Apache Dawn, - [little bear else holmelund minarik txt] 📗

the anxious voice returned, “—in effect. Our satellites have been compromised, a large North Korean force including naval and air assets has invaded southern—”

“Invaded?” asked Deuce. “Who? Taiwan?”

“Southern what?” asked Garza.

“—marines off the eastern seaboard. Apache Dawn is in effect—” The static came back and this time the voice didn't.

“Anvil, this is Hammer 2, Actual, come in!” said Captain Alston. “Anvil!”

He switched frequencies and tried again. “Anvil, this is Hammer 2, Actual, how copy?”

The only reply was static.

He switched frequencies again. “Hammer 2-1, this is Hammer 2, Actual, do you read me?”

The instant reply was two breaks in squelch. Captain Alston leaned his head back against the wall and sighed. “At least we have squad-level comms. Must be only long-distance that’s been killed, along with our satellites.” His brow furrowed in thought, then relaxed. “Apache Dawn…”

“What’s that?” asked Chad.

Captain Alston sighed. “It’s a code. It means the United States has been invaded by foreign forces. Enemy combatants on American soil. If that has happened, it’s bad juju for everyone.” He shook his head. “I just don’t get it.”

“So we don’t know what ‘southern’ meant,” observed Zuka from his corner of the little shack.

“I got an idea,” said the captain. He opened a side pouch on his pack and pulled out a smartphone. “I keep this thing off for OpSec, but you never know when you’ll need it…” He turned it on and waited for it to start up.

Chad shook his head. “Won’t work. Too many valleys and tall mountains around here—cell signals are pretty much blocked completely.”

The phone chirped as soon as Chad stopped talking. Captain Alston grinned. “Okay…couple text messages…Ah, here’s a voicemail.” He held the phone up to his ear and his face split into a smile as he listened.

I didn’t realize we were high enough up to get a signal, yet. Forgot how tall Mt. Vaught is…wish mine had worked when I needed it…

Chad pulled out his own cell phone and noticed with a frown that its display was shattered. The battery case fell apart in his hands. Sighing, he tossed the worthless phone on the floor and rubbed his hands together to heat them up a bit.

At last, Captain Alston pulled the phone away from his ear. He was still smiling.

“Good news?” asked Garza.

“Horrible news,” said the captain, smiling. He hit a button on the phone and the speakerphone came to life.

“—listen to your messages, press 1. To delete, press 7—”

The captain pushed a button. Everyone in the little shack heard the woman’s gentle voice say, “First new message…”

A youthful voice, tight with anxiety, came over the speaker. Chad grinned. She sounded cute. “Hey bro, it’s me. We’re really in the deep-end here. L.A. is a war zone! There’s North Korean marines all over the place, jets strafing buildings and missiles dropping out of the sky all around us. I’m not supposed to be calling you, but the hell with it, they already know where we are. We may not have much time. Look—that flu I was telling you about? It’s bad. Real bad. People who were exposed to the Blue Flu have a chance of being at least partially immune and that’s it. Everyone else seems to be incapacitated—I’m talking bedridden—in 48 hours or less. It’s…worse than before.”

There was some indistinct commotion in the background followed by a big crash and static, then a lot of coughing and finally the captain’s sister came back on the line. “Jesus, that was close. They’re still raining missiles down on the city and that one probably took out a building down the block from us. It’s like an earthquake every time one hits. But they won’t touch this hospital because…” Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper.

Chad imagined her crouching behind something, one hand covering the phone…

“The President is here!” she hissed. “He caught the flu on some campaign fundraiser downtown a few days ago and the Secret Service brought him here at oh-dark-thirty this morning. He’s in real bad shape, Dee…I…I don’t know if he’s going to make it. We don’t have any of the H5N1 vaccine here and I think the antibodies in that vaccine are the only thing that can fight this new strain even, halfway! The really scary thing is we heard the President is dead on the news…but I’m sitting not thirty feet from him right now! What does that mean?”

A different, deeper and rougher voice could be heard in the background, issuing indistinct orders. Then, quite clearly, everyone in the tiny cabin heard, “All right, people, we are leaving! Get your shit wired and prep to jump. We move as a group and we fight as a group. We’re going to cut through these fuckers—”

Captain Alston’s sister returned. “I gotta go, the SEALs are getting us out of here. Their leader’s kinda cute,” she whispered. Chad saw Alston’s face harden.

“We’re heading to some Air Force base around here. My new hospital—All Saint’s—it’s just not safe…God, I wish you were here. I…I love you bro,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. The shouting in the background started up again and a single shot rang out and the message ended.

“End of new messages. To save, press—”

The captain clicked the button to end the call and put the phone down.

“Uh, why you smilin’, Cap? That message sounded pretty bad to me,” asked Deuce.

“Donovan, wipe that confused look off your face. We’re changing our flight plan.”

“What? Don’t we have orders to get this guy to Spokane?” asked Garza.

“We do. But that was before we knew everything we know now.” He stared at his empty hands. “Since we were ordered to Spokane, we have lost direct contact with HQ. We don’t even know if our ride will show up when the weather quits.”

“I still don’t know what the hell is going on,” said Chad.

“Well, we know everything we need to know, now,” replied Captain Alston. He held up a cold finger. “Those NKor bastards are invading southern California, which means we’re at war. That also means the Chinese are involved somehow. North Korea doesn’t take a piss without the ‘go-ahead’ from Beijing—everyone knows that. Our primary mission is to defend this nation—now, we know where to do that.”

Another finger went up. “The President is—or was—at All Saint’s Hospital, in Los Angeles.”

Another finger went up. “My sister is—or was—alive as of last night, at that same hospital.”

Another finger. “Apache Dawn has been put into play. And that means we abort all other missions or tasks and get our asses to the front, get to our CO, and fight to the last man.” Captain Alston paused and looked at every man in turn. Chad watched—no one flinched or seemed to show any sign of reluctance. They were a dangerous-looking group of men.

“Well, gentlemen, we are cut off from our CO—but now we know where our CNC is.”

His thumb went up. “The President is with my sister, along with some Navy SEALs apparently.” His face turned sour. “Leaving aside my sister thinks one of those Squids is cute—” disgust dripped from his tongue and he shook his head, “the President’s already been declared dead—despite the fact that my sister says he’s very much alive. That tells me someone is grabbing power during this shitstorm back in Washington. That don’t fly in my book.” He shook his head again, glowering.

“No, the President is alive and it looks like there’s only one thing that can save him…” He turned to look at Chad. All the Rangers looked at Chad.

Chad put his hands up in front of him. “Whoa…hey…”