Free State of Emergency: Jack Emery 2 by Steve P. Vincent Page A

Dan?” Jack looked around, paranoid they were being watched. “You’ve taken an almighty risk.”
    Ortiz shrugged. “Look, these pricks are clamping down on the country that I fought for. I want you to get the word out. There’s regular citizens resisting all over the country, and even a couple of smaller military units, but they’re isolated and being picked off by the State Guard.”
    Jack wasn’t surprised. You couldn’t just turn America into an armed camp and not have problems, but the government had kept news of the trouble quiet. “Where?”
    “I need your promise that you’ll report it.”
    Jack hesitated. “I can’t promise anything, Dan. You know what I’m risking.”
    Ortiz smiled, a clear twinkle in his eyes. “You think I’d bust my way off base wearing this shit to meet with your sorry ass if I didn’t have something decent for you?”
    “Maybe?” Jack let it hang.
    “Take this.” Ortiz rummaged through the tote bag that he carried and held out a manila folder. “It’s all the detail you’ll need to cause at least a little bit of heartburn.”
    “How’d you get it?” Jack didn’t take the folder right away.
    Ortiz shrugged. “You don’t need to know how. But it shows there’s a bit happening across the country.”
    Jack looked at the folder for a few long seconds then let out a long sigh as he grabbed it. He owed Ortiz his life. “I’ll do it. But I’m not sure it’ll work.”
    “Just do your best.” Ortiz gave a toothy smile. “It’s no fun being a passive son of a bitch anyway, is it?”
    Jack laughed at that thought for a long while as Ortiz turned and walked away. As his friend disappeared into the crowd, Jack mused that if he had any sense in the world, he’d keep within the boundaries – as he had for the last few months – and toss the folder in the nearest bin. But Jack Emery wasn’t known for his sense. It’s why he kept getting dragged into warzones and conspiracies.
    ***
    One watched through her binoculars like a patient hunter stalking prey. At this late hour, the FEMA distribution center was quiet. They’d watched it all day and it had been a hive of activity, with trucks coming and going. At night, however, there was little except silence and shadows. Just the way she liked it. She smiled as she swept her gaze across the entire facility one last time. A chain-link fence topped with razor wire surrounded the facility, which was lit up by floodlights. The only way in – or out – was through one of three gates, each guarded by a pair of armed State Guard troopers. Inside the facility, another handful of security personnel strolled around with no particular routine.
    She lowered the binoculars with a smile. The security looked tough, but she knew better. For such a critical facility, it had some of the slackest security she’d ever seen. This would be easier than taking on the student police at MIT – the easiest job she’d had in months. She looked to her left. Three other members of her team were prone in the dirt, alert for any threat and ready for action. Positioned further away, on either side of the base and out of sight, Five and Six would provide sniper support. She smiled. Though it was a pleasure to command them, dealing with such talented people made her feel a little bit redundant sometimes.
    “Everyone, confirm ready.”
    It took only a second for confirmations to come in over her earpiece.
    “Okay, cut it.”
    The floodlights cut out instantly. Though from this distance she couldn’t hear the inevitable alarmed shouts from the security, she could imagine the carnage. Within moments a few tiny pinpricks of light started to illuminate the darkness as the security turned on their flashlights – a poor substitute for the floodlights’ angry yellow illumination.
    One lowered the goggles that had been resting on her head, taking a second to adjust to the night vision before giving the order to proceed. One and her team moved low and fast