Forsaking Home (The Survivalist Series) (19 page)

S
arge stood before the assembled noncommissioned officers. “Everyone clear on their assignments?” He was answered by a row of a half-dozen nodding heads.

“Remember, we want to do this without firing a shot. Shooting is the last thing we want to do, but if it comes to it, pour it to them and attain fire superiority quickly. We want to avoid civilian casualties—that’s a priority. It won’t do us any good to free the camp if we’re killing the very people we’re there to help. We roll out at 0600 tomorrow morning, any questions?”

He was met with silence.

“All right, then get your trucks in order. Make sure your squads are squared away and be ready in the morning.”

As the crowd broke up, Sarge joined Sheffield and Livingston.

“I hope this works,” Sheffield said.

“It will if everyone does their jobs right, especially you. They’ve go to buy into the fact that you’re an army officer sent to assist them.”

As Sheffield was thinking that over, Vance walked up. “Captain, what do you want me to do tomorrow?”

“You stay here and keep an eye on the folks we’re leaving behind. Once we take the camp down, we’ll send someone back. We’ll move everyone over there, where we can have shelter and access to supplies.”

Vance looked unhappy. “What, just ’cause I don’t have a black rifle, I can’t go?”

“The army hasn’t carried lever actions for some time now,” Sarge said with grin, looking at Vance’s .357 lever gun.

Vance laughed. “I guess not. Fine, I don’t mind sticking around here.”

“Besides, you gotta keep an eye on them three we got trussed up over there,” Sarge said.

Vance looked in the direction where the prisoners were being kept. “No problem, me and a couple of the guys will keep watch. I’ve already talked with them, and we’ll split it up into shifts.”

“Good, be careful with ’em, don’t take any guff from ’em.”

Vance smiled. “Oh, we won’t,” he said as he headed off toward the camp.

“All right, let’s make sure everyone has their shit together,” Sarge said, then looked at Ted and Mike. “You two make sure all the trucks are ready to go in the morning.” The guys nodded and headed off to where the trucks were being staged.

Sarge went off to get his own gear ready. He would be riding in one of the lead Hummers with the officers. The rest of day was a flurry of activity with everyone getting ready to move. It wasn’t until late in the evening, when things finally started to wind down, that the camp got quiet. The NCOs broke up with their respective squads to go over the plan again. Sarge stood in front of the CP tent looking out over the numerous small fires that were burning, each one representing a squad.

The Guard unit was made up of engineers. While they were trained for combat, it was never their primary mission, though the combat requirements of the various Gulf wars and Afghanistan meant that nearly all of them had seen combat. For many of them, their orders were to act as if they belonged there, which wasn’t hard in theory. But the idea of rolling into a FEMA facility and facing the unknown kept many of them awake that night.

Sarge was up at 0400. After dressing and putting his gear on, he headed out to look over the convoy. For the most part the camp was still asleep. Only the sentries were up and moving. Sarge nodded as he passed them. Each of them had a hard look about them, trying to steel their nerves for what lay ahead.

A little after 0500, Ted and Mike found Sarge leaning on the hood of the Hummer he would be riding in. They joined him and stood together as the camp began to come alive, silently observing the activity in front of them. The air was heavy with morning dew, giving everything a clammy feel. By 0530 the camp was fully awake, with people moving all over. Wives were hugging their husbands, who were about to leave on the mission, and in a few cases, those roles were reversed.

At 0600, Sarge stood at the door of his Hummer, looking back along the column. It wasn’t very long—eight large trucks and five Hummers—but it looked impressive enough. Diesel exhaust hung low around the line of vehicles. With everyone loaded, it was time to move out. Mike, Ian, Jamie, and Perez were in the lead Hummer, while Sarge, Sheffield, and Ted were in the number two truck. After performing a quick radio check with each truck, they started to move out.

Five miles of dirt roads took them from the highland pines down into low oak hammocks and swamp lands before reaching the paved road. The route had been memorized by every member of the unit: one left turn and one right turn, then the camp would be on the left several miles down the road. Sarge watched the scenery as it passed by, smiling to himself. Unlike many of the others, he was at ease and not even thinking of what lay ahead.

At Highway 19, they turned right for the last leg of the ride.

“You ready, Captain?” Sarge asked Sheffield.

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Just remember, for the purposes of this mission, we’re on the same side as they are. Don’t look at them as the opposition—at least not yet.”

Sheffield nodded and pulled out the drawing the guys had made of the camp. It was going to be one of the best pieces of evidence they’d offer to Mr. Tabor to prove their “allegiance.” Despite his efforts to remain calm, Sheffield’s stomach was in knots. He wasn’t certain this was going to work, and they’d be inside the perimeter of the camp with nowhere to maneuver if it didn’t.

As they approached the sign that read
NAVAL BOMBING RANGE OCALA
, Sarge slipped his Kevlar helmet on. This too was part of the ruse—they had to look the part of an army unit, and his old ratty 101st Airborne hat wasn’t exactly regulation.

“All right, Ian, nice and slow till you see their gate,” Sarge said into his mic.

Ian turned onto the access road to the range, slowing down so those behind him could catch up. As they eased down the road, the burned-out bus came into view.

“That your doing?” Sarge shouted up to Ted, who was manning the SAW in the turret.

Ted smiled and nodded back. Sarge shook his head but couldn’t help but smile. Shortly after the gate came into view, three men in front of the bunker became visible.

Sarge looked at Sheffield and clapped his hands. “It’s game time! You ready?”

Looking quite the opposite, he nodded.

They halted the trucks and Sheffield, Livingston, Sarge, and Ted all got out and approached the now six men gathered at the bunker. They were carrying on a lively conversation amongst themselves. Ted kept a close eye on them as they were all armed, though none of them attempted to raise a weapon. In the lead Hummer, Mike kept the SAW pointed in their general direction, though not directly at them as he didn’t want to instill fear. Upon reaching the men, Sarge waited for Sheffield to speak first. It was important that the ranking officer be the first to say anything.

Sheffield nodded at the men, who simply stared back. “Gentlemen, I’m Captain Sheffield. I need to talk to your CO, Tabor.”

The six men looked at one another, unsure of how to respond. They had clearly never been told what to do if the military rolled up and started talking. In fact, the only thing they’d been told of the army was that they would attack—this soft approach completely threw them.

Sarge, being the diplomat he was, was growing impatient with their bewildered silence.

“Get on the horn to your CO now, dammit! It wasn’t a fucking request!” Sarge shouted. The sudden outburst startled the men, causing some of them to visibly jump. Two of them quickly disappeared into the bunker.

 • • • 

Tabor was at his desk going through the reams of paperwork piled on it. Even after the world ended, paperwork continued.

“Main gate to Alpha One.”

Tabor looked at the radio.
Why in the hell are they calling me?
He picked up the handset on his desk and punched a couple of buttons. “Ed, see what those idiots at the gate want, would ya?” Then he picked up the mic to his radio. “Stand by.”

“Sure thing,” Ed said. He left his office and climbed on an ATV and headed for the gate. As the gate came into view, he was shocked at what he saw: a line of Hummers and trucks and several men standing at the gate in army uniforms.

He quickly dismounted and stepped up to the group. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“You Tabor?” Sheffield asked.

“No, I’m his deputy commander, Ed Mooreland.”

Sheffield took a step forward. “I’m Captain Sheffield. I need to speak with Tabor immediately.”

Ed, just like the men at the gate, was unsure of how to respond. “Uh, what’s this in reference to?”

Sheffield looked at the black-clad men beside Ed. “It’s a private security matter of utmost urgency.”

Ed looked around nervously. “Uh, all right, you guys follow me in. Just leave the rest of your people here.”

Sheffield nodded and they got back in the Hummer. Ted was up in the turret and got a bird’s-eye view of the camp as they drove through. They drew a number of looks from the surprised camp staff, who stopped and gawked at the passing truck.

Ted surveyed the camp as they passed through it, paying particular attention to the detainees. Groups of detainees were doing physical labor, everything from filling sandbags to erecting additional tents. The scene was always the same: black-clad men watching over them with guns at their side.
Hu, field boss
, Ted thought. As they passed through, the detainees glanced at the vehicle sideways, not rising from their toil. The DHS troopers, on the other hand, gawked, pointing and gesturing amongst themselves.

“Well, we’re in,” Livingston muttered.

“Yeah, went better than I thought,” Sheffield said.

“Remember, Captain, just like we discussed: these guys are clueless for the most part. If we convince Tabor, the rest will fall in line,” Sarge said.

“Right. Have you noticed all the people working?” Sheffield asked.

“Yeah, seems like everyone’s busy,” Livingston replied.

“Yeah, they’re busy all right. Hard not to be when there’s a man with a gun standing over you,” Sarge remarked.

Sheffield looked out the window. “I noticed that every group has more than one guard standing over them.”

“You think those folks are out there working like that by choice? Did you see the water jugs?” Sarge asked.

“And a cup tied to it. I’m sure they’re having to ask for a drink of water. Probably gotta ask for permission to piss too,” Sarge said.

“That just ain’t right. Grown men having to ask for permission to take a piss,” Livingston said.

“Or women.” Sarge waved a hand at the window. “I’ve seen plenty women out there working as well.”

“I understand now why this needs to be done. There is no liberty. What they’re doing here is obviously a forced labor situation. I can’t even imagine what the rest of their day-to-day is like,” Sheffield said.

“Well, if all goes well, soon we’ll find out,” Sarge said.

The ATV stopped in front of a line of shipping containers converted into offices. Ed climbed off and waited as Sarge and his crew exited the Hummer. He looked at them, wanting to tell them to leave their weapons in the truck, but glanced up at Ted on the SAW and changed his mind.

Ed stepped up to an office and rapped on the door frame. “Hey, Chuck, you need to come out here.”

Tabor looked up from the reports he was reading on his desk. “What is it, Ed? I’m busy.”

“No, you really need to come to the conference room,” Ed said, stepping aside so Tabor could see the men in ACU uniforms.

Tabor practically leapt from his chair and came around his desk.

“Captain Sheffield, this is Charles Tabor, our camp commander,” Ed said.

“Mr. Tabor, good to meet you. You got somewhere we can talk in private?” Sheffield said as he offered his hand.

Tabor shook his hand, uncertain of what was going on. “Uh, sure, over here,” he said, gesturing to the conference room, then looked at Ed with a “WTF” look. Ed shrugged, as he was just as confused by the appearance of the United States Army as Tabor was.

Sheffield glanced at Sarge, who nodded. They filed in and sat down.

“What can we do for you, Captain?” Tabor asked.

“We’ve got intel that indicates there are elements of your security force plotting to overthrow the camp. These elements may be aligned with guerrilla forces outside the camp.” Sheffield delivered the comment exactly as they’d rehearsed.

Tabor and Ed were clearly shocked by the information and sat in silence.

“My security force, Captain?” Tabor finally said.

“Yes, sir,” Sarge said as he unfolded the drawing of the camp. “We captured some individuals and found this on them. Through interrogations, we learned of the plot, but we don’t know how many of your people are involved in the plan.” He slid the drawing across the table to Tabor.

Tabor picked it up and he and Ed examined it as Sarge continued, “As you can see, there are facilities noted there that could only come from someone with inside information.”

Tabor looked at Ed, then laid the drawing on the table. “Captain, you will forgive me for being skeptical. But as you know there are some, how should I put it,
issues
between the armed forces and the DHS.”

“I understand that, and I assure you, this is real. Some of us are still patriots. We’re here to help you put this down before it gets out of hand. We’re not sure if this is an attempt on just your camp or if it’s part of a larger plan to take down other camps as well. That’s why we need to identify the actors and interrogate them for additional information,” Sheffield said.

Inwardly Sarge smiled.
Damn fine acting, Captain, damn fine.

“Have you had any issues with any of your people lately?” Sarge asked, baiting them in to bringing up the three missing people currently being held back at the Guard camp.

Ed looked over at Tabor. “Might explain those missing personnel.”

Sarge seized the moment. “You got missing people?”

“Yeah, we had three go missing recently. They were on the rear gate and just disappeared,” Tabor said.

“That’s not good. Were there any known issues with them?” Livingston asked.