Petrov had been in touch constantly with the head of their resistance operation. Now the general needed him again, this time bigger, this time to make a difference.
Until he heard otherwise, until he heard of an unconditional surrender, he was going to believe that the takeover was still hostile, and the United States was in need and wanted assistance as General Welch stated.
The problem was, no one but Canada wanted to assist. Even they were limited in what they could do.
His generals advised against it.
“Do you know what this entails?” his head general asked.
“I do.”
“Do you realize, the wrong move isn’t going to help America? It can and possibly will destroy the world.”
“This is going to destroy the world either way,” Petrov said. “The question is do we sit idly by and wait or do something about it? Anything that can stop it. Even if we fail, we failed trying, not burying our heads. This is what they want of us.”
“We know this from rebels. We don’t know this from the country. I don’t get it,” said the general. “If the terms are the same, if everyone else is negotiating, why are we being the black sheep?”
“If they can do this to the United States, what is next? Who is next?”
The general strained a smile on his face. “Sir, China is not trying for world domination.”
“You don’t think? They have the food, half the weapons in the world. If everyone accepts this, they are dominating.” Petrov walked to his desk. “Take a look at the last intelligence from Canada.”
The general joined him and reviewed the items on the desk. One of which was a large map of the United States.
“There are pockets of resistance according to Welch.” He pointed to the map. “And these locations according to our Canadian friends are other locations that are rogue and fighting.”
“Where are the enemy soldiers?”
Petrov smiled. “They are not spread out like wildfire, they are concentrated.”
“Which makes it easier for us,” the general said.
“I sent a memo to you with the detailed idea of what I think we should do in regard to the American general’s request. How we should proceed.”
“I received it and I responded that it was high risk.”
“If it works, then it is worth it.”
“If it doesn’t, will you still say the same?”
“I must believe I would,” Petrov said.
“Alright then,” the general exhaled. “When do we move?”
“Now. Evacuate the major cities. Move people into the shelters, prepare for the worst,” Petrov said. “Once they are secure… we begin. We end this, one way or another. You know what to do. Let us do it.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Twenty-One Days Post Bombs
Swall, CA – San Joaquin Valley
There had to be rules of the road, curfews, but Joe wasn’t sure about what they were. There was martial law in his area, no travelling on the roads after ten or before sun up. He assumed it was that way everywhere. He had his delivery order for eight cases of Fat Joe tomatoes, that was all. He was pretty certain that if there was anything else he needed aside from the travel form and order, Mary Lou would have gotten it to him.
She made sure, in so many words, to tell him to leave on Sunday. Which made sense, if Joe drove straight through for twenty-four hours, without stopping to rest, he’d be at least a thousand miles away.
Just on the outside chance that they were searching for him and his travel papers were void, Joe prepared for that. Using what fuel he had remaining on his farm, he filled as many five-gallon square containers as he could. He placed them side down on the bed of the truck and covered them with the crates. He secured those with bungee and then placed his packed back and supplies in the back seat of his truck. He brought water, food, blankets, and everything he could think of to survive in the mountains, should he and Toby need to hide out east. The final piece to go was his gun. He tucked it away under the backseat, praying as he did so, that it would never be found should his truck get searched. By the time he was finished, the sun still hadn’t risen. With a couple hours to go, Joe sat in his reclining chair and closed his eyes.
He fell into a deep sleep, woken by the sound of the ringing phone. It stopped by the time he had jumped up to get it. There was no caller ID so there was no way to know who called. One step away from the phone, Joe jumped from his skin when it rang again. Quickly, he answered.
“Hello.”
Breathing. Rushed, shaky sounding breathing.
“Hello?”
“They’re gone,” Mary Lou whispered. She wasn’t crying, but her voice quivered. “They’re all gone, Joe. Dead.”
“Who? Who is dead?”
“Everyone.”
“Mary Lou, what’s going on?”
“God speed, Joe,” she said.
“Mary Lou.”
Click.
She hung up and Joe put down the phone, grabbed his jacket and his keys, pulled the door closed to his house and hurried to his truck.
It was daylight. Joe needed to be on the road headed east, but for all that Mary Lou had done for him, he had to go into town to check on her. It was the least he could do.
Caldwell, OH
Something was different. Toby had fallen asleep the night before finally feeling better and stronger. He only lost his balance now when he stood, instead of all the time. The guy, Cal, had slipped him two of those military MRE packs of peanut butter and Toby devoured them. He even had no problem taking a handful of water from the trough. He just had to put it out of his mind how many people’s dirty hands reached in there. Including his own.
It was weird when Cal slipped the packages to him, he wanted to hug him, thank him, but he couldn’t because he didn’t want to get the dude in trouble. It gave Toby hope that all was not lost.
The protein, the peanut butter was what his body needed. For soul, mind, and body. It powered him up enough that when he woke up he was ready to work on that hole by the fence. The area by the body barricade, not even the soldiers went near there. A section a little over two feet long where there was a separation between the fence and ground. Every couple of hours, Toby would walk by, stare out and use his foot to push the dirt, then the next round, he would bend down, grab a handful of dirt and move on.
Eventually that hole in the ground under the fence would be big enough for him to slip through. Maybe not Harris, but Harris said that was fine. If Toby got out he could try to find help… if there was any to be found.
His mouth was dry when he woke up, which was typical because he was still breathing only through is mouth and Harris wasn’t nearby.
He grumbled out his daily, “Hey,” and when Harris didn’t answer, Toby grew concerned.
Stumbling to stand, Toby held onto the wall until he had his balance. He wanted to make his way to the one water barrel and grab a drink.
When he got there, the barrel was on its side and the entire area around it wet.
Someone had knocked it over. He bent down to touch it and his senses kicked in. He hadn’t noticed it when he opened his eyes because it was always noisy, but on this morning, he heard the sound of trucks, lots of them, in the distance.
Within seconds he heard shouting, voices all meshed together, and he couldn’t make out what they were saying. He looked up and that was when he saw what seemed like every single person in the camp standing at the fences.
Their arms were flailing, voices shouting.
The entire prison yard was empty, they were all there.
He spotted Harris standing in the back. He was hard to miss, he was so tall, and Toby made his way to him.