Them-2 - Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty Six – Nantucket Island

President James W. Crebbs was irate. There was no doubt in his mind that General McKensey was feeding him a line of bull. The mechanized division he requested be sent to Nantucket was, still in the assembly stage, according to the General. Not only that, all Air Force transports were being used to transfer military personnel and their families to secure locations. The impertinent man even had the audacity to recommend he relocate; for safety’s sake, to Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado.
“When in hell is General McKensey going to allocate planes to transport the new representatives here!” Crebbs yelled. “I can’t run a government without a congress.”
“The General assured me that as soon as first priorities are taken care of the transports will be made available,” his Chief of Staff quickly replied.
“Priorities! Priorities! You mean the general’s priorities!” the President gushed. His face was turning red with anger and built up frustration. “I gave that damn General an order and he acts like he can countermand it at will. My military aide tells me that our overseas units are still being staged for redeployment back home and General Burkett at Fort Carson reported that McKensey has ordered all units to consolidate in four locations nationwide; Fort Carson, Fort Lewis, Fort Benning, and Fort Drum.”
“McKensey has established his command headquarters at Cheyenne Mountain, along with the rest of the Joint Chiefs, sir,” his Press Secretary added.
“Does that sound like the General is obeying my orders?” President Crebbs spat. He looked across the desk at the Lieutenant Colonel who was his acting military liaison. “Get me General Meyers?” He ordered. “As of right now General McKensey is retired. Air Force General Bob Meyers will immediately replace him as head of the Joint Chiefs. See to it that the order is sent.”
“That may not be a wise decision,” his Chief of Staff stated. “To change commanders in the middle of a fight is never a wise decision.”
“The military responds to the orders of the civilian government,” President Cribbs glared back. “When that military fails to respond to orders, it can be construed to be an act of treason. As far as I am concerned, General McKensey has stepped over the line. He must be replaced for the good of the country.”
At that moment several people threw open the doors of the large meeting room and rushed in. “They’re here!” a female clerk screamed, her eyes wide and panicky.
President Cribbs jumped up from his seat so fast his chair fell over and hit the floor behind him. He glanced fearfully at the Secret Service Agent standing in the corner. He had never been interrupted in so casual and blatant a manner. “What are you talking about woman?” he yelled back at her.
“The ants!” She screamed again. “The ants! They’re crawling all over the island. People are dying. There’s blood everywhere. There’s no place to hide.”
Everyone in the room ran to the windows overlooking the streets below. What they saw paralyzed them with fear. Huge ants were swarming over cars, tearing people apart, climbing the buildings across the street, and crashing through windows. As they watched several police officers were literally ripped to pieces, their pistols completely ineffective. More and more ants poured into the street, pulling people from cars, breaking into store fronts and dragging bodies out into the streets, streets that were already running red with blood.
“We’ve got to get you to your limo!” the Secret Service agent yelled. “It’s armored and the only safe place right now.”
Before the President could answer, several giant ants tore their way through the windows and entered the room, quickly followed by half a dozen more. The Secret Service Agent drew his pistol and started firing at one of them. The rounds only seemed to make the ant angry as it rushed to the Agent and gripped him in its dripping red mandibles. President Cribbs was drenched with the Agent’s blood. He had mere seconds for the red drops to register in his mind before another hungry ant decapitated him.

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General McKensey folded his cell phone and sat it down on the table. He glanced up at the Navy Admiral who was briefing him on transport movements. “The President’s dead,” McKensey bluntly stated. “The ants attacked Nantucket a few minutes ago. The President’s limo driver made it to the airport and was picked up by a C-151 transport plane. The pilot of the plane just called in.”
Admiral Samson glanced down at the table, which was piled high with printouts. “What about the rest of them?” He was referring to the Cabinet members and other political appointees.
Hyram shook his head.
“I guess you know what this means, don’t you?” Admiral Samson asked.
It took Hyram a few moments to realize what the Admiral was referring too, and then the significance of the situation hit him. “It means that as the last surviving congressional representative, Congressman Watkins is now President of the United States. Is he still here or has he been forwarded?”
“He should be safely at Cheyenne Mountain by now,” Admiral Samson replied. “And, so should you.”
“His family?”
“We sent word to Colonel Fuller in Bowling Green to detach several Bradleys and send them to the little town where their C-130 landed. No word yet.”
Addressing Colonel Bellows, his own Chief of Staff, Hyram said, “See if we can locate a federal judge and have him stand by to administer the oath to him. The moment we verify the death of the President and all other elected representatives, he must fulfill his constitutional duties.”
Admiral Samson looked somewhat skeptical. “Are you certain you want a brand spanking new congressman taking command during the most critical situation our nation has ever faced?”
“I will not be a dictator.” Hyram staunchly replied. “I have met Congressman Watkins and I know he will take our advice into consideration. After all, that’s what we’re paid to do.”
“Colonel Bellows, have the General’s stuff packed for immediate transport to Cheyenne,” Admiral Samson grinned. “Our boss will also be leaving as soon as possible.” He gave Hyram a disapproving look. “We can’t afford to loose you General.”
Hyram nodded at Colonel Bellows to fulfill his orders. “Now, give me a rundown on the latest events overseas, Admiral.”
Admiral Samson, whose specialty was intelligence, bent over and moved some papers from a world map lying on the table. “I’ll start with the Pacific. North Korea has threatened to invade South Korea if we pull out. We think they’ll wait until our forces have been withdrawn to do so. The South has declared martial law and deployed its forces in preparation for the invasion. Our forces there have been marshaled and are loading onto transports as we speak.”
Admiral Simpson picked up a bottle of water and took a deep drink. “China has already started an invasion of Taiwan. They assure us that they are not interested in further conquests and will stop with that acquisition.
“Like hell!” Hyram grinned.
“Australia is gearing up for possible Chinese expansion. Japan advised both North Korea and China that it would use its nuclear arsenal if their sovereignty is threatened. We all knew Japan had the bomb. India is moving troops to the Chinese and Pakistani borders. Our forces have left Afghanistan and Iraq and are in route home. Every tramp steamer and cruise ship we could find, rent, or steal is loaded down with our military personnel and their armor. Iran is moving forces to the Iraqi and Saudi border in preparation for an attack. Israel advised its neighbors that it will use its nuclear forces if attacked, so it appears that the rest of the area is quietly steaming at the moment.”
“What about Europe?” Hyram pointed to the map. “Are our NATO allies pissed off at us?”
“Actually, I think they understand,” Admiral Sampson replied. “Russia is laying back and taking it all in and the rest of Europe seems to be in a wait and see mode. Germany is a bit nervous with all those Russian tank divisions maneuvering all over the place, but they realize as much as we do that the Russians do not have the logistical capability to do anything right now.”
“What about South and Central America?”
“Very little activity. Most are concerned about our grain shipments. Without American food aid, many small countries across the globe will be hit very hard and starvation may become a most critical factor.”
“That’s bothering me also,’ Hyram sighed. “Our own transportation system is rapidly breaking down. Food shipments cannot get to the cities and fuel for the plants to manufacture food items is running low. We do not have the military capability to protect the trucks from the ants right now. Have you dispatched armor to the food producing factories to salvage what food we can, including bulk food we can store in secure areas?”
“As ordered, General.
“As for the ants, it’s getting worse,” Admiral Sampson gritted his teeth. “They have practically taken over an area of about a two hundred mile circumference from their origin at Bowling Green. Every small and large town has been attacked and the populations wiped out. Besides Washington, D.C. they have been sited in over thirty major cities from as far south as New Orleans, West to El Paso, North to Minneapolis, and of course Chicago, Detroit, Baltimore, Boston and Nantucket. No sightings on the west coast so far. Overseas they are in Mexico City, Havana, Caracas, two places in Ireland, five places in Great Britain, one in France, two in Spain, and half a dozen in North Africa.”
Hyram thought about the overall situation then shrugged. “I wonder if the ants will get us first, or will it be World War Three?” There was no doubt in his mind that the world was geared up for massive conflict, especially since the great peacekeeper was tucking tail and running home. As each country realized that it could not feed its population without worldwide commerce, each would start looking for easier pickings. Any neighbor who had more food than might, would end up being invaded. History was replete with the strong taking over the weak.
“All of our war stocks have been loaded onto US Navy vessels and those vessels are steaming for home,” the Admiral continued. “I’m talking primarily about food stocks such as MRE’s, bottled water, nonperishable and canned items, and munitions we have found effective against the ants. The heavy stuff we left in place.”
“I bet the media is having a field day,” Hyram grinned. “Never did have much use for those armchair generals and talking heads.”
“Most of them have been cooperating quite sincerely. We’ve had a drastic surge in media request to post field reporters with out units, armor units of course. After the fiasco at Bowling Green few want to be with the infantry.”
“What about Colonel Fuller and his men stranded in that mall?”
Admiral Samson shook his head.

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Colonel Fuller hung the handset on his radio and glanced at Major Randall, his Chief of Operations. He shook his head and rubbed his tired eyes with the heels of his hands. “No good,” he muttered. “The M113’s are breaking down all over the place. By the time they reach here, there won’t be enough of them to carry even a third of the men to safety. Not only that, every time they lose a carrier, the crews fill up the other carriers. They can’t even stop to refuel the vehicles because of the damn ants. They’re everywhere.”
“What about using tractor trailers with steel shipping containers, sir?” Major Randall asked.
“The cabs are not armored and the ants can get into them,” the logistics officer answered.
“No. I mean have the Bradleys go out and find shipping containers on wheels and hook them up and pull them to us here. They can shoot holes in the containers with armor piercing rounds so the soldiers can breathe.”
Colonel Fuller smiled at Major Randall. “By God mister, it might just work. Call the Bradley commanders and issue the order. They already know that time is of the essence. It will be daylight in a few hours and I, for one, don’t want to spend another day down in these damn concrete cellars.”
Before daybreak the remaining Bradleys, assisted by the M-113’s that had made it to the Mall, found and staged fourteen steel shipping containers. Based on the capacity of the containers, Colonel Fuller determined that he could load his entire command, what was left of it. It would be a tight fit and the troops would be packed in like sardines in a can, but that was better than waiting for the ants to dig their way into the Mall basement area.
Colonel Fuller had the drivers back the containers up to the main entrances to the Mall then issued orders to his commanders to load up as fast as possible. Armor piercing rounds from the Bradleys had already made enough holes in the containers for the soldiers to breathe.
“Is everyone accounted for?” Colonel Fuller glanced at Major Randall.
“All units are accounted for except Charlie Company,” Randall replied. “Colonel Rafferty says several platoons were manning the perimeter when the ants attacked and they are not sure of their status. He wants to check the area south of the mall for survivors.”
“Tell Rafferty to forget it!” Colonel Fuller yelled. “Anyone outside over the past twenty-four hours is gone. Tell him to get what’s left of Charlie Company loaded so we can get the hell out of here.”
“No reply from Rafferty, sir!”
“Shit! Major Randall, move the convoy out, I’ll find Rafferty.” Colonel Fuller jumped from the ramp of the Bradley and signaled for the drivers to take off. He ran across the echoing asphalt and within minutes he spotted several soldiers moving in the direction of the hole they classified as the opening to the ant nest. Dawn was beginning to break.
Colonel Fuller fired several rounds into the air to get the attention of the soldiers who were now about a hundred yards away. Around seventy men halted and turned in his direction. Fuller jogged over and stopped a few feet from the Captain leading the patrol.
“Where in hell is Colonel Rafferty?” Colonel Fuller demanded, breathing hard from the short run.
“He led second platoon over to where the artillery was deployed,” the young Captain replied. “I tried to contact him by radio but he doesn’t answer.”
“Call Major Randall and have him swing over this way with one of the containers. I don’t give a damn if we have to pour your men into it, get them loaded! Understand Captain?”
“Understood, sir.”
“As soon as you’re loaded, have them swing over to where the artillery batteries were. I’m going to find Colonel Rafferty.”
Colonel Fuller took off towards the West Side of the Mall. His eyes darted left and right searching for signs of any ants. It was almost fully dawn and the sun would be climbing into the sky in a matter of minutes. He spotted a group of several dozen men walking in his direction.
“No sign of survivors at the artillery battery,” Colonel Rafferty stated, as soon as he was within speaking distance.
“Something wrong with your radio, Colonel?” Colonel Fuller barked. “I sent orders for everyone to load up, no exceptions.”
Colonel Rafferty looked at the young Lieutenant in command of the platoon he was with. “Radio operator went with Captain Morris.” The Lieutenant looked sheepishly at both colonels.
“Jesus, Joseph, Christ!” Colonel Fuller blurted, shaking his head in disgust. “Combat patrol with no radio!”
“Here they come!” One of the soldiers pointed to the south.
They glanced in the direction he was pointing and saw several ants slowly making their way across the asphalt.
“Back to the artillery battery!’ Colonel Fuller yelled.
In minutes the under strength platoon took cover behind the stacked crates of artillery shells and started pouring concentrated fire into the bodies of the first ants to arrive. Before long several dozen ants joined in the attack and their position was being quickly overran. The soldiers were rapidly running out of ammunition.
Colonel Fuller slotted his last magazine into his M16. He watched in sadness as the men around him started throwing their empty rifles at the angry monsters. The smell of burned powder, coppery blood, and formic acid was almost overpowering. The terrible noise of screaming men filled his ears. He reached over and grabbed the fuse on one of the artillery rounds and set it to impact detonation. He stood and emptied his M16 magazine into an ant headed in for the kill. The rounds tore the creature’s head to pieces.
Colonel Fuller threw the empty rifle away and pulled out his 9mm pistol. “You want a piece of me!” he yelled at the swarming ants. “Come and get it!” Colonel Fuller fired into the head of the artillery round.
Sixty yards away the driver of the Bradley, who had just picked up Captain Morris and his Company, slowed to a stop as a tremendous explosion rocked the parking area. The entire pile of artillery ammunition had blown sending pieces of ants and men flying for hundreds of feet. Major Randall ordered the driver to turn around and rejoin the convoy. His friend and mentor, Colonel Fuller, had died like a real paratrooper.