by Brian Cotton
Patriots & Tyrants
By
Brian Cotton
Copyright © 2013 by Brian Cotton
Cover Art © 2013 by Greg Dejaynes
[email protected]
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing by the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Also by Brian Cotton:
Rebels & Lies
For Randy,
Keep up the good fight, brother
“The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time by the blood of patriots and tyrants…”
-Thomas Jefferson
Table of Contents
.01
.02
.03
.04
.05
.06
.07
.08
.09
.10
.11
.12
.13
.14
.15
.16
.18
.19
.20
.21
.22
.23
.24
.25
.26
.27
.28
.29
.30
.31
.32
.33
.34
.35
.36
.37
.38
.39
.40
.41
.42
.43
.44
.45
.46
.47
.48
.49
.50
.51
.52
.53
.54
.55
.56
.57
.58
.59
.60
.61
.62
.63
.64
.65
.66
.67
.EPILOGUE
.Acknowledgments
About the Author
.01
Her bike wouldn’t start. What a hell of a place for the once great piece of machinery to just die. She slammed her black booted right foot down on the kick starter again and all she got for her effort was the same sound of the engine trying to come back to life. Any minute—no second—now and the Agents would file out of the government complex, ready for the kill. She moved her black helmet covered head to get a look behind her. Sure enough, out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Agents running through the automatic sliding doors, guns drawn. She tried one last desperate attempt to get the bike to start. Finally, after she heard the sound of automatic gunfire, the bike decided it was okay to leave. She pulled back on the throttle and the bike rocketed forward. As the bullets whizzed all around her, she said a silent prayer that none of them would hit her.
She still had too many things to do before her eventual death.
***
“What do you mean there’s a problem?” Kaspar demanded after he took out another Agent with a three round burst to the chest.
“The explosives…” a young voice said into Kaspar’s ear. “The timer isn’t starting.”
Kaspar moved back down behind the cover of a metal desk. The sound of bullets flying all around no longer scared him. He had been around this type of work for far too long now. The only thing that frightened Kaspar, at this point, were neophyte kids who couldn’t do under pressure what they could do in a silent room. All this planning, plotting out every move and action, and the twenty year old kid called Buck was tanking under the pressure.
The rebel moved up from cover again and fired away another short burst, taking out another one. Just one more left. His partner beside him, Jeremy Steinner, ended the gun battle with a perfect head shot. Kaspar stood up fully. He still had his PSD shouldered, the barrel pointed in front of him. Through the sight of the weapon, he saw the dim lit laboratory, their objective was inside. He checked behind each metal desk as they slowly moved forward. Steinner kept his attention on both doors, sweeping from front to back while they moved.
“Buck,” Kaspar said, as calmly as he could when all he really wanted to do was throw every profanity in the English language at the kid. “Take your time. Breathe. Are there any Agents close by?”
Static and a brief moment of silence. “No, I think your girlfriend did a good job creating a diversion.”
“Was she hit or anything when you last saw her?”
“No, sir.”
“Okay, focus on that bomb. We’ve got ours.”
The white door in front of them opened automatically upon approach. There was only the laboratory inside, no Agents, just the computers and devices meant to destroy women’s fertility. In the very back corner they saw the box where the “new drug” was being made. Clarke had come across Intel that the USR had made a new kind of drug that stopped women from getting pregnant. Only this one had gotten, what that bastard Danny had called, “all the little bugs” worked out. There were now no deadly side effects. But, like Krys always told him, it still wasn’t right what they were trying to do.
Steinner moved in quick. He got down on one knee and started to pull wires and explosives out of his bag. Kaspar moved to one of the computers and stuck a flash drive into one of the ports. His focus then moved towards the door in front of the lab. He kept a close eye, and a trained gun, on it. He was ready for anyone to come through and, as soon as an Agent did, that enemy would be dropped like so many others.
He heard Steinner move around the explosives behind him. He took a peek backward through his tinted lenses to see his partner was nearly done. Steinner placed the plastic explosives against the black boxes where the drug was being manufactured. He was about to set the timer when Kaspar heard something in his ear.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Buck said in between quick gasps. “My mind is going blank.”
“Now, you listen to me,” Kaspar said, eyes trained on the door again. “Your only function in life right now is to set those charges, you get me? You’ve done this a hundred times before. This time it’s for real. Do what you do or we’ll leave you here.”
A short pause, “Okay, I’ve got this.”
He’s also got an ass whooping his way when we get back to camp, Kaspar thought. He heard Steinner behind him get up and move to his side. Kaspar reached towards the flash drive in the port and yanked it out. He placed it into a pocket in his flak jacket; right next to the yellow fabric which had slowly begun to tear apart and fade away.
“Charges set, we’re ready to go.” Steinner said.
“Good work. We’ve got to move to Buck’s position right now.”
The two started to move forward with a quick, steady pace. Their guns were shouldered as they moved. Steinner said, “That damn kid is gonna
get us killed.”
“It was your job to train him.”
“He’s done fine in training.”
“Which means,” Kaspar said as they swept from left to right once out of the hallway. “You didn’t do your job in preparing the kid for the real thing.”
The two quit talking as they approached the lobby. They moved down to a low crouch and continued their forward momentum to Buck. Kaspar moved his eyes over to the front windows. He saw Agents fire away with their automatics at something or someone. It had to have been Krys. The fact that they were still firing meant that she wasn’t dead, yet. He couldn’t worry about her right now, though. She could take care of herself.
They moved down the narrow hallway and took the first left. Inside the lab, they saw Buck fiddling around with his explosives. Though the mask over his face covered up his emotions, Kaspar knew what the kid was feeling. That feeling of overwhelming hopelessness that he felt the first time he pointed a gun at a paper target. But, Buck knew the stakes and he guaranteed the others that he could do the job when it mattered. So far, he was failing.
“Steinner,” Kaspar whispered. “Go help him out, I’ll cover the door.”
“Roger.”
Steinner moved in quick and startled Buck when he touched him on the back. Not a good thing when the person he scared was nervously putting together explosives. Kaspar kept a watchful eye on the door. He couldn’t help but to think of Krys, even though at this point in the mission, his focus needed to be that door. She was good on the bike, he knew, but the sheer amount of Agents firing automatics in her direction put her odds of survival at critical levels. He just hoped she was long gone by now.
“What’s the problem, buddy?” Steinner asked as he took out some tools from his flak jacket.
“My mind’s all scrambled. I just know that I’m going to screw this up or that Agents are going to storm through here and take me out.”
“Calm down. Me and Kas took out the ones that were left. Coast was clear when we moved in.”
“I know, but shit, this is nerve wracking.”
“Let me help you out.”
Kaspar turned his attention to them. “You two better…”
Out of the corner of his eye, Kaspar saw a squad of Agents move in. His turn was quick and precise. His aim was true as he took out the first Agent. He turned his gun to another who tried to move in and delivered him the same fate. Kaspar then began to back pedal towards the metal desks. He took cover behind one of them and started to fire away at the door.
“You go help Kas, I’ll finish this!” Steinner yelled. “Let’s hope you remember how to shoot.”
“Yes..sir.” Buck replied.
Buck aimed his gun and fired at the door. Any moment now and the squad of Agents would converge on them. Kaspar heard Steinner’s order. He really was going to kick Buck’s ass in this life or the next. Kaspar aimed his weapon and fired at the Agents who moved into the room. The diversion had run its course and they should have been long gone by now. He took two of them out and saw that Buck took out a third, though less precise than Kaspar. He injured the Agent enough to take him out of the fight. Kaspar moved back down and fought back the terrible thoughts of Krys’s fate.
In the back of the office, Steinner worked at a feverous pace. He was careful to not be in such a hurry that he screwed something up with the configuration of the bomb. Gunfire now filled the room. The Agents began to move in faster than the two rebels could handle. Steinner needed to get back in the game. He finished putting together the explosive then started the timer. He set it for ten minutes then put together a little boobie trap for any poor son of a bitch that tried to dismantle it.
Steinner dropped his tools then raised his PSD and fired away from a crouched position. He took out an Agent then moved forward with his body low. He found an empty desk to take cover behind.
The scene that began to unfold was way too similar to the last time Kaspar fought with his old partners. He wanted to make sure that Steinner and Buck got out of this alive. There was a determination inside that helped him to aim his weapon and take out as many enemies as possible. He summoned that scrappiness that made him such a great fighter in the ring and had turned him into a pretty damn good soldier. When his mag was dry, Kaspar dropped back behind the desk to reload.
More Agents from the outside started to pour in. There was no way the three of them would survive this alone. Kaspar rose up and before he could aim, he caught an Agent who fired at his position. The rounds clanked all around the metal surface which provided a shield for the ex-prize fighter.
As the Agents began to move in, there was a loud spitting of gunfire coming from the left side of the hallway. The Agents inside turned their attention to it. Buck was able to pick one off just as he turned.
“Now!” Kaspar yelled.
Steinner and Buck joined Kaspar in moving from cover to take out the enemies in the room. The Agents had been flanked from their backside which gave the rebels the edge. Moments later, all the Agents were taken down. A figure standing around five foot six walked into the room, sweeping a P90 around. A much taller figure, who wielded an M16 assault rifle moved in, as well.
“Figured you fellas could use some help.” a familiar female voice said.
“Krys,” Kaspar said, feeling a sense of relief.
“Saving your ass never gets old.” Krys replied.
“We need to move out!” the deep voiced, taller figure cried.
The rebels moved out of the room, maneuvering their way through the scattered USR corpses on the crimson stained tile floor. Through the lobby windows, Kaspar could see a stolen USR mounted vehicle which had an American flag painted over the USR insignia. The rebels moved forward and filed themselves into the vehicle through the back. The driver went into reverse, turned the delivery vehicle around, and then floored it.
Just as the large vehicle struggled to gain forward momentum, the explosions from inside the complex could be heard and felt. The force of the blast caused the back of the vehicle to shake. Kaspar tore off his mask at the same time as Buck. Kaspar stood and moved in with a fury. Buck’s eyes went wide as he tried to move backward. The kid had bronzed skin and jet black hair. Though he was barely twenty, his physique was one of a body builder in training. Buck could handle himself in a fight with Kaspar, but he just lacked the courage to do so.
“I outta kick your ass you dumb mother…” Kaspar started to say.
He felt a hand grab at his shoulder. Kaspar didn’t turn to see who it was, but he stopped. With the tension of the mission still flowing through his veins, and an angry comrade about to kick his ass, Buck was on the verge of tears. Kaspar knew how Buck must have felt about freezing on the mission, but that was all moot to him. The kid nearly got the entire team killed with his sudden forgetfulness. Kaspar finally turned to see who had stopped him. It was Krys.
“Ryan,” she said with a look of concern in her eyes. “Let it go. We made it out, that’s all that matters now.”
“Yeah,” Kaspar said. He moved past her and took a seat at the far end.
“We’ll talk about this later,” the tall figure from before said in Buck’s direction. The figure turned to Kaspar as he took off his mask. Sam Harvey’s bronzed skin gave away his Native American ancestry. Despite approaching his mid-sixties, the man had not a shade of gray in his jet black hair. His face had a scar underneath his left eye, but there were no signs of age there, either. “Kaspar, these kinds of things happen in war. Just remember that you were once a greenhorn.”
“I know, sir, but…”
“No buts. You need to learn to control that anger and empathize with your squad mates. Taking out your anger on him solves nothing.”
“Yes, sir.” Kaspar replied. He crossed his arms over his chest as Krys moved in to console him.
“Buck,” the tall figure said.
“Yes, Father.”
“We’ll talk about this back at camp.”
/>
.02
Christopher Caine looked down from the top floor of the skyscraper that he called home. The rising morning sun beamed through the dark tinted windows. Caine, the unquestioned leader of the USR, looked down at the citizens that he controlled. They looked so tiny from all the way up here, which was fitting, because that was how Caine viewed those down below. They were too small, and too small brained, to be at his level. Watching them scurry about with their insignificant lives brought great joy to the seventy year old.
The feeling that his mental capacity was superior to everyone else around him was unavoidable. He often thought about his great scheme which kept his identity a top secret. All those citizens, and his various puppets in the political spectrum, had no idea who the true ruler was. The only ones who did were few and far between. The majority of those that did were about to join him for a necessary meeting, though Caine was still puzzled why he had to constantly reassure his fellow Elders.
The truth was that he loved living in the top secret USR Headquarters in his private penthouse on this top floor. Everything he ever needed was provided to him. Food, wealth, sex…not a day went by that he didn’t get to enjoy the best things that life had to offer. In fact, he knew that those weren’t really luxuries at all but what he deserved. Never satisfied, he always wanted more of them. The only sadness that he felt was that he wouldn’t be around that much longer to further indulge in his perfect life. For a god amongst men, the only thing that would defeat him was time. Though he was in great health, and shape, for a man his age he still knew that his time would come.
He shook his head at that awful thought and continued his preparations to give a pep talk to his Board of Elders. They all seemed to get bent out of shape over some new attack on a USR complex just hours ago. He still couldn’t figure out how many times he had to tell those people that everything, and everyone, was under control.
Caine turned his attention to the door into the boardroom. The thirteen Elders began to file in and take their designated seats around the large, football shaped table. They were all dressed elegantly, in sharp three piece suits, all made from the best foreign outfitters. All the Elders lived in the same building, only two stories below, and their digs were not nearly as good as Caine’s penthouse, which was how it should be. They had to earn their right, and as far as Caine could tell, none of them would. They would have to kill him first or wait for him to die.
“Thank you all for attending,” Caine said once all the Elders took their seats. They all gave their full, undivided attention to their leader. “I’ll try and make this short.”
“Well,” a middle aged man named Travis Johnson said. “We can start by going over that damned terrorist attack last night.”
Caine pointed his finger. “I’m tired of telling you to not speak out of turn. Now, going on to that point, it was actually the reason for this meeting. I’ve heard some rumblings from some of you that you feel like this whole resistance thing is getting out of control.”
Johnson raised his hand this time. When Caine pointed, he said, “That’s because it is getting out of control. I knew from the get go that this whole ‘Committee’ idea was shit. We armed our enemies and…”
“And, what?” Kerry Blake, Caine’s second in command, demanded. “What have they really accomplished? They’ve blown up a few buildings, sure. Maybe they have caused more damage than we anticipated. But, in the grand scheme of things, we have accomplished our goal. We have spread fear on the citizens and it is those Americans who have taken the blame.”
Caine clapped his hands together. “Well spoken, Kerry. Gentlemen, everything is under control.”
Johnson raised a hand again before talking. “You can’t be serious. We’ve got to take care of this problem. They’ve exposed our population control drug. They’ve discovered each other. And, now, the different rebel groups we armed are banding together…”
“Enough from you,” Caine said with a sharp voice. “You have forfeited your right to speak.”
Caine had to pause for a moment. This Johnson was inching closer and closer to his own, personal, public execution. He never grew used to another person questioning his authority as much as Johnson did. Sometimes, as hard as it was for Caine to admit, Johnson’s points were valid. But, none of that mattered to him. Even if the USR leader was dead wrong, he still expected his men to file in. During his time as a successful politician in the days before the USR up until his time now as ruler of a country, nobody ever questioned him. If they did, there were always dire consequences. After he collected himself, he continued.
“Now, yes, these terrorists have caused some damage. And, like was just said, they have gotten just a little bit out of control. And, yes, we will take care of the problem.”
A younger Elder raised his hand and was given permission to speak. “How do you propose we deal with the problem?”
Caine thought about it for a moment. As much as he hated the Elders sometimes, like today, he still needed them. If he lost even one of them, save Johnson who was too stupid to do anything about it, his sphere of influence would drop. To reassure them was vital. Truth was, he hadn’t really thought on it. In his mind, the more damage the resistance caused, the better it was for the USR as a whole. The more fear they brought about, the more the USR could step in as the heroes to purge that fear. But, as usual, most of the Elders were just too damn short sighted to see it.
“We’ll let them run loose for a little bit longer. Then, we will break their spirit completely.” Caine responded.
“What do you mean?” the young Elder asked.
“They think they have an ace up their sleeves…”
Johnson rose from his chair. “You are getting reckless, Caine! We might need that in the future!”
“That’s it, Johnson!” Caine screamed. “Get him the fuck out of here. You are going to be charged with aiding the resistance. Enjoy your public execution!”
Johnson’s jaw dropped to the floor. With the push of a red button underneath the table, a group of Agents moved in. There was silence in the boardroom. This type of thing was unprecedented. They watched as the Agents grabbed the scared shitless Johnson from underneath his arms and dragged the man out. Johnson started to yell obscenities and how Caine couldn’t do this. What Johnson didn’t understand was that Caine could do this.
And, he took great pleasure in it.
.03
Kaspar searched frantically for Krys in the empty, wide open field. His heart raced and the gun in his hand shook along with the trembles. She was just here a moment ago. Where the hell could she have gone? He ran through the empty fields and found her black Speed Triple parked against a dying tree. He investigated the area for any signs of her. There were no foot prints in the grass. He felt the bike, but it was cold, as if it hadn’t been ridden in years.
“Krys!” Kaspar cried. “Where are you?!”
But, he knew that she was gone.
Kaspar opened his eyes and his head shot up from the pillow. He moved his frozen blue eyes from left to right and realized he was back in the tan colored tent that he shared with Krys. He looked over and saw her next to him. She was still asleep in her black tank and black panties. Kaspar reached over and pulled the green comforter over her. As he did, she rolled over and faced him. Her tired eyes opened and he was greeted with a smile.
“Hey,” Krys said.
“Hey.” Kaspar replied.
Krys noticed the concerned look in Kaspar’s eyes. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just had a nightmare.”
To say that his dream had been a nightmare was an understatement. The last six months that Kaspar spent with Krys were the best of his life. During that time, apart from their battle with the USR, Krys had shown him love like he never experienced before. All those times Mother told him to find someone special and he brushed it off. He could see why she wanted this so bad for him. Without Krys, his hear
t would have that black hole again, but he swore once again that he would not lose her.
Just like with everything else in Kaspar’s life though, he had been dealt a bad hand. She had that poison inside of her still. That drug which the USR dumped into the water supply in the hopes of wiping out a woman’s ability to bear children. The whole thing never made much sense to Kaspar. Why would the USR do this to the people they controlled? He always figured that, even though the USR leaders didn’t care about anyone but themselves, they needed their people to pay them through their high taxes, to suit up as Agents for them. The whole “population problem” didn’t make a lick of sense.
“Was I in it?” Krys asked, her smile gone.
“No,” Kaspar lied. “I was stuck in a battle and couldn’t move. My voice was gone, too, so I couldn’t cry for help.”
Krys’s smile returned. “No Krys to save your ass again?”
Kaspar moved his body closer to her. He loved the feel of her skin as he rubbed up and down her arms with a soft touch. Why couldn’t moments like these last forever? Kaspar moved his head down and kissed her on the forehead. As he played around with her black hair, he noticed something on her neck. After he brushed the hair away from it, what he noticed forced him to wish he was imagining things. But, he wasn’t imagining it at all. It was a small lesion. The edges of it were jagged. On the inside was a brownish yellow crust with cracks all around. Small droplets of blood leaked through them. The reality of their situation hit home once more.
“Is it bad?” Krys asked, noticing Kaspar’s face.
“It’s not too bad,” Kaspar lied again. “You in any kind of pain at all?”
“Just a little bit here and there. Not enough to stop me, though. You know how it is. I have my good days and bad days.”
Kaspar hoped that today wouldn’t be another bad day for her. Maybe she had started to lose track, or didn’t want to face the truth, but her bad days had begun to far outweigh the good ones.
“We’re going to find that cure,” Kaspar replied.
“We can’t even be for sure that there is one.”
Kaspar rubbed his fingertips slow on her cheek. “There has to be one. They couldn’t have made a drug with this kind of an effect without a contingency plan. If all the women got sick, then there would be no one…”
“Isn’t that the point?” Krys interrupted. “To save the world from over population? Look, I just want to live out the rest of my life as best I can. I want to spread the word to as many people who will listen. But, I don’t need to lie to myself with false hope. And, I don’t…”
“There is a cure,” Kaspar’s turn to interrupt. “We just have to find it.”
“Ryan, please.”
Kaspar kissed Krys on her forehead once more and rolled over. She moved in close from behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. He had to come to the conclusion, at some point, that maybe he was lying to himself as much as to Krys. With all the complexes making the drugs that he and the others destroyed, not one of them had a single shred of evidence that even hinted towards a cure. Kaspar just loved Krys so damn much that he didn’t want to lose hope.
He was going to save her…somehow.