David nodded.
Bishop
showed
him
to
the couch in the reception area. After he was sure
the kid
was comfo
rtable, Bishop left in search of
water and to check on the injured man. He ran into Deacon Brown on the way down the stairs and told her where he had left David.
“He’s in a bad way right now. It will take a few hours for the shock to wear off
,
and then it will all come spilling out.”
Deacon Brown nodded her underst
anding and simply said, “I know.
I’ll say a prayer for him.”
After Bishop
made the rounds, he found a quiet corner in the basement and cleaned his rifle, repacked his gear and refilled his magazine. He washed off as best he could and set up his pack as a pillow and went to sleep.
M
ajor
Owens was a happy man for the first time in two months.
As he walked down the wide concrete steps of the Dallas City Hall building, he felt a new sense of purpose.
His beloved Ironhorse Brigade was
going into the field again
,
and it was way overdue.
Halfway
down
,
his
senior NCO
was waiting for him.
“Well
,
sir, what’s the skinny?”
“We’re moving
Frank
. Finally, command has seen fit to get proactive on this mess
,
and we’ve got a mission - a real one.”
“Outstanding
, sir. W
here are we going?”
“Do you like
Cajun
food?”
“These days
,
sir, I like
any
food.”
As
the
two men
continued down the board staircase, the m
ajor paused
to
take
in the scene one last time
.
An M1 Abrams tank was parked a
t each inters
ection surrounding city hall
. Between the tanks, precisely centered on the yellow
traffic
lines, were
sandbagged
machine gun
emplacements
.
Between the tanks and the sandbags, razor sharp concertina wire was strung
. Two outhouse sized guard shacks bord
ered
a narrow
gap in the wire
, which
was the only way to enter the
once public building. A line of people waited patiently to be searched before being allow
ed passage. The major absent-mindedly spoke out loud.
“My elementary school used to take field trips here to tour city hall. I got my marriage license here. I just can’t get over how this has all turned out.”
“None of us can
,
sir. Do you remember Baghdad in
‘
05? We couldn’t understand how people lived like that. At least
they
had food.”
The
S
e
rge
a
nt’s
comparison between the two cities was valid. In fact, the men had taken to calling city hall and its surrounding complex “the green zone,” named after the fortified area in the Iraqi capital used during the
reconstruction
.
Major Owens wondered if the military would e
ver learn. He had been a young lieutenant when the unit
deployed to Iraq. Th
eir
method of operation was to stay in
a
tightly guarded base during the night and conduct random patrols during the day. It didn’t take long for the terrorist
s
to figure that out.
When the American patrols were not around, they
squeezed the locals just like
organized crime syndicate
s
extorted entire streets.
It was only after Washington finally realized they were losing control of the country did things change. The fact that American boys were dying by scores probably had some influence as well.
Finally, when things looked v
ery bleak, their mission
changed. “Go out among the people,” was the new method. “Live, eat, sleep and be a part of the community,” was the theme of the new operational orders. It had worked
,
and the tide had been turned.
Just like Iraq, they were losing control of this city as well. Just like Iraq, they secured small sections of the city and conducted random patrols from their fortified bases. Just like before, it wasn’t working. No
one seemed
to have
learned any lesson
s
, and
the same mistakes
kept being repeated
. From what he heard, Dallas wasn’t the
only problem area. Why did the Pentagon think the A
rmy could pull this off
in the first place
? Hadn’t they learned anything from Iraq? It took thousands of troopers, private contractors and the kitchen sink to secure small sections of Baghdad
, a single city
. Why did command think they could handle forty such cities?
For the past
several
weeks,
they had been in Dallas trying to keep the peace with a population
that didn’t want them there. It sickened him to see one of the most potent fighting forces on the planet reduced to
the equivalent of
mere grocery clerks. Day after demoralizing day
,
his troopers had been required to guard and distribute food. That in itself wouldn’t have been so bad were it not for the fact that there never was enough food. Watching hungry mothers with small children beg for something to eat would break the spirit of any man. For all of their technology,
firepower,
and discipline,
Major
Owens knew his unit was quickly becoming a bit
ter, hollowed-
out shell of disgusted men.
For the first time in his military career, he was concerned he would lose control of his
command
if something didn’t change.
H
e couldn’t wait to get outside of the city limits and into the rolling countryside of northeast Texas. The air would be better, cleaner out here. The daily grind of watching thousands of his fellow Americans stand in line for half of the calories they really needed
could get to any man. He wondered if he would ever shake the image
s of those pallid, dark-
eyed souls staring at him, waiting to see if there would be food that day. To the once proud Texans who lived in Dallas, he and his men had evolved from being servants of the country to gods who controlled life and death.
The m
ajor
had been with the b
rigade for three years and was less than eight months
away from resigning
his commission and enter
ing
an early retirement
. He had planned to work at his brother-in-law’s
engineering firm
to supplement his
government
pay. Th
at new
lifestyle would allow for as much fishing as he could stand.
Well, that had been the plan anyway. Now, he wa
sn’t sure if Kansas City
even existed anymore. He hadn’t heard from his sister since the grid went down.
Regardless, he was glad they were moving out. The Ironhorse was a combined arms brigade designated as “heavy,” meaning they were armored. Equipped with the latest version of the M1A
2
Abrams tank, the old Calvary unit was a mobile wall of steel that had proven itself in every major conflict since WWI.
Soon enough he would be riding on top of his command tank with the wind in his face and a purpose
in his heart
. A mission he hoped would help him and his countrymen recover and start rebuilding once again.
Bishop awoke with a start. He slowly stretched the knots out of his muscles and rubbed his still sor
e head. It took him a bit more effort than usual
to get up from the floor where he had been sleeping
,
and he had no idea how long he had been lying there. From the stiffness
in
his body, it had been a while. He pushed the button on his watch
,
and the illuminated dial indicated it was 6:00 A.M.
Holy shit, I slept all night.
His mind was immediately flooded with several priorities, including finding a bathroom, checking on David, eating something
,
and figuring out how they were going to get to the campus and search for equipment.
As he slowly worked his limbs, he decided on the coffee as the highest priority, right after the bathroom.
I’m getting to
o
old to r
un around shooting and playing A
rmy. I wonde
r if they’ll ever re-establish Social S
ecurity.
After stretching for several minutes, he finally felt human enough to put on his gear and ascend to the main floor of the church. There were several small groups of people clustered here and there in the pews. He asked one of the patrons where the head was located and was given directions.
After finishing his business, Bishop immediately sought coffee. Again, friendly brethren pointed
him toward the kitchen,
which was in
a
separate building. H
e walked into a large
“
cafeteria-
esque”
room and found a line of sleepy people waiting to be served what appeared to be oatmeal. When he inquired about
coffee he was given a look of, “
Y
ou’ve got to be kidding
,” by the older woman manning the serving line. “We’ve got water,
water,
and more water
,
young man.”
Bishop held out his plate and watched as the
lumpy, semi-white blob of something was dumped on
the plastic
. He later o
verheard someone else comment, “G
rits
,
again,” but no one was seriously complaining. He took a seat at an o
pen table and proceeded to enjoy
his water
and swallow
the grits. He fought the temptation to pull out the small bag of ground coffee beans he had in his pack, worried it would
cause a riot. A shadow fell over him
,
and he looked up to see Deacon Brown standing behind him.
Atlas was behind her as usual.
“Good Morning
, Bishop. M
ind if I join you?”
“Not at all
, ma’am. P
lease have a seat.”
This was the first time he had seen the church elder in the daylight
,
and he had to admire her beauty. She seemed to notice Bishop staring at her and asked, “Do you have a wife
,
Bishop?”
“Yes
,
ma’am, I do. Her name is Terri
,
and she is with ch
ild right now. She is waiting for
me to return
to
Meraton.”
“I see. How long have you been married?”
And so the chitchat
continued until both had finished eating breakfast. As they stood to
take their plates to the kitchen
, Bishop inquired, “Have you seen David this morning?”
Deacon Brown smiled.
“Yes, he was still asleep on my couch when I went to the office a while ago. It’s good he is getting some rest.”
More and more people continued to enter the cafeteria as the hour got later. Bishop couldn’t help but notice mo
st
of them
looked drawn and tired. Eyes had dark circles, clothes hung loosely on shoulders
,
and strides were more like shuffles. Again, Deacon Brown’s perception of Bishop’s thoughts showed, “We are losing
,
Bishop. The other side, the skinnies some of the guys call them, have us pinned down
here. We can’t even send out men to hunt deer in the mountains. I’m not sure how long we can hold out.”
Bishop looked around to make sure no one wa
s within earshot.
“You have an insider problem
,
Deacon. I was going to talk to you about it later in private, but since you brought it up – you have a spy among your people.”
The woman across
from him looked down at her lap.
“I’ve been wondering about that for so
me time. But what makes you think so
?”
Bishop kept his voice low.
“Last night, they knew we were coming. It takes time to set up an ambush like that. Even if they had spotted us leaving the gate, which I’m sure they did, they still wouldn’t have had enough time to set that up. Someone warned them we were coming and knew
exactly
where we were going.”
Deacon Brown looked
up, anger and fire in her eyes.
“Th
at’s a pretty strong accusation
for someone who just arrived here. We lost two men last night trying to help you and have a third injured.” Atlas, sensing his mother’s tension, moved a step closer.
Bishop was about to respond when a commotion at the d
oor drew his attention. A sleepy-
looking David was being led into the room by three men. Bishop noted that one of his escorts was the fine gentleman who had struck Bishop, twice, while he was tied to the chair last night. Bishop had learned later the fellow went by the name of Hawk.