HOMELAND: Falling Down (Part 1 of the HOMELAND Series) Page 5

  As if on cue, a gravelly voice boomed, “Coffee break’s over! Back to work!” A gruff looking platoon sergeant appeared in their midst. Crowe stood a muscular six-foot-two and chomped an unlit cigar in his clenched jaw. “Sexton! Reyes!”

  “Yes, Sergeant!” The pair said in unison and came to parade rest.

  “In case you two ladies ain’t noticed, we got work to do.”

  “Yes, Sergeant!” The pair double-timed to their squad and dove into the day’s work.

  It was past midnight when Cole finally returned to his quarters. He slowly shed his uniform and sat gingerly on his bunk, feeling every inch of the hard miles he’d put on his body in the last seven years. He turned on the TV. Every channel was now a news channel. The banner across one of them read, ‘Dollar Collapses. Nation in Chaos’ He turned up the volume.

  It was Eduardo Garcia again. This time he sat at the anchor’s desk.

  Does this guy ever sleep?

  Garcia looked older under the studio lights. His jet black hair had more than a touch of gray and his eyes bore deep lines from years of squinting in the desert sun. He was a little long in the tooth for living in foxholes. Cole’s creaking joints and aching muscles told him he was, too.

  The newly minted anchor said grimly, “This footage is from New York City earlier today. I must warn our audience that these images are extremely graphic and disturbing.”

  The video was of a mob outside a bank. The glass doors were shattered. Men and women in business suits were being dragged out kicking and screaming across the broken shards. As they reached the crowd, they were beaten savagely with stones, bats, and anything else their assailants had on hand. An older business man was pulled away from the others and doused in gasoline. The banker begged on his knees for his life to the young man holding the gas can. The protestor kicked him in the face. As the executive renewed his pleas, a lit match landed next to him. His shrieks pierced through the noise of the mob dancing around him as he writhed in the flames of his melting flesh.

  Cole felt sick. This was as bad as anything he’d seen during his four combat tours in the Middle East, but it was happening at home.

  He turned the TV off and called his mother. “Hi, Mom. Sorry to call so late again.”

  “That’s okay, sweetie. You sound tired.”

  “Busy day, that’s all. How are you and Dad holding up?”

  “We’re okay. Things are getting a little crazy in town, though.”

  “Mom, tell Dad to be careful.”

  “Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll be fine.”

  “I mean it, Mom.”

  “Okay, sweetie. As long as you promise to be safe, too.”

  “Okay. I’ll do my best.”

  “Goodnight, sweetie. I love you.”

  “I love you too.” Cole hung up and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

  *****

  Sunday, November 1st

  04:23 AM

  Cole was jolted awake before dawn by pounding on his door.

  A voice on the other side yelled, “Formation in fifteen mikes—Full battle rattle! It’s go time!”

  Cole grabbed his gear and found Lieutenant Young outside battalion headquarters. He saluted and asked, “What’s going on, Sir?”

  “We’re moving out. Nashville’s a mess. The battalion is going to help with humanitarian aid. Don’t know exactly where yet. Consider this your warning order. Op-order in thirty minutes. Get your guys ready.”

  “Already on it, Sir.”

  An hour later, the platoon mounted up and rolled out the gate. Their objective was Vanderbilt Hospital sixty miles due south. Other platoons had different destinations, but the mission was the same: crowd control. The city was falling apart and overstretched local authorities were swamped. As the metropolitan skyline drew near, Cole saw dark smoke rise from countless fires inside the city. Across the median, the interstate was choked with cars trying to flee. The inbound lanes were clear but for the line of sand colored Humvees. Once again, Cole was running to the fight while others ran away. That was the job.

  The fight. Is that what this is?

  The phrase sounded alien here.

  What difference can one understrength division make in a population of one and a half million people?

  The answer lay ahead among the flames.

  He listened to the radio reports as each platoon split off the formation at its predetermined exit.

  “Charlie One-One moving to Objective Juice, time now.” First Platoon, Charlie Company was headed to a gas station.

  “Bravo Three-One moving to Objective Honcho, time now” Third Platoon, Bravo Company’s destination was the state capitol.

  “Bravo One-One moving to Objective Band-Aid, time now.” First Platoon, Bravo Company. It was Cole’s turn to go into the fray.

  Lieutenant Young addressed his platoon. “Keep your eyes open. Gunners maintain your sectors. All elements follow my move.”

  The platoon rolled from the quiet interstate to pandemonium. Burning vehicles slowed their progress. Looters darted in and out of gutted businesses, loaded down with everything from televisions to toilet paper as city police watched impotently from the safety of their squad cars. A few shop owners stood guard with shotguns from perches above their storefronts, blasting anyone who tried to force their way in. Bodies on the sidewalk below served fair warning to any who dared test their resolve.

  A woman slammed her body into the door of Cole’s Humvee. “Help! Please help!” she yelled through the bulletproof window. She looked behind her and screamed.

  Cole ordered Hicks, “Stop the truck!” He opened the door and tried to calm the frantic woman. “It’s okay, ma’am. We’re here to help.”

  “No! They’re coming! Help! We have to go!”

  “Who?”

  Hicks called to Cole, “Sarge! The L.T. says to get back in your effing Humvee and get moving!”

  “I got a situation here!” Cole looked up to see what the woman was running from. A gang of young men armed to the teeth was yards away.

  He ushered the woman to his vehicle and aimed his M4 carbine at the mob. “Back off!”

  They kept coming. Cole’s gunner swung the fifty caliber machine gun onto the would-be assailants. They froze.

  Cole said again, “Back off!” This time the thugs did as they were told.

  Cole helped the woman into his Humvee and the platoon moved out. Rocks pelted the convoy as soldiers watched scene after scene of carnage and depravity through thick Plexiglas windows. After what seemed like a hundred miles, they finally reached the hospital. The ground outside was littered with patients. Doctors and nurses rushed from one victim to the other, trying to conduct triage as best they could. Walking wounded crowded the emergency entrance, blocking the door. Cole had seen this before in Syrian refugee camps. Whether the staff knew it or not, that’s what this place was turning into. He couldn’t believe this was the same city he visited two nights before.

  Lieutenant Young ordered the vehicles to form a perimeter around the entrance to clear the way for medical personnel. The crowd wasn’t happy about it, but relented. Young went in to find the administrator. Cole helped his passenger from the Humvee “You’re safe now.”

  The woman sobbed. “They just pulled me from my car. I don’t know why. They tried to rape me. I was trying to get to my son’s school. He’s in the first grade. I never should have let him go this morning.”

  “Some of our guys are going to schools. Tell Private Hicks which one your son goes to and we’ll try to get you to him.” He gave her an MRE and a bottle of water, wishing he could do more.

  Cole noticed a nurse kneeling over an old man who was lying in the grass. Her blonde hair was pulled into a neat pony tail that fell gracefully over her shoulder as she treated a gash on the man’s forehead.

  Cole grabbed a first aid pack from the back of his Humvee and walked over to her. He squatted next to the pretty nurse and handed her the sterile bandage. “This will help.”


  “Thanks.” She examined the man’s head and asked Cole, “You have any water?”

  “One sec.” Cole ran to his vehicle and brought back some bottled waters.

  “Thanks again.” The nurse opened a bottle and washed out her patient’s wound, applied a spray-on antiseptic, and bound it with the dressing Cole gave her.

  The old man took her hand. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” She gave him another water. “Drink this. You’ll be fine. Just rest a while and call if you need me.”

  “You’re an angel,” the old man said.

  The man took the words right out of Cole’s mouth as he watched her brush a lock of hair from her deep blue eyes.

  She held a hand out to Cole. “I’m Amber.”

  He took it, hypnotized by the young nurse’s striking gaze. “I’m…Cole.” He regained his senses and looked at the multitude waiting for care. “You’ve got your hands full.”

  “It’s getting worse every hour. We’re already low on bandages and antibiotics. I don’t know how long we can keep this up.”

  “I’m here to help.”

  “Be careful what you offer. I’ll put you to work.”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  Someone yelled, “Help! Somebody help! Please! My little girl!”

  Cole saw a man carrying his daughter. She was pale and limp, her limbs dangling as he staggered through the crowd. Both were covered in blood.

  Cole ran to them and took the child into his arms as Amber asked, “What happened to her?”

  The father responded, “Car accident. Truck came out of nowhere.”

  Cole sprinted to the ER, holding the girl tightly. A doctor blocked him and said, “You can’t take her in there. We don’t have any more room.”

  Sergeant Crowe walked up and grabbed the doctor by the collar. “Make room.”

  The doctor wilted under the sergeant’s cold stare and iron grip. “I’ll squeeze her in someplace. Follow me.”

  Crowe took the child from Cole. Her eyes opened slightly and looked up at the crotchety sergeant. He said, “I gotcha, sweetheart. You’re gonna be okay.” He snapped at the doctor. “What the hell are you waitin’ for?”

  The doctor trotted into the hospital with Crowe and the girl close on his heels.

  Amber was true to her word. She worked Cole and his men relentlessly. He lost count of how many people they treated as the hours passed. For every one they helped, three more arrived in need of aid. By dusk, almost every inch of ground around the hospital was covered with wounded waiting for help.

  Streetlights came to life as Amber went back to the E.R. for more supplies, but returned empty handed. Her warm breath puffed in the chilled night air as she told Cole, “They’re out of everything. Do you have any more supplies?”

  “No. What little we had ran out hours ago.” He surveyed the mass of humanity sprawled across the grounds. “The temperature is dropping fast. If we don’t figure something out, most of these people will freeze to death by morning.”

  Crowe grabbed an MRE and a bottled water from his vehicle and yelled, “Hicks!”

  “Yes, Sergeant!”

  “Take these to the little girl we brought in a few hours ago then report back to me with her status.”

  “How do I find her, Sergeant?”

  “Just tell ‘em she’s the one I brought in. They’ll know who you’re talkin’ about. Her name is Becky. Tell her Sarge says hi.”

  “Will do, Sergeant.” Hicks sprinted into the hospital.

  Cole jested, “I always thought you had a heart in there somewhere.”

  Crowe saw Cole staring at him with a grin. “What the hell are you smilin’ at?”

  Cole tried to straighten his face. “Nothing, Sergeant.”

  “Then wipe off that shit eatin’ grin.”

  “Yes, Sergeant!”

  Smoke from the smoldering city burned Cole’s nostrils. The cold night bit at him through his Gor-Tex jacket. He gazed at the poor souls shivering on the hospital grounds, wondering how many would be alive come morning. The chatter and beeps of the Humvee radios filled his ears, making him feel detached from his surroundings. The audio didn’t match the visual.

  He looked at the blood smeared across his uniform. A little girl’s blood. American blood. This wasn’t supposed to happen here. This happened in Syria, Iraq, Afghanistan, and a hundred other places like them. But not here.

  Amber asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” Cole lied. “I’m good.”

  Sergeant Crowe walked up to them and said, “These people are gonna freeze if we don’t do something. Gimme a hand. I got an idea.”

  Cole, Amber, and several soldiers from the platoon helped Sergeant Crowe gather empty metal drums from inside the hospital and filled them with anything flammable.

  Crowe told them, “We’ll set these on the ground and keep ‘em burnin’ all night. Gather the wounded around them close as you can. Should keep hypothermia from settin’ in. A nice warm burn barrel saved my ass on many a cold night.”

  As the men set out the barrels, Crowe said to Cole in a low voice. “It’s time to think tactically. Prepare to defend this position.” He pointed to spots on the edge of the hospital grounds. I want fighting positions dug there, there, and there. You know the drill. Get moving.”

  Amber ran up to Cole. “What’s going on?”

  “We may have to defend this position.” Cole pointed to the hospital. “This place is full of drugs, food, and a bunch of other things people will need. If they’re desperate enough, they won’t think twice about killing us to get in.”

  Amber shudder as gunshots crackled a few streets away.

  Cole looked into her frightened eyes. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  Private Hicks reported back. “Where’s Sergeant Crowe?”

  “He’s over there.”

  The soldier ran over to Crowe. “I found Becky.”

  “How is she?”

  “She didn’t make it, Sergeant. The docs said there was nothing they could do.”

  Crowe stared at Hicks, his jaw grinding.

  Hicks added, “Her dad said to thank you.”

  “You take it from here,” Crow said to Cole, “I’ll check on the L.T…. Ain’t seen him in a while.” The platoon sergeant suddenly seemed old and tired.

  Crowe turned and walked back to the hospital, kicking a trashcan over with a curse. Cole saw him wipe his eyes before going in.

  The glow of fires in the city silhouetted the buildings nearby, casting ghostly shadows across Cole’s gaunt face as the last rays of sunlight disappeared. He looked at the sick and wounded civilians huddled around the fire barrels. The points of warmth shone brightly in the darkness. It looked as if the stars had fallen to Earth. Cole never believed in astrology, but he could easily read the ominous portents of these flickering terrestrial constellations.

  Shouts echoed in the twilight from the edge of the clearing.

  “Help!” a woman shouted.

  “Hey!” More yelling. A man this time. “Dammit!”

  Pop! Pop! Then screams. People running. Stampeding.

  “C’mon!” Cole and his men rushed toward the disturbance, weapons at the ready.

  A fire barrel went over. Flame danced across the frosty ground.

  “Freeze!” Hank shouted as he ran at the front of his troopers.

  A thug held a woman by the hair, her body shielding his, a gun to her head.

  At their feet lay a well-dressed man bleeding from several bullet wounds to the chest.

  “Back off or the bitch gets it!” the gunman yelled.

  Sergeant Crowe arrived next to Cole.

  “Take it easy,” he said to the gunman. “Put the gun down.”

  “You first, soldier boy.”

  “I’ll give you anything you want. Just don’t hurt me,” the woman sobbed.

  “You can’t win this one. So put it down. Now!” Crowe ordered.

  “Please, don�
�t let him hurt me,” the woman begged.

  “Screw you!” The gunman whipped his pistol about and shot the sergeant.

  Crowe staggered backward. Cole’s men returned fire as one. The shooter and the sergeant both hit the ground.

  “Sarge!” Cole knelt by Crowe. A chunk of the sergeant’s neck was gone. He coughed, spattering Cole’s face with blood.

  Crowe’s legs twitched, his eyes a mixture of terror and surprise.

  “Hang on, Sarge.” Cole grabbed his platoon sergeant’s hand.

  The veteran choked and gagged. His body went rigid, wide eyes staring into Cole’s. He relaxed with one last painful breath. His eyes still stared at Cole, but they did not see. He was gone.

  Cole looked to the gunman. He was dead. So was his hostage.

  Hicks started pacing. “Oh shit. Oh shit!” He looked at the bodies again. “Oh, God. Oh shit!”

  Lieutenant Young burst from the hospital. “We’re pulling out! Now! Mount up!”

  Cole remained motionless, still staring into those dead eyes.

  Something shook him. It shook him again. Cole looked up from his fallen sergeant to see Reyes shouting at him.

  “Sergeant Sexton! We gotta go!”

  Cole came to his senses. “What?”

  “Back to base! The L.T. said to mount up!”

  “We can’t leave these people.” He stood. “Put Sergeant Crowe’s body in my Humvee.”

  Cole ran to Lieutenant Young. “We can’t leave.”

  “We have orders.”

  “These are Americans—Americans we swore to protect.”

  “This is not the time, Sexton. Where’s Sergeant Crowe?”

  “Dead.” Cole pointed to the soldiers loading Crowe’s corpse into a Humvee. “It just happened.”

  Young cleared his throat. “I guess that makes you the platoon sergeant.” He pulled Cole aside and lowered his voice. “We have to pull out. We can’t hold the city together. Charlie Company is getting chewed to pieces a few blocks away. They’ve lost ten men including the company commander. The battalion’s spread too thin. We have to consolidate. We can’t help anybody if we get overrun.”

  More shouts sounded from the perimeter. More shooting. More screams. More panic.

  “Mount up!” Young ordered.