Sweetness in the Dark (19 page)

The driver noticed the tears on the general’s face. “Sir, I can put the windshield up if the wind is bothering you. We just like it down for a free fire zone.”

“No, Sergeant, the wind feels good,” Ed said and left it at that.

The column wound up the pass and entered Idaho. The crew that had cleared the last of the snow stood by and cheered the troops as they passed. Ed stopped his Jeep to check in with the men that had provided security while the road crew worked. They would join the force heading to Washington.

Wallace was the first large town the column reached. Ed drove up the left lane past the stopped vehicles to the front Stryker Company.

“Captain, have we cleared Wallace yet?” Ed asked.

“Sir, the scouts are just returning now.”

Three motorcycles pulled up and the man in charge shut down his engine. Saluting as he climbed off, he stood at attention. Ed noticed the man had to be at least sixty. His pot belly protruded from the massive belt buckle on his tight jeans. The other two riders were of similar age and physique. Ed marveled at the army he led.

“Sergeant Wilder, of the Third Scout Platoon, reporting, Sir. The rest of the platoon has moved on to Kellogg. Wallace is a ghost town. Not a soul in sight. Fair number of bodies scattered around, though.”

“Thank you Sergeant. May I ask what outfit you served in?”

“Third Rifle Company of the Second Battalion, Americal Division, 1968 to 1969 in the Republic of Vietnam, Sir.”

“Well, Sergeant. I’m proud to have you and your men with us today. Thank you for your service,” Ed said.

“No need to thank us, Sir. Finally have a war that came to America. Couldn’t sit at home for this one. Proud to serve with the general,” the sergeant said.

“Then carry on. Go find us some bad guys.”

“I’ll be happy to oblige the general on that one, Sir.” Sergeant Wilder and his accompanying riders climbed back on their bikes and zoomed off towards Kellogg.

Ed realized that the noise alone would send the bad guys up into the hills. As he motioned the captain to get the Strykers moving, one of the bodyguards walked up with two citizens. They had a similar appearance as the earlier group.

“General, this man claims to be the mayor of Wallace. He came down the road over there with a white flag raised. He’s asked to speak to the commander.”

“General, thank you for finally arriving. Most of the town folk still alive are holed up in the mine shafts above the city. They sent us down to make sure you were on the right side. I recognized you from when you spoke to the Idaho Mayors Conference.”

“Well Mr. Mayor, we have food and supplies back in the column that can keep your citizens alive until full service is restored. We have an armored train opening up the rail link between Sandpoint and Missoula. We’ll connect up with the rail in Coeur d’ Alene and supplies will follow,” Ed offered.

“Thank you, General. Thank you,” the mayor said.

“Mr. Mayor. May I ask, how bad was it for your town?”

“General, I know from our conferences that Boise knew they couldn’t guarantee northern Idaho’s safety in such an event as happened. We took it upon ourselves here in Wallace to set aside ‘beans, bullets and Band-Aids’ as the term is used. When the thugs showed up, we were ready to move into the mines that litter the mountains around us. The gangs tried once to come up into the mountains, but they didn’t try a second time, if you know what I mean.”

“I do, Sir. Well done then. I hope other cities took a similar attitude.”

“Many did. Some didn’t. The Coeur d’ Alene City Council was overloaded with liberals that thought climate change was the most immediate threat. Unfortunately, they spent their money on reducing greenhouse gases. Bad choice as it turned out,” the mayor answered with a certain ironic demeanor.

Ed climbed back into the Stryker and the column moved out. They progressed down the Silver Valley, named for all the silver extracted from the mines. The riches had played out decades ago, leaving piles of mine tailings.

The UAS Army advanced toward the lake country of northern Idaho. Once this had been one of the most desirable retirement areas in the country. It was known nationally by airline pilots as ‘the place’ to hang up your rudder.

As the column approached the city along the lake, the scouts were waiting by the side of the freeway. Ed climbed down out of his armored vehicle. “Sergeant Wilder, again. Something to report?” Ed asked.

“With pleasure, Sir. The rest of the platoon is observing the Northern Idaho College campus. Reports by a few locals that came out of hiding state that the warlord of the area is holed up there.”

“Well, you get your wish, Sergeant. Seems like we have some bad guys to eliminate.” Ed motioned for his assigned assault team to rendezvous with the sergeant and get briefed. Ed walked back so his team could do their job without his interference.

He reached the main communication truck carrying the radio. He would take the time to check on the progress of his other columns. Far to the south, a column of similar size advanced out of Ontario, Oregon, towards Burns.
This had been friendly country from the beginning and the advance should be rapid
, Ed thought.

A third column was advancing up Interstate 80 towards Portland. Again this was friendly country. The bridges leading into eastern Oregon had been blown, cutting this area off from any refugee drift from the large cities to the west. Additionally, the column had a rail link for support.

“How’s the situation to the south, Sergeant?” Ed asked.

“Task Force Alpha reached Burns and is pressing on. The Harney County Rangers have had a defensive line established at Riley and they should reach that in about another hour. They plan on gassing up all the vehicles before pushing on toward Bend.”

“And Task Force Beta? Any reports?”

“Yes, Sir. Making good time through the Blue Mountains as they head toward Pendleton. Baker City and La Grande were in good shape and the locals were ecstatic when our guys reached them. It means regular train service with supplies. Our truck convoys over the last few months have kept them alive but it’s been tight for them,” the sergeant reported.

“Well, they have a big logistical problem coming up. Repairing the John Day River Bridges so they can continue west will slow them down,” Ed said. “They have an experienced Army Engineer unit with them that we squeezed out of the Wyoming National Guard. They should get it done.”

Ed was interrupted by the Stryker captain looking for him. “Sir, we’ve worked our plan of attack. If you’d like to join us, we’re ready. There’s just enough daylight for us to go today.”

“Thank you, Captain. Move out and I’ll catch up presently,” Ed said. He radioed his subordinate commanders in the two other task forces his situation. Then he signaled Cheyenne and made a report for the Governor’s Council that ran the country until the Constitutional Convention had finished deliberating.

By the time Ed caught up with the assault force, the battle was practically over. He observed the six Stryker armored cars surrounding the campus area. Bad guys littered the green grass where they had attempted to escape. The action now seemed to be concentrated on a large house on the banks of Lake Coeur d’ Alene.

“General, we have the last bad guys cornered in the college president’s house. Most of them tried to bug out the back door when they heard us drive up. We hit them with automatic fire from the Strykers and that put that issue to rest,” the captain said.

“Good. How soon will you be ready to go after the house?”

“That’s our problem, Sir. They yelled that they have hostages inside. We’ve heard women screaming. The men are awaiting orders.”

Just then Colonel Schmol walked up. As Commanding Officer of Task Force Delta, he was in overall command of the column. “General, we seem to have a dilemma. We rush the building and maybe innocent civilians die. We wait, and people down the road suffer longer.”

“What are your intentions then, Colonel? It’s your call. I’m just an observer here, so to speak,” Ed said.

“I think we offer terms, Sir.”

“Alright Colonel, your show.”

The colonel motioned to one of his lieutenants to tie off a white flag. The Stryker captain offered to walk forward to negotiate. Ed listened as the captain talked to the supposed warlord.

Soon the captain returned. “He and his men will surrender, in return for a promise that they won’t be killed. They say they have ten hostages inside that they will kill if we rush the place. He tried to get a car and free passage out of here, but I said that wasn’t going to happen,”

“I don’t like dealing with these killers. But if there are ten innocent people inside, we don’t want to start off with that kind of blood on our hands,” Colonel Schmol said.

“It’s not my place, but I think we’re going to see this a lot as we clean out these nests of vermin.” Ed said. “They’ll all be holding hostages that will make us hesitate to pull the trigger on them. The captain was right, no free passage out, but surrender with a guarantee we’ll not kill them. If the word trickles down to other thugs we meet, that guarantee may work in our favor.”

The colonel sighed with resignation, “The more citizens we can save, the better. These poor buggers have been through enough. But after we round up all these bastards with a guarantee not to kill them, then what?”

“Well, we certainly won’t have any liberal Supreme Court justices ruling that they were misunderstood when they raped, pillaged and killed across the country. No, I think they’ll be held in a military prison until such time as another country might be willing to take them. Now, if the ship carrying them to a far off land happens to develop troubles and sinks and there is only one life boat for the crew, technically we didn’t kill them, did we?”

“No, Sir. I like your thinking General. Death at the hands of Mother Nature. Unfortunate accidents happen all the time at sea, and usually there’s no one around to help. Terrible tragedy.” The colonel smiled as he decided his course of action.

“And Colonel, this will be just between us. I’ll pass the policy on to the other commanders quietly. It will only work if these bad boys think that they will get their day in what was the old civilian court system.”

“Mums the word. I’ll cry the blues to these bad guys that we will have to eventually turn them over to civilian authorities. They know that would mean a lifetime waiting for justice to work. That would be followed by a plea agreement to driving while intoxicated or some other lame charge,” the colonel said. He walked off to take charge of the surrender, mumbling that the Geneva Accords allowed these men to surrender as prisoners of war.

Ed liked that approach. Let the bad guys believe that the political correctness that had coddled them for years was still in place. He remembered the situation of the terrorist held at Guantanamo Bay after 9-11. Men had risked their lives to round up these killers of Americans. Then they had to watch as the terrorists sat in prison for years suffering through special dietary food and air conditioning, policies forced upon the military by civilian courts.

Things would be different this time. Ed would personally take these bad boys out to sea to make sure justice was done this time. He would even swim back after he pulled the plug personally if he had to.

Mt. Tongariro, North Island, New Zealand

The Desert Road was the main trunk road that connected Auckland in the north to Wellington in the south. Lying at over five thousand feet on the side of Mt. Tongariro, the road traversed a bleak terrain.

In the rain shadow of the mighty volcano, raising to over ten thousand feet to the west, normally rainy New Zealand had micro-climates like the Desert Road. Scrub brush and brown clumpy grasses as far as the eye could see inhabited this barren patch.

The nearest communities lay to either the north and south, where the lower elevation allowed a more temperate climate. But for close to one hundred miles a cold high alpine desert dominated.

Even though it was a warm fall in the rest of New Zealand, up here on the Desert Road the nights dropped below freezing. Noel pulled his wool Mackinaw jacket tight around him as he sat in his camouflaged foxhole. Sitting beside him, equally wrapped up in the cold, sat his great-grandfather. They were part of a defensive line that the Kiwis had thrown up to stem the tide of Indonesians heading toward Wellington.

Already Auckland had been captured, with Hamilton falling soon afterward. The Indonesian Army had split its forces and sent a group east and captured Tauranga. Now that force moved down toward the East Cape and Opotiki.

A defensive line had been established on Telford Pass between Opitiki and Gisborne. The gorge in between favored the defenders and the Kiwi’s needed all the help they could muster. Lacking in everything but determination to defend their country, the Kiwi’s would hold.

With America beset with an invasion and Britain no longer the power it once was, New Zealand was on its own for the first time since Europeans first settled there. Even the Aussies who would have helped out were packing it in.

Reports had made it up to Noel that the Australians were evacuating the country north of New South Wales and west of South Australia. Pulling back to the southeast quarter of the continent, Noel assumed that the Chinese would be content with the remaining three-fourths. That was where the vast majority of the minerals that China sought were located.

Western Australia, Queensland and the Northern Territories held a huge reservoir of metals waiting to be scooped up and shipped to factories in Asia. China had been doing just that for years, but now made the move to permanently expropriate them. With no one around to stop them, ‘might makes right’ ruled the day.

The Aussies and the Kiwis were alone and a long way from nowhere. There were no sympathetic countries nearby. Even India just stood by as China made its move for world dominance. Noel and his great-grandfather had had long talks about what their odds of surviving were. Noel, at 16 years of age, knew his future was bleak.