“Look, we have a safe place and you and your group can join under us,” I say as a way or reconciling this situation.
“Thanks, Captain, but we have our own safe place here,” he responds.
“Well, Sam, this is the only route and we’re coming through,” I say.
“Sorry, sir. We can’t let you do that military or not,” Sam replies.
I hear the sound of a prop engine revving up across the water. At least it’s a prop, I think getting more irritated by the minute. I don’t really want to unleash the.50 cals on them as they are only trying to protect their own as well but we need to push through. I look up at the unmoving gray clouds overhead seeking an answer. They have none to give. I’m getting tired of this little tete-a-tete. It’s getting us nowhere and I can’t for the life of me figure out why they would want to stop us. Surely they know they have little chance. If that aircraft gets aloft, they’ll know for sure. I ponder over whether to just let it describe what we have on this side but I’m not a fan of just letting an aircraft roam overhead.
“Last chance, Sam,” I say.
“I’m sorry, sir. You can go around to the south. There’s a route to the north from there,” he responds.
“Yeah, that’s not happening. You either let us through or we’re coming through,” I say.
“Again, sorry, sir,” Sam responds.
“It’s your funeral, Sam,” I reply, sighing and shaking my head in resignation.
Stubbornness is going to get him and lot of others killed. We could radio the sub to let them know that we’re running late but to go all of the way around would take us a couple of additional hours each way. Who knows how long our meeting is going to take and we just don’t have that kind of time before the sun hits the western horizon. I look again to the empty lanes of the bridge stretching across, sigh, and reach into the Humvee to replace the mic. I look over at Lynn who gives me a shrug of her shoulders as if to say ‘we tried’.
“That could have gone better,” I say in response to Lynn’s shrug.
“It’s not like we didn’t give them a chance,” Lynn says.
I still don’t get it. We are on the very brink and need to pull together rather than play games. I can understand Sam’s position though. I’m not certain I would let anyone roll through our area at will but neither would I jeopardize our group with stubbornness. But given the option of strengthening our group with numbers to give us a better chance at survival, I would take it provided our safety and cohesiveness remained. But here we are, facing yet another group of people that we’ll have to fight our way through.
This is different from out other situations though. This isn’t a group of marauders or bandits. This group across the span from us is just trying to protect their people and resources. Much like we are. If we roll through them, are we any better than marauders seeking their own gain regardless of others? I mean, we could radio Captain Leonard and head on the other route around the Puget Sound tomorrow. That will take us through a few small towns which could be blockaded as well. Either solution doesn’t sit well with me. Well, fuck. We did give them a chance and we are pressed for time. And they did fire upon us without provocation, accident or not. I’m not happy with it but we’re proceeding along our route as planned.
“Jack, are you with us?” Lynn asks. I shake out of my thoughts and look at the others gathered around in the chill under the gray skies.
“Yeah, I’m here. Okay, here’s what I’m thinking but I’m open to suggestions. We take two Strykers in parallel up the bridge on the right with the other Stryker and the two Humvees astride on the left. We’ll crest and fire into the road block creating a lane to pass through. Our field of fire will be limited due to the bridge superstructure. Make sure to keep our rounds away from the suspension wires. I’m not all that keen on bringing the bridge down with us parked on it. That belongs on the unfavorable situation list. You dump me in the water and I’m going to be a little upset. We open a lane through on each side and push through. Any questions?” I ask.
“What do you want to do about the aircraft?” Greg asks.
The Strykers idling nearby are blocking other sounds but I still faintly hear the props of the aircraft in the distance carrying over the waters. It won’t be long before it powers down the runway and gets aloft. I’m nervous about what they’re about to put aloft but, by the sound of the engine, it isn’t overly large. If it was an old World War Two bird, there would be a definite roar instead of the motor boat sound coming to us.
“I’m not a fan of letting it roam freely and give them free intel but this should be over quickly. Lynn, you keep an eye on it and if it comes at us, call out and we motor forward quickly and through. We can’t shoot at it without taking out guide wires so let’s push forward to the other side. If it continues to come at us in a threatening manner, we take it out. I’m guessing there’s another road block farther up the highway. If it follows at a distance, there’s not much we can do but keep an eye on it,” I answer. Heads nod in response.
“Anything else?” I ask, looking at each to see if there are any further questions or issues. No one says anything.
“Alright, if there’s nothing else, then let’s mount up,” I say.
McCafferty stands in the open turret of the Humvee gripping the M-240. She feels the cold through her gloves as they motor up the Interstate. Turning and looking behind her, she sees the nose of the Stryker behind as they make their way through the line of cars in the lanes beside them. The balaclava she has wrapped around her head and the goggles do little to stop the chill from seeping through. The Humvee rocks as they drive over an object in the road. Her splayed feet on the gunners stand helps to keep her balanced but her arm still knocks into the cold steel of the roof opening. Regaining her equilibrium, her thoughts wander.
She thinks of her parents and is filled with mixed emotions. There is joy at finding her dad alive and having him up here with her, but there is a tremendous sadness that settles in her heart thinking of her mom. The sorrow and grief threatens to overwhelm her and she feels warm tears fill her eyes. Keeping most of her attention focused on the area around her, images of her mom form in McCafferty’s mind.
She remembers her mom puttering around the kitchen with flour covering her hands and in her hair from some baking project. She always had fresh pies and bread ready to deliver to neighbors or to take to church, the smell of fresh bread permeating the house. Her mom standing over the kitchen counter humming while kneading the dough. Memories surface of her mom tirelessly roaming about doing laundry, sweeping, and changing bed linens. She remembers her mom putting on her favorite dress for church and helping McCafferty with hers when she was young. There were the times when her mom took her out with her new bicycle and taught her to ride, picking her up the many times when she fell in the their dusty yard. Always dusting her off and giving her words of encouragement. Clapping when she managed to make it down the entire driveway on her own. The twinkle that always shone in her mother’s eye. The memories of her mom waking early and herself waking to the aroma of breakfast wafting through the house. The peace and contentment McCafferty felt waking to the smell of bacon as it drifted in her room.
Although her dad felt he ruled the house and made the decisions, McCafferty always knew her mom actually did but with a softer touch. Her mom never had a bad thing to say about anyone and would admonish her dad gently when he would make critical comments. McCafferty remembers going to the grocery store and her mom chatting with anyone and everyone in line. Now she is gone like so many others, just another on the long list of those lying in the emptiness of the world. McCafferty reaches under her goggles and wipes away the tears that are running down her cheeks.