“Seems that way. But I didn’t wait around long enough to find out. Grabbed my gear and carted it out of town under the cover of darkness.”
Rodriguez put his earphones back on and swiveled the knob on the radio.
“What are you hoping to hear?” John asked. “Word from the West Coast?”
“In part, yes. But since most of the country’s gone radio silent, we use our equipment to identify other nearby Patriots, pass information back and forth and coordinate attacks.”
That last part caught John’s attention. “Aren’t you worried someone’s gonna listen in and hear what you’re saying?”
The whites of Rodriguez’s eyes flashed with surprise at John’s insight.
“They can listen all they want,” Rodriguez told him. “First of all we use coded messages. Morse code backwards, sometimes pig Latin, or even a simple substitute cipher where we slide the alphabet off by one or more positions.”
“But surely they triangulate the signal and pinpoint your location?”
“Ah, that’s where it starts to get fun. We’ve got two counters to that. The first is what’s called EME, which stands for earth, moon, earth. By bouncing the signal off the surface of the moon, it makes tracing the signal incredibly difficult. Of course it requires larger antennas. The second method is a bit more complicated. It involves using a manual spread spectrum. Fancy talk for switching frequencies and swapping bands every sixty seconds. Every once in a while we use the same techniques to send out false information just to see if anyone’s managed to figure it all out.”
John’s head was starting to spin just listening. It sounded as though they had things under control.
“Any news coming out of Oneida?” John asked.
“Rodriguez, are you giving away all of your secrets?” It was Marshall, and in spite of his light-hearted tone, John could tell he wasn’t happy. Behind him was Moss and Sullivan.
“We’re on the same side,” John told him. “I was just wondering if you’d gotten any information coming from the town itself.”
“I know exactly what you were asking and I don’t doubt you’re being honest with us. We’ll be happy to share when the time is right.”
“Fair enough. Well, given you’ve been communicating with the outside world, maybe you can answer a few general questions.”
The muscles on Marshall’s face didn’t move. “What is it you’d like to know?”
“Well, for one,” John said. “Why haven’t we seen the military since the EMP hit?”
Marshall turned to Moss who explained. “Word is troops have been seen in convoys moving west.”
“For what purpose?” John asked.
“We’re not sure yet,” Marshall replied. “Our lines of communication don’t go beyond Jefferson City, Missouri anymore. But we’re working on it. It could be there’s a major uprising in some of the western states. Don’t forget California alone has a population of nearly forty million, four of which live in L.A. It’s not inconceivable the military’s been deployed to the areas that need them the most.”
“Knoxville was one of those places in need and we didn’t see a single uniform.”
“There may be other explanations, many of them far more grim, but why bother speculating before we have more information?”
John nodded. “So how do I get my family back?” He could see the question was a delicate one.
“You’re not the only person who’s lost someone to the Chairman,” Sullivan said, a lock of his blond hair tumbling into his face before he pulled it back with the flat of his hand. “We all have a score to settle. If it were that easy, don’t you think we would have hit the town already?”
Drawing in a deep breath, John tried to quell the frustration building up within him and listen to what these men had to say.
“The Chairman’s been consolidating his power since the beginning,” Marshall said. “He’s spent the last few weeks bleeding the mountains dry and scooping up every useful weapon he can muster. The people in town seem to be going along with him now since he’s got the backing of the president. Frankly, I’m sure half of ’em don’t believe a word of it, but if it’s between a liar who keeps the streets safe and an elected official who can’t, who would you choose?”
“The one who upholds the Constitution,” John replied. “Or was that a trick question?”
Marshall grinned. “Not at all. Although most of the folks in town are loyal Americans, they might not be Patriots.”
“You really believe that?” John asked, not even trying to mask his surprise.
Marshall tapped a finger on the table. “Don’t get me wrong. The folks in Oneida are patriotic, I’m not arguing that, but the men and women in this camp are ready to lay down their lives to free their families and defend the Constitution. That’s the difference. The problem is most of our boys are armed with shotguns and deer rifles. The few like yourself who’ve arrived with ARs and anything equivalent are eager to fight back, there’s just not enough firepower to go around.”
“And once you find that firepower?”
“We move in and take Oneida back.”
“And what if the president really has issued a decree?” John asked. His question wasn’t exactly a trap, but he wanted to see what Marshall would say.
“Any president who dissolves Congress and suspends the Constitution no longer rules with the will of the people. That makes his laws illegal and unbinding.”
John smiled. “I was hoping you were gonna say that. So where are we supposed to get the weapons we need?”
Marshall returned the gesture. “Let me show you what you missed during your assault on Oneida.”
Chapter 16
Moss, Sullivan, Marshall and John set out in a single vehicle. They snaked along back roads at high speed. Moss’ skill behind the wheel was becoming clear and John was growing more and more certain the man had learned evasive driving techniques at some point in his life.
“I’ve got you pegged as either former law enforcement or military contractor,” John told him from the back seat.
Marshall nodded his approval. “Looks like he spotted you a mile away, Moss.”
Grinning through impossibly white teeth, Moss tapped the wheel. “I used to be a deputy in Oneida. Worked there up until the Chairman came in and started using the Second Amendment as a beer coaster.”
“The Second along with all the others, that is,” Marshall corrected him.
“So you left.”
“I took an oath to protect people, not gun them down like some Nazi brownshirt. So yeah, I left. Shaved my head into the fine display you see before you, packed my guns and fled.”
“But he didn’t get very far before we found him,” Marshall said.
Sullivan half turned in John’s direction. “It didn’t help his getaway much that he was on foot.”
“Well, not anymore,” Moss said, turning off Paint Rock Road and onto a narrow mountain trail. The truck bounced up and down over a patchwork of what might have passed for a road in India.
“You wanna tell me where we’re heading?” John asked Marshall who was sitting beside him.
“I guess it wouldn’t do much harm at this point. There’s a spot on Owens Ridge with a perfect vantage point over the city. It’s a spot we often use to keep tabs on things down there. We almost always have someone posted, recording patrols, the strength of the garrison. The lookout probably even saw you get your rear end shot off.”
The men in the truck burst into laughter.
“All my parts are still attached,” John told them, appreciating the dig at his expense. That was one of the aspects he missed from his years serving. Soldiers were experts at spotting each other’s flaws and revealing them to raucous laughter and high fives. Course, it was rarely meant in a bad way. Maybe it was just the way men let you know you were all right.