Whiskey Black Book Set: The Complete Tyrant Series (Box Set 1) (40 page)

Denny looked at it.

There was nothing left of the roof. Of what was left of the house, only the south and west walls were partially standing. They were blackened and about four feet tall.

Denny ran to the house.

Everybody in town could hear Denny’s wails.

Jess continued her work with Pastor Price, Ash, Morgan, Jack, Adam, Andy, and Blake to collect bodies. There were way too many fallen to bury. Jess was disgusted at what was the only course of action for such a large-scale funeral. She knew they had to burn the bodies. They had been collecting them for hours and working hard to identify whoever they could. Throwing them into piles seemed inhumane, but that was the very treatment she gave to the men they were able to identify as raiders. The bodies that could be identified as friends were lined up in rows. The body count was low for their population, even with the dead raiders included. Jess believed that several had fled the area in search of safety.

Denny took Heather’s body up to the bluff and buried her in a secret location. Everybody else took some gasoline and poured it over the bodies of the fallen and stepped back about fifty yards. Pastor Price said a few words and a prayer. After that, he ignited the flames and joined the rest of them.

Murphysboro, Illinois

General Muhaimin had ordered a battalion of UN soldiers to secure a landing zone for him to land his helicopter on. When the general arrived, he was met by a UN colonel named Rau Amar. Amar had fought with Muhaimin in the jihadist wars. He wasn’t as ambitious as Muhaimin, but took his work very seriously and was a dedicated soldier.

Amar was the battalion commander. He saluted Muhaimin and greeted him with the handshake of an old comrade.

“It’s been a long time, old friend,” Amar said to his commander.

“Indeed it has. I feel I have nobody in this world I can confide in,” Muhaimin said, leaving an open-ended comment.

“As in the old days, you can confide in me, sir.”

“I was hoping you would pledge your loyalty to me as the leader of the new world.”

“Sir? The new world?” Amar said, confused.

“As in the New World Order, Colonel Amar. I have attained the highest seat in the world and I control the world’s largest arsenal of military weapons manufacturing and surplus. I am biding my time to be of utmost certainty that I will be followed by my men, Colonel.”

“Sir, you know your men are loyal to your commands, as am I. If it were not so, I would tell you.”

“I knew I could always trust you, Colonel.”

“Of course, sir.”

“Colonel, there’s a bed of fleas that have been irritating my rest. It’s here, in southern Illinois.”

“General, I have some flea and tick killer that may be of some use against your vermin.”

Colonel Amar understood perfectly what Muhaimin was saying. Muhaimin felt comfortable knowing that he had somebody loyal and capable of exterminating the resistance in the southern Illinois area. With that small exchange of words, the general looked at the colonel one last time and bid him farewell.

General Muhaimin stepped onto his helicopter and flew eastward. His destination was the District.

Cade Walker was inspecting the damage left in the wake of the Marines’ assault on the UN convoy and troops. They had seized their weapons and their ammunition before they left. He attempted to start each vehicle, but they only ran long enough to burn whatever was in the fuel lines. Many of the radios had been gutted out of them, but some were left.

Cade turned one of the radios up and sat in the vehicle, listening to the chatter. It was all in English and of Middle Eastern accent.

What he learned was shocking. A man named General Abdul Muhaimin was the Executive Commander of the Global Army in the United States. He had safely landed in Murphysboro, Illinois, and safely evacuated back to the District.

Cade was also shocked by how clumsy and liberal the UN radio communication was. They relayed way too much information, but he was glad they did, nonetheless. That information was good to know, but was nothing he could use.

Cade had also learned of a new weapon being sent to the West Coast from China. A direct energy weapon capable of emitting electromagnetic blasts at specific targets. In addition to this, something called forward lasing identification electronic surveillance drones were going to be used in accordance with the “Main Core.”

The Main Core was a program started by the former United States several years earlier and run by the NSA.

In 2013, the government had built a multibillion dollar facility in Utah, known as the Intelligence Community Comprehensive National Cybersecurity Initiative Data Center. It was full of hi-tech data collection and digital spying equipment.

According to old reports, it could hold a yottabyte (one septillion bytes) of data.

The government was obsessed with collecting data on its veterans and patriots that were labeled as “potential threats.” The criteria to meet this list was both vast and simple: all veterans, outspoken patriots, gun owners, all law enforcement personnel, retired government employees, and any other group or individual that may have a view differing from that of the progressive movement. Amongst the data collected was cell phone communications, emails, Internet uploads, web browser search engines data, and all the contact information belonging to the individuals involved.

In addition, as part of the indoctrination process for military personnel, new recruits were injected with a RFID chip the size of a grain of rice.

When Cade heard the term Main Core, he knew he was in the equation. Inactive law enforcement and military veterans would most certainly pose the greatest threat to a paranoid and out-of-control government. They had the knowledge and training to pose the optimal threat. Cade was determined to make the most of his training. His desire was to be a terror to the United Nations invaders. Now that they had overtaken his home and put an end to his survival group, he had nothing better to do than lay down some kills. His newest acquisition, the Bushmaster .30-06, would come in handy against the UN invaders. Cade wasn’t about to lay down anything but gunfire.

With this new information, Cade returned to his old apartment, in the area he used to control, packed a bag, and went to his fuel-reserve garage. He grabbed two gas cans of fuel and filled an old 2020 white Chevy Impala. Once he had jumped in the driver seat and started the car, he looked one more time over his right shoulder and said good-bye to the place he knew as home. He turned back around, faced forward and started driving west on Route 149.

“My intentions are simple. Survive. Gorham, here I come.”

Chester, Illinois

Buchanan had spent the last couple hours with Specialist Matt Leboe, scouring through the frequencies of the newly acquired radios.

Specialist Leboe had intercepted the same communications that Cade Walker had intercepted from the UN vehicles in Murphy.

“I thought the Main Core was just a conspiracy theory some schmuck made up to stir antigovernment sentiment,” Franks said.

“I’m afraid not. We’re all in danger,” Buchanan said.

“Sir, we have no idea what those DEWs are capable of.”

“At least we know what a weapon looks like. Direct energy weapons will look like something dangerous,” Buchanan said as he scratched his scruff. “What I’m worried about are those FLIES. If they’re coming in from China, they’re not just simple drones. Forward lasing identification electronic surveillance drones sounds pretty techy, and I’m guessing they’re going to be synched with the Utah Data Center.”

“Sir, if I may,” Leboe started.

“Go ahead, you’ve already interrupted my train of thought.”

“The operation of something that sophisticated would cost millions of dollars to build. Traditionally, drones have been controlled remotely by humans. If their plan is to blanket America with those things, it would take thousands of them…tens of thousands, to be effective. I just don’t think that’s practical unless they’re fully automated,” Leboe said.

“Well, that’s problematic,” Franks said.

“Do we know how big they are? How fast they can fly? What do we know?” Buchanan asked.

“At this point, sir, we don’t know anything. I can start asking questions, but that would just arouse suspicion.”

The radio started to come alive with communications on a coordinated attack on a National Guard armory in Marion, Illinois. From what they could hear, there were several National Guardsmen that had taken up a resistance movement against the United Nations and were not cooperating with relocation protocols. They were heavily armed, and the local UN units were requesting assistance from any other available UN troops in the area.

“Mount up,” Buchanan yelled. “We’re heading to Gorham to pick up some friends. They have vehicles, weapons, and training.”

“Sir, shall I contact Reynolds?” Franks requested.

“Absolutely, tell him we found some of his Army brothers and we’re going to collect. Tell him to bring all his Rangers, locked and loaded.”

Buchanan kept a squad of Marines back with Specialist Matt Leboe, and the rest of them loaded their equipment and weapons to head for Gorham one last time. From there, it would be onward to Marion.

Gorham, Illinois

When Denny had made an end to his mourning over the grave of his sister, he left the bluff and rejoined his friends. He was met by Nathan, who had recently arrived and was talking to Jess.

Nathan left Jess’s side and walked up to Denny. They embraced each other firmly, as brothers would do, and wept silently on each other’s shoulders. Their bond now made stronger through death, they understood each other’s loss and found comfort in that, if nothing else.

The rest of the day was spent thinking about their future trip to Chicago and making the preparations that came with a fight against an enemy of unknown size and strength. That meant taking everything that could shoot bullets.

Denny seemed distant, but understandably so. He had just lost his sister and the impact of it had not yet worn off before he was prepping for a battle.

They all longed for the conflict with the FEMA camp. The idea of liberating thousands of Americans was a very gratifying thought.

“Do you really think we can pull it off?” Jess asked Nathan.

“Sure. Why not?”

“Well, we don’t even know how big the place is or how well fortified it is.”

Denny jumped in the conversation unexpectedly. “If he says we can do it, then we can do it. Nathan hasn’t led us to our deaths yet.”

It was the “yet” that caught Jess’s ears.

“Look, I haven’t been trained for war like you guys.”

“You’ll do fine. You’ve had more training than most Americans. You understand cover and concealment. You know how to aim sight alignment and sight picture. That’s better than most,” Nathan reassured her.

Denny’s comment wasn’t about reassuring Jess. It was about Nathan’s record as a leader and decision maker. Denny felt that his reassurance days were over. He promised his sister that he would never let anything happen to her. In fact, he had left her side to make sure nothing would happen to her. Unfortunately, that decision cost her life and may have cost his, had he stayed. Denny was not the same man. He felt stronger and freer, as if there were no more ties to a home.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Jess answered Nathan.

“Besides, we’ve got a Weapons Company of Marines on our side,” Nathan said.

“SHHHH, do you hear that?” Denny said.

The soft sound of engine roars was coming from the north.

“That must be them. Take up a defensive position,” Nathan yelled.

Everybody ran to grab a hiding spot. It was purely a defensive and precautionary move. They were expecting Buchanan, but being lackadaisical after all they’d been through would be stupid.

As soon as the convoy of Weapons Company Marines were visible, Nathan gave the all clear.

Everybody stood up. There were only a handful of people from the original Posse. Nathan, Jess, Denny, Ash, Morgan, Jack, Adam, Andy, and Blake were present. Pastor Rory Price was there and making himself available at every possible chance. His wife and children were present. He often showed them affection, but the priorities were clearly in favor of liberty. Only death would come between him and the liberty he desired for his family.

“I’m going with you,” Pastor Price said to Nathan as the HMMWVs came rolling in.

“But you have a wife and two daughters to look after,” Nathan said to him.

“I’ve already talked it over with them. They understand that they won’t have a life without the freedom that comes with it. They won’t be taken prisoner and made to die in some wretched prison camp.”

Nathan could see the resolve in his eyes. Rory had made eye contact with Nathan and he wasn’t letting go.

“Alrighty then. Give them a kiss good-bye. We’re not sure when we’ll be back.”

Rory turned and kneeled down next to his kids.

The HMMWVs were now parked next to them and waiting for everybody to load up.

Rory looked into his little daughters’ eyes. Each of them was crying, but the memory of their talk was still fresh in their minds. The wind was blowing their blonde hair into their faces. The fine strands were sticking to their cheeks because of their tears. Rory kept wiping them away, but they kept pouring from their eyes. He kissed each of them on the forehead and wiped their tears one last time.

Rory stood up and kissed his wife and hugged her passionately before he opened the door and stepped into the convoy. As they drove away, Rory looked at his family, and they never took their eyes off of him until he disappeared out of their sight.

Along the way, the convoy pulled over for a man standing on the side of the road next to a broken-down white Chevy Impala.

“Are you a veteran, son?” Buchanan yelled to the man.

“Yes, sir, I am. I fought against the hajis in the jihadist wars,” the stranger answered.

“Hop in. We could use your experience,” Buchanan said.

The stranger opened the door and entered the backseat, sitting next to Nathan. He extended his hand and said, “Thanks for the ride! My name’s Cade.”