“Sergeant, I was just—”
“Never mind. Get in the vehicle.”
The airfield where the Chinese had landed was a flurry of activity. The soldiers were packing up gear, taking down tents, and moving into the tree line, out of sight of any drones or aircraft that might be looking for them. Vans arrived every few minutes, and squads of men would scurry from the trees to get into them. The vans then ferried the Chinese troops away from the airfield. Lin Yu didn’t know where they were going.
Two months ago, Lin Yu had worked in a small electronics shop in Guangzhou, the third-largest city in China. His job had been to sell bulk orders of secondhand cell phone parts to international manufacturers.
Then the Chinese president had been assassinated in a treacherous American plot. Lin Yu had read all about it on his social media feed. The Americans were religious zealots. They hated the Chinese because they didn’t believe in their Christian God. Just like the Muslims and other religions. China was a peace-loving country, but it had to protect itself.
At least, that was what all of the Chinese media news articles said. These ideas were reinforced by the political awareness classes they all took during their two-week military basic training.
Lin Yu wasn’t sure what to believe.
His presence here was an abnormality. He was by far the most junior of the group. But he had been selected for a special assignment due to his aptitude and English language skills. Someone in one of the more advanced PLA units had been injured at the last minute, just before the war had begun. Lin Yu had been chosen to replace him.
The flight across the Pacific had been strange at first, and then frightening. It was the first flight Lin Yu had ever taken. A commercial aircraft had picked them up from a military base. They had sweated while wearing their winter utility uniforms throughout the long flight. Two meals and eight hours of broken sleep later, things took a turn for the worse. The airplane’s lights were purposely shut off. Their windows were shut. Lin Yu and his fellow passengers screamed when the plane began turning and diving wildly. The company sergeant said that someone had fired at them, and that they were over Canada.
They had landed on a darkened airfield in the middle of the night. Lin Yu and the troops had been offloaded and had begun setting up camp. A few gunshots in the distance had alarmed the men, but the company sergeant had told them that it was nothing to worry about. The company had scored their first kills, you see. Later, Lin Yu had learned that they were American policemen, come to see what was going on at an airfield that was supposed to be abandoned. Lin Yu had seen many American movies. The policemen never seemed like they were bad.
Lin Yu worked as an administrative assistant for the company operations officer, a young college graduate not much older than Lin Yu himself. The boy put on a brave face, but Lin Yu could tell that he was just as afraid of where they were. Behind enemy lines. In the Operations tent, Lin Yu learned that they were in North Dakota, one of the northernmost territories within the United States. Chinese attacks had successfully knocked out most of the American electrical grid and radars. The operation Lin Yu was a part of had landed almost two thousand PLA troops at the airfield.
They were met by a team of PLA commandos who had been waiting for them. The troops were sent out in companies and platoons, each unit given a different objective. Lin Yu’s company was moved one hundred kilometers to the south. The men had to sit in the back of a large commercial truck. When they reached their destination, which wasn’t much more than a farm and some trees, they set up their tents and camouflaged them with natural elements. Leaves, branches, pine needles. Lin Yu wasn’t sure if this would matter, but the company sergeant kept barking orders, and the men obeyed.
They had been in America for five days now. Their company had been hiding here for the last four, waiting for orders. They were supposed to have moved on day one, but there had been a communications problem. Their rations were running low, and it was cold. Lin Yu hadn’t done much other than stand guard duty up near the farmhouse and monitor the periodic radio reports from other PLA units.
But today was going to be different.
The company sergeant was smiling when the PLA commando team arrived. Two pickup trucks of Chinese men, each wearing American-made clothing for hunters or hikers. Black semiautomatic rifles slung over their shoulders. Experience and pride in their eyes.
“These men are the best of the best,” the sergeant had whispered to his platoon. Someone asked him what made them so good. The sergeant replied, “They are the elite. South Sword naval commandos. All of the top missions go to these men. They were here weeks ago. They are killers.” He said it with envy.
Lin Yu saw the company commander and operations officer greet the elite Chinese special forces team. They led them into the farmhouse and gave them food and a place to sleep.
After an hour, the company commander called over Lin Yu’s sergeant. Two of the special forces team members were going to be sent out on an assignment with some of Lin Yu’s company. They were to acquire transportation for the company at the nearest town.
“Lin Yu, you speak good English. You will come with us. We will take the second platoon and go into town.”
Lin Yu’s sergeant was again smiling. He wanted to kill Americans, Lin Yu knew. He wanted to taste war. Lin Yu wasn’t so sure about how he felt. But he went along, because that was his duty and he was afraid.
“Yes, Sergeant.”
They drove in a two-vehicle convoy. A pickup truck with four PLA special forces men, and the trailing sedan, which held Lin Yu, his sergeant, and two other company-mates. Their vehicles bounced along the gravel road that wound through rolling grass hills. A wide-open, clear sky. It was very cold here in America, but the natural beauty was striking compared to the swampy city Lin Yu had grown up in.
The vehicles left the dirt road and began traveling on a highway. They saw a pickup truck heading the opposite direction, and the passengers in Lin Yu’s car grew tense at the mere sight of it. When they arrived on the outskirts of the small American town, Lin Yu heard the clicks and slaps of his comrades checking their weapons.
Lin Yu looked around at the faces of the others in the vehicle. He realized that he was the only one who hadn’t been informed of the plan. Seeing his face, Lin Yu’s sergeant said, “You stay in the car. We may need you as an interpreter. We will call for you if that is the case.” Lin Yu nodded nervously, looking at the homes and storefronts as the two-vehicle caravan passed through town. Two old white men, bundled up in winter jackets, sat on the front walkway in front of one of the shops. Lin Yu read the name of the store. Barber Shop.
They pulled into a large parking lot filled with cars. A car dealership. The Chinese vehicles skidded to a halt and their doors opened. Lin Yu could see an American man looking through one of the glass panels that made up the walls of the central building.
His eyes went wide as he saw submachine guns being trained on him and realized what was happening. One of the PLA special forces soldiers was signaling him to come outside, but the American was frozen with fear. Two other soldiers ran into the building and dragged him outside. They began yelling and pointing. The man had his elbows bent, hands half-raised. He was shaking his head vigorously, saying something that Lin Yu couldn’t make out.
A plump black woman was dragged outside next. She just kept her head down, looking at the ground.
Lin Yu turned his head to the street, looking for any sign of trouble. The town had seemed deserted on their way in. He wondered if there were any military or policemen nearby. But there were only eight of them. They wouldn’t last very long if…