Cassandra

---

Alex sat in the right side seat of the Typhoon as the driver turned off the highway onto a dirt road. The entrance to the road was almost invisible, difficult to find even if one was aware of its location. All the vehicles in the operation had been painted to make them difficult to see from the air, their predominantly medium grey color blended with the asphalt roads they would be on most of the time. Rolling down a dirt road with a trailing plume of dust was not optimal, but the target was close and soon they would be invisible from above as they entered the surrounding forest.

Eleven more of the armored fighting vehicles were converging on the area, having been hidden around the countryside just minutes away. They should all hit the main entrance and two smaller gates at about the same time. The entire base was less than half a square mile in area, roughly square, with a double fence around it. Patrols inside and out, and between the fences, where the main defense. The fences would not stop anything except people, but the constant surveillance would immediately alert the defenses once they arrived.

The inside information they had indicated that there were unlikely to be much more than five hundred personnel. Six hundred would be the absolute maximum, a couple of their informants had told them. A considerable number of them would be support personnel - capable of fighting but unlikely to have weapons at hand at any given time. Probably a hundred or more would be in the woods and patrolling the perimeter - secrecy and vigilance were apparently their primary defense. Neither would avail them anything, thought Alex as they entered the woods, not moving as fast as the driver dared along the narrow trail.

Gordon and Tyler were in two of the other Typhoons, and Alex waited for a call to indicate their position. He didn't have to wait long before Gordon reported.

"Just hit the trees," he said.

"We're about a minute in," Alex replied, as Tyler joined them.

"We're in now," Tyler said.

The installation was roughly in the center, so they should all hit it at about the same time.

"Report by numbers," Gordon called. He was the operational commander, and they were counting on his years of combat experience.

One by one the remaining units called in. About another minute, thought Alex, as two men stepped out of the woods into the trail and immediately raised their rifles and fired a few rounds before wisely returning to the cover of the trees. The gunner in the turret above them didn't even waste ammunition on them - the Typhoon was impervious to small arms fire. It was the larger anti-armor weaponry they had to worry about.

Suddenly they were in open terrain and the high double fence loomed ahead. More small arms fire was hitting the vehicle now, and the windshield was acquiring a collection of scars. Trails of flame and smoke indicated rockets being fired. They were moving too fast for anything except a shot fired from directly in front of or behind them, and the driver was now making course changes as quickly as the vehicle was able to, then they were through the fence and on one of the wide road with large metal buildings on either side, the turret gunner spraying anything wearing a uniform. He could see a couple of other Typhoons, one crossing an intersection just ahead of them, another headed their way.

The drivers of the Typhoons began circling the outer streets, firing at any uniformed personnel, which was all they were seeing. Alex heard Gordon's voice in his headset. "Remember 121. Advise when sighted and avoid firing in the vicinity."

Building 121 was believed to be the prison, and they wanted to avoid accidental injury to any of the prisoners.

The fleet of smaller vehicles operated by the Reds and Blues, with their militia units, were pouring in behind them now. The irregulars, as Gordon called them, had been divided into two units of a hundred men each, with one under the command of the Red group with the other under the Blues. At only half the size of the force they were attached to, the militia units would be easier to control.

Kurt's men were similarly assigned, half to each force. There were now well over eight hundred men swarming the streets, and if any enemy troops were alive they were not showing themselves.

"We got 121" shouted someone. "Looks like we're near the southeast corner, big white building with a green roof."

"Secure the building and wait," Gordon said. "Alex, get over there and take charge."

"Yes sir." replied Alex. "On our way."

Gordon's vehicle, meanwhile, followed by Tyler's, was circling what they believed was the command center. The large building had no windows, but there were two large glass doors on one side, large enough to accommodate a Typhoon. "Hit it," he ordered the driver. "Just be sure you go in dead center - we don't know how strong the building frames are."

The driver accelerated ahead, crashing through the doors and emerging into a large area of what looked like rather flimsy walls. They did not even feel any resistance as the Typhoon crashed through one after another. A few personnel were sighted, frantically fleeing with varying degrees of success. Gordon felt an occasional bump that he suspected was one who didn't make it. The driver slowed slightly to avoid suddenly encountering the end of the building, turning when he judged it was near, then went back down the other side of the interior, finally exiting through the ruined entrance.

"Red and Blue, report," Gordon called.

Red leader responded first. "We've got it fairly quiet in our sector. About forty or so prisoners, no more resistance."

"Excellent," said Gordon. "Keep it that way. Blue leader, what do you have?"

"Same here," Blue leader replied. "We've got it buttoned down, no more visible enemies. We're fairly certain there some hiding inside, but they're not offering any resistance at this point."

"Very good," Gordon said. "We're at headquarters, attempting contact with command now. Alex, give me a quick update."

"We're inside, Sir. It's the prison all right, and it's pretty bad. We could use some medical assistance here when there's some to spare."

"After Red and Blue have their casualty situation under control, the prisoners are the next priority," Gordon said. He didn't bother to state the obvious - enemy casualties would be the last to be taken care of.

Gordon's command vehicle was equipped with a loudhailer, and he now spoke into the microphone, his voice echoing around among the metal buildings.

"Whoever is in command in there, show yourself at the door. You have three minutes to comply. If you do not, we'll be back to finish what we started."

They did not have to wait long. In less than a minute a man appeared at the door. By now two more Typhoons had joined them - the remainder were patrolling the area to discourage any further resistance. A dozen or of the smaller improvised vehicles operated by the Red and Blue forces had assembled around them, their machine guns pointed menacingly at the building, and some of the crew members, armed with rifles, had taken up positions behind them.

"Walk this way," Gordon commanded. "Keep your hands in sight."

The man, in an Army uniform, walked toward them, eventually stopping in front of Gordon's vehicle. Leaving his seat, Gordon exited through the back. The ramp had been lowered and the ten men inside were standing outside.

"A couple of you men go bring him back here," he said.

As he waited, he lit a cigarette. He had been wanting one for what seemed like hours, although as he checked his watch he realized the operation had been underway for less than twenty minutes. They had another fifteen to be on their way. Fort Hays was only about ten minutes away by air, but they had no combat aircraft. The nearest ones were over a half hour away, and ground traffic from Fort Hays would be at least that long.

The man they returned with was disheveled and dirty - and looked quite dejected. A colonel - he wondered if the man was one of the misfits with which the Army staffed units like this one. He wasn't holding up very well - likely the bureaucratic political operative that had always plagued the officer corps, though never in such numbers as now.

Gordon looked at him as he finished his cigarette, noting the name. Peterson. He looked young for a colonel. Dropping his cigarette and grinding it out on the gravel surface, Gordon looked him in the eyes.

"Colonel Peterson," he said, "you can order your personnel to stand down, assuming any of them are alive and able to continue, or we will finish them off, and you and your headquarters with them. Do that and we will be out of here in a few minutes. I don't want to hear anything from you except whether you intend to comply."

"All right," Peterson said. "Can I have a man come out to take the order?"

"Go ahead," Gordon replied.

Peterson keyed the mike on his radio.

"Yes Sir," a voice said.

"Robert," said Peterson, "give the order to stand down. All men are to remain where they are and await further orders."

"Yes sir," replied Robert.

"Wait here," Gordon said, going back into the vehicle.

He called the Red and Blue teams and found the situation calm. We're down to ten minutes now, he thought. "Make a prudent withdrawal to the egress assembly point," he ordered. Meaning withdraw but watch your back.

"Alex," he called. "How are you doing?"

"The prisoners are ready to go," Alex replied. "Twenty two total, decent physical shape."

Then after a pause, "Make that twenty three. This one is special, if you know what I mean."

"What do you need?" asked Gordon.

"I can't put this one in the general transport," Alex said. General transport was several ambulances and a handful of buses which had entered the area after the battle was underway. Once the prison was secured and the fighting around it had stopped, they had begun loading the freed prisoners onto them.

"I'll have to take her back in my vehicle," he said.

Gordon was somewhat intrigued, but that was what the after-action reviews were for. Whatever it was, Alex knew what he was doing.

"Go ahead and egress now," he told Alex. "We're about finished here. I'll catch up with you later."

"Affirmative," said Alex. "See you later."

Gordon remained in the vehicle, coordinating the withdrawal, occasionally looking over at the hapless Colonel Peterson standing outside. He was going to be one unhappy man, thought Gordon. He grinned slightly as he thought of the investigations that would ensue. Peterson wasn't the only one in trouble - he would be a scapegoat, of course, but there would be a lot of worried people higher up the food chain.

---

Alex was in the back of his Typhoon as the driver negotiated the trail out of the forest. Once on the highway he accelerated to the maximum safe speed, moving as fast as possible to the hiding place for the vehicle. If it was not found, it would be disassembled and shipped back to its freehold base.

Alex wasn't worried about logistics at this point, or much of anything else except the young girl clinging to him, as she had been since he took her out of the prison. Since he had carried her out of the cell she had clung to him so tightly he had difficulty moving. He was beginning to wonder just how he was going to get her to let go.

He had felt it as they entered building 121 - a cold, dark dread that clutched at his heart. There was a brief exchange of gunfire as several personnel confronted them. They were shot down in an almost perfunctory manner, like targets on the practice range. Several more had the good sense to drop their weapons and assume a non-threatening posture, and then they were opening the cells.

There were a variety of prisoners, of both sexes, although mostly men. Among the women, several were in the young adult to middle age range, but several others were quite young, apparently teenagers. What sort of crime could children be suspected of, he thought, noting that there were several boys as well. Of course, he thought. These monsters - he wanted to kill every one of them. But it was the last cell that destroyed his self-image as a completely dispassionate, calculating operator.

On the concrete floor was what looked like an exercise mat, dirty and stained, like everything else in the cell. Including the girl chained to the wall. Naked and dirty, utterly terrified, she looked too small to be real. As Alex entered she retreated to the corner of the cell, curling into a fetal position, hands covering her head. His mind went completely blank for a few seconds, then he stepped back into the corridor. A couple of men were just outside - and he stood in the doorway. "Don't look," he said. "It's bad. I need a key for this one, fast. If you have to shoot some of the guards to persuade them, do it."

They turned to go, and Alex went back in, kneeling beside her. "You're going to be all right now," he told her, looking into eyes that suggested she was beyond comprehension. "We're here to take you away, it won't be long. Hang on, OK?" If there was a response, it was imperceptible. Alex took off his flak vest and laid it over her - it wasn't much, but perhaps it would help to calm her.

The men returned, one of them handing a key to Alex. "Try this one," he said. "It's a master, worked on all of the others who were chained." He noticed that it was a simple key, like a handcuff key, and tried it in on of the locks. It opened and he removed the cuff from her ankle, freeing her. He handed the key back.

"Can you find a blanket, clothing, anything?" he asked.

"Be right back," replied one of them, leaving at a brisk trot. He was soon back, with a couple of military-issue blankets.

"Thanks," said Alex. "Let's see if we can get her into a vehicle."

With the blanket around her, she seemed to calm slightly as he carried her outside. She was definitely a candidate for one of the ambulances, and he carried her toward one. She would not let go, and he had to climb into the ambulance. But as he tried to lay her on one of the gurneys, she clung to him like a spider. An incredibly strong spider, he thought. How could a young girl, half-starved from the look of her, be so strong. She never made a sound, but her eyes were wide with terror, and she refused to let go. He was about to ask one of the medics to give her a shot, but immediately dismissed the idea. If she woke up in a strange place, without him, there was no knowing what she might do. He had become her lifeline, her one hope of survival - not only physically but mentally. He knew he could not let her go until she ready to let go of him. He turned to carry her to his Typhoon.

She had relaxed slightly, no longer clutching him quite so tightly, and eventually she fell asleep. Finally able to examine her in a more calm situation, he tried to guess her age. He had never been good at guessing ages, but thought she was probably fourteen or so - older than he had suspected when he first saw her. She was also, he noticed, quite beautiful. Cleaned up, she would be not just another pretty girl, but possessed of an inner beauty that transcended physical appearances. He wondered what sort of person she had been before her ordeal, and if she could ever have a normal life. He knew that children who were abused when they were very young sometimes would have no memory of it when they were older, but if it happened this late in life it was likely to leave scars that would never heal, and human lives were destroyed as surely if they were murdered outright.

The Typhoon left the highway, now travelling down an unpaved road. It was surprisingly smooth, as the great weight and eight wheels isolated it from the smaller rough spots. The man who had taken Alex's seat up front looked back, noticed the girl had fallen asleep.

"We're close to home," he said quietly. "Under ten minutes, looks like."

Alex nodded, and he turned back to look out the front. Alex guessed the other men were as disturbed as he was. The other prisoners, although showing signs of abuse, were mostly calm and reacted as one might expect when being rescued from a bad situation. He wondered what had happened to this girl - he had an idea but didn't want to think about it.

The sky was darkening, and the already dim interior of the vehicle was becoming darker as well. Alex prepared for their arrival, and the probable necessity of waking the girl as they disembarked. Something was changing within him, he knew. Or perhaps already had, and he was going to have to figure out how to deal with it.

---

Alex knocked on the door of the bedroom, waited a few seconds, and pushed it open a few inches. There was no immediate objection from the occupant, so he opened it further. The only light came from a lamp in one corner, but there was enough for him to see that the girl was sleeping. He debated briefly whether to wake her, then decided not to. He wasn't especially busy just now, and he would have to work slowly and carefully with her.

As the Typhoon arrived at its final destination, he had to get out of the vehicle with the sleeping girl and get her to the safe house where he was staying. And that was the easy part. She barely awakened as he carried her out and into the building where the armored fighting vehicle would be hidden, hopefully successfully, until it could be returned to its owners. There would be searches over vast areas of the country as the government tried to find the perpetrators of the deadly raid at their black site, killing a large number of personnel and worse, freeing more than forty prisoners who could do a lot of talking now that they were free.

Alex laid her in the back seat of a small, nondescript sedan and began the drive through miles of back roads, arriving at the safe house well after midnight. There were a couple of people there, on loan from the freehold, and as soon as they identified him he was able to park the car inside a building and carry the girl to the house. The old farmhouse, acquired by a real estate management company owned by League members, was large enough for several people to live comfortably, even for a long period of time. Alex had the use of several rooms on the upper floor, and he had carried the girl to one that was furnished as a bedroom, laid her gently on the bed, and covered her with the blanket he had wrapped around her.

He sat down beside the bed and watched as she slept, occasionally dozing himself. It was a full twelve hours before she finally awakened. In the dim light he saw her begin to stir, and her eyes opened. Briefly at first, and she lay quietly for a while, then opened them again. She looked up at him - whether she recognized him he could not tell, she had been awake only briefly after he removed her from the prison, and quickly went to sleep in the dark interior of the armored car.

He had no idea what to say, so he started with "How do you feel?"

She looked at him without speaking. Her eyes indicated she was fully aware of him, but she did not reply.

"Do you remember anything about what happened yesterday?" he asked.

She may have nodded slightly, but he was not sure.

"My name is Alex," he said. "What's yours?"

Still no reply, just the quiet stare. This isn't going well, he thought. He wished there was a woman present, but that was not possible at the moment.

"You're kind of grimy from that cell," he said. "There is a bathroom just over there, everything you need. Give me just a minute, and I'll get you some clothes. They you can take a shower, brush your teeth, all that. OK?"

Her expression was not blank, as if she were unable to understand. He was certain she could hear him, but wondered if she could speak. He stood. "I'll be right back."

In his own room he found a couple of robes which he never used, but not much else. Although he was of average size, with a slim build, one of his shirts would be like an overcoat on her. He took one of the robes and a shirt, went back. She hadn't moved. He held up the garments, then laid them on a table.

"I'll leave you alone now," he said. "When you're finished, if you go out the door, I'm in the room straight across the hall. I'll leave the door open."

He went out, closing the door most of the way, and went into his own room.

The plumbing in the house was old, and it was usually apparent when water was running in another part of the house. Alex sat watching television with the sound off. Most of the useful information was displayed in text on various parts of the screen, and there was usually no need to listen to the robotic performance of the announcers. Perhaps ten minutes or so after returning to his room he heard a slight rattle in the walls, indicating water was flowing through the plumbing. He walked back to the door of the other bedroom and listened. He could hear the shower running, and it went on for a while.

He returned to his room, moving his chair so he could see the door easily. He needed to contact a woman who could help him. He thought of his contacts in the area - there were several who were involved in resistance operations, and while he couldn't risk the location of the safe house with someone who wasn't cleared, he needed some help. Someone with a secure phone. He took out his own phone, thought for a few moments, and then called a number.

"Guinevere," he said when she answered.

"Yes, my lord," she replied.

"I need some help," he said.

"Your wish is my command."

Guinevere was Jessica Thompson, an operative with a small organization in a nearby town. The small rural community was a perfect cover, as long as no trails led to it. Just over a thousand people lived there, and most of them were retired. The few children went to school in a larger city nearby. A few small businesses were located around the intersection of the two highways that ran through it. Jessica's business was a small restaurant located near a small store with gas pumps and a few other conveniences for travellers. Jessica and her staff were all part of the operation, which consisted largely of transmitting messages and sometimes people. Alex had become acquainted with Jessica and she and her people had helped with several operations, and their personal relationship had gone somewhat beyond business. They saw each other infrequently, but enjoyed any time they were able to spend together.

"This is a good one," he said. "I have a girl, about twelve, thirteen. She was a prisoner in the black site we hit. In very bad shape. I'll have to fill you in later, but right now I need some clothes. Under, outer, the works. Enough for several days."

Jessica was silent for a moment.

"OK," she said. "Where do you want to meet?"

Alex was about twenty minutes from her, but he didn't dare leave the girl alone for that long.

"We'll have to do a quick meet, pass the package, and go. I hate doing this, but it's a really dicey situation. Can you meet me at the 412 and 49 junction?"

"Not a problem," Jessica replied. "It'll take me an hour if we're lucky, so I can probably be there in under two hours."

"Don't take any risks to save time," said Alex. "I believe the situation is somewhat stable, so don't worry if it takes a little longer."

"Gotcha," replied Jessica. "I'm about twenty minutes from the drop."

"Excellent." Alex said. "I'm a few minutes further out, so if you call me when you leave whoever gets there first can drive down the road a little and turn around, until we meet. Brown four-door, two lights, one left."

"Left right. See you shortly," said Jessica.

Alex looked up to see the girl standing in the doorway, wearing the shirt he had left for her. Definitely better than the robe, he thought - it came down almost to her knees, while she probably couldn't have walked while wearing the robe. She had rolled up the sleeves, and he was shocked at how thin her arms and legs were. She looked much better, however, her long dark hair now clean and free of the dirty tangles. He stood up and walked slowly toward her. She remained calm, looking up at him with big dark eyes.

"Are you hungry?" he asked. She must be, he thought. It was now more than twenty-four hours since he had carried her out of the prison, and she looked as if she hadn't had much to eat lately.

Again there was a barely perceptible nod.

"Let's go down to the kitchen and see what we have," he said. "This way."

She followed him, descending the stairs behind him - it seemed the occasional squeak of boards under his own tread were silent under hers. In the kitchen he looked around in the refrigerator and cabinets. Soup was generally a good choice, he thought. He took down a couple of cans and held them up.

"This OK?" he asked.

She nodded, this time a real up and down movement of her head. Still expressionless, though.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked. Again she nodded and he filled two glasses with ice and poured tea from a jug in the refrigerator. He set them on the small table and turned to prepare the soup. While it was heating he found some rolls and crackers, and put them on the table. As the soup came to a boil he stirred it, then turned off the stove and looked for bowls and a ladle. He turned to see the girl eating a roll, slowly, as doing it for the first time. Finishing it, she drank some tea as he set the bowls of soup on the table.

He hadn't tried again to find out her name, or even if she could speak. Might as well try again, he thought. She seems calm and not afraid of me.

"I have someone coming to bring you some clothes," he said. She sat quietly, looking at him with no perceptible emotion. "It'll be an hour or two - I'll have to go out for a few minutes to pick them up. Will you be all right for that long?"

She nodded again.

"What's your name?" he asked. "My name is Alex, I think I told you what when you woke up, but you might not have been awake enough. Can you tell me your name?"

Still there was no response.

"Can you talk?" he asked.

Something was going on in her head, he thought, but whether she was trying to speak and unable to do so, or something else, he had no idea. He saw a slight glistening of tears in her eyes. Too fast, he thought. OK, it can wait.

"More soup?" he asked.

Another nod. He refilled her bowl and glass, checked his watch. She seemed to have had enough to eat, he thought, as she sat silently toying with her spoon.

He got up, and she did the same, following him as he went back to his room. She sat on the couch across from his chair and they watched the television, the sound still off. He wondered if there was some kind of entertainment she might respond to, a movie perhaps. But after a few minutes she lay down, a cushion under her head, and went to sleep.

Alex put a blanket over her, and went over to her room. He needed to change the bedcovers - he didn't want to put the clean girl back in the grimy environment she had left. That accomplished, he went back to his room. She was still sleeping, and he would have to leave to meet Jessica soon. He found pen and paper on his desk, and wrote a note.

'I had to go outside for a few minutes. Be back soon. Alex.'

He placed it on the couch next to her. Just in time, he thought, as the phone chime announced a message.

"Leaving now. J"

He quickly made his way to the garage and headed to the rendezvous. Myles saw Jessica's car approaching as he arrived at the intersection, flashed his headlights twice and then activated his left turn signal. He saw the left turn signal, then the right, on the other car. They stopped on a paved area where the two roads met, their cars facing in opposite directions with the drivers' doors almost touching. Jessica handed him two packages and he laid them in the seat, then put her hand out. He took it, held it as long as he dared. They didn't need to linger here unnecessarily.

"You're torturing me," she said, smiling. "I want to get out and and hold you and kiss you so bad. You owe me a big one, next time. And an explanation."

"You'll get it all," he promised. "But right now it's still kind of touchy. And I owe you more than you can imagine."

As quickly has they had arrived, they were gone back to their own worlds.

He was relieved to find the girl still sleeping as he had left her. He took the packages over to her room, and then went back to his own. She was probably going to sleep for a while, he thought, so he turned the lights down and lay down on his bed. He hadn't realized how tired he was, and had only minutes to think about it before he too was asleep.

He awoke to see her sitting on the couch, looking at him. He wondered how long she had been like that. He sat up, then stood up and looked for his boots, then decided he didn't need them. He had unbuttoned his shirt before he went to sleep, and now fastened several of the lower buttons. The sun was well up, and it was time to see about something to eat.

"You want some breakfast?" he asked. She nodded, this time a completely coherent response, except she still didn't say anything.

"I brought you some clothes that should fit" he said. "They're over in your room. If you want to change before breakfast, I'll be downstairs."

She stood up and followed him out. He pointed out the packages, and then went downstairs. He prepared some eggs and sausage, made some toast, and found some orange juice and tea in the refrigerator. As he was making coffee, she came in. Without being told she sat down and began eating.

She was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, with a pair of white canvas shoes. She was also quite beautiful, he realized, and looked much healthier than she had the night before. Alex joined her, and before long he found himself wondering what he was going to do now.

"You never did tell me your name" he said. She remained silent. "There are a lot of names, too many for me to try to guess. Can you write it for me?" A nod.

He went up to a room he used as an office, found a pad of paper and a pen, and took them downstairs. He sat down and handed them to her, and she took the pen in hand, but did nothing else. Alex waited. Finally, she began, slowly and hesitantly, to write. He saw that she was having trouble holding the pen, and then noticed that her index finger was somewhat crooked. As if it had been broken and not set properly, if at all. But finally she finished, and he looked at the name. Even though somewhat messily written and upside down, he could read it from across the table.

Cassandra.

Now there's a tragic name, he thought. A wave of sadness, followed by burning anger, swept over him. He hadn't have much in the way of emotions these days - he couldn't afford them. But what had been done to this girl was beyond any human depravity he had witnessed. They had already killed her, he thought. She just hadn't fallen over and stopped breathing yet, and that was a torment in itself.

"How old are you?" he asked.

She wrote on the pad, stopping after writing the number 'one'. She seemed to be trying to remember, then wrote a 'four'. Alex guessed she had lost track of time in the prison.

"So your name is Cassandra, and you're fourteen," he said. "We're making progress. Can you speak?"

She looked down at the table, bowing her head slightly. He could see the dampness of tears on her cheeks.

"It's all right" he said. "We can make do as things are. Do you have any family, somewhere I can take you, where you'll be safe with friends?"

She shook her head.

"Would you like to go outside for a while?" he asked. He had not spent much time around children of any age, and didn't know how entertain one. At least this one was old enough dress herself and eat without making a mess.

The farmhouse, along with a couple of old barns and a large equipment shed, sat in the corner of an eighty acre field. A quarter mile wide and half a mile long, it had not been in cultivation for a number of years, and now had a large number of trees growing on it. There were some clear paths, and they walked for a while. Cassandra walked quietly beside him, but occasionally stopped to examine a plant or some other interesting attraction. She seemed to be as happy as someone in their state could be, and Alex was hopeful of her eventual recovery, if such a thing was possible. She might still have some kind of life after all.

---

Cassandra had been with him a week, and Alex decided it was time to make some more moves toward finding her a home. He knew Jessica could help, and that it was time for them to meet. He was certain Cassandra would like her - Jessica was not the most motherly type, having never been a mother, but she had a way with people of all ages, and was the most likely candidate. He contacted her and asked if she had some time, then got Cassandra into the car and drove out to her restaurant.

Cassandra indicated she was willing to go, and when they arrived she went inside with him and sat down at a small table in a corner. Alex had informed her of the situation, and Alex ordered their food. As usual, Cassandra was agreeable to whatever he suggested, and they ate quietly. Cassandra was looking better every day, not nearly so thin as she had been, and looked quite healthy - physically.

When they finished, they went outside, where Jessica was met them. They walked over to a small building with offices in the front and storage for restaurant supplies in the back. Once inside, Alex introduced Jessica to Cassandra and they sat down, Jessica behind her desk and Alex and Cassandra in two of the visitor chairs.

"Cassandra," he said, "we need to find a place for you to stay permanently. I'm not very good at this, I can't take care of myself most of the time. Jessica knows nice people here..."

That was as far as he got. Cassandra was out of her chair, kneeling on the floor, her arms around his legs - it seemed he could feel her tears soaking his jeans almost immediately, even if it wasn't possible. Jessica came around the desk, knelt beside her, but as soon as she touched her Cassandra jerked away, hiding behind Alex's chair. Jessica quickly withdrew, and Alex eventually managed to get out of his chair, kneeling beside Cassandra and holding her, her head against his chest, her convulsive sobs gradually ebbing, her small body limp against him. Eventually he dared to speak.

"Cassandra, it's OK. I'll take care of you."

He didn't know how he was going to do it, but perhaps time would provide some healing. Eventually she allowed him to stand, pulling her up with him. She leaned against him, clutching him tightly. He looked down into her dark eyes, her silky black hair wet with tears.

"I won't ever let you go," he said. "Let's go home."

Jessica looked almost as distraught as Cassandra. Alex gave her a quick kiss before turning to go.

"I keep getting deeper in debt, it seems," he said.

Jessica smiled, but there was not much happiness in it.

"You do get yourself into some jams. But any way I can help, let me know."

She looked at Cassandra, her own eyes shining with barely restrained tears. Alex handed her a sheaf of bills.

"We'll need some more clothes," he said. "There's a laundry at the place we're staying, between us we should manage."

"I don't envy you at all," Jessica said, "but you never know how these things will work out."

That was true, Alex thought, but was of little comfort - it could as easily be bad as good. Still, Cassandra was infinitely better off than she would have been if he hadn't rescued her.

---

Gordon Williams was watching television on one of the three large computer screens mounted on the wall of his study. A couple of smaller screens, no more than two feet wide, sat on a desk beside his chair. He could do almost everything necessary with the remote control, and rarely needed the keyboard and console screens.

In the weeks since the raid on the black site, there had been no indications of interest by the government, and he wondered what it meant. There was always some word by now - the League was not the only organization with agents inside the government. Some of the more organized militias, because there were so many former military men in them, had regular contact with the military forces. And none of Gordon's contacts had anything - not even a rumor that it had happened.

It could be they were too busy, he thought. Since Kansas City had been isolated weeks earlier, several similar incidents had further taxed the government's already inadequate resources. The situation in some of the cities had, it seemed, deteriorated to the point that large areas had simple been sealed off, and rumors of inhuman conditions inside were leaking out.

Not that he would see it on the left-hand screen, he thought. The regular news from the various broadcasting companies was there, presented by picture-perfect presenters, mostly young women and a few young men with perfect hair, makeup, and wardrobes. Those types lived in the suburbs or small towns near the places where they worked, and even in the areas that had been cut off they probably could escape by taking a small airplane out of one of the outlying airports. Even when they were watching the cities burning and people killing one another, they seemed to have no connection to that part of the world, above it all with nothing to worry about. It would be a hard fall for those types, he thought, and it was probably going to come sooner than even he expected.

So perhaps, he thought, there simply were no resources available to pursue him and his comrades. That was a attractive thought - they might soon be able to go from active attacks to defending their territories, and the attackers would most likely would not be government forces but poorly organized and equipped civilians. He had a meeting with Alex and the leaders of their allies in the recent operation, mostly for the purpose of planning their future strategy. He would be driving out to the meeting location in the morning. He hoped they were entering a phase during which the defunct republic would be preoccupied with destroying itself. Sir Walter had hinted that the League had a plan for taking advantage of such a situation to restore the republic to its original form, and seemed confident of being able to do so. Gordon hoped he was right.

---

Alex locked up the house, as Cassandra sat in the car watching him. Jessica had purchased her some more clothing and she was now well supplied. She was indeed capable of doing laundry, and had done her own clothes and packed for the trip. The house secured, Alex got in the car and they drove away. There were several such houses in the area, and some of the personnel using them would watch this one for trespassers, particularly those of the official kind.

He turned on to the highway, careful to stop at the stop sign even though there was not another vehicle in sight, and using his turn signal. It was not possible to be too careful - any excuse would do for a cop who wanted to check him out. In fact, an excuse was not needed - often they would simple stop a car out of curiosity or boredom, or hoping for a chance to make an significant bust. A lot of the new ones were out to move the ranks as quickly as possible, and that was the best way to do it. He wondered if he should get another car soon - this one hadn't been out much but he didn't want to use it long enough to establish any detectable pattern.

He wished there was more traffic - the fewer cars there were the more likely it was one would be a target if a cop happened along. He hoped current events were keeping them busy and in the cities, rather than cruising the highways looking for something to do.

Cassandra sat quietly in the front passenger seat, a small duffel bag on her lap, quietly looking out at the countryside. Alex often wondered what went on in her head. Her behavior had become quite normal, except for not talking and her refusal to be separated from him. There had been a couple of more visits with Jessica, and Cassandra tolerated her presence, and she had no fear of strangers when they were in public. As long as she's with me, Alex thought. Perhaps in time, things will improve.

When he was looking straight ahead she occasionally looked over at him - in his peripheral vision he would catch the movement of her head. They stopped for gas at a small town and Alex bought them some candy bars and drinks. Even when eating candy her mood did not change - it was difficult to know if she enjoyed it. Whatever Alex provided was fine with her.

An hour later they were nearing the meeting location. Alex had been aware of a car behind him, just far enough back that he couldn't see if it was a police car, but it had been there for a while now, and that was police behavior. He had left his jacket lying across the console - it had a pair of small .32 caliber revolvers in it, one in each pocket. He had a pair of double-action derringers in the same caliber inside his boots - each in a holster crafted into the top of the boot. The slim guns were difficult to detect in a cursory frisk or pat-down. He had practiced drawing them quickly, and they were almost as useful there as in any other position. A standard handcuff key was fastened to the back of his belt, with another in a back pocket of his jeans - the fabric too heavy for the tiny key to be easily detected.

Of course, he thought, as long as he had surprise on his side he could disable one man, possibly two, without weapons. He had pursued some traditional martial arts training as a youth, continuing while in the army, and had done well in some competitions. But Patrick had introduced him to a man who opened his eyes to the realities of hand-to-hand combat. An older man, seemingly not so strong or agile as Alex, in their first few sparring sessions had quickly destroyed any illusions of competence Alex might have had, and they showed him what must have been every dirty trick available, coupled with a cool viciousness that could destroy any normal man in seconds, and possibly two or three at a time.

The car was closing in now, and eventually Alex could see that it had been joined by a second car. So he was waiting for a backup to join him, he thought. This might be serious. And indeed, minutes later, the police cars were just behind him, and their lights came on.

Alex employed the recommended measures to keep them calm. Activating his turn signal, he tapped the brakes briefly, then found a safe place to stop. He turned off the ignition, lowered the window, and placed his hands on the steering wheel and waited. It was another minute or two before the cop in the lead car approached, leaned over and looked Alex and Cassandra over.

"May I see your operator's license please?" he said.

"It's in my right front shirt pocket" said Alex.

"Take it out with your left hand" said the cop.

They always kept their sunglasses on, and the day was cloudy enough that they weren't needed. Alex wasn't wearing his, but cops always try to intimidate, no matter how trivial the encounter might be. Alex understood it, but he sensed something more sinister here. He could see the other cop standing behind his car on the right side. He extracted the small case that contained his driver's license and some other cards, took the license out and handed it to the cop. He took it back to his car, got in, and sat there for several minutes.

Alex knew he was checking him out, but verifying the validity of the license and the registration of the car would take only a couple of minutes. Waiting for instructions, he thought. There should be no problem with the car or license - if they made a move on him it would mean they had already been tipped. Cassandra sat quietly, looking in the mirror - likely at the cop standing not far behind her.

"Don't worry," he said. "It's all right - we'll be going again in a few minutes."

He could see the cop coming back now, and saw him unsnap the strap holding his gun in the holster. He checked the position of the other cop - he hadn't moved. He suspected they had talked on their radios, and the lead cop had described Cassandra to the other one, so he knew she was a young girl. Too bad, he thought. If you try to take me in you're probably going to be dead in a few seconds. He could probably disable the one bare-handed and shoot the other one.

The cop stopped, this time standing back from the car slightly, hand on his gun.

"Will you step out of the car, please?" he said.

Keeping both hands visible, Alex pushed the door open and stood up. As he did he heard the other door open.

"Stay in the car!" the other cop shouted. He knew without looking that Cassandra was getting out.

"Stay in the car!" he shouted again.

"She can't hear," said Alex. "She's deaf."

That does it, he thought. Now they're confused. The cop facing him didn't know what to do, and Cassandra was now walking back toward the cop behind the car. He had his hand on his gun as well. Now the cop facing him was distracted, just enough. Alex was far enough to one side to start his attack unnoticed. Three quick, hard blows to the side of the head and the cop was falling, probably already unconscious. As he fell, Alex moved behind him, grabbed him, using him as a shield, and pulled the gun out of the holster.

The other cop how had his own weapon out, but couldn't shoot at Alex, who was almost completely shielded by the other cop. Alex was about to shoot him when he saw Cassandra now running at the other cop, saw the flash of metal in her hand, and saw her drive a knife into the cop's neck. The cop dropped his gun and put his hands up to his neck, too late. She withdrew the knife and stepped back. He fell, on one side and then rolling over on his back. It appeared she had driven the blade completely through his neck, the blood pouring out and forming a rapidly widening pool.

Cassandra knelt and wiped the blade on his shirt, and as she did he recognized the knife as one of his. There were any number of them lying about his office and bedroom - apparently she had appropriated one of them. He thought he was glad she had done so, but would have to consider it later.

"Come on," he said. He found his driver's license where the cop had dropped it, picked it up and put it in his pocket. Cassandra got in the car and closed the door, and Alex started the engine and they drove away. It would be a few minutes before their headquarters became concerned about the lack of communication from the two cops, but probably the one he had knocked out would come to soon and report what had happened. If he was still alive - the blows Alex had administered could easily kill or leave a man in a coma.

In any case they had to move fast. A description of the car would be transmitted to every cop within a few hundred miles, so they would have to take back roads to their destination.

Luckily it wasn't far, and darkness was coming on. The first moon was up but in a dim phase, the second would be a couple of hours behind. Without further incident they arrived at their destination, and Alex was able to park the car inside a garage. It would be disposed of at a convenient time, and he would have to have another one brought out when it was time to leave. Along with another identity.

---

Alex and Cassandra were the first arrivals at the safe house. Once inside, he showed Cassandra to a room where she stowed her gear. It was a large house in which each bedroom had a private bath. Cassandra had some blood on her clothes, and went to take a shower and change while Alex put his own gear in the room across the hall. When she emerged, they were still alone, so Alex took the time to talk to her.

"Are you all right?" he asked. It was never possible to even guess what she was thinking. She nodded, so he would have to assume she was. She had just killed a man, a cop no less, and probably close to twice her size and weight.

"Did you get the knife completely clean?" he asked next. She retrieved it from one of her bags and showed it to him. She had indeed cleaned it thoroughly - it was unlikely she had managed to wipe off the blood at the scene. It was more a small sword than a knife - about a foot of slim, double-edged blade with an incredibly sharp point, a cord-wrapped handle that was easily handled in her small hands. She replaced it in the sheath and laid it on the bed.

"Is that the only one you took?" he asked.

Another nod.

"Have you ever used weapons before?"

She shook her head.

"Would you like to learn how to use a gun?"

A brief hesitation, then a nod.

He wondered why she had done it. There was likely a fear of uniformed men, having been imprisoned - and probably worse - by men in uniforms. But he suspected there was more.

"Did you do it because they were police?" he asked.

A bit of uncertainty this time. It was something else.

"Was it because they were going to take me away?"

This time a nod, no hesitation at at all. He had suspected that she would defend him with her own life - he had given her life when she thought it was all over, and he was now her entire world. Looking down at her small, seemingly frail figure, the big dark eyes with their helpless, lost look - it was hard to remember the ferocity of her attack, the lethal precision and complete decisiveness of her action. She had read the situation correctly, and made her move at just the right time. She would make an excellent partner, he thought. Especially with her disarming appearance. And just how, he wondered, was he going to operate without leaving her somewhere, something he now knew he could not do.

He heard someone downstairs, hoped it was one of his comrades. He had locked the door, and only one of they would know how to get in. He had the .40 caliber pistol he had taken from the cop, and checked the chamber, then the magazine. It was full, fourteen rounds.

"I'll be back in a few minutes" he said. "If anything goes wrong go out the door just outside - there's a stairway to the ground."

He went to the top of the stairs, heard someone whistling a tune. That would be Gordon. He looked down, saw him pass the bottom of the stairs, look up. Shoving the gun into his waistband he went down.

"Gordon, I have a lot to tell you in a short time" he said. He quickly updated him on the situation.

"I picked up some chatter on the underground channels" said Gordon. "One cop dead and another critical - so that was you."

"Yeah" said Alex. "They were there to take me in. Somehow they were onto me, but whether it was just suspicion or something solid I don't know. I'd give a lot to have those cops alive and able to talk, but there was no other way."

"That would be useful to know" said Gordon. "But I suspect our worries about surveillance are being mitigated somewhat. They're using every resource they can muster to combat the big fires - literally. Not only are the isolated cities burning, but the rioting has spread to just about all of the major cities. It seems to be organized, much like the riots in the days before the government went completely bad. They used the disturbances for their own political agenda, now it looks like it's being done to them. That may give us more freedom of movement."

"I hope so" said Alex, "although the idea of decent people trapped in those places isn't pleasant."

"These things rarely are" replied Gordon. "But, harsh as it may seem, they should have been paying attention and been ready to leave, if they hadn't already done so. You know as well as I do you can't save people from themselves. Even on an individual basis, and certainly not entire societies."

"Patrick used to say, self-deception is the most effective kind" said Alex. "I guess that applies to self-destruction as well. I'd better get back up to Cassandra - can't leave her alone too long."

Cassandra was entertaining her self with her computer - Alex had gotten her a phone and a medium-sized tablet of the type favored by most people, from children to business people - and she was watching a video. She looked like a completely normal child, he thought as he looked at her. He hope she might someday achieve some degree of normality.

She put the tablet down as he entered, stood up and walked over to him. Putting her arms around him, she laid her head against him and held onto him. Her head just reached his chest, and he put his arms around her shoulders and held her small, frail form against him. They rarely had any physical contact beyond an occasional brush when in close quarters, or their hands touching when passing some object between them. The only other time she had touched him this way was when he suggested having Jessica find her a place to stay - on that occasion she had been hysterical, now she was calm and at peace.

She looked up at him and smiled slightly, her eyes now seeming happy as well. They let go of each other and she stepped back, sitting down on the bed.

"I have to have some meetings with some men" he said. "The men who were with me when I took you away from that place. Will you be all right here while we talk? It won't be long, once the others arrive."

She nodded and picked up her computer, and Alex went over to this room.

---

It was later in the night when the remaining members arrived. Glenn Miller and Chuck Stanley, the Red and Blue leaders, along with the most senior leader of the Black Hand militia, a former military officer named Curtis Holland arrived, and joined Gordon and Alex in drinking whiskey, smoking cigars and talking, mostly about weapons and the experiences of their military careers. Near midnight Kurt finally arrived and joined them in a final drink before they went to bed.

Cassandra was already asleep when Alex checked on her. Having done that, he suddenly realized he was quite tired. He never had difficulty going to sleep, and tonight he had even less.

The sun was well up when he awoke, and Cassandra was already up and dressed. After a quick shower he dressed and went over to her room.

"Would you like to go down and have breakfast with us?" Alex asked.

She seemed uncertain.

"These are the men who were with me when we took you of of the prison" he said. There are only five of them. I thought you might want to see them."

After a moment she nodded, and then went down. Gordon and Kurt were preparing breakfast, the others drinking coffee and staying out of the way. Alex found some orange juice for Cassandra, introduced her to the men - Gordon and Kurt, now setting food on the table, greeted her when Alex introduced them. Cassandra sat beside Alex, still shy but seemingly at ease. After breakfast she went back up to her room.

The strategy meeting was more of an update session than anything else. The situation was now such that their enemy was being torn apart by circumstances that were rapidly going beyond anyone's control, if they were not already there. The six largest cities in the nation were in flames, much of their supply of food, water, and energy cut off. And with a large number of bridges destroyed, vehicular traffic in or out of the affected areas was limited.

While the armed forces were, under the new constitution, permitted to act against the civilian population, actually doing so had escalated the situation beyond their ability to control. Rumors of abject desperation in the nation's capital were common now, many of them fueled by refugees - lower-level officials and employees who had fled, seeking a safe place outside the cities. Some governors and mayors had fled their posts as well - Alex wondered what the police and emergency personnel left to deal with it were thinking.

"It looks conditions are right" said Gordon, "but we can't be sure about the timing. My impression is, from talking with Sir Walter, that he - and the League in general - were hoping it would reach this state later."

"That was mine as well" said Alex. "We were expecting to to continue our operations, but there seems to be no one to fight. We should probably be looking to our own defenses - our installations and whatever territory we can control. There are some people escaping from the cities - at this point they're small numbers and scattered, but we may at some point have a horde on our hands."

"I suspect that's a certainty" said Gordon. "It's just a matter of time. We're supposed to have a conference call with Sir Walter later, and whatever information he has may give us some guidance.

"Glenn, how are you and Chuck situated, asset and readiness-wise?"

The two men looked at each other, Chuck indicated with a nod to Glenn to speak.

"We've approximately equal strength" Glenn said. We have just over six hundred men, plenty of small arms and ammunition. Most of have military experience, and in our own territory we have little to fear. We know the area, even a well-trained professional force would have serious problems with us - we could handle an enemy several times our size."

He looked at Chuck.

"We're probably down a little to the Reds." Chuck said. "Probably five hundred forty, fifty. But same situation - our territories are contiguous, so between us we probably can probably control four to five thousand square miles. Our improvised armor - you saw some of it in action - is useful but has its limits. If we could persuade you to leave the Typhoons here, they could be useful."

"Given the changing situation, that might be possible" said Gordon. "We'll bring it up with Sir Walter. Shipping them back in this environment might not be a good idea anyway - there's much more surveillance of traffic. As Alex found out."

Alex had informed the group of his experience, but only afterward had suspected why he was targeted.

"I was wondering how they were onto me" he said. "I thought the car gave me away, too much exposure and the finally picked up something suspicious. But it's more likely, somewhere a camera got a good picture of Cassandra and they made the connection, or at least suspected who she was. They're getting pretty good at identifying people that way - something we should remember."

"Curtis, what's your view?" asked Gordon.

"Numerically, we're fairly big" he said. "Something over sixteen hundred men, but that's essentially sixteen hundred men with rifles, handguns, and not much else. We're all locals, scattered around the area - we know all the hiding places, landmarks, trails - a capable guerilla outfit. We're organized into four units, each with at least one retired military officer and some other experienced veterans. Probably half of us have military experience. But essentially, it's get your rifle and go, when it's time for action."

"Your men did well in the operation" said Gordon. "And now you have a couple hundred men who've been through the fire. I know this is not a pleasant subject - but you and Kurt took some losses. How are your people doing with that?"

"As well as can be expected" Curtis said. "The families, where the men have them, are completely committed. We all know what can happen. They have a lot of support from the group - probably half the men have wives or girlfriends with them. But as you say, it's not easy."

Gordon looked at Kurt.

"It's the same with use" Kurt said. "Of course, our people have lost everything they had, and were all supportive of our participation. If we hadn't been warned in time to evacuate, we would have lost a lot more. We owe you more than I know how to tell you."

"We need to keep this in mind, not forgetting how serious this," said Gordon. And how much worse it might become"

One of the dormant screens came to life and a message scrolled across the bottom.

"It looks like our conference call is about to begin" he said. He picked up the remote control and entered some codes, and shortly Sir Walter and Myles appeared on the screen.

"Welcome, gentlemen" said Sir Walter. "How is everything out there?"

"Quite well," replied Gordon. "How are things there?"

"As you've noticed, things are moving rather fast now." said Sir Walter. "So we're quite busy. Myles and I will have to leave shortly, probably as early as tomorrow. I'm not sure how long we'll be gone, but at least a few days. Tyler is your main contact here, and we can conference if necessary.

"At this point, it looks like all of us - your outfits, the League - are in a holding pattern. Something we didn't anticipate is happening, and we don't yet know why. The force we see creating these situations in the large cities, and we are fairly certain it's an organized operation, has pushed the situation well beyond were we expected to be at this point, so for the immediate future our plan is to maintain a low profile, while remaining ready for action."

"Any ideas at all about who's doing it?" asked Gordon.

"Some suspect the Russians may have an interest, but which faction is anyone's guess. I would suspect it isn't one friendly to us - they would at least consult us, and in any case they seem to be in agreement with our schedule. Another faction, possibly, but we would likely know about it by now. It could be an internal force, but it's strange that we have no signs of an organization with that ability - large amounts of military explosives, and the knowledge to use them, have been involved - and that suggests military involvement."

"That's what I've been thinking" said Gordon. "But until the time I retired, and in fact when talking with my contacts who are still on active duty, there's never been any suggestion something like that was going on. Of course, if it's within the Army, they would have to be extremely careful and secretive, and keep it small. One leak and they would be done.

"It's possible, of course, they are allowing the materials and information to be passed to civilian forces. Perhaps one of the more capable militias - there are a number of them that might have that kind of capability."

"That makes a certain amount of sense" said Curtis. "We talk to some of them, naturally, but it's not the sort of thing they would share. Still, we can do some discreet investigative work."

"Whoever it is, they definitely know what they're doing" said Sir Walter. "And it might not be such a bad thing - they're doing a lot of our work, and all the resources of the government will soon be engaged in dealing with this, military forces included. It gives us more freedom to operate. At this point, though, we need to secure our own territories, work on recruiting likely allies, building up our forces. Sooner or later, I suspect, they will be needed.

"Is there anything else we can to to help you?"

"How likely is it that the Typhoons could stay out here for a while?" asked Gordon. They could prove useful."

"I believe that could be arranged" said Sir Walter. "It would probably be preferable to trying to ship them back under these conditions. In fact, there is a river between us now that can only be crossed by a lengthy detour - the bridge over the Coronado river at Alton is out. I'll find out, and let you know. Or more likely Tyler will contact you if we have to leave right away."

After the conference ended, the group discussed further plans, deciding to concentrate on working together to form a coherent unit of their organizations, through exchange programs to allow their members to become acquainted and practice working together. Alex and Gordon, not members of any group, would spend time with them sharing their knowledge and experience, and taking some of them on intelligence operations.

It was somewhat late for lunch, so several of them began preparing dinner. Alex excused himself in order to check on Cassandra. She was sleeping, but woke as he entered the room.

"We're all done with meetings" he said. "We're fixing dinner now. Do you want to eat with us?"

She nodded shyly, got up and put her shoes on, and followed him downstairs. She smiled shyly in response to greetings from the men, and sat down beside Alex. She was a beautiful girl, becoming more so every day as her health improved. The combination of youth, beauty, and tragedy aroused their protective instincts, as it would in any decent man. And rough and ready to do violence as they were, they were essentially decent men and would give their own lives to protect her. They were good men living in bad times, and no matter how calm and professional they might be, they experienced the doubts and fears of any man in such a situation.

After dinner most of them were sufficiently tired as to go to bed right away, and Alex certainly was. After seeing Cassandra off to her room, he went to his own and was soon asleep.

---

Alex would need a different car for the return trip. The one he had arrived in was now too hot to ever emerge from hiding again. It would be disassembled in one of the large shops on the grounds, some of its pieces ending up in salvage yards and others dropped into convenient rivers of sufficient depth. A backup, properly registered and licensed, would make the trip back. Cassandra would be wearing sunglasses and a hat, her hair hidden. Between the windshield of the car, the sun visor pulled down, and the sunglasses the spy cameras should not have much success spotting her.

His current safe house would have to go as well. Again, not a problem as there were always backups, and backups for those. He was a roaming operator, not attached to any group, carrying out solo missions or joining one of the others for joint operations such as the one on the black site. They were well within enemy territory, but the southeast sector was always just on the edge of chaos. The cities and towns were under control, but the open areas were impossible to manage. Having the local law enforcement after him suggested that they wanted him bad, or Cassandra if she was the trigger.

It had been the first time he had done battle with the law enforcement apparatus. There would have been a time when, while avoiding them, he would have done almost anything to avoid killing one. Not that it was a cause for guilt - all non-federal law had been warned for the past two years that they were fair game if they came into conflict with the resistance. Most of them got the message quickly - he wondered if the two he had encountered had been under pressure to perform, or if they were after a bounty.

He knew there was a price on his head, and there probably was by now a reward for Cassandra and the other prisoners they had freed. In which case he had no sympathy for them and felt no guilt. When they took the side of the regime they forfeited the respect normally accorded their profession and the protection the uniform and badge had once provided.

"You have any immediate plans?" Gordon asked as he and Alex walked to the building where he had parked his car, and where the replacement awaited.

"I'm considering going back into friendly territory for a while" Alex replied. "Give Cassandra time to recover, see what the next move is. When the Council comes to a decision."

"That seems wise" Gordon said. "This operation, with everything else going on, will probably have things in limbo for a while. It looks like the I-50 bridge over the Cimmarron is out for the duration, whatever it happens to be. It would be risky to try driving, as they're probably hotter on your trail now than before."

"What do you suggest?" Alex asked.

"We've got a decent grass runway here, and we can get a small plane in, and you and Cassandra out, with almost no risk. Aside from doing it at night. Think she can handle it?"

"Maybe" Alex said. "I'll talk to her. There are some things I need from the safe house back near Taylorville. And see Jessica, I don't know when I'll get back this way."

"Jessica means a lot to you, doesn't she?"

"More than I can tell you. Can you keep an eye on her?"

"You know I will" Gordon said. "And if it looks like she might be compromised, or anyone in her group, I'll get her out. Tell her to trust our judgment - she might not want to go."

"I'll tell her. And she knows to trust you as well as me. You think we can get over there tonight? I'll have to take Cassandra. She can't be left alone yet."

"It'll be a long trip, time-wise" Gordon said. "Mostly lights off on some bad roads. Or no roads in places - the searchers are pretty thick out there."

---

The next morning Alex met with Jessica again. Both knew it might be a while before they were together again.

"I've got everything I need out of the safe house" he told her. "Use your own judgment on dealing with it. You probably shouldn't use it, except as a place for quick meetings. Or maybe leave it sitting there unused, let them waste time watching it, if they are."

"Will do. Are you leaving now?"

"Soon" Alex said. "Gordon and the guys who escorted me last night will be with me, and we're waiting for the authorities go get concentrated looking in the other direction. A couple of your people are planting rumors of sightings over to in Benton County."

The escorts from the previous night's trip were waiting in two of the 6x6 Troopers, only the driver and Cassandra were in the third one. They had driven mostly off-road, but with the searchers off on a wild-goose chase the back roads would be safe enough. Of course the escorts were heavily armed and weren't likely to encounter anything they couldn't handle.

"Why don't you come over and say good-bye to Cassandra?" Alex asked. "She's a lot better already, and having some time off in a safe place should help."

They walked over to the vehicle where Cassandra waited, and when Alex opened the door she got out.

"We may not get to see Jessica for a while" Alex said.

"How are you?" Jessica asked, forgetting that Cassandra did not talk. Cassandra smiled shyly, then moved closer and put her arms around Jessica, holding her for a long while.

"You're going to be all right." Jessica said. "You're in good hands. I hope we'll get to see you again soon."

Alex and Jessica embraced as well, and neither wanted it to end. But there was no choice. Alex gently touched her damp cheeks. "None of that" he said. "We'll see you soon."

They turned back to their vehicle and Cassandra climbed aboard, with Alex beside her in the second row of seats. The lead vehicle moved out and they followed.

They were back well before dark, so they had a few hours to wait. As the sun was setting Gordon showed them to the flat grassy field behind the house. Several of the others came with small lights on stakes, which they placed at intervals along the landing area.

The first moon was soon well up and provided considerable light, but not so much that the improvised landing lights couldn't be seen. Before long they heard a small aircraft flying low, and soon saw the landing lights at the far end of the runway.

"He'll stop just about here" Gordon told them. "Run towards it as soon as it stops. The co-pilot will open the door and help you in. Be safe, and I'll see you soon."

They each had two bags and held them as the plane rolled to a stop. The door was open by the time they reached it and the co-pilot took the bags, then held Cassandra's hands when Alex lifted her to the door and pulled her in. Seconds later Alex as on board and the door closed.

As soon as the co-pilot was belted in they began to roll, slowing at the end of the runway to turn. The takeoff roll was short for the little airplane and they were soon off into the night sky.

Alex turned to look at Cassandra. He guessed that she had never been in an airplane before, but she seemed at ease.

"You OK?" he asked.

A nod and a smile. For now at least, everything was all right.

---

Alex was up early the next morning, not wanting Cassandra to awaken alone in in an unfamiliar place. Her room was across the hall from his, and the door was slightly ajar. He quietly pushed it open far enough to see her sleeping peacefully on the big bed. The big ranch house, a few miles outside of Enid, Oklahoma, had a wing of luxurious guest rooms. At present he and Cassandra were the only guests.

The small aircraft that carried them out of 'injun country' had a short range and had to stop to refuel once inside Republic borders. They had the luxury of a paved runway and Cassandra slept through the stop and all the remainder of the trip. Alex went into the living area to find their hosts.

Edward and Katherine Campbell were in their early forties, retired early from ranching and now renting the 800 acres to a group of farmers who helped provided sustenance to the citizens of the Republic. Republic being an informal term for the alliance of southern states that now controlled territory from eastern Arizona to the east coast. They had picked Alex and Cassandra up at the airport and taken them to their home at the ranch.

With the remainder of the country in chaos, there was a constant stream of refugees from the outside, and the newcomers were carefully vetted and for the most part segregated and monitored. Quite a few wealthy incomers, those whose who had bet wrong and expected the rebellion to be put down quickly and had stayed in the liberal enclaves for too long, had paid a hefty price for admittance. More than a few expensive private jets were parked at the airports in Texas, and as the crisis had worsened the price for entry had increased, and the bank accounts of the provisional government (in friendly offshore banks, of course) had grown. As had the stocks of gold and silver, and whatever other items of value the refugees could carry with them.

Alex, like many of those involved in creating and protecting the Republic, had not hesitated to profit as long as it was done honorably and not hidden from his comrades. In a war there is always wealth becoming separated from its owners, and it those owners had themselves acquired it by nefarious means there was no obligation to return it to them. In the closest thing he had to a permanent home, a small farm in northeast Arkansas, some considerable amounts of valuables were hidden away, awaiting the peaceful days he hoped would someday arrive.

Katherine was preparing breakfast, and looked up as he came into the kitchen.

"Good morning" she said. "Sleep well?"

"Very well" Alex said. "For the first time in quite a while."

"I can imagine" Katherine said. "It has to be stressful. We've heard some pretty bad things."

"It's bad enough" Alex said. "Apparently nothing like in the cities, though. It seems the people out in the small towns and countryside are mostly being left alone, and they're keeping their heads down hoping the situation changes."

Edward came in, in the khaki shirt and jeans favored by most men associated with the Republican government, officially or not. The long-sleeved shirts, with flapped pockets and epaulets, had a military look sometimes enhanced by patches or badges when involved in official operations.

"How's it going?" he asked. They had talked only briefly upon his arrival, it being late and everyone was tired. "You seem to have seen some interesting action. Had any coffee yet? Here.."

He turned toward the counter with a coffee maker.

"Black, right?"

"Yeah, keep it simple" Alex said. "Actually, my routine is so irregular I go without for days sometimes."

He accepted the steaming cup.

"Sit down, I'll help Katherine finish up."

"Let me look in on Cassandra" Alex said. "Be right back."

He walked back to the guest wing, saw Cassandra's door was closed. Evidently she was up. He listened for the sound of a shower running, didn't hear anything, and knocked softly on the door.

Since she still wasn't talking, and he didn't know if she could, he didn't expect an answer. But a minute or so later the door opened slightly and Cassandra looked out. She had a towel around her hair and he could see she was wearing a robe.

"You're OK" he said. "Take your time. We'll be in the kitchen, breakfast is about ready."

She smiled, the usual shy barely-a-smile he as accustomed to. He went back to the kitchen. The table had been set for four and Katherine was placing dishes on it.

"She'll probably be a few minutes" Alex said. "I told her to come on down when she was ready."

Alex opted for the sausage and eggs with a couple of slices of toast, and they ate in relative silence.

Edward did ask about Cassandra's condition.

"Still hasn't spoken?" he asked.

"No" Alex replied. He could see the doorway to the guest wing and would know when Cassandra was approaching. "I don't know if it's mental, but I would guess it is. There didn't seem to be any physical injury, other than some scrapes and bruises. But considering what they must have done..."

"I can imagine" Katherine said. "We've heard about a couple of other places like that."

"There are essentially unsupervised units out there, a lot of them." Alex said. "They do as they please as long as they carry out their missions - mostly raiding suspected resistance units - and most of them enjoy the killing and burning and looting. I suspect the only prisoners they take, unless they're specifically ordered to go after specific people - are for entertainment. There were a dozen or so kids like Cassandra, but she was the only one chained up like that."

"It would have been good to have some prisoners for interrogation." Edward said. "Too bad time was so limited."

"Yeah" Alex said. "We had a short time to get in and out before they got so SF types out of Fort Johnson. They still have some bite. I suspect, though, that the prisoners can tell us a lot."

Cassandra appeared in the doorway. Katherine and Edward got up, and Alex joined them.

"Cassandra, this is Katherine and Edward" Alex said. "We'll be staying here for a while."

"Hi Cassandra" Katherine said, hugging her gently. "Have a seat, and let's get you something to eat. What do you like to drink? Orange juice OK?"

Cassandra nodded and quietly slid into the seat next to Alex. Katherine looked even younger than her forty-something years, and might have been close to the age of Cassandra's mother. She seemed comfortable in her new surroundings - with the exception of Jessica she had seen only older men, preoccupied with the business of war and not having much contact with children.

Alex could see that Katherine and Edward were much taken with her, with her vulnerability and gentle nature. Seeing her now he had some difficulty remembering her savage attack on the cop, and wondered if she could ever completely recover her humanity. One thing seemed certain - she would fight to the death before she would be a victim again.

"We're just getting this year's garden started" Katherine told her. "Have you ever had a garden, Cassandra?"

She shook her head.

"Did you ever live in the country before?"

Another negative.

"You'll like it here." Katherine said. "The weather's getting nice, we're just starting to plant. If you like, we can go out work on it later. If you want to."

Cassandra nodded, Alex noticed just a hint of tears.

"We'll be here for a while" Alex said. "There's a lot to do and see here. Or just relax and do nothing when you want to."

She certainly couldn't get any worse that she had been, he thought. He didn't know what her home life had been like before she was imprisoned. Most likely her family had been dissidents or resistance, or had just transgressed against the state in some way. Perhaps Katherine could get her to open up, and if she was capable of regaining her ability to speak this was as good an environment as could be desired.

---

Katherine took Cassandra out to the garden after breakfast, and Edward and Alex watched for a while as she showed Cassandra how to set the small tomato plants. They maintained a large flock of chickens as well, and like most rural residents who had sufficient acreage produced much more than they could use, selling the surplus in the local farmers markets. With the war well into its second year life in the more secure areas had settled into a relative calm routine.

And the Republic was the most secure of any place. Having the population and resources to effectively seal the borders of the states that were completely under control, life within its borders was almost tranquil. The central government had soon abandoned any illusions of being able to mount an invasion of even one state, and was doing its best to contain its internal problems.

The Northwest Alliance covered a lot of territory, with Montana, the Dakotas, Wyoming and Nebraska fully contained, and its incursion into Utah facilitated a flow of partisans from that state into the less populated areas, and some from the Republic were also assisting. With Kansas the only link between east and west the remainder of the country was in rather dire straits. In many of the states still under its control, free-lance guerrilla activity was rampant in some areas and ever-present in all.

Edward and Alex helped Katherine and Cassandra take tools and planting supplies to the garden, then watched them work for a few minutes before leaving. Cassandra looked as happy as Alex had ever seen her, and was quite calm when he told her that he and Edward were going into town for a while.

"Harry and his boys are home all day" Edward told them. "If anything comes up."

Not that anything was likely to come up, beyond a common household accident. Cassandra seemed comfortable with him being away for a while, but had to give him a quick hug before he departed.

They drove into Enid in one of the four-wheel-drive pickup trucks favored by rural dwellers, at least as an additional if not primary vehicle. The patriots had for the most part always preferred older vehicles, as they were easier and less expensive to maintain. During the war years the repair and maintenance business had grown considerably, as new automobile production had almost completely stopped.

The Republic, and the Northwest Alliance, had the advantages of being populated by many resourceful and independent people but of not being dependent for everything needed for survival on the manufacturing and transportation infrastructure.

When the large cities in on the coasts were hit with supply disruptions the inner-city cesspools had within a few weeks become unlivable, yet the inhabitants had nowhere to go. The already inadequate law enforcement resources were being used for nothing more than protecting the somewhat civilized areas and preventing escape from the affected areas. Details were scarce, but some witnesses described them as being an order or two of magnitude beyond hellish.

There were fewer refugees coming into the Republic these days, as most of those able to flee had done so early. It was rumored that the airports were under tight control to prevent more wealthy residents from leaving, along with much of their material wealth, on private aircraft. Alex was surprised that any of them had the foresight to prepare properly, as he had seen some of the arrivals on a visit to Waco early in the war. A large enclave of partisans had existed in the area for a number of years, and had connections with wealthy associates around the country. He had seen crates of gold and silver, along with other valuable items, being unloaded and taken to their new homes.

He wondered how many had been so prepared, and how many had all of their assets in banks or investments which now faced an uncertain future. Or perhaps not so uncertain, as the pre-war order of things was not likely under any circumstances to survive in its original form. It would be interesting to see how things shook out.

The first order of business was a meeting. Edward was part of an early resistance group which had been instrumental in forming the original Republic of Texas. They now performed a variety of functions, mostly organizational and sometimes becoming involved in outside operations, as now. Ales was not a member of any organized group, moving from one operation to another as his services were needed. He was officially a citizen of the Republic of Texas, but also a member of the Army of the Northwest Alliance. Either would give him some degree of protection if he fell into enemy hands, but how much was questionable. There was no formal arrangement between the central government and either the Republic or the Alliance, and thus no assurance of humane treatment by his captors.

The Republic did have some leverage though, in the form of several hundred prisoners they had acquired, and some of them were of more than the usual significance. Since in his line of work not getting caught, at any cost, was essential, he was unlikely to become a prisoner. Thus the two highway patrolmen back in Illinois were expendable. Of course, he had hoped to defuse the situation and escape but had not expected Cassandra to act as she did. Most likely it was for the best.

The group, or at least its leaders - there were a couple hundred members in all - met in their headquarters on the outskirts of the city. Since its founding the group - known officially as the 'First Oklahoma State Militia' (being the first officially registered unit after the state had declared autonomy) - had not seen any serious action. Almost the entire unit - minus a handful remaining in Edmond - had been mustered a couple of times, soon after the declaration. A couple incursions along the northern border, little more than probes, had been met a convincing response and since then work consisted mostly of internal matters. There was sometimes some interesting news at the meetings, but lately there had not been much, as the central government seemed to be almost in a holding pattern.

"The bottom line," Henry Douglas said as the meeting began "is that we're mostly waiting for the feds to do something, and they either have no idea what to do, or know they have no hope of accomplishing whatever it is they want. Which it is, we have no way of knowing."

"What's the thinking in Abilene?" Wayne Foster asked. Foster was a former spook who had gotten out of the business years before the breakup, as most called it, had started. Seeking a place to lose himself from people who might be interested in his former activities he had come to Oklahoma and settled on Edmond. He still had connections around the world, and talked with people in government controlled regions regularly.

Abilene had become the de facto capital of Texas, and after the provisional government was formed it became the official capital. Austin, mostly populated by people in the technology industry, suddenly had a lot of unemployed people who had difficulty paying the bills. Being by far the political minority in Texas, they had nothing to say about it.

"Abilene is playing a waiting game as well" Henry said. "But we have the advantage of not only stability and peace but the ability to strengthen our position. The oil and gas no longer going into the federal areas is being exported in large, and very profitable quantities, and even more is being stockpiled for future use. And of course the loss of supply is severely impacting the fed-controlled areas.

"As if they needed any more problems. There's some food production in the plains areas under their control, and from California, but not nearly enough. The situation in the cities is beyond critical. It was there a year ago. Meanwhile we're able to continue to strengthen our military forces, stockpiling weapons and supplies. Wayne, you may have more recent news from the outside than they have in Abilene."

"Possibly" Wayne said. "Depending on how current they are. I've got contacts in several of the worst areas - Chicago, New York, all the major ones. They can't get in to the inner areas - or don't dare. For the most part the few law enforcement personnel available, backed by National Guard where possible, are just containing it in areas where access can be controlled.

"As for what's happening in there, it's mostly apocryphal, but it appears that there are at least some large areas that are completely inaccessible - nothing in or out - and while the conditions are not completely known, they're in a state of what can only be described as primal savagery. Constant killings, some in gang warfare and others simply people trying to survive, at the expense of their neighbor."

Wayne paused, looking at his tablet, before continuing.

"It seems that in some places" he said "that cannibalism is occurring. Regularly."

"As bad as that?" Henry asked. "We shouldn't be surprised. The supplies, food especially, were interrupted over a year ago to the point that starvation was likely. The cities were never more than a few days from being out of food if the supply stopped. I imagine what is getting in is going to the elites first, and there may not be enough for them. Are the authorities doing anything to get food to them?"

"Little if any" Wayne replied. "Besides availability, there's the problem of getting close enough to deliver it. Possibly throwing it over the fences, I suppose.

"My contact in Chicago is pretty well hooked in, and hears a lot. He says they've abandoned the entire south side, with streets blocked, armored vehicles and automatic weapons. He said it's literally like something from a movie."

"Any ideas what the leadership is doing?" Henry asked. "There must be some local news. Or are they sitting there waiting for the feds to do something, as usual?"

"That's about it in most places" Wayne said. "Whether it's Chicago, New York, or any of the eastern cities. California has it a little better, but not much, with cross-country traffic barely moving at all. Plus they're stuck with all the massive underclass the liberal states have accumulated. In the cities out east, and even in L.A. they can contain a lot of in no-go zones. But California is a big place, and there are a lot more of them, roaming the countryside."

"I wonder how much the danger is" Gerald Campell said. "Between the militia of the Republic and the Alliance we easily outnumber the army - what's left of it - and they haven't a chance against us. But they might well become desperate enough to start using heavy stuff - using the Air Force to bomb targets inside our borders. Not that they know where to drop the bombs - we're distributed and hidden too well. But it could cause a lot of destruction."

"I wouldn't put it past them" said Henry. The question is how long are they likely to wait. I suspect that at some point the current administration will feel it necessary to do something just to remain in power. We don't really have a good handle on what they're thinking. And in any case it won't be rational thinking."

"Any back-channel stuff going on?" asked Patrick Lewis. He was a retired military man, Alex knew, a colonel in the army if he remembered.

"Very little" said Henry. "We have a meeting in Abilene next week, we'll see what's new. I talk to Sam Macgregor regularly, and President Butler wants to discuss that, along with some other things. One of which is covert actions."

He looked at Alex.

"Alex, I know you've been behind the lines, and we'd like to get some input from you. You probably have some unique perspective, both on the situation among the general population and on working in that environment. I hope you can stick around for a while."

Alex nodded and Henry went on. He and two or three members of the other militias and the leaders of the Army of the Republic, coinciding with a meeting of the provisional government.

Efficiency seemed to be a priority, and the meeting lasted just a little over an hour. Before they left Henry asked when Alex might be able to meet with them, and they set up a date.

Edward had a few errands to attend to and it was well after lunch time when they returned home. Katherine was preparing a meal when they arrived, and Cassandra was assisting. She immediately hugged Alex, as if he had been gone for days, and then went back to helping Katherine. There was casual talk while they were eating, and afterwards they went back to gardening.

Cassandra was fascinated by the chickens, Alex guessed she had grown up in the city. She enjoyed feeding them and knelt down by the fence and petted one or two of the tamer ones. She was looking healthier and more beautiful every day, he thought, and happier as well. Her past seemed, for the time being, to be if not forgotten - as if it ever could be - at least pushed down somewhere where it did not affect her daily life. What would happen if she was under stress again he could only guess.

They went for a walk around the farm, at least the part around and near the house. The entire farm was over a square miles and mostly wheat and soybean fields. Nearer the house were some hayfields, and small patches of trees and ponds surrounded the house. Cassandra enjoyed watching fish in the shallow water, and seeing the turtles and frogs. Alex was at once happy for her newfound happiness and sad for the lost childhood. And he wondered what would become of her in time, but for now they were for the bound together.

He didn't see how it could be a permanent arrangement, but he knew there was no way he could abandon her, and if she was unwilling to be left with anyone else that was just how it would have to be for the time being. But he also knew that something would be coming up - he suspected Henry had something up his sleeve.

It was possible Cassandra could eventually become adjusted to being left in the care of someone he trusted, such as Edward and Katherine. She didn't mind a few hours, perhaps that could become days if necessary. Eventually. The more unpleasant thought, of what would happen if he went on an operation and didn't return, he pushed it aside for the moment.

Having had a late lunch, they had a later dinner as well. A light one, frozen pizza, chips and dip, and later ice cream as they watched the last news before bedtime.

News was of course different, as both the Republic and the Alliance had their own television markets. They could receive the satellite broadcasts from the companies that had access to the satellites, none of which were within their territory. Thus they could not use the satellites for their own services. They had soon enough developed an over-the-air and cable network for the benefits of their own citizens, and since they were only available within their borders the central government could not see what they were doing. Except what they picked up at the fringes or was seen by their spies.

Not that it mattered much. The provisional governments had official programming which was used to inform their citizenry. While other operators showed entertainment of various sorts, mostly old movies and television shows, most people were interested in news of the war, as it was generally called. The Internet was another matter, as ICANN, the organization that controlled the most essential functions of the Internet, had refused to take actions demanded by the central government to hamper the rebellious territories. And in any case the rebels had long since devised ways around dependence on the Internet.

The news on this night was essentially no news of any consequence. On the government channels there were coded messages for those who knew to look for them and could decode them. Edward selected the correct station at the proper time to see what was new, and gave Alex a meaningful look at one point during the weather report. Something was up, he guessed, and after seeing Cassandra off to bed he went back to talk with Edward and Katherine.

"What's up?" Alex asked.

"We got several messages." Edward said. "One is that the Alliance and the Republic will be having a joint strategy meeting in the next couple of weeks, in Abilene. About fifty delegates will be arriving in during that time, in twos and threes by small aircraft."

Moving between the two territories could be slightly risky, if the government wanted to make trouble for them. A straight shot across Kansas was less than 400 miles, but the official seat of the provisional government was in the small town of Central City, Nebraska. As with the government of the Republic it was decentralized, with all of the members together in one place only rarely.

They could probably take jets out of Lincoln, flying higher and faster and crossing the hostile airspace of Kansas in under an hour, but it would attract attention even if the central government didn't want to risk the possible repercussions of shooting one down. And attention was not desired, hence the small groups travelling separately in small aircraft. "We'll be meeting for a couple of weeks." Edward said. "After that we may or may not have a clearer picture of the near future. The government is in such a state of confusion nothing is predictable."

"I'm guessing there's something in there pertaining to me." Alex said.

"There's an operation been green-lighted." Edward said. "We'd like to have your expertise, and other abilities, if you're available."

"Injun country?" Alex asked. "I don't know how soon I can leave Cassandra alone, even with people I really trust. Or if I ever can."

"I was thinking about her going with you."

"Back into enemy territory?" Alex asked. "Even if she would go, knowing if was away from a safe place, I couldn't expose her again. That's crazy."

"You willing to sit it out, then? I wouldn't blame you if you did, but somehow I don't think you want that. And, if you do it right, there's no serious risk."

"Any risk is serious." Alex said. "For me, it's acceptable. But I can't choose for her."

"See what you think about this." Edward said. "We need you to work with our operatives in Tennessee. There's a similar operation in Kansas, and if we take Kansas we've cut the continent in two. There's a lot of critical traffic crossing Kansas - it's the only route they control. And Tennessee is ripe for picking. They never had more than a tenuous hold there, and the same goes for North Carolina. They're back on their heels now, and a couple more major blows - and taking Kansas will be a major one - could be what it takes to get some sort of arrangement. They can't take much more."

"What sort of arrangement do we have in mind?" Alex asked. "You don't think that would put us in a position to form an official state, peace treaty, international recognition and all that?"

"Not likely." said Edward. "I believe the leaders of both the Republic and the Alliance would be happy with a treaty that restores autonomy to the states at the level originally mandated by the constitution. Getting the feds to agree to that is going to be difficult."

"You mean overturn about ninety percent of laws and supreme court rulings for about, what, about two hundred years."

"More or less." Edward said. "But it is better than what they're looking at. They can't win, unless they can somehow assemble an army of about fifteen to twenty million special forces types, with an emphasis on counter-insurgency, and then spend about ten years taking back the lost territory, one bloody square mile at a time."

"Do you think they see that yet?" Alex asked.

"We know the military men do. The question is how long it will take the politicians to admit it. Their dream of a socialist utopia is gone, I believe, except in the weakest minds. No, I suspect it will take a little more to convince some of them. And these next operations could do it."

"What's in Tennessee?" Alex asked.

"Like the operation in Kansas, we'll be taking down railroad and highway bridges. We've been preparing for months, to make a major impact on both highway and rail traffic. We'll not just break the interstate, I-70 in Kansas for example, in several places but move out on both sides and blow bridges on the secondary roads to a considerable distance, making the necessary detours more costly in time. Same with the railroads - blowing a number of bridges on any lines we can get to - railroad traffic could be stopped for months."

"That would be a serious blow." Alex said. "We must have hundreds of men in there, if you're talking about a one-day operations. Which it would have to be, otherwise they'd move a couple of army divisions in there at the first sign of trouble."

"If they had them" Edward said "they would. As it is they will react as forcefully as they can. But there's nothing they can do."

"Where do I fit in?" Alex asked. "I can't go dragging Cassandra around planting explosives under bridges. I don't even like the idea of taking her back into harm's way."

"What we need is for you to help coordinate the strikes in Tennessee. You'd be working with an experienced agent. She's a little younger than you, about the right age to be Cassandra's mother. She's been there from the beginning, knows everything and everyone, on both sides. You'll be acting like regular people, coordinating the setup. Afterwards you egress through one of several available routes. Tennessee's layout makes that easy."

"When does this happen?" Alex asked.

"The work is underway now." Edward said. "The strike date is after the conference in Abilene is over. We don't want the delegates trying to get home cross Kansas right after it. Once they're all back we'll set the date."

"Let me talk with Cassandra. When do I leave?"

"Couple of days. I'll get it started."

---

The drive to Tennessee was easy enough. Instead of crossing at the nearest point Alex drove across Arkansas into Missisippi, where the long border with Tennessee was mostly in sparsely populated areas. The border was easy to cross in the southern states, mostly by intent on both sides. A steady flow of black market goods from the southern states into the government-controlled areas helped relieve some of the pressure from those in the cities, especially in the northeast. And it was quite profitable for those in the Republic, as they had abundant supplies and were well paid.

As for security, both sides assumed agents would cross easily, mixed in with the commerce. There was no worry in the Republic as almost the entire population was firmly committed to independence and would not be offering aid and comfort, while enemy territory was rift with discontented inhabitants. Most of them were there because they were unable to flee to the Republic, any many were more than willing to assist agents of the Republic. Alex and Cassandra would have the assistance of a large network in Tennessee.

He glanced over at Cassandra as they approached the bridge at Helena. It was an old bridge, from the 1960s. Alex didn't like such bridges - they were so narrow, just two lanes of traffic, they looked fragile, especially stretched across the wide Mississippi river. He wondered if Cassandra was uneasy, but she seemed calm. She turned to look out at the river, as if crossing a wide river was not something she had often done.

Before leaving he had driven back into Edmond with Edward to pick up the vehicle he was now driving, and some supplies and equipment. The car was one of several used for the purpose of travel in and out of enemy territory. It was registered in Tennessee and had no suspicion attached to it. Of the Republic agents in enemy territory, many were employed by the state or local governments and able to monitor, or even in some cases modify, official records. Any indication one of the vehicles was under scrutiny would result in it being taken out of service.

This one was an old Ford Explorer from the late 1990s. Rebuilt, with some modifications, to factory-new condition, but not appearance. Millions of them had been made - they were one of the most commonly seen vehicles. There was nothing special about it in performance or function. They would use another vehicle for the mission, and it would have enhanced functionality.

The people in Edmond had offered some weaponry he thought might be useful. Alex was comfortable with any firearm that was handy, but generally preferred his .40 caliber Ruger or one of several similarly-sized compact pistols.

"Not a problem." Edward said. "Depending on what you get into out there, you may want some heavier stuff. Your contact can get you pretty much anything you need, but you might want to look at a couple of these."

He handed him a small revolver, not much larger than some derringers. The hammer had no spur - only a flat serrated projection. Alex released the cylinder to verify it was unloaded, then used his thumb to pull the hammer back. Despite the small size of the abbreviated spur it was relatively easy.

"That allows you to shoot single-action if you want to." Edward said. "I suppose you might need to do it for a long shot, but this is mainly a hideout gun. Just point and squeeze. Or if you're close enough push it against a sensitive spot. I know a few guys carry those. But you might want to look at these."

He handed Alex a slim pistol, thinner than the small revolver but somewhat longer. Alex found it to be a long-barrelled derringer, and broke it open. The chambers looked about the same size as the revolver.

"That's a .38 too." Edward said. "Double action, unusual in derringers. And the pull is lighter than most DA derringers. Give it a try."

Alex closed it and squeezed the trigger a couple of times.

"That is smooth." he said. "I had a little four-barrel derringer once. Didn't have it long. Trigger was awful."

"Had one of those myself." Edward said. "It was bad. These have the back half of the trigger guard so they won't snag. That long barrel - there's a shorter version - is handy if you want to stick in in a boot holster or something like that. Here you go."

He handed Alex a small holster with a clip on one side. Alex thrust the little gun inside and fastened the strap.

"Buddy of mine" Edward said "spent some time in injun country. Got shot up almost a year ago on an operation. He wore one in each boot, with one of those little Undercovers in a belt holster. Carried big .40s in shoulder holsters. Said the little ones saved him a time or three."

"If you can spare them, give me a two pairs, and two of the Undercovers. I'll set Cassandra up the same way. I hope to keep us clear of any action, but if it comes I want her to be ready. And a pair of knives, the old-school commando blades."

"We can do it." Edward said. "How is she with weapons?"

"Haven't had a lot of formal practice, but up close she can handle herself. And there's the element of surprise."

"I can see that." Edward said. "Take care of her. I wouldn't want you going in, but we need you there. Julie and her team are the best, you'll be all right.

---

They stopped in a small town a few miles from the Tennessee state line and spent the night in a motel. Alex called his contact and after a while a young couple who looked to be in their twenties came over.

"I'm Darrell." the young man said. "And this is Terri. Y'all had anything to eat yet?"

"No, I figured to get hold of you first."

"Sounds good. Want to get a pizza or something?"

"Let's do it."

Darrell and Kelli had been briefed to expect Alex accompanied by a juvenile female who was unable to speak, so no awkwardness occurred. Although not much older, Kelli immediately liked Cassandra, who in turn was quite comfortable with her new acquaintances.

They dined at a small pizza restaurant, one with old-fashioned decor and dimly lit with a constant low level of conversation.

"There's no risk here." said Darrell. "But we'll give you the details out in the car.

They talked little, mostly small talk about the area and its population, with coded references to some business matters. Later they went over to the motel and sat in Darrell's car.

"We'll cross over tomorrow around midday." he told them. "There's rarely much traffic on 47 any time of day, and we'll have some drone surveillance up to ensure the area is clear of anything suspicious before we go. Once we're in we'll escort you to your contact's location and you can peel off and go in, we'll continue on for a while, up around Willowbrook, then make a loop to the west and back into Mississippi by another route. Shouldn't be any reason for anyone to connect us.

"Not that there's much attention on the area anyway. Things are rather quiet about now, with no indications the feds are up to anything, and as far as they know neither are we. From what we understand the only thing going on in D.C. is that there are a bunch of confused and frightened people with no idea what to do."

"Seems that way." Alex said. "I'd guess it will change before long. They'll have to show some reaction with Kansas is cut off. And with Tennessee going down at the same time, should be interesting. Kansas will be the bigger blow, but Tennessee will make their reaction less effective in both cases. They may ignore Tennessee to attempt to hold Kansas, but it won't work. Once the roads and rails are useless, they'll have to give it up. No way to even partially rebuild."

"Hope it goes so well." Darrell said. "We'll start early tomorrow. Never know what can happen."

The crossing was uneventful. Four hundred miles of border was not easily controlled or even monitored. Driving the new vehicle, Alex followed the Jeep Darrell was driving along a dirt road through fields and a patch of woods. When they crossed the line wasn't clear, but eventually they reached a small town. Crawfordsville, population 1,264 according to the sign which presumably indicated the city limits.

Alex and Cassandra were in an old Chevrolet S-10 from the 1990s. Rebuilt, with some modifications, to factory-new condition it was optimized for hazardous work. The driveline was an all-wheel-drive assembly from a newer vehicle, with the engine power substantially enhanced. Extra fuel capacity provided longer operation between fuel stops, and bullet-proof windshield and windows and armor under the skin gave it some protection against being disabled by small-arms fire.

He followed as Darrell turned off the main street, crossing several streets in a residential area until reaching a dead end. His phone buzzed and vibrated and he answered.

"I'll turn right" Darrell said. "You go left, it's the brick house on the corner of the next intersection. Can't miss it. There'll be a light blue Chevy pickup. Don't worry if there are several vehicles, there always are. Good luck."

Alex turned as instructed, watching the Jeep in the rear-view mirror as it disappeared in the other direction. He drove slowly, saw the house and the truck, turned into the driveway. There were indeed two vehicles besides the blue truck, as unremarkable has his own.

The front door of the house opened. A young woman appeared, raised her left hand and held it up briefly, then lowered it and raised her right hand. All was well, it seemed. "Looks like we made it." he said. Cassandra smiled slightly, as she usually did. She seemed all right for the moment. "Let's go." They got their bags and went up to the covered porch.

"I'm Allison." she said. "I'm alone just now, Savanna should be back shortly. She's taking care of a few minor items. All right if I hug this beautiful young lady?"

"Sure she won't mind." Alex said.

Allison was a little taller than average and bent slightly to hug Cassandra, holding her for a few seconds.

"We're happy to have you here, Cassandra." she said. "Hope you'll enjoy your stay."

She had been briefed on Cassandra's situation, so knew not to expect a reply.

"Let's get inside." she said. "There's no evidence of surveillance here, but no need to attract attention."

Inside, the house was as ordinary as any. Allison showed them to their rooms and they put their bags away.

"I'll show you the only hot area" she said. "This way."

The back of the house had a large enclosed patio, with another small building on the other side. They crossed the patio and she opened the door. Inside were a couple of desks with computers, and not much else. A shredder contained just a small amount of paper - not much was ever committed to paper.

"We have a relay network that covers the entire state." she said. "And we're linked into the Republic system through the neighboring states. Storage is on those external drives, and nothing ever leaves this room. Over there" indicating a tall cylindrical container "is an acid bath that will destroy anything you drop in, in seconds. The place can be sanitized in a few minutes, long before anyone gets back here."

"It's about lunch time." she said. "Let me see if I can raise Savanna." She took out a phone and dialed a number. She conversed briefly and ended the call.

"About twenty minutes" she said. "Let's go see what's to eat."

By the time Savanna returned Allison and Cassandra had prepared a light lunch, over which they discussed the mission.

"It's pretty ambitious." Allison said. "We have forty-two cells, each of which will hit one or more targets simultaneously. Several of the will hit targets - those are cases in which they can get set up well ahead of time, mostly railroad bridges. You'll be contacting about a dozen of them, making sure all is ready to go. A couple of other teams are in the state. One is from Alabama and the other from Georgia. Once it's over you can get back quickly across the line. If any of them are compromised you many have to intervene."

"What's our target?" Alex asked. "Or is it set?"

"We're shooting for the seventeenth of next month." Allison said. "In fact, if Kansas is ready we're going whether we're ready or not. Kansas is the primary objective - Tennessee is a bonus. So if we have to scratch a target or two it's not a problem."

"That gives us about twenty, twenty-two days. We should be able to get it done, if the teams have everything they need. What's the plan - make a visit to each cell, work out any problems they might have? Report status?"

"Pretty much." Allison said. "We've got a couple of phones loaded up with all the info you need. Contacts, maps, tech info. You need to be back here a few days before we pull the trigger. If all goes well you should head back once it's done - it'll be at night, and with all the confusion getting from here back across the line, at least during the first few hours, should be easy. The only trick is if any of or people are at risk, and you - or one of the other teams - have to get them out."

"You're taking Cassandra?" Savanna asked.

"Yeah. We go together."

"If everything goes normally, you'll egress through here." Allison said. "Same way you came in. There are a couple of alternate routes and safe houses, in case they're needed."

---

Alex followed the route Allison had loaded on the tablet. Occasionally Cassandra touched a button to keep the screen illuminated, as he looked for the signs. Before long they were at a crossroads twenty or so miles from the last town they had passed. He stopped the truck on the gravel shoulder and got out. He looked around, saw another vehicle approaching. There was not another one in sight.

Shortly a truck similar to the one he was driving arrived and parked behind his. Two men got out and approached, one of them making a series of gestures with his right hand. Alex responded with the appropriate signal and the two moved close enough to talk.

One appeared to be in his early to mid twenties, the other perhaps twice his age or more. The older had a modest beard with a little grey. Both were dressed in jeans and khaki shirts much like the one Alex wore - long sleeves, two pockets with flaps, and epaulets. Much like military or law enforcement uniform shirts. They were the predominant style in the Republic, and Alex guessed if was common among rebels.

"Roger Mitchell" the younger one said, extending a hand. Alex shook it and the one proffered by the older man. "And this is my uncle, Philip. Heard a lot about you, Alex. Good to be working with you."

Alex knew a photograph and other relevant information would have been provided beforehand. He had photos of Roger and Philip, so the introduction was perfunctory.

"You were briefed on my associate?" he asked.

"We were." said Roger. "We've heard about that place in Illinois. Seems the enemy forces are in pretty bad shape, things like that going on. Cigar?"

He extended a package of small cigars, Alex took one and removed the wrapper. Roger handed him a lighter, unwrapped another one while Alex lit his. Uncle Philip extracted a pack of his own and lit up. Alex smoked occasionally, but often too busy to acquire cigars or cigarettes, and had little time to enjoy them in any case. This was the calm before the storm, and they took the opportunity to enjoy it.

"Down that way" Roger said "this road begins to run parallel to the Southern Rail track, for about ten to twelve miles. There are seven bridges in that distance, some of them no more than a hundred feet, several considerably longer. One of them crosses Carver's Creek, which doesn't sound like anything big but the creek runs through a low area that floods regularly, so the bridge is about a quarter mile long. When it goes down it won't be fixed any time soon. The way things are going I'd say it won't be fixed before the war is over.

"Anyway, there's another big one, about two hundred yards, that will also take a while. The smaller ones are just insurance. We'll take a look at a couple of them, update you on where we are. You do any demolition?"

"Some" Alex said. "A little of everything. Mostly with military grade explosives."

"Thermite?"

"Yeah, used that some. Helped the boys up in Arizona and California taking down transmission towers early on."

"We'll be using it on the big bridge." Roger said. "It has steel trusses. In a way it's easier than setting charges. You about ready?"

"Give me a minute." Alex said. He motioned to Cassandra, who got out and came around to where they stood.

"Cassandra, this is Roger and Philip." he said. "We'll be spending some time with them, next few days."

"Hi Cassandra." Roger said. "Nice to meet you."

Philip knelt, looked into her eyes, reached out to take her hands in his.

"You look like my granddaughter." he said. "Her name is Angela, about your age. You're with good people now, and your life is going to always get better. Some day this war will end, and people can live regular lives, be happy again."

He released her hands and stood up. Cassandra was smiling, a bit of wetness around her eyes but Alex knew it was happiness. Or hoped it was.

"Follow us" Roger said. "There's practically nothing out here. Nothing but farmland, most people stay home these days, so there's hardly anything on the roads."

---

Alex and Cassandra got back in their vehicle and followed them down unpaved roads, relatively smooth and apparently little traveled. Not surprising given the conditions. In the Republic, and to a large degree in Alliance territory life was close to what it had been before the war. In both cases the population had a great many preppers, as they were called. Literally millions of them, and the vast majority were in the breakaway states. And in the remainder of the country the enormous populations of people who were not only unprepared, but incapable of the foresight or industry to prepare, had made the cities a nightmare environment. Thus little attention was given to the rural areas, as the resources were simply unavailable.

Before long they the road they were on was running parallel to a railroad track, on a high embankment about twenty to thirty feet higher than the road. Probably because of the flooding Roger had mentioned. Highways could be underwater occasionally without serious ill effects - perhaps the railroads couldn't. And of course maintaining a constant gradient was necessary.

Roger turned onto a side road that led towards the railroad. A tunnel through the embankment, divided by the posts supporting the roadbed, allowed two vehicles to pass through simultaneously. They continued some distance, finally stopping near a small group of trees a couple of hundred yards from the railroad. Alex and Cassandra got out and joined Roger and Philip.

"We don't want to park close" Roger said. "Aerial surveillance would cause an investigation of we were seen. Out here we could be hunters or just people fooling around. If we walk back we may or may not be seen, but won't arouse as much suspicion. Let's go."

From the underside Alex could see that the railroad bed was supported by large timbers about a foot thick, with vertical supports of a similar size. The vertical posts were round, four supporting the center with four more at each end. The end supports were mostly embedded in the earth, the ones in the center exposed for the entire ten feet or so from the road to the railroad above. The area smelled of the creosote used to treat the wood. Roger put a hand on the nearest column.

"We'll bore holes in these posts" he said. "About two inches in diameter, about ten inches deep. Push a stick of dynamite in. We've tested it already, it'll easily disintegrate the post. A short overpass like this may not collapse entirely, but it will certainly be unsafe. The longer ones certainly will. And with out the creek bridge out, the line will be down for months anyway. The smaller ones are insurance."

"And you're using thermite on the creek bridge?" Alex asked.

"Right. There's another fairly long bridge, with wooden supports. It's long enough to collapse when we blow the posts. Then three others. We'll have a team for each, hit them all at the same time. All the others have a full complement, five to six men. Since you're here we'd like to have you in."

"Figured on being in somewhere." Alex said. "I've got a few things to do between now and then. But on the big day I won't have anything scheduled. Plans are to stay here for a while - I don't want to be crossing the border anytime soon after. That's when it'll be watched most."

"You probably want to wait several days at least." Roger said. "They don't have the resources to do any kind of useful operation. They'll investigate and start repairs, but they're spread too thin to be much of a threat. Our biggest concern is infiltration. But our cellular structure mitigates that considerably. They might take out one team, but that's it. The others would go on."

"Looks good." Alex said. "Guess we should get moving, before we get noticed."

---

"Looks like we're set." Alex was sitting between Allison and Savanna at the table in the operations center behind their house. A very large screen mounted over the table showed a map of the state of Tennessee, showing the targeted highways and railroads.

"Pretty sophisticated." Alex said.

"Nothing fancy" Allison said "but we do have some pretty good tech people. The test will be using it to keep track of our progress. As each operation is completed the team will notify central command, and we'll get updates. Those green lights will go red or yellow, depending on the confirmation of success. Or remain green if it fails.

"Most operations will start as soon as it's dark, or sooner if they're in remote areas like the one you're doing. You can probably be back here within three or four hours if all goes well. Some may have to wait until later. We'll cut off at six hours from the start no matter what. Once the first few go off, the government will scramble what resources they have, and we don't want anyone caught. If they're not done by then they abort."

"How do we avoid people being endangered by the damaged bridges?" Alex asked. "Especially the highways."

"We'll do our best. The road teams will have lighted warning barriers to block the roads just before they blow them. We have the ability to contact the railroads to stop the trains at the beginning. They won't have time to get out the remote areas before they can be blown. We also have warning lights to put on the tracks that can be seen for a considerable distance. If a train hasn't been warned it will slow when it sees the track blocked."

"Looks good." Alex said. He looked at Cassandra. "Ready for a little night operations?"

Cassandra smiled and nodded. She had a good grasp on what was happening, how the people who made bad things happen to her were being resisted. She was happy to have a part in it. Alex hoped when it was over she would be able to have some sort of normal life.

---

Roger and Philip were at the crossroads when they arrived. The sun was just about to disappear behind the forest some miles distant. They lit up cigars and Alex looked over the equipment they had brought.

"That drill is something we built for the purpose." Roger said. "The battery pack is on the heavy side. It has to power a two-inch drill a foot into those posts. In our case just a few - some teams have more and will need multiple packs. We've got tools go dig some of the rock out from under the ties, hopefully blow out a few of those, maybe bend the rails. The more damage the better."

"Cassandra, you think you can help put the dynamite in?" Alex asked. He took a stick out of the case and showed it to her. She nodded.

"Who's going up on top?" Alex asked.

"That'll be me." Gilbert said. "Not sure I can handle that drill as handily as Roger."

"Any kind of a time estimate?" Alex asked.

"I've tested the drill." Roger said. "I can drill a hole in about two to three minutes. So twenty tops. Depends on how much time you and Uncle Phil want to spend on top."

"I'm guessing in that time we can stuff several sticks under two or three ties." Philip said. "We'll work until you call up that you're done, and then we'll get going. Our work is for bonus points."

They set off in the deepening twilight, arriving in near darkness. Parking under the railroad, Alex and Roger quickly set up work lights and Roger began to bore holes for the charges. Alex and Gilbert took the tools and climbed up to the track. They first order of business was to plant a couple of small strobe lights on stakes about three feet high, one facing in each direction. If a train approached they would see the lights a good mile away. Then they began loosening the ballast under the ties. When a small amount of the crushed rock was removed a pair of sticks of dynamite was pushed under the tie, under the plate that held the rail in place. They had placed nine of the charges when Roger called up to them.

"Time to go." he called. They armed the detonators, activated the lights and scrambled down the embankment, arriving as Roger closed a toolbox in the back of his truck.

"We set the timers for ten minutes." Gilbert said.

"Same here." Roger said. "Let's get going."

They drove quickly back to the crossroads, not quite a mile away, stopped and got out to watch. A couple of minutes later they saw a series of small flashes from the top of the embankment, immediately followed by several more below. The boom of the explosions reached them a few seconds later.

"That went well." Roger said. "Wish we could take a look, but the sooner we're away from here the better. We'll see it soon enough, in daylight. Good work guys. You did good, Cassandra. Be safe and stay well, we may not get to see each other again. Good working with you."

---

Back at the house they joined Allison and Savanna as the status display showed the progress of the operation.

"We need to clean up." Alex said after a few minutes. "We'll be back as soon as we get a shower and clean clothes."

They went to their respective rooms, and in a short time returned. Alex considered himself quick at such tasks, but when he returned to the operation center Cassandra was already there. She was wearing the usual outfit - Katherine had taken her shopping while they were in Oklahoma and she was well supplied with a clothing. Not that she often wore anything than a copy of Alex's outfit. She was incredibly beautiful, he thought, now that she had recovered her health. Physically at least. And her mental state seemed to be at least as good as could be expected. In her khaki military-style shirt and jeans, a western-style belt and cowboy boots she looked ready to pose for a clothing advertisement.

"Looking good." Allison said. "Only a couple of aborts so far, and we're up around fifty percent of targets."

Savanna was watching the constantly changing images on her screen, while Allison watched the big screen.

"Can I get you something to drink?" she asked. "We've got beer and hard stuff, and some pretty good wine, considering the situation. Cassandra, would you like some wine?"

Cassandra shrugged.

"Ever drink anything alcoholic?"

She shook her head.

"I've got something you'll like." she said. "Alex, we've got bourbon, Tennessee and Kentucky. And a couple of good brandies. Be right back."

She returned to the house.

Alex and Savanna watched the displays, as more and more green lights turned red, occasionally one went to yellow.

"We've got a running chat with the other centers." she said. "I reported us in as successful, and it looks like thirty-two, no thirty-three, are done. That leaves nine, and so far no aborts."

"Anything on the big bridges?"

"Both down." Savanna said. "They got an early start. If we had only gotten those two it would be a success. As it is we've broken three lines in multiple places."

Allison returned with a tray. She handed a glass to Alex and set the tray down.

"Hennessy." she said. "Figure most people are good with that."

"That's good." he said.

She handed a glass of pink wine to Cassandra.

"It's sweet and mild." she said. "But if you've never drunk wine before if may have a slightly strange taste, but you eventually develop a taste for it. It will probably make you feel a little light-headed before long, but that's why we drink it. You'll sleep well tonight for sure."

Cassandra smiled, took a sip.

"Good?" Allison asked.

A nod, smile. Cassandra looked back to the screen. They watched as more lights changed color. After a while Alex said "Think I'll go out for a smoke. Join me?"

"I will" Savanna said.

They went out to the patio. Savanna took out a small cigarette case, offered it to Alex.

"Don't mind if I do," he said, putting back the cigar he had taken out. "Probably don't want to spend too much time."

They lit up and smoked silently, the cool October breeze blowing away the smoke.

"How are supplies of tobacco and liquor here?" he asked.

"For us rebels, not a problem." She smiled. "In this business we have all kinds of interesting connections. A lot of people who aren't involved in the resistance are into the underground economy. How is it in the free world?"

"Better." he said. "As you probably guess. It's pretty normal in the Republic, as far as living conditions go."

"We hope to be part of the Republic soon." Savanna said. "From what we hear, it wouldn't take much. There's a powerful force here, just under the surface. Probably we could break free now, if the Republic helped we could. Take South Carolina too."

"I suspect that's planned." Alex said. "I don't know how close. But what we've done tonight will make it that much closer. With Tennessee just about useless for strategic purposes, and Kansas cut off, there's not much they can to to stop it. We'll redraw the borders and continue closing the net on them."

Finishing their cigarettes they returned to see Allison and Cassandra watching the screens, as Allison explained the effects of the operation. All

"It's everything we hoped for." she said. "Probably more. Now we have to lie low for a while, see what the reaction is. It will probably be a few days before you can get out

For the next several days they watched the news on television - all of it the government version. In the operation center they got regular updates from the resistance.

"Here's a picture of your job." Allison said. The picture on the screen was the bridge he and Cassandra had hit. The bridge had partially collapsed onto the road beneath it, obviously out of commission for a while.

"We've got drones covering about all of it." she said. "Of course the news coverage of the two big bridges showed us all we needed. And the highway damage is worse - they've got backups all over the place, nothing of any consequence is moving."

"What are they saying about tracking us down?" Alex asked.

"The usual" said Allison. "But with less energy than usual. There seems to be an air of foreboding, despair even, that leaks through no matter what they say. But they are investigating, as much as they can. We've got enough people inside to know what leads they're pursuing, if any. We'll know if we, or you, have any exposure. If we do, we'll blow this place - literally - and disperse to safe houses. Otherwise when it settles down some you can head home."

"So we wait and watch. I might as well do it here as back home. For a while. I would like to get back and see what's going on."

"You should be able to leave in a week or so. We have a pretty good handle on the government activity. You're pretty close to the border, and there's not much surveillance in this area. We'll monitor it, see if it increases. When it settles down you can make a run for it."

---

"This doesn't look good."

The road was blocked, by several vehicles. A couple were off-road trucks, and at least a half-dozen men were visible. Men with guns. Alex slowed to gain time to plan. Looking for a side road, or even a dry, reasonably smooth field.

"Hang on." he said. Cassandra tugged at the straps on her seat belts. The truck had four-point harnesses, like a race car. It was designed for maximum survivability in unfriendly territory. A road sign ahead suggested a possible side road. It was, and he braked hard, spun the wheel and hit the gas. As soon as he was going straight he hit the four-wheel-drive switch. The vehicles he had seen at the road block looked like full-sized trucks with high clearance for off-road use. The S-10 was lower and lighter, and the driveline from a newer SUV let it go fast over moderate off-road terrain.

The road was gravel, like most rural roads, and reasonably smooth. He didn't look at the mirror for a while. He knew the pursuit would be there. He needed a place to hide. He glanced over at Cassandra. She had retrieved a bag from behind the seat, opened it and pulled out a small gun.

It was one of two small weapons they had brought from the safe house in Crawfordsville. There were also a handful of grenades. You never knew when those might come in handy.

He took a quick look at the speedometer. Just over 80. A rise in the road suggested a bridge, or maybe a crossroads. It was a bridge. The S-10 was airborne for a hundred feet or so before landing on the other side. He kept it straight. Looked over at Cassandra. She seemed calm.

Nothing in the mirror, but that didn't matter. Alerts would have gone out as soon as he made the turn. The only question was what resources were available to hunt them. He needed to get headed back south. An opportunity soon was presented, this one a paved highway. He turned south and continued, looking for any signs of trouble.

They were approaching a town. He slowed. No need to alert the local police if they were not already alerted. The two-lane road became four. Probably the main drag of a town of some size. A sign announced that it was Cherry Valley, population 11,897. Large enough to hide in for a while, as long as their description hadn't already been given to the local police. All seemed calm, and they traveled about two miles before the buildings began to thin somewhat.

He stopped at a gas station with a dozen or so gas pumps and a small convenience store. Being able to top off the fuel would be nice, but not prudent. There was a car wash with four stalls, all empty. He drove into one and stopped.

"Can you see where we are?" he asked Cassandra. She activated the small tablet they were using for navigation. She handed it over with the map of their route on the screen. "Keep an eye out while I look at this." he said.

"We're closer than I thought." he said. "Cherry Valley is about four or five miles from the border. This road runs straight there. But it'll be blocked for sure. We'll need a back road, but by now they're going to have this place covered up."

Cassandra touched his arm, pointed back. He looked in the mirror and saw a police car. Blocking the stall they were parked in. He handed her the tabled and hit the gas. Circling back to the street, he saw the police car moving, but no others as yet. He continued south, looking for a side road that would lead to open country. They might cover the few miles to the border - getting across might be another matter.

The police car behind them had been joined by another, and another vehicle with flashing lights was coming towards them. It turned to block the road, and he drove around it. Just ahead a large lot with farm equipment parked on it was marked by a large sign. McCulloch Farm Equipment. He turned into the lot, driving between rows of large tractors and other equipment. One pursuer was behind him, and he turned at the end of the row, looking for a viable escape option.

A large chain-link fence about ten feet high loomed ahead, some large metal buildings behind it. He drove for a pair of gates, hitting them dead center, breaking the chains that held them closed. He slowed, saw an open door on one of the buildings and drove inside. The police car was not in sight as he did so.

Several large tractors were inside. There were no lights on, but the light from the skylights allowed a reasonable inspection. He parked between two of them and looked around.

The building was just wide enough for one row of the huge machines. All of them had eight enormous tires, four at each corner. It was the most common configuration of the big tractors, but the one they were parked beside also had a huge blade on the front, like a bulldozer. So did the one next to it side. He had seen a similar setup before. Some of the farmers where he had grown up used them as bulldozers. He had used a similar one, and could was familiar with these huge lime-green machines. They were quite old, as the color had changed to red long ago when the company changed hands.

Tiger ST450. He knew the 450 indicated the engine horsepower. These things were incredibly powerful. He wondered if either of them was operational and fueled. He walked around it, looking for signs of recent use. It looked as if it had been used, probably in the current farming season.

Cassandra had gotten out and stood beside him.

"Watch the entrance and hit the horn if anyone shows." he said. "I'll just be a few minutes."

They were almost certainly searching the place by now, unless he had been extremely lucky. He climbed up to the cab of the one on the left, sat down in the seat. Turning the ignition to the first click gave him lights. Good strong lights. Battery probably OK. Check fuel. Almost full - that would be several hundred gallons, enough to plow for hours. Easily enough go get to the line. He turned the key to the pre-start position, heard the fuel pump running. He heard the horn, looked down to see Cassandra pointing to the door.

Several men stood there, not quite inside, as if waiting for instructions. He hoped the engine was warm enough, turned the key to the start position. The big engine started, almost deafening inside the metal building. He quickly dismounted and stood by Cassandra.

One of the men started through the door, and Alex fired a shot high over his head. They all scattered to the outside.

"Grab the gear and get up in the cab." he said. "We just need to delay them for a few minutes."

Cassandra got the bag with their weapons and another small bag, and climbed up into the cab.

"Put down your weapons and come out." someone called.

They could surely hear the tractor running, and know what he intended.

"I've got a hostage." he called back.

That should hold them a while. He climbed back into the cab.

"Get down so you're not exposed." he said.

If they thought Cassandra was a hostage they probably wouldn't fire at all. But if they were onto him they might know who they were. He knew he could drive through the relatively flimsy wall, constructed of sheet metal over wooden posts.

If he could get out of the yard, onto the highway, he might drive the monster all the way to the border and through whatever sort of roadblock they might have. Or not. Best to leave the road before, go off-road. Easy enough for the tractor. They'd be shooting at the tires at least, but they would take a lot of damage before stopping them entirely.

He saw a couple of men step back inside, could see they were saying something, shouting no doubt, but he couldn't hear them. In any case, they were about to escape or end up in a bad place. He didn't like to think about that happening to Cassandra. He raised the blade as high as possible without blocking his vision. That would provide some protection for the engine.

"Hang on." he said, pushed down the throttle. The wall offered no more resistance than an aluminum beverage can would to being crushed in the hand, if as much. They they were in daylight. He turned toward the gates he had driven the truck through.

It had been years since he had driven one of these beasts, and while they were easy enough to drive it took some getting used to, but he quickly adjusted. Men were running around, careful to avoid the machine but not shooting at it.

There were now half a dozen or more cars, twice as many men, but still no shooting. He entered the highway, not waiting for traffic, hoping the motorists would see him and avoid being run over. Now he was headed south - he hoped - in the middle of the road. The traffic was parting before them, and several police cars were now flanking them on both sides.

"Are we going the right way?" he asked. Cassandra activated the tablet and looked at the map for a few seconds, then nodded. Just about them he saw a sign indicating they were indeed headed south. At the tractor's maximum speed of twenty to thirty miles per hour, they were maybe fifteen minutes from the border.

A large truck moved alongside, a couple of men standing in the back, holding on to the roll bar. One of them held a megaphone loudhailer, gesticulating with the other. This should buy them a couple of minutes at least, and he pushed open the window of the cab.

"We know who you are." the man shouted. "We know the woman is not a hostage. Stop now and surrender, no one will get hurt."

Alex held a hand up to his ear, as if not hearing. He looked for signs, saw the one he was looking for. 'Mississippi 2 miles'. Good. Maybe. They would know he was heading for the border, and in the next few minutes would have to take action to stop him.

"If you do not stop immediately we will fire."

They were covering a mile every three minutes. He would have to assess the terrain quickly as they approached the border. At this point it was cropland recently left bare by the harvest. He wanted to leave the road in sufficient time to avoid the roadblock and fire from the front.

Just about now, he thought. Sure enough two more trucks came alongside, two men in the back of each. All were carrying rifles. Military rifles. If they were using the old 5.56 AR-15s, they might shoot at the tires for a while with little effect. The larger 6.8 might not be much better. Still,

"Toss a grenade at that truck." he said.

Cassandra fished one out and pulled the pin, opened the window on her side and threw it out.

He had no idea where it went, but heard the explosion, somewhat faint from the distance they had covered and the thick windows of the cab. He opened the side window.

"Hand me one."

Cassandra handed him one and he looked over at the truck, slowed slightly as if about to comply, then pulled the pin and threw. The driver probably didn't see him do it, but the men in the truck did. Luckily for them it missed.

They had go be inside a mile now. The flat field remained on the left side, where he planned to go. Then the firing started.

He left the highway, down a slight slope that the big machine easily handled. Several shots had hit the cab before he left the road, but now they would have to shoot with a rougher ride.

It didn't stop them. Several more shooters joined in, and they took more hits. Nothing to do now but go for it. He pressed the throttle all the way down, and the increase in speed threw the shooters off for a while. Then they were back on target again. The heavy plexiglass didn't shatter like glass, so the bullets went through cleanly, some of them near enough to hear.

"Throw the rest of the grenades." he said. Ahead he could see what looked like some sort of barrier. Can't be much more than a fence, he thought. Even a ditch probably wouldn't stop them, unless it was very deep.

He heard another grenade go off behind them. The fence was close enough now to see that it was just that. Another grenade. More bullets. He wanted to look over at Cassandra, but had to wait. Two hundred yards, now a hundred. He could see vehicles on the other side. Please be friendlies, he thought.

He hit the fence just to the right of them, ripping down the fence and trailing a hundred feet or so of it. He kept going, a good quarter mile, then slowed and turned the tractor to look back.

The vehicles he had seen at the fence were indeed friendlies. Several, at least, had the Army of the Republic star on the sides. Some remained at the border, the others were headed his way. He turned to check on Cassandra.

Her khaki shirt had a large red spot above her waist, and her right shoulder was bleeding. She looked up at him, silently as always, but with clenched teeth. Her eyes told him she was in considerable pain. He opened the cab, yelled at the men who approached the steps.

"Need an ambulance, fast!."

One of the men raised a phone, held up an OK sign. Another mounted the steps to help.

"Help is on the way." he said. "Can you move at all?"

She shook her head.

"OK, let's get you out."

The other man had arrived, but the cab was crowded. Alex carefully got his arms around her, thankful she was so small, and got her onto the seat.

"We're going go get you down now." he said. "Just a little further. Hang in there."

She nodded, weakly, her face pale.

As quickly as they safely could they carried her down. On the ground Alex carried her to one of the trucks. One of the men lowered the tailgate and a couple of them took off their coats and spread them on it. Alex gently laid her on them. Without looking away he asked "How far away is the ambulance?"

"It's on the way, about ten, twelve minutes." one of them answered. "We called it before you got here."

"Can you tell how many times you were hit?" he asked.

Cassandra held up two fingers.

They had to get lucky, he thought. Scoring a hit on either of them would have to be luck. He knew she had lost a lot of blood. He wanted to turn her over and see where the bullets had hit her - they almost had to be from behind.

"Hold on" he said, gently squeezing her hand. The other men had now gathered around, keeping a discreet distance. Men, and women, he saw. Two at least. Both of them moved closer. One was young, probably in her twenties, the other probably forty at least.

The younger one, her blonde hair in a ponytail, moved a little closer. She placed a hand on Cassandra's forehead for a moment, then lifted her arm to check her pulse. Alex looked at her, the question unspoken.

"It's good" she said. "Considering. Probably a lot of blood loss but they can stop the bleeding, start a drip. She'll be all right. I'm Sarah, by the way."

"Alex. Thanks."

"We heard about you." she said. "You were part of operation Iron Mole. You upset some people real good. So much that they brought in a lot of extra resources to try to track down the perpetrators."

"Evidently they laid down a fine net. Only a handful of people knew I was there. I should have been able to egress with no problem, but they had me made. I tried to make them think Cassandra was a hostage, but they knew better."

"She'll be all right." Sarah said. "She's a tough one."

"You know about her?"

"A little. You're pretty well known. Your exploits are somewhat legendary to say the least."

"That's exactly the opposite of what I need."

"Yeah." Sarah said. "This is going to end someday. Probably soon, although the quickest resolution may not be the best."

"Divided? With a truce?"

"That's the way a lot of people are looking at it. The fact is the old government can't afford to keep fighting much longer. Now that Kansas is useless to them they'll cut it loose. It becomes part of the Republic or the Alliance. Probably the Republic."

"I expect it will go that way." Alex said. "The conditions in the cities are at a point they can't tolerate much longer. They've got, what thirty, forty million dependent residents in the cities that are starving. And the crime is out of control, more than it ever was. What's left of the country, will soon be a place no one wants to live. That's when it gets interesting."

The ambulance rolled across the pasture and stopped, paramedics jumping out and running to where Alex and Sarah stood. Before moving out of the way Alex leaned over, placing his hand on Cassandra's cheek.

"You're gonna be all right." he said. "I'll be here, just let these people get you patched up. OK?"

She smiled, weakly, but he knew she was determined to keep him from worrying. He was glad to see that one of the paramedics was a woman. Cassandra had gotten used to being around men she didn't know - if Alex accepted them that was enough for her - but she would be more comfortable being aided by a woman. Once they had her on the gurney with the IV drip attached and into the ambulance, he turned to Sarah.

"I have to go with her." he said. "You probably know some of what happened to her, but nowhere near all. She's not ready to be separated from me."

"It's all right." Sarah said. "There's room for you. Let's go."

She and Alex held Cassandra's hands as the ambulance made its way to the hospital. She remained conscious for the entire trip, almost twenty minutes. They walked beside the gurney as the hospital personnel rolled it to the emergency operating room.

"Just a second" Alex said as they began. "Cassandra, they're going to give you something to make you sleep for a while, so you won't feel anything. I'll be here the whole time, OK? And I'll be here when wake up."

She nodded as best she could, and the nurse injected something into the IV drip. Within a few seconds her eyes closed and her body relaxed.

"You'll have to wait outside." one of the nurses said. "We'll call you before she wakes up."

Alex and Sarah went outside to wait.

"I have to get back." she said. "Let me give you a number, I'd like you to call me when you know something. I live here in town, maybe we can get together later."

"I'd like that" Alex said. "I'll call you. It may be late."

"That's OK. I'd like to come back and see her when she's well. Can I get you something before I go? Coffee, snack?"

"I could use a smoke, but guess that'll have to wait until I can get outdoors. Coffee would be good."

"Gotcha. Be right back."

She was a very pretty lady, Alex thought. Nice too. He wished there was a better world in which to get to know some of the women he knew now only from meetings in the middle of a war. He had come close to buying the farm back there, and taking Cassandra with him. He wanted it to be over.

Sarah returned a few minutes later, a large cup of coffee and a couple of pastries.

"You may be here a while." she said. "Keep your energy up. Hope you call soon."

"Thanks." he said. Then he was alone, waiting.

It was another two hours before a doctor emerged. There was a lot of blood on his gown, but probably just the process of handling Cassandra and her clothing was enough for that.

"She's going to be all right." he said. "Two bullets, one in the right shoulder, missed the bone. It will heal easily. The other was in her left side. It was apparently tumbling, probably after hitting something else. Made a nasty wound but didn't hit any vital organs. The only danger will be infection, so we'll keep her a few days to be sure there are no complications. She's young and in good shape physically, so should be good as new before long."

If you'd seen what she went through before, Alex thought.

"Thanks, Doc." he said. "Is she awake?"

"No, it'll be another hour or two. We're going to move her to a room before the anaesthetic wears off."

"I need to be there when she wakes up." Alex said. "She's in a very fragile condition, mentally. If she wakes up and I'm not there, it could set her recovery back. Maybe.."

"Not a problem. When we move her you can go along."

Alex waited by the bed until Cassandra began to stir slightly. It was some minutes before she opened her eyes, first for just a few seconds at a time, then finally keeping them open, looking around until she found him. He pulled his chair closer, leaned forward.

"I'm right here." he said. "Can you see me? Hear me?"

After a few seconds she nodded.

"Feel all right?"

Another nod.

He pressed the call button and in a few minutes a nurse entered.

"Did she just wake up?" the nurse asked.

"Yeah. Just a couple of minutes."

"I'll call the doctor."

After the doctor had come and gone Alex called Sarah. She said she would be over when her shift ended. When she arrived she talked to Cassandra for a couple of minutes. The conversation was necessarily limited to nods and smiles from Cassandra, but Sarah was happy to see her condition.

"Alex hasn't had anything to eat in a while." she said. "Will you be all right if I take him out for dinner? We'll be gone an hour or so. The people here will take good care of you. Think you'll be all right?"

Cassandra nodded. Sarah took her hand, leaned over and kissed her forehead.

"I'll be back in a little while." Alex said. "OK?"

She nodded.

"There's a few restaurants around." Sarah said as they elevator descended. "Any preferences?"

"Since I don't even know where I am" he said, "I'll let you choose."

"We're in Grandview." she said. "It's pretty good sized, about 30,000. We're pretty well supplied with the essential amenities. There's a good steakhouse with walking distance. Or we can drive around and see if there's a place you like."

"Steak sounds good."

The restaurant was just across from and a block down the street from the hospital.

Sarah ordered a ribeye and french fries, and Alex did the same.

"I thought I was one of the one percent that didn't have baked potato." Alex said.

Sarah smiled.

"It's a rather inefficient way to consume carbs." she said. "Paramedics are all about efficiency. Actually, my brother did, and I got the habit."

"Did?"

Alex instantly regretted asking, as a shadow crossed her face.

"It's all right." she said. "He was at Waynesboro. He and his best friend for years, were on the perimeter when a suicide squad broke through. They held off twenty-two men for half an hour, a drone saw it all. They were watching back at HQ. The backup got there a few minutes late. It was hand-to-hand at the end. The reinforcements mopped up the survivors. There were only two."

"I heard about that." Alex said. "I know it's no comfort that they gave better than they got. I've been there."

"Bruce, Randy's best friend since school, was like a another brother to me." she said. "That's why I came out here. I wasn't going to sit home and wait."

"It does help to be doing something." Alex said. "I was sitting back on my farm, couple hundred miles from the action. Could have stayed there I suppose. The boys in RCI thought I should - told me anyone can fight, but they needed my expertise in other areas. Told them I'd be of more use if I got out here on the ground and saw it for myself."

"What's the story on Cassandra?" she asked. "If you don't mind talking about it?"

"It's not pretty." Alex said. "I know some stories have gotten around. You hear any?"

"Vague stuff. She was in that black site you hit. One of a number of civilian prisoners. Badly abused, apparently common in those places."

"Seems to be. The adults I understood - dissidents, resistance, who were captured. The children were another matter."

"Taken with their parents?"

"Probably." Alex said. "And maybe tortured to make their parents talk. Or worse. We know that has happened. But it's worse. The personnel in those places are the worst. Unsuitable for combat, discipline problems, mentally unstable. Given freedom to do what they wanted."

"Raping the women. Yeah, standard operating procedure."

"There were a number of young girls." Alex said. "And young boys. When I saw that I told Gordon we should have gone back through and finished them off. They were all responsible. Next time we find a place like that, we won't leave any alive. Unless we need to extract information or witnesses for trials later.

"Anyway, most of them were just locked in cells. Cassandra apparently had been singled out for special treatment. When I saw her I just grabbed her, wrapped her in a blanket and got her out. I don't know if she could have lived much longer, certainly not with her mind intact."

"Does she seem to be all right now?" Sarah asked. "Considering her condition."

"Mentally, I believe she is. Except for being unable to speak. Whether that's a mental thing, I don't know. Probably is."

"Maybe it is, and she can recover."

"The only other thing," Alex said, "is that she's a stone cold killer now."

He related the incident with the highway patrolmen in Illinois.