Alea Jacta Est: A Novel of the Fall of America (Future History of America Book 1) (21 page)

Outside, on
the other side of the ten foot privacy wall, watching Stan enter Colonial
Garden from the upper branches of an oak tree, the taller escaped convict clung
to a branch.  He pushed the Spanish Moss out of his face and grinned.  His
fellow escapee, climbing up the next tree over, looked up and said, “Well, what
is it?  Where’d he go?”

“Jackpot,
baby…Jackpot!” whispered the larger man as he climbed down from the tree into
the apartment complex.  He watched a lithe young woman  stroll through a
parking lot on the other side of the wall.  “Couple ‘a honeys over there too. 
It’s party time tonight, baby!”

J
ED LEWIS, REGULATOR, sat in his perch in
the rocky hills west of Nogales.  He was on duty again for the dawn watch.  He
pulled the old denim coat tighter around his chest, cherishing the precious
warmth it provided in the cold desert night.  The wind was out of the northwest
this morning, towards his back, so he had pulled himself into a crevice formed
by a boulder that leaned against a rather large slab of limestone.  It made a
convenient hiding place from which he could scan the border and protect himself
from the elements.  He hoped the other Regulators on duty this morning found
similar protection from the chill wind.

Jed thought it remarkable how fast
things had changed since that fateful Tuesday when the power had gone out and
the riots had started.  It was amazing to think how fast things declined.  He
was still trying to block out the memories of the day after they lost power, the
day of the fight where the Regulators killed about 20 illegal Mexican
immigrants.  Rob had said it was an invasion, an act of war just when America
was at its weakest.  Jed wasn’t so convinced.  He thought it wrong that people
try to take advantage of America’s open society, but he balked at shooting
unarmed people.  He had been one of the men who had aimed at the ground in
front of the Mexicans that day.  There had been plenty other Regulators up to
the task of slaying the unarmed.

Jed was one of the men who remained
loyal to Rob and Lance, the unofficial leaders of the Regulators.  Only a few
men sided with John Sellson when he left, so it wasn’t much of a breakup of
power.  But of those that remained true, there was a sharp division—those who
thought it necessary to do anything and everything to protect the nation and
those, like Jed, who believed that was all well and good as long as they didn’t
go shooting unarmed people.  Stop them from crossing the border yes, slaughter
them, no.

Before leaving Rob’s ranch—the equally
unofficial headquarters now—Jed had listened in on the shortwave radio and
learned of the race riots and the Battle of Chicago and fighting in New York. 
He heard about the media blackout imposed by Washington—that hadn’t gone over well
with the Regulators—and of the President’s assurances that the government was
still very much in charge and order would be restored soon. 

Rumors came in to Nogales from Tucson of
the rioting and fighting going on between Latinos and Blacks proclaiming
allegiance to the Brotherhood.  Things were very unsettled at the moment.

By far, the worst news the Regulators
had received was about the growing conflagration in the western states.  All of
a sudden, in an eerie coincidence, it was being reported that several large
forest fires were consuming acres and acres of land, trees and everything in
between, from just outside L.A., up to Idaho, southern Montana, Wyoming,
Colorado and Arizona.  Most of the Regulators were quick to surmise that
terrorists had started the fires. 

Anyone who listened to the reports, then
looked at maps could see all the fires were centered around major interstates
running through the affected regions.  But there was no official confirmation
from either the states or Washington, so people just guessed and hoped the
winds held, keeping the fires away.  The fires were definitely getting close—just
that evening, word came in that there was smoke and flames moving to the west
from the Coronado National Forest on the east side of Nogales.  The community
was sleeping on pins and needles that night.  Jed, on watch, wasn’t sleeping at
all.

He picked up the surplus Russian night
vision goggles that Lance had lent out to the night watchmen.  They weren’t
state of the art by any means, but they were a far sight better than unaided
eyes for scanning the darkness of the borderlands.  Putting the unit over his
head and adjusting his hat to keep him warm, Jed clumsily sought out the power
switch with his work glove protected hands.

With a click, his world erupted into
shades of greens and whites.  The view through the goggles cleared up and he
slowly scanned his surroundings, looking at his hands, legs, gear and pack, his
little cave, the ridge beyond.  Everything was magnified in the ambient light of
the half moon as it drifted through high, thin clouds in the ink black sky. 

Movement to the south of his position
caught his eye—he adjusted the focus and held his breath to prevent the picture
from blurring. 

“Whew, just a coyote.”  Jed sighed and
relaxed.  All quiet on the southern front.  He was just about to pick up his
water bottle and remove the goggles for another ten minutes when a small white
spot blinked on the edge of his vision.  Turning just enough to see what had
caught his attention, the white spot came back, clearer.  It moved amorphously,
appearing, then disappearing.

“One, this is Watchtower…” he called
out.

“
Go ahead, Jed…”
was the
static-filled reply.

“
No names!”
someone else hissed
over the ‘net.

“
Watchtower, you see that light?”
asked the chastised first voice after a pause to curse off-net.

Jed blindly reached for his radio,
keeping his eyes on the mysterious light cluster to the south.  “Yeah…I got
‘em.  That’s what I was calling to report.  Got some lights, moving…through the
hills to the south of my position.  Coming north.”

“
I see one…
” was the quick
reply.  “
Am I seeing things or
…?”

“No…definitely not.  I see…” Jed
squinted behind the goggles, counting shifting lights.  “I count five…no,
six
.” 
They were bobbing in pairs. 

What the hell?
  “Looks like they’re moving in pairs. 
Can’t tell direction—“

“
Hey, the one I see just stopped
,”
crackled the radio.

“
I just saw movement behind the first
six
…” 

“
There’s movement on foot…I can see
‘em in my scope
,” replied the other voice.

“I see another pair.  They’re cars!  I
got at least three cars in front of me to the south, estimate half a mile—relay
that to base!”

“
I’m on it…standby one
,” was the
terse reply of the radio coordinator.  That night it was one of the Franks
brothers, Ed, who sat in a truck well behind the Ridge where the lookouts were
posted.  The little 2-way Wal-Mart radios were good for a few miles, but to
reach the Gunn Ranch, they needed the 2 meter HAM rig in Ed’s Ford F-150,
normally used for ranch work.

“Everyone keep your flashlights off…”
said Jed.  “They’ll spot us if we light anything…”  As the headlights moved
closer, Jed could begin to pick out individual shapes accompanying the slow
moving vehicles.  “Whoa, we got tangos on foot, repeat, movement on foot with
the cars.”

Ed’s deep voice came over the radios all
the watchmen carried.  “
Just sit tight, folks.  Rob’s called out the posse,
we’ll have everyone on line in about fifteen minutes.
”

Jed cursed.  They were going to have to
get better at getting the Regulators together.  Fifteen minutes was fast…
before
. 
Now, he estimated that fifteen minutes would barely get the combined Regulators
on scene before the unknown cars and people showed up on their doorstep.             

After what seemed an eternity, Rob Gunn
stopped his truck next to Ed’s and stepped out into the kicked up dust.  He had
his old Winchester in one hand and his field pack in the other.  In it, like
the other Rangers, he held spare ammo, both for his rifle and sidearm, food,
water, first aid and other emergency gear, plus his radio and weather gear.  He
touched the brim of his Stetson with the barrel of the lever action rifle in
salute as he passed Ed’s truck.  Inside, illuminated by the dome light, Ed
nodded and pointed up the ridge where Jed was located.

A stiff climb through the sage brush and
rocks found Rob creeping up next to Jed, still with the goggles on and watching
the Mexicans in the moonlit darkness.  They were now only a few hundred yards
away and he could clearly make out five vehicles by their headlights; three
beat up cars and two old trucks, plus a motorcycle.  On foot, he counted nearly
fifty men.  This time he could see no women.  As they got closer, he could
easily point out the long dark shapes held by the men.

“They’re armed this time, Rob,” Jed
whispered as his friend and leader crouched down and peered to the south.  Jed
left the question as to whether or not they would be armed if the Regulators
hadn't shot that last group wisely unsaid.

“Numbers?” asked Rob, still seeing only
the headlights, moving in a line abreast.  The noise of the engines was faintly
audible when the wind shifted or died down.

“I count five vehicles, a motorcycle and
about fifty on foot.”

Rob rubbed his eyes.  “Damn.” 
We’re
not going to get out of this one as easy as before.

Jed took off the goggles and handed them
to Rob to get a lay of Mexicans.  As he did so, Lance appeared on the other
side of Jed’s little station, said his greetings and crouched down next to
Jed.  He had brought his own pack, hunting rifle and his two old double-action
Smith and Wesson revolvers, strapped to his waist in holsters.

Rob had seen enough and handed the
goggles back to Jed.  “Looks like they’re serious.  Lotta guns down there,
Lance.”

“Hit ‘em hard, surprise ‘em, then
retreat by teams back to the ravine up the road to the north?” asked Lance,
surmising the situation in seconds.  That was the main reason the men had
selected Lance and Rob as co-leaders by consent—they could see the best options
and made quick, well reasoned decisions.

“That’s what I was thinking,” said Rob,
eyes scanning the darkness.  It would be light in another hour or so.  By then,
he and the Regulators would be about a mile to the north, entrenched at a
ravine where the only serviceable road for miles had to cross.  If those cars
were anything short of 4x4 off-road vehicles, they’d be funneled by the
landscape up the dirt road to the ravine.  A perfect choke point.  From there,
if needed, the Regulators could fall back even further, moving up the hills and
making the Mexicans pay for every step they took inside America.

“Sounds good to me,” offered Jed,
putting the night vision goggles back on his head.  The Mexicans looked closer
than he would have imagined in the brief time Rob had the goggles.  “They’re
gonna be right on top of us in a few minutes, Rob.”

“You’re not going to do anything about
it, Jed.  We need you up here, not shooting but
looking
.  We’re all
blind until sun-up.  That’s still a couple hours away,” he said, glancing
towards the east.  There was just a hint of a lighter shade of dark indigo. 

“You’re going to have to give us
positions and tell us where to shoot.  Think you can handle it?” asked Rob, seriously. 
They needed someone with nerves of steel for this because things were likely to
get pretty dicey soon.

Jed swallowed.  His qualms about
shooting unarmed people vanished.  These Mexicans were obviously here to cause
trouble and hurt someone, if the number of armed men was any indication.  “You
got it, Rob.”

“Okay, here’s the layout,” said Rob,
explaining where the teams were going to be positioned.

Rob and Lance and considered the
situation on the way up from the Ranch, talking through CB from their
respective trucks.  They had decided to follow the same plan they had a few
days ago.  They would have the teams spread out on the ridge in groups of two,
in a rough U shape to draw the Mexicans in and surround them on three sides,
putting up a crossfire.  Then the tips of the U would fall back to positions
behind the ridge, covering the rest of the teams who would melt away in front
of the Mexicans, if needed, making another skirmish line further to the north. 
In this fashion they would leapfrog up the dirt road cut through the
surrounding ridges and work their way to the ravine.  Once at the ravine,
they’d set up another ambush and finish off the invaders.  Assuming everything
went as planned.

Rob and Lance carefully crawled back
down the ravine to the center of the U, their standard position.  Rob clicked
on his 2-way radio to check in with the other teams.  All 26 Regulators checked
in okay and in position.

“Outnumbered 2 to 1, man,” said Lance in
the darkness to Rob’s right, hidden behind a rock formation.

“Yep.”

“But we got the element of surprise…”
Lance whispered.

“Yep.”

In the darkness, Lance nodded.  That was
all the pep-talk he needed.

Both their radios, indeed all the
Regulators’ radios clicked in unison.  “
Overwatch to teams, illegals inbound
at about a hundred yards
.”

No one replied.   Rob had ordered strict
radio silence except for Overwatch, to avoid cluttering the channel and getting
mixed signals.  On a night like this, that could get them killed. Everyone knew
if they were wounded or cut off from the group to hole up and wait for sunrise,
then try to regroup after the fight.  In the dark, anyone could be mistaken for
an enemy.