Whiskey Black Book Set: The Complete Tyrant Series (Box Set 1) (54 page)

The men all said no as they continued to smile at one another.

“Then dismiss yourselves, and remember, ears only!”

The District

Executive Commander Abdul Muhaimin received a phone call from the White House Situation Room, where veterans and active-duty military personnel were being enumerated. Muhaimin was hoping to hear some good news from his Advanced Technological Weapons Systems czar.

When the executive commander arrived, the czar stood and saluted him.

“At ease, Mr. Vahidi. What is it you have found?” he asked him in his native Persian language.

“Sir, I’m afraid the number of active-duty American military men and veterans reach numbers upwards of four million. That’s figuring the three million that are RFID chipped and guessing another one million for those veterans who are not.”

“That’s a very high number, Mr. Vahidi. Have you double-checked your work?”

“Triple-checked, sir. The numbers are accurate—three million chipped. There could be more than a million non-chipped veterans still existing, sir.”

“We’ll have to focus on group numbers,” Muhaimin said, pointing at the hologram of America.

“The map is almost completely red, sir. They are everywhere and it’s difficult to see from this altitude, but when you zoom in,” Vahidi said as he zoomed in on South Dakota, “you can see in great detail who’s amassing where.”

Muhaimin looked at the screen and saw that the Black Hills Depot had thousands of RFID-chipped men walking about the area.

“What is this? What am I seeing? There must be thousands.”

“Two thousand five hundred, give or take. They are not with us, sir. You can see that they are alone. There are only RFID-chipped American soldiers. If they were ours, they would be working alongside UN soldiers, who are not RFID chipped. They would appear next to them as people walking, not having a red square assigned to their location.”

“How can we find out who they are and what they’re doing?”

“I’m afraid what they’re doing cannot be discovered, but they are living in underground bunkers, because we lose their signal when they go twenty feet below the surface of the earth. But, we do know who they are,” he said as he walked over to another system and tapped a few buttons on the keyboard.

Muhaimin looked back up at the hologram while Vahidi highlighted a person with the tab key.

“Now we can know who they are by sorting through them like this,” Vahidi said, tapping the tab button on the keyboard.

As Muhaimin watched, an information block sorted through each individual on the grid. The information block contained the name, rank, branch of service, years served, living family members, and more.

“Sir, these are active-duty Marines. A regiment-sized unit and each member comes from a different unit. It’s like they amassed to this point out of the blue.”

Vahidi pressed the tab key and selected a Marine.

“This Marine is supposed to be assigned to 2
^nd
Battalion 4
^th
Marines located in Camp Pendleton, California. This Marine,” he said, selecting another member on the hologram, “is supposed to be assigned to 1
^st
Battalion 2
^nd
Marines, Camp Lejeune, North Carolina. As I search through the personnel files,” he said, walking over to yet another system, “I find that they were reassigned to a classified unit and location, a complete black op, with no further history of their location until now.”

As Muhaimin was watching in bewilderment, he saw five members filing out of a bunker.

“And who are they?” he asked, pointing to the screen.

Vahidi tabbed to the members and highlighted them, showing a service record of active-duty Marine Corps lieutenant colonels.

“Mr. Vahidi, watch that bunker and report to me immediately if you see a high-ranking Marine come walking out. I want answers and I want them now. Keep the drone out of sight until you can tell me more.”

“Yes, sir. It shall be done.”

Pyongyang, North Korea

Kil Jong Ho came riding up to the launch site and exited his car. The entourage of security and military commanders were on site to greet him. The dictator walked up to his chief scientist and military commander.

“Is it ready, then?”

“Yes, Your Highness, we have done as you commanded and we now await your word.”

“First tell me what you have done.”

“Yes, Your Highness, we have retrofitted a surface-to-surface intercontinental inertial-guided ballistic missile with a timed air-burst electromagnetic detonator. With the technology we have available to us right now, we have improvised this missile so that it will explode four hundred miles off the western coast of Oregon. It will be an air detonation over the Pacific Ocean, causing all electricity and technology within the effective range to be destroyed.”

“And what is the effective radius?”

“Your Highness, the best we could do is an estimated thirteen-hundred-mile maximum effective radius. We are unable, given our technology, to produce both the required distance and the altitude to affect the entire surface area of America.”

“How much of America will suffer?”

“Your Highness, we estimate that the states of Oregon, Washington, California, Nevada, Utah, and Idaho will receive total exposure. Arizona, Colorado, Wyoming, and New Mexico will experience only partial exposure.”

“And these states will no longer be able to use their technology again?”

“Your Highness, all exposed electronics will cease to have any usefulness at all, irrevocably.”

“Loss of life?”

“Your Highness, there will be no loss of life caused by the missile itself. What electronics currently exist will cease to function. If any of those items are being used for life sustainability, they will cease to function, and those on life support will cease to exist.”

“How long will it take the Americans to restore their electrical grid?”

“Your Highness, it will take months, if not years, to restore the grid.”

Kil Jong Ho looked at his military commander and said, “Make the launch.”

His military commander saluted him and walked off in a hurried shuffle to the launch room, with the scientist in tow.

Kil Jong went back to his car and lowered his window. He looked at his driver and said, “Stay here. I want to watch this.”

Within minutes, the missile’s cryogenic propellants were ignited and it was lifting into the air. Kil Jong watched as it vanished out of eyesight at an unbelievable speed.

“Now America will know the legitimacy of Kil Jong Ho.”

Benton, Illinois

Bill had the last firewatch of the night. His rifle was slung forward across his chest and he had a tiny piece of duct tape removed from the window so that he could see the early morning activities outside. The others were still asleep in the room that seemed as midnight from the darkness. For Bill, the bright light coming through the tiny opening in the tape was piercing.

On the ground level just across the street and at the end of the block, Bill had seen the UN vehicles pulling up. They seemed out of place for a Biocontrol zone. Bill’s left cheek was pressed against the glass as he looked at the tight right angle to see what was happening. Two OD green-colored military vehicles that read
UN Mobile Command
on the side, in bold white letters, had pulled up. One of them had a mechanized-looking trailer that began opening along the center length of the trailer. It split in two and widened horizontally until the two parts could not separate any further. Then a rounded dish began rising up from the center of what used to look like a trailer. It was some kind of satellite dish that was rotating in a circular motion. After a couple minutes of watching this, several men dressed in white Biocontrol uniforms came piling out of the rear trailer. They were all armed and pointing in his direction. Alarmed, Bill backed away from the window and found himself closest to Jess. Not wanting her to inadvertently yell out, he placed his hand over her mouth, at the same time giving her a shake to wake her.

Startled and defensive, and weary from the long road of heightened awareness, Jess reacted, shooting Bill in the chest and throwing him off of her. The gunshot awakened everybody in the room. They jumped to their feet with guns drawn and pointing at the shadows on the floor.

Nathan ran to the window and began shredding duct tape from the window, hoping to let some sunlight in so they could see what had just transpired. Those in the room that were standing around Bill and Jess saw that he had been shot by her, and she still had her pistol in hand. Nathan, also concerned and curious about what had happened, had no time to ask. He immediately saw the men outside and that they were taking cover on the opposite side of several armored vehicles that were pulling up. He saw the satellite and the trailer labeled
UN Mobile Command
, but what alarmed him the most was another vehicle towing a large tubular device with two other smaller tubes attached to computerized gadgets, all self-contained with an armored anterior design.

The entire device was a technological breakthrough in electronic weaponry. For the past decade, North Korea had been leading the way in the development of direct energy weapons. The Chinese had hacked their networks and stolen the blueprints and beta designs for the weapon systems. What North Korea lacked financially to continue with development, China made up for. With development finished, it was time to put these new weapons to the test.

Down the road from the Posse, the mobile command unit was being supervised by Captain Rashoutan Siroosi, an Iranian commander of Advanced Weapons Technology. His name and rank, sewed on his Biocontrol uniform, gave his identity away to others. He was not normally assigned to the areas under quarantine, but the new upgrades to the FLIES drones system had alerted him to the location of high-value targets within the quarantine zone. The mobile command unit was well equipped with computerized GPS and location services being streamed from the Utah Data Collection Center. In addition to the stream, they were receiving real-time information from personnel assigned to the Advanced Weapons Technology Department in the District.

“Where are they now, Sergeant?” Captain Siroosi asked one of the operators of the direct energy weapon.

“Right over there, sir. On the back side of that building, in the alley.”

“You’re absolutely positive that they are Recon Marines not assigned to us?”

“Yes, sir.”

Denny, Morgan, and the Recon Marines had reassembled back at the rally point the night before. Morgan, having found some honey, was able to save Ash. Working with the Recons, Denny put together a search and rescue mission to find Nathan, Jess, and the rest of the missing members. So far they had tracked them to the correct building, but were one floor away from making contact.

Denny heard the shot that Jess had made, and that brought them to their present location.

“We’ve got to get out of here, now,” Nathan said.

“I’ve shot Bill,” Jess said in a panic.

Running over to Bill, Nathan looked at the wound. “He’s not going to make it, Jess.”

“What do you mean I’m not going to make it?” Bill gargled.

“You’ve been shot through the lungs, my friend. You’re going to die.”

“I don’t want to die this way. Not by friendly fire.”

Jess was starting to cry. “I’m sorry, Bill. I didn’t mean—”

Bill interrupted Jess, “I forgive you, brown eyes. Revenge me. Kill some blue helmets.”

“We’ve got to go, now,” Nathan said, looking out the window again.

Jess wasn’t willing to leave Bill behind, but when he started gasping for air, she couldn’t stand to watch the life leave his eyes, so she kissed him on the cheek and headed out the door.

The remaining members ran out the door and down the stairs into the abandoned storefront.

Denny, Morgan, and the Recon Marines were already in the storefront when they came running through the door.

“’Bout time,” Nathan said, hugging Denny. “What took you so long?”

“Well, you know, the apocalypse slowed me down.”

Nathan saw that the Recons were looking through one of the boarded windows at the UN movement.

“They have dewies!” one of them exclaimed.

“What’s a dewie?” Nathan asked.

“Direct energy weapon. We can’t stay here,” the Marine shouted before he left the window. “Take cover, now!” he yelled, and jumped down behind the old counter.

The others didn’t have the same amount of time to take cover, or their reflexes were slower than the Marine’s. The wall blew inward as if hit by a six-foot-diameter torpedo. Shards of wood, glass, and brick went flying from the wall to the interior of the store.

Everybody inside the room fell victim to the blast. There was no person left standing when the dust settled. Nathan was disoriented and his ears were ringing. The room was spinning and he had no concept of direction. His face was numb, as if it was hit with a two-by-four at a hundred miles per hour. Next to him, he saw Jess. She was unconscious from the shock wave that rattled her brain. With the room still spinning, he saw two Marines still standing and walking towards him, throwing debris out of the way. He was able to sit up and turn his head, but for the most part, he was lacking the fine and gross motor skills necessary to stand himself up and move about.

A shout pierced its way through the ringing in his head, but he couldn’t make it out.

“Let’s go! Up and at ’em, Marine!” one of the Recons shouted to him as they grabbed his arm and attempted to pull him up.

The shout was now making sense, and the ringing in his head was subsiding. Nathan found himself on his feet, with the aid of the two Marines that were helping.

Gunfire began erupting from the Biocontrol troops that were stationed outside. Nathan grabbed Jess and clumsily threw her over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry position.

“Let’s go,” the Marine shouted. “We can’t save everyone.”

Nathan looked about the room one more time in search of Denny, but could not see him. The UN troops were closing in on their position quickly, so Nathan had to make one of the most difficult decisions of his life: leaving behind his most loyal and best friend, Denny Ackers.