Battle of Mesquite Read online

  McMichael watched Upton and waited.

  After a few seconds, he spotted something. “Got a vehicle coming from the left; no headlights; westbound. Stay low,” he whispered.

  “What type of vehicle,” asked McMichael.

  Upton didn’t answer. Instead he focused on the movement and tried to determine the threat and possibilities. As the vehicle approached, recognition dawned and he made up his mind. Grunting against the pain from his injured ribs, he scrambled out of the ditch.

  McMichael pulled Kinney’s Glock from her waistband and followed.

  Upton positioned himself in the middle of the highway. It was crazy, but McMichael needed footwear, and the vehicle appeared to be the only good option. With his left arm, he began waving while in his right he pulled out his M18 SIG Sauer and trained it on the approaching vehicle. As it got closer, he confirmed his suspicion; it was an ambulance, marked with a white cross, no headlights. Relieved it wasn’t a combat vehicle, he waited as it slowed and came to a stop twenty meters distant.

  Upton ceased waving and gripped the M18 with both hands. Weapon pointed, moving with discomfort, he hobbled closer.

  Behind him, McMichael raised Kinney’s suppressed Glock and followed.

  As Upton drew near the ambulance, he detected both the driver and passenger holding up their hands. M18 gripped tight, he came to a stop and signaled the driver to roll down the window. The driver complied, and Upton closed the distance stopping a few meters away. “Driver, get out of the ambulance.”

  “Who are you?” asked the man seated behind the wheel.

  Upton saw a wispy mustache. He assumed they were medics and less of a combat threat. Still, taking the vehicle was an imperative. For emphasis, he waved the M18 in the air. “Doesn’t matter. Get out.”

  “Hey. We’re on the same side,” said the driver.

  Upton stepped a little closer, and keeping his M18 trained, inspected the men. The driver wore Medical Corps insignia, corporal chevrons, a name tag that read Chavez. Most surprisingly, he wore an ROAS badge. “You guys ROAS?”

  “Si, Sergeant. I’m Corporal Chavez, and sitting next to me is Corporal Spanos. We’re ROAS medics captured after the battle today.”

  “Then why aren’t you behind razor wire?” asked Upton.

  “After we surrendered, they put us to work. They demanded we take a loyalty oath. We had to agree never to take up arms against the US. In return, they promised to release us soon. Until then, we work for them. They also claimed until we’re paroled, if we try to escape, they’ll execute us. We’ve been humping wounded back to our field hospital most of the day. You know, Sergeant, we’re medics, not grunts. We took the oath. Our job is to save lives, and that’s what we’ve been trying to do, including our own.”

  Upton, believing the medic, lowered his handgun and waved McMichael forward. Before she could join him, he turned back to Chavez and said, “Yeah. We’re on the same side. But me and my partner haven’t been captured or taken any loyalty oath. I doubt they’d let us. We need help. Sergeant McMichael lacks boots and your vehicle can help us escape.”

  “Not wise,” said Chavez, lowering his hands. “We’re expected back any second, and if we don’t show up soon, they’ll come hunting. Besides, an ambulance is easy to spot, and well, Sergeant, we took an oath.”

  The passenger, Corporal Spanos, leaned over and smiled. “You’re lucky, amigos. Another two hundred meters, and you’d be out of the dip in this highway and spotted by the US checkpoint.”

  Upton looked down the highway and imagined a roadblock. Maybe taking the vehicle wasn’t a good idea. Better to stick with the original plan and hump out on foot.

  McMichael joined Upton and asked, “Do you have a pair of boots I can borrow? Maybe bandages, medicine, painkillers too?”

  Upton could see Chavez examining McMichael with a look of concern.

  Chavez, in a slight accent said, “Lady, you look fucked up. How bad are you hurt?”

  “Oh,” said McMichael glancing down at her blood-soaked pants and combat shirt. Raising her head, she replied, “Not mine.”

  “Wow! Okay, I get it,” replied Chavez. After a moment the medic seemed to make up his mind and turned to Spanos. “Get out and join ’em in the back, hook ’em up. I’ll drive another 150 meters down the road, then let ’em out so the checkpoint doesn’t see. Vamanos!”

  Spanos didn’t hesitate and jumped out of the ambulance, heading towards the rear.

  Relieved, Upton shuffled after him.

  McMichael turned to follow but stopped. Through the open window, she smiled and said, “Gracias, amigo.”

  Chavez recoiled and then said, “Lady, you need to wash your face, get out of those bloody clothes, and see a dentist. Vive la République! Now hurry, and get in the back.”

  * * *

  Sergeant Flood came to a turn in the pipe, the first one he’d encountered. Getting on his belly, eager to find Specialist Kinney, Glock at the ready, he rounded the bend. There, farther down the pipe, he spotted a person lying face down wearing no boots, a small light emanating from a headlamp. With his Glock trained on the figure, using his night vision, he watched and waited for signs of movement. There weren’t any. The sinking feeling he’d been carrying grew worse. Past the body, much farther down, he detected ambient light and determined it must be an opening. Nothing else was in sight. Ready to shoot, he yelled out, “Don’t fucking move!”

  No response, not even a flinch.

  Flood got to his knees and, keeping the target in sight, crawled forward. Behind him, he heard Corporal Dalton slithering through the bend. As Flood neared the body, he confirmed the size and shape. In trepidation, reaching out with his Glock, he nudged a leg. No response. The uniform and helmet were US issue, the body face down in a pool of blood. He had to confirm the obvious. With his free hand, he lifted the helmeted head and flinched. It was Kinney. He’d been mutilated. His throat and mouth lay ripped open. Just as bad, the young specialist’s eyes bulged in rigor. Flood felt a rush of anger mixed with guilt and sorrow. Whoever did this was brutal. Kinney didn’t deserve to die in this manner. Worse, Flood knew he sent the young man to meet this horrible fate. In a gentle move, he let Kinney’s head down and said, “Goddammit. Shit and fuck!”

  “What you got?” inquired Dalton, his view blocked by Flood.

  “Fucker’s killed Kinney. Cut his face and throat bad. Bled him out. Goddammit.”

  Dalton didn’t respond, just hung his head.

  Flood understood everyone in the squad was tight, they’d fought together for several years down south. They’d all seen men die. Killed many themselves, but it’d been a long while since they’d taken a loss.

  “Listen up,” said Flood, ashamed and angry. “The pipe comes to an end nearby. Whoever killed Kinney left that way. We’re going to follow and find the guy. When we do, we’re going to fuck him up. Got that?”

  “Yeah, Sergeant. But what we gonna do with Kinney? We can’t just leave him here.”

  Flood stared down at his fallen soldier. The sight worsened his mood. Composure shaken, he had to think straight and get his shit together. He glanced towards the end of the pipe, then back to the body beneath him. “We gotta crawl over him to get out, no choice. But Kinney won’t care. He’d want us to catch whoever did this to him. Afterwards, we’ll damn sure come back and take good care of him. For now, follow me and be ready to kill.” Haunted, hating to do it, Flood crawled over Kinney’s body.

  In a minute, Flood was out of the pipe and standing on the main highway. Turning in every direction, he spotted no one. Determined, he searched for evidence. There had to be a blood trail. He looked down at the asphalt. Needing better visibility, he flipped on the headlamp and from his combat vest pulled out a small pen light. He bent over and, using the improved illumination, examined the black top. There it was: drops of blood coming from the ditch. Down the highway he followed the trail, a steady drip. He’d gone twenty meters, and then it vanished. He frowned at the suddenn
ess. The bad guy couldn’t just vanish into thin air. Someone must have picked him up and drove away. He imagined the killer hijacking a vehicle at gun point. Flood wasn’t sure which way the bastard had gone, but the trail ended in the lane nearest him, westbound. But it didn’t matter.

  With Corporal Dalton at his side, Flood flipped down his visor and checked his comms. The signal was strong. He’d call it in and have any recent vehicle traffic searched. Confidence returning, he felt close. Soon, he’d catch Kinney’s murderer and take revenge.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  THE TRUTH

  May 9, 04:30 (PDT)

  Displayed on a huge flat-screen monitor mounted on his bedroom wall, the morning news channel flickered with a boring life insurance commercial. Like most mornings at this hour, inside the White House, President of the United States George Cyrus Tower II was lying in his bed. With covers pulled to his chin, propped on pillows, he awaited his favorite news analyst. Within a moment, the advertisement ended, and he smiled when the silver-haired pundit came on the screen. Behind the talking head, images from the day’s events popped up while across the bottom of the screen salient headlines scrolled. The president listened and watched, as he did almost every day, ready to pick up the phone if warranted.

  “Good morning and welcome to the Truth Network. I’m Edward Roth, and this morning we have breaking news out of Mesquite Nevada where US forces, yesterday afternoon, defeated the murderous forces of the ROAS. But first the background. We all know the story, but it bears repeating.

  “This past January, to stir up civil unrest and disrupt the US political system, the ROAS ordered and carried out the brutal assassination of United States Vice President Justin Ferrier. While attending a White House dinner, two ROAS invited guests poisoned Ferrier. After being apprehended and when confronted by a host of damning physical evidence, both men confessed. But there was more. During questioning, both ROAS officials implicated President Julia Ortega as the true commissioner of the assassination …”

  Lying in bed, Tower thought of his daughter. He had warned her not to marry Ferrier; something was off about the guy. Still, Ferrier’s strong family business connections and good looks appeared like a perfect match. It was only later that Ferrier’s true colors emerged. Outraged and despondent, his own beautiful daughter came to him, upset and desperate to be rid of the man. Divorce, public shame and humiliation, were out of the question. There was no pleasure in killing the man, but his unfortunate demise fit well within the bigger picture, and his daughter could no longer abide the marriage. Just like her father, she was one tough cookie, and Tower felt a tinge of pride. It had to be done, he thought, and the means justify the ends. Oh well. The president focused his attention back on the talking head.

  “… afterwards, the United States issued an international arrest warrant for Ortega seeking her immediate extradition. In discordance with international law and norms, in denial of all facts and proof, the ROAS ignored the legal process. Even worse, they claimed zero responsibility for the most heinous political crime ever committed. Since then, things have gotten worse. Instead of behaving as a responsible world citizen, in defiance of all that is true and just, the ROAS responded with further hostility. Case in point: the ROAS called up its military and massed troops along key points near the US border— a clear threat to US sovereignty …”

  Tower smiled. Ortega was stupid. Sending troops to the border was perfect for him. Her mistake gave him a further excuse. Besides, she and the whole ROAS were too weak, too liberal, to defend themselves. Without him, the Chinese would be all over them soon. Wiping sleep from his eyes, he continued to watch the only sanctioned news.

  “… so murdering the vice president of the United States wasn’t enough; the ROAS objectives remain clear and haven’t changed. Their hatred of freedom continues to grow. Under the shining light of US truthful transparency, the socialist ROAS loathing of liberty is unmasked. The ROAS seeks nothing less than the complete overthrow of the US government and the destruction of our constitution and Judeo-Christian way of life. They seek to take away our freedoms and put us under the yoke of their immoral and tyrannical rule …”

  The president laughed at the line. Reality was, the ROAS couldn’t overthrow anything. They were a mess, and without his intervention, soon they’d be eating nothing but Chinese food. Still, he sure did like Roth—the Truth Network pundit was good.

  “… even with all their crimes, lies, deceptions, hate, and military posturing, the US remains patient. Throughout this most recent crisis, under the guidance and wisdom of President Tower, the US negotiated in good faith.

  “Then, yesterday, after months of denials, by agreeing to extradition, President Ortega finally admitted to the greatest atrocity in the annals of political history. Sources claim this admission of guilt came only after trying to defeat our armed forces near Mesquite, only after learning the US was about to carry out the lawful execution of her accomplice in assassination, only after the US offered peaceful terms to the murderous ROAS military forces, and only after ROAS troops killed United States service men defending our border. Look at this clip just released by the ROAS press showing a female ROAS soldier, obviously brainwashed and forced into service, shooting down a US Custer aircraft. Note the animal joy she exhibits in the killing, the wanton taking of life, an emotion forced upon her by the hate-filled ROAS political leadership. Notice how the ROAS press is using this disgusting act to incite their people to further violence and bloodshed! Yesterday …”

  Tower almost cheered the video clip of the young woman. She was brave, willing to die for a cause, unlike the rest of the weak assholes destroying the ROAS.

  “… with no choice, the United States carried out a small degree of justice and defended itself by neutralizing the immediate ROAS military threat against our border. By overcoming a massed, entrenched force, a US combined-combat arms team routed the ROAS forces arrayed against it, suffering no significant losses. Our noble heroes, once again, stood victorious on the field of battle. And the United States, one nation under God, with His righteous blessing, liberated the good people of Mesquite. No longer will those people suffer under the malignant socialist–liberal grip of their murderous ROAS oppressors …”

  Shaking his head, he couldn’t believe Ortega had forced his hand. Anyone in their right mind would have surrendered. Slaughtering those few brave soldiers was all her fault. He took no pleasure in what transpired. If he didn’t act, the Chinese would soon take over. His intelligence agencies made it clear that Beijing was close to introducing an advanced AI capable of dominating the planet. They’d come after him, the US, the ROAS, everyone. No, he wouldn’t let that happen, not on his watch. After all, he and his father before him had restored the nation to greatness. Going forward, he was determined to secure the long-term viability of the country they’d rebuilt. Far into the future, he envisioned his offspring ruling with a steady and mighty hand. Shaking off the horrible thought of slanty-eyed, heathen Chinese running the country, populating and controlling the entire world, he refocused on the television.

  “… it is a positive step that President Ortega admitted to what the world already knows. By agreeing to extradition, there is no longer any doubt regarding her guilt or the motives behind the killing. But she and the ROAS compounded their sins by attacking our military at Mesquite. No longer is turning herself over for prosecution enough! Instead, our great president should demand more and punish the ROAS for all their transgressions! We …”

  Tower laughed. There was no way he’d extradite and martyr the bitch.

  “… ask President Tower to demand an apology from the ROAS for their unwarranted attack on US forces. The ROAS should pay for their crimes and allow the people of Nevada to rejoin the United States …”

  Stretching his limbs, the president was growing bored, but he continued to watch.

  “Truth Network polls show the majority of ROAS citizens are begging for the United States to intervene and save them from
the liberal–socialist rot destroying their country. They want to rejoin the United States as it marches towards reunification and Manifest Destiny. We ask the president to grant their wish and …”

  If they don’t, he thought, the Chinese would be on their doorstep in no time. The damn ROAS leadership was too scared, weak, to do anything to stop them. Well, he wouldn’t let that happen. He felt a rumble of hunger as the monologue was wrapping up.

  “… at a minimum, let us pray the ROAS political leadership come to their senses, accept responsibility for their crimes, and take advantage of any offers made by President Tower.

  “As always, the truth shines through.

  “And now I have retired two-star General Jimmy Gordon joining us to cover what happened in Mesquite yesterday …”

  “Mr. President, sorry for interrupting …” said Chief of Staff Mark Wilson, his head poking through the bedroom door.

  “Goddamnit! I’m watching the Truth. What is it?” snapped the president. Angry at having his routine disrupted, he reached across his nightstand and fumbled for the TV remote before jabbing the pause button.

  Wilson, wearing a sharp, pressed suit even though he’d had little sleep, entered the room and glanced at the flat-screen monitor and the frozen political entertainer. Not one to waste time, Wilson said, “The BBC and ROAS Press are reporting President Ortega agreed to extradition, without admitting guilt, before the United States started hostilities. The Truth Network is claiming those reports are false news. What matters is the Russian and Chinese reaction. We briefed the Russians and Chinese before the attack, informing them of our intention to liberate Nevada. The Russians are behaving as expected. They’ve been pounding the media with objections about the attack, but all back channels show a green light. They support the move and want reciprocal treatment for their next adventure. I suggest you talk with them and keep up the reassurances. Meanwhile, the Chinese are misbehaving and ratcheting their rhetoric by threatening to give full and immediate military aid to the ROAS. It seems they believe our intentions go beyond Nevada and are nothing less than repatriation of the entire ROAS.”