Indian Territory Read online

  “Yes, father, the seatbelt hurt me some, but I am all right.”

  Daniel’s seatbelt had, indeed, kept him secure. He quickly began working to free himself from the restraint when both he and his father felt the rear of the car begin to shift to the left.

  Julius pressed on the brake in an attempt to halt the slide, but only succeeded in slowing the progression in the soft spring earth of the forest.

  “QUICK! DANIEL, GET OUT OF THE CAR!” shouted his father as he continued to fight the inevitable drift toward a steep seven-hundred-foot drop to the valley floor below.

  Daniel immediately followed his father’s order and managed to get out through the open rear window as the collision with the tree had jammed the car's doors.

  “HURRY, DANIEL! HURRY!” shouted his father as the car began to increase the speed of its slide.

  In Julius’s efforts to halt the car’s movement toward the driver’s left, he had failed to unhook his own seatbelt and as he took his foot off the brake, he tried to quickly move to the passenger’s side of the car to exit the vehicle, away from the direction of the slide.

  The uncaring seatbelt felt no remorse at trapping Daniel’s father in the driver’s seat. As Julius frantically worked to unhook the belt, the car continued the ever increasing speed of its drift to the left.

  Daniel managed to climb back up to the road surface and turned, expecting to see his father just behind him. Instead, he saw the car continue its slide to the driver’s side. Even though the forest’s deep shadows attempted to obscure the inevitable slide down the mountain, Daniel was able to witness the struggle of his father as he fought to free himself.

  As the terror of the situation sank in, Daniel screamed for his father to hurry as tears began to fill his eyes leaving trails of wet streaks. His tears, which soon became wrenching and uncontrollable sobs.

  Julius did finally manage to free himself from the seatbelt but was unable to quickly climb over the body of his wife. The angled position of her head and neck left no doubt that Dawn was beyond any conceivable help. Abruptly, the car fell away from the tree and again began picking up speed as gravity took control as it began to again careen down the mountain toward the sheer cliff wall. Suddenly, the car slammed into another pine tree anchored in the soft earth of the forest floor. The old Ford uprooted the tree and came to rest, straddling the fallen tree. The car now came to rest with the rear of the vehicle cantilevered to the right.

  “HURRY, FATHER! HURRY!” shouted Daniel from above.

  Julius had been badly knocked around, and he broke a left side rib. Daniel’s father was now in horrendous pain, but still conscious. Gritting his teeth, Julius continued his efforts to crawl over Dawn’s broken body in his effort to reach safety through the open window and away from his car. In his panic, Julius had failed to realize that the car’s rear had been pushed around to the passenger’s side. He felt the tree trunk begin to give way and initiate a slow movement as the last of the old pine's roots surrendered to the weight of the car as it was now fully under the pull of gravity. The tree trunk soon became a sled and began to edge ever closer to the near vertical drop, now just a few feet away. As Julius’s head and shoulders cleared the window, he felt the tree slam mercilessly into an automobile-sized boulder protruding from the ground. This impact caused him to cry out in pain as his upper left arm was broken from the jolt with the window frame. The car and its sled then began to rapidly pick up speed as they now began moving to the right, trapping Julius in the car. The tree trunk slid sideways toward the passenger’s side until it was moving horizontally toward the ledge. Julius Two-Dogs Townsend could only watch in terror as the car and tree trunk slid over the cliff face and began the long fall down the mountain and into the dry stream bed below. His last thought was, dear God, please take care of Daniel. Upon impact, the car exploded and burst into flame.

  Eight-year-old Daniel sat screaming for his mother and father as he knelt on the ground sobbing and inconsolable.

  Within the span of only another moment, a small pickup truck came into view. The driver and his wife saw Daniel kneeling and screaming down the mountain. The driver stopped his truck, and both ran to Daniel’s side. They could clearly see the burning vehicle at the bottom of the mountain as it lay on its top astride a dry Arizona gulch.

  Eva Saint wrapped her arms around Daniel as he fought to free himself in an effort to get to his mother and father.

  “LET ME GO! LET ME GO!” shouted Daniel as Mrs. Saint held him tightly to her body and kept speaking softly in a soothing sing-song voice.

  Mr. Saint immediately called 9-1-1 and reported the accident. A Police Officer, an Ambulance, and a Fire Truck were dispatched to the scene.

  The Rez

  The green-eyed Shaman, or Medicine Man, Taza Geronimo suddenly felt uneasy as he crossed the room to sit in his favorite chair. He had just come home from a Tribal Meeting and began to wait patiently for the arrival of his Grandson Daniel when he felt a disturbance in his soul. Something was not right, and he feared the worst. Still, there was nothing he could do, so he sat and waited for the sad news that he knew must be coming.

  One hour later

  The Rez

  The Tribal Police car came to a stop in front of Mr. Taza Geronimo’s modest home. After hearing the bell, the Medicine Man arose from his chair and opened the door. His blood began to run cold as he saw the Tribal Police Officer. Though his words were framed as a question, his tone implied a statement of dread. He asked, “Yes, what has happened to my daughter and grandson?”

  On the Rez, Geronimo was a respected Medicine Man. His Sweat Lodge visions always seemed to be accurate, yet he had not seen this horror.

  “Sir,” said the deferential Police Officer, “I am afraid that I must inform you that your daughter and son-in-law have been killed in an apparent auto accident near Jerome.”

  “And my grandson, Daniel?” asked a stricken Geronimo.

  “Yes, sir, I am pleased to tell you that your grandson is fine. He is currently at the Yavapai Regional Medical Center where he is being treated for several small cuts and abrasions received while climbing up the hill to the road following the accident.

  If you would please come with me, I will take you to him,” suggested the Tribal Police Officer.

  Yavapai Regional Medical Center

  Taza Geronimo was taken to his grandson’s hospital room. The Dr. told Taza that he would like to keep Daniel overnight for observation.

  The Medicine Man looked at Daniel’s cuts and bruises. He ran his hands over the boy’s body joints before turning to the Dr. and saying, “Doctor, my grandson will accompany me to my home where I will see to his injuries. Please arrange to sign him out, now.”

  With a hint of derisive arrogance, Dr. Hanson looked at Geronimo and said, “Sir, as his physician, I believe that the young man should stay the night. You may retrieve him tomorrow, barring any unseen circumstances.”

  The Medicine Man’s green eyes changed as they took on a gray, steely gaze, as he said, “Daniel, it is time for us to go.” He then turned to the Tribal Police Officer and directed him to explain the fact that the hospital, and the city of Prescott, in toto, sits on tribal land.

  The Officer then instructed the Dr. to arrange for the release of Daniel Two-Dogs. Any paperwork would be submitted to the Tribal Council of Elders, along with any objections the Dr. might have.

  Dr. Hanson sputtered for a few seconds before backing down and arranged for Daniel’s release from the hospital.

  Together, Taza Geronimo and his Grandson, Daniel Two-Dogs walked to the Police Cruiser. Once both were in the back seat and alone, Daniel leapt into his grandfather’s arms and began to softly cry.

  Several minutes later the Police Officer, having given his two charges some time alone, opened the car door and asked if it was all right to take them home.

  Over the following week, Tribal lawyers met with the appropriate Judge and arranged for Taza Geronimo to gain full custody of young Daniel
.

  Throughout the next eight years, Daniel’s education was provided by highly qualified professional tutors involving an internet curriculum geared for University. Just as important was the education at the hand of the Shaman, Taza Geronimo who saw to it that Daniel not only knew the history of his people, but that he also would learn to live as an Apache Warrior.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Say What?

  8 May 03

  Two-Dogs Ranch,

  Verde Valley, AZ

  In year 03, the Verde Valley experienced a renewed population boom and became the hub for trade in the Central Highlands of Arizona. The Tribal Council decided that the town would be renamed, Taza and it quickly became the defacto Capitol of The People.

  It quickly became apparent to Chief Daniel Two-Dogs, leader of the differing tribes inhabiting the hundred miles from the center of Taza. No, this was not a nation founded by one Tribal Group, this was a Confederation of the many tribes. The Tribal Council decided that a motto would be in order. It was decided that it would be the same as the old U.S. motto, from many, one. Though many harbored ill feelings toward the United States, none could deny that this phrase perfectly described The People’s Confederation.

  Daniel’s days were busy as he and his University-trained staff continued to lay the foundation for government.

  As year 03 progressed, it became obvious that many of The People, both young and old were returning to the old ways, the ways before the White Eyes ravaged the land, water, and skies.

  This return to earlier times, however, did not sit particularly well with most of the women of the tribes, and few were willing to return to what they called a primitive existence.

  Daniel was not sure the old ways had a future, but he found it interesting to watch.

  The ambush site just north of New River was complete in every way, short of being fully manned. Lookouts were posted some ten miles down the mountain to keep watch for the enemy they knew must come.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  LOS ZETA’S

  12 May 03, 0300

  Merc Forward Encampment

  I-10 East of Ft Bliss

  A full moon illuminated the cold camp of the merc element traveling to Fort Bliss in a comforting twilight called a bomber’s moon. The night temperatures dropped to twenty-eight degrees Fahrenheit, only to be enhanced by a moderate breeze that was bearing down from almost due north.

  The mercs were professional soldiers of fortune, but they had become lax in their deployments as there were seldom any living human beings anywhere near them. This night was likely to be no exception as the sixteen men decided they were safe enough to forego the normal nightly routine of perimeter security. By 2200 Hours, they were hunkered down in their sleeping bags in the back of the trucks, sound asleep.

  A scouting party of the Zeta Drug Cartel had spotted the Knights as they passed the Zee’s position. They followed at a safe distance and approached the encampment with extreme caution to avoid arousing the mercs.

  The Zeta Drug Cartel was originally created as an elite Mexican Army unit to fight drug cartels. In fact, in 1995 they had been trained by the U.S. 7th Special Forces at Fort Bragg. They were given map reading courses, communications, standard special forces training, light to heavy weapons, machine guns, and other automatic weapons. The Mexican personnel who received the US training that later morphed into the Zetas came from the Airmobile Special Forces Group (GAFE), which is considered an elite division of the Mexican Army. Once they returned to Mexico, however, they decided that running drugs was more profitable than destroying them. As a result, the Zetas morphed into one of the most savagely dangerous and feared Drug Cartels in Mexico.

  In 1995 the Zetas were a truly elite fighting force, but that was many years ago, now they were just a brutally savage gang of murderers and drug runners.

  In the Spring of aught three, the Zetas decided to invade Texas and create their own nation, Zetaland. Of course, they could have easily carved out a Kingdom in Mexico, but things were so bad there that the Zetas would be starting with nothing. How does one grow rich by stealing from a population that has nothing worth taking? At least in the States, there was an infrastructure to build upon.

  “Miguel,” whispered the Patrol Leader, Lorenzo Francisco, “I think we do not need to call for help. These fools are sleeping in their trockas, and they make no effort at security. I think the four of us can handle these gringos. This is the country of Zetaland, and they did not pay the toll, so now they must pay the price for this insult to our sovereignty.

  Philippe, you and Hernando, take the last trocka, Miguel and I will take the first one. Shoot them all when I open fire. Comprende, amigos?”

  “Sí, Sargento, no hay problema,” replied the soldiers of Zetaland.

  “All right, then, let’s do this.”

  Quietly the four Zetas slipped to the side of both trucks. The Zeta Sergeant aimed his combat rifle at the truck bed and opened fire. His men immediately followed suit and fired into the truck beds killing the entire merc detachment in just seconds.

  The Zetas then dragged each body out of the truck beds and onto the road. The Zees always leave a calling card to induce fear into their enemies. Using their standard modus operandi, they severed the heads, hands, and feet from each body and placed them on the road facing back the way they had come. The extracted extremities were then placed neatly, heads, hands, and feet where they would be seen by anyone traveling west on I-10.

  The bodies were left on the ground where they had been beheaded. Then, taking the trucks, the patrol returned to their command post on Fort Bliss.

  12 May 03, 1000

  ROA Convoy

  I-10 East of Ft Bliss

  In the ROA convoy’s point vehicle, Sergeant Bertram Roberts sat in the passenger’s seat of the old Willy’s Jeep trying to steady the binoculars to, hopefully, find some trace of the Black Knights along the flat desert horizon. Roberts’ hope of spotting the mercs was unwise as he failed to notice any sign of the possibility of running over a land mine. His lack of attention to the immediate front of the jeep spelled disaster for both him, his driver, and the Point Jeep as it ran over an anti-tank pressure mine at precisely 1007 Hours on 12 May. The resulting explosion lifted the Jeep twenty feet into the air. The vehicle returned to earth in many pieces. This mine, intended to destroy a seventy-two-ton tank, was so intense that only a few parts of the three occupants were able to be recovered for burial.

  Levi called a halt to the race to Fort Bliss, while the ROA Brain Trust met to investigate the explosion and to decide on how to proceed.

  Levi said, “That rotten bastard has changed the game once again. It is now obvious that we can no longer race along I-10 in our effort to catch up with the Knights.”

  “Yes, sir, I agree,” said Gus, “we must check every inch of the road which will cause our movement to be at a snail’s pace while the Knights run at top speed. At that rate, we will only be able to follow them by the swath they cut through any settlements, of course, I doubt there will be many such settlements in this desert.”

  The Sergeant Major added, “Sir, we don’t have a choice, we must proceed. If we keep at it, we will eventually find them. I don’t know how many mines they could possibly have, but I think I know where they got them, and how to find out how many he does have, along with what else they may have found.”

  The Sergeant Major paused, causing Levi to make a come on, spill it hand movement.

  “Yes, sir, back a ways, just north of San Antone there is an army depot for munitions. It’s called Camp Stanley. I bet that mine came from there, and if they took landmines, they might have taken other things, too. Sir, I suggest we fly a team back to Stanley and see if anything is missing.”

  “Great idea,” said Levi, “Ben, I’d like you to honcho that mission. When can you depart?”

  “Yes sir, of course,” said Ben, “I can depart just as soon as Colonel Levins can wind up a Huey. Turning to the Troop Commander, Ben sa
id, “Cap’n, please get a Sergeant and a four-man detail of your ammo troopers, and have them meet me at the Helipad soonest, Roger?”

  “Gotcha, sir. General, if you will excuse me, I’ll get that detail together for Colonel Smith.”

  “Yes, let’s get to it. Thank you, Captain.”

  The discussion then centered on how to identify any additional mines down the road. Everyone agreed that it was highly likely that the Knights had also planted anti-personnel mines near each anti-tank mine.

  “So,” said Levi, “what do we know? There are landmines in our path. Our enemy is headed west, probably all the way to San Diego, although they could take I-17 north out of Phoenix and head toward the Prescott Basin, but who knows?”

  After a thoughtful few seconds, General Levins said, “Gentlemen, I think we should search for an alternate route that will enable us to abandon the I-10. Let’s go over to the map and see what we can find.”

  The three men walked the few steps to the front of the trailer/TOC, and Levi proceeded to run his finger along the I-10 to their location just north of Boerne.

  “Right here, my friends, the answer is right here at Boerne. If we go back, just a couple of miles, we can take Route 48, and that will take Steiner’s landmines out of play. Hopefully, we’ll then be able to make a bit more respectable time. Yeah, I know we’ll have to backtrack for two or three miles, but better we do that than lose more troopers to those freakin’ mines.

  I just wish there was something we could do about those mines, other than someone driving over them, but it’s just not in the cards,” said a solemn sounding Levi.

  “Sergeant Major; get Jonesy to find Susan. We’ll have her dispatch a Snake to recon this route.”

  “Roger, sir, I’m on it.

  JONESY!” shouted the Sergeant Major.