A Nation At War

By Nick Wilson

United We Stand

Until a Presidential power grab plunges the states of the US into a division it may not be able to recover from.
Travis, Chase, and Evan aren't really trying to get involved in the growing war between the eastern states of the true US and the newly formed 'Free States', declared by those who have seceded in the west. But their mission to rescue their loved ones, who have been taken as POWs, will force them right into the heart of the rebellion and the heat of the battle.

50 States, 3 Nations, Divided.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nick Wilson
• Release date: Dec 30, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393208495

Nick Wilson

Nick Wilson has formerly been both a police officer and criminal defence solicitor. He has now been a senior crown prosecutor with the Crown Prosecution Service for the last 15 years. He live on the Wirral

Book preview

Prologue

LIGHTNING flashed across the night sky, followed by the sound of rolling thunder, shaking the world in murderous claps as if even the sky itself was part of the vicious fighting happening below. The narrow dirt roads had been reduced to a wasteland of mud due to the downpour.

Despite the late hour, every street of the small Afghanistan town was flooded with people. They were normally a place of selling fruits, meat, jewelry, antiques, and anything else a person could haggle, but tonight they were swarmed by people frantically trying to escape the city. Some men pulled carts behind them with whatever belongings they were able to grab before fleeing, while others simply clung to their children as they drug them through the streets towards the nearest place of refuge.

One man, running with his daughter in his arms, sprinted through the city, weaving in between carts and pushing his way through the ever-growing crowds of people, determined not to let any harm befall his child. He rounded a corner and came face to face with a squadron of American soldiers making their way through the town. Every gun instantly flicked up to the ready, trained right on the man, but a single shout of civilians told them to lower their weapons.

The man did not understand the words they spoke, but the lowering of their guns was clear enough, and he rushed past them towards the exit of the city. The group of soldiers continued down the street, slowly checking houses as they went, finding each one to be clear.

The fighting in this city between the American forces and the rogue Afghanistan armies had been ongoing for twelve hours now, and still neither side had been able to secure the area. The rain had just recently begun and made vision nearly impossible, but neither force was willing to be the one to forfeit their foothold in the city.

The group of American soldiers rounded a corner onto a different street and were met immediately by gunfire, sending two of their men to the ground. The group only numbered a dozen, now ten, but they were highly trained and made up for in precision what they lacked in numbers.

The ambushing soldiers were hidden inside an old building at the end of the street, with hundreds of windows that made it almost too easy to pick off enemies from a distance. The American soldiers returned fire, but were quickly ordered to hold, as several civilian families suddenly raced across the street just in front of the building.

We’ve got to get inside that building! the captain shouted over the swirling noise of the storm and the fighting going on around them. Rodgers, Wade, and Ramirez, you go left through that building and clear the left side! Dickerson and Tarlon...come with me to the right! Hollins, Murray, Truman, and Logan, stay here and keep their fire focused on you!

Each man took his position and quickly executed the plan, with the two ranging groups heading for the building filled with hostiles. The muddy road clung to the soldier’s boots, weighing them down more and more with every step as they made their way closer and closer to the full force of the enemy.

Bullets whizzed by dangerously close to their heads as they fought their way down the edges of the street, finding cover wherever they could. With almost every bullet fired from a gun came a crack of lighting, making the two sounds almost indiscernible.

The group that had stayed at the end of the road continued to return fire towards the building, but enemy soldiers never stayed in the same window for more than a second. One of the soldiers in the right flank was suddenly struck with a bullet and immediately collapsed to the ground.

We have to get out there and make ourselves targets to draw their fire, a very young, brown-haired soldier from the middle group called out to his squad mates. It’s the only way to free them up so they can make it to the building.

The men in his group nodded. Together, the four soldiers charged into the street. Immediately, one of them was shot in the stomach, but the push caught the enemy soldiers off guard, allowing three direct hits and forcing the others to focus all their fire on the charging enemy. The medic of their squadron, who happened to be in the middle group, scampered over to his fallen brother and frantically began trying to stabilize his wound.

I’ve got to get Murray out of here if I’m gonna be able to stop his blood loss, the medic shouted over the blasts of gunfire and lighting.

Alright, I’ll buy you some time, the brown-haired boy shouted back.

One more look at the captain’s group showed they had now made it to the building and were entering through a small side door. He quickly burst out from behind the fallen vendor’s stall where they had been hiding and made a mad dash for a building side one hundred feet away.

Bullets scattered the ground around him and whizzed past his head, but he somehow managed to dive behind the wall without a scratch. He looked back to see the medic, Hollins, drag Murray safely around the corner and onto the next street, free of the fighting.

Suddenly, the bullets stopped coming for them. The enemy soldiers were now focused on the new threat, inside the building, as both right and left groups entered and caught them in a crossfire. After a few minutes, the captain was back outside, giving the signal for the middle group to join them.

Together, all carrying Murray, the middle group headed for the building to rejoin the rest of their squadron. The captain took a look at Murray but was too well trained to let an injury distract him before the mission was over.

The rest of our boys are headed for town hall where the Afghan army is set up! We need to cut across to the main street and join them before they start the assault! he shouted, commanding the men with absolute authority.

The captain was someone who formed bonds with each of the men under his command, leading them strictly but fairly, so the respect and obedience shown to him by his soldiers was unwavering.

The group moved with pristine fluidity and synchronization through the streets, towards the town hall. They had spent countless hours drilling during the years leading up to this tour. For most of the soldiers in this squad, this was not their first tour. Many had already been to several different places including Syria, Lebanon, and here in Afghanistan.

The squadron rounded a corner onto the main street of the town and again instantly came under fire, sending them reeling backwards for cover. The captain looked across the street to see another three squadrons about fifty yards back, pushing their way down the street towards the Afghan soldiers' fortified hold.

Wait for my signal! he yelled at his soldiers. He waited until the other squads were even with their position, then yelled, Now! and pushed his way into the street, firing right at the enemy's building.

The rest of his soldiers poured out behind him, following their captain right into the middle of the war-zone. They made great progress with their initial charge, firing round after round into the enemy, but once the surprise of the assault was gone, the enemy marked their position and the soldiers began dropping like flies, one by one, onto the battlefield.

What made matters worse was the thick mud that had been created by the rain. The dirt roads made movement for the soldiers painfully slow as they were dragged down by the extra weight, stunting their progress. However, the captain refused to accept retreat. He was determined to overtake the building and capture the town.

A wave of bullets struck out from the building, knocking three more soldiers to the ground. The other squadrons had gone down the right side of the road, pushing their way past carts and buildings and finding whatever cover they could during their headlong charge, but they were suffering an equally high number of casualties.

Some Afghan soldiers ran outside the building and were instantly picked off by the American soldiers, but the smarter ones stayed inside and continued to slow down the charge. Then a second wave came, forcing their group, now numbering only seven, behind a nearby building for cover.

Captain, we can’t keep this up. The rain is beating us as much as they are, the soldier named Ramirez argued in a rare lapse of obedience.

You stay in your place, Private, the captain ordered. Looking across the road at the other two groups that were still advancing, he said, We can stop when we take that building, and hurled himself back into the battle.

The other soldiers had no choice but to follow their leader. They pushed down the street, continuing to take heavy casualties, until finally they were only thirty yards from the building.

Just as a glimmering hope appeared that they might actually make it, an explosion was set off to their left, sending soldiers from the other groups sprawling. There was only a second to look before a grenade rolled out right in front of their group, lodging on a speck of mud.

Grenade! the first soldier screamed, signaling everyone to dive away. However, he was not so lucky. The mud made his movements slow and clumsy, and he only managed to get a step away before the explosion was triggered.

The captain avoided looking at Ramirez, now seeing how wrong his decision to continue the attack had been. Now that they were within close range of the building, they were sitting ducks in the mud and rain.

A second explosion ignited in a fiery ball to their right, and out of the corner of his eye he saw a third grenade land just to their left.

Fall back! Get out of here! Go for cover! he shouted pulling his men away from the scene and pushing them back down the street.

Despite his costly mistake on the battlefield, it did not go unnoticed that the Captain refused to take a step back down the road until each of his men had started the retreat.

One of the soldiers heard the orders and started to turn back towards the way they had come, when out of the corner of his eye he saw a flicker of movement coming from a house on the side of the street. He whirled around, then froze when he saw a family outside the door, looking directly at him.

The father had a rolled-up pack on his back and a young girl in his arms. The mother, hiding just behind her husband, held a newborn baby swaddled in her arms. Both their faces were filled with desperation and, although they did not speak English, he understood what word they were crying out. Please.

He took a single step towards them before the Captain was upon him.

Logan, I said fall back now, move your ass! he shouted.

Private Logan looked back desperately at the family. Sir, we can’t just leave them! he shouted back over the noise. They need help!

There isn’t time! If we clear out these soldiers, they’ll be safe...but we can’t do that if we’re dead! the Captain shouted back. Now move, Private! That’s an order!

The soldier still hesitated, knowing he should run to them and bring them on their escape, but disregarding orders was not a tolerable offense in the army.

Finally, the Captain, seeing his conflict, shoved him towards the street and into the full-scale retreat. As he ran, the young soldier looked back down the street. The father was holding his family in his arms, tears slowly rolling down his face.

Another grenade exploded to his right, forcing him and the Captain to fight even harder through the mud, but they finally rejoined their fellow soldiers at the safety of a side street. Before he rounded the corner however, the young soldier took one last look towards the wreckage they were leaving in their wake and watched in horror as the family was dragged into the Afghan base by a pair of soldiers.

Unable to watch the rest, he sprinted around the corner, preparing himself for the rest of the war to come.

Chapter 1

The alarm sounded for the third time before Chase Logan could force himself out of bed. Swinging his legs off the side, he arched his body in a massive stretch, then threw on clothes and headed for the bathroom.

Chase pushed his wavy brown hair to the side and stared blankly into the mirror at his own dark-green eyes as he brushed his teeth.

You better not be late again, called his cousin Travis, jokingly, or else they might run out of detentions to give you.

Chase ignored him and raced past him towards the kitchen, where his breakfast waited.

Travis was twenty-three years old, had short, brown hair similar to Chase’s, and hazel eyes. He was about six feet and two inches – which gave him two inches over Chase’s six-foot stature. Chase was only eighteen years old, but was nearly as well fit as his older cousin, with visibly toned muscles.

Their constant competitive nature had been aimed at each other since the day Chase’s mother had left him with her brother, when he was only six months old. They had grown up being rivals and best friends at the same time.

Chase’s mom had brought him to Virginia to leave him with his Aunt and Uncle with nothing but a blanket and an excuse. He had no memory of her, and neither did he want to after what she had done to him. He had spent most of his life trying to completely push the woman he had never known out of his mind, and instead focus on his real family. His Aunt and Uncle had raised him like their own, and Travis was his brother in every aspect except blood.

Running late again? his Uncle Robb said, with a slight tone of disapproval. How many detentions have you gotten this year already?

Not very many... Chase said, averting his eyes.

Uncle Robb was an average, fifty-year old man, with thinning grey hair and an innate ability to tell when people were lying. He raised an eyebrow at Chase. That’s not what the principal had to say when I talked to him on the phone yesterday.

Chase grabbed his bagel and hurried to the door. I have to go, Uncle Robb or I’ll be late. It won’t happen again. He raced out before he could hear his Uncle’s response.

Even though he wasn’t his real father, Uncle Robb had been as much of a dad as he could have asked for. He had taught Chase to play sports, how to drive, helped him with his homework, and most importantly, taught him countless life lessons concerning how a man should act in this world.

Uncle Robb lived by one rule: 'Before you do anything in your life, no matter how big or small, picture what the outcome will be, and see if it will be positive for both you and the people around you. Only act if the answer is yes.' Doing good in the world was his main goal in life, and he had transferred that lifestyle into both Chase and Travis.

Chase had been eight years old when his Aunt Debbie had died from breast cancer, and it had been as hard as losing a mom. His Uncle, however, took it much worse. There was a time right after her death when he could not function without her, and every thought of her brought new agony.

Soon though, he'd found his courage for his boys and made himself be strong for them. From that point on, it had been just the three of them, but they'd learned to make it work, and life had gone rather smoothly since.

Other than Chase’s problem with getting to school on time.

Not to be a jerk, but I’m going to start leaving you whenever you’re late, Evan said with a sarcastic smile, as Chase hurried down the street to where he stood, waiting outside his house.

I don’t want to hear it anymore, Chase said in mock exasperation as he clapped hands with Evan in greeting.

Evan towered over Chase, standing at six feet and five inches. He had very short, light-brown hair, dark brown eyes, and bulging muscles. He weighed over two hundred pounds, but not an ounce of it was overweight. His size and build could be contributed to an almost religious dedication to weightlifting which had begun in middle school athletics.

Evan and Chase had met in kindergarten, when Chase had tied Evan’s shoelaces together at nap time. Evan had answered by purposely falling on top of him and completely pinning him against the floor. They had been best friends ever since, and nothing had changed.

Before Chase could even slam shut the car door, Evan was backing out of the driveway. Being late meant the start of a long day, and they were all too familiar with that.

CHASE AND EVAN ARRIVED at their school only two minutes before the late bell rang. They hurried across the parking lot, swerving in between cars, and rushed down the long sidewalk leading to the entrance. When they pushed through the doors however, they ran right into the principal, Mr. Stiles.

Chase and Mr. Stiles had not seen eye-to-eye ever since his freshman year of high school, when Chase had covered his car with Aunt Jemima® maple syrup, and three years later their relationship had yet to improve.

Now that it was his senior year however, Chase worked extremely hard to simply stay away from him and avoid negative interaction, knowing that soon he would never have to deal with Mr. Stiles again.

In the name of... Mr. Stiles started, before recovering and changing his sentence to, What are you two boys doing out of class?

Just running late sir, Evan replied. Trying to make it before the bell. Excuse us.

Evan had a charm, especially with adults, which allowed him to often talk his way out of situations. With that in mind, Chase chose to remain quiet and try to slip past without any confrontation.

I assume you’re responsible for this, Mr. Logan? Mr. Stiles asked Chase nonetheless.

Chase grit his teeth and took a deep breath before responding, with the slightest touch of sarcasm, Yes sir. I was up late last night, doing homework and studying. I accidentally slept through my alarm.

Well, I know how I can help... the principal said with a cruel smile. I’ll arrange a time where you can do your homework before you go home. I’ll see you in detention today.

But the late bell hasn’t even rung yet. What did I do wrong... The end of his sentence was cut off by the sound of the late bell ringing throughout the hallway. Chase lowered his head in disgust.

That settles it then, Mr. Stiles said before turning and walking out the door.

Chase turned back towards Evan to see him unsuccessfully trying to hide a smile.

You know you brought it upon yourself.

Chase started to argue, but then stopped himself. Yeah, I know.

Together they finished their walk to class. The first of the day was Calculus, and that meant a combination of confusion and boredom for Chase. Thankfully they hurried in before their teacher, Mrs. Mitchell, had started the lesson. She gave them a distasteful look but said nothing.

What a surprise, Katie joked as Chase and Evan slid into their seats next to she and Loren. I know this one wasn’t on you Evan, because you were ready for school even before I was, and I made it with time to spare.

Katie and Evan were twins, and even though she was only twelve minutes older than him, she had always been the one to keep Chase and Evan out of trouble. Whenever she was with them, at least.

She was very tall, only a couple of inches shorter than Chase, with long dark hair that reached well past her shoulders, and eyes that were nearly identical to Evan’s. Chase’s friendship with Katie had started as a side effect of being friends with Evan, but it had grown almost equal as they had gotten older.

You better believe it was his fault, Evan said.

Seems to be a pattern, Loren added, which earned her an exasperated look from Chase.

Loren was Katie’s best friend, which was how her friendship with Chase and Evan had begun. Like with Katie, Chase’s friendship with Loren had grown stronger the older they got, and by the time high school started they all had become inseparable.

Loren had long, curly blonde hair that reached past her shoulders, and light blue eyes. She was only five feet and four inches, but made up for in spirit what she lacked in stature. She had at first been very quiet and shy, but after years of work Chase and Evan had brought her completely out of her shell.

Just as Chase started to respond with a clever comeback, Mrs. Mitchell walked to the front of the class and began the lesson for the day, sending everyone in the room into a hushed silence.

For the next hour, Chase found himself constantly falling asleep, and then being nudged awake by either Evan or Loren. He felt bad, because he actually liked Mrs. Mitchell. All year, her class had been his refuge. Whenever he was trying to stay away from Mr. Stiles, he would come into her classroom and 'study', which had led to a sincere fondness towards the older woman.

However, no matter how much he tried, math put him to sleep. He could only stare blankly at the numbers on the board for so long before his eyes forced themselves closed.

Mr. Logan, Mrs. Mitchell called out.

Chase’s eyes shot open. Yes ma’am, he replied tentatively.

Can you answer the question, she asked.

Chase hesitated, frantically trying to understand the problem on the board, before responding, I’m not sure.

She gave a disapproving look, but then moved on to explain the question herself.

I think we should just prop your eyelids open with toothpicks. That way you might actually be able to answer a question, Evan jested, which forced a choked laugh out of Katie.

I’m trying to rest up, Chase whispered back. It’s going to be a long day.

After Calculus came English, followed by Economics, and then Spanish, before lunch break finally came.

Chase went through the line with Evan, and then met the rest of their friends at their table. Most of these consisted of the basketball team, since that was how they all spent their days outside of school, whether at practice or playing pick-up games. Last year, their team had made it to the state semi-finals, but this year they were determined not to fall short again.

At the table sat John, a medium sized guard who could shoot the lights out of the gym; Clay, a big, stocky post who majored in rebounds; Blake, a tall, skinny guard who could out-run nearly anyone on the court; and Miller, a well-built, all-around athlete