Colonel Vickers paused at the open doorway and checked his watch. It was a hell of an early start for this day. He sighed and looked back down the hallway. Major Chappell came around a corner and handed the colonel a large cup of coffee. “Sorry I’m late, sir.” She held open the door as he stepped through.
“Chopper’s ready, Major,” Vickers said as he turned and headed to the helo pad. “Do we have boots ready to hit the ground?”
“That’s affirmative, sir. They’re already in transit. A platoon of Army regulars, sir.”
“Regulars?” Vickers paused and gave her a sidelong glance. “I thought all regular units were deployed.”
“Not this unit, sir,” she informed him. “This is a ghost unit.”
Vickers smiled. Nothing like bringing in the heavy guns for a cleanup operation. “ETA to Yellowstone?”
“For us or for them, sir?”
“Both,” Vickers clarified as he stepped up into the chopper, the whine of the engine beginning to be too loud to hear around.
Both he and Chappell donned headsets and she adjusted her lip mic. “Ghost unit, designated Bravo Two should be boots down in less than an hour, sir. We should be landing in about forty-five minutes.”
“Our accompaniment?”
“I’ve arranged for a squad to provide security until the ghost platoon arrives. They’re designated Bravo One, since they are our primary security, and will be staying at the Forward Command Post,” she stated as she rifled through her papers. “We’ve designated the local Ranger Station to act as the FCP, since it is the most solid structure and seems to be near the primary.”
“Very well, Major.” Vickers nodded and sipped at the coffee. He pulled out the sealed copy of his orders and thumbed through it. Shaking his head slowly, he handed the last three pages to Chappell. “Read and heed, Major.”
“Sir?” She gave him an inquisitive look as she accepted the papers.
“Private orders from the Joint Chiefs and the SecDef,” he said quietly. “Only you and I know about it, and these are to be destroyed upon reading.”
She stared at him and shook her head. “I don’t understand, sir.”
“Plausible deniability.” He stared straight ahead and avoided her gaze. “If the shit hits the fan, you and I get to be the fall guy.”
“Oh.” She turned back to the papers and read through them quickly. “Well, doesn’t that just suck.”
“Yes, it does,” he agreed. “However, if we pull this off, we both can look forward to very long and distinguished careers.” She glanced at him again and noticed no display of emotion.
“Somehow, sir, your lack of enthusiasm doesn’t bode well for our success.”
“It’s not our success that concerns me, Major. Of that, I have no doubt,” he stoically replied, finally turning and looking at her. “It’s the ramifications when we do succeed.”
Chapter 2
“I’m not going to say we’re screwed…,” Buck trailed off as he stared at the car blocking their path ahead.
“But?” Skeeter added.
“But things aren’t looking so great right about now,” he said just as the RV scraped along the side of one of the parked cars, jerking the huge motorcoach to the side and jarring Skeeter.
“What do we do?” she asked as her head jerked from side to side.
“Ram it,” Bob croaked from the bed.
“What?” Skeeter turned back to him and drew closer.
“Pull up to the rear bumper and push the car out of the way. This thing has enough power to pull a house down. Surely it can push a damned car,” Bob said as he began to cough.
Skeeter turned to Buck. “Your dad said to push it out of the way. Pull up to it and just push it!” She reached for the bottle of water and lifted Bob’s head to it. She dribbled water into his open mouth, being careful not to spill it. “Slowly,” she urged as she kept turning her head to the front to watch Buck ease the huge RV to the dead car in the road.
“Where do I push it to?”
“Anywhere, just…out of the way,” Bob said.
“He said anywhere out of the way. Just get us through!” Skeeter felt the thumps start hitting the back of the RV as enraged park dwellers began catching up to the slowed monstrosity of a motorcoach. “You better hurry!”
Buck eased up to the car, then mashed the accelerator down, listening to the large diesel engine roar behind him. He glanced to the side mirror and saw black smoke belch from behind as the huge coach began pushing the much smaller stalled car down the road, its tires sliding in the gravel until its front fender met another parked car and the vehicle slid to the side. “It’s sliding sideways!” Buck called.
“Gun it,” Bob said from the bed. “Keep it going.”
“He said to gun it!” Skeeter yelled from his side. Bob winced at her shrill voice as the panic sent it up two octaves.
“The pedal is to the floor!” Buck called back. He watched in amazement as the car, once wedged between two other parked cars, soon began scraping farther along, tearing huge chunks from the sheet metal bodies of the cheap, newer-minted autos.
With a shriek, the front bumper gave and the dead car’s front end folded, rolling the auto in front of the coach and into the side of a pickup truck. The truck’s bed caved in as the car settled half on and half in the back of the truck as the huge motorcoach continued to push the two vehicles out of the way and off the roadway.
Buck could feel the steering fight him as the coach’s own body snagged on the ragged sheet metal and dragged along as he pushed it past the wreckage. “We’re pushing through!”
“We’re making it!” Skeeter bounced on the bed, causing Bob to wince.
Bob moaned and reached a hand up to stop her. “Please. Celebrate up front.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She patted his shoulder as she got up to leave and Bob nearly pissed his pants as the pain shot down his shoulder and into his
