Some four weeks after the power went out the family was eating lunch in the kitchen when they heard loudspeakers out in the streets. Jack cautioned them not to show themselves and left the kids with Caitlin while he and Andrew went to look out. They saw four military Humvees, two of them parked in the middle of the four-way junction. They seemed fairly innocuous, they were unarmored and they did not have weapons mounted on top.
One of them had, in place of a weapon, a large loudspeaker array mounted on top. It was blasting out a message: “THIS IS A FEMA MESSAGE. THIS AREA IS NOT SECURE. FOR YOUR SAFETY AND SECURITY WE REQUIRE YOU TO MOVE TO THE NEAREST FEMA COLLECTION POINT. YOU ARE AT RISK FROM EXTREMIST ELEMENTS AND CRIMINALS.” and so the message continued in a similar vein until it looped around again.
“That’s a psychological operations unit,” Jack said to Andrew.
Just down the street across the junction were parked the other two Humvees. The soldiers were going door to door knocking and when there was an answer they were handing out boxes of MRE rations. They seemed to be taking notes in conversation with those households that chose to show themselves.
“So,” Jack said, “That’s probably a civil affairs team.”
“But Dad, you said they could not operate here in the States?”
“Yep, but they are. Ok, keep it quiet, we are not announcing our presence. Go tell Mom and keep Jasper and the kids quiet, I’ll stay on watch.”
The civil affairs team moved across the junction and knocked on their door, but they made no response, Andy keeping Jasper quiet. They moved on, going door to door down the street. Finally, the teams packed up and moved off. Jack could hear the distant voice from the speakers coming from further up the road, at the next junction, as the military teams continued their mission.
Chapter Two
A couple of days later, it was mid-morning and Jack was sitting up in the watch position. He was reading a book with one ear on the street, glancing up occasionally. He could hear Caitlin in the kitchen, where Andrew was helping her with a chore, and the two young kids were playing down in the basement.
The junction was to his south east, and the road that ran away from the junction in a south easterly direction dropped off into some dead ground as it ran off downhill.
He heard the sound of a powerful car engine and looked up to see a small convoy of four vehicles crest the hill from the south east and stop some two hundred meters away in front of the Johnson’s house. There were two black Suburbans and two pickup trucks.
As the vehicles came to a halt a number of men jumped from them and split, some headed towards the Johnsons house on the right and the others across the street to another house; Jack didn’t know who lived there. He did know that the Johnson’s had decided to stay.
The men were dressed in a variety of civilian and tactical type clothes but they were all well-armed and wearing tactical vests. On the one hand they appeared scruffy and non-uniform, on the other they moved like experienced operators. They reminded him of security contractors he had come across on deployment; their appearance was like a mix of civilian paramilitary and SWAT.
Jack saw that remaining in the passenger seat of one of the black Suburbans was a man in a dress shirt and tie. From what Jack could see of his head and shoulders through the windshield he was wearing a set of black civilian body armor over his shirt. Jack eyed him through his x4 scope and he looked like a pasty faced bureaucrat.
Interesting.
“Cat, bad guys, stand-to!” Jack shouted down to Caitlin as he shrugged his tactical vest on and closed the Velcro sides.
“What was that Hon?” Caitlin called back, in the process of making lunch.
“Bad guys! Get in the basement!” Jack repeated as he moved to the bedroom door so he could be heard.
“Ok, moving! Kids, bad guys! Basement, let’s go, go, go!” replied Caitlin as she hustled towards the basement door.
As Jack turned back towards the window he heard the sound of gunfire from down the street. He moved back to the window, bringing his M4 up to the ready position to scan through the optic, but being careful to stay back in the shadows.
There was something going on at the house on the left; that was where the gunfire was coming from. At the same time, the group approached the Johnsons house and there was the crash of a shotgun as someone inside fired out at the armed men. They returned a fusillade of fire and rushed the door, kicking it down to enter, then dragging a bloodied Mr. Johnson out of the house and throwing him down.
One of the gunmen appeared to be the leader and he was stood back from the house out on the front lawn. Next, his men returned dragging Mrs. Johnson and their sixteen year old daughter, Sarah. Mrs. Johnson appeared to be pleading with them but one of the men punched her to the ground.
They brought Sarah to the leader and he grabbed her hair, blatantly inspecting her, then he reached up and ripped her shirt open, at which point Mr. Johnson got up and charged, to be felled by a burst of fire from one of the thugs. The girl tore herself from the leaders grasp and ran to her mother, where they both crouched in each other’s arms while the thugs stood around laughing.
At that point Jack forgot all thoughts of remaining low profile. It was simply not in him to let this continue. He raised the rifle and took aim, firing and hitting the leader center mass, dropping him. He then followed with several more shots into the leader’s body as he sprawled on the ground, and then switched fire to the other gunmen.
As his shots rang out, the thugs reacted by bomb-bursting for cover. Jack took some rapid shots and hit another as he ran for the cover of some bushes. He then began scanning for targets. Mrs. Johnson and her daughter had been frozen in place and then after a short delay they reacted and ran to Mr. Johnson, hysterically rolling him onto his back and trying to help him.
There must have been around fourteen bad guys, less the two that had already been hit. They had dispersed to cover and were now hard targets. It was clear that they were trained shooters, but clearly not infantry.
They had not yet located his firing point and he saw one taking cover by the rear wheel of one of the Suburbans, facing the wrong way. Jack took aim and squeezed off a shot, taking him in mid torso through the side of his vest, avoiding the ballistic plates and dropping him instantly.
One of the enemies must have seen his muzzle flash from within the bedroom window and a shout went up as the target indication was passed out. Suddenly, a squad automatic weapon (SAW) opened fire from the cover of a landscaped embankment and the room around Jack came alive with the violent crack of passing high velocity 5.56mm rounds and the smacking and splintering as the rounds passed through the thin bedroom wall.
Jack threw himself to the floor and crawled out through the bedroom door as the rounds passed through the room like some sort of lethal hornets’ nest, throwing bits of plaster and dust into the air. He crawled along the landing and headfirst down the stairs.
Jack ran through the foyer to the top of the basement stairs, wrenched open the door, and called down to Caitlin, “Cat, we’re under attack. I’m going out back with Andy. Keep the kids down. Have you got the shotgun?”
“Yes. Hon, for God’s sake, be careful!” she called back from the bottom of the basement steps, shotgun held at the low ready. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” said Jack as he headed towards the back door, where Andrew was waiting, M4 in hand and battle belt on, as they had planned. “Ok, as we discussed Andy, stay in cover and protect the rear. This is gonna get sporting — don’t hesitate. If they come round, take them out. They’re wearing armor, so aim hips and heads. If you get in trouble, call me.”