Conflicted Home (The Survivalist Book 9) A American (fun to read .TXT) 📖

“It was a calculated risk. We knew when we hit the Chinese, they would retaliate.”

“What did we lose there?”

“A lot. But not as much as we would have had we not moved most of the resources. But it was still a tremendous loss.”

Sarge nodded as Fawcett spoke. “Yes, it was. What’s it look like on the ground in the Tampa area now?”

“It’ll be uninhabitable for a hundred years,” Fawcett replied. He then looked at his desk, sorting through the papers. Finding one, he held it up and read from it. As he did, he said, “Tell me about the run-in with the armor.”

“We were out doing a recon and came across them sitting on top of an overpass. They had a good field of view. It was the perfect spot. We hit one with a Goose, but took a round into the ass of one of our trucks.”

Fawcett looked back at the sheet in his hand. “One KIA?”

Sarge nodded.

“Do you know who they were?”

“Cubans.”

Fawcett nodded. “Yeah, figured as much. The Russians are teaming up with them. Fortunately, there aren’t that many Russians here. It’s a long ride for them.”

“One is too many,” Ted added.

Fawcett dropped the paper to his desk. “Well, there shouldn’t be too many more. The Navy has started sinking any ships approaching Cuba. The USS Albany and Helena are down there, wreaking havoc on shipping.”

“What are those?” I asked.

Fawcett looked at me, smiled and nodded. “Good to see you again, Sheriff. They’re Los Angeles-class fast-attack subs. Hunter-killers.”

“So, what do you need from us?” Sarge asked.

Fawcett sat back in his chair and ran his fingers through his hair, that was probably grayer than he wanted it to be. Letting out a breath, he picked up a file folder and opened it. “Top, we’ve identified a few sites we’d like your people to prosecute. They’re staging areas. We know there are Russian and Cuban forces there.” He looked up, “But, as you can imagine, we’re spread a little thin.”

“Why don’t you just bomb them with planes or drones?” I asked.

“All air assets are tied up flying CAP. Combat Air Patrol,” he added, as though I didn’t understand.

“I know what it means.”

He brushed off my reply and continued. “We just can’t support those kinds of operations. Only time a plane is used in a ground attack mode is if we have troops in contact. And even then, it has to be an emergency. The days of the unlimited use of force are over. Simply put, we have to triage what’s more important. And at the moment, it’s making sure that unfriendly aircraft are not in the skies overhead.”

“Are we getting any support on that?” Sarge asked.

Fawcett nodded. “The Canadians are helping. They’ve stabilized their southern border that was affected and they’ve cranked up the aid now. We are literally getting tons of support from them every day. The Brits are helping as well, as are the Aussies. But that’s about it.”

“Sounds like a lot to me,” I replied. Sarge shifted in his seat. I guess I was getting on his nerves, but I wasn’t done. “That’s good, General. Can you spare some for the poor people of Lake County? We need aid as well.”

Sarge swiveled in his chair and looked at me. But Fawcett was unfazed, “It’s ok, Top,” Fawcett said before turning his attention back to me. “Of course, Sheriff. We will give until it hurts. What sort of things do you need?”

I reached into my vest and pulled out a Wright in the Rain notebook and tore a page out. I’d made a list of things while sitting in the backseat. No doubt, I had missed things; but it was a long list. I handed the paper to Fawcett. He looked at it and his eyebrows went up.

“You know I can’t accommodate all this, right?”

I nodded. “Just give until it hurts, General.”

He nodded and a thin smile cracked his face. Picking up a radio on his desk, he made a call. “Jim, can you come in here, please?”

There was a terse reply and moments later, a man with gold oak leaves on a pressed uniform came in. Fawcett held out the list and said, “Jim, can you go to supply and see what we can do about the Sheriff’s shopping list?”

Taking the list, he replied, “Of course.” He looked at me and held a hand towards the door, “After you, Sheriff.”

“Take the truck, leave the MRAP here,” Sarge said as I got to the door. I nodded and followed Jim.

“Just follow me,” Jim said as we went outside. “Keep the headlights off.”

Jamie and Ian were standing beside the truck talking. “Let’s follow him,” I told Jamie.

I climbed up in the cab and sat in the middle seat and Jamie drove. She seemed to have a thing for driving. Maybe it was the novelty of it now. Jamie followed Jim’s Hummer as it wound its way through the base, eventually stopping at a large warehouse-type building. Jim stopped his truck and ran back to tell Jamie to back up to a loading dock on the side of the building. She did as instructed.

As she pulled the air brake on, she asked, “What’s this all about?”

Waiting for Ian to get out, I replied, “We’re going shopping.”

“Something you’re good at,” Ian joked as he opened the door.

“Really?” Jamie asked with a very serious look on her face. “That’s what I’m good at? Shopping? Shopping is what I’m good at?” Her head bobbed with every word.

The joke faded from his face and he half moaned, “I’m sorry.”

Jamie threw her door open and replied, “Oh, you just think you are now.” She jabbed a finger in his face, “But I can promise you, you will be.” She then jumped down from the truck.

Ian and I both looked at one another. “That woman is scary,” I said. “I fear for your safety.”

Ian nodded. “So do I.”

We walked through a side door and into a cavernous warehouse. The space was brightly lit and was bustling