Anatomy of a Rebellion

Chapter 23

Lighthouse

Royal had managed to block everything out. He silenced all incoming audio, covered all incoming visions, and kept all sensory nerves from reaching his brain. Somehow his body kept moving forward, but his mind was not there to travel along. Every time Skipper's hand flew into the air for an order, Royal carried it out effortlessly despite the lack of thought involved. It was a good thing they hadn't ran into any of the enemy; he would have been shot dead in an instant.

His mind was too preoccupied with memories. Vividly he could recall the first time he threw a football; how it felt so large in his tiny hands, how his dad encouraged him to give a toss, how the pigskin tumbled away, and how his dad rewarded his effort with a fatherly pat on his head. He was brought back to the first time he ever met Evelyn; he was a brash boy with no direction, she was his saving grace, a princess who rescued him from what could have been a disastrous youth. His time in youth camp, his last high school football game, that car wreck he got himself into… where would this battle fit into this strange array of memories?

Before he dared figure it out, he found his face flush with the mud. Roo had tripped over him and they both splashed onto the ground. They were silenced from any further noises or movement by Skipper's hand. Finally Royal managed to get his focus returned to the present. Movement a few yards in front of them caused him to hold his breath. Roo, still on top of him, shifted slightly in order to improve his aim.

Fire licked at his neck and he wondered how their illuminated frames weren't noticed. Then again, the smoke was so thick it was a miracle he could see the enemy in front of them. That probably explained why Roo had barreled into him suddenly. Skipper's squad had traveled straight through the fires that threatened the forest and found themselves not a football field away from their target. One of Skipper's men emerged from the flames, ambushed the enemy, and slit his throat before a noise could be uttered.

Skipper scooted back until he was even with Roo and Royal. He ordered, "Go forward, all the way to the house. Stay low, because they probably have someone staring out the window. When you get there, toss in a flashbang and ambush them. It's up to you guys to do this. We'll back you up. Now go!"

Roo flew towards the building; it took Royal a bit longer to get back on his feet, but he was quickly by Roo's side. It was difficult to get up to a good speed when crouched, but Royal didn't feel like taking the risk of getting shot in the face. He and Roo synced up nicely and they managed to create a decent weaving pattern. It would have been difficult to get a good aim on either of them if they were spotted. Fortunately, they weren't spotted and managed to complete the sprint to the building without any issue.

Royal slammed against the wall to the right of the window. Roo eased his way to the other side. Both had their chests heaving but Roo managed to control the noise his breathing made, while Royal was loud enough it began to worry his comrade. He wondered if Royal wasn't having a heart attack; while he made violent movement with his lungs, it sounded as though little air was entering, sweat was so thick on his forehead it began to drip down, and he had to stabilize himself on the building's wall. Royal could feel his eyes on him. The youngster turned to face Roo, who gave a questionable thumb up. Royal nodded.

Roo peaked inside the window to see that the room was empty. It was closed; he fiddled with the screen and managed to get it off and then tried to open the window. Frustrated that it wouldn't budge, he stabbed his knife into the lock and wiggled it. Eventually he got it to pop. This short break allowed Royal to better get his wits in order. By the time the window was open Royal was ready to climb in.

As he was doing so, a low voice came over his radio. "We're coming in from the other side," Wallace said. "Don't shoot us."

He landed inside the room and turned to help Roo inside as well. It was much warmer inside compared to the cool winter breeze he felt outside. The creaks and pops of the wooden floor made Royal jumpy. He was paranoid that the sound of his boots connecting with the rotting floor made enough noise to give them away. It didn't bother Roo, as he quickly shuffled his feet to the door and positioned himself.

Roo let out a very loud sigh. It helped Royal to relax; he needed to know he wasn't the only nervous one.

Light seeped under the door. When Roo slowly pulled it open the light crashed into the room and nearly blinded the two of them. They were slow in their movements and quietly peeked into the hallway. There was no one in sight. However, they could hear a very faint voice from another room. They eavesdropped on the conversation.

"… evacuate until the area is clear," the voice said. "I thought the 20th pulled out already?"

"They did."

"Then get the General on the phone and find out who the hell is shooting at us!"

"Someone high up is involved in this," Roo whispered to no one in particular. "Or, we're about to kill the wrong people." He regretted the comment as soon as he made it; he could hear and see Royal flinch at the suggestion.

A startled, "s**t!" caused them both to jump. They flung themselves to the ground when they heard an explosion; the RAT-TA-TAT of gunfire followed. Roo barreled into the hallway without checking for enemies and was fortunately not shot. Royal followed after him, but by the time they reached the sight of the gunfight it was over.

"Clear!" a member of Wallace's squad shouted.

"Keep your eyes open!" the Warrant Officer ordered. "Let's clear this shithole and get out of here! We've got like twenty minutes before the Sea Dogs s**t all over us!" His men proceeded to move towards another room. Wallace stood motionless in the now destroyed living area and heaved a sigh. He noticed Royal and instantly was in front of him, grabbed the youngster's helmet and pushed their heads together. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Because of their position, Royal could not avoid eye contact. It was a move his father had done to him a dozen times. "Yes, Warrant Officer," Royal answered mechanically.

"I don't want the army answer, I want your answer," he said. "You're like a son to me, be careful."

Suddenly he again remembered being a boy and holding a football too large for his hands, but this time the memory was much clearer. The man who had given him that football, who had encouraged him to give it a toss, then had patted him on the head and said he did well was not his father. No, the man who had towered over him but he treated him so well was a blonde haired, big eared, round faced son of a farmer, not the tall, imposing, dark haired man he called, "dad." For a moment, Royal wondered what other tricks his mind had played on him, what other memories were distorted from time and fantasy?

Reality returned when the shattering sound of more gunshots reached Royal's ears. He was the second to respond; he chased after Wallace's heels and found himself stopped outside a room adjacent to the one he had originally entered from. Wallace used all of his lower body's strength to kick the door open and it nearly fell off its hinges. Before them laid three soldiers, bullet holes to their heads. The perpetrator was another soldier, and the muzzle of the gun was placed against his own forehead.

"Turn around!" Wallace demanded. "Turn around and drop the gun!" The man turned slowly; the gun stayed pressed against his head. "Put the gun down! Cooperate and you'll be alright."

It was a lost cause. Wallace could tell when he looked into the man's eyes. No one who wanted to keep living held such dead eyes; they were clouded by the tears but the expressionless, fearless orbs were able to pierce through. He uttered something that went unheard, as it was barely a whisper; Royal wasn't sure if the man really said anything at all. Then, one last gunshot.

Wallace ignored the man who committed suicide. Instead, he focused his attention on two civilians that were left untouched. One was a middle-aged man with a gunshot wound to his leg; the other was a man entering his sixties, a bit of blood smeared on his face. He crouched near the older man first.

"Mister President!" he yelped, surprised. Indeed it was Michael Kenning, a small wound on his head and exhaustion in his eyes. "Are you alright?" Wallace asked. The President nodded. "Mister President, I'm Warrant Officer Wallace Chevalier of the Easy Eight. We're here to help you."

"Just get me the hell out of here," he cursed. Kenning lifted up his hands to show they had been zipped tied. Wallace carefully but quickly cut the bonds and turned his attention to the bump on Kenning's forehead. Kenning swatted Wallace's hands away and said, "It's just a scratch. Are we going to sit here and wait for them to ambush us or are we getting out of here?"

"Ambush us?"

"Yes!" Kenning shouted. He stood, leaving a confused Wallace still kneeling on the floor. He watched as the President dusted off his jacket, as though he had lived through worse. Kenning looked so proud and brave in the face of death that Wallace began to feel great admiration for him. "Those idiots that tried to kidnap me had just requested assistance from some damn militia! I'd rather not sit on my ass and wait for them to knock on the door!"

"Of course, Mister President," Wallace nodded. He turned to see if the other man was getting assistance. Royal and Roo had both begun to administer first aid. He then turned on his radio and said, "Captain Ross, I've secured Lighthouse."

"Condition?"

"A small scrape," he answered. "We'll be pulling out in about ten minutes."

"Ten minutes!" a loud voice interrupted them. "Damn, boy, I'll be dropping bombs in seven!"

"What?!" Wallace screamed. The sudden arrival of Conroy over his radio stream startled him. "I can't have my men evacuated by seven minutes!"

"I can't turn back," Conroy said. "I've only got enough fuel to get there. Your Captain was in such a hurry to get me to land I wasted it all. I can't just float around American skies like an i***t, either!"

"s**t, s**t, s**t!" Wallace cursed. "We've got to move! Pick him up, pick him up!" Roo and Royal did as they were told. The frantic tone of Wallace's voice caused them to mishandle the injured civilian and he cried out in pain. It was ignored. Wallace barked over the walkie, "What's the condition outside, Barton, Wakeman!"

"Calm down, Chevalier!" Barton quipped. "There's not a sound on the west side."

"We were getting pounded pretty heavily over here," Wakeman said. "But it… stopped. Right after the pilot spoke."

"They've hacked our radio communications," Mackenzie noted. "We're ending this then. Get out."

"Of course!"

Kenning tried to be the first outside the small building, but Wallace was quick to move in front of him. They were greeted at the door by a Humvee from Wakeman's squad. The men wasted no time in herding the President inside and placed the injured civilian inside as well. As the Humvee sped off, Wallace sighed louder than he ever had in his life.

He was nearly scared to death when a hand grabbed his shoulder. He turned to see Sergeant Barton. "Wallace," he said, the first name familiarity shown by accident. "Did… did we just save the President of the United States?"

Wallace answered by grabbing Barton's shoulders. "We did. We're going to be legendary!"

The sight was odd to Royal. They had just killed people – Americans, even – yet the taste of victory was so sweet to these veterans they couldn't contain their enthusiasm. It was an acquired taste, Royal decided, because he had yet to enjoy it; it felt sour in his mouth and tainted his stomach. He really just wanted to go home. When another Humvee pulled up, he was the first to enter it.

He found himself sitting beside Goldwin. The Lieutenant cradled his head in his hands. "Are you alright, Lieutenant?" Royal asked.

"Yes," was the strained answer. "I just get bad headaches sometimes. This one is worse than I'm used to."

"Suck it up, Goldie," Wallace said as he climbed inside. Before the door was fully shut, the driver was already moving at a decent speed. Everyone wanted to leave. Wallace checked his watch and said, "We've got like five minutes, make it three just to be safe, before the Sea Dogs show up."

Goldwin managed to open one eye long enough to ask, "Did you get a hold of Sergeant Chen?"

Wallace had forgotten about his comrade and nearly choked when he shouted into his radio, "Chen! Respond!"

He received a very different voice than what he was expecting. "Don't waste your breath," Mackenzie said. "His radio turned off a long time ago and his transponder is off, too. More importantly, do you have any more casualties?"

Wallace slumped back in his seat. "None," he said. "Except some civilian that was with Lighthouse at extraction. No idea who it is." Then, he slowly removed his radio headset and tossed it away. All of the excitement of their victory was gone and had been replaced with a grim expression of anxiety. He muttered, "We're pretty kickass. It looks like we'll leave without any casualties, as long as Chen finds his way out on time."

Royal unclipped his helmet and took it off. He ran a hand through his hair and down his neck. The fire they had passed through had done some damage, as the back of his neck felt raw and stung when he grazed it. All of the memories that had bothered him earlier were gone; his mind had gone completely blank, partially because of his exhaustion and partially due to a mental defense mechanism designed to help block out traumatizing memories. He knew the Ozark battle fit well under "traumatizing."

"Chevalier, what will we do with the President?" the driver asked.

Wallace had nearly fallen asleep. With his head rested on his fist, his words were a bit distorted when he said, "Take him to Union, of course. It's the only safe place for him right now."

"Like it was safe for Patterson, and your sister, right?"

It was Royal who dared to make such a comment, but Wallace couldn't find the energy to retort. Even if he had, it was doubtful he would snap. Too much stress in one day coupled with a truly draining return to duty had left him without the will to feel any emotions. It was the only way he knew how to deal with it all. Knowing Chen was still out there unaccounted for made it just that much more difficult.