Invasion: Colorado (48 page)

“You are like a brother to me,” Tian was saying. “I wish you well.”

“I…I wish you well, First Rank.”

“You are my best friend, Zhu.”

“You are also my best friend.”

“Ah, Zhu, what a strange thing life is. I did not realize how much I wanted to live until this moment. Don’t you want to live?”

“Not at the price of dishonor,” Zhu said.

“Is this honor?”

“Yes!” Zhu said. “We are White Tigers. We are the greatest soldiers in the world. We have lived well, with honor and with pride. I am happy to perish well, fighting the enemy with every particle of my strength.”

“They picked the right man to be a White Tiger. I will miss you.”

Zhu blinked rapidly, finding that his eyes were wet. The moisture leaked out of the corners and streaked his temples. His chest felt so terribly hollow. He wished he could live. But this was the price of being the greatest soldier, a White Tiger. One had to be willing to lay down his life for his country. This was China’s hour of greatness. His country called upon him to destroy the dreaded tanks that annihilated his fellow warriors.

They were more blooms in the nearing distance. Nine great vehicles in a line stopped everything sent at them. As the helo closed, more explosions occurred all around the Behemoths. It was most incredible.

“Launch!” their pilot shouted.

Zhu shoved up for what would likely be the last time in his life. He engaged his jetpack and lifted at exactly the right angle. A moment later, an enemy shell obliterated the battle-taxi. It took half his squad with it. They had been too slow in exiting.

From ten meters above the ground, First Rank Zhu flew at the great tanks. Concussions in the air shook him as he closed. More Eagle flyers tumbled from the air.

“Tian?” Zhu radioed. He did not get an answer. Tian must be dead. The astrologer had been wrong. It didn’t matter. Zhu’s eyes shined and he flew at the tanks.

He dropped another few meters. And then he gave his jetpack full thrust. Artillery rained on the tanks. Cruise missiles came down. How could nine tanks stop so much at one time?

Then an explosion knocked a Behemoth tank onto its side.

Zhu shouted wildly, the sound reverberating in his helmet. His heart beat with excitement. He was terrified. He was alive. He snarled and activated the mine strapped to his chest.

“I am First Rank,” he said to himself.

Zhu closed as shrapnel rattled against his armor. The last Eagle flyers with him went down, plowing into the snow. Only First Rank Zhu continued. He had practiced long hours to become the best. He flew, taking another hit that breached his armor so a hole appeared in his stomach and fluids leaked out. He felt his strength oozing from him. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered now but the hulk of steel before him.

Zhu Peng, White Tiger First Rank, struck the Behemoth tank. The impact ignited his mine, and it blew a hole into the main compartment, killing the entire crew and destroying the greatest battlefield weapon on either side.

FORWARD EDGE OF THE BATTLE AREA, COLORADO

Stan Higgins reluctantly ordered a retreat. The latest enemy attack had broken through the defensive fire, destroying three Behemoths and four battlewagons.

He had five operational Behemoths left, and one more that could fire defensively. After the latest mass assault, he didn’t believe he had enough firepower to keep the Chinese off balance.

Of the five tanks left, three of the force cannons had lost their fine calibration. They could hit close objects, but not the miles-long distant enemy.

As the Behemoths backed up, retreating at speed as friendly artillery laid down thick, anti-thermal clouds, he judged the flank attack a success, at least while it had lasted.

The Pan-Asian Alliance Tenth Army had ceased to exist as a fighting formation. The Fifteenth had stalled. The new Sleeper mines had done some damage to it. Mainly, however, the Chinese were now out of position and would need time to redeploy.

Already, elements from American Second Tank Army raced for the empty trenches facing what was left of PAA Army Group A. Their encounter with the southern Chinese had been decisive.

Stan retreated, dragging two hulks of Behemoths with him. The others he left on the battlefield.

The remaining super-tanks would need a lot of repair to fix them back up to full efficiency. But it appeared right now that they had more than fulfilled their role as America’s saviors. They had blunted the Chinese breakthrough attempt.

The question remained, though. How was Jake doing? Was his boy still alive?

Stan sat in his commander’s chair, too tired for words.

-13-

Readjustments

GENESSE PARK, COLORADO

Corporal Jake Higgins trudged along I-70. In the distance behind were the ruins of Greater Denver.

The bulk of the Chinese Army had pulled out several days ago. The remnants in the ruins shot at Jake and the others, but it was desultory fire. The danger came from sporadic artillery barrages.

“Incoming!” the Lieutenant shouted.

Jake sprinted off the freeway and hit the snow, hugging the ground. Shells roared overhead and slammed against the Earth. Jake felt the tremors and relaxed. From endless weeks, he knew the shells hadn’t landed near enough to hurt him.

“They’re taking revenge against us,” the Lieutenant said.

Jake looked up. Everyone around them was flat. They waited for more salvos. More didn’t come this time. The Chinese fired here and there at random, seemingly trying to catch soldiers by surprise. It was a petty way to make war, going for more wounded to make life miserable for the Americans. Like the others around him, Jake dragged himself to his feet and continued walking.

After a little while, Jake trudged past freshly killed soldiers. Companions dug graves for them.

“That’s lousy luck,” Goose said.

Jake nodded. After the endless weeks in the city, surviving flame-throwers, grenades, sniper fire, artillery and bombs, and now to die as they marched for freedom, it was rotten luck.

What a thing, Jake decided, his thoughts bouncing all over the place today. He’d survived the encirclement in Amarillo, Texas this summer. He’d survived the harrowing trek to Colorado and now it looked like he might survive the siege of Denver. If they reached Idaho Springs, they should be safe until the next venture. It would be nice if they could stop the Chinese advance for once and push
them
back.

Four hours later, Jake, Goose and the Lieutenant sat around a small sterno flame that burned under their tin pot. They heated a can of pork and beans, a delicacy after their nearly starvation diet.

Darkness fell around them, and Chinese artillery boomed in the distance. The flashes played off the low clouds. One flash highlighted a cloud that looked like an arrow pointed back at the enemy.

“They don’t want to let us go,” the Lieutenant observed.

Jake stirred the pork and beans. The aroma was killing him. He was hungry and his stomach ached.

“You know what I think,” the Lieutenant said.

Jake shook his head as he kept his eyes on the beans. When it began to bubble, they would be ready.

“We’re the ones who broke their back,” the Lieutenant said.

“We’ve lived like rats for months,” Jake said. “I don’t know how that broke anyone’s back.”

“I don’t mean just you and me. I mean all the ordinary Americans who picked up a gun and joined the Army, the Militia or the partisans. Here in this hellhole, it was all of us working together. The Army has better equipment, but we held just the same.”

Jake thought about the earliest battle where most of the Eleventh CDMB had run away. Still, some had fought the enemy until the very end.

“I don’t know if I agree with you,” Goose said. “The Chinese chased us out of Denver, didn’t they? And they destroyed it.”

The Lieutenant snorted so snot flew out of his nose. He used his sleeve to wipe his nostrils. “Sorry, but I don’t feel as if we were chased out. The enemy shoved and we shoved back. Yeah, they pushed us out of the majority of the city, but we made them pay in blood. We made them pay so much that our Army had time to regroup and turn the tables on them. Why did that happen? I’ll tell you, because you and me picked up our guns and fought to the last drop. We ground them down and weakened them enough to give the tank lords the opportunity. But without us, the Chinese would have conquered America.”

“Seems to me they’re still in America,” Goose said.

“Yeah,” the Lieutenant said, “with a noose around their necks. Give it a little more time, and we’ll hang these SOBs.”

Jake used the spoon and scooped some pork and beans. He ate the sample. It was hot and tasted great. “Supper’s ready,” he said. “Are you guys?”

Goose and the Lieutenant held out their tins. Jake divided the pork and beans evenly into three parts.

“Another few days,” Jake said, after he licked his spoon and tin clean. “And we’re out of—”

“Don’t jinx us by saying it,” Goose said.

Jake blinked at his friend and finally smiled. “No. I won’t jinx us. Let’s clean up and get some shut-eye.”

“We’ll clean up,” the Lieutenant said. “But then we keep moving. I want out of here and now’s our chance. So we move until we’re out or we’re dead.”

“Yes sir,” Jake said. “I like that advice.”

IDAHO SPRINGS, COLORADO

Paul sweated from the hard work and his hands were sore. “Ready?” he asked Romo.

“One, two,
three
,” Romo said, grunting the last word.

The two of them lifted a stretcher with a soldier on it. They carried the man from a truck out of Denver to a waiting Chinook helicopter. The helo was near capacity and Paul and Romo had carted at least a quarter of the patients into it.

There were here because SOCOM had been ordered to harass the Chinese in Denver. They hadn’t started on their mission yet because the medical people were short-handed and had asked for help.

The soldiers coming out of Denver looked more like skeletons. They were gaunt, all of them with the thousand-yard stare and too many having lice. The last few weeks had been the worst for them, as most of the airdrops hadn’t landed near enough the besieged soldiers to give them enough supplies.

Paul knew the orders for these men. The strongest were supposed to hike west along I-70, bypassing the ballistic-missile damage. It would take strong men to do that until they reached waiting trucks.

So far, eight thousand of these survivors had reached Idaho Springs. Belatedly, the Chinese attacked the rear guard, halting another eight thousand hastily digging trenches to face their tormentors.

Paul used his forearm to wipe his forehead. He was dog-tired from lifting stretchers and he was tired in his soul. SOCOM had been using him and the other LRSUs back and forth in the hottest spots for weeks on end now. He’d been fighting too long, and it had taken its toll to his spirit.

“Poor bastards,” Paul said.

“What did one of your great generals of the past say?” Romo asked. “War is Hell.”

“That it is,” Paul agreed.

A truck’s brakes squealed as it lurched toward the Chinook. MPs raced over to block it. The trucks were supposed to wait behind the barricade for inspection.

A tough-looking man with a Mexico Home Army uniform jumped out of the driver’s seat.

“You!” he said to Paul. “I have men that need loading.”

The MPs moved up.

Paul recognized the mean-looking driver: the man was an assassin for Valdez. Paul wasn’t sure what motivated him. “Just a minute,” he told the MP captain. “I think I might know some of these men.”

“Doesn’t make any difference,” the MP said.

“Is Colonel Valdez here?” Paul asked the driver.

The Mexico Home Army driver’s head swayed back. He squinted at Paul, and recognition flared in his eyes. Slowly, suspiciously, the driver nodded.

Paul faced the MP. “Sir, Colonel Valdez is a VIP to the President of the United States.”

“What?” the captain said.

“He’s an important figure to our allied soldiers,” Paul explained.

“What’s going on here?” the captain asked.

A hand clutched one of Paul’s elbows. Romo whispered in his ear, “What are you doing?”

Paul wasn’t sure. Maybe he was paying back a blood debt to Maria Valdez. The Colonel wanted him dead, could hate like few others, but he had fathered Maria and Paul hadn’t been able to rescue her from the Chinese. It still bothered him. He couldn’t give the Colonel his life, as Paul wanted to live, not die. But maybe he could give the Colonel back his own life as payment for a grim burden of the soul.

“Sir,” Paul told the captain, “I belong to SOCOM. The President tasks us from time to time with secret missions. I happen to know how important Colonel Valdez is to America’s war effort. Let us carry him and as many of his men as it can hold aboard the Chinook.”

The MP scowled and finally threw up his hands. “Hurry it up then. The helo is slated to take off in ten minutes.”

The captain and his MPs stalked off.

The driver studied Paul. The man’s features had become stony and then thoughtful. “You have a lion’s heart,” he said. “Follow me.” The driver took Paul and Romo to the back of the truck and opened the gate.

A dozen Mexico Home Army soldiers sat in the gloom on benches. On a stretcher lay Colonel Valdez. One of the men held up Valdez’s head. Another whipped back a blanket covering the Colonel, showing that Valdez held a pistol aimed at Paul’s chest.

Paul saw eyes of burning hate. Those eyes flickered to take in Romo.

“Both of you are here,” Valdez whispered. His skin was gray and he seemed feverish.

Paul wondered how much of an idiot he was, but he decided to play it through. “Do you want to live?” he asked the Colonel.

“I want to put a bullet in your chest,” Valdez whispered. “You are a pig and a traitor.”

“Colonel,” the driver said, surprising Paul by speaking up. “This man just interfered for your sake. The MP would have forced you to wait. Now you can leave on a helicopter and get the medical help you need.”