Braving The Storms (Strengthen What Remains Book 3) (21 page)

Chapter Thirty Seven

On the Mississippi between Missouri & Illinois, Thursday, October 22
^nd

Caden and the other four soldiers paddled and used the currents of the river to maneuver across the dark waters of the Mississippi. As they crossed, he gazed into a sky of cloud and fog. It occurred to him that, if he hadn’t come down with Kern flu, the mission would have unfolded on moonless nights. That would have been nice.

Tonight, the sliver of moon glowed faintly through the clouds and provided no useful light to their enemies. Infrared sensors and radar might still detect the boat, but at least the fog made spotting them difficult. Perhaps the clouds would hold for the next twenty-four hours and provide their natural concealment.

On the eastern bank, the five men lifted the Zodiac, climbed the forested levee, and hid the craft under limbs and leaves. Lieutenant Shaffer, the local guide left by David Weston, steered them through the trees to a slough. They followed it up a gradual slope till the trees and marsh thinned, revealing a highway ahead.

Shaffer held up his hand in a stop motion. “The New America forces patrol along the river and nearby bridges.” His whispered words were picked up by a throat mic.

Each of the other soldiers heard him over an earbud speaker. “We need to cross Highway 3, then travel northeast through the state forest.”

“Roger.” Caden nodded, leaned forward, and used a red light to study the map.

Minutes after Weston departed, he had located the farm on his chart. That presented no problem. Finding the location in unfamiliar territory at night would prove a bit more difficult. Weston trusted Lieutenant Shaffer, but Caden remained unsure how much he could rely on the man. Caden didn’t know him, and clearly, Shaffer had ties to regions controlled by Durant.

Corporal Franklin scouted north, while Sergeant Hill scouted south along the highway. Several Humvees passed in both directions, but when no headlights remained, the five rushed across the pavement into the forest. For the next hour they hiked along the tree edge in a north and east direction, roughly paralleling a branch of the Mississippi.

Shaffer motioned for the group to stop.

The team huddled near a large stump.

“We’re beyond the routine patrols.” Shaffer pointed into the darkness. “We need to cross a small road,” he whispered. “Beyond that is a railroad bridge. When there aren’t any trains coming, we need to hurry across.”

Caden held the red light close to the map. “That should bring us within a mile of the position.”

Shaffer nodded.

“Okay, then.” Caden stood. “Move out.”

As they neared the railroad bridge, the irregular chop-chop sound of helicopters disturbed the quiet of the night.

Holding his fist up, Caden signaled the others to stop. He looked up through the trees, but saw nothing.

“They’re right over our heads,” Sergeant Hill said into Caden’s ear.

He nodded and pointed, signaling the men to retreat into the woods.

As they hurried, the sound shifted, coming through the trees to the north. The chop-chop sound slid lower and then slowed.

Caden and his team continued deeper into the forest until they stumbled into a gully. “Spread out along here.”

“Camouflage yourself with branches and leaves.” Caden moved along the line, helping others. “Do not move or shoot unless fired upon,” he whispered.

With slow, cautious steps, Caden positioned himself so the men were lower in the gully on his right and carefully gathered tree branches and dirt over him. He laid on the bank with his M4 clutched in his right hand, while he waited and listened.

Several minutes later a twig snapped and then another.

Caden tensed.

The sounds came from different angles. It seemed two, and probably more, people crept toward them. Even though he only heard them, he felt certain they were soldiers moving forward in a line with weapons ready. He hoped they didn’t have infrared gear and were equally blind.

Gradually the sound of footsteps neared. The vague outline of five men appeared a mere ten feet away. Caden stared through the grass and leaves before him as the crunch of boots came closer.

A foot landed on two fingers of his left hand.

* * *

Cape Girardeau County, Missouri, Thursday, October 22
^nd

Zach wondered why he had been selected. He stared into the darkness of the Mississippi River from his foxhole on the levee. He had once heard war described as, “hours of boredom punctuated by moments of terror.” That described his life since being drafted. For several hours on the transport plane he had tried to sleep in an uncomfortable webbed seat. Then at Whiteman, they gave him food and told him to rest in the nearby barracks. By the time Zach finished eating, all the bunks were taken. He tried to sleep on the floor, and did—for a few minutes. But soon the first sergeant returned and ordered everyone into trucks for the next part of the journey. Zach found it difficult to sleep sitting upright in the truck, but almost managed it. Then jets attacked the convoy. He stumbled out of the truck and ran into the field. The truck blew up behind him throwing him to the ground.

His heart still pounded thinking about those moments of terror.

When they arrived at Cape Girardeau base camp, Zach pulled guard duty the first night. Later in the day the first sergeant told him he and twenty others had been selected for a special duty.

“You’re being sent to the Mississippi,” Fletcher said like it was an honor. “You’ll construct defensive positions along the bank and guard the area.”

While filling sandbags he saw Major Westmore and others leave in a Zodiac boat and disappear in the fog. After that he did eat some cold food and slept a couple of hours, but then found himself back along the Mississippi, and again on night guard duty.

If the New America forces didn’t kill him, the lack of sleep would.

The radio clicked twice signaling a friendly approaching. Boots on gravel broke the stillness of the night.

Zach turned to face the person. “Halt. Who goes there?”

“First Sergeant Fletcher.”

Zach recognized the voice. “Advance.”

Fletcher strode out of the black and stood beside him overlooking the water. “Have you seen anything?”

“Nothing.” Zach looked back at the river. “Except water, fog and clouds.”

“That’s what the other sentries are telling me.”

Zach wondered why such reports didn’t make him happy.

“The situation may change at any moment. Be ready. We need to hold this position until Major Westmore returns.”

Zach nodded, but had no idea why this place was so important, or where Major Westmore had gone. The tension on Fletcher’s face told him there would soon be more moments of terror.

* * *

Alexander County, Illinois, Thursday, October 22
^nd

A second foot slid in loose dirt nearby. The nearest foot pressed hard on his hand.

Caden clenched his teeth and held his breath.

The soldier steadied himself and then continued into the gully and up the other side.

After all sound of the soldiers faded, Caden rubbed his bruised fingers. Then he motioned for the team to huddle. “Somehow they know we’re here or think we might be.” He glanced at Shaffer, pondered his loyalty, and returned his gaze to the others. “I suspect soldiers are positioned along the roads and bridges. It’s too dangerous to continue to the position tonight.” He looked again to Shaffer. “Can you get us from here to the location tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

Caden didn’t want to stay in enemy territory for eighteen hours, but that seemed the best plan. “We’ll wait in this area.” Peering into the black forest, he said, “Let’s find a good location to hide.”

Chapter Thirty Eight

Alexander County, Illinois, Friday, October 23
^rd

Caden watched from the tight stand of trees where the team waited. The sun rose, crossed the sky, and once again slid low. Hours had passed since they heard soldiers or helicopters. That made him smile, but a clear sky meant a clear moonlit night. When the team moved into the open they would be visible. He huddled over his map and used the last rays of daylight to confirm the route they would use to the farmhouse. Then he waited for the sun to sink below the horizon. They would need as much darkness as nature could provide.

A couple hours later, Lieutenant Shaffer moved close. “We need to go,” he whispered.

Caden nodded, and motioned for the others to follow.

For nearly an hour, the five men moved in a northeast direction, and then reached the edge of the forest not far from their position the previous day. The road they had followed yesterday stretched out before him.

Holding his fist up, Caden signaled the others to stop. He moved behind a tree, huddled over the map and held the red light close.

Shaffer came alongside.

Caden pointed to a spot on the map.

Shaffer nodded.

They were less than two miles from their objective.

Caden turn off the light and listened for vehicles, helicopters or soldiers, but he heard only the breeze and the waters of the nearby river. Confident no hostile forces were nearby, he motioned for the men to follow.

They continued northeast along the forest edge with the road on their right for several minutes. Following the highway as it turned east, Caden spotted four soldiers guarding the crossing.

He signaled the team to back up.

Out of sight of the soldiers, Caden and Shaffer studied the map.

“Can we avoid the sentries by going this way?” Caden whispered as he traced the route with his finger.

“Maybe.” Shaffer nodded. “But there could be others.”

“We’ll deal with that when it comes.” Caden led the team across the road and into the forest on the south side. Only a few yards wide, the narrow band of woods sloped down to the river edge, and in other spots the waters reached through creating sloughs and wetlands.

Trudging through cold marsh and dark forest, progress slowed, and they struggled to remain silent. The cold waters soaked Caden’s pant legs and boots. Soon he couldn’t feel his toes.

Wet and behind schedule, they came to the edge of the woods as it sloped up toward the railroad bridge.

Caden snapped his fist up. Six soldiers, three on each end, guarded the span. They moved back, out of sight, into a grove of trees.

“Is there another way across?” Caden asked.

“No.” Shaffer shook his head. “Well, several miles upriver or back down it.”

“We could swim it,” Corporal Franklin suggested.

“Nope.” Shaffer frowned. “If hypothermia didn’t kill you the current would drag you under.”

Caden glanced at his watch. Shaffer was right about the river, but the orders were clear, he needed to be at the farmhouse in less than an hour. “Franklin, scout down river for a good crossing point. Hill, go upriver.”

Several minutes later Hill’s voice came over the radio. “Three Humvees less than a mile north and headed toward you.”

“Roger.” Caden replied as he hunkered down with Shaffer and Jackson.

Seconds later the vehicles pulled to a stop at the railroad bridge.

“What’s up sergeant?” The voice of the sentry carried on the still night air.

“We’re moving north. The traitors just launched an offensive.”

The sentry waved his arm and all six climbed into the Humvee.

The convoy continued on.

Caden warned Sergeant Hill the trucks were nearing. “After they pass, each of you make your way to the bridge and meet up with us on the other side.”

Clicks came back to him over the radio.

When the vehicles disappeared from view, Caden motioned for Shaffer and Jackson to follow, and then raced onto the span. As he neared the opposite side the sound of trucks rumbled across the night air.

“Humvees turned around. They’re coming back toward you,” Hill reported on the radio.

Caden pressed transmit. “Everyone get across the bridge as fast as possible.”

Jackson passed Caden near the end of the crossing. He followed the medic into the nearby trees. Breathing hard, Shaffer sprinted into the forest seconds later.

Franklin raced across the road and onto the span.

Caden heard vehicle engines race, but still couldn’t see them. Then automatic weapons thundered.

Franklin paused for a moment, then dashed across the bridge and into the woods.

“They spotted me.” Hill’s breathless report came over the earbud.

Alone, he raced along the forest edge toward the team.

Humvees followed.

Shots rang out.

The lone soldier fell.

The vehicles emptied. Soldiers surrounded the fallen man.

He would mourn the loss of Sergeant Hill, but now was not the time. Caden pushed the anger, sadness and self-doubt aside. He had a mission to complete and they were behind schedule. “Everyone change to the backup radio channel and move out.”

Seconds later, Franklin came alongside him. “Will the New America soldiers search for us?”

“Probably,” Caden whispered. “So shut up and move faster.” He didn’t know how far or wide, but they would search for infiltrators. Caden and his team needed to reach the rendezvous position first and then disappear into the forest—or they all might die tonight.

For several minutes the four remaining members of the team ran just inside the tree line, weaving around forest obstacles as they held a rapid pace.

Shaffer slowed and pointed to a dirt road. “Three hundred yards in that direction is the farmhouse.”

Caden breathed deeply. “Let’s go.”

The team hurried along both sides of the narrow rutted road toward the lone building ahead. Only shards of glass stood in the dark windows of the two-story wood building. Broken boards punctuated the porch railing.

Caden pulled his GPS from a pocket and checked the position. “Secure the area. This is the place.” The others spread out around the home. The wood creaked as he climbed the steps to the house. The front door stood open, but not inviting. He pushed his trepidation aside, along with the door, and stepped in.

A gun clicked near his ear.

* * *

Cape Girardeau County, Missouri, Friday, October 23
^rd

Darkness fell before Zach finished digging another defensive position. He had started counting the sandbags as he filled them, but lost track. Finally, Sergeant Garcia told the work party to get food and rest.

Yeah, like what else would Zach do with his off time? Play video games and update his social media status? He signaled to the sentries on his right and left that he was leaving the area. The guards waved them on, and returned their eyes to the river. He pulled a small knife from a pocket and punctured his new blisters as he walked to the makeshift campsite. Slowly his eyes scanned the depression in the ground that served as his new home. He sat on the barren cold earth and pulled an MRE from his rucksack. A couple minutes later he yanked it from the heating sleeve and shoveled semi-warm chicken mystery meal into his mouth.

Sleep would have been his usual next choice, but tonight a small group sat nearby reading and talking. He lay on his sleeping bag listening.

“If we can help change the course of the nation, then I think we should fight to do it,” a soldier said.

“No, Kevin, there aren’t that many of us.” A black soldier about Zach’s age protested. “What can we do?”

Kevin flipped the pages of the book in his hand. “What’s that verse in Second Chronicles say? ‘if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and I will forgive their sin and will heal their land.’”

Zach sat up, and pulled a blanket around him.

“Durant’s New America isn’t going to humble itself, pray, or change,” another soldier said.

“I’m not sure a lot of people on our own side would.”

“God’s not asking the unbelievers to do anything.” Kevin shook his head. “It says if
my people
, which are
called by my name
. We’re the ones that have to stand in the gap as it says in Ezekiel.”

Zach stood, and with the blanket still wrapped around him, moved closer. “Mind if I listen in?”

“Please, join us.” Kevin motioned for him to sit.

Zach did and immediately the black soldier introduced himself as Derrick. “Where’s that verse you mentioned?”

“Chapter twenty-two, verse thirty.” Kevin flipped through pages. Others did the same.

“I don’t have a Bible,” Zach said.

“Here take this one. We got a bunch more from a chaplain.” Kevin handed his own to him.

Zach held the pristine book to his nose. It even smelled new. “What was the verse you guys were talking about?”

Derrick helped Zach find the place.

Kevin pulled another book from his rucksack and turned the pages until he found the verse. “I sought for a man among them, that should make up the hedge, and stand in the gap before me for the land, that I should not destroy it: but I found none.”

With a pen Zach marked the verse, but he wasn’t sure what “stand in the gap,” meant. He continued to listen as the conversation turned to end times, tribulation and apocalypse. He didn’t understand most of it, and wanted to hear more, but long hours of night sentry duty, digging foxholes and the semi-warm meal all fought against him. His eyes drooped. He used an unfinished letter as a bookmark. The words of Ezekiel would have to wait for another day.

* * *

Alexander County, Illinois, Friday, October 23
^rd

Caden froze.

“Who are you?” a woman’s voice whispered. “And there is only one right answer.”

He considered ducking and grabbing for the gun, but the woman’s voice seemed familiar. He decided to try the truth. “Major Caden Westmore,” he said praying that was the right answer.

“They told me you were coming.” The arm with the gun relaxed. “But when you were late … I thought….”

“Becky? Is that you?” Caden turned and shook his head in disbelief. His old fiancée, the press secretary for Durant, stood before him. Old feelings leapt into his mind, along with anger at her choice to follow Durant. She was a traitor, but what should he do? Arrest her? “Are you the courier?”

“Courier?” She stepped closer and her long blonde hair shimmered in the moonlight. “What did they tell you?”

“Not much. There’s been a lot of secrecy.” The heavy coat, jeans and hiking boots seemed appropriate for the stealth rendezvous this night. In the time he had known her she had always dressed stylishly and feminine. Where did she get the farm clothes? He remembered her face as soft and gentle but, at least in the moonlight, he saw coldness there now. “Do you have the package?”

“I am the package!” she growled.