Chapter 7

The room had been silent for almost an entire minute. The news of the events in Texas weren’t just devastating for the war, but also for the country. The images on the projector were those of ashes. With the inevitability of defeat approaching, Gordon had taken a scorched-earth policy, ordering his men to torch everything on their retreat back to Topeka. Gordon had now surrounded himself in a ring of fire, which was growing out of control.

“Fucking coward!” General Mears said, slamming his chubby fists into the table. The rest of the joint chiefs joined Mears in his frustration, and it wasn’t until Frizen spoke that the rest of the room finally calmed down.

“We’ve accomplished our objective,” Frizen said. “Gordon is completely cut off from the rest of the country. He has no supply routes coming into Topeka, and what’s left of his forces are there with him in the city. I need to know what our resources look like for the final push.”

General Mears did his best to compose himself, but the red in his cheeks had run so deep, it looked as though they would remain permanently stained that way. “The boots on the ground are tired but are still well stocked with supplies. Our biggest enemy besides Gordon right now is fatigue. But I’ll tell you this,” Mears said, pointing his finger at the burning images of towns, cities, and people, “there isn’t a soldier in the field right now who doesn’t see what Gordon’s doing. And there isn’t a soldier out there who isn’t foaming at the mouth to bring this bastard down.”

The rest of the joint chiefs nodded in agreement. Frizen had to brief the president in less than twenty minutes, and when he walked into the Oval Office to deliver the news of the loss of three refineries in Texas, as well as the devastation in Oklahoma City, Jackson, Mississippi, and countless others in the south, he wanted to make sure the president knew his military had a plan of action on how to end this reckless, trigger-happy tyrant’s tantrum.

“All I need to know from you, General, is that your men will be able to handle the situation,” Frizen said.

“Yes, sir. They will.”

“Very well. I’ll inform the president while we prepare for the invasion.”

Frizen tucked the stack of papers under his arm and headed out of the war room. The conflict was almost over, but they’d now reached the hardest push. There was a reason Frizen had wanted to cut off Gordon’s supply routes and choke him out: Topeka had tens of thousands of Coalition troops, and while Topeka didn’t have an extensive population that would create many civilian casualties, the men in those sentry uniforms were still citizens of this country. With the Coalition’s resources dwindling right in front of them, Frizen was hoping those individuals under Gordon would surrender. Many of his units gave up easily enough with every farm camp and community the soldiers invaded, but the closer they drew to Topeka, the more loyal Gordon’s men became.

It was there in Topeka where they were given the lavish comforts the rest of the country were denied. There were sentries and Coalition officials who lived better than the president, and without anyone knowing their names. But once the military road into Topeka had flipped the Soil Coalition over to expose its scaly underbelly, there wouldn’t be any other places for the creatures clinging to life underneath to hide. All they would be able to do is scurry off before the heel of a boot squashed the last bits of life out of them.