Pedestals of Ash (25 page)

It took almost three hours to rig everything up. After one quick check that he was ready, Bishop pulled a disposable lighter from his chest rig and ignited the long strand of duct tape and trotted away to the north.

He stayed close to the top of the ridge careful not to expose his movements to anyone watching from below. He traveled to a wash that was about 1,000 yards north of the
complex and checked his watch.
He carefully climbed down the steep slope of the rocks, working his way to the desert floor below. Bishop found a good place to hide at the bottom and remained out of sight. He waited until the burning duct tape finally made its way to the first flare’s trip wire. With an auditable pop and fizzle, the ridge south of Bishop was suddenly aglow in pulsating red light. He risked peeking his rifle around the corner of the rock he was hiding behind
,
and watched with anticipation the activity at the complex. He was a little disappointed when the night vision revealed very little activity on the rooftop of the structure.

Almost a minute later, the first flare burned through the second trip wire
,
and its magnesium ignited
,
contributing to the illumination of the ridgeline. Bishop smiled when the reaction to the second flare was considerable. He could see hurried activity and men moving in the shadows of the building. The third flare caused absolute bedlam.

Right on cue, the first flare burned down to the cartridge Bishop had taped to the tube. The sound of a rifle round being discharged was louder than Bishop had anticipated
,
and he actually jumped just a little as the noise echoed off the rocks. That discharge was soon followed by a second
,
and now Bishop could hear shouts coming from the complex.

It’s now o
r never. Bishop sprinted
from his hiding spot and head
ed out into the open desert. He
was wagering his life that the men guarding the distribution center were completely focused on the obvious attack coming from the other direction. He didn’t
even
breathe for the first twenty steps
.
After he had traveled a hundred yards or so, he
started to replenish his oxygen and slow his pace
.
That was when he heard the first shot come from the
roof of the warehouse
.

His instinct was to dive for cover and roll. There wasn’t anything to hide behind
,
so he hoped the movement would cause a long distance shot to miss. When he finally stopped moving, he looked back at the
building
, trying to determine if he could arch a shot that far. The
distance
was way, way out of range for his rifle, but he might be able to keep their heads down for a minute or two. A flash of light on the ridge distracted him
,
and it took a moment to realize his radar trap was working. From his position, he watched
,
fascinated
,
as small white twinkles of light flashed on the ridge. It actually looked like the muzzle flash from a rifle
,
and the snipers on the
rooftop
were returning fire.

Bishop scrambled up and began jogging west and away from the complex, happy his plan had worked and wanting to get out of range as soon as possible. He ran hard for three minu
tes, and then
slowed to scan the area in front of him with his night vision. As he was bringing the weapon to his shoulder, the squawk of a radio made him freeze.

There, less than 50 yards to his south
,
was one of the ATVs. The driver was standing in the seat
,
concentrating on
the
warehouse
with binoculars
,
and hadn’t seen Bishop. The target was simply too good to pass up
,
and Bishop kept watching the preoccupied rider as he slowly circled up behind the man. When he was within 30 steps, he detected the noise of the engine idling. At 10 steps, he broke out into a full run and put his shoulder into the man’s knees.
The tackle would have made any high school football coach proud.

By the time the startled, confused policeman had regained
his composure, he was looking
into the barrel of Bishop’s rifle.
Bishop
started
to ask the
cop
for his license, registration
,
and proof of insurance, but thought better of it. Instead, he growled,
“Friend, I’ll cut you in half
,
if you even look at me funny. Work with me here
,
and you’ll be home with your wife and kids in less than an hour. Try and be a fucking hero
,
and they’ll find your body in two pieces tomorrow morning. Your call.” Bishop accented his threat by clicking off the safety of his rifle.

The frightened man nodded rapidly and finally managed to mumbled, “Okay.”

Five
minu
tes later, Bishop was riding
on the ATV carrying the former owner’s shoes, pistol, four full
magazines,
and a couple bottles of water. The wind felt wonderful against his face
,
and he couldn’t help but let out a
long-winded “W
oooooohoooooo” as he sped off into the desert night.

Combined, the cities of El Paso, Texas and Ciudad Juarez, Mexico have a population larger than Philadelphia or Phoenix. Were it not for the Rio Grande River splitting the
two
metropolitan
municipalities
with an international border, the area would be the fifth largest city in America. Almost two thirds of the population resides on the Mexican side of the border
,
however, leaving El Paso as the 19
th
largest in the United States, slightly
ahead of
Memphis, Tennessee.

Most Americans visualize El Paso as a dusty cow town, often mentioned and seldom shown in Hollywood’s depictions of the Old West. The city doesn’t even get respect in the state of Texas, given it falls short of Houston, Dallas, San Antonio,
Austin,
and Fo
rt Worth in population
. 

El Paso is in fact a culturally rich and diverse city with a history as colorful as any, and older than most. The first recorded Thanksgiving Holiday celebrated in El Paso was over 20 years before the pilgrims threw their bash at Plymouth Plantation. The land around the modern downtown has been home to civilized cultures for thousands of years.

None of that mattered to Bishop as he sat on the ATV and chewed his third “power bar” of the morning. He had been like a kid on Christmas day when he found the stash of food in the off-road vehicle’s small storage compartment. Despite his best intentions of saving some of the goodies for Terri, he was quickly eating his way through the treasure.

His mood was elevated further by the fact that he was overlooking his destination. Spread out across the valley below was Fort Bliss with its million plus acres of land. To the
south,
he could see the outline of downtown El Paso’s skyscrapers. To the north was nothing but open desert
,
fading away to mountains in the distance. B
ishop knew White Sands missile r
ange was connected to the base in that general direction. From his elevated perch, he realized he was probably looking at New Mexico and Texas from the same vista.

He swung a leg over the ATV’s gas tank
,
while shoving the last of the chocolate flavored trea
t into his pie hole. A passing p
ang of guilt pulled him down for a moment
,
as he thought about how much Terri would have enjoyed sharing it with him. He consoled himself with the
excuse
that before everything
went to hell, the nutritional snack wouldn’t have tasted all that good. While the print on the foil wrapper advertised the product as having a “rich chocolate flavor,” Bishop remembered most of these products had tasted like raw oats coated in cardboard. Today, however, nothing could be further from the truth. H
is palate
had been deprived of anything sweet for months
,
and even the hint of chocolate caused him to gobble down the first two bars in a few bites.

After sucking the last few morsels from his fingertip
s, Bishop pulled his gloves
on and began to scout the base below. He could easily make out the area around Biggs Field
,
and its long landing strip that serviced the fort. Huge
hangar
s dwarfed the other structures in the area. It took him a few minutes of searching, but he eventually saw what he was looking for. The towering white tail fin of a large commercial jet was visible between two of the
hangar
s. While his four times magnification couldn’t make out many details, Bishop was reasonably sure the aircraft was Air Force One. Looking further south toward the border, Bishop could see the hazy outlines of the main base’s buildings, including a taller
structure that
he remembered was a hospital.

Bishop sat on the fender of the ATV and tried to recall everything he knew of Fort Bliss. He remembered a large expansion of the base being ordered a few years ago
,
as the 1
st
Armored Division was being brought home after 40 years of being stationed in Germany. Bliss was the perfect place for tanks to roll all over the desert and shoot their massive guns. Although he didn’t know who, someone had once said Bliss was the largest fort in the United States in terms of square miles available for gun ranges.
I bet it’s a hell of a lot of fun busting ass all over the desert in a tank and shooting that gun. I wonder if I could tank-jack an Abrams?

Recalling all of this didn’t help him
make the critical decision
where to enter the property. On one hand, he considered just driving up to the main gate and announcing himself. He was here on legitimate business and had nothing to hide. The problem with t
hat course of action was that it necessitated a drive
through a heavily populated portion of El Paso. The main entrance to the facility bordered on the north side of the city, and according to everything he had heard, El Paso wasn’t a place where one casually strolled around
these days
.

Had he simply wanted to meet with the base commander or other higher ups, he would have driven the ATV onto the property until he found a road and followed the signs to the HQ buildi
ng. The problem with that strategy
was the President of the United States was most likely staying at the base, and that meant security would
be
tight – very tight. A lone stranger with a rifle strapped to his back would probably invoke a
“
shoot now and ask questions later
,”
response.

Bishop had no way of knowing how Bliss and those assigned to the base had weathered the storm of collapse. The 1
st
Armored Division would have at least fo
ur brigades. According to what t
h
e Colonel had
detailed
, the army
sent
brigade-sized
forces into the major cities when martial law had been declared. It was a strong probability that the 1
st
had been taxed with the same orders. Bliss was a major training center as well, so there was no telling how many forces were here on temporary duty assignments when
the economy collapsed and sent society reeling
. Regardless, base commanders would have retained enough force to secure their facility. It was their job, and besides, their families were typically li
ving with them on base
.

Bishop dug around in the ATV’s storage compartment and eyed the last two nutrition bars. One
was chocolate
,
and the other featured
cranberries and raisins. He had to save one of them for Terri, no ifs-ands-or-buts about it. He was already in enough domestic trouble as it was, but couldn’t help wondering if his wife liked cranberries or raisins. He chuckled to himself as his mind raced with wild tales of savage mountain lions
,
raiding his camp and eating the chocolate bars.
No
, he thought,
I’ll tell her
I had to use them to bribe a rogue lynch mob in order to save my neck.
On and on his mind raced
, creating
ever-greater fabrications
and excuses to explain to his wife why she only received one treat
,
and it wasn’t chocolate
.
Maybe I’ll say the
p
resident saw them in my pack and wanted them.
Bishop rested his hand on the grip of his pistol
,
and the feel of the weapon reminded him of Terri’s skill with a handgun.
I’ll leave the chocolate one damn it…just my luck to marry a girl who can shoot.

The thought of being straight up with Terri led to the more immediate decision. Bishop sat bac
k in the driver’s seat and kick-
started the motor. He would chance traveling through a portion of El Paso and approach the front gate like a regular visitor. It just seemed the proper thing to do.

One thing that bothered Bishop about riding the ATV was the engine noise. Not only did the mechanical beast’s rumblings let everyone within a half mile know where he was, it also blocked his senses as well.
Riding the machine across
open desert
was worth the risk.
As he approached the suburbs around El Paso, he felt an
ever-growing
need to be stealthy.

A cluster of
car-sized
boulders provided an excellent place to stash his ride. While the weight of his pack was an unwelcome addition to his shoulders, being able to hear while moving was worth it. After one last check that his kit was in order, Bishop sat out on foot toward the first housing development he knew was over the next rise. It was broad daylight
,
and he
considered waiting until night
fall, but decided this little adventure was taking too long
,
and he wanted to see Terri again – chocolate or no chocolate.

Bishop went prone as he approached the crest of the rise and looked down at the houses below through his optic. The
re was a cluster of nine middle
class homes on two cross streets. The neighborhood was laid out like thousands of others n
estled on the outskirts of American cities from California to the Carolinas
. This specific development was designed with a southwestern, stucco flair in mind. Bis
hop liked the design and surmised
the primary occupants would most likely be married soldiers stationed at the base.

As he scouted the subdivision, he noticed that some houses had large mounds of trash bags stacked by the curb, while others didn’t. He shook his head at the oversight by the occupants. It was a clear sign that someone was home
, and the occupants
either had
cleane
d out the garage, or at minimum, were eating
. While a lack of trash wasn’t a guarantee of an empty house, a large pile of bags did stand o
ut. Unless the owner was crafty
and stacked his bags on the neighbor’s lawn, trash was a sure sign of food. The observation also made Bishop wonder about the mindset of the people down there. Did they still believe trash pickup was going to resume at some point in time? How big did they intend on letting the heaps get before going to plan B?

The other, more important point was that the homes were separated and surrounded by privacy fences. This was a good
thing,
as it would allow Bishop to move with m
ore cover. Privacy was a two-way
street.

Bishop was just about to head down into the neighborhood when movement caught his eye. The small cluster of homes was accessed from a larger street a few hundred yards away. Bishop could see a few people walking along that street, one person
carrying a large bundle on his
head. What really drew his attention was the
Humvee
sitting right in the middle of the intersection. While details were difficult to make out at this range, he could tell tha
t there were soldiers at the crossroads
. It looked like a checkpoint, and that actually made a lot of sense. If he were in charge of base security, establishing control points on the major roadways leading to the base would be a good tactic.

This revelation gave Bishop a moment of pause. It would be risky enough approaching the base’s main gate. An armed man passing by these checkpoints was sure to garner unwelcome inquiries. While he had no way of knowing the situation below,
it wouldn’t be a surprise if
now the
all-powerful
military granted considerable leeway to the men stationed at these outposts. In some parts of the world where Bishop had worked, soldiers such as these even preyed on the civilians. Bishop didn’t believe the U.S. military would resort to that – but he didn’t want to find out the hard way. He needed another plan. After observing the foot traffic around the
checkpoint
, he finally came up with an idea.