“If we don’t find or grow a lot more food in the next month or two most of us won’t need to worry about electricity.”
Static crackled over the radio and Caden glanced that direction and then at the still dark lights.
David smiled at his confusion. “The radio has battery backup.”
They both returned to their coffee.
Forty minutes later Caden stood in a darkened hallway still considering what to say. As he did he stared at the backs of those assembled in the gym. About forty soldiers stood in formation waiting for him to enter. Behind them were about ten civilians, mostly women, and about as many children. A podium stood at the far end with Brooks to the right of it.
He took a deep breath and marched into the room.
“Company, attention,” Brooks announced.
“At ease,” Caden responded. As he walked up to the podium he still had only a vague idea of what he wanted to say. Give them a sense of purpose, a mission and direction.
After reading his orders aloud, Caden scanned the faces of the assembled soldiers. Taking a deep breath he proceeded. “I was in Washington D.C. on that terrible day. I know the horror and the pain of loss that many of you have experienced.
“I traveled with Governor Monroe back to Washington State. From the moment I met him he has been striving to solve problems brought on by the terrorist attacks. He is working hard to get people home and the economy up and running. Food and fuel are being distributed. Power is being…will be restored.
“We are going to be a part of that process. The road ahead will not be easy, but each of us has a role in the restoration of this nation.”
The lights blinked, came on for a moment then died. Caden sighed and continued. “Our orders are to assist local authorities in maintaining law and order and help provide aid. Together with Sherriff Hoover we are going to secure Hansen, the farms around it and outlying communities. The army already has secured the freeway. It is open to travel, both to the north and south. We are going to clear the state highway from Hansen to the on ramp so that the town can be supplied.” He looked up at the darkened ceiling, “The lights will come back on. The day will come when you can go home.”
Looking out at those before him, Caden could see emotions ranging from hopefulness to despair.
“Finally, Lieutenant Brooks has done an outstanding job. I concur with his decision to move families into the armory. We are going to keep our loved ones safe while we do our job.”
A murmur of approval swept the gym.
That seems like a good note to end this on. Caden stepped away from the podium and said, “Lieutenant Brooks, dismiss the men.” Walking quickly through the ranks of soldiers he exited the gym.
From the hallway he heard, “Company attention. Dismissed.”
Back at the office Caden sat staring out the window. He could barely detect the position of the sun through the gray clouds that cast the world in shadow. He felt the cold now on his nose and ears. A few snowflakes flitted through the air outside.
“Excuse me sir.”
It was Brooks’ voice. Still looking out the window Caden said, “Yes?”
“I just wanted to say that I liked what you said, and not just the comment about me. I think it helped.”
He smiled and turned to face Brooks. “Thanks. I hope it did.”
The radio crackled and then a frightened, hurried voice was heard. “Company HQ this is second squad.” From the small speaker the sound of gunfire and metal scraping metal seemed to fill the room. “We’re under fire.”
Chapter Twenty
One of the privates in the office grabbed the mic. “Roger Second Squad, we read that you’re taking fire.” He looked to Brooks expectantly.
Brooks turned to Caden. “Fourth squad is the duty rapid response unit.”
“Deploy them.”
While the private relayed word that help was coming, Brooks grabbed the mic for the building intercom then slammed it down apparently remembering the power was out. Pointing to a PFC he said, “Find Corporal Sanchez and have his team reinforce second squad.”
Helmet in hand, Brooks headed for the door.
“XO,” Caden said, “I’m coming with you.” Brooks started to protest, but he insisted. “I need to see the situation.”
He nodded and left at a jog. Caden hobbled along behind cursing his throbbing leg and ankle. As they hustled out the building two Humvees sped out the gate.
“Here,” Brooks called, “We’ll go in my truck.” He pointed to a red Ford pickup.
Jogging toward it Caden said, “I didn’t figure you for a pickup kind of guy.”
“It was abandoned and I thought it would be useful.”
Sliding in Caden noticed a shotgun behind the seat.
Brooks turned the key and the trucked lurched forward, shot out the gate, and down the hill. Then turning right he sped toward the fight.
Caden had rarely driven out this way, but he knew they were only a minute or two from the bridge. “Isn’t there a power plant a few miles up the North Road?”
“Yes, beyond the refugee camp, but it was closed last year. It’s a coal-fired plant and couldn’t meet the new environmental regulations.”
“That’s right and the mine is next to it.”
“The coal from that old pit is high in sulfur so they closed it down about five years ago. These last few years they brought coal in from out of state.”
Caden thought for a moment. “I wonder if we could get the plant back up and running?”
“We could try. That might solve our power problems.”
“That’s what I’m thinking. And is the city hydroelectric dam functioning?”
“Just barely. We drive out with a couple of workers every other day to check on it.”
He could hear shots now. Brooks pulled off on a simple dirt lane. Fifty yards up he stopped beside a green tent.
Strapping the helmet to his head and staying low, Brooks moved forward. “We can see the bridge from over there.” He reached the position first and, picking up binoculars, he said, “Those civilians are either desperate or drunk.”
Caden hobbled up to the sandbagged and camouflaged observation post a moment later. Borrowing the binoculars he looked down at the fire fight. It was clear what happened. Some of the refugees got a dump truck, sped it across the bridge and slammed it into the bulldozer the soldiers used to barricade the road. Apparently they hoped to smash through the blockade, but the dozer won. The front of the truck was crumpled and twisted. The bulldozer had been moved a foot or two or perhaps the soldiers had parked it at a slight angle, either way, it still blocked the bridge.
The windshield of the truck had been shattered. Looking through binoculars, Caden saw several bullet holes in the remaining glass. The body of the driver was slumped against the door. About half-a-dozen refugees with rifles were behind the dump truck firing on the soldiers. Caden shook his head. We’re engaged in a fire fight with our own people.
Hundreds of refugees remained on the far side of the river, huddled behind cars and trees, trying not to get shot. “We’ve got good firing angles on the shooters, better cover and more men.” The guys on the bridge aren’t going to break through the barricade; they’re going to get themselves killed. Caden said, “I need to talk to the First Sergeant.”
Brooks led the way down the dirt lane to the main road. Staying low and following the gully he led Caden toward the fight. Bullets flew past them hitting the embankment and trees a few feet above where they stood in the ditch.
Caden leaned to the left to get a better view of the soldiers ahead.