The Last Stand (Book 3) (The Repentant Demon Trilogy) (24 page)

“Well don't expect him to look like a Roman or a soldier,” laughed Cal.  “He looks like a chubbier version of that guy in the movie we watched the other night.  The one where the guy shrinks the kids.”

“Rick Moranus,” said Nathan, “I like him already.”

“Only this guy is really smart,” said Cal.  “After I met him I looked through his personnel file.   He's got an IQ of 180.  That makes him one of the top geniuses we have.  He's a devout Catholic, and he's an answer to a prayer.  I was frustrated about finding a computer expert to help us in our mission, so I prayed.  I don't know which fills me with more joy, having found new hope since Sebastian joined us, or just the feeling that God heard me, actually heard me, and answered my prayer.”

“The overwhelming feeling that God is real,” said Abby, “and that he loves us.  That's as good as it gets.”

Cal took the baby, and they walked together to have some breakfast, joined by the whole Edwards and Decker clan.  Moving tables together, they ate and got a brief overview of the situation; as much as he could with the children present.  He mainly expressed enthusiasm that they were going to stop the invasion and that they finally had Rick Foley on their side.  Without him, their attempts would have been difficult if not nearly impossible.

When the group disbanded to their designated duties, the young boys among them begged for permission to attend the meeting.  Stephen Decker, though only approaching eleven years of age, had become used to being included at the lodge meetings.  The Talbot boys, Thomas and Jonathan, had felt the events of the past months and had matured them beyond their actual years.  Brady spoke in their favor, pointing out how in earlier times boys became men at sixteen or even younger.  Abby also agreed with him, pointing out how other cultures had included boys this age with adult hunting expeditions and that just a few generations ago in this country boys their age had been an important asset to the community.

“Just so this doesn't mean they're going to do any fighting,” said Anne Marie Talbot.  “I can just see them wanting to shoot one of those big guns.”  So it was decided in Jonathan and Thomas's favor, and their mother happily kissed them good-bye.

At the meeting, Sebastian quickly showed himself to be a star.  He had prepared presentations of the damage done so far, and when the discussion led to their plans for ambushing the invaders and surprising them from the south, he was able to quickly access topographical maps and then pinpointed the exact locations where the invaders would probably enter.

“How do you know where those tunnels are located?” asked Brady.  “If the government has known all along how the illegals were getting in, why didn't they close in on them a long time ago?”

“Well that is something I've always wondered about myself,” answered Sebastian.  “But it wasn't in my job description to question that.  Personally, I don't mind the Mexicans coming here and doing the jobs they do.  In fact, I've always considered them an asset to our culture.  They're mostly Catholic, and they have excellent family values.  The drug cartels and the criminals... I'm for keeping them out.  And I never understood why they couldn't have been stopped.  I can think of several ways to handle that which would work for everyone.  But we'll save that for another time.

“Anyway,” he continued.  “Here's the main tunnel which opens up into a warehouse.  I think they'll send ground troops through there with small arms, enough to overpower the area.  It's already been severely damaged by lack of food and water and sickness.  They will secure this tiny section of Arizona near Yuma using stealth so as not to alert the nearby Air Force range.  All they need to do is pass through some Indian reservations to make their way up through a system of highways for about three hundred miles, and they'll soon be at Interstate 15.  It's mostly desert and mountains around there.  They could drive tons of tanks and heavy equipment through without being seen.  Phoenix is dead.  Las Vegas is dead.  Look at the maps of that region.  We can use the traffic cams to watch for them.  Then we'll know about the exact hour they should be arriving to where we'll hit them with all we've got.”

“What about those military bases west of their route?” asked Cal, “There's Twenty-nine Palms Marine Corps base, Fort Irwin Military Reserve, and the China Lake Naval Weapons Center.  All within two hundred miles of them.  Are they able to launch an attack?  They aren't even close to where the original destruction took place along the coast.”

“One of them has since been closed, but the rest of those guys are just sitting there waiting for orders,” said Rick, “and so are others to the east of them.  That's the next problem we face.  We need to communicate with those bases.  And we need to do it in a way that isn't overheard by the Washington Underground Command.  That's what I call them.  They are tapped into everything, and could theoretically be listening to us now.  Only there's so much noise they can't hear it all, and we are flying under their radar.  We need to pass on a command to attack that will appear to have come through the proper chain of command, and we need to do it without the President knowing.”

“I could do that, Sir,” said Sebastian.  “It might take a few hours to set up a shadow network.  I need access to the communications systems and an up-to-date organizational chart of all the generals at those bases showing ranks and channels of authority.  I can make the orders look completely legitimate.  If this is done right, and I assure you it will be, Washington will not even be aware of our attacks.  That is unless they have direct contact with the enemy.  Only the enemy could inform them.  That will, in fact, be proof of their involvement in all of this.”

“And when they
do
learn?” asked Rick.  “Notice I'm saying
when
, not
if
.  I'm convinced already that the President is up to his big fat ears in this.”

“Then they'll probably send all they've got in retaliation,” answered Sebastian. “God help us.”

“We'll wait and see what happens in the Underground White House,” said Rick.  “Surely the generals there are going to realize the enemy is among them.  Surely, they'd be watching, realizing we're defending our nation.  If they don't get that, we're in big trouble.”

“Why can't we just call them?” asked a tiny little voice named Stephen Decker.  “Abby said you could call anywhere in the world from those phones.”

A moment of stunned silence followed the boy's question, and he didn't know whether he had said something really stupid or if he was in big trouble for speaking at all.  The young boys had been given explicit orders to remain silent throughout the meeting.

“Do you have the phone numbers of the Joint Chiefs of Staff?” asked Sebastian, trying to contain the humor he saw in the situation. 
And a little child shall lead them
, he thought.

“Of course I do,” answered Rick.  “That would be so simple, it just might work.  But timing is everything.  We don't know what's going on there. If they've all turned against us, we need to know.  If only we could be a fly on the wall, so I could know if anyone among the Joint Chiefs of Staff  would be likely to be on our side.”

“That's a lost cause,” added Brady, “No chance. Not any more.  After the President fired General Monahan, that  stacked the deck in his favor.  Monahan hated the President's policies, as did most of the military.  But somehow or other, all of the dissenters disappeared, one way or another.  There were a very suspicious number of heart attacks and accidents.  And those vacant positions managed somehow to get filled by people that agreed with the President and his anti-military, anti-defense, anti-American policies.  I don't know whether he persuaded them or bribed them, or both.  If there is anybody in the Underground White House on our side—the side for America—they'll be overpowered, perhaps killed, if discovered.”

“What about General Monahan?” asked Cal.  “If he was as respected as you say, maybe he could talk to the commanders at the bases out here in the west.  If they're real Americans they'll join with us, even if it means risking treason.”

“He actually lives in Amarillo, Texas,” said Jerry Decker, “I was on a team that set up an amazing system for his ranch.  He raises Appaloosa horses.  We all got to meet him at the end of our project.  He seemed like the kind of guy you could sit down and have a beer with.”

“Why don't we just fly there and talk to him?” asked Abby, “Jerry and I could take the Cessna and bring him back with us.  He could command the armed forces from here. None of us here are military strategists.  No offense, Rick, but you admit your expertise has been in covert activities and intelligence.  What we need is a military man.  One with wartime experience who has commanded forces, and who will believe us about the President being our enemy.  Instead of faking orders, he could create them and actually give them.”

“That's crazy,” said Cal, “not that it's not a good idea.  What's crazy is my wife flying a plane through what has now become a battlefield after just giving birth to our son.”

“Well the enemy isn't here yet,” said Rick, “our only problem would be alerting our own military bases not to shoot her down, and in a way that the Washington Underground won't know about it.”

“Like Stephen suggested,” said Nathan, “we could just call them.”

Sebastian flashed up maps for all the military bases between their facility and Amarillo, Texas.  There were sixteen within radar range.  Rick pulled up a list of phone numbers for the Chief of Operations at all the bases.  Everyone was scurrying around quickly gathering information until Cal stood and announced his objections strongly.

“Am I the only one who has a problem with this tactic?” said Cal, standing to demand attention.

“Cal, I'll be fine, really,” said Abby, attempting to appease his protective instincts.  “I can be there and back in four or five hours.  That's barely a feeding cycle for Jonah, but I can pump some milk for him just in case I'm delayed.  God will be with us, Cal.”

That was the one thing she said that eased his concerns at all.  He had somehow forgotten that God would protect Abby.  And it was a very important mission—to procure a real military man to command during the most important battle in the history of mankind.  The fate of humanity lie in the success of their strategy.  It was decided by all, including Cal, that they should do it.  They would go pay a visit to General Monahan.

Abby borrowed a breast pump from the medical floor, and pumped out enough milk for two bottles.  The only controversy at that point would be over who got to feed him.  Grandma Uma won out.  She had the most seniority and the closest blood connection.  But there was a line established in pecking order over burping, diaper changes, and rocking him to sleep.  Baby Jonah had a whole family of people to love him.  And Claudia wanted to marry him when they grew up, in spite of the fact that her cousins argued that Rayetta should become his wife. 

A dozen people sat around a table in the empty snack lounge dialing numbers they had divvied among them.  They followed a script crafted by Rick which basically told them to be on the alert for a Cessna passing through with a special shipment for General Monahan.  It was supposed to be a case of horse liniment, and since he had run out a few of the animals with arthritis had been suffering. 

They called the general himself, to announce their arrival.  Jerry did the honors and after re-introducing himself, said that he'd like to check on how the automatic feeding and watering system was working.  He claimed that a few of the parts had been recalled, and he wanted to be sure that nothing would go wrong with any of his extensive barns.  The general commended him for his digilence under the circumstances.  It struck him as odd that this man should have such concerns in the midst of everything happening in the world, but he had no reason to disbelieve him, and he could think of no ulterior motive that made any sense.

After he finished talking to Jerry, the general received a call from Colonel William Rittershaus, commander of Schriever AFB near Colorado Springs.  He wanted to double check that he was expecting a drop shipment of horse linement in the next few hours.  Immediately, General Monahan was alerted to the fact that something fishy was going on.  He became all the more curious, and anticipated meeting Jerry with delight.

“I really hesitated to call and disturb you,” said the Colonel.

“Yet you did it anyway, didn't you?” he answered sharply.  “Let that be a lesson to you to listen to your first instincts.”  He hung up without a good-bye.

The last thing he would have considered was that he might be in any danger from a little Cessna, that wasn't the way his enemies operated.  They had already used politics to destroy him.  As for terrorists... let them come, he told himself, I'll blow your asses off.  He wouldn't do it by some cowardly bomb; he'd look them in the eye and shoot them himself with a pistol.  If he died in the process, so be it, he thought.  He was old and ready to meet his Maker, his only concern being that someone take care of the horses.