The Soldier

Two things told Caitlin she was recovering from the tranquilizer dart that lodged in her shoulder in the observation tower. First, she hurt like hell. Second, a serious case of dry mouth that made her feel like she could drink the entire Atlantic Ocean, salt and all.

Confusion set in as she realized she was not where she should have been. She was laying on a cot of some sort that felt decidedly unfamiliar. It was not the bed she had been sleeping in in the Minuteman camp. It was also not her bed at home. She was hoping it would have been her bed at home and the entire ill-fated mission to America was going to turn out to be one heck of a dream. But no such luck.

Slowly her memory began to return. She had been on lookout for the Minutemen as they prepared to move their camp. She hadn’t seen a thing, or heard the slightest sound that would have indicated any impending trouble for the Americans. Then there was a pain in her side, then nothing. And now she was here, where ever in hell here was.

OK, think. You’ve been captured by the Federals. But why? And where? You need information so start looking for it.

As she became more aware of herself and her surroundings, she realized that whatever had happened to her since her capture, her hair had very conveniently come loose form the pony tail it was in and was now laying across her face. She opened her eyes to mere slits, hoping that if anybody was watching their captive they would not be able to tell that she was awake.

From her position, all she could tell was that she was indeed in a cell of some sort. She could not hear any other prisoners so she assumed that, for the moment at least, she was the only one there. There was no one visible through the bars, but that did not rule out the very likely possibility that she was on camera and her captors would know the moment she became visibly awake. And given her options, which weren’t many, she couldn’t see a reason to delay that moment any further.

But not wanting to let on how long she had been awake and how well she far along the road to recovery she was, Caitlin put on a big show of opening her eyes, appearing shaky and slowly forcing herself into a sitting position.

At first, nothing happened. Caitlin stood and walked to the bars at the front of the cell. She tried to look up and down the corridor, but could see nothing. She was sure there were other cells, but again, no sound to indicate the presence of any other prisoners. She tried to look casually around to spot any hidden cameras, but couldn’t. She fought the urge to just call out to her captors who she knew were monitoring her, but decided to play dumb and just wait them out.

She didn’t have to wait long. Although whoever her captors were had taken her watch, she judged that it had been less than an hour before she heard a door open, followed by footsteps on the concrete floor. Moments later, a man and a woman, both wearing some uniforms of some sort, stood before her cell.

“Ah, our little hacker is awake I see,” the man said.

Caitlin fought to keep her face even, to not let this American know how surprised she was that he knew, or suspected, that she had been poking around the American computer network.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I haven’t even seen a computer in years,” she said, trying to mimic Mandy’s speaking patterns to hide her accent as much as possible.

“Nice try, sweetheart,” the man said. “But the evidence we recovered when our patrol captured you indicates otherwise.”

Caitlin’s heart sank. Apparently, her watch wasn’t the only thing they took. The man was holding up her portable jump drive that she normally wore on a lanyard around her neck. An old habit from when she would write code to pass the time while testing video games. Right now, she would give anything to be watching some digital version of British soldier on a make-believe battlefield instead of sitting in an unknown jail cell in an America that she wouldn’t have believed existed if someone had tried to tell her.

“Look bub, I don’t know what that is who told you they found it on me, but I’ve never seen, whatever the hell that that thing is, before.”

The man sighed.

“Look, we can dance around this all day. We know who you are, well, we don’t know your name yet. But we think we know where you came from and how you got here.”

“All right, then, why don’t you tell me where I came from and how I got here. And while you’re at it, would you mind telling me exactly where ‘here’ is, and who the hell you are?”

“For starters, I’m Major Phillip Zino, American Defense Force. My partner is Colonel Alicia Cox, with the ADF’s aerospace section. And at the moment, you are sitting in a holding cell inside the South Carolina docking port, or what’s left of it after you and your friends rigged that freighter’s reactor to go critical and blow itself to pieces. It will take most of a year to get this port facility back in full operation, meaning even more shortages for Americans.”

Caitlin felt like she was spinning into a black abyss. The Americans seemed to have her neatly boxed up with no place to go.

“To continue the story,” Zino said. “We know that a small group managed to fight its way out of the Charleston docking port several weeks back. What we thought happened is that they were killed by a patrol that was sent out after them. At least that’s what the patrol leader reported. Seems he was somewhat less than truthful with his superiors.

“So, we assume that you are one of those who infiltrated America for reasons unknown on that freighter. Then several days ago, one of our computer monitors in Orlando thought he detected an intrusion. He finally nailed it down this morning to a 25-square mile area of South Carolina. We wanted the intruder, so we sent patrols out with specific instructions to find you. We couldn’t care less about those so-called minutemen that you were with. We’ve known about their encampment almost since they set up shop a little more than a year ago. Our satellites are not as blind as we let the general populous think.”

“Oh,′ Caitlin said, realizing her options were becoming severely limited.

“Oh, indeed,” Zino said. “So now, I have two favors to ask, well three. First, drop the fake American accent, it’s not very good. Two, favor me with your name so we’ll know what to call you and three, why in God’s name did you attempt such a doomed venture in the first place?”

“All right then,” Caitlin said in her normal voice, resigning herself to her fate.

“Ah, Scottish,” Zino said with a smile. “I’ve always loved the Scottish accent. Now, your name?”

“It’s Anderson. Caitlin Anderson.”

“And why you’re here?”

“Sorry. My friends are still out there and I won’t betray them,” she said.

“Have it your way, “Zino said. “But it doesn’t really matter if you tell us what your friends are up to or not. We suspect that whatever the reason, it’s been made a whole lot more difficult since they’ve lost their computer specialist. But we’ll keep an eye on them just the same.

“Now, as for you . . .”

“If I promise to stay out of your network,” Caitlin said, “I don’t suppose you would just let me go on my merry way?”

“No, I’m afraid that is definitely not an option,” Cox said. “We have plans for you, Ms. Anderson.”

“And those would be?” Caitlin asked, turning to look at American female.

“You will be coming with me to Kennedy Space Center.”

“To do what, Major Cox?”

“To be put to work on a special project that needs, shall we say, an infusion of fresh blood. New ideas.”

“And that project would be?”

“You will find out when we get there, and even then, you will only be told what you need to know to do what we ask of you.”

“And if I refuse?”

“That,” Cox said, “is another option that does not exist for you.”

Jonathan Kelley paced nervously around the camp. The Minutemen had reached the third stop in their journey South to Fayetteville, and still no sign of Logan or Mandy.

“What’s up, Jon?” asked Jacob Thornton, who was covering for Mandy as Jon’s second.

“Nothing, well not nothing. Just concerned that Logan and Mandy haven’t made it back yet. Thinking about sending a party back to check on them.”

“Not necessary, Mandy’s good. She knows how to avoid trouble. And if trouble found them, it’d be too late for one of our patrols to be able to anything more than probably get nabbed themselves.”

“You’re right, of course,” Jonathan said. “You’re going to make a great second, if not unit commander someday, Jake.”

“From your lips to God’s ear,” Jake said. “Come on. The sun’s getting high in the sky, and you need to grab some chow and some rest. They’ll be a long before you know it.”

Jonathan watched the trucks rumble out onto what was left of I-20. He knew it was a risk letting them roll just before sundown, but he felt it was a calculated risk that allowed them to get to the next planned stop and get some of the essentials set up before the main unit got there just before dawn.

“All right, let’s mount up,” Jonathan said to Jake, who then sprinted off to pass the order along to the various section heads.

The unit had a standard movement procedure. First out was an advanced scouting party who had the unenviable job of flushing out any Federal patrols waiting in ambush along the route. The main contingent kept a one-mile separation from the scouting party, maintaining an open mike with the scout’s leader, allowing Jonathan to hear if an attack happened even if the leader was taken too quickly to sound the alert verbally.

Another squad made up a rear defense point, ensuring that they wouldn’t be caught by surprise if a Federal patrol allowed them to pass by so they could attack from the rear.

“I’m going to hang back with the rear guard,” Jonathan said. “I want you near the front of the main unit, monitoring the open line to the scouting party.”

" Understood,” Jacob said as he shouldered his rifle.

“They’ll be along,” he repeated in a reassuring tone.

Without another word, Jacob and walked off.

“I hope you’re right,” Jonathan said.

About an hour later, the sun was approaching the horizon and the rear guard was moving out. Jonathan stood and stretched, looked once more towards the forest behind him then slung his own rifle over his shoulder. He had only taken a dozen or so steps before a familiar voice called out from the gathering darkness.

“Hey, you gonna’ leave us behind?”

Jonathan turned to see Mandy walking into the clearing, with Logan close behind. There was no one else.

“You didn’t find her?”

“Not a bloody sign of her at all,” Logan said. “No indication of a struggle of any sort. I suspect they got her completely by surprise. They may have even darted her for all I know.”

“Darted?”

“Sorry, a slang term from my military days,” Logan said. “Tranquilizer gun.”

“Very possible,” Jonathan said.

“How’s the move going?” Mandy asked.

“Smooth as silk,” Jonathan said. “Everyone knows their jobs and is doing what they need to do. I’m very pleased with how it’s going so far. With that said, we need to get a move on.”

“What about Caitlin?”

Jonathan looked at Logan.

“I suggest you forget about her. I know that sounds cold, but here are the facts. One, we have no idea where she is, or where she is going to end up. And two, even if our people got wind of where she is, we don’t have the people or the firepower to stage any kind of a rescue effort.”

“Well, you’ll forgive me if I continue to hold onto some hope that we can get her out of wherever she is,” Logan said. “If possible, I never leave a comrade in enemy hands. So if you hear anything. ”

“You’ll be the first to know,” Jonathan said. “But it’s not very likely anytime soon. We won’t set up the radio until we get to Fayetteville.

“Now let’s move out.”