Jacqueline Druga - Fallout

“Aim.”

He lifted his chin proudly, taking a deep breath. He would not leave this world scared, but rather he would do his best to be brave.

A split second before he hollered, “‘Fire,” Sergeant Huang stepped from the ranks of the line, pivoted his body and on his call, gunned down the four other soldiers.

General Liu was waiting for the bullets, but what he witnessed, shocked him so much, he dropped to the ground to his knees.

Huang lifted one of the rifles from a dead soldier, slung it over his shoulder and raced to General Liu.

“Sergeant Huang. You…”

Huang pulled out a knife and reached behind General Liu for his bound hands. “I have help with an escape plan. We’ll go through the catering room, back to the basement. I need you to hurry.” He cut the binding on General Liu’s wrist.

“What you did, Sergeant Huang…”

Suddenly, he spoke perfect English, and Liu understood him. “My name is Tommy Cho.” He helped General Liu to his feet as he spoke fast. “I am a First Sergeant in the United States Marine Corp. I am a plant. I think you’re a good man. Come with me.” He pulled on his arm. “Please”—he looked at him squarely in the eyes—“don’t make me regret this decision.”

Without any choice, and grateful for saving him, General Liu went with the young man.

Troy was almost there. Seventeen miles out from the town of Caldwell. His team raring and ready to go, he received a message on the secure line.

“Abort.”

Troy had been in the service long enough to know that no mission is simply aborted with one word and no verification. He looked down to the military phone and replied. “Verification.”

A second later came the response, “Lenny Kravitz.”

“Password.”

“AFZ1965REAGAN.”

“Damn it,” Troy nearly slammed the phone. He took a second and sent another message. “Why?”

“Compromised. We’re out of sync. Caldwell will be next wave.”

He bit his lip and shook his head. “Pull over,” he told the driver.

Another ‘blip’ and Troy looked down to the message.

“Before base. Stop. Hit high ground. Look up.”

Troy crinkled his brow at the mysterious message. The truck had stopped, and Troy stepped out. They were already on backroads. He began to look around.

“Captain, what’s going on?” one of his men asked.

“Mission aborted men. I’m told there will be another raid. Right now, we’re out of sync. So, someone jumped the gun.” He looked left to right until he spotted a large hillside. He then glanced down to his watch. The small compass indicted east. “That… over there. Anyone have suggestions how we can get there? We need to get to high ground.”

“Why?” someone asked.

“I don’t know.”

“Saw a road turn off about four clicks back,” a driver said. “Bet that will take us to high ground.”

“Let’s try it. Everyone back in. Let’s go,” Troy ordered.

They regrouped and reloaded in the trucks. That road was not the one, but they did locate another when looking at the map. Just about the time they were supposed to hit Caldwell camp, they were all on top of the large hillside.

“Okay, we’re on high ground,” a sergeant said. “What now?”

“I’m told to look up.”

“Look up?”

“Look up.” Troy’s simple mysterious message implied for them to look up. On that hilltop, heads tilted back with eyes on the sky, they all did just that and waited.

Resources are not just fresh food and water, it is shelter, medical care… a cure. With the exuberant amount of available hands, the plentiful vat of resources, the finest medical treatment. It is in the best interest of this country to hand over control to the People’s Republic of China. Tens of millions of people are in dire need of medical attention over this virus. In a few minutes, you will bear witness to my proclamation of surrender. I do this not with a heavy heart, but with a clear mind and optimistic view of the future.

Madeline rehearsed her script in the bathroom of her suite before it was time to go.

Good morning. My name is Madeline Tanner. Many of you know me as Speaker of the House. During a domestic attack on our country, those ahead of me in succession for the presidency were killed, and I was sworn in.

She didn’t write it, it was written for her.

We are blessed and grateful that the People’s Republic of China was ready to step in to help. Yet, we have refused their help and that has placed us in a predicament. They are at a loss to fully deliver what we need.

She hated the thought of delivering it but what choice did she have? The surrender was to be such a momentous occasion that it was going to be broadcast to every available citizen who could watch a television. Her makeup and hair were done by a professional brought in to see her that morning, and a tailor fitted her with a perfect suit, aimed to sooth and reassure the public. They were setting up a podium on the Riverwalk, complete with a table where she would sign her surrender with parliament leaders from China.

Madeline was to look happy about it. After the surrender treaty, she would be free to an extent. She was granted permission to watch the rebuilding and reorganizing along with the distribution of food and medical care.

She had a morning drink to calm her nerves and declined a mild anti-anxiety. Fully presentable, she was taken from the hotel by way of limousine to the park where she would deliver the speech.

Fen Shu rode in the front with the driver.

It was a painful ride, emotionally she wanted to run and hide. She hated herself for giving up.

“Almost there,” Fen told her. “A few more moments. Many people are out wanting to see this. It is a glorious day.”

It would be over soon, then she’d find a way to bury her head in shame.

A few moments later, something changed.

Fen’s phone rang.

“Yes,” Fen answered. Then after a pause, the typically cool and calm woman blasted a, “What!” then hurriedly rolled up the window between her and Madeline.

Madeline wasn’t too familiar with San Antonio, she wouldn’t have had a clue that they made an abrupt turn, had that window not gone up.

Suddenly the leisurely drive picked up pace and Madeline was sliding back and forth across the seat with every wild turn until the limousine came to a slamming stop. She shot forward into the seat across from her and banged her head off the corner of the interior window.

She felt the hard pain and the warm feeling on the blood that instantly rolled down her face. In a total state of confusion, she brought her fingers to the injury as she fumbled to get up and back on her seat.

The door opened.

“Out. Now.” Fen reached in and grabbed her. “Hurry.”

“What’s going on?” Madeline asked.

Fen pulled her out of the car with force and Madeline tripped. Her knees buckled and she caught herself before she collided with the concrete.

With a tight grip on her arm, Fen yanked her up and that was when Madeline noticed people were running, yelling. Cars were screeching to a halt, crashing into each other.

“Move,” Fen ordered, pulling her through the street, weaving in and out of cars. They headed toward a coffee shop. “In here.”

Approaching the store front, Madeline paused when she heard the sound of gun fire. She turned to look over her shoulder and gasped in shock when a soldier with a parachute, landed in the street, then another.

She looked up.

The clear blue sky of San Antonio was peppered with hundreds, if not thousands of paratroopers dropping to the ground, and Madeline was positive due to Fen’s reaction, that they weren’t soldiers of the People’s Republic of China.