Warlords Page 8

  “I mentioned to you before about the war we were in,” John said. “And I couldn’t help but notice you didn’t flinch.”

  Jerry rolled down the window to let some warm early fall air stream in. “Oak Ridge is a government town, John, don’t forget.”

  “So you know then?”

  “It would have been hard not to. I mean, I worked at the Y-12 National Security Complex in Oak Ridge, which is in charge of dismantling outdated nuclear weapons. It was built during World War Two as part of the Manhattan Project to help build the first atomic bomb.” Jerry made a clicking sound with his teeth. “We didn’t get the nickname Atomic City for nothing. After the power went out, we spent a few days on lockdown. Then a handful of military units rolled in. They might still be there, guarding the stockpile. It’s too dangerous to move, especially given the lack of vehicles. I heard nearly every able-bodied soldier we had left was heading west to meet the Chinese and Russians. But that’s all I know.”

  “Don’t forget the North Koreans,” John said. “Every few days we get a status report from the front.”

  “I’m afraid to ask where that is.”

  “At the moment, it seems to be along the Mississippi river, but as you know, that could change at any moment.” John was still thinking about Jerry’s work at the National Laboratory. “What specifically were you in charge of down there?”

  Jerry waved his hand dismissively. “Oh, nothing cloak-and-dagger, if that’s what you mean. I wasn’t dismantling nuclear warheads. I’m a meteorologist, part of a small team that monitored the weather with satellites and high-altitude balloons.”

  “I would never have made that connection between nuclear disarmament and the need for weather analysis,” John admitted.

  Jerry laughed. “No harm done. The connection seems tenuous until you watch what radiation does when it gets into the atmosphere. It can travel, like a poisonous cloud, with the potential to kill millions. That was why they needed us. If there was ever an accident, we had to know right away which towns and cities were in its path. Think of what happened at Fukushima in Japan.”

  John grew quiet, deep in thought.

  Jerry cleared his throat. “I hope I haven’t bored you.”

  “No, not at all,” John said, gripping the wheel. “Quite the opposite. You’ve given me an idea.”

  Chapter 19

  The trip back to Oneida was uneventful. Jerry continued to tell John about his life. He was a fifty-two-year-old bachelor who had just discovered internet dating before the world as we knew it came crashing down. He spent twenty minutes telling John a horror story about taking a woman out who happened to be mentally unstable and how she’d stalked him for weeks, driving past his home honking at all hours of the night.

  After two more similar stories, John came to the conclusion that Jerry might be smart, but he certainly wasn’t wise. At least not in the ways of love.

  In the end, a trip to scavenge parts to build himself a hot water system for his house was what had landed Jerry in trouble. The hot water system, however, made listening to Jerry’s cringeworthy stories worth it. He’d coiled a hundred feet of five-by-eight-inch rubber tubing on his roof and used a hand pump to draw water down a pipe and out a shower nozzle. The water in the black rubber tubes would be heated by the sun’s rays. A system like this would no doubt work wonders in many of the states further south, but being able to have a warm bath without boiling water was still something to consider.

  Not long after this, the convoy came to the first layer of Oneida’s defenses, the Cecil bridge over the New River. On the north side were foxholes manned by men armed with AK-47s looted from the Chairman’s captured resupply trucks. If they ever got their hands on more heavy weapons, John would love to set up a concealed .50 cal overlooking the bridge. Artillery and mortar teams could also be set up within range to rain down destruction on anyone dumb enough to attack. Once Moss’ people returned from collecting the explosives from the local coal mines, they could begin setting up charges on both sides of the bridge as well as under it in order to blow the thing up in a worst-case scenario. Each of the major highways into town would also have a forward observer concealed a few hundred meters ahead of the defensive line in order to warn the men in the foxholes of any approaching enemies.

  Blocking the road before them were two sentries standing behind a heavy chain that stretched from one end of the bridge to the other. John slowed his pickup and waved out the window as they got closer.

  “Mission accomplished?” a craggy-faced man named Gordon asked. He had bags under his eyes and droopy facial features which made him look in dire need of some sleep.

  “We got what we went for, but not everyone made it, I’m afraid.”

  Gordon undid the chain. “How many casualties?”

  “Three,” John told him, not in the mood to go into details at the moment. He rolled through the checkpoint and picked up speed as he cleared the foxholes.

  A similar exchange played out each time John and the others crossed additional checkpoints. It seemed that in the hours since they’d set out this morning, Moss’ men had been busy digging in.

  Finally, they reached the town proper and were greeted by a sight which made John smile. The .50 cal Colonel Edgar had given them was now mounted onto the bed of a Toyota pickup, a sight which made John wonder if he were living in Mogadishu, not a rural town in the United States.

  Manning the Ma Deuce was none other than Moss.

  John stopped the car, the other vehicles in the convoy moving past him toward the mayor’s office.

  “You couldn’t resist the urge, could you?” John asked, laughing.

  “She’s gorgeous, ain’t she?” Moss replied. “We fired off a few test rounds before and let me tell you, this baby kicks like a mule.”

  Nodding, John asked Moss how the checkpoints were coming along.

  “We’re nearly done. Got a crew on Alberta Street finishing the last emplacement. We don’t have a whole lot to protect it yet, but a few more of these would be nice,” he said, patting the long black barrel. “That was the main reason I wanted our first .50 cal to be fully mobile. Any group of armed thugs won’t stand a chance. Only thing we’re missing is a protective steel plate on the front.”

  John nodded. Moss was right, but of course the problem now wasn’t holding bandits at bay. The enemy at their doorsteps was much meaner and far more sophisticated. Enough to make their only heavy machine gun look like a pea shooter. John only prayed the IEDs could help change that.

  “Do you have an update on the explosives?”

  Moss shook his head and dismounted from the pickup. “I sent out two teams this afternoon and neither of them have returned. I’ll let you know as soon as they do.”

  “Please do. You know where to find me.”

  A few moments later, John was in the middle of turning into the parking lot at the mayor’s office when he saw Diane running frantically from one pickup to another. Members of the convoy who were busy offloading the dead, wrapped in white shower curtains they’d taken from the hardware store, stopped and pointed in John’s direction. She was always the worrywart. Those improvised body bags must have freaked her out. He pulled into the first parking spot he could find and got out, Jerry in tow.

  “Don’t worry, honey, I’m fine,” John said. “We ran into a little resistance is all.” He pointed to Jerry. “This is—”

  “Please tell me the boys are with you.”

  “You mean Gregory and Brandon?”

  “Of course, John. I’ve been looking for them all day. I just assumed they’d decided to go along with you to Oak Ridge at the last minute.”

  John shook his head, feeling the horrible sensation that something was wrong. “They must be here somewhere.”

  “They’re not,” Diane shouted. “I’ve searched everywhere. You don’t think they hopped that train to the front, do you?”

  “I told them they couldn’t go, so they must be here somewhere,” John said, not ent
irely sure he believed it himself. But that stabbing feeling in his gut was quickly rising to his heart and with it the certainty that the boys had not only defied him but that they were headed for grave danger.

  Reese was only a few feet away and John ran to him at once.

  “You know, if I’d been the same age,” Reese said, “I’d have probably done the same thing myself.”

  John felt the same way, but it was hardly any consolation. “These boys haven’t snuck out the window at night to go drink beer or shoot guns in the woods. There’s a war going on. This isn’t a game.”

  Reese dropped his cigarette and stubbed it out. “I’m with you. So you want me to go fetch ’em?”

  “I do,” John said, nodding. “And take someone with you.”

  Moss arrived just then, his smile fading when he saw something serious was going on. John explained.

  “Damn kids. Used to be cops and robbers when I was a kid,” Moss lamented. “Now boys just wanna play Call of Duty with real guns. Reese, I’d go with you, but—”

  “I don’t need any help to rustle up a couple kids. Besides, I’ll go faster if I’m alone. Maybe it’ll give me a chance to knock some sense into ’em on the way back.”

  “Take Betsy,” John told him, fishing in his pocket for the keys.

  “We don’t have the fuel, John,” Moss informed him. “That’s what I was coming to tell you. The trip to Oak Ridge just used up the last of what we had. Might take a couple days before we can scrounge some more up.”

  John wanted to swear, but held his cool. Having to swallow his anger only intensified the emotion. “Can you ride?” John asked, suddenly remembering the horses.

  “Aren’t the free horses being used for farming right now?” Moss asked.

  “Well, they can be recommissioned. Can you ride?”

  Reese nodded. “You kidding? I rode competitively in the State Fair.”

  “Good,” John said, feeling a small measure of relief. “Then pick the best horse we have.”

  “He’ll need to take two, boss,” Moss said. “The boys are gonna need to ride something on the way home, unless you want them to walk.”

  “Walking would do them some good. Just take whatever you need and hurry back as soon as you can.”

  “Roger that,” Reese replied. He retrieved his Remington sniper rifle from the front seat of the pickup he’d driven from Oak Ridge and stalked off toward the barn.

  John went into the mayor’s office to find Henry. He would send a message to Colonel Higgs to be on the lookout for Gregory and Brandon and ask him to hold the boys until Reese arrived to escort them home. From his previous conversations with the colonel, John knew the front was a chaotic and dangerous place. As a sniper and tracker, Reese was the best man for the job. No doubt about it. John only hoped that would be enough.

  Chapter 20

  The train steaming toward the front had just run through Newbern, Tennessee, only a few miles from their final destination of Dyersburg and the Mississippi river, when the two boys began hearing the concussion from distant artillery fire. Brandon caught the look of sudden fear on Gregory’s face, as though the plan they’d devised to help defend their country, one which had sounded positively awesome on paper, had in reality been a colossal mistake.

  Had America not been in such a desperate situation, they would never have been allowed on this train in the first place. But wasn’t every able-bodied citizen expected to take up arms in whatever way they could? During one of his long chats with John, Brandon had learned about how the Germans had conscripted boys as young as Gregory to help defend Berlin against the Russians. It might not be something you saw on the nightly news—back when there was such a thing as TV and channels like CNN and Fox—but when able-bodied soldiers were in short supply, kids were often used in their place. That had been part of Brandon’s speech to Gregory as soon as they found their seats, the train still sitting at the station in Oneida. But now, feeling the earth tremble every time one of those shells landed, Brandon wondered if in the end he hadn’t been trying to convince himself.

  The train was packed to the gills with soldiers, some in uniform, but most wearing regular clothing. Several were even standing in the middle aisle and had been the whole time.

  Questioning looks from a few of those around them had been frequent at the outset of the trip. When a nervous-looking guy with short, wavy hair and dark-rimmed glasses had asked if they knew where this train was headed, Brandon explained they were going to the front to be messengers. That seemed to satisfy the man, who left them alone from then on.

  A soldier with three chevrons on his arm pushed his way into their rail car and cupped his hands over his mouth. “Five minutes to Dyersburg. I repeat, we disembark in five minutes. Gather your things. Don’t leave anything behind or you will lose it forever. Once everyone’s off, this train is heading back to bring more troops and supplies. After you exit the train, you will be given a uniform, a weapon and organized into units.” He repeated the message two more times before shoving through to the next car.

  With every passing second, this was becoming more real and more frightening.

  Gregory’s eyes were darting around. “Maybe if we stay on the train it’ll head back to Oneida?” he suggested, not entirely able to hide the panic in his voice. His eyes were watery, as though he were on the verge of tears.

  “Maybe, but what will they think of us back home? Cowards is what they’ll call us. You remember how we defended the cabin? We can’t lose face just because we’re scared.”

  “You’ve shot a man before,” Gregory said, referring to the time when Cain’s men had attacked them.

  “More than one,” Brandon corrected him. “And I was even one of the first into Oneida when we liberated it.”

  Gregory’s face fell. “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. You’ve done all that ’cause you’re older. I’ve only shot at static targets. In the cabin, I was mostly reloading the magazines for my dad’s AR-15.”

  “But this was your idea.” Brandon was getting annoyed.

  “It seemed like the right thing to do, but I’m not so sure anymore.”

  A deafening explosion rocked the train, throwing both boys forward. The people standing were flung to the ground by the force of the train coming to a sudden halt. Cries rang out from the wounded.

  There was a cut beside Brandon’s left eye where his face had impacted the chair seat in front of him. “Are you okay?” he asked Gregory, who looked more terrified than hurt.

  “I think so. What happened?”

  “No idea. We may have hit something.”

  Two of the cars being pulled by the locomotive were flatbeds housing anti-aircraft batteries and those began firing at once. Peering through the spiderweb crack in the window, Brandon caught sight of a missile streaking out from the train toward a pair of helicopters hovering nearby. It struck the first chopper a second later, creating a ball of flame and sending the burning wreckage spiralling out of the air where it landed in an empty field.

  “We’re under attack,” Brandon shouted. “We need to get off this train.”

  Each of them reached for their backpacks as large-caliber rounds tore through the train car, killing men all around them. The boys dove to the ground only to find themselves lying on a body that was once human, but was now hardly recognizable. Struggling through the carnage, they made their way the short distance to the rear exit and stumbled out onto the edge of the tracks.

  Thick black smoke billowed up from where the front locomotive used to be. Dozens of other passengers were pouring off the train now, running for cover from the remaining chopper circling overhead. One of the anti-aircraft batteries had already been knocked out. It looked like a double-barrelled 40mm turret that had been pulled off of an old, outdated tank, except now it was largely twisted metal with bodies strewn about it.

  In the distance, Brandon spotted the town of Dyersburg. Like the others who’d come scrambling off the train along with them, many were he
aded in that direction. Hundreds of them ran for their lives while heavy rounds from the remaining enemy chopper cut down as many as they could. The two boys had gone looking for adventure and instead they’d found hell on earth.

  Chapter 21

  Tossing restlessly in bed, John was having difficulty relaxing his mind. Time and time again his thoughts returned to Gregory and Brandon. Wherever they were and whatever they were doing, John prayed they were safe and looking out for one another. Gradually, he let go and let sleep overtake him. That was when he found himself back in Nasiriyah.

  It had been close to ten minutes since either John or his JTAC Lewis had heard from Charlie Company. Calls had come over the radio from other men in Bravo, asking if they could push along the two miles between them and reinforce their embattled brothers in arms. But Bravo Company was having problems of its own. Rain last night had softened the ground, turning the terrain north of the bridge that John’s men were holding into a quagmire. Over half of the Bradleys were now stuck in the mud and many of the twenty-seven-ton vehicles had only dug themselves in deeper by rocking back and forth. The good luck they’d been having after the A-10 helped to silence the Iraqi fire on their position was starting to evaporate.

  Several soldiers had exited the Bradleys and were doing what they could to help dislodge them. They were in an increasingly vulnerable position. If another attack were to begin, his men would be sitting ducks.