Whiskey Black Book Set: The Complete Tyrant Series (Box Set 1) (82 page)

Chicago, Illinois

The
 morning couldn’t come any quicker for Nathan. He had kept watch over Denny as he slept the entire night; thoughts of Jess, her life and death, were all he could think about—that and an occasional excitement about rejoining with the posse and whoever Buchanan was bringing back with him.

He missed Tori and looked forward to seeing Banks again. They hadn’t been apart that long, but given the circumstances, it felt like an eternity. This night dragged on for what felt like a week. Every creak in the floor, every sound in the walls, and every single word that was spoken by the guards, who were roaming freely in the hallways, brought with them a heightened sense of anticipation, like something was about to happen. The worst feeling amidst all this was the fact that he and Denny had no means to defend themselves against the bad guys.

He spent his waking hours reminiscing about the Southern Illinois Home Guard, as it used to be called. He thought about where all the individuals of the group might have been if it weren’t for the fact that they were wise enough to keep unregistered weapons and ammunition. Had they been unwise, they would have surrendered soon after the Flip, or maybe even been killed altogether by the Southside Raiders or some other armed group.

All the years of prepping and getting mentally prepared for such eventualities were only half of the equation. Survival skills were required after the climactic events that brought about an apocalyptic America. When it became a post-apocalyptic America, the real difficulties began. Anybody could prep, but Nathan was the glue that held the Southern Illinois Home Guard together. He was the leader they needed and the man that turned a vision into a reality. Not only did he prepare his members, but when the storms came, the preparation paid off.

Of course there were casualties; many friends were lost along the way. His near-death rooftop experience with Denny had caused him to think of some of those old friends. In moments like those, he had to dig deep to find a reason to keep fighting. Loss was all a part of a much larger narrative. If people gave up after the loss of a friend or a family member, what was the point of trying? Loss was inevitable, but it was the price of securing a future free from tyranny for the generations that walked down the trodden trails the forefathers had laid; and now, Nathan and Denny were walking those trails. They were a little grown over from years of neglect, but when they stood tall enough, they could see where the old trails led them, and the destination was worth the fight even if they wouldn’t get to see it with their own eyes.

The roaring of the largest convoy ever to be heard by Nathan’s ears was lightly shaking the walls of the dilapidated building they had spent the night in. Nathan jumped to his feet and began kicking Denny in an attempt to wake him up. Denny was startled awake by the impact of the kick and quickly jumped to his feet.

The door flung open and Markus came running in. He handed Nathan and Denny their rifles. Both men happily received them. While Markus was remarking on Nathan’s honesty, both Nathan and Denny were checking their ammunition. Nothing had been removed or tampered with, from what Nathan could tell. Nathan wanted to shoot Markus right there on the spot, but he was nervous that his firing pin might have been tampered with or even removed. Attempting to fire a rifle with a missing firing pin would produce nothing but a clicking sound. Nathan tapped the retaining pin on the backside of the receiver with his knuckle to expose the bolt. He pulled it out to make a visual check on the bolt carrier. It all seemed good to go. He looked at Denny and nodded his head.

Markus was so excited about the liberation army that he couldn’t stop talking. Nathan had to interrupt him.

“Show us the way out of here and we’ll introduce you to some friends of ours.”

“Right this way,” Markus said.

Nathan and Denny stepped out into the hallway, and the guards were gone. They followed him to the emergency exit at the stairwell, where all three went down the stairs. Nathan could hear the convoy was a very long one. The sounds of the passing military vehicles could be heard moving from the west in an easterly direction.

“Your friends are early, Nathan,” Markus said as they ran down.

Nathan had nothing more to say to Markus. The only thing keeping him from shooting the cannibal was a lack of visual on Buchanan’s group. The nine hours had not quite passed, so Nathan was concerned that the convoy might not be his friends. Unless he could see them with his own eyes, he would not make a critical move that could cost him and Denny their lives; so he waited until he made the final descent to ground level and stepped outside to see the group.

The convoy was on the move. There were Marines in the turrets behind the .50-caliber machine guns, TOWs, and other heavy weapons. Once in a while, somebody from the convoy would see Nathan and give a shout, but the convoy wasn’t stopping. It just kept on trucking through the city streets.

“Why aren’t they stopping?” Markus asked.

“Because they don’t know friend from foe. If they just sit still, they’ll be idle targets,” Nathan answered.

“We’re going to have to get in line behind them,” Denny added.

They could see a string of civilian vehicles in the back of the convoy.

“That’s it,” Nathan said. “That’s where we’ll jump in.” Nathan turned and looked at Markus. “Where’s your car?”

“In the alley,” he answered.

“Rally all your help, and for God’s sake, call the people on the tenth floor of every building. We need all the help we can get.”

Markus had never told the people of the tenth floor what their actual purpose was, so Markus could rally them at will. They were all very loyal to Markus and to the Syndicate in general. After all, they were aiding them by giving them provisions and finding them homes; at least that was the great lie. In truth, they were slaughtering them and cannibalizing them for a means to survive; a sin that Nathan wasn’t going to let go unaccounted for. At the moment, he was biding his time. He would get his chance to bring the chapter on the Syndicate story to a close.

Nathan and Denny began their walk toward the convoy. There were so many new faces, they could hardly believe their eyes. The sheer size of the convoy was enough to bring a smile back to Nathan’s and Denny’s faces.

By the time Nathan and Denny made it to the convoy, the string of civilian vehicles had arrived. They stopped and asked Nathan and Denny if they wanted a ride. Of course, they were more than happy to step into the back of a flatbed truck, where other rugged men were sitting with Old Glory flying high at full mast. The vehicle took off, jerking Nathan and Denny a little bit, as they had not fully settled when the truck’s driver accelerated. Nathan caught himself on Denny, who caught himself on another. Once they were settled, Nathan patted Denny on the shoulder and said, “Now we’re back on track.”

Denny smiled at him and asked, “What about Markus and the Syndicate?”

“I figure he’s going to be showing up at the rally point and start throwing our names around. He’ll come to us, and when he does, we’ll get our chance. We have to be careful about it; nobody knows anything except his armed men and us.”

“Do you think he’s legit about helping us?”

“I do, but it amounts to a hill of beans when weighed against his crimes. He’s an animal and I intend to slay him like an animal.”

Denny just nodded and looked out into the morning air. From the open ride in the back of the truck, they could see many bodies lying in the streets. There were survivors, though. Many of them looked timid and afraid. No doubt they were scared of the military vehicles; not knowing their intentions made them apprehensive.

As Denny looked out over Nathan’s shoulder into the distance, about a hundred yards out, a familiar face caught his attention. Nathan saw Denny’s expression. It was a blend of human emotions. Nathan whipped around to see if he could spot what Denny was seeing; and sure enough, there he was in digital fatigues and armed, with several of his cohorts—the Fist.

Nathan turned and attempted to jump out of the moving truck, but Denny grabbed him by the coat and pulled him backwards into the midst of the group of men. Nathan was struggling to free himself. The other men didn’t know what was wrong with Nathan, but seeing how Denny was restraining him could only mean that he was trying to save him from something. The men assisted Denny in holding Nathan down. All the men heard was screams about Jess and the Fist. Occasionally he would tell them to let him go, but Denny would chase that with a comment to remain still and wait for the right time.

After five more minutes, the convoy began slowing to stop. Nathan had been released, but he wasn’t acting like himself. His mind was on killing the Fist. With the convoy coming to a stop, Nathan knew it was his time to find Buchanan and ready a strike team to find the Fist and kill him.

Buchanan was in one of the front vehicles with General James. When the vehicle reached Navy Pier, it did a U-turn and switched course toward the rear of the convoy. This was done to bring as much of the convoy into the Pier area as possible. The truck Nathan and Denny had been riding in was still heading toward the pier, but the front of the convoy was now approaching them, coming from the east. As if planned, Buchanan’s vehicle came to a stop right next to Nathan and Denny.

Buchanan made eye contact with Nathan first, as he was stepping out of his HMMWV. Denny was wary that Nathan would take off back toward the Fist, so he jumped over the side of the truck as soon as Nathan did in order to stay within arm’s reach. When Nathan’s feet hit the ground, he didn’t take off, and that made Denny feel a bit more at ease.

Nathan walked up to Buchanan and punched him square in the mouth. Denny ended up grabbing Nathan anyway. He wasn’t expecting that to happen and figured he most likely did because of the way he had changed the plan. If he had stuck to the plan as agreed, then Jess would still be alive and Nathan wouldn’t be acting like such a wreck.

Buchanan took the punch, but other Marines were present to grab Nathan and throw him on the ground, where they began punching him in a mob-like mentality. There was some shouting from Denny and a female voice that was heard pushing through the crowd; it was Tori. She got between Nathan and the other Marines, assisting Nathan to his feet. The Marines would have pushed them all aside and held them at gunpoint if not for Buchanan’s order.

“At ease, Marines,” he said. “It’s okay. I know this man. He’s a devil dog, old school like me.”

Buchanan was rubbing his jaw and checking his lip for blood.

The Marines backed away while Tori and Denny lifted Nathan to his feet.

“Am I to understand you clocked me because my mission changed, Marine?”

“Your mission was to meet for a ground assault on FEMA camp five. You didn’t show, we were captured, Jess was killed, people are missing, and—”

Tori interrupted Nathan, “Jess was killed?”

“Yeah,” he answered. “Gutted right in front of me; then beheaded,” Nathan answered. His eyes were squarely locked on to Buchanan’s eyes. “Had you been there, she would still be alive.”

“The mission evolved, Marine. Missions aren’t static. I would expect you to know this. They change; they evolve; they’re fluid,” Buchanan countered.

General John James was standing nearby. He heard the whole thing. “Charles, who’s your friend?”

“This is Nathan Roeh, the Marine I told you about from southern Illinois.”

Nathan was taken aback by Buchanan’s reference to him.

“Nathan, meet the commandant of the Marine Corps, General John James.”

Nathan shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“There’s no need to call me sir. I can see how you treat high-ranking officers.”

Nathan ignored the comment by turning to Buchanan and saying, “You can make it up.”

“Here it comes,” Tori blurted out.

“The man that killed Jess is less than a mile in that direction,” Nathan said, pointing back in the approximate direction to where he and Denny had last seen the Fist. “We saw him while we were approaching the RP.”

RP was military jargon for rally point, a place designated for all members to meet back up; in this case, Navy pier was the rally point.

“What are you asking, Marine?”

“I want the men you gave me before. They know me and I know them. We can track this guy down and kill him.”

Banks was sitting in the mobile command unit with Hammel. The side door of the truck was open, and they heard Nathan’s request.

“What’s his name, Nathan? I’ll see what we can pull up on him,” Banks called out from the MCU.

“I don’t know his name, but he called himself the Fist; and he was pretty proud of it.”

“Searching,” Hammel replied.

Nathan turned back to Buchanan and said, “This guy had a team and they weren’t your average ragheads; they were trained.”

Buchanan turned back toward the general and said, “It’s up to you, John. My people are now under your command.”

The general opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly interrupted by the words from Sergeant Hammel.

“The Fist is an alias. Rasoul Konat is his real name, and he’s an Iranian spec ops commando. This man is bad, Nathan. You’re lucky he only killed Jess.”

“All the more reason for us to take him out now!” Nathan said. “If we don’t, he’s going to prove to be a major problem down the road.”

“We’re already on mission, son,” John answered.

“Missions change, General! They evolve!” Nathan said, looking at John, then back at Buchanan. “Aren’t those your words, Buchanan?”

Buchanan knew Nathan was using his own dogma against him, but he was no longer in charge; John James was.

“It’s not my call, Marine.”

“Fine, I’ll do it myself.”

Nathan pushed through the crowd and began walking toward the Fist. Denny looked at Tori and then at Buchanan and said, “Nathan’s my best friend, in life and death. If he’s going, I’m going.”

“It’d be nice if you joined us, Buchanan,” Tori said. “He’s always spoken highly of you, but you’ve managed to disappoint me.”