Firestorm: Book III of the Wildfire Saga (64 page)

Sparky stretched like a tiger and got up off his stool.
 
Seven empty glasses cluttered the counter where he sat.
 
“’Bout damn time.
 
I was worried they'd shoot you and be done with it.”
 
He stepped up and enveloped Cooper in a crushing bear hug.

“Thanks, Sparky.”

"Where's Jax?"

"Still in surgery—they took him to Landstuhl to get him stabilized.
 
He took a bullet to the back when we were extracting him from the castle," mumbled the sniper.
 
"I had him over my shoulder and they shot him…fuckin' cowards."

"It isn't your fault, man. Without you, he would've died over there," said Cooper, a hand on Sparky's shoulder.

Sparky grunted.
 
"I heard he's doing okay, but they wouldn't let me stay.
 
Admiral Bennet said he'd be flown back in the next 48 hours to Bethesda."

Cooper stared at the bar.
 
Jax was alone in Germany, soon to be shipped home and separated from the rest of them again.
 
Now that he'd been slapped with the DD, Cooper knew he'd never be allowed to even see Jax again.
 
The big Texan was still part of a covert fighting unit—they couldn't just hang out with civilians whenever they felt like it.
 
Cooper frowned.
 
Especially not dishonorably discharged civilians.

“So how bad was the verdict?” asked Charlie as he shoved a beer into Cooper’s hand.

Cooper drained the beer and handed the paper to Charlie.
 
“No firing squad.”
 

“Dishonorable discharge?
 
Fuckers.”

“Well, look at it this way, at least no one will be shooting at you anymore, right?” asked Sparky.

“Just us!
 
Get your ass up here and take one,” said Charlie, holding out a shot glass.
 
“C’mon—unless you're still too injured to drink…?”

"Fuck you."
 
Cooper took the glass and waited for the bartender to fill the rest.
 
He raised his hand and the others did likewise.
 
“To our fallen brothers.
 
To those who gave all.
 
To the Teams.”

“Hooyah,” the three SEALs said in somber unison.

Cooper slammed the empty shot glass on the counter.
 

“Give us another,” said Charlie, signaling the bartender.
 
“You know what, just leave the bottle.”

“You trying to get me shit-faced my first day as a civvie?” asked Cooper, feeling the warmth in his belly spread.
 
He hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast and had spent the better part of the day on his feet in court or on a hospital gurney.
 
“I need food—the discharging doc wouldn't let me have any earlier.”

“You know, we never got to finish your retirement party,” said Charlie.

Cooper raised his glass.
 
“To Swede.”

“To Tank,” said Sparky, raising his glass.

“Ell-Tee,” said Cooper.

"Jax and Mike," added Charlie.
 
"May both of them heal fast, lord knows we're gonna need them now that you're leaving."

“Hooyah,” they said together and drank.

"Any word on Juice or Switchplate?"

Charlie shook his head.
 
"They're officially MIA…but Bennet thinks that's just wishful thinking.
 
They're gone."

“Jesus, this is depressing as hell,” said Sparky.
 
“We need music.”
 
He stood and shuffled toward the jukebox in the corner.

“So what now?” asked Charlie, pouring Cooper another round.

Cooper sighed, staring at the amber liquid.
 
“Hell if I know.
 
Oakrock was the plan, but…” he tapped the discharge papers.
 
“That ship sailed."
 
He rubbed his leg.
 
"I have to register as a convicted felon with the state,” Cooper said in disbelief.

The door behind them opened, letting a blast of cold air into the room.
 
Everyone turned to look at the newcomer.
 

“Officer on deck!” barked Sparky.
 
Charlie jumped to attention, knocking over a barstool.
 

Cooper turned in his seat.
 
For the first time in ten years, he didn’t give a fuck if an officer appeared unannounced.
 
Maybe being a civvie isn't so bad…

“As you were,” said Admiral Bennet as he swept into the room.
 
He removed his cover and handed it to his aide, a wide-eyed ensign who seemed scandalized to be in a bar so early in the day.
 

“I was told I’d find you here,” Bennet said.
 
He opened his coat and pulled out a folded up piece of paper.
 
“I know you got a raw deal.
 
The President has been appraised of the situation and despite your lack of enthusiasm for preventing 13 from killing Tillcott, your service record is otherwise impeccable."
 
Bennet handed over the paper.
 
"He wanted to make sure you got this.”

Cooper put his drink down and opened the paper.
 
“A Presidential Pardon?”

“Close—it’s an Executive Order reversing your DD.
 
Ford used it after Vietnam to allow protesters to come home.
 
Harris overruled the court martial's verdict with what amounts to a Presidential Pardon.
 
You still won’t have your pension check coming—”

“But I won’t be a convicted felon either?”

Bennet nodded.
 
“I have to say, it didn't take much convincing.
 
He likes you, Braaten.”
 
The admiral sighed.
 
“This whole shit storm has gotten way out of control.”
 
Bennet gestured to the door.
 
“Notice how empty it is out there?
 
The whole Eastern Shore got hit hard by the K-Flu.
 
There’s mass graves over on the west side of town.
 
Too many people died too fast—they're piled up like a damn landfill.”

“Jesus,” muttered Cooper.
 

“At least you got the son of a bitch that started it all.
 
Probably would have taken The Hague years to hand down judgment,” Bennet said.
 
He straightened.
 
“Anyway.
 
I’ve got to get back to D.C., but I wanted to deliver this in person.
 
You’ve done a tremendous service to the country, Braaten.
 
We won’t forget it.”

Cooper gripped the admiral's hand.
 
“Thank you, sir.”

“I should thank
you
, lieutenant.
 
We can’t publicly say it, but the Navy is proud of you, son.
 
Whether she killed him and you let her or you did it yourself—” Bennet raised his hand.
 
“I don’t want to know and I don’t care.
 
He’s dead—that’s all that matters."
 
He took his cover from the aide.
 
"Either way, you got a lot of fans out there.”
 
He turned to leave, then stopped.
 
“Oh, I made a few  calls and let a few friends of mine know you’re on the market now with a White House-endorsed clean record.”

Cooper stared at the door after Bennet left.
 
The others gathered around to look at pardon.
 
He let them have it and turned back to the bar.
 
Flashing colors on the TV caught his attention.
 

“Hey, can you turn that up?” he asked the barkeep.

“—dent of the United States,” a spokesman said behind a gleaming wooden podium sporting the Presidential Seal.
 
He stepped aside and President Harris came into view and took his position in front of the cameras.

“My fellow Americans.
 
I want to be the first to relay to you the news that the monster behind the biological weapon attack on our soil, the madman who unleashed war and pestilence on the world has been brought to justice.”
 
He looked down at his notes.
 
“Reginald Tillcott, the 7
^th
Earl of Dunkeith—a British subject and member of the international terror organization known as "The Council"—has been killed in a firefight in northwestern Scotland.
 
He was the mastermind behind the plot to topple governments around the world and reduce the global human population through a mutated, weaponized strain of The Pandemic virus.”

The President removed his reading glasses.
 
“I know that’s little enough comfort to the millions of Americans out there tonight who are suffering the loss of friends and family, taken too soon by this heinous plague…but it is
something
.
 
Individuals part of the organization known as the Council are being rounded up or killed as we speak by our brave fighting men and women and our allies all over the world.
 
These people have committed the most outrageous atrocities in human history."

Cooper regarded the President over the top of his glass.
 
The man looked tired.
 
Old, even.
 
He hadn’t had any face time with the Commander-in-Chief, but when he'd been named by Denton to take on the mantle of leadership, he’d looked a lot younger.
 
Cooper thought for a moment, slipping back in time to the bunker at the Los Angeles Air Force Base.
 
He looked down and almost saw the hand of President Denton in his own again.
 
He heard the President whisper to him to stay strong and rise.
 
To never give up, to fight back.

Rise…

Brenda had been so full of life then.
 
His throat tightened as he remembered her standing on the other side of Denton’s makeshift gurney.
 
Her hair pulled up, she’d been covered in blood and running on empty for over 24 hours.
 
They all had.
 
It had been a close thing, their escape from All Saints’ Memorial.

She was so beautiful…

“…vaccine is putting the virus on the ropes.
 
This is a momentous time in human history.
 
Our goal is to inoculate every living person on this planet with the vaccine—much like we did with polio and smallpox.
 
The threat posed against our species by the influenza virus will soon be a distant memory, thanks to the tireless efforts of scientists both here and abroad.”

The ticker at the bottom of the screen read:
U.S. Korean Flu deaths mount: over 2 million confirmed deaths in California alone.
 
National estimates at 10+ million.
 
Mass graves in several states on the east coast.
 
President to declare national curfew…

“I have issued Executive Orders granting the Federal Government powers to create unprecedented partnerships with all private facilities in the United States capable of manufacturing this vaccine to increase our emergency production and distribution as quickly as possible.
 
To anyone out there who hasn’t caught the flu yet—stay vigilant.
 
It may be some time before we can find you.
 
I urge you to shelter in place and only venture outside to find what supplies you absolutely need to survive.

"To those who are infected or caring for sick loved ones, I beg you to stay strong and continue to pray.
 
Help is coming—we are sending food, medicine, and doctors to every corner of the country utilizing federalized National Guard troops…”

He cleared his throat and took a long look at the camera.
 
“To further heal our country, I have issued a blanket pardon to any person who supported the late-Vice President Barron and his illegal administration.
 
This country has been brought to the brink of civil war—it has to end, right here, right now.
 
We are all Americans and the time has come for us to pull together."

The President straightened his shoulders.
 
"Anyone who carried out activities—criminal or otherwise—in the name of who they
thought
was the legitimate President of the United States shall be granted a full and permanent pardon.
 
Only those people who committed serious felonies under a false color of authority will be prosecuted.
 
I have directed the Attorney General to form a task force comprised of the FBI and a coalition of state and county officials from around the country to facilitate this process.”

The President shifted his notes and his face darkened.
 
“And to those Americans who are still behind enemy lines in the Occupied States, know this:
 
My administration will stop at nothing to liberate you.
 
We have entered the highest levels of negotiations with the international community and I can assure you, your suffering is almost over.
 
I have taken drastic steps to isolate North Korea through a United Nations blockade around the Korean Peninsula which is moving into place as I speak…”

“None of that does the people in California any good,” spat Charlie.
 
“What are you doing to help
them?
” he shouted at the TV.
 
“Fucking politicians.”
 
Charlie pushed off from the bar and walked away.

Cooper tried to pay attention to the rest of Harris’ speech, but he was lost in thought, trying to imagine what it must be like for Charlie.
 
Knowing the woman you loved was dead…it was hard, but knowing she might still be alive with your son in no-man's-land, surrounded by foreign invaders…
 
Cooper looked after Charlie.
 
He was still living the nightmare and now that Cooper had joined the unwashed ranks of civilians, there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot he could do to help.