Whiskey Black Book Set: The Complete Tyrant Series (Box Set 1) (73 page)

When Cox had witnessed the total annihilation of the UN ground forces, he gave the order to clear off the roadway. The victory was reported back to General James, who made a regimental announcement and turned the radio over to Colonel Charles S. Buchanan.

An Undisclosed Location Near Provo, South Dakota

Charles Buchanan took the microphone.

“Marines, somewhere between tyranny and liberty, you’ll find two defining forces, control and patriots. The one takes and the other gives. The reason our nation was great wasn’t because of superior numbers. It was because at the heart of each American patriot was an overwhelming desire to lay down the ultimate sacrifice—their lives in exchange for liberty. Liberty to possess our own homes, our own property, and our own selves; to reap what we sow and to enjoy the fruits of our labors. That has been taken from us, and the time is at hand to do as our forefathers did so that their sons and daughters could be free. Gentlemen, we owe it to our ancestors, who fought and died for this liberty, to return it to the cause for which they died.”

Northwest of South Holland, Illinois

Nathan and his men had spent the last two hours weighing the pros and cons of assaulting the FEMA Region Five compound versus joining back up with Buchanan to assist in the formation of an effective insurgency against the current hostile takeover. Nathan was dead set on taking out the FEMA compound because it was the mission they had set out to accomplish from the beginning. Jessica, Denny, and Rory were with him, and they had made that clear. Sergeant Banks sideswiped Nathan by suggesting they go with Captain Richards to join forces with the Marines in South Dakota. Nathan reminded Banks that it was Buchanan who had assigned him and the rest of the Marines to stay with him until they had reached Chicago, but Banks countered by reminding Nathan that that was before Buchanan’s mission had changed, not to mention the fact that they were practically at Chicago’s doorstep.

The disagreement continued until Rory reminded them what was happening at the crematorium.

“Goose Island can wait! There are thousands of those shipping containers sitting on the banks and on the train tracks. They’re on the lakeshore being unloaded as we speak. Inside each of them are people. Those people are our brothers and our sisters; they’re our daughters, our sons, our mothers, our fathers, our friends, and they’re being euthanized like rabid dogs.”

Rory clearly had everybody’s attention. He would pause for a second as he spoke just to look into their eyes while he said what was in his heart. He was clearly very passionate about what he was saying. He was also a gifted preacher and knew exactly how to tug on the cords of their hearts. He would watch their facial expressions, their body language, and any telltale signs that they were showing human emotion. Rory knew he had to appeal to their humanity and to remind them that they were not animals, not yet.

“If we shut down that kill zone—” he started to say.

“Then we can rejoin Buchanan and come back for the headquarters,” Nathan interrupted, his thoughts on his deceased sister, Katie, and Denny’s deceased sister, Heather, both killed by raiders months earlier.

“Exactly!”

Nathan looked to Banks for approval.

Banks nodded.

“Okay then, it’s settled. We take out that kill zone then rally on Buchanan.”

Banks looked back to the Marines then held up a hand signal for them to rally on his position. Once the Marines were gathered on him, he got a head count, and then everybody returned to their vehicles. Banks was comfortable knowing they had a battalion-sized unit full of US and UN equipment that had been seized from conquered UN forces on their trek from southern Illinois. Along the way they had accrued a great number of civilians that supported their efforts and accepted the challenge to restore the constitutional law of the land. Among them, he had strong leaders like Nathan Roeh and what was left of his Southern Illinois Home Guard group. Together, they jokingly called themselves the posse. Most recently, they had accepted Troy and his three-percenters group into the posse. With all the militia members, Marines, and unclassified men and women that wanted to join the fight, Sergeant Banks was estimating three hundred fighters and a total of forty HMMWVs. The HMMWVs were a mixed batch of M998 troop carriers, M1043 hard tops, for heavy gun and TOW mounts, and the UN-captured Hummers that nobody but the civilians wanted to drive.

Captain Richards, Nathan, Troy, and Sergeant Banks pulled their thoughts together to briefly come to a consensus that it would be wise to get more organized before any type of assault would be initiated. Each agreed that it would be prudent to call their groups together before they regrouped to inform them one last time of the upcoming and imminent loss of life. This would allow for a better idea of who they could count on and exactly what numbers they had to work with when the operation began.

Captain Richards was the ranking officer, so naturally they all agreed to give him the floor. After everybody was gathered together in a place where they could hear, the group silenced themselves so Captain Richards could speak.

“I don’t find it ironic that I met this preacher not long ago.” Captain Richards paused to point to Rory Price. “He’s been a valuable piece of the equation, and I’m sure his prayers have been influential for God’s protection of our efforts. Since we picked him up, we’ve learned of at least two living Joint Chiefs of Staff and their location. We also met these men—” Captain Richards leaned forward and motioned towards Nathan, Troy, and Banks, who were all standing near one another “—who have brought with them much-needed weapons, ammo, and … oh yeah, they saved our lives,” he joked.

The group lightly chuckled.

“Listen, here’s the bottom line. Just a few miles from here, there’s a FEMA/UN-controlled Human Handling Center and some kind of incinerator that they’re using to help control the population. The goal is to close in on this incinerator, destroy it, then move on towards South Dakota, where we have learned of a very large group of Marines, at least five times the size of this one, that has dared to challenge the tyranny of this government. There will be blood and loss of lives, but there will also be liberty. Thomas Jefferson once said that the tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants. Now, I’m paraphrasing that, but I need all of you to understand that that tree may be heavily fertilized this evening. If we are successful, we will have saved thousands and perhaps even reunite some of you with loved ones that were taken and have been missing for some time now. We’re running out of time, and we need to know which of you plan on seeing this through until the end?”

Richards waited and watched the crowd. Prominent members of the posse also took a moment to look about. To their amazement, nobody left, but a couple people put their hands in the air.

“Do you have a question, sir?” Richards asked.

A rough-looking man with long gray hair and matching full beard said, “Yes.” He was wearing an olive drab coat with old-style woodland camouflage trousers. His jacket had subdued US flag patches and the Roman numeral III with thirteen stars encircling it. In the days leading up to the Flip, this man would have been considered by the government as a hostile, an antagonizing member of the patriot movement hell-bent on
abusing his First Amendment Right to free speech
for the purpose of toppling the government. He would have been listed in government watch lists as a domestic terrorist.

“Yeah, let’s stop this jaw jabbering and get back in the fight,” he exclaimed.

“We will, sir, but first we have to iron out some details.” Richards pointed to the other man with a raised hand. “You, sir, with the gray hoodie.”

“What are our assets? Do we even know what we’re up against?”

“Excellent question. We will send scouts into the area to determine what we’re up against. Whatever it is, I am sure we have superior training.”

The man in the gray hoodie interrupted. “I have been here since day one. I have a horse in this race, as do most of the people here. I’ve been with Nathan for a long time, and I know he’s a capable leader, but our equipment is old—it’s failing. I have a Colt rifle that hasn’t been cleaned in weeks. I’m out of gun lube, and not just me, but others are too. One of these guys recently had to dump his rifle because his gas rings broke.”

“I understand your frustrations, sir, and that’s why I’m going to ask those of you who have confidence in not only yourself but also your equipment to step forward. All the rest of you can be given alternate tasks. We can all have a role to play, and nobody will be deemed insignificant.”

Nathan, Denny, Jess, and Tori volunteered themselves to scout the crematorium, as it had accurately been titled by Rory. He was with the group as a guide to the location. Rory led them to East Chicago, to the top of a building that sat near the corner of Columbus and Kennedy Streets. The entire area had a thin layer of soot that blanketed everything in sight. Even their footsteps left imprints wherever they walked.

Below them and to the east, there were hundreds if not thousands of empty train cars that had come to a stop at some kind of interchange. Even farther east, there was a building with a cloud of smoke that was billowing up ash. It was those ashes that rained down across the city and the surrounding suburbs. The building was hopping with activity. They could see cranes hard at work lifting shipping containers and carefully lowering them into a position where they connected with the main structure. Then there was another machine that was driven into place by an operator and used to attach to the end of the shipping container. It was a tractor-looking device that was driven forward, forcing anything or anyone that was inside of it to empty out into the main structure.

“That’s gotta be it,” Nathan exclaimed.

“All I see are four guard towers,” Denny added.

“We can put snipers into positions overwatching each of the towers.”

“Take them out at once?” Tori said. “I like that.”

Jess and Tori made eye contact. Jess was starting to be more accepting of Tori, despite her random nightmares.

Tori gave a hint of a smile at Jess, then added, “Whatever we do, just make sure I’m on board for the infiltration portion of phase two.”

“We can discuss that when we get back to the others, but yeah, I’m definitely in as well,” Nathan responded.

They sat on top of this building for a couple hours and cautiously watched to determine any plausible threats that might arise within the compound. Nathan was dismayed at the fact the security was so minimal. Every once in a while, armed guards would walk out of the main structure. They always exited in pairs and then made rounds together. One faced inward and the other toward the fenced perimeter. The guards appeared to be different people for each round that was made.

“There’s something about this whole thing that makes me uncomfortable.”

“Like what, boss?” Denny asked.

“It just seems all too easy. If this was my outfit, I’d definitely have more security.”

“You’ve got to consider there’s been a serious drawdown of troops recently,” Rory said.

“And we don’t know how many guards are in the main building,” Denny added.

“Munsaf,” Tori said out of the blue.

“Huh,” Jess nastily said back at her.

“Captain Munsaf might be the key to why we’ve been seeing less troops. I say we get back to him and ask him some more questions.”

“You mean so
you can ask him some more questions
,” Jess bantered, referring to her bloodthirsty desire to interrogate.

“Well, yeah.”

“She’s got a good point,” Nathan said. “Let’s get back to the others, share what we have, and then develop a plan of attack.”

“Let’s do it,” Jess said.

NORAD

“Sir, we’re confirming reports of mass movement south from Rapid City, South Dakota,” a second lieutenant at the controls called out.

Major Hodges was sipping a hot fresh brew of coffee from his favorite mug. He had been taking turns with Admiral Dixon in overseeing the UN activity. He and the admiral had agreed to send an emissary to Black Hills. They figured it wise and prudent to have a private meeting rather than to relay their plans for a counteroffensive over the radio.

“What do you mean by
mass movement
?” he asked.

“A convoy of several hundred vehicles, comprised of buses, HMMWVs, ACPs, etc.”

The major put his coffee mug down and rushed over to where the second lieutenant was sitting. He looked over his shoulder and tarried while taking in the size of the movement.

“If those vehicles are loaded down with troops, we can expect a force of four thousand, sir.”

“Have you been able to determine their course? Destination? Anything?” the major asked.

“Sir, they appear to be on a direct path to Hot Springs. Estimations show they will arrive in less than an hour.”

Startled by the turn of events, Major Hodges hurriedly turned about and pulled his walkie-talkie up to his mouth.

“Sir, you might want to come up a little early.”

“What is it?”
The voice rang out from the speaker of the handheld device.

“The troops the Ospreys brought in appear to have been an advance party. Satellites are showing advancing troops. At least the size of two regiments. They’ll make their destination in less than an hour.”

“What’s their destination?”

“Sir, Hot Springs.”

No sooner than Hodges spoke the previous two words, Dixon came roaring in. He took his place before the screen that displayed the satellite imagery.

“Hot Springs must have been their predetermined rally and staging zone for their attack on Black Hills.”

“Orders?” Hodges asked.

“They’re over an hour away. We can’t send troops, so that’s off the table. We have to send fighters in.”

“But once we revealed ourselves, they’ll know our location and what side we’re on.”

“We don’t have any other choice, Major. Four thousand men against two thousand! That’s what we’re looking at here. We have to soften those transports, and that’ll give our Marine friends a fighting chance.”

“Should we advise them of the impending attack?”

“Yes, get me Whiskey Black.”

An Undisclosed Location near Black Hills, South Dakota

“Whiskey Black from Iron Horse. Over,”
General John James’s radio blasted.

Belt McKanty was closest to the radio. Sergeant Hammel’s job was to monitor the radio, but he was indisposed. Belt grabbed the radio and picked up the microphone.

“This is Whiskey Black. Over.”

“Whiskey Black from Iron Horse, our envoy is still hours away from your location, and you have incoming from the north. Approximately four thousand bravo hotels. They’re heading in from Rapid City. Over.”

Belt was taken aback by the sheer number of incoming fighters. His microphone hand lowered from his face as his look went blank. Belt wasn’t experienced in ground combat, so naturally, the force sounded overwhelming. He collected himself and turned about to see John and
Rick
 returning to the room. The general first noticed the flush look on Belt’s face.