Invasion: California Read online

  She slings jokes into my teeth in my hour of doom. I will remember this.

  The Guardian Inspector stood. Wei sat in his chair, staring helplessly at her, wishing he could order her stripped and secured to an informant table. He would spend days on her, days of agony for this mocking bitch.

  “Help him,” the Guardian Inspector told her enforcers.

  Each man slid his carbine into a large holster. Then, as one, they came around the desk, putting their iron-strong hands on him. With unnecessary brutality, they dragged Wei out of the chair, out of the office and propelled him down the corridor. He stumbled his way toward a penal battalion, one that would no doubt soon see military action.

  LAREDO, TEXAS

  Colonel Valdez sat in a dark room, smoking a cigar. When the glowing tip brightened as he inhaled, it showed hard, dark eyes and a pitted forehead. As a young man he had contracted chicken pox, and it had ravaged his features. The rage in his heart over his daughter’s death and dismemberment had changed to ice, and like a glacier, he remorselessly ground toward his goal in his mind.

  He would have to leave Laredo soon. He seldom stayed in one locale for more than two days. The Chinese wanted him, but not nearly as badly as the new puppet President of Mexico did. The war of assassins between them continued despite the Americans and the Chinese. It was a ruthless contest between warring tribes, and Valdez had the weaker hand. Yet he had survived the SNP due to cunning, ruthlessness and the ability to instill fierce loyalty in his people.

  “Maria,” he whispered.

  The Chinese had sent him her parts piece by piece. He would make them pay. He would discover who had done this thing and he would do terrible things to them. The Americans had come to him earlier, begging for his best man. Instead, he had given them his daughter, because she had known the countryside better than any of his men did. He had told the CIA man that he wanted his daughter back. Oh, the CIA man had assured him she would be safe because America was sending its best men with her. He had been a fool to believe that or believe they would take care of his daughter. He had learned the man’s name. Yes. Paul Kavanagh the Marine had flown free, leaving his daughter behind to face the torturers.

  Now Valdez waited for critical news concerning Kavanagh’s whereabouts.

  He took the cigar out of his mouth and rolled it between his fingers. Four years ago, he had renamed his ragtag guerillas the Free Mexico Army. He had fled to America for sanctuary, although he’d continued to send assassins and guerillas into his native land. Surprisingly, his army had grown from Mexican nationals in America and from those escaping the Chinese prison across the Rio Grande. American advisors had trained his men until he had over sixty thousand soldiers on U.S. soil. America desperately needed allies and needed trained fighters. His sixty thousand made him a force, and the Americans hoped that someday he could incite a Mexican uprising and return to his country as its new leader. Because of that, the Americans catered to him on many issues. He had contacts among them and could learn hidden things, such as where they had put Paul Kavanagh.

  While inhaling, with the hot smoke tickling the back of his throat and the taste causing saliva to congeal, Valdez’s eyes burned like icy motes of hate. The CIA man had told him Marines never left their own on the battlefield. That was a lie, and people lied to Cesar Valdez at their peril.

  There was a knock on the door.

  “Yes,” Valdez said.

  The door creaked open and one-eyed Torres stared at him. Torres, the Oakland Raiders fan, looked like the football team’s logo, although minus the helmet. “The Marine is in California, Colonel,” Torres told him.

  “You are sure of this?” Valdez asked.

  “One hundred percent sure.”

  Valdez considered this, finally saying, “California is a large state.”

  Torres nodded, and his smile was grim. “The Marine is guarding a man from Washington who tours the front.”

  Valdez inhaled so the cigar glowed fiery, and he nodded. “The Chinese have snipers, yes?”

  “It is true,” Torres said.

  “Perhaps as this Washington man tours the front, Chinese snipers will kill him. It has happened before. Yes. I like it. The Marine guarding the Washington man—no one will care what happens to him if Chinese snipers kill the important one.”

  “And if the Americans learn we did this?” Torres asked.

  The cigar glowed once more. “The Americans failed to protect Maria. You know what happens when people fail me?”

  Torres nodded.

  “Send Romo,” the colonel said. “He is our best killer and he is near the bastard who failed my daughter. Forge a pass, allowing Romo to go where he pleases.”

  “The Americans are nervous, Colonel. Security has been tightening.”

  Valdez stared at Torres. The man looked down, nodding quickly. “It will be as you say, Colonel.”

  “I want Kavanagh’s head. If Romo cannot bring it to me, I want pictures of Kavanagh suffering brutally before he dies. I want to see a dagger planted in his eye, planted to the hilt.”

  Torres nodded once more.

  “Go. Do this. Then we leave Laredo tonight. I do not like the reports from Mexico. The Chinese in this sector are up to something.”

  “Yes, Colonel,” Torres said. He softly closed the door behind him.

  After several glows of the cigar, Valdez whispered in a voice few would have recognized. “Maria, my darling girl, I will avenge you and then I will free our country from the foreigner. This I vow to you, my child. This I vow by the Madonna.”

  -4-

  The Abyss

  LAREDO, TEXAS

  Sino-American Border Skirmish

  (NNI) In the early morning hours of May 17, a thunderous crashing boom awoke soldiers of the Free Mexico Army and General Kemp’s Fifth Corps.

  The Chinese claim American provocations have forced their hand. “It was an entry point for terrorists coming into allied land to commit murder and mayhem,” the Chinese ambassador said later. “We will defend the SNP Revolution, with brutal force, if we must. China, the entire Pan Asian Alliance and the South American Federation stand shoulder to shoulder with allied Mexico. American provocations must end here and now. Otherwise, China will act and end them through force of arms.”

  American artillery responded to the bombardment. According to embedded sources, Chinese counter-artillery erupted soon thereafter, creating considerable confusion among the Americans. The indications appear obvious. The Chinese have planned this artillery barrage thoughtfully and carefully, perhaps with a greater intent in mind.

  Considerable troop movement behind Chinese lines has heightened fear and worry in Laredo and in San Antonio, and, one would suspect, among higher American Command.

  “Is this the Big One?” soldiers are asking, and likely, many in the country are wondering the same thing.

  SAN YSIDRO, CALIFORNIA

  “What’s wrong, honey,” Cheri asked on the computer screen. “You look troubled. Are you in Texas, by any chance?”

  Paul shook his sweaty head. He wore regular body armor, with a combat helmet and assault rifle on the table beside the screen. He was Colonel Norman’s “bodyguard,” but had done precious little of that this past week. Mainly, he drove the colonel’s truck everywhere. It was a gray Dodge with reinforced sides, ballistic glass windshields and bullet-resistant tires. The man said he liked the truck’s comfort and this colonel seemed to get what he liked.

  Colonel Norman spent most of his time in conference with generals. Paul had never been in those meetings nor even stood near the door. He drove from one headquarter to another. A few times the colonel went on a sightseeing tour, with five Humvees of staff officers following behind the bouncing Dodge.

  “You look upset,” Cheri said. “Is it about the news?”

  Paul had heard about the Chinese artillery attack in Texas on the Fifth Corps there. The colonel had commented earlier that NNI’s writer had gotten it wrong. It hadn’t been a “barrage,�
�� but a “fire assault.” Barrages assisted defensive or offensive troops by providing a wall of fire, or there was a standing barrage of smoke shells or poison gas to screen or prevent enemy movement or observation. Near Laredo, the Chinese shells had targeted strongholds, fortifications and American artillery parks. It had been concentrated on targets for the obvious purpose of destruction. It implied an impending attack on Kemp’s Fifth Corps, which guarded the route from Laredo to San Antonio deeper in Texas.

  That had worried Colonel Norman. If the Chinese attacked in Texas, what were their plans along the SoCal border? It wasn’t adding up for the expert from Washington.

  Paul had listened to talk before the artillery attack in Texas. Colonel Norman and the SoCal generals were worried about the Chinese in their sector. According to scuttlebutt, Paul had learned the Chinese had expended too many drones along the border for it to simply be routine reconnaissance. Night traffic near the border had increased, too.

  Paul knew the veteran ground-pounders were telling each other it was another Chinese fake. The artillery fire-assault in Texas proved that, according to the vets. If anything big were going to happen, it would be in Texas. It made more strategic sense to happen there, anyway. If the Chinese broke through in Texas, they could possibly split the United States in two by driving deep into the flat American heartland. It was good attacking country because it was hard to defend, with no choke points. The vets here had agreed: the Chinese weren’t going to hit the strongest American defense: the SoCal Fortifications. No way, the Chinese were obviously probing for the soft spot in America’s underbelly.

  “Paul?” his wife asked, via the computer screen.

  While grinning at her, Paul noticed that Cheri had aged since the Alaskan War. They’d been separated during it, getting back together afterward. She had gained weight since that time, but Paul usually had trouble noticing. When he looked at her, he saw his wife as the small, beautiful woman with long dark hair and a gymnast’s grace he’d first married. She was still all that, but with more curves and sometimes with tired eyes. They looked puffy today, probably because of worry after reading about the Chinese provocation.

  It had been too long since he’d seen or talked with his wife. He knew she would be worried sick about him, so he’d taken the risk of calling her. This was BS, his driving a colonel around all week. If they wanted to jail him for this call with Cheri…let them. He’d had enough of playing chauffeur to a closed-mouthed DC staff officer.

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  “I haven’t heard from you for weeks. I was beginning to worry.”

  Yeah, he’d guessed right. News of Chinese military action had terrified her. It hardly mattered what front it had taken place on, either. That it had happened is what mattered to his wife.

  Of course, he wasn’t supposed to be talking to her now, but the comm-shack was empty. It was small, with three tables crowded together and piled with equipment, including a small refrigerator. He’d checked earlier and found rows of blue Pepsi cans and a single M&Ms package with a torn corner and half the candies missing. Paul had said he was coming here to get out of the heat. It was like the old days out there in the nineties. The colonel had ducked into a bunker to hold yet another conference, this time with the commanding general of the John J. Montgomery Freeway: Interstate 5. The freeway went all the way to the Mexican border three miles from here.

  “I’ve been busy,” Paul told his wife.

  “You’ve been reassigned then?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Are you in a safe place at least?” She frowned. “I’ve been watching the news about the Texas attack. The TV shows huge flashes on the horizon. It’s the Chinese guns booming. I don’t know why, but we’re all on high alert here. Maybe they think the entire border will erupt.”

  Paul frowned.

  “I know, I know,” Cheri said, “you’re going to tell me we’ve been through high alerts at least once a month for the last two years. But this one feels different. People are acting serious. I’m seeing that on TV. Oh. Maybe you haven’t heard, but the Germans have massed hovers off the Cuban coast in a war game.”

  “You’re paying too much attention to the news, honey. It’s not like you.”

  “We’re scared,” Cheri said. “The neighbors are talking, wondering what we should do if the Chinese really do attack. What do you think, honey, should we be worried, or is the attack going to happen in Texas?”

  Paul rubbed his chin. For several years now, the Chinese had lined up on the border, but no guns had opened up like had happened outside Laredo. If the Chinese attacked in Texas, would they also attack in California?

  Cheri and his thirteen-year-old son Mike lived in Greater LA, in Newhall near Magic Mountain. Newhall was at the northern tip of LA, almost to the Grapevine, the mountain pass to Bakersfield on the other side. If Texas showed this was the Big One—the beginning of a Chinese invasion—LA would eventually become a prime target.

  “Maybe you should visit your mother,” Paul said.

  Cheri’s eyes widened. “In Colorado?” she asked. “You know we can’t afford the gas. I checked, by the way. Since the news, it’s already two dollars more per gallon.”

  “Well—”

  “Tell me what’s wrong, honey. Is the alert accurate this time? Has the war finally started but none of us realize it yet?”

  “Maybe.”

  Her mouth firmed. “Paul, where are you?”

  “I’m not supposed to tell you.”

  “You’d better tell me this instant. If you’re near there, in Texas, I mean…”

  His bitterness came bubbling up and he began to say more than he should. Besides, a few artillery shots in Texas wasn’t World War III. Playing chauffer down here, it sucked and he hated it.

  “They’re screwing with me, Cheri. I don’t know what’s up, exactly. I’m near the border and—”

  “In Texas?” she asked.

  “No, I’m in California near Tijuana.”

  “Oh, so you’re close. A couple hours driving and you could be home.”

  “I suppose.”

  “You don’t want to come home?” she asked.

  “I’d love to, baby. But they’re not about to let me go sightseeing. They’re screwing with me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s complicated. But I’m serious about you leaving. Cash out our savings and head to Colorado. I’ve been hearing strange things down here. This colonel, he’s a special ace from D.C.”

  “The Chinese are attacking in SoCal?” Cheri whispered.

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. Maybe it’s happening everywhere, in Texas, too. I don’t know. But High Command must be worried about the Chinese, enough anyway so this ace is here to make sure everything is ready for them.”

  “Hey!” a tech corporal shouted. “Who are you talking to?”

  Paul looked up. A scrawny kid of a soldier held the door open, letting out the shack’s cool air. This was one of the few air-conditioned places in Ninth Division’s Headquarters.

  “Take a hike,” Paul told him. “This is a private conversation.”

  The skinny corporal sputtered. “This is my shack. You can’t tell me what to do. And if you’re talking to civilians—that’s a court martial offense.”

  Paul grinned at the corporal. It made the kid gulp nervously. Maybe the tech saw something in Paul he didn’t like.

  “I’m getting my lieutenant,” the corporal said.

  “Good,” Paul said. “Run along.”

  The corporal glared at him, stepped back and slammed the door.

  “What was that about?” Cheri asked.

  “Can’t talk long, honey,” Paul said. He shouldn’t be talking to her, but he’d wanted to calm her and he’d had enough BS. He was sick of it and he was worried. “I want you to listen carefully. Is Mike home?”

  “No. He’s at school.”

  Paul scowled.

  It made Cheri pale as her sma
ll hand flew to her mouth. “Is it really happening? Are the neighbors right?”

  All the little things he’d heard, the colonel’s worry, the generals acting weird and now this softening up destruction in Texas—it jelled for Paul then. “I think it is,” he said.

  “Why aren’t they telling us? All the talking heads are saying to remain calm. They’re saying that artillery fire like what’s going on in Texas without any Chinese saturation bombing means it must be a misunderstanding.”

  “It’s about panic, I guess. They don’t want a mass exodus from SoCal clogging up the freeways.”

  “Are the Chinese monitoring you?” Cheri asked.

  President Sims had executive-ordered all kind of new laws on communications and dealings with the enemy. Sims had taken the growing chaos of these past twenty years and tried to instill greater discipline into the country. He’d raised militia armies to help beef the forces facing the more numerous enemy. The emergency powers he’d acquired—Cheri must realize he was taking a risk today by talking to her. But that couldn’t be helped now.

  “Empty the account—”

  “You listen to me, soldier,” Cheri said. “I want you to listen real good.”

  Paul’s heart ached. He wanted to hug his wife. He wanted to kiss her, to feel her under him as they made love.

  “I miss you,” he whispered.

  She nodded, but her features had become businesslike. “I want your attention, mister.”

  “Yeah?” he asked.

  “Paul, please. You have to listen to me. You promised Mike and me that you would come home.”

  “Don’t worry, sweets.”

  “I am worried. You’re down there on the border. If this thing in Texas blows up, it might rage like an out-of-control forest fire. The entire border could erupt with war and you would be in the middle of it.”

  “I know how to take care of myself.”