Trent Reedy - Divided We Fall

Then a Fed gun Hummer rolled up to cut us off. The border was completely blocked.

“Oh shit.” I looked over at Mom. She wasn’t crying, wasn’t moving. I looked back at the road. The Fed had piled up that big dirt berm on the highway across from my company’s wire obstacle, probably to use as cover in case of a firefight. It was the only way home.

“Everybody get in a seat and strap yourselves in! Now!” I screamed, pressing the gas pedal all the way to the floor. “Hold on to something!” The Beast’s engine roared. JoBell scrambled into the backseat.

“Danny, no, don’t!” Becca shouted. She must have figured out what I was planning to do. “That stuff only works in movies.”

“We’re about to find out!” I kept the Beast right on course for the dirt berm. When we reached it, I was knocked back into my seat as we shot up the six-foot, sloped barrier and then into the air over the anti-vehicle ditch.

Out the busted windshield, all I could see was sky. The engine roared louder as the wheels were suddenly free of the road. I fought hard to keep hold of the steering wheel so the tires would be straight when we landed. I let off the gas and put on the brakes instead.

We hit the wire obstacle hard. Two tires exploded at once. A green steel picket burst up through the floorboards, barely missing Mom’s legs. I heard metal scraping on metal as the wire wrapped itself around the axles and driveshaft, then the other tires burst. My seat belt dug into my chest as the Beast ground to a sickening, crunching halt. Steam rolled out from under the hood as the engine shut down, the temperature gauge spiking. Something must have hit the radiator. But we were in Idaho territory, and Mom could get help.

I had to push hard against the handle to open my dented door. “Medic!” I screamed. “I need a medic now! Call a medevac chopper!” I high-stepped through the barbed concertina wire as fast as I could to the other side of the truck. I opened Mom’s door and reached across her to unbuckle her seat belt. She felt cold and looked so pale.

“Come on, Mom. Hang in there. You’re fine. You’re fine. Where the hell’s that damned medic?” I shouted to the soldiers, who weren’t running fast enough. Mom wasn’t saying anything. I couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not.

I lifted my mother into my arms and carried her, stumbling a couple times in the wire. Finally, two soldiers took her from me, setting her down on the grass beside the road, cutting away her shirt and getting a dressing on the wound. A third medic pulled me back and started wrapping my left hand. JoBell appeared beside me and slid her arm around my back.

I winced as the medic finished bandaging me up. He waved his hand in front of my face to try to get my attention. “I don’t have enough gauze to wrap this right. It should stop the bleeding for now, but this is going to need stitches, maybe surgery.”

I pushed him aside and stepped toward Mom. The medics were trying CPR, but her eyes… They were dull and not focused on anything. She didn’t move, didn’t breathe.

She was dead. My mother, Kelly Elizabeth Wright, was dead.

I promised I would always look out for her. Promised to bring her home safely. That’s all I wanted to do, bring her home. I clenched my fists until blood began to soak through the bandage on my wounded hand.

My mother was dead. The damned Fed had ruined everything.

“They killed her,” I whispered.

One medic shook his head. The other looked up at me. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“They killed her,” I said louder. I rushed to JoBell and grabbed the AR15.

“Danny, no!” JoBell shouted.

Sweeney and Cal were still back by my busted-up truck, yelling for me to stop, but I didn’t listen. I ran up beside the wire obstacle, closer and closer to the border, clenching my left fist at an angle above my head, trying to stop the blood that was already soaking through parts of my white bandage. I held the rifle in my right hand, the stock supported under my armpit, as I came to within a dozen feet of the state line. The Feds over there must have been scared of the Apaches coming back. They stayed behind whatever cover they could find. “You killed my mother!” I shouted across the border. “Why the hell can’t you leave us alone!”

I opened fire. One, two, three rounds at a cement barricade. Soldiers ducked behind it. Another Fed shot at me from behind a tree. I gave him two rounds, but my shot went wide.

“Come out and fight, cowards!” I shot again and again, most of the Feds staying covered, my adrenaline keeping me moving as a few rounds struck the ground around me. “You want war? We will give you a war!”

Finally, the trigger brought only a dull click as my rifle ran out of ammunition. Idaho Humvees rolled up next to me and soldiers rushed out to stop me. I dropped to the ground, sobbing, feeling as empty as my weapon.

—• As governor, I did approve PFC Daniel Wright’s leave, as he said he needed to settle some things at home since his mother was trapped in Spokane. I did not know about, and I certainly did not authorize, his mission into Washington. The death of Staff Sergeant Kirklin is a tragedy, but it was the result of self-defense, as Wright had committed no crime except for trying to help his mother return to her home when Kirklin attempted to arrest him. Specialist Barlon, the turret gunner that Wright was forced to wound, is in good condition and expected to make a full recovery. The air support assets I deployed to protect Wright were ordered to provide nonlethal cover fire, and I’m pleased to report no Fed soldiers were hurt.

Unfortunately, federal troops did wound Wright. They did kill Wright’s mother. His father was killed in action in Afghanistan years ago. Now this seventeen-year-old soldier is without parents. I offer my condolences to Private Wright and to the family of Staff Sergeant Kirklin, and my apologies to Specialist Barlon. We are faced with tragedy upon tragedy as a result of the federal blockade. •—

—• More bad news from the New York Stock Exchange today as investors who had been encouraged by recent negotiations between Idaho and the Fed are retreating in light of recent shootings in Spokane, Washington, and on Idaho’s borders with Washington and Nevada. Some markets declined as much as •—

—• The president today said that he does not accept Governor Montaine’s explanation of the recent events surrounding Private First Class Wright, and demands that the young soldier stand trial for wounding Specialist Barlon and for the death of Staff Sergeant Kirklin. The president said, quote, “In order to honor Specialist Barlon as well as Staff Sergeant Kirklin’s wife and two children, Wright must be held accountable for the shooting. Until then, there can be little hope for progress in negotiations between the state of Idaho and the federal government.”

NBC News has also learned that Daniel Wright has been placed on special bereavement leave and reduced two ranks to private, the lowest rank in the Army. Governor Montaine insists this disciplinary action is not related to the shooting in Spokane, but instead results from Private Wright applying for leave under false pretenses. •—