False providence, p.34
False Providence, page 34
“It really is an invasion…” Ramon gasped
“What?” I stare at him with wide eyes, I can feel myself shaking and I admit I'm afraid, had danger ever looked so obvious I wonder?
“It’s an invasion” He repeated as he looked on at the dust cloud moving west and across the horizon.
“Magda wouldn’t dare!” I squeal in puzzlement even though I know deep down, I’m lying to myself.
“If she murdered your father like you said she did then a coup like this would be just her style, don’t you think?” The Wrangler panted in the heat and rubbed his chin from the sweat that oozed around his cheeks.
“Why am I getting the impression this whole mission was a ruse?” I groan flatly and I lean back and shrink away from the truth like some scolded child.
“It’s a possibility” Ramon answered simply, being ever so slightly patronizing as only brotherly friends can.
“He’s your father” I snap wearily before I stumble from the rocks to the sandy terrain
“Who knew yours for a very long time, in hindsight he did what any father would – He got you out of harm’s way” Ramon shrugged as he drank from his second canteen.
I was dumbstruck when I really should have known better, brothers-in-arms had no need for paper and contracts, their word was their bond, their oath to each other was their own will and testament.
Even months after his death Glenn Wyatt thought ahead and it was here that a horrid thought came to mind. With all the best intentions, all his best hopes and man power he knew somehow that invasion was inevitable and that his last command was that I remain safe.
I was a little dehydrated for tears, it wouldn’t have done me any good with the harsh glare of the sun, my vision was already impaired because of it.
Another low hum echoed over the Arizona sky, it was a stutter then a loud whirr and before long a helicopter came roaring back over their heads.
“Trespassers, this is a restricted area, stay where you are or you will be fired upon – You are under arrest by the authority of the Republic” The pilot megaphone rang out over us, we hunker down together in a sunken crevice and warily put our hands over our heads despite the down draft of the propellers making confetti out of desert dust.
“You believe that?” I shout over the man-made sandstorm
“No! Not for a second!” I hear Ramon even though he’s nothing more than a silhouette at that moment.
“A splinter group perhaps?” I make the mistake of simply talking while the downdraft is still strong and I pay for it dearly.
“Texas was always big enough to do anything, so maybe” He nods as he shouts his answer at me.
Ramon catches me as I stumble as the dirt shoots in my eyes and mouth. He rushes to the Ducati never once letting go of my hand, I’ve always hated being vulnerable with anyone but I’m still grateful for the chivalry.
Pulling me on the motorbike he races on for a few miles as I buckle against his back, I hear the pilot and the high pitch screech of the helicopter engine, I hear the pilot again but not as loud as my heart beating. A few seconds I hear a rattle of bullets being fired, to call them warning shots would be a disservice to military etiquette. A warning shot is one, a polite plural – It is not nor will it ever be a rain of several bullets fired too close for comfort!
We turn towards two rocks aligning each other with some shelter from the onslaught…We hoped anyway. I didn’t want to turn around, the rush of air was evidence enough for me that he was chasing us. We threw ourselves off the motorbike and slammed against the limestone, after hovering long enough the helicopter turned back. I clutch Ramon’s wrist as we watch him go, his heartbeat was as rapid as mine felt. We looked at each other shell shocked and shaken.
“Give me the damn radio” I quiver softly, I watch him shuffle through the rucksack and took out a battered vertex walkie talkie.
Pulling the Antenna into place is a slow process as my nerves are still shot, Ramon paws my shoulder before walking further up as lookout.
“Scout to Eagle Ridge, Scout to Eagle Ridge, come in”
Nothing, not even static, my heart was sinking really deep
“Scout to Eagle Ridge, Scout to Eagle Ridge, urgent correspondence, over?”
Nothing, a whole dark empty world of nothing
Until a crackle, then a long buzzing sound.
“Eagle Ridge to Scout, we’re reading you loud and clear” slurred the operator over the tinny boxed walkie talkie.
I roll my eyes at the lie then scratch my forehead with the plastic antenna.
“Status: Urgent, Mountain Summit must be relayed to me effective immediately, do you understand? Immediate communique with Mountain Summit is requested – No – Demanded…As in now, right now over?”
One word in the tone of an alarmed or slighted communications officer was spoken back.
“Understood”
The walkie talkie goes silent again and I slump down on top of my rucksack and dig out my water, after a few gulps I unwisely drench myself, the pleasure is a glorious guilt for I wasn’t really sure we were going to make it.
“Eagle Ridge to Scout, this is Mountain Summit, what’s the trouble Little Wolf that Howls?” The Colonel said tersely, hearing my specially gifted nickname should have comforted me, should have brought on thoughts of home but it just emphasized the sting of a well-intentioned betrayal even more.
“Eagle, how far back did he plan this? Was it given a name?” I say very quietly into the speaker. There was silence but I then hear a cough or two, Franklin Senior composing himself no doubt.
“Little Wolf, he had the best of intentions- always had whenever it came to you but it would have been wrong of him not to prepare for this” The Medic said solemnly.
The sun’s heat can be cruel and make us cruel along with it, I hesitated at first but then I press the speaker box hard against my lips. I easily admit I wasn’t a level-headed soldier at that moment, in all honesty it felt like a half-life since a bullet crashed into my father’s chest and took him from me.
“Yeah well I’m calling it Operation Wrath and they’re about to smite Blythe town, you’ve got three hours at the most” I was annoyed enough not to sign off like protocol demanded but to say I was irate would be a very poor understatement.
“We have no choice, we have to make it back to the border, patrol or no patrol” I call over to Ramon, we swiftly dash to the Ducati and scramble on to the seat.
“Hold on to me, this will get rough” Ramon sounded rather dour but the Arizonian desert wasn’t exactly Pumice smooth.
In the dust and the rattle of rocks and pebbles being smashed under the wheels I try for a few glances upward and the pilot is thankfully lazy and only follows us a few miles before turning off but it doesn’t lessen the sense of urgency in neither Ramon or myself.
Chapter 14
‘What a cruel thing is war; to destroy families and friends, and mar the purest joys and happiness God has granted us in this world, to fill our hearts with hatred instead of love for our neighbors…’
General Robert E. Lee, Christmas Day 1862
Big brown eyes loom large, a bony hand tremors slightly and Jeremiah Franklin-King comes face to face with the day at last. The day the armistice finally dies, peace efforts as empty as old Washington’s senate, he felt lonesome without his friend, he needed the company of ghosts, of old memories to surface.
“Somebody get me Emile Cazeau and a map of New Rome” The Colonel was the hub of communications with several correspondences all happening at once as per usual.
He dreaded to see any sort of Geography since America fell, all these new provinces were no more than castles in the sand, forgeries or bad copies of great originals. Maybe that was the problem, this was a Newer World and he was really no better than a 21st Century John Smith.
A map was taken off the wall, being forty inches wide some corners overlapped the table, King’s subordinates tried mugs and one telegram machine to press it down, the doctor’s heart sank even further as the fantastic forgery of New Rome replaced the town and the cities he was taught at school.
Sacramento, the place of wine and fire was now Constantine
Los Angeles, a place of Conflict and cinema was now Charlemagne
San Diego was now Lavinia and so, on and so on.
It was surely a strong will that made Glenn Wyatt accept how things were and not how they were once. Jeremiah had realized that it wasn’t just the Civil War that made the medic run away but the irrecoverable transformation of the United States.
Even looking at the inevitability of Texas as a Republic was inconceivable even after 22 years of independence, King still grappled with it, he grappled with all of it!
But at least some state lines stayed the same…
“Blythe is three hours east, Charlemagne is directly West, if they have enough fire-power they can slingshot to where we are here in Sacra- I mean Constantine.” He faltered in the ill fit he had always felt in a place that was no longer California.
If he really wanted to upset himself all he had to do was think about it in the terms of what Wyatt fought for, it was a Sanctuary state, the last port of call for Amnesty and justice for those under Antioch’s lash.
A creak of wood and iron hailed the Haitian’s arrival, his face was stone and determined just like Jeremiah always remembered him, even as a scrawny Private.
“Colonel Franklin-King, it’s been a long time, any word on the Child Soldier?” Emile saluted him then waited to shake his hand.
“Safe, temporarily as she’s uncovered the ruse and is most likely on her way back, she says a drone invasion is hours away” After the etiquette and pleasantries King went straight to business by ushering the islander to take a look at the map.
By now the tacticians had drawn in red ink a path from the plains of NRT towards Blythe and looped both Charlemagne and Constantine, from a glance it looked like an odd weather map with the expected points of attack looking like air pressure waves.
“What do you need me to do?” Emile affirmed sternly as he stood to attention
“Up and down the West Coast are sirens, they were there for the War of the Last Century, they were there for Tsunami threats after the last earthquake in San Francisco – Hadrian is it now?” The formerly retired Doctor tried to keep his dignity, he felt aged much like old China – grand in it’s place but rarely in use. In a world such as the one he was in; he didn’t feel particularly useful
But he couldn’t tell them that.
“Yes, Hadrian and Brianne and Lavinia seem all to be in and around ground zero” Cazeau demonstrated quietly.
“Deploy your troops Lieutenant, ready the people, raise the alarm, highest priority” King ordered sullenly.
“Colonel, am I right in thinking Operation: Jehovah’s Bow is underway, as we speak?” The Haitian’s resolve fell away slightly as this was Wyatt’s nightmare finally becoming a reality.
The fifty-six-year old man darted eyes around then stepped forward and placed a hand of his shoulder.
“Yes, son and yes, Christobelle is still out there but so are thousands of others – Switch on the sirens Cazeau” King softly commanded.
“Yes, Sir” The soldier rushed into action, maybe it was a good thing he didn’t know how much time they really had, he saluted then raced out of the door.
✽ ✽ ✽
Depending on the circumstance and the perspective he had at the time, Jonah Murrow had a bad habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was more instrumental than anything that was a complete disaster, he had only been back in New Rome for a week and relished the more droll, run-of-the-mill duties. He noticed cadets that should have found their own place and purpose were quickly becoming his shadows.
Aaron Ross in particular was showing an unwavering type of fealty, the type meant in brotherhood or oath, even love.
The latter was a Chinese Puzzle for sure for as with every soul came the question, am I attractive? It was an awkward question for the self, regardless of their age or gender of their admirer.
Jonah would see the tiniest hues of joy in Aaron’s eyes whenever he would talk to him or had a task set for him, he knew it was beyond gratitude now.
Cupid shot off his bow at poor Aaron somewhere between Antioch and Free Nation and Jonah didn’t know what to do about it. He was distracted by the coming of war, it settled and stayed around all of them like a bad smell ever since they left Paramo two weeks before.
The Captain set the lad with supply runs and the odd Driver duty while showing the new freedoms to the Cadets that came to New Rome with them. Underestimating such a powerful gift only raised the teen’s regard for his rescuer, which begged another question…
Was he so green in social situations, did the life as a soldier turn him into a chess piece without Jonah knowing about it?
“I hear you’re given leave passes; your time is your own – never dreamt of anything like that” Aaron remarked softly as once again they crossed paths with one another as he returned from filing his duty log for the day.
“So strange to me, normal everyday things are seen as luxuries to you, the world you left was an unscrupulous one, New Rome won’t be as cruel I promise you – We are strict, in our own way, you’ll find your feet in the end, Cadet”
Jonah nodded as he tried to be distant and authoritarian in his poise.
The hazy dream state that lay behind the boy’s brown eyes told The Captain that the Greek Cherub was causing mischief again.
He coughed and cleared his throat and hurried stood to salute,Aaron reluctantly did the same, a loud echo of a French accent thundered across the hall calling the Captain’s name.
“Murrow! Activate Evacuation protocols NOW!” He roared over a stairwell
“Lieutenant Colonel Cazeau?” Jonah squinted in confusion then alarm.
The Haitian hopped down the marble steps and grabbed his soldier by the arm.
“The Ark is opening, lightning and fire is on it’s way to New Rome, Constantine and possibly Charlemagne too. Ready the people, get as many to the stadiums and churches, anywhere concrete, underground- Even a Church if it makes them feel better” The islander ordered with a harsh retort.
“Churches? Sir this is New Rome- Not everyone is Christian, reason why it was called New Rome, for all their faults they respected the pantheon” The Captain whispered, horrified in the news he startled to ramble about the facts of diversity and the cornerstone of New Roman life.
“Noted Captain, wherever the people, all the people will feel safest is where they will stay, observe any objections to the evacuation order”
The Officer then left and shot out of the exit without any word.
The soldier didn’t notice a cadet learning the signs of serious trouble and the idea of losing friends and a place of belonging was something he found quickly devastating.
Aaron worried he would lose his idol in the crowd, that he would be left stranded and without hope and be like all the panicked people in the city. The Warrant Officer didn’t of course, for he was first and foremost a soldier and to his last breath he would continue to be a soldier.
“Aaron, grab whatever cadet you know that has duties here and take them to the basement below, stay close to the cellar doors or any emergency exit you find – Go!”
The Captain patted then lightly pushed the teen away, Aaron felt like he was losing a life jacket and he felt like a child about to get lost.
“Go!” Murrow commanded
Aaron’s startled voice was drowned out by the loud screech of a microphone and a female voice giving out very stark instructions. Jonah Murrow was helpless to stop the wave of fear that rushed over the entire area as the people listened to the public announcement.
“Attention, this is an emergency broadcast, all citizens are ordered to find designated shelter immediately. All citizens to evacuate and take shelter effective immediately” The Speaker echoed across the rotunda and out into the city.
Chaos swiftly ensued, somehow the human swarm still managed to find direction, towards basements and wine cellars and fall-out shelters made after the last big Earthquake.
Jonah tried to be patient with the stricken public for nobody really knew how much danger they were really in. The fact the sirens were being considered at all was a frightening prospect for even a seasoned soldier like himself.
When he jostled down the steps, he found the Commander bashing at the jeep’s horn as the barrage of people became wider and wider. There was no panic as yet but there soon would be as the fear and the well-being of fifteen thousand people would be in the hands of one platoon.
The car rattled on towards the heart of an angel, a place known once as the City of Angels. Nobody could really remember why it was called that, Antioch always found it to be an ironic joke.
Driving down 6th street was always rather precarious as this was where San Andreas left the last calling card, some windows were still smashed in, asphalt and concrete were still cracked like broken eggs. The Convention center, the architecturally harsh hub of sports and concerts lay in ruin.
