Sweetness in the Dark (22 page)

“What? Are you saying we should throw out all those people who through no fault of their own, are now living here,” Rebecca shouted. “There are millions of innocent people who have known no other place who would be affected. And most of these people happen to be people of color.”

The moderator motioned to hold her voice down. Paul looked at Amanda and got a shrug in return. Maybe she hadn’t quite got to Rebecca over the weekend.
It would be a long day
, he thought.

“If I may refer to Article Fourteen,” Paul said as he read aloud. “All persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside.” He paused to let the phrase sink in. “The optimal words there are ‘subject to the jurisdiction thereof’.”

“So, what’s your point?” Rebecca flashed back.

“If someone crosses illegally into our country and gives birth, they are outside the law. Consequently the old Constitution states that they can’t be citizens since they are not ‘subject to the jurisdiction thereof’. Same as tourists visiting here. They are not ‘subject to the jurisdiction thereof’ also, and would not obtain citizenship for any baby born during their visit,” Paul said.

“Are you proposing throwing out all the undocumented workers and their children then?” Rebecca asked. Her tone offered defiance.
Amanda definitely hadn’t got to her
, he thought.

“A country is defined by its borders, language and culture. The United States was quickly losing its identity by not enforcing its borders. Our common language and culture was vaporizing to the overall detriment of the entire country,” Paul said.

“You mean the white man’s language and the white man’s culture. I think our diversity was our strength and the more it evolved away from the status quo, the better,” Rebecca challenged.

The governor of Alabama jumped into the discussion. “You might think that Ms. Richards, but I can assure you that the majority of the delegates in this room are going to support western civilization. If that implies a white man’s world to you, then you’re going to have to deal with it. I’d be happy to call for the question right now. May we have a show of hands on this issue?”

“The question has been called and seconded,” the moderator said. He asked Paul to state the language he offered to clarify who would be a citizen in the UAS. The hands shot up in support, solving Paul’s second profound problem. Four more to go, the last four would turn out harder to resolve than Paul anticipated.

Spokane, Washington  (1 week into the military campaign)

Clearing out northern Idaho had progressed rapidly after the warlord gang had been taken into custody in Coeur d’ Alene. The supply trains were rolling into the area from Missoula and Task Force Delta was ready to move out. A company of troops had headed north toward Sandpoint to clear out northern Washington State.

Radio reports from the two task forces in Oregon showed that they were making good progress moving west. Task Force Alpha had closed up to Bend with little difficulty. The people in the area had closed off the mountain passes quickly and kept the large urban population from ravaging the area.

Task Force Beta had moved up to the collapsed bridges over the John Day River next to the Columbia River. The interstate bridge and the train bridge had both been dropped so as to deny refugees moving into Eastern Oregon. Now, the Task Force had to repair the broken portion of one collapsed span in order to keep their advance moving toward Portland.

General Ed Gale rode with his security guards into Fairchild Air Force Base just outside Spokane. After the capture of the thugs in Idaho, word spread fast and the gang in Spokane evacuated the area quickly.

“General, we’ve located the communication center for the air base. I can take you there if you wish,” Sergeant Wilder of Task Force Delta’s Scout Unit reported.

“Very good, Sergeant. Lead the way,” Ed said. He motioned to his driver to move out behind the two scout motorcycles. The communication specialist that had been found rode behind him.

“Corporal, can you get this radio operating?” Ed asked as they entered the center. The Air Force had a large tower with a number of radios in the adjacent building. Ed hoped that the scavengers who had looted the abandoned base had ignored the old tube radio. ‘The Pulse’ had knocked out the unhardened radios, but hadn’t touched the old vacuum tube set.

“Sir, it looks intact. Probably been sitting here since the fifties. Those looters didn’t know what they had when they came looking,” the corporal said. He worked the switches as troops outside hooked up the generator they had towed behind the supply truck. Soon the electricity from the roaring generator had the dials glowing.

“Here Corporal, this is the frequency I need and the call sign. I received this communiqué yesterday from Boise. I figured I needed more power to reach Admiral Lanciani. He should be somewhere between Hawaii and the West Coast,” Ed said.

“Don’t worry, General. This setup was made to reach anywhere in the world. We may have to key the message though, to get it through clearly.”

Ed knew sending messages by Morse code was the old-fashioned way, but with satellites knocked out, the old-fashioned ways would have to do. And he couldn’t rely on voice carrying that far and being received clearly. No, this message had to be clearly understood.

The corporal gave the thumbs up sign that he had made contact with the admiral’s Carrier Battle Group. A few questions were tapped out on the key to assure the general that the admiral was truly on the other end.

“Corporal, send this message in the clear. We don’t have all the fancy computer encryption on our end. The Navy may have one that’s hardened, but we are lacking,” Ed said.

The corporal sent the message. There was a long pause as the message was interpreted far out at sea. Soon, a positive response was received.

“Good, he has it. Now send these.” Ed handed the corporal a long sheet of numbers. The numbers were all grouped in three. The corporal hesitated as he looked at the long list.

Ed offered a brief explanation. “Book code, Corporal. The admiral and I were ship mates when we both flew jets off the Nimitz. I remembered his favorite book that he gave me a copy of as a gift. I still have it.”

The corporal was really confused now. Ed could tell that his radioman wondered what does a gift from long ago has to do with the business at hand.

Ed offered further, “We confirmed that the admiral has that same book on board. Then I simply use my copy to write out my message in a book code. First number is page, second number is line, and last number is the word. Simple but very effective.”

“As long as the ‘other guy’ doesn’t have the book.”

“We’ll trust the Chinese aren’t knowledgeable about our 20-year-old reading habits,” Ed offered. The corporal dutifully keyed through the long list of numbers. He received a confirmation from the U.S.S.
Enterprise
and handed it to Ed. A plan was now in place. Ed had to hustle his forces to see that it was accomplished.

“Sergeant Wilder, are you ready to lead us to Portland?” Ed asked.

“Sir, Portland it is. I’ll get the Scouts up and running.”

“Sergeant, you need to split your team. The main column will still be tasked to close with Seattle. They will wait on the outskirts while the rest of the state is cleared. Please handpick your men for a dash to Astoria. We’ll bypass Portland as much as possible and avoid any firefights. We’ll have half the Strykers and the minimum number of troops as well as supply trucks to get us to the mouth of the Columbia.”

Ed radioed Colonel Schmol to hold up the column near Ritzville and he would meet him there to explain the change in plans. He then radioed Task Force Beta and instructed them to make all haste repairing the railroad bridge. They could cross with their vehicles first with the supply trains from Boise following.

When Ed reached Ritzville, the column was stretched along Interstate 90. Men were cooking lunch beside their vehicles and waved as the general drove past.
Their spirits are good
, Ed thought. The weather continued to be sunny and warm which helped the troop’s morale.

This kind of weather also meant that the Palouse country would be ready to plow and plant in new wheat. Supply trains would have to bring up fuel and new parts to get the tractors ready. Seed would also have to be brought up. From the look of the locals, any local seed had been eaten over the last six months.

“Colonel, I’m splitting our forces. I have to be in Astoria within a week. I need to travel fast and hit any obstacle hard. We can’t get tied down anywhere along the way,” Ed said.

“General, you’re sticking your neck out on this one. I hope what’s in Astoria will be worth it.”

“It will be, Colonel. And if it all works, Task Force Beta will be right behind us. Once they secure Portland, we’ll all turn north and combine our forces for the capture of Seattle. Task Force Alpha will push into Eugene and then head south to the Siskiyou Mountains. That will protect our flank from any foes drifting up out of California,” Ed said.

“I’ll get the fuel truck up here and top off all your vehicles. I doubt there are many gas stations between here and the Pacific. The smaller trucks should cover the distance. I’ll make sure you have enough fuel trucks with you just in case,” the Task Force commander said.

* * *

The dash to the coast turned out to be uneventful. A member of Sergeant Wilder’s Scout Team had lived in Clark County on the Washington State side of the Columbia River. He knew the back roads to get the column around Vancouver without stumbling into any bad guys.

The surviving locals came out of hiding to welcome Ed’s forces, but the column kept moving. When Ed stopped to talk to some of the people, he learned that there were very few who had survived the aftermath of ‘the Pulse’.

The gangs had streamed out of Portland and laid waste to the surrounding area. People fled further into the forest for protection. When the food ran out, everyone started starving to death. The lucky few who had stocked up in secluded places had made it.

The locals reported that Portland was a ghost town. Some people still lived down the Willamette Valley on farms that had managed to avoid the chaos. Ed took in the grim news and was more determined to keep the column moving toward its goal.

They reached Astoria two days ahead of schedule. Ed had learned that Task Force Beta had repaired the damaged railroad bridge and the column’s vehicles had crossed the river. They were moving through The Dalles and would soon enter Portland.

Task Force Alpha had crossed the Cascade Range and had split up. One prong headed to Salem and the other went down the McKenzie River towards Eugene. With no railroad for support, the Task Force would be halted in Eugene until supply trains could make their way down the valley.

Ed radioed his arrival in a coded message to the U.S.S.
Enterprise
. He received a coded message back. He reached for his copy of the book and worked out the message. Admiral Lanciani would bring the battle group in a day ahead of schedule.

* * *

Ed sat by the South Jetty as he watched the Enterprise Battle Group approach the mouth of the Columbia River. He had arranged a river pilot from Astoria to take one of the few running skiffs out to the fleet and assist them in crossing the bar.

The Columbia River Bar was called the graveyard of the Pacific for a reason. The shifting sand bars were notorious for grabbing unsuspecting boats and holding them while the crashing waves of the North Pacific pounded them to death.

Ed wanted to make sure the battle group crossed without mishap. Luckily the coast area had missed much of the chaos. Communities knew to barricade the roads from the cities. With fish and other marine life to survive off of, people had come through relatively unscathed.

The first destroyer made its run up the channel indicated by one of the pilots. Ed watched through his field glasses as the ship cleared the danger zone. Then, one by one, each of the ten ships of the battle group entered the river. The carrier was the last to make the attempt. A large contingent of townspeople had gathered to watch the historic event.

Everyone sighed with relief as the Enterprise pulled up in front of the Astoria waterfront and dropped both its anchors. The other ships had all taken up anchoring positions around the large green bridge that towered over the river. Only the smaller ships could anchor upriver of the bridge.

Ed met the admiral’s barge and was transported out to the Enterprise. He hadn’t seen his friend in a few years. Bud Lanciani had been Commanding Officer of the fighter wing he had been assigned to on the U.S.S.
Nimitz
. They had become close friends during their tour of duty and as Bud had moved up in rank, Ed had transferred to Special Ops.

Their most recent meeting had been Ed’s last mission as a U.S. Navy Seal. Ed’s team had been flown onto Bud’s carrier in the Arabian Sea for helicopter insertion into Iraq. Over the last few years they had stayed in touch by email, but hadn’t seen each other since being together in the Middle East.

Climbing up the side of the ship, Ed was escorted to the admiral’s quarters. He knew the way, but it had been a long time. The escorting ensign made sure he didn’t take a wrong turn.

“Ed! Or rather General, it’s great to see you. I can’t get over you in a general’s uniform.” Bud Lanciani greeted him upon entering his stateroom. “Can I get you a drink? You look like you could use one.”

“The Navy always did provide nice accommodations,” Ed said as he looked around at the large room. An admiral’s quarters on a nuclear aircraft carrier were quite luxurious by military standards. “I’ve been sharing an open Jeep with three guys for a couple of weeks now.”

Sitting down with their drinks, the two friends looked at each other. Bud finally broke the silence.

“I hear it’s bad out there.”