State of Emergency: Jack Emery 2 (20 page)

After another moment, someone ducked down to her level and tried to speak with her, she couldn’t shift her eyes from the bodies, but nor would she show emotion. She’d taken hundreds of lives, but the human mind – no matter how hard and conditioned to the trade of death – had no answer for grief when loved ones were taken. Like the finest sports stars and musicians, she’d fallen for the classic trap: trying to stay on top for a little bit too long.

She glanced at the man in front of her for just a moment, then back at her dead team members. In the recesses of her mind, the fact that the man was in uniform registered. It was a strange development, but she had neither the time nor the mental capacity to fully process the information before a hard blow hit her in the back of the head. She barely stayed conscious, then a second blow hit home.

“
Hey.
” The voice sounded like it was underwater. Underwater. And far away. “
Hey, shitbag.
”

She blacked out again.

“
Who do you work for?
” The same voice. Deep underwater.

More questions followed, but she registered only every second word and couldn’t follow. Her head felt light and she had a pounding headache. She tried to sit up, but failed and retched. The two standing in front of her as she lay on the ground stepped backward as she puked and then blacked out again. She woke a few more times and briefly resisted their questioning. Then she blacked out for good.

Jack looked at his watch and wondered again how the Marines did this every day. It was early and the sun hadn’t come up, yet as Jack stood and waited for the caffeine to kick in Fort Sheridan was a hive of activity. All around him soldiers readied their equipment and vehicles as he slurped down the last of his coffee. Truth be told, he felt a bit useless, watching as the men and women on the base worked.

Ortiz and his officer colleagues had delivered. The two battalions of the 24th Marine Regiment had made their way to Chicago under the guise of exercises, but now approximately 2000 men and women were gathered and ready to move. It wasn’t an overwhelming force – a drop in the ocean against what Hall could command between the military and the State Guard – but Jack had to hope it would be enough to get the job done.

“Time to go?” He smiled as Ortiz approached in his combat fatigues. “Guess I don’t have time for a second coffee?”

Ortiz nodded. “Our scouts are reporting that there’s very little between us and the target. We’re lucky. If they knew its importance it’d be fortified further.”

“Will it work?”

“It might.” Ortiz ran a hand through his hair and scratched his head. “We’ll surprise them, and we’ll have decoy attacks going on all over the city during the main push.”

“Just have to hope we’re in business before they realize what’s happening, I guess.” Jack shrugged. “Shame we don’t have that terrorist bitch to parade around though.”

Ortiz grunted. Both Jack and Ortiz had been furious at the marine who’d hit the woman in the back of the head with his carbine. The blow had concussed her and rendered her useless. Though Jack had some cell phone footage of her mentioning Richard Hall and the other attacks, he hadn’t managed to get to the bottom of who she was or why she’d cooperated with Hall before she’d died. The ambush hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped, but at least Elena’s fiancé had been freed. If nothing else, if the plan failed, Jack would die knowing that he’d stopped a nasty woman and her friends from further acts of terror. He’d wanted more information to hang Hall with, but anything she could have given him would have been a cherry on top of the greatest cake ever made. He had enough to crucify Hall, if he could get the word out.

“Showtime.” Ortiz walked toward the main vehicle convoy. “Let’s go.”

Jack passed dozens of men and women hard at work as he approached the Humvee he’d been assigned to. Some nodded, some stared, some ignored him – but all of them had a crazy day ahead. He was glad that Mariposa’s information had apparently convinced enough of Ortiz’s fellow officers to mobilize the entire regiment. So much force didn’t guarantee success, but it was more than he’d hoped for.

“This is where I leave you, Jack. You got everything you need?” Ortiz looked at him with some skepticism.

Jack couldn’t blame Ortiz for any doubt he harbored. Jack had been through a lot and was about to ride into a firestorm once again. From Afghanistan to the battle against the Foundation for a New America to Syria to the struggle against FEMA, he’d seen more conflict and experienced more pain than most. Now he was asking Ortiz and his comrades to risk their lives. Ortiz wasn’t saying anything, but Jack knew he had doubts.

He patted the satchel that he carried on his shoulder. “Mariposa Esposito made sure of it. I’m ready, Omega.”

“Okay.” Ortiz slapped him on the back. “See you on the other side, Jack. You stay frosty, buddy.”

Jack nodded. His mouth was dry and he wanted more than anything to turn around, but the time for second thoughts had passed. He put his hand on the door, opened it and smiled when he saw who was inside. The shapeless combat fatigues and her combat vest did nothing to hide her attractiveness. From the flame-colored hair downward, she was a sight he was grateful to have back in his life. He smiled and climbed in.

“Howdy stranger.” Celeste smiled at him. “I thought I’d surprise you.”

“Hey.”

“You alright?” She could clearly read his concern. When he was seated and settled, she placed a hand on his knee and squeezed it. “It’s going to be okay.”

He nodded, smiled as bravely as he could and placed his hand on top of hers. As the driver gunned the engine, he shifted slightly in his seat to face her. “One for the road?”

Celeste beamed. They held each other as tightly as they could in the confines of the armored vehicle and kissed deeply. His hands started to explore her body, despite the unflattering battle gear, until the driver of the vehicle turned around and cleared his throat. It was as if a trance was broken. They separated and straightened themselves out. The driver turned back to the front, focused on getting the vehicle ready.

Jack smiled. “Sorry, got carried away.”

Celeste gave him one more peck on the lips. “Until later.”

The driver looked at him in the mirror and laughed. Jack flushed red. He wasn’t usually easy to embarrass, but the thought of career soldiers seeing his flirtations was a little much. They settled in, ready for the ride, their clasped hands the only sign that they’d shared such an embrace just a moment earlier. If he’d had his way, she wouldn’t be here at all, but they all had a role to play. Jack turned and watched as the convoy prepared to head toward his assignment and his destiny.

“Comms check.” He heard Ortiz’s voice over the radio network.

For the next few minutes, he was distracted by vehicles checking in and diesel engines starting. It was funny, the last time he’d been inside a Humvee he’d nearly died, but now all this hardware was on his side, the crews were fighting for the same thing he was and he was alongside the woman he thought he might love. He just hoped he made it to the other side of the firestorm that was to come.

He hoped they’d all make it.

***

“Fucking hell.” Callum raised his binoculars. “Fucking hell.”

He’d thought his mind was playing tricks on him, but the powerful binoculars showed him the truth: there was a convoy of a dozen or so US Marine Corps vehicles rolling down the street. He lowered his binoculars, gripped his carbine and then gave a quick shout for his men to get ready. He had ten men to defend the position. Nowhere near enough.

Callum keyed his headset. “Command, this is post 457, we’ve got a situation here.”

There was a long pause. In the time it took for a response to come in, the convoy grew from a speck in the distance to being highly visible. He could count at least twelve Humvees, enough to carry more men than he could handle. He nearly considered keying the radio again and repeating the report when, finally, it chirped in his ear.

“Be advised, 457, the entire 24th Marine Regiment has entered Chicago and elements are approaching a dozen different targets. You’re to hold your position and await orders.”

“Understood.” The radio went silent and Callum shook his head. He called out to one of his men. “Bring me the horn!”

He gripped his carbine tightly as one of his men ran over with the megaphone. He had no idea what the 24th Marines were up to, but doubted they were on a tour of the city. He was astonished that they hadn’t learned from Hall’s response to Indianapolis, which had involved a far larger unit than a few thousand Marines. But he had to deal with the situation.

He waited until they closed to within a block, then lifted the megaphone. “This is Sergeant Callum Watkins, Illinois State Guard. Stand down!”

The response was swift. Callum instinctively ducked as the machine gunners on the Humvees all zeroed in on his position, but held their fire. He knew the difficult truth, that his men would lose a fire fight against the approaching convoy. They had no heavy equipment and were staring down the barrel of armored vehicles and better armed Marines.

He keyed the megaphone again. “Last chance before I have to order my men to open fire. Please, brothers.”

He doubted they’d comply. Even if they stood down, their march on this building made them outlaws. They’d taken up arms against FEMA and the guard, which meant Richard Hall would crush them. Callum knew they had reasons to be concerned: the executions, the imprisonments, the squeezing of average Americans. But he didn’t think this was the way to bring about change.

When his second plea achieved nothing he put down the megaphone, raised his carbine and ordered his men to do the same. Certain that fighting would erupt at any second, he was astounded when a flame-haired woman pushed her way past the Marines and held her hands up. His eyes widened as he made the connection in his mind. It was the woman he’d freed. Celeste Adams.

“Don’t shoot.” Her plea was laced with fear and doubt. “Please, I’m coming up the stairs.”

Callum kept his weapon trained on her, even as she advanced on their defensive position and as the doubts ricocheted around his head. If he’d lacked the resolve to shoot her in the detention center, there was next to no chance he was going to do it now and spark a fire fight between the State Guard and the US Marine Corps. He gave a guttural growl and lowered his weapon.

“Let her approach!” Callum radioed to his squad. “Repeat, let her through.”

Confirmation came in from his other soldiers. None of them sounded convinced, or particularly happy, but there wasn’t any protest. Nobody fancied the prospect of going toe to toe with what was in front of them. Though Callum and his squad were entrenched enough that they’d cause some damage, it would be futile. There was nothing inside the building worth dying over.

Celeste Adams reached the top of the stairs and waited a few feet from Callum’s position. He put his carbine down and stood, confident that his men would keep him covered. When no shots were unleashed from the Marine column, he started to hope that maybe there was a resolution to this mess. He moved slowly, walked over to her and shook her hand.

“You’re mad, you know that?” Callum sighed and shook his head. “You were half a chance to get your head blown off just there.”

“I know.” She smiled wider. “But once I heard your voice, I had to try. I’d heard it enough times over the camp intercom.”

He smiled, despite the tension. “What can I do for you?”

She shrugged. “I’m trying to save the lives of you and your men. I owe you that much. It’s up to you what happens next.”

Callum reached up and scratched his chin, shocked that it had come to this. He thought back to when he’d been hunting in the forest with Todd and Mike. They’d been naive then. It was hard to believe he’d allowed himself to be so corrupted by the State Guard. He’d signed up originally for some nice cash once he left the army, not to be the hammer that smashed the American people against the FEMA anvil. He didn’t want to do this anymore.

He stood taller and lifted his carbine high over his head. He hoped that there wasn’t a trigger-happy kid among the Marines, because that’s all it would take to start a fire fight. But a shot never came. Slowly, as Callum looked around, he could see the others in the unit adopt a similar posture. The message was clear: Come and get it, but leave us alone while you do. He looked back down the stairs. The Marines were already bounding up them.

As the Marines reached the top, one unarmed man raced up to Celeste and kissed her deeply. When they broke their embrace, he laughed. “You’re crazy, do you know that?”

Callum laughed hard. In front of him was the most wanted man in America. His eyes flicked between Celeste Adams and the new arrival. “Just my luck you’d end up here.”

Celeste stepped between them. “Jack Emery, this man saved my life, whose name I don’t actually know.”

“Callum Watkins.”

Emery’s eyes narrowed and he said nothing for a few moments. He seemed to be considering what she’d told him against the other misdeeds he no doubt assumed Callum had committed in the State Guard uniform. Eventually, Emery nodded and held out his hand. Callum shook it. Emery seemed to be in charge of the assault and Callum could nearly feel the collective sigh of relief from his men when peace appeared to be made.

“Celeste has told me the story about you freeing her from Effingham.” Emery’s voice had a sharpness to it. “I don’t condone anything your side has done, but thanks.”

Callum nodded. “I can’t expect anything else. So what now?”

“What now?” Emery laughed. “We start to end this thing.”

“Here? There’s nothing in here.” Callum paused. “Is there?”

Emery just laughed again and shook his head. He turned and gestured to one of his companions, a Marine captain who appeared to be in command. As the troops moved forward to detain him, Callum looked to the bottom of the stairs, where vehicles sat like giant sentinels, warning that the game was up. Marines poured over the State Guard defensive positions and took his men captive.

He nearly jumped into the air when the radio in his headset chirped. “Post 457, this is command. If it proves impossible to hold your facility, you’re to destroy it.”

Callum laughed. He laughed hard, and couldn’t stop.

His war was over.

***

“Jack?” Ortiz stuck his head into the office. “We’re out of time. We need to go. Now.”

Jack looked up from the computer. “But I’m—”

Ortiz held up a hand. “Aircraft incoming. We haven’t got the gear to defend this position.”

Jack knew better than to argue with Ortiz over issues such as these. The vehicles had bugged out an hour ago, moving on to the next target and hoping to sow confusion in FEMA Command about what they were dealing with. He was glad they’d been able to take the broadcast center without any bloodshed, but it was folly to think that luck could last. Two dozen feint attacks by the Marines across Chicago had opened the door for Jack and the others to do what was needed. The military force had been the can opener and Jack had found what he’d needed inside.