William Forstchen - The Final Day

“John, I’ve ordered a chopper to start running up. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“General, you come up on a chopper, and I promise you, my people will shoot it down. They’re in a killing mood. Five of my students and friends died rescuing my wife and me.”

The enormity of their sacrifice hit him. It was amazing it was not five, even ten times that number given whom they went against.

“I got at least another dozen wounded. You fly up here, and you and your crew will be added to the list. Now, if you want to bomb the place, just go ahead, but this entire campus will be evacuated before you get here.”

“John, please listen to me. I don’t know what the hell you are talking about. Are you hearing me?”

“Yes, I’m listening.”

“Whoever it was, it was not me or anyone in my command.”

John sat down. Bob’s words were what he wanted to believe.

“Can we do this, John?”

“What, damn it?”

“I’ll come up alone, in a Humvee with just a driver—at dawn, so there is no confusion in the dark. Your people can stop and search me at the security gate you have out on the interstate.”

“Until you prove yourself different, Bob, it’s on your head. Okay, come on up.

“Stop at the security gate, but if my people see one additional vehicle or hear anything overhead, all bets are off.”

“All right. I’ll be at the gate come dawn.”

“And what’s to prevent you from having a few F-18s up at thirty thousand feet?”

“I have no reply other than my word.” He paused. “And memory of your Jennifer to guide me now.”

With that, John looked down at flame-scorched Rabs, whom he had placed on the desk.

“Dawn, then.”

GeneralBob Scales stood with arms extended straight out as two of the security guards at the Exit 59 barrier roughly patted him down and then none too gently pushed him forward.

Contrary to Kevin’s, Reverend Black’s, and his own wife’s appeal, he had decided to meet Bob at the gate. If anything was to go down, he’d rather it be here than down on the campus. He had forsaken Maury’s far too easily identifiable jeep and instead had Black drive him to the meeting in his old Volvo. Lee had shown up and insisted he go along as well. Kevin had already gone ahead with several carloads of the militia and a pickup truck with a “package” in the back for Bob.

The guards pointed to where John waited, standing under the roof of a makeshift shelter that had been erected to protect the interstate security team. Bob approached slowly, keeping his hands out and clearly visible.

There were no salutes, no friendly exchanges other than a warning from Kevin that if he made the wrong move, it would be the last gesture he would ever make.

“How is Makala?” Bob finally asked. “Are she and your baby okay?”

“They’re fine,” was all John could say, and then he looked past Bob to Kevin. “Go ahead and show him what we brought along.”

Kevin put his hand on Bob’s shoulder and guided him to the back of the pickup truck and pulled off the tarp covering the rear of the vehicle. Bob stared for a moment and then looked back to John.

“Upon all that I hold sacred, John, I swear to you they are not mine. I’ve never seen them before.”

“We stripped them of their gear,” Kevin said coldly. “High-quality stuff, regular army. The one Colonel Matherson shot in the face was roasted to a crisp when his house burned. His grave is the rubble that’s still smoldering. We’re still hunting the last one, but he won’t last long; he’s trailing blood. You want them back, sir?”

Bob looked over sharply at Kevin and shook his head. “Bury the bastards wherever you want. They’re not mine, and that’s final.”

“Kevin, take them to where we dumped the bodies of the dead Posse. That’s all they deserve.”

As he spoke, he watched Bob closely. Both he and Bob had been taught a code of honor when it came to their own dead. Not even a body was ever to be left behind, no matter what the cost of retrieving it.

Bob did not flinch or show the slightest emotion at John’s cold words of scorn.

“John, if there is nothing else, do I have your permission to leave?”

John could only nod.

Bob turned and started to walk back to his Humvee.

“General Scales?”

Bob turned and looked back.

“If not you, then who?”

Bob stopped and then slowly walked up to John, stopping almost within touching distance. Kevin was on one side of him, Lee on the other, and both were tense, ready to spring.

“Look me in the eyes, John.”

John did as requested.

“Upon the memory of Jennifer’s grave and wherever my Linda now rests, I swear to you I did not do this.”

“Then who?”

“I gave you a warning. There are more than a few who want you dead, John Matherson. I hate to think it is who I now suspect, but maybe it is.”

John took that in but did not reply.

“And if so, and if they tried for you in your home, they know more about you than even I do. It means you have someone in your community who has given information out.” He paused as if suddenly realizing something. “And it means they know that you and I have talked.”

He stood silent as if evaluating that thought.

“God be with you, John,” Bob whispered, “and maybe I should ask that He be with me as well in the days ahead.”

John did not reply as Bob turned again and walked back to his Humvee, which backed up, turned, and then sped off.

“I don’t believe him,” Lee finally said, and Kevin nodded.

John kept his thoughts to himself and then finally looked at Kevin. “Dump their bodies like I said,” John finally said. “And, Kevin, keep a twenty-four-hour watch on Makala, and I am not to know where she is.”

“Already taken care of, sir.”

“Lee, mind if I bunk with you?”

His friend smiled and nodded.

“Ernie, I need something, and I need it now,” John announced while still standing out in the snow in Ernie’s driveway.

For once, Ernie was out the door to greet him and actually grabbed John by the hand. “You okay? We heard about what happened last night. Makala, is she okay?”

“Yes, just fine. We’re fine.”

“Those sons of bitches.”

Lee had thrown a fit when, at midday, John had roused from his exhausted sleep and announced he was going to visit Ernie.

That had triggered an explosion of anxiety, with Kevin appearing with a pickup truck–load of their troops, fully armed, several of them wearing the captured gear taken from the dead raiders.

The last attacker had been found dead, shortly after dawn, having apparently bled out from his wounds, and after being stripped, he had been dumped with the others.

At least for the moment, it meant to John that he was safe and would not let what happened stop him from his routine, and that included using Maury’s jeep when it was snowing, so he ordered Kevin and the others to relax and get some sleep. An order reluctantly obeyed.

“Mind if we come in?” John asked, nodding over to Maury, who was standing beside his jeep and throwing blankets over the seats to keep the snow that was falling from covering them.

“Why don’t you have a top for that damn thing?” Ernie asked, shouting to Maury.

“Couldn’t find one that was authentic to the period.”

“Oh, great, historical accuracy before comfort.”

Maury did not reply. John knew it was painful enough for his friend to redo the paint job back early in the spring to cover over the white star on the front hood and paint the rest in a speckled camouflage pattern, which of course Maury had to match up with the Normandy 1944 look, so it was less easy to spot them from the air.