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

by L. Douglas Hogan

  She was confident that she could control the patriots from within by controlling their resources. She was wise enough to understand she could not get congressional approval to support her ideals, so she continued to raise taxes and throw more support into welfare programs. She continued to throw her support behind the nanny-state programs until it was no longer sustainable. Her goal, the whole two terms of her presidency, was to bring down America’s outdated form of capitalism and get onboard with the international community. Her second term was almost over when the crowds became uncontrollable and rioting filled every community. The people had grown irate when the welfare funding finally stopped. President Adalyn Baker invoked martial law, suspending elections and seizing every resource the American people needed to survive on their own.

  Next, she would enact Agenda 21 and use her appointed Bureau of Land Management Czar to seize all land by utilizing local and international forces.

  Agenda 21 was a bill signed into action decades earlier. It was basically a volunteer program that worked from the local levels of government and that masqueraded things like “population control” in words like “sustainable growth.” What it really did was take everything from everybody through a system of inventory and control and regional governance.

  Adalyn saw herself as a savior of global sustainability. She knew that the global community would look to her as a hero for finally getting America onboard.

  She assigned czars to virtually every wing of the government and had direct intelligence from each of them. There was nothing happening under her watch that she was not aware of.

  Her plan for ground assistance included the United Nations ground forces. She knew patriots would resist them, mostly in the rural parts of America, where gun control proved most difficult.

  She would utilize the Gulf of Mexico to ferry in troops to the Midwest; Canada from the north; the Atlantic from the east; and the Pacific from the west.

  She had Federal Emergency Management Camps built within the HQ regions and enlarged their previously anticipated capacities. Region I HQ was assigned to Boston, Massachusetts; Region II was New York, New York; Region III was Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; Region IV was Atlanta, Georgia; Region V was Chicago, Illinois; Region VI was Denton, Texas; Region VII was Kansas City, Missouri; Region VIII was Denver, Colorado; Region IX was Oakland, California; and Region X was Bothell, Washington.

  With the anticipated loss of life and relocation process, she suspected high reports of casualties, which she duly noted as an acceptable sacrifice for global management.

  The president held meetings almost daily in the situation room. She knew from the start that her new initiative was going to be a long fight. This day was no different. Adalyn stood up and adjusted her slacks and eyeglasses. She put on her best presidential appearance as she grabbed her classified documents and headed for the door. She was met by several agents that escorted her to the situation room.

  “Gentlemen,” the president said as she entered the room. She was always the last one in. She felt that she should wait on nobody, choosing instead to have them wait on her.

  “Good morning, sir,” the whole room said as she took her position at the head of the table.

  Adalyn looked across the table at all who were present. Once every eye was fixed on her, she looked at the coffee thermos that was sitting in its usual spot right at the head of the table, just forward enough to leave room for her documents folder. Next to it was her coffee cup. Both were neatly situated as she grabbed the thermos and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee. She then looked back at the room of people. “When I appointed regional czars, I did so with confidence that those I selected would perform their tasks explicitly. There are ten of you, each with a director of your own choosing. I elected to allow this privilege to boost your confidence in a team you could trust; and now, it would seem, that might have been the wrong decision.

  “Each of you understands that we cannot maintain regional governance without the support of ground influences. Ground influences should be groups assigned by your directors to motivate the control of the constituents. What we have, instead, are patriots who have a distorted sense of righteousness and outdated ideals.”

  President Baker looked at Regional Czar Five and called him by name, “Czar Jennings.”

  “Yes, sir?” he replied.

  “Since your director seems to be incapable of managing your region under your supervision, I have elected to provide you with one of my choosing. Your previous director is now being celled in the old Ohio State Penitentiary, where he is awaiting relocation protocol. Your new director is now a UN commander by the name of Abdul Muhaimin.

  “As for the rest of you,” Adalyn said as she clasped her hands and began walking around the table, purposefully attempting to intimidate everybody by walking behind them as they sat, “every time you lose control of your region, whether through loss of relocation protocol or loss of assets, your director will be replaced by somebody whom you cannot command. That’s after strike one. Strike two will intimately involve you in the relocation protocol. Do I make myself clear?”

  Everybody in the room replied with a passionate, “Yes, sir.”

  “Goals for sustainable growth can only be met through relocation, relocation through control, control through ground influences, and ground influence through control and inventory. Gentlemen, if we cannot maintain a firm grasp, we cannot accomplish our goals. The loss of several hundred constituents is a step backwards. Sustainable development cannot be attained with these patriots running amuck. They will resist and grow like a cancer. They have to be stomped out swiftly before it can spread. Monitor your regions and make sure it does not happen again.”

  With that, Adalyn picked up her coffee, now cool enough to drink. She took a sip and walked out of the situation room.

  Upon returning to the oval office, Adalyn opened the door to find General Muhaimin exactly where she left him. He was standing behind the desk in a casual position with his back to the door, looking out the window, and his hands clasped behind his back. “You made the arrangements, then,” he said, in his rugged and crackled Middle Eastern accent.

  “I did. I hope this satisfies your request,” she said.

  General Muhaimin turned around and faced her. “My troops, which were killed for a lack of your leadership, cannot be repaid by the blood of your patriot vermin. My troops were assets. Your desire for global recognition will cost me men. So far, President Baker—” He stopped and walked into her personal space, and then continued, “—you stand to lose very little. I will be satisfied when my task here is finished and I can leave this unclean land that you have come to call the Federal States of America.” General Muhaimin sidestepped Adalyn and walked out the door.

  The general had always been an ambitious man. When he’d fought in the jihadist wars, he only thought of his future as a general. But once he had attained his goal, he moved on to larger ambitions. The general wanted to do something on a global scale. His ambitions had no limit and he was the type of person that would do whatever he had to do to reach his goal. Sometimes the general would play it by ear, and other times he would work his will systematically, and at yet other times, unintentional outcomes seemed to work into his plans.

  The general was hard to read. He did not keep an inner circle, he never said more than he had to, and nothing he did was without reason. When he wanted to be diplomatic, he was as sly as a fox and would appear as harmless as a dove. This was how the general manipulated his way into anything he wanted. He was a narcissistic man from head to toe, but only his subordinates saw this. His superiors didn’t see his antisocial personality disorder. He played them like fiddles. He saw them all as puppets to the working of his own will and would use them to further his own objectives.

  CHAPTER IX

  Just South of Peoria, Illinois, October 25

  Weapons Company 2/24 had been driving along the Illinois River for hours. At random times, they had small combat engagement
s against rioters that attacked them and bandits trying to take their weapons, vehicles, and gear. Whenever these situations presented themselves, Lieutenant Colonel Buchanan always chose to withdraw over shooting at fellow Americans.

  Commanding Marines, in the situation given, was not what any officer would sign up for. Lieutenant Colonel Buchanan was very patriotic and knew tyranny when he saw it. It was a big decision leading the men against commands from Washington. When the Flip went down, many enlisted and command staff abandoned their oath. Many held true and saw it as their duty to restore the Constitution. Those who left returned home to their families, while others forsake that option, understanding that their children would not have the liberties they enjoyed and learned about in early America. And there were others that had nowhere to go, no family, no responsibility, so they chose to take a stand for a cause rather to fall without one.

  The speech Lieutenant Colonel Buchanan gave after the Flip sent shivers down the spines of all the men he took command of. Early in the speech he gave a window of opportunity to everybody who wanted to leave and return home. He knew that giving them this opportunity would reserve to himself only the most loyal and principled men. Lieutenant Colonel Buchanan would rather command three loyal men than three hundred whisperers. That wasn’t the case for Buchanan; he had the respect of every man that worked under him or around him.

  That day he only lost forty-seven men, including all but one officer, Captain Riley, from Company C, 6th ESB (Engineer Support Battalion). His highest enlisted Marine was Gunnery Sergeant Franks, Company E, 4th Recon Battalion. Buchanan would rather have Franks than an officer on any day of the week. He was headstrong, firm, and knew his men and work. He shared the ideals of a free America and the principles of the Constitution, just as Buchanan did.

  Buchanan was a major when he saw the recently constructed southern border fence come down along the border. Not long after that, a flood of Muslim extremists came flooding through with hundreds of thousands of Mexicans. Both poverty and destruction swept through the country with devastating end results. Buchanan knew then what was on the horizon, but he chose to stay in the Marines and prepared himself, mentally, for what he knew would inevitably follow. He sat helplessly watching as extreme left-wing presidential candidates won election after election. Each election won because the candidate pushed new and bright ideas for welfare programs, each one accelerating the growth of program-dependent Americans. It was only a matter of time before the America Buchanan grew up in was gone altogether.

  Buchanan was looking for several tugboats running north along the Mississippi River. His recon teams had gathered the intel not long after the lights went out. He knew they were full of American prisoners destined for what the government heads called a “relocation protocol.”

  Basically, all existing Americans were to be slowly rounded up and inventoried into categories comprising of “Education,” which fell into Agenda 21’s definition of essential, and “Ill,” which fell into the definition of nonessential. Age was also a consideration. Children were separated from families and inventoried the same way, but utilizing a different protocol. They had to meet certain criteria to be considered essential. Buchanan was resolute in his desire to impede the progression of a holocaust-style event. His Marines were behind him one hundred percent.

  Recon Battalion was ahead of the primary force by a couple miles. They had Gunnery Sergeant Franks as their senior noncommissioned officer.

  “Seven Foxtrot, Seven Foxtrot from Bravo One. Over,” Buchanan called on his now antiquated military PRC-77 radio.

  “Seven Foxtrot. Over,” Gunnery Sergeant Franks replied.

  Gunnery Sergeant Franks was a hardcore Force Reconnaissance Marine. He’d served several tours of active-duty service in the Middle East, battling extremists on their own dirt. He retired from active-duty service to enjoy some leisure in the Reserves. Now his CO was calling him on the radio.

  “When are we going to drop off India and pick up Big Mike?” Buchanan asked, referring to the route they were traveling along the Illinois River. The plan was to follow the Illinois River from their base in Peoria to where it bleeds into the Mississippi River.

  “One mike,” Franks replied, which was military jargon for “just a minute.” After doing some figures on his map, he picked up the handle of his PRC-77 and called Lieutenant Colonel Buchanan. “Bravo One, Bravo One, Seven Foxtrot. Over.”

  “Seven Foxtrot, this is Bravo One. Over.”

  “Bravo One, we will be intercepting Big Mike in fife mikes. Over.”

  “Roger that, Seven Foxtrot. Stop where you are and set up a perimeter. We’ll be on CP briefly. Over,” Buchanan said as he put down the mic and looked at his driver, who was a Weapons Company platoon sergeant.

  “Catch up with FORECON and help set up a perimeter. I pray to God this isn’t going to be a left-handed monkey wrench.”

  Gunnery Sergeant Franks and his Recons had set up a perimeter on State Route 100 at an old ferry station, just a few minutes from the town of Grafton, Illinois. Lieutenant Colonel Buchanan, along with Weapons Company and Captain Riley’s Engineers, pulled up in their convoy to meet with Gunnery Sergeant Franks. Buchanan stepped out of his HMMWV (Humvee) and waited on Captain Riley. They shook hands and together walked up to Franks, who had lowered a hatch on one of the HMMWVs and laid out a tactical map.

  “Sorry for the comics, sir.”

  “What do you have, Gunny?” Buchanan asked Franks.

  “Well, sir, I’ve sent a couple Recons ahead to survey the area. I’m waiting for a sitrep on the condition of the town. So far, they’ve located a business building that sits on the interchange of the Illinois and Mississippi, with a flat roof that would be perfect to set up Weapons Company.”

  “Great work, Gunny. How long have your men been surveying?”

  “They were ahead of us by several minutes. They should be calling in a report anytime now.”

  “Seven Foxtrot, Seven Foxtrot, Echo Four Juliet. Over.” The transmission came through clearly to Gunny Franks.

  “This is Seven Foxtrot. Over.”

  “Seven Foxtrot, the packages are in tow from the south, fife miles northbound. Over,” the corporal on the radio relayed to Franks.

  “Copy,” Franks said in a hurry as he, Buchanan, and Riley, along with every Marine on foot, scurried back to their vehicles and took off towards their destination.

  Recon had set up a perimeter prior to the arrival of Weapons and Engineer companies. Corporal James, Recon Scout, met Gunny Franks and pointed out the flat-roofed building from which they were going to make their assault.

  “Listen up,” Buchanan yelled to all the Marines. “This is live action. There’s no Naval Criminal Investigations here; there’s no Uniformed Code of Military Justice. Your country needs you now because its government has betrayed it. There’s a dozen tugboats heading down this river and they’re under the control of Blue Helmets. Blue Helmets are not American; they are foreign invaders welcomed into this country by a tyrannical white collar. Your mission is to destroy the tugs and save the shipping containers they tow. Inside those containers are American prisoners that the government considers obsolete because they are ‘average’; we are going to save them in an attempt to restore natural order to the people of the United States. Do you understand?”

  The Marines all shouted in unison, “Oorah!”

  “Then get to your post and stay frosty. We’re about to rain on their parade!”

  CHAPTER X

  Nathan rose early the next morning and went about his daily routine. After eating some grub and chitchatting with the new members of the group, Nathan sat down on an old car and began to think. He looked around at all the faces. He didn’t know any of them, except for the small talk they shared in passing. He knew that to be successful with any kind of mission, he would have to take a tally of what he called “assets.” To Nathan, assets were skills that could be beneficial to the group. He also knew that his group couldn’t be called
“Southern Illinois Home Guard” for long. Eventually he would have to drop the group name and return to the obvious: “the people.”

  Nathan called Denny, Jess, Zig, James, and Ash and requested they get the word out for a “sixteen hundred meeting.” All five of them agreed and went around town, requesting everybody meet up at the old firehouse at four o’clock. About an hour later, the faint sound of choppers were heard overhead. Everybody stopped in their tracks to try to determine where the sound was coming from.

  “Everybody into the woods, now!” Nathan yelled as loud as he could.

  The command was heard by everybody in earshot and repeated by everybody until every person was running towards the tree line.

  “Leave your things and stop what you’re doing,” Nathan yelled as he ran.

  There was a great crowd of people running toward the woods that made Nathan concerned about the possibility of being spotted from the air. The sound was getting closer and closer, but it was hard to determine where the sound was coming from.

  When the last person had entered the woods, Nathan said, “Everybody needs to keep their voices down so we can hear what’s happening overhead.”

  The sheer number of people in the town was greater than Nathan had ever anticipated. He made the quick decision to have everybody in the woods rather than inside their homes, because he did not know the intentions of the incoming helicopters. He was fearful of a carpet bombing on the small town of Gorham. He didn’t know what intelligence had been gathered on his group, if any at all, but he was not going to risk it.