Invasion Read online

  Invasion

  Book Three of the Second American War

  By

  James Rosone & Miranda Watson

  Disclaimer

  This is a fictional story. All characters in this book are imagined, and any opinions that they express are simply that, fictional thoughts of literary characters. Although policies mentioned in the book may be similar to reality, they are by no means a factual representation of the news. Please enjoy this work as it is, a story to escape the part of life that can sometimes weigh us down in mundaneness or busyness.

  Copyright Information

  ©2019, James Rosone and Miranda Watson, in conjunction with Front Line Publishing, Inc. Except as provided by the Copyright Act, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1: A Glimmer of Hope

  Chapter 2: A War of Choice

  Chapter 3: Suwannee Rifles

  Chapter 4: Two Presidents

  Chapter 5: Northwest Passage

  Chapter 6: Decisions

  Chapter 7: Detention Camps

  Chapter 8: Tactical Surprise

  Chapter 9: Operation Snowman

  Chapter 10: Allegheny Bloodbath

  Chapter 11: Round One, China

  Chapter 12: The Hunt

  Chapter 13: United Nations

  Chapter 14: Battle of Chicago

  Chapter 15: Texas Nightmare

  Chapter 16: First Break

  Chapter 17: Partisans

  Chapter 18: Battle of Three Rivers

  Chapter 19: Connecting the Dots

  From the Authors

  For the Veterans

  Abbreviation Key

  Chapter 1

  A Glimmer of Hope

  January 17, 2021

  Pennsylvania

  Raven Rock Facility

  President Sachs noted how painfully quiet it was in the pitch-black tunnel under the Raven Rock facility. The temperature hovered in the low sixty degrees Fahrenheit—not quite cold enough to cause hypothermia, but not warm enough to keep the four of them from shivering in the dark.

  “Do you think they’re going to find us?” asked Lieutenant Commander Bullard, breaking the silence. He still had the nuclear football handcuffed to his hand; however, its batteries had run out of juice several days ago.

  “They’ll find us. We just need to keep the faith,” replied Harrison, their lone surviving Secret Service agent. “It’s only a matter of time until they locate the tunnel entrance and send someone in here.”

  “How can you be so sure they’ll ever find the tunnel?” asked the President, barely above a whisper. His mouth was so parched. He ached for a long drink of water and some food, maybe a nice fat juicy New York strip steak with a twice-baked potato. It had been almost a week since he’d had a real meal.

  “Between you and the football, Mr. President, they know where we are,” Harrison explained. “They may not know if we’re alive, but they know where we are. They’ll do whatever they can to find us—even if they think we’re dead, they’ll be searching for our remains.”

  “What I wouldn’t give for a glass of water right now,” General Austin Peterson remarked, speaking more to himself than anyone else.

  With nothing else to do in the damp quietness of the tunnel, the President’s mind drifted back again to how they had gotten into this situation in the first place. Sachs remembered the short-lived relief he’d felt when he’d sat on the tram and it had started moving toward the bunker complex at Raven Rock. The tram had nearly reached its destination when a thunderous explosion had rocked the earth around them. The tram had stopped abruptly, and they’d lurched forward from the inertia.

  General Peterson swore angrily. The reeling motion had caused pain to shoot through every fiber of his already injured body.

  Agent Harrison called out, “Hang on, everyone! This tram can operate on battery power.” There were a few moments of muffled noises as he searched for the switch, and then two beams pierced the pitch blackness around them. The air was thick with dust and smoke, which seemed to be streaming in from around the edges of the blast door ahead of them.

  The President coughed reflexively.

  Harrison walked back to the door and touched it cautiously. “Ow! Damn it!” He yanked his hand away and shook it feverishly. “There’s a fire behind this door,” he announced.

  “Well, that’s just lovely,” General Peterson remarked sarcastically.

  “Now what are we going to do?” asked Lieutenant Commander Bullard, concern and fear in his voice. “We barely made it out of Camp David alive.”

  “Well, obviously, we can’t go forward,” said Agent Harrison, still nursing his left hand. “Our only real option is to go back.”

  He sat back down in the tram, and they began their trek toward the violent death trap they’d just escaped. On the battery power, the tram traveled much slower, as if it knew they were marching solemnly to their demise.

  They’d only traveled about five hundred meters down the tunnel before they discovered a cave-in. They were trapped.

  “The tunnel goes several hundred meters under the actual mountain,” General Peterson explained. “If I had to guess, I’d say whoever attacked Raven Rock must have hit all four of the mountain’s tunnel entrances to cause this kind of cave-in. They would have had to use tactical nukes or bunker-busting weapons—this shouldn’t have happened.”

  There was a moment of awkward silence as the reality of their situation hit them.

  “Well…I guess rescuers would be more likely to find us near the bunker blast door than in the middle of this tunnel,” Agent Harrison postulated. “We could go wait closer to that end.”

  They pulled the tram forward again, and then Harrison announced, “We need to do an inventory of what we have down here. Everyone, empty your pockets.” Unfortunately, no one had so much as a granola bar or a pocketknife with them. The only supplies they had were in a small bag in the back of the tram: one flashlight with a fresh battery, an emergency first aid kit, two one-liter bottles of water and two IV bags of normal saline.

  They did their best to patch up General Peterson’s leg and gave him some Tylenol to help with the pain.

  “Go easy on the water, General,” Sachs told Peterson. “We don’t have that much for the four of us, and we have no idea how long it will take to be rescued.”

  “I’m going to propose that we only keep the tram headlights on for about ten minutes every five or six hours,” Agent Harrison suggested. “That way, we’ll be able to explore our surroundings and at least have some periods of light to keep us sane.”

  Time crept by so slowly in the perpetual midnight. President Sachs found that he had to stop checking his watch—every time he hit the button to light up the display, he was remarkably disappointed by how few hours had elapsed.

  About two days in, Bullard made an announcement during one of their explorations. “Hey, guys, I think we have a problem.”

  “What is it?” asked Agent Harrison.

  “There’s a crack in the wall that’s leaking water.”

  They all walked over briskly to examine the issue.

  “Bullard, that’s not a problem—it’s a freaking miracle,” said General Peterson.

  “How do you figure?” asked Sachs.

  “It’s leaking really slowly. There’s not enough water coming in to threaten us, but it might just help us survive,” explained Peterson. “Harrison, can you bring me the first aid kit?”

  With the deft hand of a survivalist, the general took several of the unused bandages and packed the cloth into the crack. Then he broke off the to
p of the plastic container that housed the first aid supplies and placed it under the end of the fabric.

  “This is going to take a while to fill up. My best guess is we might half fill this container top in a couple of hours. We should all take turns—Mr. President, you’ll go first, then Lieutenant Commander Bullard, then Agent Harrison, and I’ll go last. Make sure you place this lid back underneath to catch whatever water we can.”

  “I don’t know how clean this will be, but it has to taste better than the pee we’ve been drinking,” Sachs said sarcastically. Agent Harrison had suggested at the outset that they collect their urine. No one had liked the idea, but they all acknowledged that they were going to have to get creative to find ways to stay hydrated long enough to get rescued and see their loved ones again.

  The crack on the wall had been discovered three days ago. Not much had happened since then. It left an awful lot of time for the men to think…and for their minds to play tricks on them.

  Sachs started hearing noises, but he wasn’t sure if they were real or just another figment of his imagination. He waited several minutes before he finally asked, “You guys hear that?”

  “I hear something,” Peterson confirmed. “Although I have no idea what it is.”

  They listened intently. “Is that a jackhammer?” asked Bullard.

  “It’s hard to tell…it’s so far away,” said Peterson.

  The volume grew slowly over time. There seemed to be some other type of machinery running on the other side of the blast door as well. Then, to their dismay, the noises stopped abruptly.

  “Hey—we’re in here!” shouted Agent Harrison. He tapped on the blast door with the flashlight, hoping the clanging would echo and alert the people on the other end of their presence. The noises on the other end did not return.

  Periodically, one of them would use the flashlight to tap on the wall, but it was to no avail. A full twenty-four hours went by without even a hint of activity.

  They sat in the tram, trying their best to catch some rest while they waited, but the silence was excruciating.

  “Did you hear that?” asked Lieutenant Commander Bullard suddenly.

  Sachs sat up in the darkness, holding his breath as he listened to the quiet of the tunnel. His senses slowly returned to him from that groggy place of disoriented sleep, and then he heard the most beautiful clamor of his life.

  “Sounds like the jackhammer is back,” he said.

  “I think it’s getting louder,” Bullard confirmed.

  Agent Harrison turned the flashlight back on and walked to the blast door. He put his ear against the cold steel before shutting off the light to conserve the battery.

  “I can feel the vibrations through the door,” he announced. “They’re definitely chipping away at whatever is on the other side.”

  The pounding stopped for a minute, and Harrison used the back of the flashlight and tapped against the steel door, hoping that whoever was on the other side might hear him. The machinery kicked back up, and there was nothing to do but wait.

  Slowly, the noise grew louder. The President was almost certain that whatever digging machine was on the other side was now nearly at the door. After some time, the racket stopped. Agent Harrison immediately tapped on the metal with his flashlight.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  “Oh my gosh—did they actually hear us?” asked Sachs.

  Harrison quickly tapped on the blast door again.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  At this point, Harrison turned on the light and whacked the door forcefully.

  Bang, bang, bang.

  This time, something much more substantial pounded on the steel door.

  “Holy crap! They can hear us!” shouted Harrison excitedly.

  “Try using Morse code!” shouted Bullard, their lone Navy guy.

  “I don’t know Morse code…hell, who cares. They know we’re here. That’s all that matters.” Agent Harrison pounded on the door several more times, which was answered with a few more bangs from the other side. Then the jackhammer started back up again.

  The excavation on the other side went on for several more hours. Then, there was silence once again. Just when Sachs was starting to wonder if their rescuers had abandoned them, he heard a new noise. This time it sounded like a high-pitched dental drill. That brain-piercing hum went on for probably ten or fifteen minutes until a small hole in the blast door appeared, and a tiny light flooded into their dark world.

  “Hello? Can anyone hear us?” came a voice from the other side.

  “Oh my God. Yes. We can hear you! Please get us out of here,” shouted Agent Harrison excitedly.

  “Is the President still alive? Is he with you?”

  “Yes. Sachs is still alive. He’s here.”

  “Can you please identify who all is with you?” asked the voice from the other side.

  Agent Harrison seemed to shift mindsets in that moment. “How about you tell me who you are first, and then I’ll tell you who all is in here with me.”

  Sachs heard some voices talking on the other end before a new voice spoke through the hole. “My name is Liam Pritcher. I’m with the Army Corps of Engineers. We’ve been trying to dig our way to this tunnel for six days. I know you don’t have any way to verify who I am, so you’re just going to have to trust us. Believe me; if we didn’t want to rescue the President, we wouldn’t have spent six days trying to dig through this rubble to get to you guys.”

  After a couple of seconds of calculating, Harrison responded. “I’m Special Agent Darnell Harrison with the Secret Service.” He let out a deep breath. “I have the President, along with Lieutenant Commander Ashton Bullard, who has the nuclear football, and General Austin Peterson, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. The general is injured and desperately needs medical attention. The rest of us are fine, other than being dehydrated and hungry. Is it possible for you to pass some water through to us?”

  There was some murmuring on the other end. “Hold on, Agent Harrison. We’re going to try and get a hose down there and see if we can run it through the hole. Once we get you guys hydrated, we’ll bring in a plasma torch. You’ll need to move further away from the blast door back into the tunnel. The locking mechanism on the door is in place, so there’s no way for us to open the door easily. We’ll have to burn a hole that’s large enough for you guys to crawl out. It could take the better part of a day, but we’ll make it happen.”

  The President and the other men that had been trapped all reacted differently. Agent Harrison did his best to conceal the tears of joy in his eyes. Bullard let out a “Yes!” and pumped his fist in the air. General Peterson showed little external reaction other than to let out a deep sigh. The President didn’t know how to respond at all—he felt like crying and laughing at the same time.

  “Oh, by the way, it’s damn good to know that you guys are alive,” said Liam from the other side of the door. “We’d nearly given up hope on finding you guys.”

  Sachs made his way over to the hole. “This is President Sachs. Who’s in charge of the government right now…and how’s the war going?”

  “Vice President Powers has taken over as the acting President until we could confirm you were either alive or dead. He’s been running the country in your absence,” Liam explained. “As to the war, well, let’s work on getting you guys out of here first. What I can tell you is we’re not losing.”

  The President grunted at the response. “Fair enough, Liam. I’m glad Luke’s taken over. Please send a message to him and let him know we’re alive and doing well. We’re looking forward to getting out of here.”

  “Will do, sir. Now, if you’ll excuse me, we’re going to go find a hose so we can get you guys something to drink before we start using the torch to cut a hole in this door.”

  President Sachs turned to the three men he’d been stuck in the tunnel with for the last six days. “Gentlemen, when we get out of here, I want you all to know that you guys are coming to the White House for a well-earned priv
ate meal with me and the First Lady. I can’t thank you enough for not losing faith, even when I felt like I had. You guys kept me alive, and you kept the spirit of America alive in each of us.” He paused for a moment. Then, with renewed vigor, he added, “We’re going to win this war, gentlemen. God have mercy on those bastards for what they’ve done to us because I sure as hell won’t.”

  *******

  Washington, D.C.

  White House

  An aide walked into the Oval Office just as acting President Luke Powers was signing off on a few documents. The aide stopped in front of his desk, waiting for Powers to acknowledge her presence.

  Pausing what he was doing, Luke looked up at the aide. “Oh, hi, Linda. I finished signing those documents for Homeland. Can you please have them processed?” he said as he pointed to the outbox on the right corner of his desk.

  Smiling, Linda replied, “Yes, Mr. Vice President. Not a problem…um, sir…we just got a message from the rescue crew at the Raven Rock facility. They believe they may have found the President alive. Rich Novella asked for you to come down to the Situation Room. They’re working on getting some more information from the crew there.”

  Vice President Powers lifted his left eyebrow, and then a broad smile spread across his face.

  “Then, by all means, let’s head down to the Situation Room, Linda.”

  Linda scooped up the paperwork and then led the way down the hall. As soon as Powers walked into the Situation Room, he saw a secured video teleconference had been set up. He quickly ascertained that the image on the other end was the engineering crew at Raven Rock. A small hole had been drilled into an imposing steel door. Suddenly, he heard the voice of the President.

  Turning to the rest of the folks in the room, the Vice President asked, “Can they hear us?”

  Rich nodded. “They can. You want to say something to them?”

  Powers nodded.

  Rich unmuted their connection. “Excuse me, gentlemen. This is Rich Novella, the President’s Chief of Staff. I have acting President Powers here with me. We’d like to know if we could say something to President Sachs.”