FEBRUARY 5, 2026

Walker, Wilcox, Prescott, Washington, and Jim moved on after a couple days of rest. The other Ragtags elected to stay in St. George, as it was relatively stable and safe. Both Prescott and Washington were as interested as Walker in finding the resistance cell near Bryce Canyon. They were, as they put it, “ready to get back into the fight.” What had happened in Las Vegas convinced them they had never emotionally retired from the army.

The quintet bicycled north on I-15, passing Zion National Park, until they reached Cedar City, which took most of one day. Now armed with camping gear picked up in St. George, sleeping outdoors was more comfortable. The weather was much cooler than it had been in the deserts of Nevada and Arizona. While the landscape was still arid and rocky, the altitude was higher. The roads were also surrounded by the Dixie National Forest, which cooled things down considerably. Thus, the team was forced to dress more warmly, especially at night.

The cyclers turned east on Highway 14, which wound through a thicker section of the forest. By this time, a year after the EMP, less abandoned automobiles dotted the roads, allowing a clear, obstructionless passage. Walker considered this was possibly because they were in open country rather than near big cities. And it was beautiful country—Walker had never been in Utah before; it was stunning.

After another night in the forest, the Ragtags turned north on Highway 89 toward Bryce Canyon National Park. Here in the rocky wilderness, Walker could imagine that America had never been invaded, that there was no such thing as electricity for the EMP to snuff out, and that all was well with the world. But his idyllic daydreams were interrupted when they passed through a small deserted town by the name of Hatch. On the road ahead, just outside the village, were a couple of military Humvees and several men carrying weapons. Prescott didn’t like the way the outfit was moving slowly in their direction, as if they were looking for someone or something.

The Ragtags quietly moved their bicycles off the highway and hid in the trees.

“I can’t tell if they’re Korean or not,” Jim whispered.

“We’ll know when they get closer,” Walker replied.

The Humvees drove at ten or fifteen miles per hour. The men kept moving on and off the road, their weapons pointed into the trees. It wasn’t long, though, before the Ragtags could see that they weren’t Korean. The men were dressed in a patchwork collection of military uniforms—some from the Army, some from the National Guard, some from the Marines. Others wore police uniforms. A few were in civilian clothes. They all carried guns of various types.

“This is a resistance cell, folks,” Walker announced. “I believe these boys are on our side!”

He stood and waved, making his presence known, and the others quickly joined him. The soldiers swung their rifles toward the Ragtags, but Walker called out, “Hey, we’re Americans!” The men lowered their guns, waved, and moved forward. The two parties met in the middle of the road and shook hands. Walker and his team introduced themselves.

A tall and beefy blond soldier dressed in a Marine outfit appeared to be the man in charge. “I’m Weimar,” he said, pronouncing the “W” as a “V.” “Where are you folks headed?”

“We’re looking for you, I think,” Walker answered. “We heard there was a resistance cell operating near Bryce Canyon. Would that be you?”

Weimar smiled. “We’re part of it. We’re on a routine patrol. We had intel that the enemy was close by, placing surveillance equipment along the roads. They’re looking for us, too. So we’ve spent the last two days hunting for it, hoping to take it out before they figure out where our base is located.”

A man coughed loudly from inside one of the Humvees. Walker couldn’t help but look over Weimar’s shoulder. “I know that cough,” he said. “Is that—?”

The Humvee door opened and out stepped—

“Wally!” Walker rushed to him and gave Sergeant Kopple a big bear hug.

“Walker, you son-of-a-gun! You mean you haven’t gotten yourself killed yet?”

“Not on your life, mister! Everything you taught me has paid off so far.”

“I was worried about you when I heard about Vegas.”

“I was there, man.” He turned to his mates. “But we got out okay. We were a few of the lucky ones. Let me introduce you. You remember Kelsie?”

Kopple gave Wilcox a bigger hug and a sloppy kiss. Introductions were made all around, and the other men in the cell came forward to shake hands.

“Weimar,” Kopple said, “let’s take these folks back to the Dome and let them meet Nguyen. I think we’re about done on this road, right?”

The blond nodded.

“We have bikes,” Walker said. “Give us a sec and we’ll go get ’em.”

The Ragtags retrieved their bicycles and joined the unit as they headed up Highway 89 and turned right on Highway 12.

Kopple walked alongside Walker and Wilcox as they cycled slowly. “The Dome is that hardened complex we were talking about back when we met up with you in California,” he said. “We were right. It was a great little resistance cell. A Vietnamese fellow’s in charge. Do you know about the Vietnamese coming over to help us?”

Walker shook his head. “What? No.”

“It’s true. Isn’t that a piece of irony? When Vietnam joined the Korean alliance, a lot of resistance fighters came over here to help the American effort. They arrived last fall and spread out all over the country to join existing cells or organize new ones. Our guy is Nguyen Huu Giap. His great uncle was the famous Viet Cong general, Vo Nguyen Giap, who gave our American boys a whole lotta shit over there during the Vietnam War.”

“Really?”

“Nguyen is a brilliant tactics guy.” He coughed and spat red and brown phlegm.

“Jesus, Wally, that looks awful.”

“It’s the big C. But I’m still standing.”

Walker noted the sergeant’s QBZ-03. “I see you still have that Chinese gun.”

“It’s done pretty good by me so far.”

“How many guys do you have in the cell?”

Kopple shook his head. “Now only about twelve. Well, seventeen with you guys joining up. We did have thirty! We got into a big firefight with the Koreans last week on this very road. They know we’re around here, but the Dome is well hidden and camouflaged. The bastards won that fight, wiped out more than half our guys, including Captain Hennings. But we’ve been contacted by another cell operating in Montrose, Colorado. We’re about to head out and join up with them.”

When they reached the edge of the forest, before the trees thinned out to rocky, barren land near the national park entrance, the team stopped while two men removed what appeared to be a natural barrier in the trees on the north side of the road. It was a gate fashioned out of branches and foliage that was cleverly tied together. Walker would never have known it was there. Once the way was clear, the Humvees and men turned into the forest and the men replaced the barrier. They traveled another mile on a man-made path and came to the Dome, which was a concrete and steel “bubble” built into the ground and painted with camouflage. A bomb shelter iron door gained entrance to the facility, which was all belowground. As soon as the team arrived, the door swung open and out climbed a Vietnamese soldier dressed in the fatigues of his home country. Nguyen Huu Giap was in his thirties, was wiry and fit, and displayed a fierce, no-nonsense expression.

“Nguyen, this is my good buddy Ben Walker,” Kopple said. He continued to introduce the rest of the newcomers. Nguyen shook Walker’s hand.

“Thank you for your efforts, sir.”

“You very welcome,” the Vietnamese soldier said without smiling. “We use you. You hungry? Inside is food.”

He gestured to the iron door and started to move toward it when the shriek of an incoming missile pulled everyone’s attention to the tops of the trees. It exploded with significant force on top of the hardened Dome, but did no damage. Nevertheless, the impact knocked everyone to the ground. This was immediately followed by machine gun fire coming from the path through the forest on which the Humvees had just come.

“Fuck!” Kopple shouted. “They found us!”