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

by L. Douglas Hogan

  Since then, Tori had found an abandoned home to rest her eyes and catch some well-deserved Zs. The strange disappearance of Mike and the men were on her mind when she went to sleep, and it was the first thing she thought of when she awakened.

  The house was cold, but she was well bundled, with several layers of clothing she wore for these kind of nights. She had also taking some drapes down off the windows and used them to shield herself from the cold. Every bit of insulation she could find helped sustain her warmth for the night.

  Stretching out and listening to the early morning songs of a cardinal was refreshing and reminded her of better days. The birdsong brought to memory a time she and her daughters, Charity and Amelia, worked together to paint birdhouses that her husband, Richard, had built from spare lumber. They sat out in the garage, as a family, and smiled as they talked about giving homes to the homeless birds.

  It was barely a thought, but it was enough of a happy memory to bring a tear to Tori’s eye. She was lonely and missed her children, husband, and friends. She had to keep her mind occupied or she would go mad with survivor’s guilt.

  I can’t continue to let these things cloud my mind. I have to stay sharp, she thought.

  Tori stood up and took off her heavy outer layers of clothes. Packing them tightly into her bag, she made sure she had everything and then grabbed her rifle and headed to the kitchen area, where she had the motorcycle. She found herself studying the exit strategy for backing her bike out of the door of the kitchen. Pushing it in was easy, but pushing a motorcycle backwards out of a doorway was going to prove difficult.

  Once she had the handlebars of the bike beyond the threshold of the door, she felt easier about getting it out, but the rear tire landed hard when it dropped off the six-inch back patio. That caused her to lose control of the bike and it fell off to the side, landing on a barbeque grill and causing a great deal of noise. Tori quickly took her rifle off of her shoulder and spun it forward, backing herself inside the shadow of the kitchen, where she sat still and waited for somebody to reply to the sound. After several minutes of no response, she began to move back to the bike. She proceeded out of the door with great caution, but inevitably had to shoulder her rifle to lift the bike back up.

  Lifting motorcycles was no easy task for Tori. She was an average-sized female trying to muscle a three-hundred-fifty-pound bike. She had found the best way was using leverage. She started her lift by using her legs, and then walked in closer to it. The tighter she was to the bike, and the higher the lift became, the less it seemed to weigh.

  As soon as she had the bike upright, she was grabbed from behind. Knowing only that a man had snuck up on her, had covered her mouth, and that she was being dragged backwards into the kitchen, she grabbed her shiny 1911 from her waist and bit the man’s hand, causing him to release her. She spun around and pointed her pistol at the man.

  No sooner than she had said, “Meet Bubba,” she recognized the man as one of Mike’s patrol team.

  He was already shot and bleeding.

  Tori put the 1911 back in her waistband and pushed the man in the chest. “What are you doing? I almost shot you.”

  “I didn’t want you to scream.”

  “Why would I scream? Because I’m a girl? I’m so sick of effeminate clichés.”

  “I’ve been shot through.”

  “What am I supposed to do? Kiss it and make it feel better?”

  “Look, I’m sorry. I misjudged you.”

  “Let’s take a look at you,” she said as she began lifting his shirt.

  The man was shot in the back and it went through the soft tissue and penetrated his kidneys, exiting his front side.

  Tori sighed. “Well, do you want the good news or the bad news?”

  The man was looking green and could barely stand. “Just give it to me.”

  “The bad news is, you’re done. You have a serious infection in that wound and you’re toxic from having a ruptured kidney.”

  The man slid down the wall into a seated position with one leg crossed. He took out his pistol, pointed it at his head, and pulled the trigger. The man died instantly.

  Tori didn’t miss a beat before saying, “The good news is, you don’t have to live in this hell any longer.”

  Tori grabbed the dead man’s gun and placed it in her pack, but not without checking it for ammo. It was a Sig Sauer 9mm P226 with a twenty-round super-capacity magazine. She looked around for the man’s backpack, but remembered the count of backpacks that were on the road.

  He must have given up his pack before he ran for it, she thought as she went back to her second attempt at lifting the bike.

  Benton, Illinois

  When Denny finally came to, he found himself in a dimly lit room with Morgan sitting in the opposing corner. He had a severe migraine and his nose had been bleeding. His face was numb around the area of his lips and the bridge of his nose.

  “Where’s Nathan?” Denny asked his friend.

  “I don’t know, man. That dewie thing knocked a hole in the wall the size of a wrecking ball and left no sign of shrapnel. Everybody scattered or vanished or was taken, I don’t know, man.”

  Denny felt his nose and knew that it was broken. “Where are we?”

  “You’re a heavy cat for your size, bro. I carried you two blocks before stopping here. Wherever here is.”

  “I need a pen or a pencil. Something long, narrow, and about the same diameter.”

  “Why? You gonna write a love letter to Nathan?”

  “What’s up with the attitude?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just that this is wearing me down. I’m getting grouchy,” he said as he took off his pack and tossed him a china marker.

  Denny caught it and stuck it up his nose.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, man! What are you doing with my grease pen?”

  Denny lined the china marker up with his nasal cavity and snapped the cartilage in his nose back into position and then tossed the marker back to Morgan.

  Morgan didn’t catch it; instead he dodged it and let it hit the wall. “Really? I woulda let you keep it.”

  “Nah, I’ve got one.”

  “What?”

  “You didn’t think I was going to stick my own china marker up my nose, did you?”

  “Whatever, man. What do you think they shot at us? That jarhead called it a dewie, and said something about energy, or whatever.”

  “I’m not sure, Morg. That’s all way over my head. I use this,” Denny said, pulling out his Karambit. “And this,” he continued, grabbing for a rifle that he couldn’t find. “Oh no,” Denny exclaimed.

  “What is it?”

  “Where’s my rifle?”

  “It must’ve got lost in that energy blast.”

  “I don’t travel without my rifle. That’s the same as suicide.”

  “We can’t go back there, man. They’ll catch us for sure.”

  “I’m going back. I never mentioned we.”

  “If you go back now, you’ll be killed. They’re looking for us.”

  “Again, you’re putting words in my mouth. I never said I was going back now.”

  “Then when?”

  “I’ll probably head in when darkness falls. I’ve noticed those goons don’t go room clearing at night. It’s bad for their health.”

  “Yeah, well, we’ve got the home-field advantage, too.”

  “You know what would be cool?”

  “What’s that?”

  “If all these foreign invaders caught an illness that would kill them off. Something that we Americans already have an immunity too.”

  “Man, you’re talking some Orson Welles craziness.”

  “Maybe so, just saying it would be cool. So, you never saw what happened to Nathan?”

  Denny could see that Morgan was trying hard to remember the facts surrounding the direct energy weapon attack.

  “No, I think I blacked out, too. I popped up and saw people scrambling, just shapes, really. I saw you were
still breathing, so I grabbed you and hightailed it out of there.”

  Denny was more concerned about Nathan than anything else. He found himself in his current situation because he ran into town towards the sounds of gunfire. He knew Nathan had headed in that direction and that he probably needed their assistance. He didn’t believe for a second that Nathan would have left him behind. He was fairly positive that Nathan was either killed or rendered unconscious.

  “I can’t stay here. I’m getting the itches thinking that Nathan might need my help.”

  “If you go out that door, they’re likely to see you.”

  Denny stood up and started collecting himself. “Whatever. I’m going to see what I can find out. I’ll be careful.”

  Morgan stood up. “Fine, I’m coming with you.”

  When Denny had smiled at Morgan and turned his back to lead the way out of the room, Morgan struck him in the back of the head with the buttstock of his rifle.

  Denny went limp and fell unconscious again.

  “I hate to have to do that, man, but if you woulda walked out that door, you woulda jeopardized us both, and I can’t be havin’ that.”

  Morgan took Denny and pulled him back to the corner and propped him back against the corner wall where he had him before. He situated Denny’s backpack behind him so that Denny was leaning upright.

  Morgan opened an MRE and began eating the spaghetti and meatballs.

  “I’ll never get used to this stuff. I can’t see how you veterans ate this stuff all the time.”

  Morgan’s plan was simple. Watch over Denny, and wake him up when it gets dark. That was the only acceptable plan of attack that he was willing to work with.

  FEMA Compound, Sheridan, Western Oregon, 14:23 Hours

  What used to be a 1980s-designed federal penitentiary was now serving as a FEMA compound. Virtually all federal and state prisons were converted to FEMA compounds when the Flip occurred. Even before that, preparations were being made, early in Adalyn Baker’s presidency, to turn all high-security facilities into emergency government housing to provide for civil disobedience, which was the buzz word for Americans who failed to comply with martial law.

  This day started out like every other day since the Flip. Busses were actively bringing in loads of fresh meat, which is what the federal employees called new admissions. The busses pulled up on a scheduled basis, the gates opened, and the people piled out at gunpoint. On this day, the gates opened, and then the busses stalled out, the generators stopped humming, and the guards were left wondering what was going on.

  “Control from SE Gate. Over,” one of the guards said into his radio, but received no reply.

  Looking closer at the radio, he found that it had stopped working. He removed the battery and put it back in, but it still did not function.

  Looking at his digital watch to get the time, he saw that the screen was black and not functioning.

  The guard walked up to the bus driver, who opened the door and told the guard, “My bus stalled out. Everything analogue that’s running directly off the battery is fine, like the wipers, but nothing digital or electronic.”

  The guard walked back over to the control for the gates and pressed the button multiple times in a futile attempt to secure them.

  Once again, he called on his radio, “Control from SE Gate. Over.”

  There was no reply.

  The gate guard looked up to Tower One and saw the tower guard standing outside his post, on the catwalk.

  “Hey,” the gate guard yelled up to the catwalk. “We don’t have any power.”

  “Me either,” he yelled back down. “The magnetic locks just stopped working. Everything is down. I think the generators went out, too.”

  “Nothing’s working! Not even the RFID scanners.”

  “I’m going to fetch a chain and padlock. We’re going to have to manually secure them until we find out what’s going on.”

  “Sounds good.”

  The man left the catwalk and returned to his post. When he walked in and pulled the magnetic door closed, it just swung back open.

  Meanwhile, at Tower Three, the tower guard was bundling up because his electric heater was not warming his post. Before he could finish putting his heavy coat on, medical assistants came running out of the Bioengineering and Research Building. The guard was trying to hear their conversation, but the distance from the Bioengineering and Research Building to his post was too far. He pulled out his binoculars and tried reading their lips. Their conversation was reaching his ears after the fact. He was only able to make out a few words: “unstable in cooler temperatures” and “no power to sustain. ”

  It was enough to frighten the tower guard, who immediately abandoned his post and walked out Gate Two, leading the way for the medical assistants, nurses, doctors, and scientists to follow. Everybody that came out of the Bioengineering and Research Building stripped their biohazard suits and fled on foot.

  One guard that was working inside the building, and had the sole responsibility of insuring everybody left decontaminated, came out last. He was distraught, walking backwards from the building and holding his head with both hands. When he was well outside, he looked around and saw that he was alone. He fled out the gate.

  Camp Parks Army Reserve Forces, Dublin, California, 14:31 Hours

  Soldiers of the Army Reserves Forces, Camp Parks, had just secured the Dublin federal penitentiary when the lights went out. They rescued several hundred men and women from the FEMA compound and managed to secure the radios, transponders, frequencies, and virtually every manner of electronic communication that was available.

  “Sergeant Briggs, the radios stopped working the exact same time the power went out,” Corporal Tina Wheeler said.

  Sergeant Briggs was a five-year serviceman and sergeant from Asco, California. His father was a lifetime soldier and raised him on the Army base. There was no soldier more dedicated to the virtues of the Constitution than Sergeant James Briggs.

  “Can’t be a coincidence. The District probably found out about our little raid and thought it would be easier to EMP us than to suffer more casualties. We saved them, that’s what matters most, Corporal. Let’s gather up whatever intel we can find and get out of Dodge before they send something worse.”

  The District, White House Situation Room, 14:36 Hours

  Payam Vahidi was working frantically to bring life back to the computers that had mysteriously shut down at the Utah Data Center. None of the FEMA employees or UN commanders assigned to that area were answering their phones. The live feeds had stopped coming into the White House Situation Room and there was no explanation why or what was happening.

  Vahidi was understandably afraid of bearing bad news to the executive commander. It wasn’t until he had exhausted all possible efforts that he finally dialed Muhaimin’s number.

  The District, White House Oval Office

  Muhaimin was meeting with his top commanders and going over final preparations for the assault on the RFID-chipped veterans and active-duty personnel, primarily the group located in South Dakota, when his cell phone rang. Muhaimin reached into his coat and pulled out his cell phone.

  Looking at the call, he said, “Excuse me, gentlemen, I have an urgent phone call that I must attend to.”

  “Mr. Vahidi, this had better be good news. I was not expecting a phone call.”

  The commanders were overhearing his end of the conversation.

  “I see. Thank you for the update, Mr. Vahidi.”

  Muhaimin pressed the button that disconnected his call from Vahidi, and looked at the commanders.

  “Gentlemen, I’m afraid there’s been a stall in our plan of action. I will be in touch with further updates. Continue to stand down until you hear from me.”

  The commanders saluted him and he walked away without returning the salute.

  A few moments later, he joined Vahidi in the White House Situation Room.

  “Tell me again how you failed me.”

&n
bsp; “Sir, I have been unable to make any connection to our contacts on the West Coast. Our systems are still running, but it’s like their systems crashed. We are no longer receiving feeds from the FLIES drones or the RFID program. Nobody west of South Dakota has contacted us. It’s like they vanished.”

  Muhaimin looked around the room and saw several operators answering phone calls.

  “Who’s calling them?”

  “They are receiving phone calls from our units east of Wyoming. They are technical support employees, but all of our forces on the ground have no further access to the RFID-location protocols that we have recently upgraded.”

  “This is obviously a retaliatory attack from the Chinese.”

  “Sir?”

  “Mr. Vahidi, you’ve outstayed your welcome. It’s time to move on.”

  Muhaimin pulled his pistol from the holster and pointed it at Vahidi.

  Vahidi said, “Sir,” but was shot in the chest three times before he could beg for his life.

  “You were a good friend, Mr. Vahidi, but I can no longer tolerate the embarrassment you’ve given me.”

  Muhaimin turned and walked out while Vahidi fell to the floor and slowly died, unassisted.

  Benton, Illinois

  Captain Siroosi was pursuing the Recon Marines, utilizing the RFID protocol, when the signal dropped at 16:23 hours. He sent several work orders to the UDC and to the District, but never received anything but a dead tone from the UDC, and the requests to the District went unanswered. Having been stricken with the sudden lack of actionable intelligence, Siroosi stopped firing off the TITAN 1, which was the official name for the direct energy weapon. Frustrated, he selected twelve UN ground troops and geared them up in Biocontrol uniforms, charging them specifically with killing any American that looked active military or capable of effective resistance.

  To the UN soldiers, this was like a blank check. Each of them were feeling power hungry from watching the TITAN 1 being shot towards the Americans. From where they were standing, behind the TITAN 1, their chests were vibrating vigorously each time the TITAN 1 would charge for the next shot. It filled them with adrenaline and psyched them up for a fight, like school kids listening to their favorite speed metal song before they ran off to do something juvenile and brazen.