Alea Jacta Est: A Novel of the Fall of America (Future History of America Book 1) (69 page)

A heartbeat
later, Erik heard a high faint whistle grow louder before it disappeared.  A
sudden splash and explosion of water to starboard, exactly in their previous
path.  It nearly made him jump out of his skin.

"They
shot
at us!"  Erik dove for the dropped radio and wiped the water from his face
as the spray from the warning shot rained down on their little boat. 
"Hold your fire!  National Guard,
hold your fire!
  This is sailing
vessel
Tarpon Whistler
, out of Sarasota.  We're coming ashore, we're
coming ashore!"

"
Wise
decision
, Tarpon Whistler."  The voice sounded even more familiar.

"Captain
Williams?" asked Erik on a hunch.  To Ted he said, "I think that's
him, man, from the gate the other day?"  There was a pause on the other
end of the conversation.  Ted could see through the binoculars the speaker
conversing with other soldiers, acting quite animated.

"That
stirred 'em up," grinned Ted.

"
Who
is this?
" asked the voice.  "
How do you know me?
"

"Captain,
this is Erik Larsson, from the Freehold—I mean, Colonial Gardens.  Over on Bee
Ridge?   You stopped by..."

"
Mr.
Larsson, what the hell are
you
doing out there?
" the voice
sounded relieved and irritated at the same time.

"Well,
we
were
fishing before we had to do some evasive maneuvers."

"
Sorry
about that...the men are still a little keyed up from the fight
. 
But
you
are
in violation of the curfew
."

The
Tarpon
Whistler
was nearly within hailing distance from the shore before anyone
spoke again.  When the little daysailer was about 30 feet out, Ted turned her
into the wind and Erik dropped anchor with a small splash.  The small boat did
not require anything more than about 15 pounds to hold it still in the water.

"Bring
it on in, sir," one of the soldiers said.  The black trooper held his M-4
in a sling over his right shoulder and was waving with his left hand.   His
helmet looked a little too big for his head.  Erik noticed the weapon wasn't
pointed at them, at least.  That was a good sign.  There were three others, all
watching with hooded expressions.  All fully armed with rifles.

"Sorry,
but this things got a keel that sticks down about three feet.  This is as close
to shore as I get without a dock," Erik called back.  It was a lie and he
knew it, but he also didn't want to get trapped on shore.  Ted, for his part,
said nothing and merely watched.  They were both playing things by ear.

"It's
alright, sergeant, I'll handle this.  Go help Lieutenant Walsh with the
prisoner transfer," said Captain Jonas Williams as he walked up to the
beach from the command center over the first dune.

"Yes,
sir," snapped the soldier.  He saluted and moved off towards the tree
line.  "You three, with me.  Let's go round up some trash."  The
three other soldiers moved off without comment.  In a moment, Captain Williams
was alone on his particular stretch of the beach with Ted and Erik.

Erik stood
on the bow and held onto some rigging.  "Haven't seen you and your men in
about a week now...how are you all doing?  I take it you won?" Erik asked,
motioning with a free hand to include the cluttered beach.  The smell was
incredible.

Captain
Williams put his hands on his hips and pushed his helmet up on his forehead a
little to let the cool morning air calm his skin.  "Yeah, CO had my men
tooling up with Delta Company in prep for taking out the hostile band that was
gutting Sarasota.  Looks like they were an offshoot of those 'Brotherhood' guys
up near Tampa.  Sick bastards, too," he said and motioned to the bodies
stacked up like cordwood further north on the beach.  "There's practically
a whole neighborhood in there."

 "White
Hand People?" asked Ted, who showed almost no outward concern for the
hundreds of people who had been killed. 

Innocent
families wiped out and God knows what done to them
, Erik thought with
horror.

"The
same," nodded Captain Williams.  "They mark up every building or
house they go into, paint it on cars, hell some of 'em even have the white hand
painted on their chests.  Freaky."  He scanned the smoking ruined beach
and all the debris and rotting bodies.  A whole new batch had been added to the
pile just hours earlier.  It seemed a shame to lump the bad guys in with the
dead civilians but Erik supposed they didn't have the manpower or the time to worry
about niceties.

"Helluva
mess your men made here, Captain.  It does this Marine good to see some
indiscriminate justice heaped on the bad guys," called out Ted.

Captain
Williams flashed a lopsided grin.  "Yeah, well, we taught these assholes a
lesson.  Rest of my men are headed south chasing the remnants down the coast. 
Should have 'em all wrapped up today."  He glanced up at the brightening
sky.

"Any
casualties?" asked Ted softly.

Another
trooper huffed it over a sand dune and presented an olive drab pouch to the
Captain.  He saluted and moved off, poking through the bodies looking for
wounded.  Erik was surprised to see it was a woman.  She wore a red-cross arm
band.  It was a sobering moment.

Captain
Williams looked at the bag he held in both hands.  "A few wounded.  Three
killed, including the CO.  That's why I'm
here
instead of with my
men."  He looked at the sky again, as if searching for something. 
"They got through our lines and surprised us.  We were going to hit them
at first light but somehow they got the drop on us."  He shook his head. 
Erik saw the crease in the side of the helmet cover that marked where a bullet
had tried to find the Captain's head.

"They
were pretty well armed, then?" asked Ted respectfully.

"Surprisingly,
yes.  Mostly handguns, but there were enough of 'em with AKs or carbines and
the know-how to use 'em right that gave us a few hairy moments at first.  After
we caught on, it was all over."  He glanced up at the sky again, looking.       

That motion
reminded Erik of something.  "Did you see those planes last night?"
he asked.

“Yeah." 
The Captain shook his head sadly.  "Cryin' shame.  Never thought to see
that..." he mumbled.

Erik and
Ted shared a look.  "Ours?" asked Ted hopefully.

"You
haven't heard?" asked Captain Williams after his head snapped up in
surprise.  A look of shock crossed his face.  "How long you been at sea? 
Nevermind,"  he waved off the reply.  "No, they weren't ours."

"You're
shitting me!" exclaimed Ted.  "How—"

"They're
what's left of the U.N.'s first wave.  Headed for safety in Cuba, I
guess."

"
What's
left?
  That was a
lot
of planes we saw last night!" sputtered
Erik.

"The
first
wave?  They already started the invasion!?" exclaimed Ted, suddenly very
anxious to get back to his family.

Captain
Williams shook his head sadly.  "I'm not supposed to be spreading this
around...but you guys are running that apartment complex, so you're classified
as 'Local Leader' as far as I'm concerned.  Anyway, from what I can gather—mind
you, I'm pretty low on the totem pole right now," he shook his head
again.  "The Eurotrash were able to trick us by sending their assault
troops in jetliners, pretending to be our soldiers.  Someone put the word out
that they were friendly.  Someone on
our
side."

"Holy
shit...." muttered Erik.

"Yeah,"
said the Guardsman.  "Someone's feeding intel to the enemy..." he let
that thought trail off.  "Those bastards paid for it though.  Heard up
north the flyboys shot down most of the inbounds before Russian bombers crossed
Canadian airspace to draw 'em off.  They hit damn near the whole seaboard:
Boston, New York, Philly, D.C.  Savannah and Jacksonville got it last night
just before sunset.  The planes you saw last night were their rides.  A lot of
'em didn't make it, but they still dropped hundreds, maybe thousands of
paratroopers at each city.  We lost all contact with Jacksonville about an hour
ago," he said sadly. 

"The
first wave," Ted said quietly.  He nodded to himself.  "Recon,
secure, expand."  He glanced at Erik.  "There'll be more.  A lot
more.  They're following the book so far.  Same thing we did in the
sandbox."

"That's
my thinking, too," said Captain Williams with a nod of respect for Ted's
assessment of the situation.

"I
don't believe it," said Erik.  His mind was in free-fall, trying to think
of what it was like in the occupied cities. 
How could this happen?  This is
America!

"I
heard in some of the bigger ones like New York and Philly, they even landed
safely
. 
Can you believe
that? 
People on the ground were cheering." 
Captain Williams shook his head again.  "I just don't understand it."

"Have
you heard anything about the west coast?  California?" Erik asked, hoping
for something he could take back to Brin.  Her family was still out there.  He
hoped.

"Sorry...I
haven't gotten anything west of the Appalachians."

"This
is unreal..." said Erik.

"Roger
that," replied Captain Williams.  "Gentlemen, the shit has officially
hit the fan.  We haven't seen anything around here other than the gangs and
rioting.  Not until these White Hand People showed up.   But I know
Jacksonville and probably Miami by now got enemy airborne on the ground." 
He swung the satchel around his head and launched it over the calm water of the
Gulf.  Erik caught it with a grunt. 

Erik looked
at the well worn satchel.  "Nice throw.  What's this?" he asked and
passed the bag to Ted.

"A
lil' gift to repay the kindness y'all showed me and my men the other day. 
Yours was the only place we didn't get yelled at...or worse, that whole day. 
Made a big impression on the men.  We lost a corporal the next day.  Drove into
a neighborhood and before we could even say hello, some asshole popped off a
round and took out MacKenzie."  The man looked furuious.  "Our own
damn citizens were attacking us.  The gangs attack us.  Now the U.N. is
attacking us."  He shrugged and seemed to resign himself to his fate. 

"Anyway,
there's a short-range radio in there, some MREs, nothing much.  You can reach
me on the frequency it's set to if you're in range.  We're moving out soon so I
doubt you'll be able to catch me but you never know."

"Where
to?" asked Ted.

Captain
Williams thought about it for a second.  Finally he decided to speak up.  He
shrugged again, as if to say,
What the hell does it matter, anyway?

"Miami
is my guess.  Orlando-Tampa seems to be the dividing line. All units south are
redirecting to Miami to stop the foreigners down there.  I guess they got
enough manpower further north to deal with Jacksonville for the time being. 
We're getting stretched thin, though.  If rioting gets out of hand in
Tampa..."  Captain Williams shrugged.  "Hell of a mess."

Ted
recognized the man's fatigue.  "How long?" he asked with a knowing
look.  It was clear the soldier had been up more than 24 hours.

"Three
days now...I think.  Long stretch rounding up as many people as possible to
relocate, then chase these assholes," he said with a casual wave of a
gloved hand at the fresh bodies.  "Only to get surprised in the middle of
the night by a buncha juiced up crackheads with AKs."  He shook his head. 
"Well, I gotta get the men ready to hit the road to catch the convoy
south."

"Here's
hoping you can catch some sleep, Captain," Ted said solemnly.

Captain
William's eyes had a haunted look about them.  "Thanks, I hope so
too."  He stifled a yawn.  "Be on the lookout for the good guys,
y'hear?  Some of the Regulars were flying in and got mixed up with the
invasion."  He shook his helmeted head again.  "Freakin' chaos, I
swear."

"I
hope you and your men make it back to your families, soon," said Erik
sincerely.  "I think we're all going to be in for a rough ride and your
place is by their side."

The Captain
nodded.  "Thank you."  He squared his shoulders, no longer Jonas
Williams, but The Captain.  "Now you get on back to
your
families
or at least try to get the hell out of Dodge," he waved them off. 
"Good luck, gentlemen.  There's dark days ahead for us all."

Erik was
already weighing anchor.  Ted called out to the retreating form of the soldier,
"Hey, what about McDill?  Why didn't they shoot down those transports we
saw?"

"Don't
know," replied Captain Williams.  He waved again, "Keep your head
down, Marine!"

"Keep
your powder dry, soldier!" replied Ted.  He began to dig through the
satchel.   "Some good...
sort-of
food in here, man.  I can't believe
how hungry I am...MREs are actually lookin' tasty. 
Damn
."

They sailed
south in silence, seeing not a single other soul for nearly two hours along the
beach.  Ted would later recall it to be the longest few hours of his life. 
Both men wanted desperately to be back with their families, to protect them
from the shadow threat made suddenly real in the early morning light.  The
invasion they had speculated on and debated and worried over was finally here. 
America had foreign troops on her soil for the first time since the War of
1812.  Erik felt dirty, violated.