Siege: The Collapse

By AD Lamar

Damien and Seraiah have at last found shelter in Fortenza, a secluded haven promising safety from the treacherous world around them. Their hopes for tranquility are dashed when the town plunges into darkness as power grids fail and the internet is interrupted. Cut off from the outside, Fortenza itself becomes a battleground as ruthless gangs from neighboring Seattle descend upon the unsuspecting town.

As chaos ensues, the townsfolk unite to defend their home, but the conflict threatens to escalate into a full-blown war. Meanwhile, hidden in the shadows, Chinese secret police officer Jiang Qiaoping conspires with corrupt CIA and FBI agents to use secret advanced AI technology in a bid to destabilize and topple the government.

Caught in the crossfire, Damien and Seraiah must navigate a treacherous landscape of violence and deceit, realizing that their enemies are far more numerous than they imagined. With each passing day, their allies fall and the body count rises, until they find themselves backed against a fragile wooden barrier, the last line of defense against complete destruction.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: AD Lamar
• Release date: May 7, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224726684

Book preview

Chapter one

It was yet another cloudy and rain-misted day in the Pacific Northwest, and the crumbling sidewalks of the small town of Fortenza Washington were damp as Harvinder Patel and Damien Weber walked a slow patrol. Both of them were concealing a firearm under loose-fitting shirts and jeans. Damien wished he could carry the patrol rifle that he had liberated from the State Police cruiser, but his girlfriend, former Washington State Trooper Seraiah Thiessen had insisted that they keep a low profile.

As far as they knew, they were both wanted men, with outstanding FBI warrants issued in their name. For now, neither of them had seen a police officer for at least three weeks, since the power had mysteriously gone out. The sounds of gasoline generators hummed softly in the air, echoing off the trees. Some of the residents had pooled together and set up a few generators to make sure that anyone who needed power could at least get phones and laptops charged. The generators were powering a well that was quite productive, so drinking water wasn’t much of an issue for the time being.

Food had been a bit scarce, but the ladies at the church had been busy collecting donations and delivering meals to people who needed them. Damien himself had done so much gardening that his fingernails were permanently imprinted with dirt.

They had reached the bottom of the long hill that led up to the two houses that they were occupying. Damien was still sleeping on the couch in Ellie’s house, while Harvinder had taken a spot on the floor.

Damien was in a bad mood, but Harvinder seemed to be his usual optimistic self.

What’s the matter, LT.? Harvinder asked, using the nickname that Emmanuel had coined.

Ugh. Why does everyone call me that? He lamented, but the truth was the nickname reminded him of his lost friend. The last time he had seen Manny Melendez was on the unnamed smuggler boat as a pirate ship closed in. He might be dead, but Damien doubted this very much. Manny was alive, but there was no way to talk to him without the internet.

I’m sorry, I thought it might be a fun little nickname.

Yeah, no it’s fine. You’re right, I’m a little grumpy today. Ser got mad at me for something dumb, and I kind of got mad back. It was weird to talk about his love life, but it was also weird that he even had a love life. Harvinder and Austin were the closest things he had to friends at the moment.

What did she get upset about? Harvinder asked.

I don’t even remember the whole thing. She keeps worrying about her mom, but we should be more worried about ourselves. Her mom has a nice little farm to keep the food coming in, and we’ve almost been reduced to eating pine cones.

It was true, the town was running very low on food. Without the internet, there was no way for the grocery store to restock their supplies, and without electricity, they had been forced to sell or give away anything perishable.

Damien stopped, turning to Harvinder.

Do you miss being a cop? He asked his companion.

Harvinder pondered for a moment, but when he replied, there was no hesitation.

Yes, I do. I was good at my job.

Sure, but the President wants to shut down the FBI, right? It seems like he was right, the FBI is totally corrupt. They didn’t deserve to have you working for them.

Harvinder kept walking down the wet sidewalk. There was a tiny glimmer of sunlight peeking through the clouds, and the warmth felt good on Damien’s exposed face. He had shaved off the hobo beard and cut his hair short again. Both of them had painted small black triangles on their faces while they walked outside, in an effort to fool facial recognition software that might be spying on them from a drone.

What do you think happened to your apartment, do you suppose someone is squatting there? Damien inquired. Harvinder had spoken briefly about ‘Medina’, which was a gated and walled community in Seattle.

No, they are pretty strict about not letting strangers inside. Hopefully, it will still be there, but…I don’t think I will ever see that place again. Seattle is lost.

That’s a little bleak, don’t you think? Damien retorted.

You didn’t see what I saw. There were bodies in the streets, just lying there. No one even picked them up. I heard constant shooting, and that was just during the day. I am concerned that even the very secure areas might be overrun by criminals.

Harvinder’s apartment in Medina had been expensive, indeed the entire Medina block was surrounded by a very high wall, topped with razor wire, sensors, and patrolled by armed guards. It was supplied with private electricity and water, and there was a landing pad for food deliveries. In many ways, the Medina zone was everything that Seattle had once been, with nice restaurants, parks, and private schools.

They had reached the bottom of the hill, walking at a leisurely pace, when Damien paused.

Hey Harv, do you smell smoke? he sniffed the air. A normal cooking fire had a woody smell, but this was different, like burned plastic.

Yeah, but I don’t see anything burning. Harvinder wrinkled his nose at the acrid smell. They carried on through the small town, looking down the streets to try and spot any active fires. It took about fifteen minutes before they discovered the smoldering structure at the north side of the small town.

The small house was structurally intact, but it was clear that the inside had suffered a serious fire. There was still a bit of white smoke drifting from the scorched and broken windows. Harvinder carefully walked up to a window and peered inside.

I don’t see much, this looks like it was a bedroom. Completely burned, but the fire must have been put out before it spread to the rest of the house. Fortenza had a very modest collection of firefighting vehicles, mainly a large diesel pump truck, and two smaller electric versions that no longer functioned without power.

A middle-aged woman came out of the house next door to the burnt-out home, looking visibly upset.

Hey, what happened here? Did everyone make it out? Harvinder asked her. Damien was hoping to just keep moving, but Harvinder was still a cop at heart, and this was an unsolved mystery to poke into.

Are you guys with the firefighters? I don’t know how the fire started, but last night I saw flames shooting from a window, just little ones. I get up three times a night, you know, small bladder. Harvinder shot a glance at Damien, a tiny smirk on his face.

Did you say the volunteer fire department came by? Did they say how the fire started?

No, but that house has been for sale for three years. I think someone has been breaking into the abandoned houses around here, stealing things, maybe looking for food.

Damien had heard this from a few people. Almost a third of the houses in town were unoccupied, abandoned by owners who had moved away to find a better existence in a new state. It seemed likely that a number of these abandoned houses might be occupied by squatters. With no electricity to cook, someone probably decided to start a cooking fire, and they were fortunate that it didn’t get out of control. Most of the houses were made from wood, and the entire community was surrounded by forest. It wouldn’t take much to turn the entire place into a bonfire.

Are you ok? Do you need anything? Harvinder asked her.

Oh no, I’m fine, but you should talk to the woman across the street, her kids went missing yesterday morning. Damien felt a cold shudder run down his neck.

Yesterday? Wait what? he said, but the woman was already heading back inside her house, shaking her head.

Harvinder looked at Damien.

Yeah fine, we’ll go talk to her. He sighed. I feel like I should remind you that neither of us are cops, but we are, in fact, wanted felons.

Harvinder nudged Damien in the side with his elbow and knocked on the door of the two-story house. They waited for a few minutes, but no one came to the door.

I’m not surprised, she probably doesn’t know who she can trust anymore. I wouldn’t answer the door if someone took my kids. Damien said, and Harvinder just looked disappointed.

They decided to make a visit to the south part of the small town, just a few streets away. Harvinder was now walking much faster, and Damien had to work hard to keep up with him. He was about to ask his companion to slow down a bit when they heard a very familiar distant sound.

That was a gunshot Harv… Damien said, but Harvinder was already running, pistol out and head turning to try and figure out where the shots were coming from. Damien put on a burst of speed and caught up to the former FBI agent as he crossed an intersection.

A light gray, rusty, and rundown panel van was sitting in front of a house a dozen yards away, with the driver’s door wide open. Damien could see a person sitting in the front seat, one leg outside the vehicle, half standing on the roadway. The house that the van was parked in front of was a large two-story and nicely appointed, with well-kept trees in the front.

The entrance of the home was nothing but a black square, the door having been kicked in by someone who was probably still inside the house. Damien drew the Glock and put a bead on the man sitting in the driver’s seat, who had yet to see either of them through the cracked windscreen.

Wait, hold fire! Harvinder tapped Damien and motioned to his left. Damien nodded, and they silently moved to the blind side of the panel van, circling to the back and using the van as concealment for anyone who might be looking outside.

Another gunshot sounded from inside the home, followed by shouting and the sound of crashing furniture. Damien felt his hand grow damp on the textured grip of the Glock pistol. His eyes scanned everywhere, seeing the windows, entry and exit points, and potential ambush zones. They would need to hit the driver first, silently, so he carefully moved forward to see what was happening in the front seat. The driver was there, and Damien saw his face flash in the window.

Crap, he saw me, let’s move! The element of surprise was gone, which left the brute force of decisive action. He was good at this part, and it would feel good to hurt some bad guys once more.

Shouting from the house again, but louder. Harvinder could see the front door, and Damien saw him raise the pistol in a two-hand grip.

Stop! Harvinder's cop voice was loud and commanding, almost as loud as a gunshot in the quiet neighborhood. Damien moved to the front of the van, his pistol pointed at the windows of the van, ready to turn the driver into a corpse.

Three figures in dark clothing sporting red bandanas darted out of the front door, sprinting for the van. The first two were tall and thin, but the third was short, and Damien saw a flash of long brown hair under the cap.

That’s a female for sure, he realized.

Stop, get your hands in the air right now! Damien shouted, and he heard Harvinder shouting similar commands from the back of the van. They had the group in an excellent ambush position, with the only possible accurate return fire coming from the driver.

Unintelligible screaming came from the back of the vehicle, both Harvinder and someone else was shouting loud enough that Damien couldn’t tell what either of them was saying. He circled to his right to see what was happening and saw that the short member of the group was holding a small black pistol. The bandana was moving and the figure was waving the pistol wildly. Stringy dark hair flailed around their back as the figure postured and shouted at Harvinder.

Put that gun down! Drop it now! Damien heard himself screaming as he pointed the pistol. He glanced at the windshield of the van, but there was too much sun glare, and he couldn’t see what was going on inside.

The gasoline engine of the van roared, and Damien jumped onto the curb to avoid getting hit if the vehicle suddenly started moving.

The short figure turned to face Damien as he moved, and he saw the pistol moving to point at him.

Nope. He thought, and squeezed the trigger of his weapon, feeling the light recoil of the .40 S&W projectile as it left the barrel.

The tires of the van squealed, and Damien threw himself into a roll onto the lawn of the home, dodging the vehicle as it rammed up the curb and drove through the short wooden fence at the front of the house. Wood splinters and twigs scattered everywhere as the vehicle nearly rolled, barely keeping itself upright as it slammed back onto the road and sped around the corner. The sliding door banged open as it accelerated as fast as it was capable.

Damien rolled up to a kneeling position and scanned quickly. Harvinder was pointing his weapon at something in the long grass, and it took him a split second to remember that he had fired his weapon before almost being crushed under the rusty van’s balding tires.

Harvinder kicked at something in the grass, and a black pistol tumbled out to the sidewalk, skittering on the hard cement. Damien ran up and saw a thin girl lying on the ground, the bandana having fallen from her face.

She was white and painfully thin. The hollow spaces under her eyes belied at least a few weeks without proper food, and possibly an addiction to some very homemade drugs. She was gasping weakly, her arms splayed out. The bullet had struck nearly dead center in her chest, and the wound was definitely fatal.

Still, Harvinder frantically started tearing layers of dirty clothing from the girl, ripping her shirt down the center to expose the gunshot injury. He gently brushed the blood that was welling up with a balled-up wad of torn clothing.

Damien, find me some tape! I’ll make a flap so she can breathe. He was excited, but still in control of himself.

She can bleed out for all I care, Harv, I’m going to check on the people in the house that she was trying to rob. He said angrily, and ran past the door into the home.

The minute he was inside, a plate shattered on the drywall next to his head, and he flinched. Stop, wait! Good guys, good guys! He raised both of his hands, but quickly realized that he was still holding the Glock in his right hand.

Okay, don’t throw any more dishes at me please! He called out into the dark home, holstering the pistol. His eyes took a second to adjust to the dim interior, but he saw two people hiding behind a couch. One was a young boy, no more than 8 or 9, and the other was an elderly woman of at least 60. The woman was holding a stack of plates and was clearly prepared to keep hurling them. The sight of Damien standing in the doorway did not seem to ease their fear, until Harvinder poked his head into the door frame.

Ms. Kinsleigh? Are you ok in there? He said into the darkened room.

Mr Patel! the elderly woman croaked, setting the remaining plates carefully onto the kitchen table, and coming over to greet the two.

Are you hurt? We heard a gunshot! Harvinder looked at the woman, and then the boy, but they both appeared to be physically uninjured.

Those little buggers shot a hole in my kitchen window. Ms. Ashley told Harvinder, taking him into the kitchen to survey the chaos. There were small shards of glass on the counter and floor, along with some appliances that had been tossed and were lying broken on the floor. The young boy followed the woman, clinging to her with both arms.

Harvinder was reassuring and calm, and told the two of them what had happened outside, leaving out the fate of the woman for the sake of the young boy.

Damien looked at him, raising his eyebrows. Did our little friend…leave yet? he asked.

Harvinder nodded solemnly. So, the woman had died quickly, which was probably good. The town did not have enough medical supplies to spare for criminals with gunshot wounds, and if things continued to decay, there would be more victims soon enough.

We should get going Mr Patel. Damien said to his friend. We need to try and interrogate a corpse.

Harvinder was solemn as they walked back outside to see the body of the woman who had been part of the home invasion. There would hopefully be some information, documents or clues on her body that might provide some insight into where the group had come from.

The sun was now glowing nicely, and Damien felt the welcome warmth on his back as they knelt together.

This is my first. He said. Harvinder raised his eyebrows.

I thought you were a Ranger? No combat time?

Damien shrugged. Yeah, I had a deployment in Israel, but I was never behind the gun when things went down. At the time, I felt insanely jealous of the guys who cut little notches into the barrel of their rifles, but now…I just feel kind of sick.

It was completely justified. Harvinder said, but Damien put up his hands to stop him.

Yeah, I know. I still don’t feel good about it. She’s just a girl, look at her!

They did look at her. The stringy hair was knotted and unkempt, tucked beneath a military style camouflage cap. The red bandana that all four attackers had wore was likely some kind of group uniform, and this had slid down to her chin.

She looked about fifteen or sixteen at the most, almost a grown woman, but clearly still very young. Small scars criss crossed her wrists, visible as angry red lines as Damien picked up her arm to check for vital signs. It was an automatic thing, as she was clearly dead, but it seemed like the proper thing to do and his soldier’s instinct was still in control.

Definitely young, but she’s lived hard. Scars all over her, see here? Damien pointed to more scars that were hidden under the layers of dirty clothing. A few of the scars formed letters, obviously carved intentionally. He could see the hammer and sickle just on her right shoulder, a mark that was made with a hot brand rather than a knife.

Harvinder saw that as well, and did not seem surprised, but Damien was thoroughly confused.

What’s with the communist thing? I thought we won the cold war?

Harvinder laughed softly. Authoritarians and criminals like to dress up their crimes with red flags, and call for revolutions while they murder and steal.

These people wouldn’t last five minutes in a real communist country. The diehard revolutionaries are always the first to be purged. Ugh, what a waste. He dropped the girl’s arm and stood up in disgust.

Seraiah’s not going to like this. She’s trying to keep a low profile, and yeah, that’s a great idea but…these people aren’t going to just leave us alone.

Chapter two

Devin Wortman stood at the entrance to Fort Hood, an encampment that had been established 18 months earlier on the site of the abandoned Willow Pines campground along Highway 42 in Washington State. The place was perfect, with each campsite now hosting a tent or trailer where some previously homeless person was able to live in relative peace. They just needed to pay rent and follow his rules. More than a few of the sites were occupied by special trailers where customers could sample a purchase made from Fort Hood.

The Reds controlled this camp and three more like it at various places in the city of Seattle and outside in the rural areas. The State cops simply pretended that they didn’t see over a hundred people squatting on a campground, year-round. There weren’t enough Staties to evict them if it came to it. The Reds had been stocking all of their areas with homemade weapons, including heavy automatic weapons that were 3D printed and machined to nearly the same level of quality as the real thing.

Devin had picked the name Fort Hood as a throwback to his time in the Army, stationed at the real Fort Hood in Texas, which was known for being one of the worst military duty stations in the country, rife with gangs, prostitution, and human trafficking.

This smaller version of Fort Hood had started as a brothel and was now expanded into a major prostitution, theft, and smuggling center. They had a gas station, a small general store, and a pretty reliable power source in the form of a small river that some nerd had rigged up with a couple of water-powered generators. It still wasn’t where Devin wanted it to be, but Darrell had put him in charge of the operation three months ago, just before the…incident. No one had heard from Darrell in a few weeks, but the rumor was that he had been seriously injured, and they had him back up in Seattle, lying in a bed.

A rusty gray panel van had screeched to a halt in front of the gate, and the driver was ranting to Devin and his lover Paula Hale about why one of their team was now missing.

There were guys with guns over there Devin, at least five of them. We had a shootout, and I’m pretty sure that I killed two, and Audrey killed another one, but then she was shot like four times, at least. We had to haul it out of there as fast as we could!

The man was practically spitting the words out, the saliva flying past his lips and glistening on the hood of the van in the late afternoon sunlight. Devin pretended to listen to the story, but it was pretty obvious that there hadn’t been any major shootout. The van had no bullet holes for starters, and no flat tires or broken windows. Audrey was missing, so Devin figured that the team was ambushed and forced to flee.

Rather than let the man continue blathering, Devin walked up and slapped him on the face, hard enough that a small arc of spit flung around as the blow landed. He followed up with a shove to the man’s chest, tumbling him backward into the drainage swale that bordered the entrance to Fort Hood. Neither of these things would cause any permanent damage, but losing a teammate was a serious offense, and there needed to be some immediate consequences.

The driver lay on his back in the swale, surrounded by old leaves and mud. The confusion on his face was replaced, first by rage, but then by fear as Devin towered over him, holding the .50 Cal Desert Eagle that was his symbol of authority here at Fort Hood.

You can lay there for a few hours, and think about everything you just told me. When I come back, your story better change or there might be some further punishments. You hear me? I want the truth, from beginning to end, and you’re going to tell me the whole thing.

The man spluttered and protested, but Devin was already walking away. The sound of slapping and punching from his back told him that Paula had gone into the swale, and was laying into the man with her fists. Almost no one in the camp was more vicious than Paula, and there was a better-than-even chance that she might even kill the poor schmuck before he had a chance to actually ask more questions. He turned and whistled.

Paula! Save him for later, I need some information from him.

The diminutive woman stood up, her short dark hair glistening with sweat. She slowly ambled over to Devin and smiled at him almost contemptuously. The multitude of short dark scars that her stepfather had carved into her face stood out against the paleness of her skin.

Come on, let’s go. He’ll talk once he’s had enough of lying in the mud.

It was true. Devin made a slow circuit of the camp, making his presence known as he usually did, and having a short conversation with Antonio, the man who was in charge of the brothel that had been the core of the camp. A couple of new girls and one boy had been brought in several days before, and Antonio was in the process of breaking them. A couple of days without food sitting in the dark, and they became quite compliant…usually. If not, Paula would be there to provide her loving support in the form of long torture sessions.

Once Devin returned to the entrance, the man was on his hands and knees, pleading and begging for his life to be spared. Paula was about to aim a kick at his head, but Devin caught her arm.

Alright, let’s hear it. Why am I missing someone?