“Call out all your forces-every hidden redoubt-all your knights scattered across Europe. Tell them that the time has come. There can be no hesitation. We must strike as fast as we can.”
Alexander said, “It will take time to muster those forces.”
“No, we have no time,” Trevor insisted. “Have them join us along the way. We will be one mighty horde growing in size as we move across Europe and into the heart of Russia.”
A smile-no, a grin-grew on Armand’s face. A big, evil and satisfied grin.
Alexander again protested, “But, Trevor, what about our supply lines? What about logistics?”
“We don’t need them.”
“Yeah,” Armand shot with that grin beaming, “logistics are for pussies.”
“We take what we can carry. We live off the land as best we can. But the only thing of importance is that we attack before Voggoth realizes his mistake, before his creatures start popping up in front of us again. We have to be one giant sword stabbing into our enemy.”
Alexander offered a long exhale. Armand nodded his head, smiling. They both stared at Trevor, waiting for the last word.
Trevor recalled the Chaktaw leader named Fromm from that parallel Earth as he mustered his forces for a great battle. He remembered what he had said on that day. Trevor repeated those words to his new allies.
“We march.”
16. Preemption
“I don’t want you to go, Daddy. Please stay.”
Jon knelt in front of his nine-year-old girl and ran a hand over her long, dark hair. She usually returned his gaze with beautiful eyes that were-as much as any could be in that new world-innocent. But eleven days ago her mother had been murdered by The Order’s assassins.
Together, Jon and Catherine Nina Brewer had drifted through a memorial, a funeral, and a bereavement dinner. Worse, they drifted through a quiet house with daddy sleeping beside his daughter each night to stem her nightmares and to keep from facing his own empty bed.
The knock at the front door came for a second time. A soft knock. Courteous. Somber.
Catherine glanced at the closed door then back to her father.
“If you go, you won’t come back and I’ll be all alone. I don’t want you to go!”
How could Jon answer that? Voggoth’s armies had firmly established their operating facilities in Kansas City and western Missouri. All of the enemy’s preparations appeared ready and the most recent intelligence reports-perhaps the most terrifying and puzzling reports ever provided by Gordon Knox-suggested the great battle along the Mississippi river would be a human slaughter.
Adding it all together, Jon did not expect to return home; he did not expect to see his daughter again, despite the fancy plan brewing in his head.
Desperate plan.
Of course, he could not tell her as much.
“I have to go, honey. I don’t want to. But I have to.”
She stuck out her lip and glared at him as if anger might accomplish where pleading failed. Jon turned from her and answered the front door.
“Jon. How are we doing?” Ashley asked as she followed Gordon Knox-rolling in his powered wheelchair-inside.
“As expected,” the general answered and then addressed Catherine. “Like I said before, Ashley and Mr. Knox will look after you while I’m gone.”
Ashley followed the cue and approached Catherine in an effort to make small talk about things they would do, fun to be had, and lots not to worry about. Jon took the opportunity to speak quietly with Gordon Knox.
“Anything new on your end?”
Knox shook his head and answered, “No. Jon, my people have no idea how The Order built up to such a level, even accepting that they might have established more farms faster than ever before. There is just no accounting for it. The SR-71 did another run yesterday evening and it’s still the same picture. We’re estimating his main force to be more than double what it was after the Rockies fight. What about you?”
“Wow. I just don’t get it. They came out of thin air,” he shook his head and answered Knox’s question, “Operation Baseplate should be ready to go tomorrow. I’m flying out now to brief Shep and the rest. The fuel supplies and armament load-outs are already at the airfields.”
“With the Chrysaor still out of action, it could be a suicide run,” Gordon spoke plainly with no drama and not as a critique of the plan, just a fact.
“She won’t be up and running for three more days. I don’t think we have that long. Besides, everything we do now could be a suicide run. But just waiting around for them to hit us…”
“I hear you,” Knox offered one of his trademark smiles that came across as much scary as in good humor, wheelchair or not. “We’ll just tough things out on this end.”
“I’m going to stay out and see this through. I probably should have left days ago.”
“Don’t say a word, Jon. You did what any man would do. Any husband-or father. Don’t second-guess yourself.”
“I suppose I do that a lot,” Jon admitted. “I guess no one is perfect.”
“Speak for yourself,” Knox smiled even broader and the scariness went away. “Anyway, if things go, well, badly out there then you can count on Ashley here to keep Catherine out of harm’s way.”
“Exodus protocols ready to go?”
“Not for me,” Gordon tapped the handles of his wheelchair. “This old thing becomes a bit more of a liability if we start running and hiding again. Besides, that was never my style. But your girl will be on one of the first boats out if we activate Exodus.”
“That’s your decision. Monitor what happens out west and if you lose contact with me, make the call.”
Knox nodded.
Jon returned to his daughter. Despite Ashley’s best efforts, Catherine would not willingly accept the situation.
“Honey, I’ve got to go now.”
“It’s not fair.”
He took her tiny fingers in his big hands. He thought about her words. He thought about the whole damn invasion, the war, and the deck Voggoth stacked in his own favor.
“It has never been fair. Fair just isn’t a part of it.”
Before Armageddon, St. Clair Square held the distinction of the largest shopping mall south of Chicago thanks to more than 140 stores on two levels brightened by sky lights and 1,000,000 square feet of retail space.
During The Empire’s march west the mall re-opened as a barter center and-with Interstate 64 directly to the north and two air fields within minutes-a shipping waypoint.
As the last of the civilian population pulled out of the greater St. Louis area, St. Claire Square played a new role: command center.
From the point of view of General Jerry Shepherd, St. Claire served as the most recent command center. Not quite two weeks ago he survived-barely-The Order’s assault on his HQ at Riverfront Park in Kansas City. Shep knew that that park now operated as a center of operations for his enemy. Needless to say, this did not sit well with the general but battlefield reverses had become the norm during the last year.
St. Claire felt a lot like Riverfront had the day of the assassinations: vehicles driving to and fro; crates of supplies scattered around the large parking lot and a collection of weary veteran troops withdrawing east mixing with green newbies marching west.
Inside the mall different units created command centers out of what used to be shops. As Shepherd strolled the second story promenade he saw a group of soldiers standing beneath the facade of what used to be Bath and Body Works. The scented candles and gift baskets were long gone replaced with ammunition boxes, a metal filing cabinet on a hand truck, and radio equipment. Freckle-faced Benny Duda wore his black officer’s uniform with a patch on his shoulder depicting a hand gripping an axe; the icon for the 1 ^ st Mechanized Division.
He saw more men with more patches moving between stores-turned-unit-commands. He saw a young courier with a cowboy hat with a patch of a hand brandishing a broadsword on his shoulder. That patch indicated the 2 ^ nd Mechanized Division of Virginia.