State of Emergency: Jack Emery 2 (8 page)

Dobbins cleared his throat. “I’ve been sitting here a long while waiting for you to wake up, you know? You’ve got an interview to do. As soon as possible.”

“Not interested. Thanks for letting me know about what happened, but I’d like to be alone now if you don’t mind.” Callum closed his eyes.

“I don’t, but my superiors would. It’s not a request. You’re a uniformed serviceman. You don’t have an option here.”

Callum sighed and opened his eyes. He’d been fed shit sandwiches by command before, but this one was a double whopper. He knew when he was beaten. The best way to get some peace was to give them a line or two that they could beam out nationally in support of the cause. Then they’d cast him as a hero and pin a medal on his chest.

“Fine.” He scooted up the bed, managing to get himself slightly elevated. It felt a bit more dignified than lying on his back.

“I’m glad you’ve seen the value in what we’re trying to do.” Dobbins smiled as he pulled out his cell phone and walked back to the door. “You’re going to be a star.”

***

“Please, buddy.” Jack held out his hands, pleading for the other man to listen. “We just found out that my girlfriend is pregnant and our home is rubble.”

The man had his hands gripped tightly around the bars of the security gate as if it were a life raft. His eyes narrowed. “What’s it worth to you?”

Jack looked back over his shoulder, half expecting to see troops. He dug into his pocket and counted his cash. “Seventy bucks and my watch?”

With a nod, the other man unlocked the security gate, opened it and held out his hand. Jack unclasped his Tissot and handed it over with the cash. Once he had the loot in hand, the man stepped aside and let them past. Jack led the way inside and Elena followed as they took the stairs two at a time, racing for the rooftop. He hoped the position was worth the price of admission, but figured the rooftop of the five-story low-rise was the best view they’d get.

He still couldn’t believe he was back in the middle of a warzone. As soon as they’d escaped the tank at the apartment, he’d demanded answers. She hadn’t blanched and had explained how Major General Anthony Stern and the leadership of the 38th Infantry Division had chosen to liberate Indianapolis. Guerrilla Radio was to cover it all and Elena firmly believed that it was the birthing of the resistance. The conflict had been brutally brief as it rolled across the city and they’d filmed some of it.

Jack reached the roof and ran toward the edge. It gave a commanding view of the streets surrounding Indianapolis State House. “This is perfect.”

“Brilliant spot, Jack.” Elena’s breathing was heavy as she stopped beside him. “I reckon you might have done this before?”

“Couple of times, yeah.” Jack smiled and looked back to the street. “This is my personal best, though.”

The State House held the headquarters and administration hub for FEMA in the city. Elena had wanted to film the minute the last defenders surrendered, to put the final flourish on the footage they’d collected. Jack had agreed and they’d lucked across the guy at the entrance to the building. It was a good thing for two reasons: Jack preferred to be above the action to get better quality footage, and they were less likely to be shot at.

He leaned down and rummaged around in his pack, pulling out his camera. As he looked out from the roof, the final act was drawing to a close. While the result hadn’t been in doubt – the 38th had cut through the State Guard like balsawood – the final act still needed to play out. With the conflict confined to isolated skirmishes there hadn’t been a mass exodus of civilians from the city and, as far as Jack knew, the only remaining State Guard defensive positions in the city were at the State House.

Now he had a better view of those defenses, he was unimpressed. Sandbags and a few hard points were about as complicated as it got. Jack knew it wouldn’t hold up against the attackers and he’d found it hard to understand why they were still fighting, until he’d turned on the radio and heard over the broadcast that the army was executing anyone who surrendered. Jack didn’t believe it, but the average guardsman might.

Elena stood and pointed. “Here comes the army, Jack. They’re not messing around, are they?”

Jack lifted the binoculars he’d stolen from a camping store from around his neck. Army units were advancing from three directions. “It’s a ton of hardware.”

Elena nodded and crouched lower behind the safety wall on the roof of the building. “We’re safe up here, right?”

Jack laughed, despite the situation. “As safe as it gets in the middle of two groups of combat troo—”

“Fucking hell!” Elena ducked in response to the boom of a tank’s cannon less than a mile away.

An explosion flared near the State House. Jack swung the binoculars toward it and could see several State Guard troops scattered and unmoving among their defensive positions. “Don’t they know there’re civilians inside? That old stone building won’t hold up against this kind of pounding.”

Elena checked her phone, which she’d been using to patch into some sort of feed of information relating to the attack. “Um. The army doesn’t know that. Stern has demanded they surrender, but they’ve refused. FEMA is saying that ‘terrorists’ are executing all prisoners.”

Jack started to stand. “Keep filming.”

Elena looked at him with wide eyes. “Where the hell are you going?”

“To stop a slaughter and prevent a stake through the heart of your rebellion.”

“But—”

“You think it’s good vision for your friends to flatten an iconic building full of civilians? Just keep filming! And tell the army to cool their heels!”

He broke into a run toward the edge of the rooftop, not waiting for her response. He started down the fire escape, a stream of thoughts rushing through his head, mostly involving how stupid an idea this was. He didn’t even have anything identifying him as a member of the press. As he descended the stairs two at a time, he unzipped his jacket and tore at his T-shirt. It would make a passable white flag.

He reached the street and broke into a sprint across the park, towards the State House. As he drew closer, he took some solace from the fact that the tanks had stopped firing. He didn’t know whether the advance had stopped or not, but as he came to the attention of the State Guardsmen behind the sandbags, he was suddenly aware of several weapons pointing in his direction.

“Whoa! Whoa! Fellas!” Jack held up his hands, his voice as loud as he could make it. “I’m neutral.”

One of the Guardsman spoke from down his sights. “What do you want, pal? You got a death wish or something? Army is hitting us hard. Go back to your home.”

“You guys don’t have a chance.” Jack stood firm. “There’re two brigades gunning for you.”

“You don’t think we know that?” The same trooper sounded angry now. “We’re boxed in and they’re not taking prisoners.”

Jack thought about arguing, but thought better of it. “If I can negotiate a release, will you consider it?”

They paused and looked at each other. Finally, the leader of the unit shrugged. “You get us a guarantee of safety and we’ll withdraw with our civilian staff.”

Jack nodded. He doubted the army was interested in killing any more State Guardsman than necessary to take the city, but knew they wouldn’t stop until their foes were rooted out and the city was theirs. Jack saw a chance to save lives and also give Guerrilla Radio and the resistance a huge public relations victory. Now he just had to make it happen. 

He raised his hands into the air again and walked toward the army forces encircling the State House. He half expected to be met with gunfire, but he inched closer, one foot in front of the other, until finally he reached the forward elements of the army. He was ushered away by soldiers to a Humvee in the rear. Jack kept his arms high as an older officer climbed out of the Humvee.

The officer rubbed his salt and pepper moustache. “Who the fuck are you, son? I see you walking out on your own and I get a message telling me that you’re a friendly?”

“I’m Jack Emery.” Jack kept deathly still. “The forces guarding the State House want to walk out of the city, but think you’ll kill them if they surrender.”

“That explains a few things, then.” The old soldier removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “You’re sure they’ll budge without me having to kick the door in?”

“Yep.” Jack hoped he was right. “Make them an offer and they’ll take it. I’ve got a colleague up on the rooftops ready to film the withdrawal.”

The officer considered Jack’s words for a moment, nodded and then walked back to the Humvee. Jack swallowed. The air was electric. He thought back to the scared men behind the sandbags. These were two groups of angry and tense men – one stray shot and hot lead would start flying. He wished he could see the State House, but he was too far away.

He just hoped for an outcome that he and Elena could work with.

“Administrator Hall?”

Richard was instantly alert. He rolled over on the sofa as he rubbed his eyes and reached for his glasses. He felt like he’d been awake for days. There was just too much to do. “What is it?”

Rebecca Bianco smiled down at him sympathetically. His chief liaison with the State Guard looked as fresh as morning dew. “I’ve received confirmation that all elements are in place and ready.”

“What time is it?” He sighed and sat up. He was in a small office on the outskirts of Indianapolis. Since the city had fallen and the remaining State Guard had withdrawn, he’d flown in to take control of the situation personally.

“Early, sir. I’ll give you a minute.” Bianco turned and walked out of the room.

Richard ran his hands across his face a few times, trying to wake up. As he did, he thought about the situation. The occupation of Indianapolis was the greatest challenge to his authority yet, given the extent to which Guerrilla Radio and the resistance were claiming it as a victory. He wasn’t worried by general friction – gun-nut militias in the south and protestors waving placards in Washington – because he’d expected such agitation.

What he hadn’t expected was elements of the US military rebelling. Had they no respect for order and stability? Couldn’t they see the merit in what he was doing? His entire effort to bring peace to America was based on the removal of some individual rights to the greater benefit of everyone. It also relied on the authorities doing their jobs, no matter what was asked of them, in order to get results. The assault by the 38th contravened both of these. It was a cigarette flicked into dry grass, igniting a wildfire.

He’d called in a huge number of State Guard from all over Indiana and neighboring states to surround the city and, if necessary, retake it. It had left other parts of the country bare, but this situation had to be put down. If the 38th were allowed to dictate terms here, and Guerrilla Radio were able to claim it as a victory against the express will and authority of Richard and FEMA, chaos would break out across the country. But he’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this.

He climbed to his feet and walked out of the small office. Bianco was waiting. “They haven’t responded to our ultimatum?”

“Not quite, sir.” She paused.

“Tell me.”

“It came in a few minutes ago.” Bianco looked down at her papers. “I’m told that the formal response was ‘Tell that little tin Hitler to fuck himself’, sir.”

Richard laughed. “I thought it might be along those lines. Very well. Issue one final ultimatum: The 38th Infantry Division has thirty minutes to surrender. If they don’t, order all drone commands to execute their orders. At that point we’ll re-evaluate and decide whether to send in ground troops.”

Bianco’s sharp intake of breath told him his chance of a nap was lost. “They let our people walk out of the city. You’re going to flatten the whole lot?”

Richard stared at her. “I’m giving them one more chance to surrender. That’s one more than terrorists deserve. We can’t let them hold this city.”

“It’s the United States Army, Administrator!”

Richard sighed and stared at the wall. He didn’t understand why some of his junior staff found it so difficult to comprehend the necessity of action like this. An agenda as ambitious as the one he was pursuing required extreme action. The quicker others fell into line, the quicker life would get back to normal, and the less extreme his measures had to be.

“I don’t enjoy doing this, Rebecca. Indianapolis should be safe from unmanned drones raining Hellfire missiles on it. But they’ve left me no choice!” She didn’t looked convinced. Richard didn’t care. He started to talk again, but paused briefly. He smiled. “Actually, I’ve changed my mind.”

Her eyes widened, then she exhaled deeply and smiled back at him. “I’m so glad, sir. I think it would have been a mistake to—”

“You misunderstand.”

“Wh—”

“No ultimatum. No opportunity for surrender.” He talked over her. “Give the go ahead to drone commanders. I want the 38th Infantry Division destroyed.”

She seemed to be on the verge of refusing him, but eventually nodded and picked up a radio. “General? This is Rebecca Bianco. The administrator has given the order.”

Richard was under no illusion that this would be painless – there would obviously be casualties, but they concerned him less than the public relations issues. The continued success of Guerrilla Radio and its role in the growth of the resistance was becoming a real problem. It concerned him far more than rooting the army out of Indianapolis. It needed to be crushed.

After a few moments, Bianco spoke into the radio again. “Affirmative, General. No final warning. The order is correct.”

Richard reached into his pocket and pulled out his tin of breath mints. He popped the lid, shook one into his hand and put it in his mouth. As he started to suck on the mint, he held the container out to Bianco. She shook her head and watched him in silence, with a look he was sure was disgust. But she maintained her professionalism and kept her feelings to herself. He appreciated that and smiled at her gently. She was young. She still had the luxury of a conscience.

He didn’t require everyone to believe in what was being done. Though it was preferable, so many government employees had become so used to mediocre leadership that they didn’t recognize the decisive, inspired kind when they saw it. FEMA had been the same when he’d taken over, after Katrina. Shellshocked staff had hated him at first, but grown to regard him as a legend. The same would happen across America once he solved this crisis. It would be his legacy.  

No, he didn’t need everyone to love him. He just needed them to do their jobs.

***

Jack was standing at the front of the State House chambers, watching as General Stern and his senior officers held an impromptu staff meeting inside the beautiful rooms. The midday sun was peeking through the windows, causing hell with his attempts to film the meeting. It was a good problem to have, though. Being inside the building meant they’d won the battle. Afterwards it had taken less than an hour for General Stern and his staff to take up residence in the building and begin planning the next phase of their operation: the spread of their area of control to the towns of Anderson, Franklin and Martinsville.

Jack had been allowed inside the chambers with Elena to film the opening few minutes of the meeting. It was nothing but platitudes and backslapping, but it was important to broadcast to America that the adults were back in charge, at least in this small part of the country. It felt like, with the capture of Indianapolis, the first strike had been made in getting things back to normal. He hoped a proper resistance might start to form in place of a few tin-pot militias and Guerrilla Radio. For Jack, it was also the first time he felt part of it all.

He kept filming as Stern looked straight at him and spoke. “Finally, I’d like to say that freedom is our birth right as citizens of this country. We must take it back.”

Jack stopped recording. “Thanks, General, that should play well. You’ve done good work here.”

Stern nodded. “We’re about to discuss things that aren’t fit for public consumption, so we’ll need some privacy.”

“No problem, General. We might make a nuisance of ourselves talking to some of your troops.”

The general looked down at his papers and started talking to his officers. As Jack and Elena packed up and moved toward the exit, Jack reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. She looked at him and smiled warmly. He was about to open his mouth to say something when a thunderclap filled his ears and a flash of light seared his eyes. He was thrown forward several feet and landed hard on the carpeted floor.

He could see a glow and hear more explosions.
Explosions. Trying to stay low, behind cover. Others not so lucky. Fire.

He felt heat.
People burning. Screaming.

He heard someone shout his name. 
A child in his mother’s arms. Crying.

He felt someone touch him.
A hand reaches out to help the mother. She falls, limp. The hand catches the child.

He was being shaken. The shouting was right in his ear. 
The hand is his. He turns the child over. He’s already dead.

Jack rolled onto his back and shook his head, finally recognizing what was happening. The explosions weren’t in Homs, they were in Indianapolis – the Indianapolis State House. He looked up at Elena, who had a mix of fear and relief painted on her features. She held out a hand. Jack took it, using her help to get up off the ground. His entire body was sore, the numb replaced by a deep ache.

“Thanks.”

“We need to go, Jack. We need to go now.” She started to jog.

He looked back. Where the general and his staff had been there was now only death and fire. He followed her as quickly as he could, trying to figure out what was happening as the building was rocked by another explosion. Stern had been the most senior military officer in the local rebellion and a chance to become the figurehead of the entire resistance. His success would have led to others taking notice. Asking questions. Now he was dead.

Jack flinched and ducked instinctively as more explosions boomed in the distance, adding to the cacophony now rolling through the city. Whoever was attacking had started with the command and control of Stern’s army and was now attacking the secondary targets. He pushed himself to catch up with Elena. She was out of sight, but when he rounded a corner she was standing near the exit.

“They’re hitting the city, Jack.” Her voice cracked. “Are you okay now? What was all that back there?”

“The result of too many close calls like this.” He held her gaze. “Sorry, I’m fine now. We need to go.”

He’d thought his flashback days were finished, but Homs had obviously stayed with him. That was a problem for later. For now, they had to get the hell out of Indianapolis, because if the hammer was coming down on the city then the State House was the head of the nail. They’d delayed too long and had nearly paid the ultimate price. He doubted the 38th would be in control of the city for very much longer under this sort of bombardment.

The two soldiers guarding the foyer didn’t try to stop them as they ran past and pushed the heavy wooden doors open. Outside, Jack stopped on the steps and stared, mouth agape. The city was ablaze. The missile through the window of the council chambers looked to be the least of their problems, with explosions blooming and smoke rising from three dozen places. A tank in the street ahead burned. He ran, away from the State House and back into the city, with Elena right behind him.

They covered a mile before they were back among the buildings, explosions all around but safe for the time being. He couldn’t hear aircraft, so it was clearly drones doing the damage. He couldn’t believe FEMA and the State Guard would attack a city so indiscriminately. After another hundred yards, he slowed then stopped. His breath came in ragged chunks and Elena panted next to him, hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

“Jack.” Her voice was strained. “This has all gone to shit. I don't know what to do. 
Where are we going?
”

“To get the car and get out of here. Any troops left in this city will be dead within the day. We don’t want to be here when FEMA rolls back into town.”

“Okay. Let's do that.” She looked up at him, and despite her words he saw doubt on her face.

“This place was a false hope. We’re going to New York. It’s where we should have gone in the first place.”

***

“Thanks so much, Stephanie.” Mariposa handed the sitter a handful of notes. “Same time tomorrow, if that’s okay?”

The other woman gave a weary smile and then turned and walked away. Mariposa closed the door behind her and placed her keys in the bowl next to the front door. She sighed as she kicked her shoes off then leaned with her back against the door, feeling as if that was all that was holding her up. She closed her eyes for several seconds, then opened them and walked to Juan’s room.

She eased the door open, careful to make sure it didn’t screech, then entered the room. In the illumination provided by Juan’s nightlight, she scooped up a few toys between the door and the bed and deposited them in the corner. The sitter could worry about them tomorrow – she was here for one reason. She sat on the edge of the bed and smiled, reaching out and running her thumb down her son’s cheek.

Juan was asleep, curled up on his side and hugging his teddy. She stroked his cheek again, then his hair. Guilt hit her like a wave and she fought back tears. She felt like she’d missed the last few months of his life, spending eighty hours a week at the office and relying exclusively on a sitter. She told herself it was necessary and that her job was important, but the guilt threatened to overwhelm her.

She made sure he was tucked in, determined that she’d spend breakfast with him before going into the office. She flicked off the nightlight and crept back through the door. Walking to her own bedroom, she emptied her pockets onto the bed. Amid the usual dross of her day – crumpled-up post-its and a few pens – she found a pamphlet she’d been handed on her way to lunch. She opened it.

It was a small A5 brochure with black and white lettering. It had a small map with a circle around Indianapolis, Indiana, with the words
LIBERATION STARTS HERE
across the top, and
GUERILLA RADIO
along the bottom. She screwed it up and went to work unbuttoning her blouse. She wasn’t much interested in propaganda. From either side. Nobody had come out of the mess in Indianapolis looking good.