The final verdict came down, news channels across the nation announced, “Kamalla Harris is officially the first female president of the United States.” Daniel slumped into his chair as he watched the numbers, it was bad enough that Pedo Biden died days before the election. Texas had gone blue, along with Arizona, Louisiana, Mississippi, Oklahoma, Alabama, and Georgia. The Republican Party had lost all representation across the country, and the United States were permanently in complete control of the Democratic Party. Daniel hadn’t had representation in his state government for years, and the rumors were true, the Democrats had taken the federal government as well.
He looked solemnly at the television, the mainly blue map surrounding a large red center. He paused then turned the power off. Pulling out his phone, he swiped the screen and looked briefly at his account balance, placing the device on its charger. Daniel secured his door, shut off a few lights, and went to bed.
Daniel awoke to a crisp inner mountain north west winter morning, starting at his bank he withdrew all the cash he had. Quickly he arrived at the first hardware store, in the cart 9 bags of rose fertilizer, 6 bags of stump remover, and 1 bag of slug repellant, paying cash and bragging about his homegrown mushrooms and pot. After he had made the same purchase at all eleven local stores, he made a quick stop at home unloading the bags into his garage, and drove off to the next city over. Before finishing he hit six more stores, picked up some plumbing supplies, and 80 ounces of silver coins.
His garage was immediately turned into a mixing station, 75% sodium nitrate, 5% sulfur, and 20% powdered charcoal. He used a ceramic bowl, with the plastic beater rolling continuously, as they reached the proper consistency each batch got dumped into a plastic 55 gallon drum. He listened to Alex Jones on podcast as he worked. It was important he kept the dust levels down and damp paper towels worked well without releasing static.
When the last bag of fertilizer was empty, a new assembly line began. The pvc pipe was then cut into 6 inch lengths, 1 cap was glued on, and each pipe was filled with the grey powder. As the tops were glued on the sides were lightly coated with epoxy and set to dry in a bowl of steel bee bees. A small hole would be drilled in each tip, and a three inch strip of cannon fuse was epoxied into it.
Daniel worked tirelessly, unlike most of the guys he planned this portion of the game with he had just ran into some money. His aunt had died overseas and while settling her estate he took it upon himself to purchase some houses around town and start renting them out. Taxes were rather high in Washington state, but every few weeks a little more money ran into his account.
Arnold looked out the peep hole of his jail cell as the officer knocked on the door, “You sobered up enough old man?”
“Yeah” he replied, a crooked smile dropped across his face.
“Care for a talk?”
This puzzled Arnold, usually the police wouldn’t bother arresting him, now this cop wanted to talk, “Sure, I guess.”
The cell opened, the guard entered and sat on the bench next to him. “Who did you vote for last election?”
“Do you think he did a good job?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“You served, I saw your record.”
“Don’t mean much”
“Sergeant Arnold sir, did you swear an oath to the politicians or to the constitution?”
“I swore to uphold the constitution.” He sat upright, pride started to form in his voice.
“Do you believe the founding fathers gave us the right to correct the government?” The two shared a blank stare, “I mean, do you believe the government should fear the people the way that Jefferson claimed they should?”
“Get to the point.” Arnold stood up and faced the polished metal square that was supposed to work as a mirror.
“Sir, what I am asking is if you trained rebels in Afghanistan?”
He slowly turned back to the officer, looking at his hands, “Of course I did.”
“Then would you do that here?”
He stared intently, the officer’s demeanor did not change, “Are you being serious, or is this some ploy to get me locked up for the rest of my life?”
The officer withdrew a red covered book from his uniform and handed it to him, “No ploy, no trick. We saved some money up and purchased some property up in the hills. It’s yours if you’re willing to train some men. Even if this doesn’t go down like the book claims, a well-trained group can make some serious cash, private armies are a thing now.”
“You are a decorated war veteran with special forces training. You don’t belong in a tent on under some disease infested bridge. Even if this doesn’t go down, you deserve a life worth living.”
“What if I’m just a drunk?”
“Would you drink instead of keeping your oath?”
He stopped, remembering those words, the men who stood next to him, the ones that he watched die, recollections of the firefights, “No guarantees.”
“No rules in love and war,” the officer stood up, “You ready?”
He slid the red book into his shirt, “I guess.” And the two started down the hall.
During the walk the officer continued, “Everything from your campsite is already on site, we respected your belongings. We are going to bus some guys up to you every few days, if you know any one down in tent city that will be of use gather them up, we will find them transportation. There are one group of barracks onsite, a volunteer construction crew will be up in about a week to set up more as needed. The armory is stocked, and we will be bringing more as needed. Our group is organized up the coast, funds and supplies should be coming in regularly. One of the structures on the property has been set up with computers and printers, this is your control room. We have a tech savvy guy already there. I suggest you read the book and he will get any information you need. I have personally found you a small nursing staff, I understand the conditions people will have coming off drugs and sobering up. Read that book, and I will be heading out there in a few days.” The two turned into a room, on the table sat a small hand bag. The officer reached into the bag and produced a set of car keys and a cell phone handing them to Arnold, “The black extended van in the corner lot is yours, the roads to the property are marked clearly on the map, and this phone is yours, the number is written on the back. Store room is stocked, sorry there isn’t a cook.” From his shirt pocket he produced a credit card, “This debit card is also yours, as you request funds for supplies we will try our hardest to transfer funds to it, I think there is around three thousand on it now, pin is 6969.”
“Yes sir Sergeant.”
They exited the room and walked down the stairs, the officer opened a door and the California sun shined brightly in. “I’ll read your book.”
The officer reached down, shook his hand saying only, “Good luck” then held the door open for Arnold to exit.
The van was in the corner just as promised, Arnold looked over the map and threw it on the dash. He started it up and drove down to his old camp. He got out and walked down the road, Smiley was a gentle older black man that camped in an ally around the corner. “Hey Marine, you want to try something different?”
Smiley slid out from his tent, “Sergeant, what you doin’ here? Po Po came down and cleared up all your stuff last night, I figured you fer dead.”
He reached down and helped Smiley up, “I got a project to do, and I need me a good man or two.”
“Project? You’re as down and out as I am, what kind o project could you be for going on about?”
“That was yesterday, today I have a mission and I think you can help.”
“You off your rocker, what kind of mission would a bum like you cook up?”
“I actually was asked to train a mercenary group. The ones asking me to do this set us up with a place to live and food. I just want to know if you’re still sharp enough to put yourself together.”
“I’m as sharp as you.”
“Then get your crap packed in that van”
“Do you see the van?”
“Food, but is there going to be beer?”
“No drinking while we train, you remember the rules.”
“Well I’m not sure I am bout to follow them there rules.”
“The choice is yours marine, but ask yourself, is laying out here what you want or do you want one more chance to uphold your oath.”
Smiley stood erect, his face got serious, he handed a solute, “Yes sir, I’m in”
“I will meet you in the van.” Smiley turned and started gathering his belongings, Arnold continued down the block and crossed the street. On the corner stood Bill flying his sign, the two greeted with a handshake. “You willing to work for food now?”
“Then get your crap together and go meet Smiley at that black van.”
“Just day labor?”
“Nope, something more serious and long term.” He paused, “You know anyone else around your age that isn’t afraid of guns Bill?”
“Yeah, you said you wouldn’t join the military but wanted to be a mercenary, I got hired to train mercenaries. Know anyone else that would be interested?”
Bill dropped his cardboard sign, “Yeah, actually yeah, God said we should start our own army and…” he was excited, but Arnold had to cut him off.
“Bill, I’m sorry, maybe I was wrong to ask..”
Bill knew emedialty why Arnold had changed tones, “No wait, God is his name out here, it’s actually his initials, not God like the guy in heaven, God as in Gerald Oswald Dean.” Arnold loosened up in understanding, “Yeah, we used to hang out, about five of them all wanted to set up a mercenary group and stuff but those things cost money.”
“He’s not a mental case is he?”
“No, I think he couldn’t enlist because of drug charges or something like that.”
“Well grab you crap and ride upfront with me, I’ll meet you at that black van.” Arnold pointed down the street and Bill started heading off. Down the street and around the corner Arnold stopped at another tent, “Breznev.”
“Yeah, what do you want?”
“I want you to grab your gear and head out with me.”
“Yankee Doodle man, what would you want of me?”
“I got a place for you to eat, sleep, shit, and shoot.”
The tarp door slid back, and an oversized man leaned out, “Did you say shoot?”
“If that’s all you heard, than yes, shoot.”
“You Mericans are funny, why you play joke on me?”
“I’m not joking, this isn’t a joke, and you don’t belong here on the streets. I came to offer you a chance to use your skills.”
“I’ve not used my skills since avtoritet sold out to Mexicana” he climbed out of the tent, towering over Arnold, “You say I can use my skills?”
“You are the most qualified man I know. I’m offering you food, shelter, and some time on the range.”
“Let me get my things Yankee Doodle man, I feel I trust you but don’t care anymore if I can’t” the two walked down the street and climbed in the van.
Arnold looked at Bill, “So where too?”
“Down by the interstate bridge” and with that they were off. The four talked back and forth, on the streets everyone knew of each other, and sometimes they would talk. At the bridge five more joined, and they started off down the road with the map.
Arnold noticed where they were heading and piped up, “Hey there is a store up ahead, why don’t we all stop in and get some fresh cloths and new boots.” The four agreed and massed into a Cabelas. It took about twenty minutes to get out of town and into the valley, another twenty to get to the destination.
What they came across looked like a movie set, to the left were two long barracks, and in front of them three small houses, one had a military tent training off to the side with pick nick style tables set up under it. The house with the tent attached had two doors, and from the one marked with a white cross in a red circle a woman stepped out and waved them over.
As the nine men approached her, she walked up to Arnold shaking his hand then stepped back and announced, “Take whatever room you can find in the barracks, all the bedding is clean, there are foot lockers and storage under the floor boards. Laundry and shower facilities are on each end of the barracks, please feel free to use them. After you have cleaned up, please come by the nurses’ station so we can get you assessed, and see if we need to order any supplies. After that we will all get together for a nice dinner.” She stopped and looked at Arnold, “Your room is over there, second floor,” she gestured with her hand.
“If you don’t mind, mam, I will be bunking with my men for now” he injected.
“Your call.” She stated and the group dispersed.
When they entered the barracks they discovered rows of bunk beds, and about twelve of them were already occupied. They rose and introduced themselves. It seems they had all read the book the officer had given Arnold, and they had heard some pretty impressive things about their sergeant. Once they had all stashed their stuff, they showered and adorned their new cloths. One at a time they entered the nurses’ station, the process was both a record keeping and treatment center visit.
Arnold was called aside afterword. “You realize a few of those kids are going to be getting pretty sick, they are strung out.”
“Well call them over away from the group, I don’t want to talk to them with every one over hearing, we will see what they want.”
“You had to deal with this before?”
“Yeah, we trained some groups over in Afghanistan, Opium is a problem in the region.”
“Then you have more experience than I, just let me know how I can help.”
“Come with me then, we will figure it out together.” He walked toward the last house, and stood in front of the doorway, three of the guys from under the bridge, Bill, and one man that was already in the bunk walked over with the nurse.
Arnold addressed them, “Look guys, you’re all here talking to me because we have to take care of an issue you all share. You need to know I don’t look down at addicts, I’ve had my own struggles. But, we need to make one thing clear, now that you are here every grain of that stuff needs to be turned in, tonight to this nurse. You won’t be allowed to stay if you’re strung out, it’s dangerous to everyone else. You also need to decide how you’re going to come down. Are you going to sweat, puke, and convulse for a week in a bunk or are you going to wean off slowly using methadone? Either way, the choice is yours.”
“Then why give us the choice?” Bill asked.
“Because, I won’t be training any one on methadone until they are off, and that takes months.” The group murmured, and in agreement they stated they would all go off cold turnkey. “Is that okay with you nurse?”
“It’s Janet, and yes we can handle it.” She turned to the group, “When you start getting ill just move over to the other bunk house and we will take care of you, there are three of us and I’m sure your all willing to help each other out.” She turned to Arnold with a smile, “Thank you” and walked off.
During dinner a bus with more men arrived. By the end of the week, most of the first group of drug addicts were clean and joined in the training, the entire bunk house was filled. A medical bunk house was set up behind the three houses and two more long bunk houses were built. By the end of the month three bunks were full, the training went on into squads.
The red covered book was read by many, a group of the first recruits even returned to the tent cities to find more like minded men and women to help out with what they now called the cause. Before the election, more than twenty-five hundred men and women were filed into the compound.
Arnold, Smiley, Bill, and God had moved into the control house as long as a militia member that brought a small crew with him. Around 2 a.m. a single police cruiser arrived, he walked up to the control house being met by Arnold. “You are looking a lot better sir.”
“Yeah, feeling better as well”
“Looks like everything is going down, are all these people ready for action?”
“One thousand trained snipers, one thousand five hundred currently training. All are in it for the cause, most are militia or recovering homeless. How many have you gathered?”
“We have about six hundred committed, but we start recruiting tomorrow, over the next few weeks some of the guys will be coming up. You think you can fine tune their skills.”
“Yeah, that’s what we can do. We are a unit, every sniper I trained can train any group. We need to discuss uniforms.”
“Uniforms? I thought the idea of forth generation warfare was to not be in uniform.”
“Well, that’s all well and good, but we have a fight ahead of us, and in a firefight we need to be able to distinguish our side from their side.”
“I still don’t see…”
“Look, there are police and soldiers out there that are not part of our cause, your police are going to be dressed the same, my men here do not want to shoot you or your friends.”
“Okay, you have anything in mind?”
“Yeah, Cabelas down the road sells winter camo, I asked and they can be ordered online. White camo pants and a tan shirt. We all have them, have your men in them.”
“I get it, simple but sticks out. Most of our guys can just get those slip on ones and we will be good.”
“I’ve been researching tactics, we are looking at a march to the sea, then split up and head north and south. We have made contact with at least eight other groups, once we have a plan we will meet up with a few.”
“Yeah, this book sold a bunch, we even got a few dozen copies here.”
“I guess, and we will share the word.” They shook hands and the policeman left.
Arnold returned to the computer room, Eddie the computer guy greeted him, “Sir, we are going black.”
“Good.” The center of the room had a large table covered with maps and papers. “Bill, first thing I need you to clear out the account. We need cash, clean cut participants, maps, and good running cars. We have to go down into the farming communities and gather the supplies we need.”
“Yes sir.” He grabbed the card and headed upstairs.
Arnold continued, “Smiley, God, Breznev, 0700 all your team leads need to meet up in the junkie den. Get some sleep.”
The four left and returned to their bunks.
The morning meeting commenced, “Men,” Arnold began, “We look to be on track. I need you to weed out any people that might not be on board for an offensive strike.” The group all nodded in agreement, “over the next few weeks we will be handing out intelligence and assigning teams with specific missions, everyone will need to be familiar with this information.” The group all agreed and dispersed.
Jerry dropped the tattered red covered book on the coffee table and picked up the phone. “Bill did you read this thing before you handed it to me?”
“Yeah, that was the point.”
“You’re buying all this stuff? I mean it’s just a fiction book right?”
“I don’t think so man,” a long silence, “You still there?”
“Yeah, just thinking this over.”
“Hey, not much to think about, we got a group set up, I gave you that to see if you want in.”
“You already started a group?”
“Man, you know me! I didn’t start a group, I joined one. I found a chat room online discussing the book.”
“You trust these guys?”
“What do we have to lose?”
“Well our lives. Do you realize that we would be fighting against trained military?”
“You saw the election results, we can train you.” A few moments of silence, “I don’t know what else to tell you, just the way things are going has to change, and like really there are thousands of these groups all over the country with like millions of people.”
“I get what you are talking about, but you know I didn’t join the military for a reason.”
“Me neither, but this is important.”
“I just don’t know.”
“I’m heading out to the training grounds Friday morning and heading back Sunday, you can take Friday off work and head up with me. Take a look around, see what’s going on.”
“Bill It’s Wednesday already, I’m not quite sure I can just get Friday off.”
“It doesn’t hurt to ask.”
“Fine, I will ask…”
“Hey if not this weekend next okay.”
“Okay, I will.”
“Yeah.” He hit the red circle, plugged the phone into the charger, and went to bed. Surprisingly his boss gave him the Friday off, he agreed to a trip with Bill, and Thursday on his way home from work he picked up a cheap used 30-06 from a local pawn shop. Ammunition and a cheap scope from Wal-Mart, and the thing looked good to go before bed. Lucky for Jerry there were plenty of instructional videos on YouTube to learn how to clean the weapon and install the scope.
The drive out of Reno was quiet, the two spoke very little. When they arrived at the hills above spirit lake, a series of dirt roads opened to a rather out of place parking lot. This section of the mountain was forested, a cool breeze swept by. The two walked forward to a sign up station. Bill spoke up, “My friend is here for the first time.”
The lady behind the table looked up, “Who did you vote for in 2016?”
“Trump.” He stated clearly.
She looked him over, then at the cheap gun bag he carried, “That some sort of Ar-15?”
“Not at all, it’s a Springfield M1903 set up with an 8 times scope.”
A look of surprise came across, she responded, “So you took us serious, head over to the blue tent and talk with Carter.” She gestured, and the friends shook hands as Jerry went where instructed.
“Carter,” he called out as he arrived at the tent. In the crowd of at least fifty people one man approached him.
“Yeah, the lady at the table told me to head over here.”
“Your first time around here? What did you bring with you?”
“A M1903…” he started.
“How long you own it?”
“I picked it up last night.”
“Let’s see it.” He unzipped the case and handed him the gun. Carter spun the gun around like a professional, he investigated the barrel, the action, the scope. “Clean unit, a little worn, but can you shoot it?”
“I used to have a model 70, and picked this up last night because I could afford one. I need to zero in the scope, but yeah I can shoot.”
“Your hundred yard is at the end, mind yourself and come get me when you are wanting to show your skills.”
“Sure thing,” he retrieved the rifle, and felt he had zeroed it in within five shots, the instructional videos had gone a long way by now. Tracking down Carter, he presented himself.
“Okay, what’s your name son?”
“Jerry sir.” He didn’t normally call people sir, but this seemed like a military setting like you see in the movies, it just came out.
“Jerry, follow me.” They snaked through the crowd to a sand bag bunker, they climbed in. He pointed out in the distance, “Okay can you spot that blue circle way of down there through the trees?”
Jerry laid down on his stomach extending the rifle forward. He followed the man’s finger, looked down the hill seeing the faintest of a blue mark. He then leveled his scope on it, the figure of a cardboard blue man stood out. “Yeah, I see it.”
“Great, from this distance can you give me a head shot?” Jerry calmed himself, aimed carefully, and fired. When the gun dropped back down he reacquired the target in the scope. “Great, just off to the left there is another target, plain white paper, can you see it?”
Jerry slowly moved the gun, he caught some white and moved up. It was further out and barely visible, but he had it in the crosshairs. “Got it.” He stated.
“Excellent spotting job, can you give me a head shot?” he aimed, gently squeezed the trigger, and when the gun dropped he found his mark. The bullet hit the chest, Carter calmly spoke, “Give that one more try.” Jerry aimed again, raised the crosshair just above the head and pulled the trigger again, when the gun leveled he saw he hit his mark. “Well there you go Jerry, I can’t teach you nothing about shooting, figure you can outshoot most of the men I know.”
“You mean that?”
“That was an eight hundred yard shot, you pulled two kill shots at an almost impossible distance. What’s amazing is you just bought this gun.”
“My family were game hunters, I don’t do it now that I live in the city, but we always had to be good shots when we lived in Wyoming.”
“You should have joined the military.”
“Not my thing.”
“But is this your thing?”
“I don’t know yet, I’m just checking things out.”
“Well I hope you stick around, were going to be hunting Antifa in just a few months, a guy like you can offer some great cover for our guys.”
“You really think that book and everything it describes is going down?”
Carter sat down on the sandbag wall and a serious look came about him, “Jerry, we have no choice. The democrats have complete control of our country, we are outnumbered. It’s going to be no time before we can’t own guns. Do you realize how dangerous that is? Next will be our freedom of speech, and the federal government will control everything. You won’t have any rights anymore, and then they will close down our industry forcing us to work. It will be like that movie with all the districts, and only the weirdest crazies in the big cities will rule and we will just be their slaves. It’s their mode of operation and January twentieth is our only chance to change that.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Don’t you watch the news? All they care about is political control, they don’t care about you or me, they just want power. Look at L.A. all they want is power and control, you ever see them do anything for the people? They let millions sleep on the streets, but manipulate wages so the less effective in society can’t get jobs. They tax the hell out of those who do work and they use that money to fund illegal immigrants only to get votes and cheap labor. As real working people continue they lose their jobs to the people coming in and with it their ability to vote. Swarms of people simply don’t have a vote in the government, and this is our last stand.”
“I have my own life, a job, an apartment, and I don’t live in California.”
“That’s my point, now the entire country is California. No conservatives will ever have an equal role in the government. And now that Democrats control the entire federal government they will consolidate that control by mandating stricter immigration to the regions where they want more control, thus getting votes and taking over. Your job isn’t safe, neither is mine. They want us broke and poor. When they have power everything you see in California will be the federal law”
“Look I don’t like Brown either, but how the hell can we even win?”
“You read the book, we outnumber them pure and simple. We have over three thousand members here, just inside the California border there are another three or four, I heard of a group outside of L.A. that has almost ten thousand. Nationwide they estimate over six million, there are six million of us and not even a million of them capable of fighting. The book sold over ten million copies, so people are interested. Chat rooms and forums have popped up all over.”
“I’m just one guy.”
“So am I, but you are one guy that can shoot the balls off a fly and I have three hundred guys that can’t hit the broad side of a barn. I don’t care what I have to offer you, I’d pay your bills through July if I had to just to get you up here to teach others how to shoot.”
“You want me to teach shooting?”
“I’m needing an assistant, you’re good at what you do, why not?”
“You would pay my bills to teach people to shoot?”
“How much would you need?”
“I don’t know, ten grand.”
Carter reached into his jacket, withdrew a pocket book and a pen, scribble out something on the pad, and handed Jerry a check for fifteen thousand dollars. “Fair, we offer free room and board, you can head in get your stuff squared away, and grab some better supplies. We can use someone like you.”
“So what do I do about a job after all this runs out?”
“Did you like hunting as a teenager?”
“Yeah, actually I did.”
“Then you can work for me, I run an outfitters company, we travel and hunt all over the world.”
He shook the check, “You could have started with the job offer, I’m kind of tired of the city.” He stood up, “So where do I start?”
“Go take care of that check, get you bills taken care of.”
“I drove in with a friend.”
Carter withdrew some keys from his pocket handing them over, he pointed at a rather new Rangerover, “Jerry, we’ll see you tomorrow afternoon. Pick up some of those cheap scopes you got, and never buy a new rifle.” The two stood up shook hands and Jerry jumped in the Rangerover headed for home.
He woke, cashed the check, paid his rent for three months, quit his job by voicemail, and returned to the pawnshop. He found two more rifles like his, a couple decent scopes, and a laptop. He headed straight to Starbucks and started downloading every technical video he could find on every rifle he could think of, multiple videos on tactics, and a handful of online texts. Jerry found himself at three bookstores purchasing a wide range of shooting books, the bluejackets manual, and a copies of original U.S. Army guides including; survival manual, Special Forces Ops Field Manual, Booby Traps FM-31, Improvised Munitions, Sniper training and Employment, and Long-range recon patrol company.
At Wal-Mart he bought them out of the cheap 8x scopes, as well as the matching 10x ones. He grabbed some winter and desert camouflage cloths as well as cold weather gear like long johns. He packed up a few boxes of ammunition, and most important to him he located about nine solar cell phone chargers and spare of his own phone.
Once he returned to the camp Carter set him up with a small private cabin, “We share electricity off an electric generator, lights are all twelve volt and you have about enough electricity to use a laptop or small TV, cooking and heating is all propane so try and avoid cooking very much due to fumes. Settle in, I’ll be grabbing you first thing in the morning, oh and wear this around the camp.” He handed him a black military style beret with a red symbol on it.
Jerry explored the camp, learning quickly to avoid taped off sections, and finally locating the mess tent where he ate. Everyone he met was friendly, in good spirits, and carrying a gun. He finally ran into Bill, “Hey, I took a job up here.”
“What? A job? What kind of job?”
“Come on, they gave me a cabin.”
“You don’t have to sleep in a tent? Shit, you are getting the royal treatment out here, I had to walk up the mountain and sleep in a tent!”
“Yeah, you have that AR-15 and I brought up a real gun,” as they entered the cabin he handed Bill a M1903, “Here try this.”
“It looks old.”
“It is, but compare” he withdrew a shell and handed it to his friend.
“Holy shit, that’s huge!”
“Well they make bigger ones but listen up, the only part that counts is the tip. That’s a 30-06 or a .30, you’re shooting a .223. This has more powder in it and is a bigger bullet. That means it is capable of making a bigger hole and shooting longer distances.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Okay, let me put you into the field. The guys you are shooting at have guns as well, do you want to be a few hundred feet away or five or six hundred yards away?”
“Okay, I get that but this thing only fires once, then you have to pull this part back right?” he pointed at the bolt.
Jerry smiled, “Billy boy, you’re getting it. So you got that thing and you gotta be with in a hundred yards and hit your target, what five times before they fall. With this you’re further back, hiding in the brush, fire and sneak away. Hide somewhere else and repeat.”
“Like a sniper?”
“So like the ghillie suite and all?”
“Anyway, you wanna try one of these out? I have to go zero these in, new scopes and all.”
“Hell yeah!” it was dusk and the two carried five rifles to the range. One at a time he zeroed them in, one had a warped barrel and was set aside. The two shot until dark, Bill even compared the AR-15 he had on the four and five hundred yard targets.
On the way back to the cabin Bill asked, “So is there a nicer gun like this?”
“Yeah, some really nice ones actually, but you never want to buy a new one. When they are new there are burs down the barrel, and you have to fire them thirty or forty times cleaning them over and over again until they shoot straight. But the Weatherby, Browning, Remington, and Ruger are all highly sought after. I personally believe the Browning X-Bolt is the best one out there, it’s all stainless steel and needs very little field care. These old M1903s need oiled and cleaned all the time or they rust up a bit.”
“Wow, that’s why they offered you a job, you know your shit.”
“Yeah, who would have thought hunting with my parents would get me a job.” The two settled in and started reading through the Army manuals. They didn’t talk much. The morning Bill went down to the range with his team and engaged in drills, Jerry reported to his new boss.
Ben had been a regular visitor to Davis-Monthan Airforce Base for years. Most of the staff knew him by name. His visit on November seventh was a little different, six friends walked in with him and past the gate. “Morning Joe” he stated as they walked past the gate.
They moved down the main hanger and across the runway. “So, from what I understand is the world war two stuff is all not running, but these F-14 As are mostly good to go. The seats are stored in that bunker and the explosives from the ejector are removed. They fill on the wing, and the seat needs installed. Down here we have some more reasonable prop driven planes, but honestly not many of them are flight ready. I think we can get maybe ten in the air.”
“Can they be loaded with bombs is all we care about.”
“It sounds crazy, but those and maybe some old helicopters are all that we are going to find useful. I talked to a mechanic who told me most of the World War Two stuff flew in but have been dismantled.”
“So the jets work?” another man asked.
“Yeah, they should. The air force keeps them close to deployable, as a back of basically. Install a seat and fill the gas tank and you should be off.”
“So these ten bombers you think can make it over California, up the coast, then into Sacramento?” the group’s leader asked.
“Yeah, absolutely, but they are slow. Besides what’s in Sacramento?”
“An abandoned air force base right off the Nevada border. We should have control of it early enough to refuel, and reload em at least once.”
Another guy jumped in, “I don’t think the Liberals are going to bother with taking out an old air force base when the firefight starts.”
The leader stopped, “I don’t think so either, and if we can run this mission through they won’t be able to.”
Ben added, “Also when we storm in here, we can get access to the logs. If we really have two thousand men like you said then we can find which parts were taken off which planes and get some flight ready within hours. Like I said most of these flew in, just have to find out which ones and reassemble them. I gave you schematics for everything out here.”
They looked around the desert a bit before the leader spoke up, “I’m glad we met you Ben, we have guys coming in all the way from New York for a chance to fly one of these hulks. I’m pretty sure it won’t take long to get these set up.”
“Fuel will be no problem” another man added. Then the group went their separate ways exploring the planes sharing notes on their findings.
Ben was able to find most of the flight manuals online, research was one of his gifts. What he was not expecting were the odd e-mails he received only days after their visit.
“Ben, thank you for your repeated interest in our airbase over the years. I noticed you acquired some new friends on your last visit, and a few of us would like to sit down and have a talk. I believe that it would be beneficial to your cause.”
They shared a few messages back and forth, finally Ben made the plan to meet his mysterious e-mailer. He was certainly a little nervous as he walked into the diner, but immediately he saw the gate guard and one of the mechanics sitting quietly in a booth. He approached and they waved him in, “Yeah Hi.” He awkwardly broke the silence, both men smiled and one withdrew a red covered book setting it in front of him.
A fourth man, older with grey hair joined them, blocking Ben’s escape and pressing him against the window, “Evening Ben,” he stated as he pushed the book in front of him, “My name is Embry, and I’m the current base commander. We noticed you showing some guests around the other day and the lot of us discussed this. You have given us one hell of an idea.” he paused shortly looking Ben over, “well I’ll get to the chase then, how many of your friends can fly?”
“I’m not, I’m not sure sir,” he cowered into the seat.
Embry let out a chuckle, “Ben, hey calm down, you’re not understanding us, we run the base, we are not trying to stop you, we want to help. Join up in a way.”
He shuttered in surprise, then looked at the man squarely, “I really don’t know. I think we have about eighty that are training on flight simulators, only three of us have been in planes…”
The black man across from him chuckled, “I’ll tell you know them simulator programs are harder than the real thing.” The three older men laughed for a moment.
“I hope you mean that.”
“Up until the landing its easy but, your guys should be okay. I think if everything goes all right we might have some help coming.”
The mechanic smiled as he added, “Yeah kid, your friends are goin’ to be great for the smaller planes, but I think we found some experienced pilots for them jets.”
The gate guard added, “Yeah, a bunch of vets are on their way down here.”
“Well I’m just glad this isn’t a sting, so what’s the plan?”
Embry spoke up, “The way I see it is that your friends need to show up to go through some training. How soon can you get them there?”
“Tomorrow I guess.”
“You need to realize we are an active military base, and does mean we have to deal with surveillance, so I say no more than twenty people at a time, and we will bring them into the big hangers. You guys keep up practicing with your flight simulators, and we can go through a breakdown of the planes and fueling. We will need to get these planes on the tarmac, fueled, and in the air as soon as possible. I got some guys coming down in the next few weeks to help with getting ordinance, and they have offered to jump into the F-14s to supply air cover. I do still need to find three or four of you guys that can take off on a commercial aircraft though.”
The gate guard smiled wide, his deep white teeth shined in contrast to his dark skin, “Yeah, big boys, computer driven autopilot, fill them up with ordinance, program them to take out a specific target.”
Embry added, “It’s a little harder than that, what we do it take off, reset the computer with a doctored version, set the auto pilot, then bail to a glider and get back here.”
“Yeah kid,” the mechanic answered, “You don’t want to use a parachute in the dark.”
“We have to use what we have, but if we are going to get this done we are going to need to take out some larger targets, since we don’t plan on using nukes a big plane filled with black powder and aviation fuel will have to do the job” Embry added. “Look, have the first crew there at nine in the morning or so.” He stood and offered a handshake. Ben accepted, and left the diner behind him.
Ben drove directly to his contacts house, Drake was home and he discussed the plan. Ten or twenty people would need to be rounded up, and further groups would be planned from there. He didn’t sleep well with the anticipation, and morning came early, he thanked god for strong coffee and headed to the airbase.
They were herded into a large hanger, once inside they were offered metal fold up chairs in front of a large chalk board. Embry was in the front, and about twenty men stood behind him in military cloths, “Now that we are all here,” he began, “we need to discuss security. As you all know our work here can be deemed as treason, and severe criminal changes can come from this. So it is paramount that we do not discuss our work here. To put this closer to home, there are a large number of people in our government that support us, they will contact me before word gets out and I will arrange to have the mess cleaned up. We here at this base need willing pilots, and your group has been looking at our aircraft. This being said we can utilize this arrangement for the better good. If you no longer fit into the classification of an asset, you will be promptly dispatched. Do we have this understanding?”
Everyone agreed before he continued, “Good, behind me is the 355th, they will train with you one on one until they feel you can operate the aircraft you are assigned to. We have selected more than thirty vital targets up the coast, each pilot will be assigned two targets, each plane will be loaded with two loads of ordinance. This is not ideal, but we will work with what we have. You need to know right now that this base is under surveillance and there for we cannot openly train or prepare these vehicles. We will try to have some ready, but in all reality you will be required to fuel, and load your plane prior to take off.”
The crowd mumbled a minute, “We are going to attempt to do what we can with what we have. If you have access to ordinance, please get it to our group as soon as possible. We need to know what we have to load in advance of the party in order to know how to spread out the party favors. Ideally you will all be able to gather some of your own, as all that can be obtained is important. The missions will go out in flight teams, each squadron will be accompanied by at least two F14s, no this isn’t much cover but we expect very little resistance. We will also have a small group commencing strafing runs that can fill in if a firefight ensues.”
There was some chatter, but he continued, “What you need to remember is that the US air force has held a position of air superiority since world war two and it isn’t going to give up that position lightly. If the government is able to hold together, and the men are willing to fly, we will have company. Because there are no guarantees either way we have arranged for some vets to take control of an out of service air field near Sacramento, this will be your landing zone. The way we see it is if even the entire wrath of the US Military rains down on us from hell we can keep that base long enough to get you home.”
He stopped an looked around at us, I also inspected the group, to my surprise no one looked like they were shaken, he continued, “This should be simple mission, we get here, load up, fuel up, take off, bomb two locations, then land. We should have eight planes per unit, five bombers and three cover planes. The only thing odd about this is we will not be using standard communications or navigation equipment. Rudy has something a little more advanced set up, and although it’s a little sluggish for the communications, is should help us along. I will have him explain.” He raised his hand out and another older gentleman approached the chalk board carrying a black duffle bag.
He reached into the bag and retrieved what appeared to be an older cell phone, “This is what it looks like folks, it is a 1990s cell phone. They are cheap, easy to hack and modify. The units you will be handed are set up with encryption software, while using these the encryption will cause for some lag. For most of you using your flight simulators at home your current PC headset should work with these devices, I have set up half of them with a separate microphone jack, if you have them the old hands free I can really use some.” He reached back into his bag and retrieved a rather outdated laptop. “These I can use as well, has to be more than 2 giga hertz no smaller than 250 gigabyte hard drive and 500 meg of ram. I don’t care about brand as long as they are IBM compatible, that means no apple. No making fun of how they are mounted either, I’m doing the best I can here.”
He stopped and looked around, “In fact I do believe some of you are going to be installing these during your training. Now to explain how all of this works and why, each of these planes are equipped with standard aviation equipment, however to remain stealth we are going to be disabling much of it. We are going to be disabling the power in the cities bellow you so standard cell phones or GPS cannot be used. The computers can be spliced into the computers onboard satellite global positioning system, that has been altered in the planes system, but can correct the errors and give you an actual position. The cell phones have a 20 mile range and are set to bounce off each other, in theory if you have a plane every nineteen miles across the world your call should connect. To make this easy they will all be set in walky talky mode so everyone needs to keep the chatter down.”
Embry walked back over to the chalk board, “So everyone come up, grab your phone and laptop, then pair off with a pilot, they will escort you to your plane so you can get this equipment mounted and ready to go. You will be taking it home and caring for it for the next few months. We gather here for final roll call 0300 January the twentieth. For many of the other groups we are a first strike unit, they will not head out until we have started our assault. Dismissed.”
Everyone stood up and walked to the bag retrieving their older cell phone, mostly decent BlackBerrys and assorted laptops. As Ben reached for his Embry stopped him, “You won’t be needing those, come on your with me.” The two left the hanger and traveled through the rows of planes to a back row. When they reached a wingless airplane Embry ushered him inside. “This will be your plane”
Ben looked around, the seats had been stripped out and carpet was torn up. Wires and strips of cloth hung from the ceiling shredded as if the plane had wrecked, some of the wall panels were removed exposing the outer skin of the craft, floor portions were missing showing the inside of the cargo bay. Embry laughed slightly, “why do you think it’s called the bone yard? Don’t worry, it will fly, that’s all that matters. Besides, look at the Brightside, all the windows are still in it.”
He followed Embry into the cockpit, which looked almost as bad as the rest of the ship. He looked around, “Its bigger than I expected.”
“Yeah, that it is. There is a reason these usually have a three of four man crew. But we will get you prepared in time. If you come over and have a seat in the pilot’s seat I can start your training.” Ben did just that, “Okay, this is the most state of the art plane we have here, there was nothing wrong with it when it came here just the owners were cutting back on their long distance fleet and the plane was too old to be sold. So it got shipped here to be used for parts. Now, as you look over the controls can you point out what is important for takeoff procedure?”
Ben pointed at the gauges, lights, switches, and controls. Embry continued, “Your flight simulator is going to get you prepared for the basics, all I can tell you is that when you are accelerating keep your hand off the throttle, push up with your palm, if you get to much G force going your body will rock backward with it bringing the throttle down with it. You’re going to be loaded down so I don’t think that will be a problem, but it’s a good habit. Now your mission is going to be to take off, bank south for a wide turn, get your altitude then shut the plane’s electrical system down. Change out this module back here on this wall, then bring the system back online.” He held up a metal box, and slid it into the wall beside him.
“Who is flying the plane while I walk over there?”
“I think the best plan is tying the control off with a two by four and some rope. We will have to see what the boys think, but you have to come over here and swap out this module. Once you have done that turn the electric back on. We will have the emergency lighting on, but you have to be quick as the engines might fail if the power is off too long.”
“What is too long?”
“Well hopefully not as long as it takes for you to ties that wheel off, change this module, and get back over there to turn the power back on.”
“Has this been done before?”
“Yeah, I think.” They stared at each other.
“I’m still in, what next?”
“When the power is back on all the altitude and mapping information is going to be off. You’re going to get altitude alarms, proximity alarms, and stuff like that. Acknowledge and accept the red lights. Make sure all of the systems are back online correctly, if there is an issue, I will leave the manual here with you. As soon as the plane is stabilized, turn on the autopilot. Once it is engaged, get to this hatch.” Embry gestured to an opening on the floor. “Climb in here, and seal it behind you before you exit the plane. We will have a drag line set up. Clip it to your flight jacket, and use the drag clip to get into the glider. Once you are in the air, the destination is set, you simply have to steer your way back here like following a GPS.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
“Napoleon once said there is no sure way to victory then a well laid plan.”
Over the next few months over two hundred pilots were trained, delivery trucks arrived steadily with ordinance. Embry had found a contractor that owned a disposal company that had hundreds of pounds of stored ammunition, explosives, and fireworks. All of it was brought in the night and fashioned into make shift bombs. The most common variety was made by sealing a lead weight to the tip of sheet metal HVAC pipe, a simple plunger igniter was set with in the lead, and the rest of the pipe was filled with powder, iron fragments, and live rounds. The back was closed off, stable wings were attached, and the entire unit was wrapped with metallic tape.
Ben’s plane was assembled as well, eventually the electricity was turned on and he was able to go through preflight check lists. Embry added, “You’re the first in the air, so be careful. We are trying to get these flights authorized, but there is no guarantee.” The back of the plane was filled with load after load of powder, fireworks, ammo, and propane bottles.
Trial by Fire
Greg received the text message, quite surprised, and set his phone down on the coffee table. “Jan 20, 0600” was all it said.
“No, no, no, All Gore said so.” He mumbled shaking his head slightly. “May the lord help us.” He stood and walked down into the basement, moving the washing machine to the side, a quick smack on the wall revealed his trap door. Most of the old houses had coal shuts, and most people filled them with dirt. In this old house it simply made a private room.
Greg had been stockpiling black pipe and caps for years, half the room was filled. Each one he carefully filled with black powder, and capped off, half were sealed with a length of cannon fuse, the other half with magnesium electric fuses. As he filled a few plastic grocery sacks, he took them and slowly filled his Jeep Cherokee.
When the vehicle filled, he drove down to the trucking yard his group had agreed to use, he loaded the ordinance directly into the moving van. He was surprised to find it was over half full already. Once unloaded he returned and filled the truck one more time, Darren was finishing his unload when he arrived.
“Damn,” he stated as he looked in the truck, “That’s more bang than McVea had.”
“Yeah, this truck would make one hell of a bang. You think we got enough men?”
“No problem man, I think I saw at least four groups coming down with over a grand each plus who ever joins up as we come down the mountain.” Greg looked over the truck, “I am wondering if we got enough bang in here.”
“You gotta be kidding right?”
“This is home made, and we got plenty of major uses for it.”
“We have the propane tanks coming, and who knows what the other guys will bring with them.” The two unloaded both vehicles closing the back of the moving truck.
Within a few days the E150 van arrived. Four fifty-five gallon drums were rolled into the back and filled with load after load of homemade black powder, eight bottles of propane were loaded in and the van was parked. Three more drums were filled and loaded in his Jeep.
Ozzie knocked on old man Walace’s door around five p.m. Henry didn’t like the sheriff on a good day, but today was awful. The door cracked, a double barrel shot gun slid out the crack, “You’re trespassing sheriff.”
“Look Henry I just came here to talk, no business today.”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“I have something to share with you Henry, you mind putting that antique chunk of steel down and inviting me in?” the sheriff was calm, not even showing the slightest amount of intimidation.
The gun lowered and the metallic click struck twice as old man Walace gently released both hammers, Ozzie could hear the gun being set against the wall, a moment passed and the door swung open. “You got some balls coming over here after your stunt at Gunther’s”
“Henry Walace, what kind of man are you to hold that bullshit over my head, I don’t write the law, I just enforce it.” He spoke as he entered the house, “Besides, I’m doing what I can to help him out, you gotta be patient.”
Henry stood there, his white beard and biker jacket accented his muscular structure, “So why you show up here then.”
“Did you happen to catch the news yesterday?”
“Other than that commie bitch getting elected, no.”
“Well, that’s what I thought.” He paused and looked around the cabin, a large Bessie Ross flag with III inside of the thirteen stars dominated the wall. He looked at some of the Vietnam and Afghanistan war photos, then back at Henry, “You might say I know what your friends are planning.”
“I doubt that Sherriff, and even if we planned something, and I stress if, what makes you think your boys could stop us?”
The sheriff walked up to the flag and looked away from Henry, “You know I have two hundred men active and retired, and most of Spokane city police included that would follow me. We have an arsenal of confiscated weapons and crap like that. The most important part is every one of my men swore an oath to uphold the constitution of the United States of America,” he then turned and looked at Henry, “Word has it your men all took that same oath.”
Henry stared at the man, “Yeah, all of us did when we signed up for the military.”
“Then in my opinion if your boys are not planning something, then you are forgetting your oath.”
He sat down in his chair breaking eye contact and lighting a cigarette, “Yeah, it would seem.”
“And word has it one of your boys wrote up a book about what should be done.”
Henry looked at the Sherriff alert, “Look that wasn’t one of my boys that wrote that!”
“Even if it wasn’t, I came here to bury the hatchet, we want in.”
“I don’t know there, we will have to talk about this.”
Ozzie removed an envelope and threw it to Henry, “Gunther’s bail money. Go get him and keep him away from guns for a few days, can’t have him shooting up the county after I signed off that I confiscated his collection.” With that he exited the house.
As soon as the door closed Henry jumped up and watched out the window until the sheriff was out of the driveway, he then grabbed his phone from the end table and dialed. “Linda, I think we got a problem, Sherriff Ozzie just stopped by trying to play good fellow.”
She paused a moment, then asked, “What the hell does that mean? Are you going to jail or something?”
“I mean he just showed up at my door, handed me bail money for Gunther, then all went on telling me he read that blasted book and wants to help us out.”
“Look Henry, Ozzie may be a dick but he isn’t go to go all Ruby Ridge on you, what does he know?”
“I don’t know, he gave me bail money for Gunther as said he wanted to help.”
“Then go get Gunther out and talk to the man. Henry, you’re not the only person that’s tired of those liberals.”
“Fascists is what they are, trying to tell me what I can own, do with my spare time, and what I eat.”
“Just go down to Spokane and get Gunther.” She hung up after that, she didn’t need another lecture, she knew what was at stake. He put the phone in his pocket and jumped in his truck.
He was almost late to the courthouse, but the clerk accepted the cash payment. It took more than two hours for Gunther to be released, and he was happy to be out. “Where the hell did you get five grand old man?”
“If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”
“You got it, and I am out of jail, trust me when I say I will believe anything you say.”
“From officer Ozzie.”
“The sun of bitch that brought me down here?”
“One in the same, and he said to keep away from your guns cause he signed a form that he confiscated them. He also had a weird line of questioning for me. What did you tell him about the red book?”
“Never said a word to him, and I know Olivia didn’t say nothing either.”
“Well the bastard knew about the book and suspects us of having a plan or something, then he said he wanted to help.”
“That actually sounds like him, hell knows he hates liberals as much as we do.” He paused and looked at Henry with a cracked smile, “Sounds like a good ally too. They got guns and body armor galore.”
“Yeah, that’s the problem. It sounds like too good a deal.”
“I say we all sit down and discuss it. I’m in if we only tell him part of the deal.” His smile slacked as he watched for Henry’s expression, none showed.
“You still thinking the Hell’s Angels and Mongels are going to sign up a treaty?”
“You know from what I was hearing they already have. Also I heard the Nazi guys in Idaho are already on their way to Vermont or some shit.”
Henry pulled into a convenience store so they could buy bear for the ride north, “Then you know it’s going down, we have to do our part and maybe Ozzie can help.” With that he went inside and purchased a case of cheap stuff, set it between them and returned on his drive north, “I still don’t trust him.”
“No one said trust him, I was saying use his gear. If we are going to do this we need all the help we can get.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“Look we will all have a sit down, figure out what’s what as a group, in the meantime just keep your eyes on the road, it’s a bit icy.”
Daniel gets it ready
It took more than two weeks, but the last portion of this included filling some pressure cookers, a fuse put in each. A second trip around he also purchased a stack of five gallon buckets, and a few buckets of bolts from the local auto recyclers. Once all the powder was mixed he lined the buckets with bolts and metal, filled the bucket about an inch with powder and placed bolts around the outside of the bucket while he filled it. Bolts filled the top and the bucket was sealed tightly with its lid, a length of fuse was placed in the top.
All of his devices were carefully packed into his older E150, along with his 50 caliber and a few other rifles. A large box of ammo and a stack of cut rail road ties were loaded on top. The van warmed as he put the chains on. January and New Years were approaching fast. Finally a loaded duffle bag with cigarettes and much needed instant coffee were thrown on the front seat.
Down the road he headed, pulling off just past the bridge heading into Seattle. The rendezvous point everyone had agreed on six months ago when they received their copy of the red jacketed manual. The Jeep was parked where it should be, and he pulled up next to it in the parking lot. Rail road ties were packed up the mountain side into the trees.
It was dark when he finally saw Keagan park next to the van. “You think this will work?”
A smile broke across Daniel’s face, “If it doesn’t at least we tried.” He paused as he opened the back doors to the other van grabbing a pick ax and shovel. “Yeah, like the manual stated, we out number them 6 or 7 to 1. I am sure we are not the only crew that grabbed that book.”
“Yeah.” Keagan sounded nervous, but he grabbed the gear and followed Daniel up the mountain.
Training had paid off, it only took a few hours and the pair had made a half moon out of the ties, a few metal fence posts were driven in for strength. The screen marked a few foot deep hole, with the dirt removed from within covering the ties outside. A few of the ties had been set on 2x4s leaving a view from the blind and the entire structure was covered first with thick tree branches then a white waterproof tarp.
Snow was thrown on the disturbed dirt and the blind was almost invisible from outside. Inside was a rather comfortable fortification that both men could stand inside, the rear was covered with a door. They had the basics, a stove and heater, an ax, and a sleeping bag. The two then went about booby trapping the forested aria down the mountainside with tin cans on strings. Once done they returned to the vans, locked them securely, jumped into the Jeep and were heading home by sunrise.
“You really think one bunker will be enough?” Keagan asked.
A slight smile cracked his face as he answered, “It had better.”
The trip home was quiet, he dropped Keagan off as he pulled into town and drove the Jeep home. He had more gear to pack into this vehicle, and finished midday. He enjoyed a day of well needed sleep, only slightly disturbed by the fireworks bringing in the New Year.
The next 18 days were spent confirming e-mails and text messages and collecting propane canisters. A total of 30 guys planned on the trip, 9 with off road motor cycles. Food, rations, and a few cases of bottle water were loaded into the jeep along with ammo.
Jerry’s new job
He was assigned 10 people, the first thing he did was fire each person’s weapon. Then he assessed their ability to shoot by letting them fire his rifle. He had to explain to four of the people how to zero their rifle, one had to replace his scope because it was scratched. One gun had a warped barrel, and Jerry set the man up with a M1903.
As he got to know the group he talked to them about breathing, counting their heartbeat, slowly pressing the trigger. Carter arrived in the late afternoon, he inspected the people under Jerry’s care watching them shoot. He lifted his binoculars and watched for a few minutes, “You know Jerry, these guys have improved in one day with you more than they were able to improve with me in months.”
“I’m sorry I guess, but most of it was equipment issues.”
“I have not had the time to inspect weapons, I just told them to do it themselves. Glad I found you.” He dropped his binoculars to his chest and reached for a handshake. “Look, I want you up in the hills training with my squads, but I need these people trained. Also we need guns and scopes, I can’t take the time to run down into Salt Lake, Las Vegas, or Wyoming even to get decent guns. Can I trust you to run for weapons and teach people to shoot them?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Here,” he handed over a debit card, “Pin is written on the signature strip. Ill trust you to be selective. Also, find yourself something nice, don’t spare any expense on your personal rifle. Make sure you don’t get anything odd, we have tons of 30-06 and fifty cal ammunition, and if you see any 303 belts grab them.” The road trip took three days.
He was able to pick up ninety 30-06 and eleven fifty calibers as well as Weatherby with a night scope. Upon returning he trained, outfitted, and instructed four to twelve people a day equipping and zeroing the new rifles. The month went by as he read through his books, and eventually he traded for magazines.
Carter showed up just after New Years, “I gotta take you up the mountain tomorrow, we have to get you trained.”
“I know how to stalk.”
“Good, but you realize the guys after you are trained as well.” The training went well, seven days in the mountains, stalking other teams, calling out on radios. Carter was impressed, Jerry was as exceptional moving as he was at shooting.
The next week was followed by plans after plans. Carter had everything lined out. They were warned about winter combat pants being used by friendlies, and the plan was to start at the border and move in on Sacramento.
Jerry was moving out as he came across Bill, “Which team did you get on?”
Bill looked surprised, he had never seen Jerry in full suit with two rifles hanging from his back, “Yeah, I am on a demolition crew, we are knocking out the power lines down the ridge heading north.”
“Good, take care.”
“Why, where are you heading?”
“Sacramento, then south.” He climbed in his jeep with seven other guys and they were off into the night.
January twentieth, four am, car after car pulled up grabbing a duffle bag of the pvc ordinance and a couple of propane tanks. Watches were set, hands shaken, and the vehicles left into the early morning. By seven am Daniel himself was taking off down the interstate toward Seattle.
He entered a convoy of semi-trucks, public busses, and trucks with trailers pulling steel trash or motor cycles. The weight of the endeavor was finally felt, this was happening now.
The convoy came to a stop just past the lot where the van was parked. Motor cycles disappeared with their riders into the mountains to the north of the road. A semi that looked to be filled with rocks and dirt was driven down the medium to the east bound lane, a few other trucks followed que.
Ten men went down onto the east bound lane attempting to slow the traffic, assisting drivers into a bus that sat waiting in the west bound lane ahead of the parking semis trucks. One man continued down the road with a sign claiming the road was closed.
Cars started piling up, Daniel gave his food provisions to a group that took them to his blind. He followed with his fire arms. Cell phone jammers started being deployed in the snow down the median, a steep slope separating the lanes of traffic.
When the driver had returned placing the sign the cars stopped arriving. One over the road driver volunteered to drive the bus back to Seattle and they left. A hand full of refugees, a Montana couple and few people from Idaho or Spokane were given a truck, one group even offered to help.
The east bound lane of vehicles were pulled up so both lanes were full, a couple trucks were driven onto the median. Propane bottles were placed next to a few of the PVC ordinance down both rows of vehicles and gasoline was poured all around.
As each of the power lines to the north were toppled, the propane bottles produced darkened mushroom clouds. Four more blasts rang out from the south toppling a few wind turbines. A fashioned torch was dropped onto the gasoline, and within minutes the blasts began. It only took a few minutes and both lanes of the interstate were filled with potholes and burning wreckage.
Minutes later a series of louder blasts rang out from the north, this would be the bridge for the railway. Motor cycles were returning, and ordinance was being unloaded from the vans. The men would extinguish the flames on the road way, and booby trap the remaining bent steel. In a few spots they even winched the vehicles closer fully close the lane.
Daniel observed as the men went about their business, taking notes on trails through the debris. His attention was caught by the arrival of a highway patrol.
Daniel was overweight, but besides this handicap he called out over the handheld radio for a cease fire running down the mountainside. Next to the jeep was a four wheeler someone had dropped off, never driving one before he learned quickly.
Through a bullhorn he screamed out, “Cease fire!” as he drove break neck to the eastbound lane avoiding obstacles on the medium. “Officer, don’t shoot” he cried out. The gunfire stopped, and he parked the dangerous machine.
“I’m going to walk out toward you, I’m unarmed” he called out.
“Fine,” the policeman answered, “Just keep your hands where I can see them.”
With both hands above his head Daniel approached the cop. He could see the man was scared and as soon as he was close he began, “Hey there, I just want to talk to you, keep your head on and no one gets hurt.”
“What the hell is going on here!” the man pointed his gun directly at Daniel, shaking.
“Well that’s what I want to talk to about.” Cool, calm voiced. He approached.
“That’s far enough” the policeman demanded.
“I would prefer if we just sat in your car, it is winter and holding my hands above my head like this is quite uncomfortable. I am unarmed.” He calmly protested.
It took a few seconds, but the officer finally relented, “Okay, come around the front of the car, put your hands on the hood.” Daniel slowly complied. The officer frisked him.
“Those won’t be needed,” he stated at the cop pulled out the handcuffs, “We are just going to talk.”
He stood there behind Daniel, looked down at the cuffs, then looked at the line of armed men and smoldering cars just in front of him, he dropped the set back into their pouch. “I guess… jump in” a sigh of defeat came over him.
Daniel jumped in the passenger side, the officer up front. The first thing he noticed was the small caliber bullet holes in the windshield. “Well,” he withdrew the red covered book from his jacket and handed it to the officer, “We have no beef with you, though I need to fill you in.”
“I would say, firing at an officer is…”
“No,” he interrupted, “Let me lay this out for you. There are about thirty heavily armed insurgents covering you right now. Everything from AR-15s to 50 caliber snipers, all pointed at you. This book will explain everything to you, but right now I need to fill you in. Did you notice your radio and cell phone were dead?”
“Yeah, I noticed, even lost the computer.”
“Well, for a while the US was being run by two factions, as of this year though the number of immigrants we have allowed to come in have eliminated our representation at the federal level. We have already lost representation at the state level here in Washington as you know, and those of us to the east can’t deal with it.”
“Well not all of us on the west side appreciate it either.”
“That’s good to hear. Anyway, so this book came out a while back. It predicted the last election and inspired a following online. When in the discussion groups we found millions of people in the US just like us, we decided as a mass to simply follow what the book sais and start a revolt.”
“As in an actual revolt?”
“Yes, a full out revolution. We have cut off the highway as you see, dropped the power lines going into Seattle, and blew the railway bridges. But this isn’t just here, this is just our part. There are groups all the way down the coast doing this, as well as on the east coast.”
The policeman relaxed some, setting his gun on the dash, “Look, if I knew this could happen I might of helped.”
“You still can.” A confused look came back, “Tell you what, you can be guaranteed that our fascist governor is going to assemble your forces as a group. All you have to do is spread the word that we will allow all those willing to join our fight. You get as many that want to defect to bring what armor, and weapons they can gather, head out here with a white flag in three days with their families, and we can get them taken into Spokane.”
“I’m in, but how do you expect to defeat the military?”
“Well rationally, let me break this down. First read the book, then do the math yourself. There were sixty-nine million that voted for Cruze, you know all of us conservatives carry guns, most of us are ex-military. If only ten percent of us stand up today, that is just under seven million men and women, total in the entire military are just under one million here in the US. Look around you right now, of the thirty men here how many do you see?”
He looked around, then at Daniel, “Seven.”
“Unlike the military, we spend more time at the range. We blend in better and don’t have to wear uniforms. You get my point?”
“Okay, so you’re just going to let me drive back to Seattle now?”
“Not exactly, I need your PPE. And you have seventy two hours, park right here and I’ll send a man down to escort you and your family to safety.”
“Done.” He reached out his hand in a shake. “I’ll read your book, and grab some friends. We are kinda tired of the libtards back home anyway.”
The officer exited the car, unloaded the trunk and drove away. Daniel returned to his blind and requested that in three days at least four city busses and a group of armed men be there. It could unfold either way, so protect both sides.
Greg’s ride home
January twentieth finally arrived. Greg was the lead car, the van followed, behind them a pickup with three four wheelers on a trailer. As they drove into town the road crew was busy. He knew what they were up to, each concrete barrier had a metal grate on the bottom center, one guy would break that off with a sledge hammer, and a second man would pack the hole with four or five pipe bombs. They would then roll out an extension cord that would connect to the next hole.
As he carefully drove by he could see the ten men worked very fast. He knew their plan, as they finished they would drive back to the east side of their chain of extension cords into a gas generator and the magnesium fuses should almost all go off as once. It was hoped that the blasts would disable the roadway. Every soften on both sides of the highway a car, or small van would be parked, filled with more of the ordinance and propane bottles.
Greg simply kept driving, west into the outskirts of Portland, then North onto the bridge. The first exit he headed east, snow was starting to accumulate on the road, and soon he found his spot. He pulled the Cherokee into the center of the road, set one hour on the digital timer, armed the device behind his seat, and climbed out through the passenger side door.
The truck arrived, and slowed down. He braved the slush, entered the truck and they continued up the mountain. The three were silent. They were stopped at the top of the mountain by a small traffic accident, a police officer in white camaflough pants was directing traffic. Traffic slowly moved into one lane. Greg looked at his watch, 5:59, he watched out the window and clicked on the radio.
As the clock hit 6:00 blasts of light shot out from behind them and to the right of the truck, a series of retorts echoed from around them, the radio cleared out to static. In the rear view mirror the brightly lit cities went dark, lights in the woods around them also went out. Greg cleared his throat, “It’s started.”
Dylan, the driver, looked at him, “I feel it’s for the best.”
“Works not done yet, this is just the beginning.” Greg added, “At least we didn’t have to bug out of there on the four wheelers, having a heater is nice.”
“Yeah, imagine being down there.” He adjusted the mirror.
Greg changed the radio over to AM, and scanned the channels. An odd station came through the silence, “… in the first moments of this conflict the entire western seaboard has went black. Our sources are telling of an airplane raid and heavy fighting along the California coast, and armed conflicts have been reported east of Portland. We have lost all communications with the Eastern seaboard, but…” the radio went silence for a moment.
“Gun fighting east of Portland?” the silent passenger in the middle asked.
Greg looked at him solemnly, “We started a war, what did you expect?”
When they arrived at the highway, they turned and headed south. Snow was falling and the night was eerily dark, dark in every direction. After about a half hour the radio caught another station.
“…California has seen the worse of the fighting, insurgents have taken control of no less than three commercial aircraft and flown them into structures along the coast. Most notably the Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant, the Los Angeles Oil refinery, and the Mandalay Natural Gas Power Plant. We have not confirmed the death toll of these terror attacks nor the extent of the damage…”
Dylan flipped the radio off, “We all know what he is going to carry on about, let’s focus on the work we need to do.”
Fly boys in action
January rolled around, and Ben arrived early. The plane was being filled, he was almost amused by the machine. The wings were from different companies, the engines as well. Each was a different color. He knew the air frame had been reinforced, but he also knew what these were loaded with. Five multicolored air machines stood in a line ready for takeoff.
Embry caught Ben by the runway, “You’re going to do fine.”
“I wrecked on landing twice Embry.”
“Well, that’s only a wooden plane, be glad you’re not landing that big ass thing.”
“I did better landing the 747 then the glider.”
“That’s only on a simulator”
“I should get loaded up”
“Yes, I see your friends are getting here.”
Ben waved as he approached the craft labeled, A. He climbed up the ladder from the hatch where the glider was attached to the belly of the plane. He stowed the ladder, and made sure the emergency cord was still attached, and then closed the hatch. He climbed in through the floor and took his seat in the cockpit. It was not long before the plane was hauled to the runway and pushed into position.
His heart jumped in his chest as the tower light turned green, as he had practiced he swiped switches and one after another the massive engine came online. All green lights, he gunned the throttle. The massive jet vibrated all around him, when the throttle was in the remarked position, he pulled the brake release. The planes were full, over weight actually, the runway was set up to take these large planes, but as a safety precaution these planes would be taking off full throttle as if from an aircraft carrier.
It jolted forward like a horse ready to take off from the gate, as he held the steering wheel the massive hulk sprinted down the runway. In the key spot, he pulled back hard and opened the throttle even more, they had marked this position as well. Just like he was told he could feel the pressure build on his chest. Alarms whistled and buzzed, he stared at the gauges, felt every vibration as the plane gained altitude.
In what felt like hours, he saw the magic numbers and leveled the plan slightly. He pulled back on the throttle as he did, just as he was trained and practiced. The pressure on his chest let up, and he hit the nest few rows of switches. He felt better knowing he had a perfect take off.
As he banked south in the wide turn, he could see the bone yard off in the distance. He looked as sharply as he could, though he found one airplane in the air, he couldn’t make out what was happening at the base. He leveled the craft and started the destination to the coast.
When the altitude and speed were perfect, he attached what looked like a club to the steering wheel, tied it off to eye bolts that were placed there for this purpose. He actually stood up before switching on the emergency lights and shutting off the electric. Three big steps, he pulled out the flight control box, and carefully slid the new box in its place. Three steps back, and he hit the switch.
To his amazement, every emergency light on the dash lit up. He switched them on and off, and as he was told the altitude was incorrect, speed as well. He dislodged the club, turned the autopilot on, and escaped through the hatch.
Once suited up, he opened the outside hatch and carefully slid down the rope. Inside the glider, he buckled up and cut the lines. The glass dome lid slammed in on him just as the craft plummeted down and away from the 747. Ben struggled with the stick, it was extremely harder to maneuver than any PC simulation. Once he had full control however, the stick didn’t fight much.
He flipped on the GPS, and steered toward home. He passed at least a hundred airplanes leaving the base before he landed on the southern strip, and the landing was easier than any of the simulations.
Embry ran to him as he dismounted the small craft, “There has been an unexpected problem and we are loading the big bombers, I need you behind the wheel of one.”
He ran behind him asking, “I thought you said you didn’t trust these things to get off the ground, and you said they wouldn’t be worth a shit without a crew, what’s changed?”
“Well first off you have a crew, secondly I still don’t think these beasts are worth flying, but we have no choice. You will have plenty of protection from a squadron of F14s, and the original flak jackets are already on board, I heard old timers say to use a spare one as seat cushion.”
“A crew? I’ve never even started one of these and your trusting me to take passengers?”
Embry grabbed Ben and spun him around, they stood face to face, “We started a war today, you need to realize that. We are doing everything we can to win this war as some of us face execution if we lose, I need you in that plane because you are the only pilot I have that can fly it! After taking off in that 747 this will be easy. I don’t mean to make your head swell, but you pulled off something a lot harder than this mission.”
“Sorry.” Was all he could say and the two continued running to the plane.
Embry calmed down as they arrived, “Ben, look you have been coming out her in love with these things for years, and from I have seen tonight you are an excellent pilot with a future, I don’t want you to go up in this flying death trap. I really don’t, but they can carry the load we have, and they are built for it.” He paused, “Look, don’t be a hero, one run, bank north get to the landing strip. Don’t try to offer cover or assistance, straight to the landing strip and high. All the controls are manual versions of what you dealt with on the 747, and these buckets land themselves. Be careful, I’ll be right behind you.”
“You’re flying too?”
“I have too, our best pilots are already in the air. Mount up, we head due west.” With that he patted Ben’s shoulder, and ran toward another plane.