“No sweat, sir. I’m used to it.”
Lewis slowly licked his mouth. It was painful to watch. He was looking worse by the second. “I did find out one other thing. As I said, I checked your records.” He smiled faintly. “Your father is Colonel Stan Higgins.”
“Yes sir. That’s true.”
“He’s close by, Corporal.”
“He’s in Greater Denver, sir?”
“Close,” Lewis said. “I’m not sure of his exact location. But I’ve spoken with the doctor. As soon as you leave my room, the doctor is going to patch you through to your father.”
“Sir?” Jake said. “Thank you very much, sir. That’s…that’s kind of you.”
“This blasted war,” the captain said. “You give the Chinese trouble from now on. Love your country, Higgins.”
“I do, sir.”
“Yeah,” the man whispered, his words weakening as he spoke. He was like a balloon giving its last air before becoming limp. His eyes closed with a will of their own. In another moment, he breathed deeply, fast asleep.
“He needs his rest,” the doctor said.
“Will he be okay?” Jake asked.
“Given time,” she said, “a long time. But unless this war lasts several years, he’s no longer going to do any fighting.”
That meant Jake would have to get along with the Lieutenant. That was great news, oh yeah.
“Would you come with me please?” the doctor said.
“Where to?” asked Jake. Now what?
“We have a phone call to make,” she said.
“Tonight?”
The doctor studied him. “I spoke with your captain earlier. He told me—well. Let’s just leave it at this: You may not have another chance to talk to your father.”
“Is my father dying?”
“What? Oh no, that’s not what I meant. Are you coming?”
“Sure,” Jake said. “Let’s make the call.”
The stars blazed overhead as the giant tanks revved with power. One by one, the Behemoths lurched out of their holes, climbing a dirt ramp.
Huge truck-trailers pulled up on the snow-covered asphalt. They were massive vehicles with outrageously huge tires and large cabs: Behemoth carriers.
Colonel Higgins oversaw the activity and acted like a lowly cop directing traffic, waving his arms first one way and then another. He’d been running back and forth between tanks. A bullhorn hung by a strap from his neck. His throat was sore from yelling and from inhaling too much of the cold air.
The Chinese had attacked with massed bombers and heavy drones. They must have failed to close I-70, because the President of the United States had given the order.
We’re on our way to Salt Lake City.
That meant I-70 must still be open, but for how long? Clearly, the President or the Joint Chiefs must believe the Chinese would eventually cut Denver’s backdoor supply route.
“Colonel Higgins!”
Stan turned around. The CP captain ran toward him. The man held a mobile phone.
“There’s a call for you, sir,” the captain panted, handing him the phone.
In the wash of Behemoth and carrier-hauler headlights, Stan raised an eyebrow. “Who is it?”
“Colonel, it’s your son Jake.”
A flood of emotion pulsed through Stan. He ran to the phone, his boots squelching across the snow. He snatched the receiver out of the captain’s hand.
“Jake?” Stan asked. “Is that you, son?”
“Hey, Dad,” Jake said. “How are you doing?”
Stan blinked rapidly, with tears welling in his eyes. “Jake, you’re alive.”
“Yup,” Jake said.
“Where were you? Where are you? How did you find out where I was?”
“I was in Texas,” Jake said. “It went bad and we lost badly. The Chinese cut us to ribbons, surrounded most of us and forced people to surrender. Some of us decided…well, to fight our way out.”
Stan grinned and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. This was unbelievable.
“Trouble is,” said Jake, “the Chinese were everywhere. They’re heavily patrolling the Occupied Territories. Out of the survivors…well, I’m the only who made it out.”
“To our lines?” asked Stan.
“Yup. I reached Colorado, returned to the Detention Center—”
“What?”
“They thought I’d deserted.”
“What?”
“It’s a long story, Dad. I had to convince the Detention Center people that I hadn’t deserted our side.”
“They’re crazy!”
“I’m beginning to wonder if I am. Anyway, I asked them to add me to the Eleventh Battalion roster.”
“Where is it?”
“We were in Castle Rock.”
“But…that’s where the Chinese struck,” Stan said.
“Tell me about it. It was almost as bad as Amarillo.”
“You can’t still be in Castle Rock. The Chinese stormed it. They haven’t captured you, have they?”
“No. I’m in Highlands Ranch.”
“Where’s that?”
“It’s a suburb of Denver, west of Centennial.”
The flood of emotion hit Stan all over again. “Jake. You’re alive. My son is alive. It’s so good to hear your voice. You have no idea, no idea.”
“It’s good to hear you, too, sir.”
Stan laughed. Then he sobered up. His boy was in Denver, the city the Chinese wanted bad enough to send two entire armies to capture it. The city was going to fall. That was clear to see.
“Jake, you have to leave there. I want you to—”
“Dad, no one is going to let me leave anywhere. I’m in a DCM Battalion. That’s almost like a Chinese penal battalion.”
“Don’t say that.” Certainly not over an open line.
“Dad, I’m going to die here. I might as well speak if the truth if that’s what’s stranded me here in the first place.”
Stan squeezed the receiver.
“Dad?”
“I’m here,” Stan said. “Maybe I can get you released from the battalion.”
“Sure,” Jake said. “You can call. But they’re sticklers for rules. Look, I have to go. The doctor needs the phone. Boy am I glad I got to talk to you, sir. I…I, ah, miss seeing you, Dad.”
“I love you, Jake. You know that, right?”
“Yeah. I… I, ah, love you too, Dad.”
Stan blinked again, and he wiped his eyes. This was so unfair. This was horrible. His son who he thought was dead, gone or captured by the Chinese, was alive again.
“Listen to me, son.” Stan paused. What should he tell his boy? This might be the last time he ever spoke to him. Should he tell Jake to play it safe? Stan squeezed the receiver harder than ever. For some reason, he remembered Pastor Bill from Alaska. That old soldier, his best friend, someday in heaven he planned to see Bill again. If his son died in Denver, he would see Jake again in heaven, too.
Stan shook his head. How did people make it without God? He had no idea.
“You listen to me, Jake. You’re a soldier of the United States of America. You fight hard. You beat those sons of bitches and survive. It’s so good to hear your voice. Jake, I’m proud of you. I’m proud how you stand up for yourself and stand up for the truth. I love you, and I know—”
Stan couldn’t speak anymore. It was too hard. His voice almost cracked up.
“Thanks, Dad,” Jake said in a rough voice. “That means a lot to me. I’m going to be like you, sir. I’m going to be like Grandfather.”
“You’re a Higgins,” Stan whispered.
“Just like my dad. I have to go now.”
“Bye son,” Stan said.
“Bye, Dad, and thanks for everything.”
Stan didn’t remember handing the phone back to the captain. He didn’t remember wiping tears from his cheeks. He stared up at the stars, barely noticing a dark shape—an owl—winging through the night.