“Paul?” his wife asked, via the computer screen.
While grinning at her, Paul noticed that Cheri had aged since the Alaskan War. They’d been separated during it, getting back together afterward. She had gained weight since that time, but Paul usually had trouble noticing. When he looked at her, he saw his wife as the small, beautiful woman with long dark hair and a gymnast’s grace he’d first married. She was still all that, but with more curves and sometimes with tired eyes. They looked puffy today, probably because of worry after reading about the Chinese provocation.
It had been too long since he’d seen or talked with his wife. He knew she would be worried sick about him, so he’d taken the risk of calling her. This was BS, his driving a colonel around all week. If they wanted to jail him for this call with Cheri…let them. He’d had enough of playing chauffeur to a closed-mouthed DC staff officer.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“I haven’t heard from you for weeks. I was beginning to worry.”
Yeah, he’d guessed right. News of Chinese military action had terrified her. It hardly mattered what front it had taken place on, either. That it had happened is what mattered to his wife.
Of course, he wasn’t supposed to be talking to her now, but the comm-shack was empty. It was small, with three tables crowded together and piled with equipment, including a small refrigerator. He’d checked earlier and found rows of blue Pepsi cans and a single M&Ms package with a torn corner and half the candies missing. Paul had said he was coming here to get out of the heat. It was like the old days out there in the nineties. The colonel had ducked into a bunker to hold yet another conference, this time with the commanding general of the John J. Montgomery Freeway: Interstate 5. The freeway went all the way to the Mexican border three miles from here.
“I’ve been busy,” Paul told his wife.
“You’ve been reassigned then?”
“You could say that.”
“Are you in a safe place at least?” She frowned. “I’ve been watching the news about the Texas attack. The TV shows huge flashes on the horizon. It’s the Chinese guns booming. I don’t know why, but we’re all on high alert here. Maybe they think the entire border will erupt.”
Paul frowned.
“I know, I know,” Cheri said, “you’re going to tell me we’ve been through high alerts at least once a month for the last two years. But this one feels different. People are acting serious. I’m seeing that on TV. Oh. Maybe you haven’t heard, but the Germans have massed hovers off the Cuban coast in a war game.”
“You’re paying too much attention to the news, honey. It’s not like you.”
“We’re scared,” Cheri said. “The neighbors are talking, wondering what we should do if the Chinese really do attack. What do you think, honey, should we be worried, or is the attack going to happen in Texas?”
Paul rubbed his chin. For several years now, the Chinese had lined up on the border, but no guns had opened up like had happened outside Laredo. If the Chinese attacked in Texas, would they also attack in California?
Cheri and his thirteen-year-old son Mike lived in Greater LA, in Newhall near Magic Mountain. Newhall was at the northern tip of LA, almost to the Grapevine, the mountain pass to Bakersfield on the other side. If Texas showed this was the Big One—the beginning of a Chinese invasion—LA would eventually become a prime target.
“Maybe you should visit your mother,” Paul said.
Cheri’s eyes widened. “In Colorado?” she asked. “You know we can’t afford the gas. I checked, by the way. Since the news, it’s already two dollars more per gallon.”
“Well—”
“Tell me what’s wrong, honey. Is the alert accurate this time? Has the war finally started but none of us realize it yet?”
“Maybe.”
Her mouth firmed. “Paul, where are you?”
“I’m not supposed to tell you.”
“You’d better tell me this instant. If you’re near there, in Texas, I mean…”
His bitterness came bubbling up and he began to say more than he should. Besides, a few artillery shots in Texas wasn’t World War III. Playing chauffer down here, it sucked and he hated it.
“They’re screwing with me, Cheri. I don’t know what’s up, exactly. I’m near the border and—”
“In Texas?” she asked.
“No, I’m in California near Tijuana.”
“Oh, so you’re close. A couple hours driving and you could be home.”
“I suppose.”
“You don’t want to come home?” she asked.
“I’d love to, baby. But they’re not about to let me go sightseeing. They’re screwing with me.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s complicated. But I’m serious about you leaving. Cash out our savings and head to Colorado. I’ve been hearing strange things down here. This colonel, he’s a special ace from D.C.”
“The Chinese are attacking in SoCal?” Cheri whispered.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. Maybe it’s happening everywhere, in Texas, too. I don’t know. But High Command must be worried about the Chinese, enough anyway so this ace is here to make sure everything is ready for them.”
“Hey!” a tech corporal shouted. “Who are you talking to?”
Paul looked up. A scrawny kid of a soldier held the door open, letting out the shack’s cool air. This was one of the few air-conditioned places in Ninth Division’s Headquarters.
“Take a hike,” Paul told him. “This is a private conversation.”
The skinny corporal sputtered. “This is my shack. You can’t tell me what to do. And if you’re talking to civilians—that’s a court martial offense.”
Paul grinned at the corporal. It made the kid gulp nervously. Maybe the tech saw something in Paul he didn’t like.
“I’m getting my lieutenant,” the corporal said.
“Good,” Paul said. “Run along.”
The corporal glared at him, stepped back and slammed the door.
“What was that about?” Cheri asked.
“Can’t talk long, honey,” Paul said. He shouldn’t be talking to her, but he’d wanted to calm her and he’d had enough BS. He was sick of it and he was worried. “I want you to listen carefully. Is Mike home?”
“No. He’s at school.”
Paul scowled.
It made Cheri pale as her small hand flew to her mouth. “Is it really happening? Are the neighbors right?”
All the little things he’d heard, the colonel’s worry, the generals acting weird and now this softening up destruction in Texas—it jelled for Paul then. “I think it is,” he said.
“Why aren’t they telling us? All the talking heads are saying to remain calm. They’re saying that artillery fire like what’s going on in Texas without any Chinese saturation bombing means it must be a misunderstanding.”
“It’s about panic, I guess. They don’t want a mass exodus from SoCal clogging up the freeways.”
“Are the Chinese monitoring you?” Cheri asked.
President Sims had executive-ordered all kind of new laws on communications and dealings with the enemy. Sims had taken the growing chaos of these past twenty years and tried to instill greater discipline into the country. He’d raised militia armies to help beef the forces facing the more numerous enemy. The emergency powers he’d acquired—Cheri must realize he was taking a risk today by talking to her. But that couldn’t be helped now.
“Empty the account—”
“You listen to me, soldier,” Cheri said. “I want you to listen real good.”
Paul’s heart ached. He wanted to hug his wife. He wanted to kiss her, to feel her under him as they made love.
“I miss you,” he whispered.
She nodded, but her features had become businesslike. “I want your attention, mister.”