Alea Jacta Est: A Novel of the Fall of America (Future History of America Book 1) (30 page)

 “Next, I want
volunteers to help patrol the complex tonight,” before the gasps could turn
into dissent, Erik continued, “Look, we’re not expecting trouble tonight, but
we have to be ready.  First thing tomorrow, after we have our…uh…executive
meeting…we’re going to start work on building defenses and getting this place
set to repel anyone we don’t want to get in.  Okay?”

“What, are
you gonna raise an army, now?” asked Henry, scowling from the safety of the
rear of the crowd. 

“No, we’re
not going to raise an
army
.  We’re going to prepare to defend ourselves
against attacks from those who would do us and our families harm.  If we make
this place look like a place you don’t want to mess with, they—whoever they are—will
leave us alone.  But if someone—more convicts, say, does get over the walls, we
need to be ready.  I will
not
be killed by some bank robber who wants a
can of tuna!”

More
approval and nodding of heads, with only a few disgruntled looks.  The crowd
began to break up.  A handful of men stayed behind after kissing wives and
children goodnight.  They were nervous, but determined to make the apartment
complex safer for their families.  They gathered around Erik, waiting for
orders.  It was growing late and the storm was getting closer.  The breeze had
become a slight wind, and there was a hint of moisture to come.

Erik
slipped his arm around Brin as more thunder rumbled by overhead.  Off to the
east the reflected lightning lit up the low, heavy clouds miles away.  It would
be a gulley-washer tonight.  Erik was terrified that he was getting in over his
head as he looked into the eyes of the volunteers.  Most were older than him.

God, give
me the strength to do what’s right…

HAKIM AND SALDID sat
inside the captured Chevy Suburban and watched the smoke rise against the
growing light from the eastern horizon.  In another half hour, headlights would
be unnecessary.

“Ah, the
Holy Firestorm grows…it is beautiful, is it not?” asked Saldid.

Hakim
smiled.  “Yes…to know that those infidels are burning in Allah’s fires.  It
warms my soul to think that Los Angeles will soon be swallowed by the fire.” 
Hakim had long ago associated Hollywood with the root of the evil that spewed
forth from America, infecting the children of the rest of the world with its
glamour and lies.  Los Angeles, San Francisco, Hollywood…they would all burn.

Saldid
looked down at the gas gauge.  “My friend, we are only having half a tank of
gas…I think we should head into town,” he said, licking his lips with
anticipation.  “Maybe we can find a girl…a young one this time…?”

Hakim
grimaced. 
This fascination of yours is getting out of hand.
  Out loud
he said, “I think it would be best to skirt the outside of Nogales before
heading across the border.”

“Perhaps we
should call our ‘friend’ and ask for a little more time.  The border may be
guarded…” said Saldid hopefully.  Hakim was almost inclined to agree.  Shooting
and ambushing families fleeing for their lives was one thing, but going up
against armed and trained American Border Patrol agents was quite another.

No.  We
have our orders.
Hakim shook his head..  “We cannot risk the
call—he can only protect our transmissions for so long.  I am worried the
Americans will try to trace us.  After all, there cannot be that many satellite
phones in use right now.”  Hakim glanced out the window and nervously looked at
the sky.  “They may be watching us right now…”

“But
everyone
in this country has cell phones…”

“Yes, and
with the power out, they do not work, nor do the regular phones.  How hard do
you think it will be to trace the handful of satellite phones being used at any
given point?”

“I see…”
said Saldid.  Clearly he did not.  Modern technology was totally alien to him. 
He knew death, rape, and Allah.  That was all.

UH OH…AND who exactly
are you?” mumbled Jed Lewis.  He was on dawn watch again.  He scratched the
stubble on his chin and tried to remember how many days, exactly it had been
since The Troubles. 

Four days,
five days, it doesn’t matter anymore.  Wake up and pay attention!
  He and
Bill were driving his Jeep towards their border position when Jed spotted the
headlights off to the east a little.  Someone stopped a big truck of some sort
there on the rise and was just sitting there, facing east towards Nogales. 

Bill Warren
sat in the passenger seat and checked his AR-15, careful not to spill his
coffee as the Jeep hit a hole.  “They one of ours?”

“Let’s find
out,” said Jed. He picked up the CB and pressed the transmit button.  “Rover to
base, Rover to base…”

A few
seconds later the static-laced reply came back, “
Base to Rover, go ahead
.”

“Anyone
else scheduled to be out on the old access road?” Jed asked, slowing down as
his dirt path crossed the gravel road that the mystery vehicle occupied.  It
was about a hundred yards directly to his left.  He slowed to a stop.

After a
short delay, the CB chirped again, “
Negative, Rover, you’re it.  Why?  You
got company?
”

“Yeah,
we’re just crossing the old access road now, headin’ towards the Ridge.  ‘Bout
a hundred yards east, on the hill overlookin’ town.”

“
Alright…I’m
gonna send—
“ a pause as Lance reached for the duty roster.  Jed could hear
some rustling papers.   “
I’ll send the Franks boys out to meet you, then you
can check it out.  Find a spot off the road and just watch ‘em.  You got that? 
Watch them, nothing else.  No cowboy shit, Rover
. 
Out
.”

“Copy
that…Rover out,” said Jed.  “Well, what do you think?” asked Jed, replacing the
CB on his dashboard mount.

“Uh, about
what?  We’re just supposed to wait, how hard is that?” replied Bill, taking a
sip from his coffee.

Jed 
thought for a second.  “You know, I never got any action the night of the
Battle at the Ridge.  I just got to sit there and watch.”

“You don’t
want to be wishing for any of that, man,” said Bill quietly.  He had been on
the front lines and had seen the Regulators on either side of him shot and
killed.  Both good friends for years.  Dead.  In a heartbeat.  The scene
flashed before his eyes again, for the ump-teenth time since that dreadful
night. 

“
Screw
it.  Let’s
check it out.”

“What?”
asked Bill, shaken from his waking nightmare by Jed putting the Jeep in drive
and turning left into a sagebrush.  “Wait a minute, Jed, we’re supposed to wait
for backup!”

“
The hell with
that,”
said Jed, pulling his rifle up from the seat between them.  “I want something
to do besides sit and watch!”

HAKIM, WE HAVE
company,” whispered Saldid.    

“What?”
asked Hakim, looking out the passenger window into the pre-dawn darkness.  “Why
are you whispering?  Did you see someone?” he asked.  He shielded his eyes from
the early dawn light and peered out the windshield.

“No, behind
us,” said Saldid, eyes drawn to the Suburban’s rear-view mirror where a flash
of headlights betrayed the Regulators.  “They’re driving up behind us.”

“American
Border Patrol?” asked Hakim, checking to make sure his sawed off shotgun was
loaded.  He shot a glance out the window and looked at the side view mirror.

“I cannot
tell…all I see is lights.  Wait—they’re getting out!” said Saldid, anxiety
rising.  He checked the slide on his 9mm semi-auto and made sure there was a
round chambered.

Hakim
quickly unbuckled his seatbelt and clambered over his seat into the backseat. 
With a grunt, he got into place and gripped the rear passenger door handle,
shotgun at the ready. 

“I will
handle the one on this side.  Are you ready?” he whispered unnecessarily. 
Now
I’m doing it.
 

“Yes…Allah
protect us from these infidels!” replied Saldid from the driver’s seat.

JED, THIS ISN’T a good
idea…look, let’s just pull off before they spot us—“

“Too late,
look,” said Jed, as the mystery vehicle’s taillights flickered.  “Looks like
they just put it in park.”

Jed drove
up just behind the Suburban and slowed to a stop on the gravel.  The Jeep’s
headlights could see the bumper stickers on the rear of the big Chevy—“My child
is an honor roll student…”, “Jesus died for me…and YOU…”, and “Buy American…”

“
Well
, that’s
not a bunch of
illegals
…probably
just
people
trying to make it out of town before the fire gets there,” said Bill with
obvious relief.  He relaxed his grip on the AR-15.

“Damn.  Oh
well, we may as well check it out and tell the Ranch we don’t need backup,
right?”  Jed said, smiling as he opened his door.  He thought about his rifle,
but realized his pistol was on his hip and these were probably just locals
anyway.  No need to spook ‘em.  “Let’s go say good morning!”

“Alright,”
sighed Bill, also getting out.  “I’ll cover you from this side.”

Jed
adjusted the holster on his hip and swaggered up to the car. 
Time to play
helpful citizen soldier.

He casually
strolled the length of the Suburban, glancing in to the windows—
Tinted of
course.  Can’t see anything in there…

Reaching
the driver’s window, he put on his most helpful smile and tapped on the glass. 
It rolled down, revealing the face of a sweaty, dark haired man with a thick
mustache and slightly crooked teeth as he smiled back in the dim light from the
dashboard.  He wasn’t exactly the pert soccer mom that Jed had expected.  He
could see there was a bag or something on the front seat, but no passenger. 

“Howdy!”
Jed said, friendly enough.  “Car trouble?”

“Hi there!”
Saldid said in his slightly muddled accent.

Hakim saw
movement outside his door as the second American passed by on the way to the
front passenger side door.  He tensed, gripping the door handle even tighter
and slowly pulling it to release the lock.  Without an audible click, the door
was open, ready to swing.  Hakim took a breath and said a silent prayer.

“Now!” he
said, shoving open the door and slipping the double barreled shotgun in the
slot made by the door and the frame.  He unloaded both barrels right into the
American’s chest, blowing the infidel back and off the road into the rocky
ditch with a roar that echoed off the surrounding hills like thunder.       

THERE WAS ONLY a split
second for Jed to react.  He saw the dome light come on when the other door
opened, could see a man poised there with a gun—a big one, pointing right
towards Bill.  His hand immediately moved towards his pistol.  Before he could draw
it, the man in the driver’s seat had his own pistol up and pointed right at
Jed’s face.  Jed froze, ignoring the retort of the shotgun that just sent his
friend Bill off the road and into the darkness beyond the headlights.

They just
killed Bill!  Jesus Christ!  Oh, Jesus…Jesus, help me!
his
panicked mind screamed.

I WANT YOU to see the
face of
justice
, infidel,” Saldid said with a lecherous smile.  He put
the pistol’s barrel against the skin on the infidel’s forehead, right between
his eyes.  The American closed his eyes and began praying, knowing his death
was imminent.

“Saldid,
kill him already!  We must hurry before others arrive!” cursed Hakim in Arabic.

Saldid
spoke back in English over his shoulder without taking his eyes off the
infidenl.  “I want to make this one
special
, Hakim.  Give me a second.”

“Look at
me, infidel!” Saldid ordered.  The man opened his eyes calmly.  He was more calm
than ever before in his life.  He was ready for death and it showed on his
face.  Saldid was enraged—he wanted the American to cry and beg for his life,
showing the true cowardice that he believed lived in the hearts of all American
Infidels. 

“I want you
to know that the children of Allah will crush you!  I want you to beg for your
life, Infidel!”

The
American took a breath and focused on the hate filled face in the driver’s
seat.  He knew the terrorist would kill him soon.  That thought shook him.  He wondered
idly why terrorists would be along the border.
 
With a voice that was
steady as a rock, he spoke his last words.

“Some day,
someone just like me is gonna wipe all you
fuckers
from the face of the
Earth.”  He defiantly spat a glob of mucus in Saldid’s face.

As Hakim
heard the single shot that scattered the insolent infidel’s brains out into the
pre-dawn night, he rolled his eyes and raised his arms to Allah. 

Why have
You punished me with this fool?  He’s going to get us both killed one day.  I
could better serve You alone!

ALONG THE BORDER
between America and Mexico, Ed and George Franks raced across the old access
road, heading away from the Ranch towards Jed and Bill and the mystery
vehicle.  They had been trying over and over again to raise their fellow
Regulators on the CB to no avail.  Dawn was just cresting the top of the
horizon.

“It’ll be
light soon…we’ll have a better idea what we’re up against then,” said Ed over
the roar of the engine.  He dropped the pedal to the floor and crashed over a
small dune.

His
brother, George, said nothing.  He slammed a fresh magazine into his AR-15 and
chambered a round with his bandaged hand.

Ed swerved
the big truck through some loose gravel and onto the road where Jed and Bill
had reported in from.  “There!” he said, pointing the truck in the direction of
the vehicle at the top of the small hill.

“That ain’t
Jed’s Jeep.”

“I think
you’re right.”  Ed floored it again and the truck lurched forward, chewing up
the distance.  They could both tell something was amiss.  The driver side door
on the black SUV was open, as was a door on the passenger side.  The tailgate
was up and there was debris on the ground.  George checked his brother’s
weapon, an old AK-47. 

“Lock ‘n’
load, Ed.”

They slid
to a stop in a cloud of dust behind the abandoned Chevy Suburban and could see
the debris on the gravel more clearly under the big Ford’s headlights.  There
were all kinds of things scattered on the ground behind the still running
Chevy.  A few duffle bags, ripped open—women’s clothing and underwear half
pulled out.  Some papers and books strewn here and there, old shoes, a few
backpacks full of toys…