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

by L. Douglas Hogan

  Eventually, all the POWs were escorted inside and confined in segregation cells. Buchanan had just successfully seized the Menard Correctional Facility and had a commanding presence in the guard towers.

  Buchanan’s mind now shifted to separating the civilians from the inmates.

  Buchanan and Franks found the main administration building and announced on the loudspeaker, “This is Lieutenant Colonel Buchanan of the United States Marine Corps. We have seized control of this institution and you are hereby commanded to freeze any and all activity and report back to your housing area immediately. You will be approached by Marines and given instructions on how to secure your God-given freedoms as Americans. No longer are you required to relocate unless you voluntarily choose to do so. I say again, freeze any and all activity, and report to your housing area, where you will be provided with instructions.”

  “Franks,” Buchanan said.

  “Here, sir.”

  “Get your men spread out and see if you can determine civilian from inmate.”

  “Yes, sir,” Franks said. “Sergeant up,” he called out.

  A platoon sergeant stepped up. “What’s up, Gunny?”

  “I need every occupant of this prison located and identified as either state prisoner or UN prisoner. Then I want them separated. You understand?”

  “Got it, Gunny,” the sergeant said before he walked off barking orders to his subordinate Marines.

  “Echo Seven Foxtrot, Echo Seven Foxtrot, this is Sierra Fife Victor. Over,” the radio rang out. A sergeant from the front gate was attempting to contact Franks.

  “Sierra Fife Victor, this is Echo Seven Foxtrot. Proceed.”

  “Echo Seven Foxtrot, one of our papas is an American. Over.”

  Franks cringed at the thought of an American being employed by the UN. He stopped what he was doing and proceeded to the front gate, where he met up with the outside security.

  “What do we have?” Franks asked.

  The Marine brought him a POW that claimed to be an American employed by the UN.

  Franks looked at the man and said, “Do you want to explain yourself? Start with why you betrayed your country!”

  The man looked up at Franks and said, “It wasn’t intentional. I took an assignment under the command of another American UN commander and was eventually assigned here. I never knew the UN would be used as an invasion force or utilized to take Americans prisoner.”

  Franks just stared at the man and waited for him to spill more. Eventually he did. The nervousness of having a Marine Corps gunnery sergeant looking down on him took over.

  “I was an Army Security Forces soldier when this went down. Honestly, I’ve been manning that tower and doing nothing, literally, nothing. Just a warm body in a tower. I even chose extra guard-tower duty to insure nobody else would take it and act foolishly. I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

  “Do you know you were moments away from being assassinated by your replacement group?” Franks asked, pointing over to the Marines that were hoisting the bodies of the original UN security forces up into train cars.

  The man looked at the Marines and turned back to Franks. “I didn’t know. I thought it was a simple change of the guard.”

  “Stand up,” Franks commanded. “You’re going to stay in cuffs, for now. Follow me.”

  Franks took the man inside to where Buchanan was seated in one of the administrative offices.

  Buchanan looked at Franks, just for a second, then opened his arms and said, “I like this office. What do you think, Gunny?”

  “I think it’s a wonderful choice, sir, with an excellent view of the walls,” Franks joked.

  “What do we have here?” Buchanan asked, pointing a pen at the man Franks brought in.

  “Sir, my name is Specialist Matt Leboe. I was stationed at Camp Taji, Iraq, before I received orders to reassign here. Upon entering my new post, I saw several UN shipments of American hostages. I didn’t know where they came from and I didn’t ask questions. They were dropped off here, and I took responsibility for them.”

  “He said he’s done quite a bit of tower duty, too. He stated that he worked the tower to disengage from the work his peers were engaged in,” Franks said.

  “Tell me about your guard-duty assignments, Specialist,” Buchanan said.

  “There’s not much to tell, really. Pockets of resisters stop by once in a while and shoot at the place, but they’re usually dealt with by perimeter security. I’ve had chances to shoot at them and I always report back that they’re out of range or out of sight picture,” Matt explained.

  “What else?” Buchanan asked.

  “Well, sir, we expect periodical shipments from the Mississippi River. They’re coming in from the Gulf of Mexico and heading north to Chicago.”

  “What’s in Chicago?” Franks asked.

  “That’s where the regional command structure is. Ever since the US grid went down, FEMA has been given command over all military and law enforcement.”

  “Not all,” Buchanan exclaimed.

  “Obviously, sir,” the man said. “But for the most part, FEMA is running what’s left of the United States and using the United Nations as the muscle behind the agenda.”

  “Agenda?” Franks inquired.

  “Yes, they’re pushing some kind of stuff that everybody used to think was conspiracy theory, but it’s not, it’s real.”

  Buchanan looked at Franks and said, “He must be talking about the global redevelopment initiative titled Agenda 21.”

  “That’s it,” Matt said. “They’re clearing out all this land and shipping people to compounds, where they’re managed.”

  “Managed?” Franks asked.

  “I don’t know how they’re managed, just that they are processed however they are processed.” Matt continued looking at them and could see that each of them were deep in thought. “The only people that know what’s going on in those compounds are the people that work there.”

  “When did you say your next shipment was coming in?” Buchanan asked.

  “By ‘periodical’ I meant ‘random.’ I actually have no idea when the barges will float in.”

  “Do they know we’re here?”

  “They only know that there have been attacks on the shipments earlier, and they immediately sent choppers to patrol the river along the area of engagement. I hear they’ve lost two whole shipments.”

  “We only took one. Where was the other seized?”

  “Just outside the gate and south a couple hundred yards. Radio traffic said it was a militia group. It was the first attack. After that, patrols were sent,” Matt told them.

  Buchanan looked at Franks with resolve in his eyes and said, “Gunny, we need to find this militia and determine their level of patriotism.”

  “I’m on it, sir.”

  Gunnery Sergeant Franks left and rounded up some reconnaissance Marines. Then they jumped in an HMMWV and drove to the Chester Welcome Center, where they had set up the CP for the earlier assault on the UN guards.

  Gunny had his HMMWV parked next to Reynolds’ HMMWV and got out of the vehicle and walked into the visitors’ center, where he saw Reynolds and some of his Rangers. They had just finished waterboarding the UN Captain.

  Franks walked up to Reynolds and shook his hand. “What did you find out?”

  “Well, he was a tough one to crack, but we were able to determine the routes and points of access the UN is using to enter the US.”

  “Go on,” Franks said.

  “We were right about the use of the Mississippi River to ferry prisoners and UN equipment. They’re entering the Midwest areas using the river from the Gulf of Mexico and making key stops along the way to pick up civilians for the purpose of sustainable development initiative. They’re also coming in, via ship, the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. From the north, they’re entering from Canada.”

  Franks was deeply worried about the new information. He knew, without a doubt, that the US President had cle
ared them or they wouldn’t becoming in unchecked.

  “Did you find out anything about their size, locations, units, equipment?” Franks asked.

  “We’re looking at the world’s resources as far as size and equipment go. The number of troops could be innumerable and the equipment really depends on what countries have pledged their equipment to the cause. He didn’t mention anything about anti-armor, but it looks like heavy guns are definitely here.”

  “What about air power, anti-air, attack boats?”

  “He mentioned something about having the answer to our technological superiority, but he clammed up after that.”

  “Okay, listen up. Have a couple of your guys take him back to the prison. Nobody knows we have control of this prison now, so we’re going to utilize it until we know otherwise.”

  Reynolds gave the order to his men and then turned back to Franks. “Anything else?”

  “Yes, actually”—Franks was strapping his Kevlar helmet back onto his chin—“let’s grab the rest of your crew and the reconnaissance Marines. We’re going hunting.”

  CHAPTER XX

  Gorham, Illinois, October 29

  Nobody in the Southern Illinois Home Guard could console Nathan for his loss. Denny spent time with his sister, Heather, that night. He, like so many others, had forgotten what it meant to have family. For a night, Denny didn’t take her for granted, but made the most of his visit.

  Heather and Katie were not best friends, but they spent quite a bit of time together because of Nathan and Denny’s brotherhood. They were always at each other’s family reunions and barbeques. For now, Heather showered in the attention she was getting from Denny. That is, until there were loud pounds on the door of Heather’s house.

  Denny grabbed his pistol and ran over to the door. He peeked out the shades and saw Nathan. He was all disheveled and wearing the same clothes he was wearing the previous day, which wasn’t uncommon, but he was still covered in Katie’s blood.

  The entire camp had cleared the remaining raiders out last night and left those who had lost loved ones alone. Denny hadn’t seen Nathan since he had helped him bury Katie. Nathan had left the grave site and disappeared into the camp. Now he was back and pounding on his sister’s door.

  Denny holstered the pistol and opened the door and beat Nathan to the punch. “Nathan, I’m here for you, but think this through.”

  “They’ve got to die, Denny! They can’t just walk into our homes and kill our people,” Nathan said with a raspy voice, as if he had been screaming all night.

  “What do you want to do?” Denny caved.

  “Just your support. I’ll put together a plan.”

  With that, Nathan walked off. Denny left the door open, briefly, and felt bad for Nathan. He gently closed the door and looked at Heather.

  “I know what I’d do if anything ever happened to you,” he told her. “I can’t expect anything less from Nathan.”

  Denny walked over to Heather and put his arms around her.

  “When things go down, I want you to know that I love you, and I’ll never let anything happen to you. I’ll always be here for you. That’s why I have to help Nathan. They have to be killed so that this doesn’t happen again, so that nothing happens to you,” Denny said to Heather with reassuring eyes.

  Denny grabbed his gear, rifle, and pistol. He made sure his karambit was in his pocket and that his guns were loaded. He double-checked the chambers to make sure the rounds were securely in place. He tidied up his appearance, gave Heather a hug, and opened the front door.

  “I love you, dork,” Denny heard her say as he closed the door. He stood at the base of the steps and took a moment to look around and gather his composure.

  “Things are about to get messy,” he mumbled to himself. He looked towards Nathan’s house and started in that direction.

  Jessica was just getting out of bed. She was sitting up on the edge of the bed, with her feet barely touching the floor. She grabbed the dirty socks she had aired out all night, gave them a sniff, and jolted her head back.

  “I gotta get some cleaning done,” she said to herself. Grabbing her metal cooking pan, she dipped it in a five-gallon bucket of water and heated the pan of water to a boil. She took a drink and used what was left to brush her teeth and wash herself. Her shoulder was still sore from her gunshot wound, but she had a way of pushing through the pain. She soaked her dirty socks in the water and added some lye soap. Using her one good arm, she massaged them in the water and then wrung them out. Her socks wouldn’t smell like fragrances, but at least they would be cleaner.

  Jess opened the door of her trailer and tossed the wet socks over the door to catch some breeze and sunlight. That’s when she heard the faint sounds of a man yelling in the distance.

  Jess put some shoes on her bare feet and grabbed her Governor. She ran outside and was met by Denny, who had also heard the yells.

  Denny started towards the sound, which was coming from the northeast.

  “Be careful. It could be a trap,” Jess said.

  “I’m always careful,” he replied. “Are you coming?”

  Jess hesitated, considering if she would be a liability with only one good arm.

  “I think I had better sit this one out, Den. I’m no use until I can get close enough to use a pistol.”

  Zig, who had been sitting on his deck, saw Denny and Jess walking by as they talked. “What’s going on?” he asked.

  “We heard a man’s voice coming from the northeast,” Jess explained.

  “Are you going to need some help?”

  Denny looked at the sling on Jess’s arm and then back in the direction of the yells.

  “Yeah,” Denny said, not taking his eyes off the direction of the sound. “Go get Ash. Let Nathan sit this one out. We’ll wait here for Ash; then me, him and Jess will check it out.”

  “All right. I’ll be right back,” Zig said.

  “I guess I’m in,” Jess said.

  Meanwhile, at the firewatch post on the northeast side of the camp, along the railroad tracks where Scott had made his hasty retreat with the bus, a man named Chuck was on his firewatch post when he saw a man walking down the tracks and heading toward the camp. Chuck had abandoned his post, which was a perch above an old railcar that sat at the junction of the two railroad tracks that converged in Gorham. He had seen the man, through his binoculars, stepping out of the woods and onto the track that headed into camp.

  Chuck had unhitched his horse and rode it a half mile northeast to meet the man. Chuck yelled at him, “KEEP YOUR HANDS UP WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!”

  Chuck was off of his horse and walking up to the stranger, who had a pistol in his hand. Both Chuck and the stranger were pointing their guns at each other.

  The stranger, being arrogant and argumentative, said, “You put your hands up first.”

  “I’M NOT TELLING YOU AGAIN,” Chuck yelled at the stranger.

  “I’m not telling you again, either,” the stranger arrogantly said.

  Denny, Jess, Zig, and Ash came riding up on their horses at a high gallop and dismounted before they came to a full stop.

  Now everybody was pointing their rifles and pistols at the stranger.

  “Who are you?” Jess barked.

  “Nobody of consequence,” the stranger replied, not taking his pistol off of Chuck.

  “If you’re not anybody of consequence, then you must be somebody irrelevant and nobody’s gonna miss you.”

  “Why don’t you just drop the gun?” Zig asked in a calm voice.

  With that, the stranger had identified Zig as weak. He saw his kindness as weakness and was actively evaluating every person in the group. He saw Ash and Chuck as strong and commanding, although Chuck wasn’t so smart riding in alone; he saw Jess as inquisitive, but was reserving an opinion of her.

  The stranger was checking out Jess and asked, “What happened to your arm, there? Did you get shot?”

  Jess and Denny knew immediately that he was a Southside R
aider.

  “I was wondering, I’ve lost some friends and was wondering if you’ve seen them?”

  The man began looking towards the town and could see some of the vehicles that the raiders had driven into the town for the raid.

  “I think they’ve been here,” he said.

  Jess was also doing some evaluating of her own. She recognized him as being a man with a personality disorder.

  Antisocial…he definitely has a touch of antisocial personality disorder , she reasoned. She had noticed how arrogant and overly confident he was, despite the fact he was outnumbered and outgunned. Somehow, in his mind, he saw a way that he could still come out on top.

  “If you’re not going to tell me where my friends are, I’m afraid I have no further use for you.”

  Suddenly, everybody in the group had a sinking feeling in their chest that things were about to get extremely bad.

  Jess’s and Denny’s training began to kick in. Quick thinking was all that applied now. There was no room for hesitation. Hesitation equaled bad outcomes, but this man had a gun trained on Chuck. Scenarios flooded both of their minds. If we shoot him, will we drop him fast enough to save Chuck? Where do we shoot him? Can we accurately hit that mark fast enough?

  Suddenly the man’s hands opened up and the pistol’s weight swung it to the opposite side of his hand as he raised both of his hands up.

  Jess was controlling herself. She felt an intense urge to drop the stranger right there. She had had her fill of close calls and knew it was the best solution, but perception was important to her. She reasoned that she had just killed two unarmed and restrained men in the camp, and didn’t want to push the image to the point of being untrusted.

  “Put the gun on the ground,” Denny commanded.

  The stranger bent down and placed the gun on the ground.

  “Now put your backpack on the ground,” Denny ordered.

  “Who are you?” Jess asked again.

  “My name is Thomas,” he answered as he maneuvered his pack from his shoulders.