HOMELAND: Falling Down (Part 1 of the HOMELAND Series) (5 page)

Cole’s training took over. He yelled, “Is anybody hurt?”

More silence.

Cole and his men shared a knowing look and ran outside to see where the explosion came from. They spotted a column of black smoke rising to the north.

Hicks asked, “What’s over there?”

Cole answered, “The state capitol.”

“Did a gas main blow?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it.”

They went back inside.

“What’s happening?” Someone screamed.

The restaurant manager muted the TV, stood on a chair and said, “Everybody! Just calm down. We don’t know what’s going on, but panicking won’t help. We all have to stay calm.” Satisfied with the group’s reaction, he stepped down and unmuted the television.

The news anchors reported, “— reports of more attacks. We now go to traffic reporter, Stormy Evans, live in Nashville.”

The video switched to footage taken from a helicopter hovering above Tennessee’s smoldering capitol building.

“Thanks Jim,” said the reporter in the chopper. “Exactly what happened just moments ago is still not known. Reports are confusing at this point. Some witnesses claim that a small airplane crashed into the side of the building. Others say it was a gas leak. Some are even calling it a missile attack.”

The north face of the structure was caved in. Cars and debris scattered out from the center of the explosion site, strewn about like autumn leaves.

“Whatever happened, the damage is severe. I can only guess at the number of killed and injured down there right now.”

The camera panned to a cluster of a hundred or so people across the street to the south. “These are the Fairness Now protestors that, as you know, set up camp here days ago. I can’t tell if any of them were harmed. They were on the opposite side of the building from the explosion, but debris could still have hit them.” The picture zoomed in on the group. “There is a lot of activity in their ranks. They seem agitated. I still don’t see any casualties.”

He zoomed in closer. “They…they’re cheering.” The reporter was aghast. “I don’t believe it. They are actually cheering.”

Cole turned to his men. “Let’s go.”

The car radio was full of reports of attacks across the country. At least a dozen places ranging from government buildings to shopping malls and elementary school events were hit. There were also reports of roadside bombs exploding on the highway. All Cole knew was that they needed to get back to base ASAP. His instinct was confirmed when a mass text from battalion hit everybody’s phones at once after they merged onto Interstate Sixty-Five.

All leaves and passes cancelled. Report to BN HQ posthaste.

They called the staff duty desk. The line was busy. The hour drive felt like an eternity. Campbell was on lockdown when they arrived. It took an hour to get through security. They were almost turned away because the sticker on Cole’s Highlander had expired during the deployment. The MPs didn’t care that the interior smelled like a brewery. They only said, “Report directly to your battalion headquarters.”

They drove to battalion headquarters and checked in with the staff duty officer. Three soldiers manned the desk, busily answering phones as officers and NCOs hurried by.

Cole asked, “Any news?”

A young lieutenant said, “Places are being hit all over the country. Big places. Small places. It’s totally random. Beats all I ever seen.”

“What’s going on here?”

“Battalion formation at 2300 on the drill field. Don’t worry about uniforms.”

“Maybe the old man’ll have more for us then.”

The lieutenant shrugged. “Maybe.”

*****

11:00 PM

Cole stood in formation under the blaring lights of the drill field. At least a third of the battalion was absent; already bugged out on leave and too far gone to get back in time. His own squad was two men short. What remained was the most pathetic group he’d ever seen. Hundreds of bleary eyed troopers stood at attention. About half were in uniform. Others wore everything from pajamas to club duds, arriving too late to change clothes. Some swayed like blades of grass blown by a whisky breeze. Others stomped their feet to stay warm in the chilled night air as their steamy breath puffed into fleeting clouds. The gathering looked more like a college fraternity than an infantry unit. The air was thick with the odors of cheap cologne, booze, and puke. The aroma stoked Cole’s own nausea. At least it took his mind off his throbbing head and self-induced heartburn.

What the hell was I thinking?

He should’ve known not to go for the hot wings after months of army rations. They wouldn’t be any easier going out, either. He made a mental note to put his toilet paper in the freezer as Lieutenant Colonel Lee stepped to the front of the battalion to address the unit.

The commander was tall and slim with sharp, Korean-American features. His jet-black hair was cut close to his copper skin. His uniform was immaculate, as usual. His posture rigid as steel. His almond-shaped, warrior eyes were even more fierce than usual.

“The President is dead,” Lee announced.

The battalion erupted in disbelief, but Lee’s stern countenance restored order quickly.

He continued. “We are now on alert. The base is sealed. Those of you with families outside the wire have twenty-four hours to get them in the gates. Quarters are being arranged for them as we speak. After that, no one goes in or out. No word yet on what our role will be, but know that we will be busy.”

A soldier yelled, “Who did it?”

“I don’t know.”

Another called out. “Who’s in charge?”

“The Vice-President is critically wounded and probably won’t make it. All directives are coming from the Secretary of Homeland Security. We are under a national state of emergency.”

Cole studied the nervous assembly under the glaring lights. Every eye was glued to the commander. Even the swayers had miraculously sobered up. Murmurs rose from the formation.

“At ease!” Colonel Lee commanded. Everyone obeyed. “Next formation is here at 0600. See to your families. Stay close. Be ready. And get some rest. You’re going to need it. Fall out!”

Cole turned to one of his fellow squad leaders, Sergeant Reyes. “Need a hand getting your family on base?”

“Gracias, but it’s already done. Found ‘em a good spot in temporary housing. My guys are gonna help me get some stuff from the house mañana.”

Cole’s men lived in the barracks. Too young and dumb for marriage. He was glad for that. “Good. I’ll stay here with the guys. If you need anything…”

“I know. Thanks.”

Walking back to his quarters, Cole pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialed his parents.

“Hi Mom. Sorry to call so late. Just wanted to check on you and Dad.”

“We’re fine, sweetie. Just watching the news and worrying about you. Are you okay?”

“I’m good. I guess you’ve heard.”

“I can’t believe they shot him.”

“We’re on alert. Nobody can leave base, so I won’t be home anytime soon.”

“Then we’ll come to you.”

“No. The base is locked down after tomorrow. Nobody in or out.”

“I’m afraid for you. Dad pretends he’s not, but I know he is.”

“I’ll be fine. You two take care of each other.”

“Don’t worry about us.”

“I was in Nashville. The grocery stores are crazy. I didn’t realize how bad it was back here in the States. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We didn’t want to worry you.”

“You need to stock up on necessities. I’m afraid it’ll get a lot worse before it gets better.”

“You know your dad. He’s got plenty of food and everything else squirreled away ‘just in case.’ He’s putting together a care package for you. We’ll get it to you somehow.”

“Mom, you don’t need to do that.”

“We know you haven’t been paid in months. You need things and I have to take care of my baby.”

Cole knew better than to argue with her. His mother sounded just like he remembered as a child. The hardened veteran melted away revealing the boy beneath. “Thanks, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“I gotta go. Be careful and give Dad my love. I’ll call again when I can.”

“We will. Be safe, sweetie.”

Cole spent the next hour and a half getting himself and his men ready for whatever morning might bring then collapsed into his bunk.

*****

Saturday, October 31
^st

05:00 AM

Cole woke to the shrill beeping of his alarm clock. He checked the time through bloodshot eyes. He groaned and turned on the TV to catch up on the news while he got ready. The banner ‘President Dead, Capitol Aflame’ filled the bottom of the screen. An attractive woman at the news desk was interviewing some empty suit. Cole figured the guy didn’t know anything. If he did, he sure as hell wouldn’t be on at five in the morning.

The broadcast was interrupted as Cole shuffled to the bathroom. The scene shifted to a newsman standing in front of the burning Capitol Building. He looked to be around forty, handsome with black hair and olive complexion. Cole recognized him. It was Eduardo Garcia, one of those glory hound war correspondents. Always in the middle of the fighting. Getting in the way. Making a name for himself at the expense of the troops. Writing his credentials with their blood. Cole ran into him a few times in Syria.

Garcia began his report. “There is breaking news in these gloomy, predawn hours. Firstly, we have an updated casualty list from the savage attack in the Capitol mere hours ago: The Vice-President’s condition is reported as critical, but we have no details about the exact nature of his wounds. The President, as you know, is dead. So are four Supreme Court Justices, at least fifty members of Congress, and all the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Apparently, one of the first explosive devices went off in the middle of where the military leaders were seated. In addition to these casualties, there are scores of wounded and missing. It will likely take days to get a definitive list of the living and the dead.”

He continued. “One notable name not on that list is Tennessee Congresswoman and leading Presidential candidate Martha Jefferson, who was still recovering at her home near Nashville at the time of the attack. As you will recall, she was the victim of a vicious assassination attempt five days ago. We were unable to reach the Congresswoman for comment, but her campaign headquarters issued a statement calling the attack a ‘senseless and appalling act of terror.’”

The camera zoomed in on Eduardo. “As the nation sits in shock over this brutal and bloody assault on our nation’s leadership, we all ask the same question: Why? The debate grows louder by the minute. Some say radical Islam is to blame. The usual suspects, such as Al Queda, are at the top of the list. Others claim it was right-wing extremists. One such group, the American Constitutional Front has been named as a group of interest.”

An image of a yellow ‘Don’t Tread on Me’ flag appeared on the screen.

“But at this hour, no one knows for certain. The only thing everyone can agree on is that this attack was well planned, highly complex, and executed with extreme violence and ruthlessness.”

The image switched to a still shot of the White House.

“A formal statement will be delivered later today by the Secretary of Homeland Security, Karl Tophet. You may recall from earlier reports that Secretary Tophet has assumed command of the federal government under the recently amended Emergency Powers Act. When asked about any other information that might be in the secretary’s speech, his staff would only say that Tophet is prepared to provide the strong and decisive leadership our country needs in this terrible time. I know I speak for all Americans when I say that I hope he will do just that. This is America’s Newsman, Eduardo Garcia, live from Washington.”

America’s Newsman.

That’s what he called himself. The troops called him the Reaper. He only came around when someone died or was about to die. It looked like he finally ate enough sand to earn a cushy job back in the States.

“And death came with him,” Cole muttered to himself.

The beauty and the suit returned to the screen. The blonde asked the suit, “What do you know about the American Constitutional Front?”

The suit answered, “Absolutely nothing. I have worked in the intelligence field for almost twenty years and this is the first I’ve heard of them.”

“What about similar groups.”

“That’s what is so odd about this. Constitutionalist groups generally promote rule of law above all else. This behavior is antithetical to everything they stand for. It doesn’t make sen—”

The feed suddenly switched to another desk and a breaking story.

The newsreader got right to it. “This just in. The Department of Homeland Security reports that Congresswoman Martha Jefferson is now wanted for questioning in regard to the recent attack on our nation’s capital…”

Cole turned off the TV and pulled on his uniform. It was time to go.

This morning’s formation looked much more military than the last, although the battalion was still noticeably understrength. It was even colder now than before. Looking east, Cole saw dawn glowing faintly on the frosty horizon. He resisted the urge to stomp his numbing feet. It didn’t do to show weakness in front of the men, no matter how small it might be.

“Battalion! AttenSHUN!”

Colonel Lee took his position in front of his troops. “No orders have been issued and no information has been given that hasn’t already been in the news, but we remain on alert. As such, we will continue to prepare for whatever comes our way. Company commanders, you will ensure your equipment, your men, and you are ready for anything from humanitarian missions to full combat operations.”

He looked into the eyes of his men.

“Now you know everything I know. Be ready to move. It could be hours. It could be days. Company commanders will meet in my HQ at zero nine hundred. Fall out!”

The battalion had a week’s worth of mission prep to do in a single day. Cole pushed his men and himself hard. Busy hands left little energy for fear and gossip, but soldiers were never too busy to pass along the latest scuttlebutt. Whispered rumors darted from soldier to soldier like clandestine communiqués burning across a cammo telegraph line.