued to speak. “Use the next two days to recon the area on the other side and find this location. Memorize the coordinates and then burn the paper. Use the guide to determine several ways to that position and escape routes back.”

Caden waved the paper. “If you don’t want to attract attention then I shouldn’t go anywhere near this location until it’s time to go and … what’s at this place?”

“An abandoned farmhouse.”

“Okay, and what’s inside the building?”

“The package you need to retrieve.” Weston sighed. “I know that it’s dangerous to do recon in the area of the farmhouse, but … well, the package will only be there for a short time. You must be there at 0100 zulu on the 23
^rd
.”

In his head, Caden converted the military time to 1900 local.

“The package will not … ah, there will be no pick up if you are late or if you,” he pointed at Caden, “are not there. Retrieve it and return.”

“How will I identify the package?”

“You will.” Weston held up his hands. “I can’t say anymore now.”

“The secrecy for this recon mission is annoying.”

David frowned. “But necessary. If you’re captured we don’t want the package compromised. In the meantime, figure out your routes to the farmhouse and back to here, but don’t draw attention to your team or the farmhouse. I’ll return in thirty-six hours with your final orders.” He stood.

“Really? Caden frowned. “You came all this way for a five minute meeting?”

“I’ve been in the area for a couple of weeks now working on parts of … well, things.” Weston held out his hand. “I’ll see you soon.”

They shook and Weston departed.

Several hours after darkness settled on the region, Caden climbed into a Zodiac boat at the edge of the Mississippi for the first recon mission. Plans had been made, weapons, radio and gear checked.

Three of his own soldiers, Sergeant Hill, Corporals Franklin and Jackson, were with him. Lieutenant Shaffer, the local guide left behind by Weston, joined them in the boat. As they started across the black water, Caden thought of all the secrecy surrounding the mission and the answers he didn’t have. His gut tense, and mouth dry, he stared into the night. What waited for them on the other side?