Whiskey Black Book Set: The Complete Tyrant Series (Box Set 1) (62 page)

A young girl came out of the kitchen and snuggled up to the woman.

“This is my wife, Kara, and my daughter, Elise.”

“Hello,” Kara said as she pulled Elise in close.

“Don’t worry about Rory. He’s a pastor. He’s going to pray about being our new minister.”

“New minister?” Rory asked. The comment caught his attention.

Kara answered, “Our last minister caught a guilty conscience.”

“That’s enough, Kara,” Markus said, interrupting her to silence her information sharing.

Rory was catching bits and pieces of a puzzle that he was working desperately to solve, and the whole time he was feeling uncomfortable in his own skin. He was driven by both a desire to survive and a desire to know the truth.

Choosing not to press the matter of the guilty-conscience comment, he took a moment to hear a humming sound that sounded like electricity.

“Do I hear electrical power?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, we have generators and food in the fridge. We don’t have running water yet, but we’re working on that one still.”

“Food in the fridge?”

“Oh yes, I was going to feed you. Sorry that I was sidetracked by our visit to the board. Honey,” he said, looking to Kara, “could you put some meat on for our new guest?”

“You’ve got meat?”

“All will be revealed in time. Relax yourself. It’s probably been a long while since you’ve eaten this good.”

Just Outside of Black Hills Ordnance Depot, Edgemont, South Dakota

It had been a two-day trip for General John James, Admiral Belt McKanty, Lieutenant Colonel Charles Buchanan, Gunnery Sergeant Franks, Captain Kurt Riley, Sergeant First Class Benjamin Reynolds, and many others. They had mapped the terrain and roads out before they left Valparaiso, Indiana, and counted on a fifteen- to seventeen-hour trip if they went nonstop and traded out drivers. Along the way, they had only stopped to refuel and to empty their bladders.

The group was now closing in on their destination and they were eager to see if the secret Marine Corps regiment was up to par.

General James looked over at Lieutenant Colonel Buchanan and said, “Charles, tell the men we’re pulling over one last time. We’re going to make sure our gear’s together so we can at least look professional when we pull into the depot.”

“Roger that, John.”

James and Buchanan were in the back seat of the third HMMWV. The driver was a lance corporal named Leroy Bennett, and his front-seat passenger was Gunnery Sergeant Franks.

There had been a lot of hoopla over using first names now that the apocalypse had come. The commandant insisted on being more relaxed with some things, but maintaining strict discipline in other areas. He didn’t see any harm with a change in name protocol; and while Buchanan was initially uneasy with it, he eventually opened up to using first names. Gunny, on the other hand, had shared his first and middle name far more than any other. When asked what his name was, he would reply, “My first name is Gunnery, my middle name is Sergeant, and my last name is Franks. My close friends call me Gunny, for short.” With that being said, Gunny only had a couple close friends, and they were the people calling on him. To all others, his name was Gunnery Sergeant Franks.

Buchanan patted Franks on the shoulder and said, “Did you copy what John said?”

“Yes, sir.”

Franks grabbed the mic that was sitting near his feet and called out to the rest of the convoy.

“Attention Romeo Lima,” he said, referring to Operation Returning Liberty, “This is Echo Seven Foxtrot. We are nearing Alpha Oscar,” referring to the area of operation, “so break out your moon floss and toothpaste. We’re going to empty ourselves and look sharp going in. Over.”

Buchanan looked at Franks and said, “Did you have to say moon floss on the radio?”

“Probably not, sir. But I figured with all the lax chatter, I might catch a break to be myself again.”

“You’ll get your chance real soon. All this travel isn’t doing well for honing poor combat skills.”

The convoy came to a stop and the Marines, militiamen, and civilians that were traveling alongside the general stepped out and found themselves private spots where they could use their moon floss. Moon floss was the term the Marines used for toilet paper. It had become a popular term years prior to the Flip.

Within a few minutes, Gunny was yelling at everybody to fall in, a military term for
get into formation
.

Once again, the civilian militiamen were standing in their formation and trying their best to mimic the military men and veterans.

When everybody was in their place, Buchanan took his position in front of all the units and waited on James to address the men. They were considering their environment an active war zone, so they did not salute one another, although any person watching from afar could see who was in charge by who was giving the orders.

James walked up to Buchanan and said, “Let’s look at everybody casually and not make much of a scene. Some of these men are under oath, but all of them are volunteers and at liberty to leave at any time.”

“Yes, sir.”

Both men began looking over the units. Buchanan asked his officers and senior enlisted to help them. Within a few minutes they were done and loading back up into the convoy.

Colonel Edward Hensworth, and Lieutenant Colonels Cody Barker, Zachary Barnes, Jack Wright, Bobby Cox, and David Howard were notified that a very large convoy of US military vehicles and civilian
POVs (privately owned vehicles)
 was entering into their area of operation. Hensworth gave the command and the lieutenant colonels issued orders to set up a security perimeter.

The Army depot was massive in size. Given the size alone, there was no way to secure the entire perimeter with a regiment. The colonel had set up a specific perimeter that was manageable for the size of his regiment. When the word came for them to secure it, they sprang into action and took control of the zone.

There was nothing coming into or leaving the area they had secured without authorization. Seeing the regiment was secretly placed there, only one person knew of its whereabouts, and that was Commandant John James.

Looking forward into the horizon, the men could see several CH-53E Super Stallion helicopters lifting into the air and taking control of the perimeter. Two of the choppers took an attack position, one with its port side to the convoy and the other with its starboard side to the convoy. It probably wasn’t enough firepower to stop them, given the fact they were heavily armed with antitank weaponry and heavy guns, but it was enough to make the statement that this area was under strict control.

The area was not fenced in and was open on all sides. The front of their convoy was approached by several Marines in battle fatigues. They walked towards the lead vehicle as they came to a stop. The Marines checked the first vehicle and gave them clearance. The second vehicle in the convoy was then approached by the Marines. It was given the same clearance and entered the depot. The Marines then approached the HMMWV and the Marine recognized the commandant.

“Sir, we’ve been anxiously awaiting your arrival.”

“Thank you, Marine, I’m glad to be here.”

“Sir, are the rest of these vehicles with you?”

“Yes, they are. They’ve come a long way and they’re good men and patriots.”

“Yes, sir. You’re clear,” the Marine said with gladness as he waved the rest of the vehicles into the depot’s security perimeter.

Arsenal Island, formerly known as Rock Island Arsenal

Roughly four hundred high-ranked enlisted UN soldiers worked at Arsenal Island. For years, the formal name had been bounced back and forth from Rock Island Arsenal to Arsenal Island. When Muhaimin had come into possession of the State of Illinois, he went with Arsenal Island, because he figured it brought anonymity to the munitions manufacturer.

They had recently received a call from Muhaimin demanding a census of the island and a list of military-manufactured equipment and munitions. The list gave him logistics and ground superiority that he never knew he had. Along with this new set of capabilities came a reassurance of certain victory against a growing patriot resistance.

Muhaimin had almost no sea support. The French and the Iranians had a small navy, and the Russians were using their navy to secure new lands in Eastern Europe. Russia had been a growing threat since the turn of the millennia. Their donation of troops to the UN was a sideshow distraction to relieve the pressure that the UN was putting on them regarding the occupation of Ukraine and other hostile territorial takeovers. With almost no support coming in from sea, Muhaimin was glad to receive the list of logistical support that was being manufactured in America.

Among the manufactured items being produced at Arsenal Island were MREs (meals ready-to-eat), Colt-style service rifles and 5.56 mm NATO ammunition, M225B Black Voids (2028 model tanks with gun-howitzers and heavy machine gun turrets), grenade launchers, shrapnel vests, and helmets.

With his troop size shrinking, Muhaimin had been spread thin. On one front, he had the resistance fighters, who were scattered and lacking leadership to form an effective resistance. Because he had initially underestimated the patriots, he was now brought to his current problem of being spread thin. He had found himself trying to reorganize his manpower so he could wipe out large gatherings of military resistance, like the group he had identified using the Main Core program.

On another front, he found he had apparently made a new enemy with North Korea. He could not afford going to war with another country, especially now that China would probably back the North Koreans. It was his ego that had brought the North Korean attack to American shores, wiping out every piece of electronic superiority that he had over the Americans living on the West Coast. If China was to find out that it was Muhaimin that had orchestrated the death of Councilor Pao, it would bring a new set of problems and circumstances for the already troubled executive commander.

With these thoughts in mind, Muhaimin entered the White House Situation Room, where he had requested a meeting with the UN Council regarding the current status of America and the progress he was making. His goals were not the same as the UN’s, but he was smart enough to know that he had to sell to them what it was that they were wanting to hear. The bottom line to Muhaimin was that he needed more troops.

“Gentlemen, so good to see you again,” he said as he looked up at the hologram. “It saddens me to hear of the loss of Ambassador Pao.”

Ambassador Makarovich was always the second most outspoken member of the council, after Pao. He was the first to respond to Muhaimin.

“General Muhaimin—” he started to say before he was interrupted.

“It’s Executive Commander Muhaimin,” he said, correcting the ambassador.

“Right, Executive Commander Muhaimin, since you are so very good at creating positions of power, perhaps you can explain to us why it is you need more UN troops?”

Muhaimin played coy about the attack on America. He knew exactly what country attacked him, but wasn’t willing to reveal his abuse of power with the Iranian Homeland Security intelligence.

“Gentlemen, America’s West Coast was attacked with some type of electromagnetic weapon, rendering me without contact to all troops in operation west of South Dakota. This means that the Main Core program and the Utah Data Center are useless.”

Idin Afsadi, the Iranian ambassador to the UN, asked Muhaimin, “Are you being successful in other areas of the operation? Are you securing more ground and isolating these pockets of resistance so that we can move forward with Agenda 21?”

“The short answer is yes. We have a great number of isolated pockets of resistance, but putting that aside, we have relocated several million, but keep in mind that the US population was over three hundred million, and ten percent of those are veterans. In addition, roughly one million active-duty military personnel are actively aiding in the resistance. It’s true that they are scattered and leaderless, but effective nonetheless.”

“Iran’s military analyst has advised me that the US Navy had a sizeable fleet in the Pacific. It is now my understanding that what we thought to be a problem with the EMP attack may have actually worked in our favor. Executive Commander Muhaimin, you have never operated with advanced technological systems, and you have been successful. Why do you feel so attached to these systems, and can you return to your roots as a guerilla fighter and use your primitive skills to defeat the American resistance?”

The statement just made by Afsadi was true. Muhaimin found himself in retrospection wondering why he had allowed himself to become as the Americans were. He had always hated the US for their reliance on technology and fossil fuels. He believed the US to be the great Satan and had somehow allowed that spirit to affect himself. Now he was finding that the very shoes of the people he hated were on his own feet.

“You’re correct, Ambassador Afsadi. I do not need to rely upon technology, but I do need troop strength. I am asking the council to send more troops to aid in this operation. Further use of advanced weapon systems are not needed or being requested.”

Ambassador Makarovich interrupted by saying, “Request denied. You have the full might of the United Nations locked down in this operation. There are urgent matters elsewhere that need our supervision and you are taking up our time. Good day, General Muhaimin.”

Makarovich disconnected the signal to the White House Situation Room. As Muhaimin stood there looking at the blank spot in space where the hologram had once lit up the room, he was irate at the disrespect he was shown by Makarovich, especially the way he spoke the last word and slapped him in the face with terminating the signal.

Everybody in the room dared not to look at him and they continued to work as if they heard and saw nothing. The silence was interrupted by the sound of a federal employee typing on a keyboard. Muhaimin snapped out of his blank stare into space and pulled out his pistol. Walking out of the room, the employees heard two gunshots, but nobody dared to move to see what had happened outside of the door.