Retribution Road by Jon Coon (e reader comics .TXT) 📕

Nothing was left. His distribution network had been destroyed, years of careful personnel recruiting and management vaporized. His revenue stream, once a river, now a dry riverbed. Lareina and the children nearly killed in the air raid. He’d seen it on the news from Miami on his phone.

He desperately wanted to talk to Lareina, to know that she and the children were all right, but knew NSA could monitor any call he made. So, he looked at his phone with frustration and put it back in his pocket.

He was heartbroken and alone, the good he’d attempted was obliterated. The caravan to the US border would fail. Children in the camps would starve, hospitals would go without medicines, schools would close. The only thing left was revenge: retribution for decades of US and Mexican government apathy. The gringos were behind everything, and now they had to pay. It was time for them to feel real pain and loss. The kind he’d intended in the Baytown refinery attack. This time would be different. This time they would know the force of his hatred and the might of his revenge. His own personal jihad.

So he painted with a fury, and he waited, and he swore this time would be different.

All Señora Caldera could tell them about her husband’s plan was the target. She realized that an attack on Miami would destroy all hope of redemption for Juan and therefore for Chiapas. She called her children to her side and explained the urgency of her trip to find their father. Then she ran to her room, changed, and rode with Gabe and Carol to the plane. She sat beside Carol, who held her hand and tried to assure her they would find him before it was too late.

Gabe was on his phone as they rode back to the plane. He alerted Senator Benson of the threat and told him of Tom’s crash, presumed death, and then their success with Señora Caldera. Benson listened carefully and promised to pull out all the stops to find Tom and the sub. Senator Benson told Gabe and Carol to take Lareina to Miami as soon as possible.

The old bomber was slow and steady. The afternoon became evening and the evening night. Fortunately the electronics had been upgraded to include IFR so that when they were on approach in heavy clouds, Carol wasn’t flying blind.

She made an acceptable landing at Homestead Air Force Base. They were met and rushed to a chopper waiting to take them to a bunker on the south side of the base.

Senator Benson met them in a conference room. He was gracious to the attractive Señora Caldera, who in turn thanked him for his offers to help solve her state’s economic woes.

The military strategists had decided the most effective way to inflict maximum damage on Miami was to cause a nuclear blast at the Homestead Nuclear Power Station on Biscayne Bay, south of the heart of the city. They had dispatched military security and were establishing a secure perimeter.

But as that was happening, a cluster of seaweed and debris made its way west, up the channel that came from the deeper part of the Bay providing cooling water for the nuclear plant. It moved slowly and at times passed or merged with similar mats of seagrass Caldera had launched over the past two days. The flat, black hull of the sub, with the conning tower and masts removed, was invisible beneath the camouflage, and it motored unnoticed toward the inlet.

Gabe paced anxiously. “I’ve got to get out of here. Can you get me back on that chopper?”

“I’m going too,” Carol said, “There’s nothing we can do here. At least we can be another set of eyes up there.”

“Do we still have the tracking devices to pick up the signals from those subs?”

“Yes, but weren’t all of them found after the raids?” Benson said.

“You didn’t get Caldera’s sub. He’s still out there,” Gabe said.

Lareina sat quietly beside Carol, saying little, watching everything.

“That unit is probably still on the Poseidon,” a tech sergeant offered. “I’ll call the hangar and find out.”

“Could we be so lucky?” Gabe said. He stood and stretched his back. It had been a long day.

“Got it,” the tech said, “They’re sending it over now.”

“Have them meet us at the chopper.” He and Carol were on their feet headed toward the door. “Señora, do you want to come with us?”

“If it’s all right, I’m going to wait here. I’ve tried calling Juan several times. He might answer.”

Senator Benson gave her a hard look.

“It’s all right,” Gabe said. “We can trust her. If she talks with Juan, it will be to convince him to take your offer and call this whole thing off. Isn’t that right, Lareina?”

“You have my word. On the soul of my dead madre.”

“Okay, let’s go,” Gabe said, and they ran to the Jeep that would take them to the chopper.

Once onboard, Gabe asked the pilot, “Can you find the submerged channel that comes in from the bay? The one that pulls in the cooling water?”

“Could be tricky at night, but we’ll give it a shot.”

“Okay, let’s do it.”

They were in the air and over the bay in a matter of minutes. It was four A.M. and black as pitch. Then, Gabe got a signal on the tracker.

He gave the pilot a range and bearing from his computer, and they flew in low.

Lareina had her cell phone out on the table in front of her, and she stared at it intently, as if staring hard enough might make it ring. Senator Benson sat across from her, still undecided as to whether she was someone he should trust. In her pocket, she felt her other phone silently vibrate. The one Juan used. The only one.

She stood and said “El baño, por favor. Sorry. May I use a bathroom please? I’ll leave my phone here.”

Benson nodded and motioned for