New America 02 - Resistance by Richard Stephenson Read Free Book Online Page A

destruction they would unleash would not only further cripple the infrastructure of the country, but it would also deface a national icon, a symbol recognized in every corner of the land.  Kaliz’s men were not aware of the entire operation; they had no idea they were only one half of the plan.  Another cell leader would execute the same scheme from the opposite end of the bridge.
    Kaliz’s two-year stint in the i nfantry had been part of this covert operation.  He used his military connections to smuggle the equipment he needed for his plan.  He managed to steal a dozen grenades, assorted weapons and ammunition, and the grand prize – a case of C-4 plastic explosives.  His counterpart on the other team had managed to do the same. Kaliz had manipulated and bribed many people to acquire the items and had even killed two men to do so.  He was meticulous in his planning and was never a suspect in any of the thefts or murders.
    The truck travel ed south down the 101 and waited patiently in line at the checkpoint to the Golden Gate Bridge.  With much of the interstate highway system in ruins on the other side of the country, Regional Governor Jimenez closely guarded critical bridges and freeway intersections in his territory.  The Golden Gate Bridge had a platoon of soldiers at both ends.  Every vehicle was stopped; the driver and occupants required to show identification in order to pass.  For the initial six months after The Day of Judgment, every vehicle was thoroughly searched.  The process took hours; angry citizens had to add at least two hours to any trip that required transit across the bridge.  Kaliz simply bided his time, waiting for complacency to kick in.  Slowly but surely, the thorough searches became less and less diligent.  Without a single incident on The Golden Gate Bridge in eighteen months, the soldiers began to relax.  They saw the same familiar faces day after day and recognized the same cars traversing the bridge.  Kaliz’s only purpose for driving back and forth across the bridge every day was to bolster his position as a regular to the soldiers guarding the bridge.  At first, his truck was searched five days a week, both coming and going.  As the months passed, five days became four, then three until it become once a week, if ever.  Kaliz became so familiar with the guards that when he pulled up to the checkpoint, he would roll down his window with his driver’s license in hand and the soldiers would simply wave him through without even stopping him.
    T oday was a day like any other. He pulled up to the checkpoint and produced his driver’s license.  The young soldier waved him through and Kaliz drove on.  When he was two car lengths past the checkpoint, he stopped the truck and got out.  His partner in the front seat exited with him.
    “Marco!  What are you doing?  Keep it moving man!  C’mon!”  The young soldier was visibly frustra ted by the delay.
    “So sorry, Private Morris, the engine died on me,” said Kaliz in his polished Spanish accent.
    “Try to get it in the other lane quickly. I gotta keep the line moving.”
    “Yes, of course . So sorry about this.”
    Kaliz glanced into the back seat and waved his men out of the truck.  His team members stood at the back of the truck, pushing as Kaliz steered the vehicle.  Once the truck was blocking all the lanes, Kaliz put the vehicle in park and unzipped his jacket so he could quickly access his tactical vest. The others retrieved their bags from the truck bed and did the same.
    “Marco!  What the hell, man?  Rush hour’s coming and I don’t need this shit!”
    Kaliz and his team took their time getting ready.  Nothing about their movements aroused suspicion, only frustrated confusion from the soldiers at the check point.  Once his team members stopped and made eye contact with him to signal their readiness, Kaliz nodded his head and the attack began.
    Each man dropped the spoon on his grenade and lobbed it