Alea Jacta Est: A Novel of the Fall of America (Future History of America Book 1) (84 page)

“Those
weren’t just explosions.  Fuckin’ missiles from offshore, hell maybe from orbit
or something,” Cooper said.  “We spotted at least one jet doing ground-attack
runs.  We lost comms just before we got here.”

Cooper
paused.  When he spoke next it was in a quiet voice.  “Walked into a damn trap
and lost half my men.”  He stared right at the SAC and added, “Last thing we
heard was Apache Dawn has been activated.”

The
agent paled, noticeable even in the dim, murky light.  “Oh my
God
.”  He
turned to his men.  “Apache Dawn is in effect!  We have to get Slipknot and
evacuate
now!
”  Turning back to Cooper, he said, “Follow me, I’ll get us
down to the basement.”  The agents kicked themselves into gear rushing to
collect what weapons and ammo they could find before gathering up their
wounded.

“
I
got our six
,” said Charlie.  “
Sparky, on me!
”

“Take
‘em out,” said Cooper to Agent Sheffield with a brief nod.  He backed up
against the wall as Agent Sheffield limped past.  The remaining agents and
SEALs followed closely queued-up behind Cooper.  Charlie and Sparky took up
trailing positions, walking backwards and scanning for threats from the rear.

It
only took a few minutes of winding through darkened, deserted hallways and
stepping over the bodies, busted-up equipment, and trash to make it to the
basement.  The North Koreans had really shot the hell out of the hospital. 
Cooper imagined the upper floors of the hospital must be crammed full of
terrified civvies: patients, family members, doctors, nurses, and staff.  He
didn’t like leaving them behind, but his mission was to secure the President at
all costs. 

Once
on the basement level, his advance guard was readily challenged by some
nervous-looking agents in tactical gear.  However, following recognition, the
hard-pressed agents’ faces were radiated relief.  Cooper was again very
impressed with the agents’ attention to detail – especially the expedient
redoubt that had been constructed.  Gurneys and equipment carts had been
knocked over and positioned in such a way that if an enemy were to make it down
here, they’d have to work their way through the obstructions in a zig-zag
pattern that would keep them exposed from many angles.  The North Koreans would
have paid dearly to fight through that maze of death.

The
final ring of barricades was manned by agents with automatic shotguns, pistols,
and even a few grenades.  Cooper nodded as he walked past, carbine pointed at
the ground. 

He
could see movement just beyond the semi-translucent plastic surgical tent that
had been attached to assorted bits of HVAC equipment.  Power to the lights and
monitoring gear appeared to be provided by a curious tangle of cords leading
from a few devices Cooper imaged had been hastily liberated from an operating
room. 

A
short woman in teal-blue scrubs with auburn hair pulled into a loose ponytail
glanced up from the bloodied agent she was tending to on the floor.  She stood
up, knuckling her back in a feline stretch and looked him over. 

“Who
the hell are
you
guys?”

“Navy
SEALs, ma’am,” Cooper said, feeling heat rush into his face.  Standing there
before her in bloodied armor, tactical-vest, helmet and black BDUs, he suddenly
felt foolish.  He looked around the makeshift ICU, cleared his throat, and
refocused is attention. 

“We
heard you needed some assistance.  Can you tell me where I can find the doctor
tending the President?”

“Yes. 
I’m one of them.”  She smiled and adjusted the stray lock of hair that
threatened to tumble down across her face.  Cooper grinned sheepishly—she had
lovely hair and that smile was the prettiest thing he’d seen on a night full of
horror—but he chased his own smile away almost immediately. 
Mission first, damn
it,
he chided himself.

The
doctor whispered something to a passing nurse decked out in blood-splattered
green scrubs, who stared open-mouthed at the arrival of the SEALs.  Cooper
watched as the nurse nodded and moved back toward the plastic tent, eyes still
on his grim-looking SEALs. 

“The
Chief of Emergency Medicine for the hospital is in with the President right
now.”  The pretty doctor pointed over to the corner.  “Dr. Fletcher—he’s our
top thoracic specialist—is resting.  He’s the only other doctor that made
it…down here…”  She pulled off a bloody latex glove and extended her clean,
soft hand.  “I’m Dr. Alston.  Brenda.  Boy, am I glad to see you guys.  It’s
getting a little crazy around here.”

Cooper
grinned and shook her hand.  It was soft, in the way that women’s hands were,
yet had a supple strength to it that sent electricity shooting down his spine
at her touch.  He had to force himself to remove his hand before the handshake
turned awkward.  He cleared his throat again and looked around, suddenly
grateful to be watching his men talking with the agents as they helped to
secure the perimeter

Dr.
Alston hugged herself and sighed.  “You guys couldn’t have picked a better time
to show up.  When those soldiers showed up and started shooting everyone…” 

“Ma’am,
you don’t know the half of it.”  Cooper shook his head.  “I never would have
believed what I’ve seen outside if I hadn’t lived through it.   I need to talk
to the President.”

“I’m
sorry,” Dr. Alston said with a genuine look of sorry on her face.  Cooper had a
momentary thought that her face was made for smiling.  “He’s got a really bad
fever.  He’s actually delirious most of the time…”

Cooper
frowned and looked around the basement, trying to organize his thoughts.  He’d
never before had to fight himself to remain on mission.  Every time he glanced
at Dr. Alston, the world seemed to grow brighter.

God
damn it, sailor, there’s a
war
going on!  Think about the doctor’s ass
some other time!   It
is
pretty nice, though....
 

“We
need to move him,
now
.” Cooper said in a tone he immediately regretted. 
He hadn’t felt so flustered like this since
high school
for cryin’ out
loud.  “This basement isn’t secure enough.  Hell, the damn
city
isn’t
secure.  No, we gotta get him out of
Los Angeles
.”  He put his hands on
his hips and rolled his neck.  After a satisfying crack, he sighed and said: 
“We put a hurtin’ on the NKors, but they’re gonna be crawling all over this
place pretty damn soon.”

Jax
walked by and smiled at Dr. Alston, reloading his M60 in stride.  “The North
Koreans are easily frightened, but they’ll soon return…
and
in greater
numbers,” he said in his best Alec Guinness voice.

“I’m
serious
, Obi Wan,” said Cooper.  The grin on his face softened the tone
of his voice.  Dr. Alston actually giggled.  It was a sweet sound that made him
really,
really
wish the North Koreans weren’t out there trying to kill
them all.

A
balding, elderly man burst from the medical tent.  He appeared to be in his
mid-sixties with a fringe of unruly gray hair orbiting his gleaming dome of a
head.  Obviously in charge, the short man bustled promptly up to Cooper.  He
pulled the mask off his face and fixed Cooper with a suspicious glare hooded by
the biggest, bushiest gray eyebrows he had ever seen. 

“I’m
Chief of Emergency Medicine, Dr. George Honeycutt.  Can you tell me just what
in the Sam Hell is going on around here?”

“Master
Chief Cooper Braaten, sir, US Navy SEALs.  ‘Hell’ about sums it up, sir.  The
President—can he be moved?”

The
older doctor snorted a laugh.  “
Moved?
  Hardly.  The poor man is barely
holding onto his life.  We’ve got him so pumped full of Tamiflu and…” he shook
his head.  “I honestly don’t know if we can even control the fever.”

“It’s
the mystery flu that’s hit all up and down the west coast,” offered Dr. Alston
with a concerned look on her face.

Cooper
nodded to hide how upset was at himself for letting that look on her face
affect him so much.  He soldiered on: “We were briefed that someone had
weaponized a strain of The Pandemic and deployed it to the west coast.  Maybe
New York and Chicago, too—at least, that was what we heard before we lost all
contact with the outside world.”

“Who
are
they?” asked Dr. Alston.  “The soldiers that attacked?”

“North
Korean marines,” said Cooper.  “Probably some of their spec-ops thrown in for
good measure.  I don’t know, they all died the same.”

“Hooyah
, Master Chief,”
grunted Mike with a smile as he and one of the agents walked by carrying a heavy
piece of equipment for the barricade.

“Look…we
need to get the President out of here.  They know he’s here, that’s why they’re
trying to take this place.  We cut a good and bloody swath through them to
reach you, but as I told Dr. Alston here,” he flashed a smile at her, “—there’s
bound to be more coming.  We’ve got to be
gone
when they come back.”

“Can’t
we just hold out till reinforcements arrive?” asked Dr. Alston.

“I’m
afraid not, ma’am.  I think the NKors are invading.”

“
Invading?
 
Los Angeles?” asked Dr. Honeycutt.

“
America
,”
Cooper said, hardly believing his own voice.

“Apache
Dawn
?
” asked Dr. Alston.  She looked around. 
“Jesus
.” 

Cooper
felt like he had been slapped. 
How the hell does she know about Apache
Dawn?  Who
is
this woman?

She
grinned and Cooper felt his heart flutter. 

“I
was a combat medic in the Army.  Did a tour in Iran, went to med school in the
reserves, and here I am.  I stay in touch with some friends…”  She chuckled. 
“Just got out last week,” she said glumly, looking around the basement.

“What
rank?” asked Cooper.  He was more impressed with her every second.  He noticed
with alarming satisfaction that Dr. Alston didn’t wear a wedding ring.

“Captain.  
And back on the front lines, it seems.”  She frowned, creating an endearing
little crease between her eyebrows. 

Dirt
and chalky-smelling concrete dust drifted down from the ceiling as the ground
rumbled beneath their feet.  Emergency lights flickered.  Conversation stopped
as everyone looked up and then at the person next to them.

Cooper
nodded.  “Then I’ll give you the straight dope, ma’am.  We’re deep in the
yogurt if we can’t get the President out of here.  We were dodging incoming
ICBMs, jets on bombing runs, and cut through a company of NKor marines out
there, just to get inside this building.” 

“My
God…” whispered Dr. Honeycutt. 

“Mark
my words, this is no small ‘international-incident’.  This is a well-planned,
seriously coordinated, large-scale offensive action.  They somehow took down
our global comms—I’m talking
net-wide
.  I can’t raise HQ at all—no
signal on the sat phones, either. 
Everything
is dead—except squad
radios.  We’re on our own, here folks.”

“What
are we supposed to do, then?” said Dr. Alston, a hand raised to her mouth. 
Cooper suddenly felt angry that her hand was trembling slightly.  He reigned in
his emotions and looked back at Dr. Honeycutt.

“First,
you have
got
to get the President stabilized.  Second, we’ve got to get
the hell out of here and find a better place to hole-up. Preferably a military
installation.”

“Well,
where did you guys come from?  Can’t we just go back?” asked Dr. Honeycutt.

“Negative,
sir.  We flew in on small helicopters.  Two were shot down.“

Dr.
Alston gasped.  “Shot down?  With
what?
”

“Stingers,
we think.  Or the North Korean equivalent.”  The Chief of Emergency Medicine’s
blank face prompted Cooper to explain further.  “It’s an infantry weapon, a
shoulder-fired heat-seeking missile.  Very accurate and highly portable.  They
were on the rooftops waiting for us.”  Cooper cleared his throat.  “It was an
ambush, we never had a chance.”

“I’m
so sorry,” said Dr. Alston softly.

“Where
did you men come?” asked Dr. Honerycutt.

“We
flew out of Coronado, the Navy Base down there.  I think getting back
there
is out of the question.  It’s chaos outside,” he said, jerking his head to
indicate the streets above them.  An idea struck him. 

He
keyed his throat mic: “Charlie.”

“Yeah,
Coop?” said his XO, moving up next to Cooper.  He shouldered his rifle and
nodding a greeting to the doctors.

“Oh,
there you are.  Hey, what’s the closest base around here? 
Anything
. 
I’ll take a damn Coast Guard station.” 

“Uh,
Los Angeles Air Force Base, I think.”

“I
believe that’s near Inglewood,” offered Dr. Honeycutt.

Cooper
rubbed his chin.  “Distance?” he asked Charlie. 

A
quick check with his wrist-mounted maps and Charlie looked up.  “Little less
than 20 miles.  Down by the coast, El Segundo.”