Apache Dawn - - (classic fiction .TXT) 📗

got some real pretty choppers out there, Jack. I woulda given my left nut for a few of those back in the jungle. Damn Commies woulda shit their pants if they’d ah seen one of them bad boys let loose on ‘em, yes sir!”

Captain Alston smiled broadly. “Hammer 2, stand down. Secure the perimeter and make sure the pilots are ready…” He stepped forward and shook hands with the old man.

“I’m Captain Derek Alston—”

“Army?”

“Yes, sir, Rangers.”

The old man nodded again as he shook Captain Alston’s hand. “Name’s Greg Dixon. I was a lance corporal in the 8th MEU back in the day.”

“Sir, if you don’t mind my asking, what the hell are you doing out here, by yourself?”

The old man sighed. “Well, Jack, money’s tight now.” He shook his head and scratched behind one ear. “Look here, with all the flu scare comin’ back, I offered my services to guard the airport for a while. I had the damn Blue Flu, see? So I figure I’m safe now. Anyway…most folks are scared to travel now but someone needs to watch over their expensive toys. So here I am. Now that I heard the damn Koreans are pushing east—”

“How did you hear that?” asked Captain Alston quickly.

“Oh, soon as I figured I’d be out here by myself a while, I rigged up my HAM gear,” he said, jerking a thumb toward the control tower. “Free power and a helluva antenna setup, yes-sir-ee,” he said with a chuckle. Just as quickly as the laugh came, it disappeared.

“Press ain’t said shit about the invasion, but HAMs been spreading the word now for anyone who’ll listen.” He shook his head sadly. “Them slant-eyed sonsabitches…They’ve damn near conquered L.A., burned a whole slew of towns to the ground up the coast, and marched straight into Spokane not too long ago. Lotta people dying all over the place, Jack, but the worst seems to be L.A. and up here. No one knows why they’d attack now, what with the super flu killin’ people left and right. Idiots.” He spat into the gravel at his feet. “I tell ya, North Korea: land of the cheap sliding-doors and even cheaper slant-eyed whores.” The gray-bearded old man laughed at his own joke and slapped a thigh.

“Son of a bitch,” said Deuce as he shouldered his rifle.

“You can say that again, Jack,” said Dixon, pointing a craggy finger at the big Ranger. “What none of them HAMs can figure is, why? There ain’t no secret bases or anything in Spokane, Washington, fer cryin’ out loud. The hell they want with us anyway? They just had a need to get rid of an army? Gotta figure all their boys’ll be dead from the flu within the week, anyway, am I right?” He shook his head again. “Ain’t no sense in that, Jack, none at all.”

“They took Spokane?” asked Chad, his voice a mere whisper.

“Son,” said the old man, placing a fatherly hand on Chad’s arm. “Don’t you know there’s a war on? Why the hell you want to go to Spokane?”

“They took out the CDC facility,” said Captain Alston sadly. He glanced from Chad to Dixon. “That’s where we were trying to go…”

Chad slumped his shoulders and leaned against the control tower. “Because of me. They were trying to get my blood to the labs there so they could make a vaccine for the flu. The CDC did that ten years ago.”

The old man shook his head, his unkempt, gray hair making a halo around his head. “Well, I don’t know nothin’ about that. But from what I hear, Charlie’s got Spokane under wraps. I don’t think you’ll be going there, son,” he nodded absently toward Captain Alston, “Rangers and choppers or not. There’s just too many of ‘em, boys. Same story back east, only it’s Russians, Germans, and Italians.” The old man spat his contempt.

Captain Alston stood still, lost in thought for a moment, looking right over the old man’s head. Chad felt himself slide down the wall until he was squatting on the ground, his rifle between his legs. He leaned his head forward until his forehead rested against the cold steel of the Henry’s barrel. He was so tired.

Days of running from the North Koreans in Glacier National Park, hiding in the waystation, hiking through the blizzard, the ambush at the landing site, finding out about Atlanta and the flu and now an invasion…it was all too much.

“Well, that settles it,” Captain Alston said. He keyed his mic, “Zuka, tell the pilots to refuel and get ready to leave.”

“Roger that.” The voice was tinny but clear.

“Now listen here, Jack—they pay me to guard this place and I don’t think I can just let you take all the gas…”

“Sir,” said Captain Alston in a deadly serious tone, “our country is being invaded by North Korean forces—and the United Nations—whether anyone in Washington or the press want to call it that or not. The President—the real one—is under siege in Los Angeles and my sister is with him.” He struggled to regain his composure and when he spoke next, it was through clenched teeth.

“The Vice President has seized power and is giving away entire cities to foreign troops. The Koreans have been on our ass for three days now and we have a classic, royal, clusterfuck of a situation on our hands. Without a comm-link to HQ, we are totally on our own.” He turned around, looking at the airfield and rubbing the back of his head angrily.

“My last orders were to get Mr. Huntley here,” he said with a gesture toward Chad, “to the CDC, then get my ass back to my commanding officer and take the fight to the enemy. The only commander I know about right now is my Commander in Chief, who’s sick with the flu and being chased by an army of North Korean soldiers.”

Captain Alston took a breath and continued in a calmer but more ominous tone. “I have at my disposal one group of badass Rangers and,” the tall Ranger waved an arm toward the airfield where the Apaches were clumped together, “a few of some of the most lethal aircraft ever created. I am not going to sit on my thumb and cry. I intend to fight back. And I will not be stopped in my mission, Mr. Dixon. So. You have two options.”

The crusty old man cocked a bushy, gray eyebrow, hooked his thumbs under his belt and rocked back on his heels, clearly unimpressed. He sucked his lip thoughtfully and seemed to chew on a nonexistent plug of tobacco.

“One: you give me the aviation fuel I require to complete my mission and help me bring some pain to the Koreans…”

Dixon nodded sagely and puckered his lips, watching the ground at Captain Alston’s feet.

“Two: I take it. I would rather not have to do that, one veteran to another. But understand me, sir, there is nothing on God’s green earth that is going to stop me from reaching the President—the legitimate President—and my baby sister.”

Dixon rubbed his chin, seemingly lost in thought. He scratched an ear and examined his fingers for earwax. Finally, he looked up at Captain Alston and squinted. “Sounds fair enough, Jack. Since you put it that way…” The old man fished around in one of his pockets. “Here’s the keys to the avi-fuel. Take what you need, boys. Give my regards to Charlie, willya?”

“We surely will. Thank you, sir,” said Captain Alston, reaching for the key.

“One question, sonny,” said Dixon, pulling the key back. “What do you mean by the real President bein’ in L.A.? He’s in Washington.”

“President Denton got the flu in L.A. and my sister is one of the doctors treating him.”

“Ha! Denton’s dead, Jack. Yep. I heard it on the news. Or that beep-beepity-beep announcement thing they keep making.” He shook his shaggy, gray head. “They done sworn in Vice President Barron in some secret ceremony. Anyhow, he’s the new president. I heard his little ‘stay calm’ speech. Martial law across the land. Suspendin’ the cotton-picking Constitution in them big cities back east.” Mr. Dixon spat emphatically at the ground. “Wants all the military boys around the country to report in for new orders. Even callin’ up us old vets. What a load of BS. Like I’m gonna drag my tired ass into a recruiting station—”

“Are you sure?”

“Hell yes, that new president is a slick-looking shyster if I ever seen one. I don’t like him a lick. Look here, didn’t like Denton much, neither. Bunch a lily livered liberals.” The old man spat again. “But they said Denton’s been dead for what, four, five days now? Got the super flu or some damn thing. Guess I can’t blame Barron for takin’ over. But damn if I’ll be happy he nominated that crazy bitch Hillsen to be his VP. Washington done gone insane, Jack.” He blew a raspberry and shook his head. “Whole damn world gone crazy.”

“That’s impossible. I got a phone call from my sister less than 36 hours ago. Denton was alive. They said he’s been dead for four or five days?”

The old man rubbed his scruffy chin whiskers. He cocked an eye at Chad, then at the captain. “Yep. Dead as a doornail. But if what you’re sayin’s true, Jack, we got a problem. Two Presidents. One’s a liar.”

“Hell, they’re politicians—they’re both liars,” muttered Chad.

The old man laughed. Then he shook his head and grew serious. “Boys, somethin’ around here sure stinks like catfish bait, but we ain’t fishin’.”