for the boilers which are upstairs. They're bringing in a load in now."
"What's the plan?"
"We go to the lead locomotive. The engineer will be expecting us. Jim, unlock the door," says David.
"Yep," says Jim as he unlocks the door to the steam plant then carefully peeks in, just in case someone is there.
"The coast is clear. The door to the track is just over to the right."
They all file out, Jim leading the way. Opening the door that leads to the track, he looks around again. Likewise seeing no one, they exit through the door.
To their left is a long, long line of coal cars and to their right, three huge diesel locomotives. David points to the lead engine and they run for it.
The door to the lead locomotive's cab swings open and an engineer steps out waving. Gesturing, he points to the ladder at the rear of the diesel electric engine. The ladder leads up to a walkway along the side of the locomotive and ultimately to the cab. Another engineer steps out of the cab and heads the other way down the walkway at the end of which he hops onto the second locomotive. He waves back as he enters the second engine's cab.
Without warning, they hear a loud blast of air pressure being released followed by a clanking sound. The locomotive lurches a bit. The engineer directs them into the cab and says, "Take a seat, guys. We're uncoupled and on our own."
Munson sits in the chair next to the engineer and the others vie for the two remaining while the rest sit on the floor, backs against the walls.
In a shuddering, grinding rumble the diesel engines rattle to life, followed by billows of sooty black smoke that the wind disperses across the front and side windows.
"So, ya'wanna go to Omaha?" say the engineer loudly as he works several controls.
"That's the plan," replies David.
"You bet. Just got the orders on the computer from network operations in Omaha. EMERGENCY DIRECTIVE... EXPECT SEVERAL PASSENGERS YOUR LOCATION APPROX 15:45 CDT... DEADHEAD WITH SAME ALL POSSIBLE SPEED OMAHA UNION STATION... EMERGENCY PRIORITY. DO NOT, REPEAT, NOT STOP.... ALL TRACK FT DODGE - OMAHA CLEARED.... You must have some fucking pull, guy! You've shut down the busiest rail junctions in this country."
With that, he flips a bank of switches and swings a lever all the way to the right.
Screeching wheels spin, steel on steel, and the locomotive, detached from the train, lurches forward.
"So, I guess we're goin'ta Omaha. Hang on guys."
Picking up speed, it swings around the long loop used by the coal trains to off load their contents before returning to the main line.
Coming to the end of the loop, the engine joins a track west. About two miles later, continuing to pick up speed, now about 40 miles an hour, it merges onto the primary east-west line.
All the signals ahead are green. The engineer flips more switches and the engine roars louder. The pace of the undercarriage clicking increases.
Shouting over the engines, David says, "How fast can you go?"
"Not sure, never tried!"
"How about the track? Its it ok for high speed?"
"Oh, yeah, it's new, made of that new steel. It'll take it. Nice, flat, straight and smooth. Pity we can't get anymore since that the progressives seized the steel plant."
The diesel engine is at full throttle. The roar slowly changes to a uniform thrumming. The track clacks away, faster each minute. The speedometer reads 50, rising.
Long, deafening blasts on the air horns and the Doppler rise and wane of passing clanging signal bells herald their clattering charge through the urban grade crossings.
After a few minutes, they rumble beyond the last outskirts of Ft. Dodge and out onto the flat, endless prairie. The speedometer now reads 70, rising.
Unseen network controllers in Omaha instruct switching tracks ahead to slam into place and a cascade of westbound signal towers turn green. The engine rattles through one and veers left, southwest, on the Omaha line. The track before them is a straight line disappearing in the horizon. As the engine rushes across the land, they see little but plowed fields and an occasional farm house, barn and silo.
Now pushing 90 miles an hour, the engineer shouts, "We should be there in about an hour and a half."
"Good," says David turning to Munson, thumbs up.
Time: 4:00 PM
The radio in Mark's copter crackles and shrieks and a distorted, scratchy voice says, "We got a report of a locomotive seen leaving Ft. Dodge at high speed, deadheading west out of Ft. Dodge."
"Where is it now?"
"We're not sure exactly. We're trying to locate it following the train tracks. According to the map, this line passes north of Lake City and then straight onto Omaha. If it's them, they're probably heading for the Nebraska Free State."
"Roger that. Keep me posted. Let me know if you spot it," replies Mark.
He checks in with his agents on the ground and in the other copters. No other leads. No sign of them.
Marshal law is declared in Ft. Dodge as brutal house to house searches begin in the University area. Multiple SWAT teams with battering rams bash their way up one street and down the next. They ransack each hose and apartment with cunning efficiency, leaving a trail of debris in their wake. Being extra destructive always impresses the locals. But they find nothing.
Mark gets through to NSA via satellite radio and explains what's happened. NSA, in turn, contacts DeWitt and alerts the other agencies. The NSA Utah domestic spying headquarters goes into full DEFCON 5 mode as do the other agencies.
In San Francisco, DeWitt is, by now, in a state of total panic. She screams orders at underlings and demands answers that none of them have. Homeland security is flummoxed. They've lost contact with their prepositioned agents. No one is answering. The coup is collapsing and Munson is missing.
Munson's exposé is being transmitted to a shocked nation. DeWitt tries giving her preplanned speech to a small nervous TV pool but Munson's narrative has control of the airwaves, her press barons are now hedging their bets that she won't be around much longer. She declares marshal law and orders the Army and Air Force to full alert.
No one is listening. No one cares.
The Free State governors, having known that this was coming, were fully prepared. At noon they began quietly rounding up Homeland, NSA, SS and DIA goons while their National Guard troops fanned out and began occupying the federal buildings in major cities. Once disarmed and their phones confiscated, DeWitt's people are herded into sport stadiums pressed into service as temporary jails.
A few DeWitt loyalists in St. Louis, getting wind that their plot has been exposed, barricade themselves behind the thick stone walls of the old federal court house. They attempt to fight back but a few National Guard artillery rounds extinguish their brief resistance in a hail of crushed stone.
While a few military bases claim to remain loyal to DeWitt, most hoist the rebel Free State flag.
NSA resorts to form and furiously attempts to disrupt communications and to blackmail or bribe anyone they can contact. Chaos rules in Utah. Their efforts are useless. Senior agents begin discretely erasing the records of their most heinous crimes.
DeWitt knows she needs to get back to her power base in Washington and orders Air Force One to be prepared. She and her entourage run like rats from their $10,000 a night luxury suite up to the hotel roof. There, a waiting Marine One helicopter is waiting to ferry them to Travis Air Force base.
As her copter rises, she cringes as she sees celebrations breaking out in the streets below. She's even lost the moonbat Peoples Republic of San Francisco!
Time: 4:15 PM
The radio in Mark's copter rasps, "We've found it. It must them. It's going nearly 100 MPH."
"Just a locomotive, nothing else?" replies Mark.
"Yep, just the locomotive, like the report said."
"Where are you now?"
"Just closing with it. We're about 3000 yards behind."
"Can you see anything in the cab?"
"We'll pull
closer and try. Here are our GPS coordinates."
The pursuing copter co-pilot reads the GPS coordinates and as the pilot closes on the locomotive."
Mark barks, "We're on our way. Report what you see then try to stop it and I don't care how. All units, head for that locomotive."
Mark's copter tilts left, the rotor revs up, and the chase is on.
Time: 4:20 PM
From a distance, the lone yellow and red railroad locomotive seems to float across the prairie, past farm houses, brown tilled spring fields, silos, windmills and a few tractors planting for a corn crop that will be a 10 foot deep sea of green in three months. Before them, the sun is hanging in the west in a cloudless sky.
David makes a phone call.
Ryan says, "Is that a good idea?"
In a loud voice in Ryan's ear, David says, "It's being routed so the real destination can't be determined and I'm using an anonymous, prepaid phone so no one knows whose it is. We buy these at DiscountMart and modify their operating systems. And, for God's sake, it's a flip phone. You don't think I normally use one of these, do you?"
"Ya' never can tell," says Ryan, grinning.
David, with his hand over one ear, struggles to hear the voice on the other end. Nodding and grunting he finally flips it shut and says, "Crap, Mark knows where we are. His helicopters are trying to catch up with us. They'll be here soon."
"How'd you find out?"
"I got guys monitoring radio traffic."
They begin to scan the sky behind them. Phil is the first to see the tiny black spec, in the distance, off to one side. It is closing. It's a lone copter, moving at very high speed.
Slowly it