William Weber - Turning the Tide

“The Russians have also heard about the attack and are asking if we need their assistance.”

“Absolutely not,” Liang shouted back in a rare loss of control. “I’m very familiar with Russia’s offers to help. Next thing we know Federation troops will be swarming over land conquered with Chinese blood and sweat. Inform them that we’re fine and that we’ll handle this on our own.”

“Very well, sir,” Li replied.

“Who’s our top special forces commander in the region?” Liang asked.

“Uh…” Li stammered, shuffling through an armful of beige folders.

“That would be Zhang Shuhong,” his aide Colonel Guo said, flicking through his papers and holding one up. “I believe he and his men are currently in Houston quelling an uprising there. Before the war Zhang distinguished himself in Tibet, subduing the local population. His methods are harsh, but effective.”

General Liang squared his hat back on his head and stood. “Bring me Zhang and his men by tomorrow at the latest.”

Colonel Li swallowed hard. “Our radio communications are only slowly coming back up after the American EMP, but I will send a messenger by motorbike to retrieve him.”

“Use smoke signals if you must,” General Liang barked. “But I want him here as soon as possible and a briefing on my desk by 0600 hours with intelligence on who was behind these attacks. And do what you can about re-establishing contact with our agent in Oneida. If anyone can tell us who these people are, it’ll be Phoenix.”

Phoenix was also the name Diane heard as she entered the mayor’s office. General Brooks was with Rodriguez in the radio room, speaking with General Dempsey.

“One of my men apprehended him, General,” Brooks was saying. “Saw a man acting suspiciously in the woods and went to investigate. They’re on patrol for this very eventuality. We’ve been on high alert since our Chinese POW managed to escape.”

Diane slowed down as she neared the doorway.

“Very good, General Brooks. You’ve proven yourself a terrific asset to the cause. Have your people managed to extract any information from the suspect?”

“Nothing useful yet, sir,” Brooks replied, “but I assure you my men are using every means at their disposal to pull what we can from the Chinese agent.”

“Our boys intercepted a coded Chinese radio message about an attack on the prison camp outside Jonesboro. Seems like not all of their equipment was fried.”

“That happens, sir,” Brooks replied. “Even an EMP can’t bat a thousand.”

“Yes, but Colonel Mack and his men have not yet returned.”

Diane’s spine stiffened. Could freeing Jonesboro have been the mission John left on? The idea was tantalizing. It meant she might soon be hugging Brandon and her son, right before she admonished them both for having run off in the first place.

“I like his initiative,” Dempsey said. “I only wish we had more officers like him.”

“Colonel Mack isn’t a regular officer,” Brooks said.

“What do you mean? He isn’t a colonel?”

“He’s a retired Iraq vet who’s also the acting mayor of Oneida,” Brooks told him. “Was a lieutenant with the 278th ACR, if I remember correctly. I reactivated him and boosted his rank to colonel when we arrived so he could issue orders.”

“Great thinking, General. Looks like you picked a winner.”

Even from the hallway, Diane could feel the blood boiling in Brooks’ veins. She walked by then, and waved at the general as she passed, the tiniest hint of a smirk on her lips.

Diane found Emma out back, feeding George handfuls of wild grass.

“I think he’s sad,” Emma said, petting the bird’s head with one hand, the other cupping under its beak.

Diane laughed. “What makes you say that?”

“I think he needs a girlfriend.”

George paced around his tiny enclosure, waiting for Emma to hand him more grass.

“You think he’s lonely?” Diane asked.

“Sure. How many geese do you see in this town?”

“You do have a point there.” Diane paused and studied her daughter’s hands. They were trembling. “What do you suggest?”

“Maybe when Gregory and Brandon get back we can head to Stanley Lake and see if we can find a girlfriend for George. I don’t want him to grow old never knowing what it’s like to have someone to love.”

Diane curled an arm around Emma. “I hope you haven’t given up on finding Brandon and your brother.”

Emma tossed a few blades of grass into the enclosure and watched them drop to the ground in spirals. “I hope he got the message I sent him in the leaflet.”

“I’m sure he did,” Diane said reassuringly.

Emma smiled. “You know, sometimes I look at George in his enclosure and it makes me think of Gregory.”

“You mean because they’re both prisoners?”

“Not really. Remember when Gregory was four and he got that bone infection―”

“Osteomyelitis,” Diane said, puzzled. “Yes, I remember vividly. Your brother was an active little boy who fell on his knees one too many times. Doctor said the infection must have entered through the broken skin on his kneecaps, got into his blood and then the bone around his knee. They threaded a PICC line through the vein in his upper arm to his heart in order to drip-feed him his antibiotics.”

“I was only six,” Emma said, “but I still remember how he used to bounce around in his playpen, frustrated that he couldn’t get out and go play.”

Diane felt the tears coming and fought hard to keep them at bay. Her eyes found George again, waddling back and forth within the confines of his cage. “I guess I see what you mean.”

“He came home on Christmas Day,” Emma said. “I remember that most of all because I thought it was the best present I ever got.”

Diane pulled her daughter in tight.

Looking up at her, Emma grew serious. “And don’t you ever tell him what I just said.”

Now Diane did laugh. “Your brother knows you love him, Emma. Even if you’re too proud to tell him yourself.”

John and his Rough Riders returned to Oneida exhausted from the long and dangerous journey home. When they emerged from the woods and onto Alberta Street, many of the workers busy repairing buildings or bolstering the town’s defenses stopped what they were doing to marvel at the sight.

The men on horseback rode with one and sometimes two children seated behind them. Others had adults too frail or sick to walk. In all, John had returned with over a hundred former POWs, the rest having scattered in all directions to form resistance groups of their own. At least that was the hope.

Seated behind John was his son Gregory, who hadn’t dared let go since they’d set off from Jonesboro. It was only when Diane pulled up in a golf cart, her face a mask of disbelief and joy, that Gregory slipped off and ran to her. The rest of the column returned to the stables. John told Moss he wouldn’t be long.

The streets were noticeably fuller now that parts of the 3rd Infantry Division had showed up. The stress it put on food management was no doubt high, but with rationing of resources, John was sure they would be fine. As long as everyone pulled their own weight.

After dismounting, John went to the crowd gathering around Gregory and Diane.

“You take off like that again and I’ll kill you myself,” Diane said, squeezing him.

Gregory tried to smile, but it was clear he was weak and needed rest and maybe something warm to eat.

“Where did you find him?” a man with a sledgehammer asked.

The mission had been kept a tight secret and John was happy to see it had stayed that way. But now that they were back he saw no reason to maintain the subterfuge. He told the citizens assembled how they’d attacked and freed a camp with American prisoners.