“Captain, what’s going on?” one of his men asked.
“Mission aborted men. I’m told there will be another raid. Right now, we’re out of sync. So, someone jumped the gun.” He looked left to right until he spotted a large hillside. He then glanced down to his watch. The small compass indicted east. “That… over there. Anyone have suggestions how we can get there? We need to get to high ground.”
“Why?” someone asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Saw a road turn off about four clicks back,” a driver said. “Bet that will take us to high ground.”
“Let’s try it. Everyone back in. Let’s go,” Troy ordered.
They regrouped and reloaded in the trucks. That road was not the one, but they did locate another when looking at the map. Just about the time they were supposed to hit Caldwell camp, they were all on top of the large hillside.
“Okay, we’re on high ground,” a sergeant said. “What now?”
“I’m told to look up.”
“Look up?”
“Look up.” Troy’s simple mysterious message implied for them to look up. On that hilltop, heads tilted back with eyes on the sky, they all did just that and waited.
San Antonio, TX
Resources are not just fresh food and water, it is shelter, medical care… a cure. With the exuberant amount of available hands, the plentiful vat of resources, the finest medical treatment. It is in the best interest of this country to hand over control to the People’s Republic of China. Tens of millions of people are in dire need of medical attention over this virus. In a few minutes, you will bear witness to my proclamation of surrender. I do this not with a heavy heart, but with a clear mind and optimistic view of the future.
Madeline rehearsed her script in the bathroom of her suite before it was time to go.
Good morning. My name is Madeline Tanner. Many of you know me as Speaker of the House. During a domestic attack on our country, those ahead of me in succession for the presidency were killed, and I was sworn in.
She didn’t write it, it was written for her.
We are blessed and grateful that the People’s Republic of China was ready to step in to help. Yet, we have refused their help and that has placed us in a predicament. They are at a loss to fully deliver what we need.
She hated the thought of delivering it but what choice did she have? The surrender was to be such a momentous occasion that it was going to be broadcast to every available citizen who could watch a television. Her makeup and hair were done by a professional brought in to see her that morning, and a tailor fitted her with a perfect suit, aimed to sooth and reassure the public. They were setting up a podium on the Riverwalk, complete with a table where she would sign her surrender with parliament leaders from China.
Madeline was to look happy about it. After the surrender treaty, she would be free to an extent. She was granted permission to watch the rebuilding and reorganizing along with the distribution of food and medical care.
She had a morning drink to calm her nerves and declined a mild anti-anxiety. Fully presentable, she was taken from the hotel by way of limousine to the park where she would deliver the speech.
Fen Shu rode in the front with the driver.
It was a painful ride, emotionally she wanted to run and hide. She hated herself for giving up.
“Almost there,” Fen told her. “A few more moments. Many people are out wanting to see this. It is a glorious day.”
It would be over soon, then she’d find a way to bury her head in shame.
A few moments later, something changed.
Fen’s phone rang.
“Yes,” Fen answered. Then after a pause, the typically cool and calm woman blasted a, “What!” then hurriedly rolled up the window between her and Madeline.
Madeline wasn’t too familiar with San Antonio, she wouldn’t have had a clue that they made an abrupt turn, had that window not gone up.
Suddenly the leisurely drive picked up pace and Madeline was sliding back and forth across the seat with every wild turn until the limousine came to a slamming stop. She shot forward into the seat across from her and banged her head off the corner of the interior window.
She felt the hard pain and the warm feeling on the blood that instantly rolled down her face. In a total state of confusion, she brought her fingers to the injury as she fumbled to get up and back on her seat.
The door opened.
“Out. Now.” Fen reached in and grabbed her. “Hurry.”
“What’s going on?” Madeline asked.
Fen pulled her out of the car with force and Madeline tripped. Her knees buckled and she caught herself before she collided with the concrete.
With a tight grip on her arm, Fen yanked her up and that was when Madeline noticed people were running, yelling. Cars were screeching to a halt, crashing into each other.
“Move,” Fen ordered, pulling her through the street, weaving in and out of cars. They headed toward a coffee shop. “In here.”
Approaching the store front, Madeline paused when she heard the sound of gun fire. She turned to look over her shoulder and gasped in shock when a soldier with a parachute, landed in the street, then another.
She looked up.
The clear blue sky of San Antonio was peppered with hundreds, if not thousands of paratroopers dropping to the ground, and Madeline was positive due to Fen’s reaction, that they weren’t soldiers of the People’s Republic of China.
I-64, Fifty-Three Miles West of Norfolk, VA
Someone on the bus told Cal that if they had driven straight through they would have arrived in about seven hours. But it wasn’t that easy. Just after six in the morning, the yellow school bus arrived. There were two people already on the bus when Cal and another man boarded.
There was a sense that they were no longer prisoners. They were given food for the trip, beverages. There were two soldiers on the bus, but they were told it was for their safety, especially with all the rebel activity.
They travelled south, then north again, hitting various camps and towns to pick up people. All of whom were going back home. It was a United Nations bus. By the time they picked up the final passenger in Charleston, West Virginia, there were twenty-five people in all. Not all were from the UK, some were from Spain, Germany, France.
Cal wondered with each stop they made, Would this camp be hit? Would this one be liberated?
He started to get worried as it pushed toward noon. He knew there was going to be a coordinated attack, he just didn’t want to get caught in it.
But when it was announced Charleston was the last stop, Cal relaxed.
With every mile covered, the mood on the bus lifted.
Cal wondered what he was going home to. Surely, somehow, his home had to be affected by what happened in America. Were they on the brink of war or would Cal sail across the ocean to an unscathed UK?
He didn’t have any details and no one offered much of an answer as to what the voyage would entail or how long it would take. Just that when they arrived, they would board the ship. He spent a lot of time staring out the window, watching the mile markers as they cruised down a barren highway.
A part of Cal was excited. He felt as if he had been rescued from the nightmare. He couldn’t wait to get home, find his family and friends. Hold them in gratefulness. He didn’t look the same as when he left. In the short time he was gone he’d not only lost weight, he’d lost his hair. The doctor at the camp told him it would grow back.
Someone on the bus shouted out, “Just saw a sign. We’re almost there.”