The Gulf of Death Page 2

  “Yeah, pencil neck, but we aren’t going in there, remember? We lure them out here.”

  “He’s right,” Jason said. “We’ll go in there eventually, but not while they’ve got so many fighters there waiting for us.”

  “Here comes that second wave, folks,” Kyle said. “That’ll take their numbers down a peg.”

  “We’ve still got a lot of enemy fighters rushing towards our forces along Haskell,” Curt said. “They’re ready. What about air support?”

  “There’s choppers nearby,” Jason said, “but we aren’t going to use them unless we get into trouble. They’ll cause too much collateral damage.”

  “We should just napalm the whole damn fairgrounds,” Junior said.

  “That was discussed,” Jason said. “Nelson’s team thinks they’re holding hostages.”

  “They’ll kill them when they start losing, if they haven’t already,” Junior said.

  “You might be right, but we can’t take the chance… unless our main group is threatened with defeat, and I don’t see that happening.”

  “Third wave on the way,” Eric said. Gunfire ramped up again, the push coming north of them this time, most of the enemy fighters trying to cross 2nd Avenue between Grand and Parry.

  “We got enough people over there?” Curt asked.

  Patriot gunfire started up, along with tribal war whoops.

  Junior cheered. “Stanton’s group. Sounds like they’re having a great time.”

  “Boy, that scared the crap out of the enemy,” Eric said. “About half of them turned tail and ran back over 1st Avenue.”

  “Hey, man, they’re not stopping there,” Junior said. “Some of them are past the Cotton Bowl now. Stanton spooked them good.”

  “They’re trying to lure Stanton’s warriors in,” Jason said, sending them a quick text, telling them not to take the bait.

  “Here comes another wave by us,” Eric said. “Get ready.”

  Suddenly there was an explosion, hitting between 2nd Avenue and Highway 352.

  “Shit, mortars,” Curt said.

  “Yeah, looks like it came from the Midway area, just right of the Ferris Wheel,” Jason said. “Didn’t hit anybody. Just landed on the parking lot for the Texas Discovery Gardens.”

  Another mortar round blew up.

  “They aren’t very good,” Curt said. “Same place as the first one.”

  “They don’t have anybody close enough to spot for them,” Junior said. “If they get somebody placed, they’ll kill some of us. We need to do something. Should we use our own mortars?”

  “No,” Jason said.

  “Hey, the enemy has left the area before the midway empty now,” Curt said. “See that? Most of the enemy fighters are heading for the area behind the Cotton Bowl.”

  “Was wondering what happened to the next wave,” Junior said. “We need to go in there and nail that mortar team.”

  “I agree,” Eric said. “Let’s take our vehicles in there. Lots of cover here and there, and we can see that the enemy aren’t occupying the covered areas.”

  “Assuming they’re all Islamists with RFID,” Jason said.

  “Most of them are, from what we can tell,” Curt said, “and thanks to the history program, we’d know if there were a bunch of folks shielded from view.”

  “Hey, guys, Chance here. We’re watching the drone video. I can see where the mortar team is. They’re in disarray. Most of them want to flee with the rest of the cretins. Oh, and by the way, I give the fleeing fighters about three minutes before they run right into that large group of citizens on Haskell.”

  “We’d better go destroy their mortars before they turn around and run back this way,” Amanda said.

  “She’s right, man,” Junior said.

  “Listen,” Chance said. “Go between the Band Shell and the Discovery Gardens. Make a right on the access road before the Ferris wheel, and then a left into the Midway. They’re smack-dab in the middle of that area.”

  “Jason?” Junior asked.

  “Yeah, let’s do it. Only small off-roaders, though. I don’t want bigger vehicles getting stuck back there. That means you, Eric.”

  “Dammit, Curt and Junior get all the fun,” Eric quipped.

  “Here we go!” Curt said, driving the off-roader to the right, then into the wooded section of Martin Luther King Jr. Boulevard, between the Fairground Band Shell and the Texas Discovery Gardens, Junior and Rachel behind them, several dozen more off-roaders racing to catch up.

  {2}

  Dockside Pick-Up

  T he DPS Patrol boat was in trouble. Juan Carlos was down, unconscious, bleeding from his side. Richardson was hit, down on his knees, trying to steer the boat as they chased the Grady White Sport fisher that had gotten past them. Brendan was manning his gun, trying to nail the boat that was chasing them before they could shoot Richardson again.

  “I’m gonna nail you assholes!” Brendan shouted, firing a barrage of grenades at the pursuing boat, which was getting closer, the man in the bow trying to get a bead on Richardson. “Dammit. Missed. They’re moving around so much.”

  “Let them get closer,” Richardson yelled.

  “They’ll hit you, man.”

  “Let me worry about that. Do your job.”

  “Shit,” Brendan said, waiting, firing the microgun at the front of the boat, making holes but not hitting anyone. “I don’t like these new guns.”

  “Keep on them,” Richardson shouted, steering the boat with his left hand, the other bloodied and hanging.

  “Here they come!” Brendan shouted, the Grady White only thirty yards behind them. He fired several grenades again, this time hitting with two, the boat blowing up behind them. “Score!”

  Richardson didn’t answer. Brendan rushed up to the bridge. “Boss!” Richardson looked at him with dull eyes, almost ready to pass out. Brendan moved him out of the way and took over the helm, getting the grenade launcher ready. The patrol boat was already going full bore, but the Grady White was pulling away, nearly fifty yards in front of them now.

  “Just like the SMAW,” Brendan said, aiming high and firing grenade after grenade at the fleeing boat, all of them falling short. He raised the trajectory and fired another volley, his blood up. He could feel the gun now, like he could with the SMAW, using that to aim, firing several more rounds. One landed in the stern, blowing a chunk out of the side, slowing the boat, a man in the back hit. The man in the passenger seat turned, firing an AK-47 at the Patrol boat which was gaining now, the bullets bouncing off the front of the pilot station.

  “You guys are history!” Brendan shouted, shooting by feel again, landing four grenades on the boat, all of them blowing up, pieces of the craft flying into the air. Brendan watched the boat sink in seconds, then raced back to the dock, eyeing his friends bleeding on the deck, not slowing as he got into the inner harbor, his wake slapping against the breakwater. Lee was waiting for him, his lanky form visible from several hundred yards out. Brendan slowed the boat, slamming it into reverse as he got close, Lee reaching down to grab the side.

  “I called for paramedics already,” Lee said. “I could see what happened from here. How bad are they hit?”

  “Both lost a lot of blood,” Brendan said, eyes full of worry. “I can’t tell how badly they’re hurt. I think Richardson is only hit in the arm, but Juan Carlos took a hit to the torso. He’s been out for nearly five minutes.”

  Lee tied the boat to the dock and jumped in as Brendan checked Juan Carlos for a pulse.

  “Is he alive?” Lee asked.

  “Yeah, he’s still got a pulse. I’ll check Richardson.”

  “He’s alive, I can see him breathing.”

  They heard sirens approaching, and several emergency vehicles flew through the gate, speeding down to the dock.

  Lee and Brendan got out of the boat, watching as the paramedics carefully moved Juan Carlos and Brendan onto the gurneys they’d brought over.

  “How bad?” Brendan asked.
r />   “The older guy will probably make it,” one of them said. “Not so sure about the younger guy. He’s shot in a worse place.”

  “Where are you taking them?” Brendan asked.

  “Only one place here,” Lee said. “Same one they took Lita to.”

  “Mainland Medical,” the paramedic said.

  “Okay, thanks.”

  Brendan and Lee watched as the paramedics loaded their friends and left.

  “You need to use our bus again?” Lee asked.

  “No thanks, we got a rental van. I’d better call Hannah and let her know what happened. Thanks so much for your help.”

  “No problem. I hope they both survive.”

  Brendan shook Lee’s hand and walked to the mini-van, the tears hitting him hard as he opened the door. He got out his phone and hit Hannah’s contact.

  “Brendan?” she asked.

  “Juan Carlos,” he said, breaking into sobs.

  “What happened?”

  “Both shot. Richardson and Juan Carlos. They’re on the way to the hospital now.”

  “Are you hurt?”

  “No.”

  “I’ll tell the others. Can you drive? You sound bad.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll pull myself together in a minute or two. I’ll come to the hotel first.”

  “Be careful,” Hannah said. “I love you.”

  “Love you, honey. See you soon.” He ended the call and drove away.

  {3}

  Ferris Wheel

  C hance sat in front of two PC monitors in the intelligence room, one showing drone video of the battle at the Dallas Fairgrounds, the other showing the detailed long-range app, doing an auto-refresh every few seconds. He was wearing a Bluetooth headset. Francis was on his right, Dirk on his left, both with the same setup.

  “This makes me nervous as hell,” Chance said, watching as Curt, Junior, and a few dozen more off-roaders sped up Martin Luther King Boulevard towards the Ferris Wheel.

  “Those rigs make enough noise for the enemy to hear them coming, you know,” Francis said, the lines in his face showing concern.

  “Yeah, they do,” Dirk said. “I can’t believe we lost Kelly and Brenda.”

  “I can’t think about that right now,” Francis said, “and you shouldn’t either. We’ve got to stay tight.”

  “They’re making the right turn,” Chance said, sweat dripping off his nose. He stretched the neck of his shirt up to wipe it.

  “The enemy fighters from behind the Cotton Bowl are moving,” Dirk said.

  “I see them,” Chance said. “They’re the main danger.”

  Francis nodded. “True, but they won’t get there in time. Look. Curt and Junior are already in range.”

  There were a few small explosions on the silent video feed as the two off-roaders got closer, and then one very large explosion, blowing the mortar rounds sky high, the surviving Islamists fleeing for their lives.

  Chance unclicked the mute button on his screen. “Nice work, guys, but be aware that there are enemy fighters heading your direction now, from behind the stadium.”

  “We see them, pencil neck,” Curt said. “Should we engage?”

  “There’s a lot of them, man,” Dirk said.

  “We know that,” Curt said. “The apps, remember?”

  “I say let them get a quick look at you and then lead them back to the larger group,” Francis said.

  “Yeah, that’s good advice,” Jason said. “We’ll be ready. Bring them to us.”

  “Can’t guarantee that they’ll follow, but we’ll give it a shot,” Junior said. There was the sound of his grenade launcher firing, then he let out a war cry, Curt joining in.

  “Don’t mess around with those guys,” Francis said. “There could be snipers along the top of the Cotton Bowl. They might get a good shot, and you’ve got no armor.”

  “Don’t worry, we’re turning around now,” Junior said. “I just wanted to get their attention. Wasn’t sure they saw us.”

  “They’ve got some kind of surveillance,” Chance said. “They knew you were on the way. Look for video cameras on your way back.”

  “Funny you should mention that,” Rachel said. “There’s one right there, on the left Ferris Wheel strut.” The sound of an M60 came over the speaker. “Scratch that, but we don’t know if they were using it or not.”

  “There’s another one,” Curt said. “See it, sweetie, on that big tree, halfway down the street there?”

  “I got it,” Amanda said, her gun firing, smashing the camera to bits.

  “Get back here, dammit,” Jason said.

  “They just made the left onto Martin Luther King,” Chance said. “They’ll be back in a second.”

  “We shouldn’t have taken out those cameras,” Francis said.

  “Why not, pencil neck?”

  “The enemy stopped chasing you. They’re going back behind the Cotton Bowl.”

  “That’s not good for them,” Dirk said. “Look, the citizens along Haskell see them. They’re on the way there.”

  “We should go in from our side and start a nice crossfire,” Junior said.

  “Wait a few seconds and see what happens,” Jason said. “Might be a good idea.”

  “I’d be careful sending too many forces into the middle of that fairgrounds,” Francis said. “They might have the whole damn place booby trapped like the Fiesta Mart and the building that got Kelly and Brenda. Can’t see that with the apps.”

  “That’s why I want them back here,” Jason said.

  “I think we ought to pelt the whole damn area with mortar fire,” Curt said. “Nothing in this place is worth one more of our lives.”

  “There might be hostages in there someplace,” Jason said.

  “If there are, they’re dead already,” Curt said. “Let’s be real.”

  “Yeah, but what if they’re not?” Dirk asked.

  “I agree with Curt,” Francis said. “We ought to light this place up. We know which buildings they’ve got people in. I don’t want to kill civilians, but the longer we let them occupy this area, the more people are gonna get killed. It’s just that simple.”

  “I need to run that by Nelson’s team,” Jason said.

  “Then do it, pencil neck,” Curt said. “We’re just about out of here. You’ll see us any second.”

  “Yep, they’re in the last wooded stretch, past 1st Avenue,” Chance said. “Oh, shit, watch out. Some Islamists just got on the roof of the Texas Discovery Gardens building.”

  “Where?” Jason asked. “There’s no hits there.”

  “Then some of the enemy don’t have RFID,” Junior said. “Dammit, I was afraid of that.”

  “I see them,” Amanda said. The sound of her machine gun came over the speaker, causing Chance to take his earpiece out for a second.

  “Nailed the ones looking over the edge,” Amanda said. “We just passed 2nd Avenue.”

  “I see you guys,” Jason said. “Good.”

  “You try Nelson’s team yet?” Curt asked.

  “Got a call in to them now,” Jason replied. “Waiting.”

  “Wow,” Chance said. “The citizens are engaging the enemy fighters on the far side of the Cotton Bowl right now.”

  “Dammit, we need to help them,” Curt said.

  “Hey, why don’t we just go around?” Junior asked.

  “Go around?” Jason asked.

  “Yeah, if we can get to Washington Street, it’ll take us right to that side of the Cotton Bowl. Look at the map. 2nd Avenue curves around in that direction. Easy peasy.”

  “He’s right,” Dirk said, looking at his screen. “There’s more citizens going that way too.”

  “What’s to keep the enemy from running back towards 2nd Avenue and hitting our main group?” Amanda asked.

  “We’re not sending everybody to the other side,” Junior said. “The off-roaders and some of the larger vehicles will be enough.”

  “Yeah, I want to take the Bronco over there,” Eric s
aid.

  “Okay, do it,” Jason said. “Be careful.”

  “Blast any video cameras you see, too,” Dirk said.

  “You got it,” Amanda said.

  {4}

  It’s Like Dunkirk

  K ip Hendrix and Maria were sitting in the bunker’s console room, watching the drone feed of the battle at the Dallas Fairgrounds. Governor Nelson came in with Dr. Schultz and Chief Ramsey.

  “Sorry that took so long,” Nelson said.

  “We got more drones bought?” Hendrix asked.

  Nelson sighed. “Yeah, but they’re gonna cost, and they’re not quite as advanced as the models we have.”

  “With so many citizens out of work, Texas will run out of money by year end,” Ramsey said.

  “It’s getting rough, but we have to concentrate on this damn war,” Nelson said. “How’s the battle going?”

  “We lost Kelly and his woman,” Hendrix said.

  “Oh, dammit,” Nelson said. “How?”

  “Booby-trapped building.”

  “I hate these cretins,” Ramsey said. “That’s a bad loss. He was valuable.”

  “Yes,” Nelson said. “What else?”

  “The rest of the battle is going well, for the most part,” Hendrix said. “Thanks to the citizen recruits, it’s on its way to becoming another rout. The current fighting is on the north-east side of the Cotton Bowl. The problem will be rooting the surviving enemy forces out of the fairgrounds. The Fort Stockton leadership believes there might be more booby-trapped buildings in there.”

  “Why don’t we just flatten the whole place?” Ramsey asked.

  “Probably my fault,” Nelson said. “I got some intelligence saying that there might be hostages there.”

  “From where?” Hendrix asked.

  “Phone calls into our switchboard. We need more data.”

  “Expand the view of the fairgrounds, so we can see what we’re up against,” Ramsey said.

  “I’ll do that,” Maria said, rolling her chair to the console. She adjusted the screen so it showed the entire complex.

  “Damn, there’s so many buildings,” Nelson said. “So many places where the enemy might be hiding.”