Arriving at the HMMWVs, Nathan saw a mangled mess of vehicle parts. He saw one rifle with a magazine in the rifle’s well, but couldn’t pull it out. The blast of the direct energy weapon had somehow bent the magazine in such a fashion that he couldn’t free it from the rifle. When he realized it wasn’t coming out, he disassembled the base of the magazine and popped the spring out, which allowed the rounds to fall into his lap. After that, he tried to pull a Marine out of the HMMWV by his arm, but the arm wasn’t attached and Nathan almost lost his balance, figuring he had to pull hard to free the body from the debris. Instead, he moved aside some parts of the vehicle that gave him a view of the magazine pouches on the Marine’s chest rig. He found two magazines full of ammunition that would work with his rifle. Pocketing the magazines, he ran back to the inside of the building and looked out of the north-facing window towards the next building.
Nathan’s plan was to move from cover to cover, taking out the rooftop guards before they had a chance to communicate. The next guard he could see was two buildings north of his location. When he had gathered a few mental notes and turned around to leave, he was struck in the face with the buttstock of a Bushmaster 30-06, rendering him unconscious.
CHAPTER X
The District
Executive Commander Muhaimin had reassigned two UN Crowd Control regiments from vital missions in Midwestern America to a centralized rally point in Independence, Iowa, to address the issue of large masses of Marines gathered together in the Black Hills of South Dakota.
“Crowd Control” was the buzz word for “UN Infantry” when peace-keeping missions were the narrative, but Muhaimin was growing bored of the political correctness from the global chairs. He was already believing himself to be one of the greatest military minds in the world. He wasn’t going to let a regiment of Marines undermine him or throw any further wrenches into the plans he had already laid the groundwork for. With new stresses coming from what he believed to be a Chinese attack on America, he was highly aggressive and his antisocial personality disorder always amplified his negative emotions. He could not afford a battle on two fronts, so he determined to deal with China later and focus on the immediate threat that presented itself currently on American soil.
As Muhaimin thought on these things, his phone rang. He reached into his coat pocket and removed his cell phone, paying careful attention to who was calling him on a secure line without an appointment.
“Captain Kianoush Delwadewala, one of the few people I look forward to hearing from. How was your trip back to the motherland?”
“Sir, you know how watchful the Iranian Homeland Security Forces have been. We have spared no expense of resources in aiding you with information and a watchful eye over your American project.”
“Captain Delwadewala, you know I do not like it when you take the long way around. Cut to the part when you give me information I can use. I am a busy man.”
“Sir, America was attacked by a high-tech North Korean electromagnetic weapon. We have nothing on record to show what it was exactly, but what we have been able to determine is that it was a low-altitude EMP missile-class weapon.”
“Have you heard anything from the Koreans?”
“Kil Jong Ho has upped his anti-American rhetoric and touted his sovereignty as a superpower. He has said nothing that would lay responsibility on him. The UN doesn’t know we have this information, but our monitoring shows the missile left the North Korean coastline and took a low-altitude trajectory directly to international waters just off the coast of America. The explosion detonated one thousand two hundred miles off the western coast of Oregon and affected every state in about a two-thousand-mile radius.”
“What was affected?”
“Everything electronic in the affected area has been rendered useless. The data feed we had from the Utah Data Center is gone. Operation Main Core is now a total loss. We have no way of locating the American resistance fighters, the FLIES drones are useless, and everything in western America is without power. Half of your UN forces are in the dark against the patriots. What technological edge we had on them is now gone.”
“Thank you for calling, Captain Delwadewala. My Advanced Technological Weapons Systems czar has resigned his post. I once told you there may be a promotion in your future. I look forward to hearing your reply.”
“Thank you for the offer, sir. It would be an honor to serve in that capacity, but I do feel that I can better serve your interests monitoring things from the motherland. The advanced weapons systems technology in America has been rendered incapacitated. The best weapon we now have against the patriots is the TITAN weapons system.”
“Perhaps you are correct. Thank you again for calling.”
Muhaimin disconnected his call with Delwadewala and put his cell phone away. He then walked into the White House Situation Room and spoke to a secretary.
“Connect me to the Rock Island Arsenal.”
Coronado, California
Sergeant Briggs, Specialist Edwards, and the rest of the platoon made their way to Edward’s ex-husband’s house. On approach, the Reservists could see that the hospitality of those who were still remaining in the Coronado area was lacking.
“This used to be a nice town,” Sergeant Briggs said to Edwards, who was patrolling just to his right and to the rear.
Edwards saw a few gang members had come out of the abandoned houses, but they did not attack. Many were running from house to house, gathering larger numbers of people with each visit.
“This doesn’t look like it’s going to end in our favor if they keep growing in numbers,” she replied.
“Private Price,” Briggs called out.
“Here, Sergeant,” the newest member of the team said as he came running up to Briggs.
“Do you still have that US flag?”
“Yeah, in my ruck.”
“Raise the colors. I don’t want these kids thinking we’re anything other than US soldiers.”
“You got it,” he said as he dropped out of formation to dig through his ruck.
Price pulled out a three-by-five-foot US flag and couldn’t find anything long enough to make a pole.
“Just bring it to the front. You and Smothers can hold it open and walk in front of the patrol,” Edwards said.
Privates Price and Smothers ran to the front of the patrol and each carried a corner.
“Now we look like a marching band,” Briggs said to Edwards.
“Maybe it’ll give us a friendly appearance.”
“Hopefully, keep your fingers crossed. How much further do we have to go, anyway?”
“Just about a mile.”
On occasion, as was customary while on patrol, members would turn to do a check of their six to make sure nobody was behind them. One of the rear privates looked over his left shoulder and saw two armed gangsters coming out of a house. Feeling slightly intimidated, he didn’t call out or say anything to any of the senior soldiers.
He watched them closely.
One of the gangsters was wearing a red-colored paisley handkerchief on his head. The other one was wearing the same pattern, but it was colored blue.
The two men joined up with the rear of the formation and fell into place, as if they were a part of the group. One by one, more gangsters came walking out of houses and joined the formation. Griggs and Edwards were seeing a ton of movement as well, but they were not checking their six. Completely oblivious to the change of circumstances, Briggs caught a reflective gaze from one of the large picture windows that was on a house. While remaining calm, Briggs continued forward as if nothing was wrong.
“Edwards?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t turn around just yet, but if you happen to get a glimpse at our six, you’ll see that we’ve picked up a few members.”
“Okay, by members, do you mean more soldiers? Because I doubt you mean more soldiers.”
“No, as in Bloods and Crips, together in our formation.
“Should we light
’em up?”
“No, I’m not feeling that. It’s more like they’re expressing something.”
“Yeah, unity. Bloods and Crips don’t play nice with one another.”
“They have a history of uniting when the cause arises. I never said anything to you about it, but if you look at my Army tattoo and look really close at the eagle’s legs, you can see upside-down pitchforks. And, inside the globe, you’ll see remnants of a five-pointed star.”
Shocked at the comment, Edwards bounced her back, like she was hit in the face with a football. Catching herself, she took the chance to look to the rear and saw about thirty gang members, and the number was growing.
“So, you used to be a…”
Edwards left the sentence open ended so Briggs could fill in the blank.
“Blood. I was a member of the West Coast Blood set,” Briggs said. “I was pretty much raised in the military. ‘Brat’ was what they called me. I had this rebellious stage where I wanted to go live with my mother. Mom and Dad divorced when I was very young. Apparently she didn’t like the military life. After she died, I got caught up in gang activity.”
Edwards looked over her shoulder more frequently than she ever did.
“Stop it,” Briggs said. “You’re making me nervous.”
“So how’d you get out?”
“I started rebuilding relations with my dad. Eventually the guys would ask me why I wasn’t throwing down anymore. I told them I was spending time with my dad and he didn’t know I was a G. I never told them, or anybody, my real plans. I was getting out and trading in my reds for my greens. Nobody came looking for me, and I vanished when the Army sent me overseas and stationed me far away from home. It all worked out.”
“So can you help get us out of this pickle?”
“Yeah, just don’t react or do anything stupid. Keep the patrol moving forward and I’ll drop out and talk to the Bloods leader.”
Griggs dropped out of the formation and saw that the entire platoon was showing weakness by excessively looking behind them.
Griggs walked up to the man he believed to be the leader. On approach, Griggs could tell he found the right man.
“What it B like?” Griggs said.
The Blood leader looked at him and said, “Man, we got mad juice for you just now. You B up in here flying our colors with pride. Man, we’re tired of hiding. We want our cities back, yo.”
Griggs looked at the Crips leader and acknowledged him with a head nod. When he acknowledged him back, he returned his conversation to the Bloods’ leader.
“Look, we just raided a FEMA compound of sorts. We were hoping to get some information from their databases but the lights went out. We’re thinking EMP.”
“Whatev, we got deez, don’t we?” the man said, holding out his pistol.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right, but we were hoping we could use our weapons on some blue helmets. It’s just easier to find them with radios.”
“We don’t need those. Our people B around all over. You want blue helmets, we can show you blue helmets.”
The Crips leader then spoke up.
“They be misrepresenting our colors, man.”
“I guess what I need to know is, is there another FEMA camp in the area?”
“Not within a hundred miles. You can see we’re not rollin’ anymore. Ain’t gonna happen,” the Bloods leader said, getting frustrated. “We heard about some slave trains, though.”
“Slave trains?” Griggs asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Yeah, the UN be pushing people onto trains and taking them east. Ain’t nobody come back.”
Edwards looked at Griggs and said, “We can always hit my ex’s house later.”
Griggs looked at the Bloods and asked, “Can you take us to the slave trains?”
Benton, Illinois
Nathan came to from his apparent blackout. He was cold and tied to a chair. His head was throbbing again, having just recovered from the direct energy weapon blast; he now had a migraine.
Nathan tried to move, but his arms were behind him. He could feel bits of rope and duct tape was being used to secure him. His worst fear was that he would eventually be caught alive by the UN and tortured into giving up information on everything and everyone he knew.
Nathan tried to move his legs, but he couldn’t move them either. His fingers were cold, but his toes were numb. There was a bitter coldness coming into the room from the outside that was freezing his digits. His immediate thoughts were on looking for a way to cut himself free. His chest rig was gone and he could not see his pack. Next, he looked about the room to see if he could identify any clues that would give up his captors. Nothing. All he could see was that he was in the center of a room.
“Oh good, you’re awake,” an unfamiliar voice said from behind him.
Nathan looked over and saw an unknown American walking out of a room behind him. “I hope you slept well.”
“Well, I had a sleep aid. That helped a lot.”
“Don’t get smart with me, punk.”
“Look, you suckered me unconscious and I’m tied to a chair. Forgive my grumpiness.”
The man was older, in his fifties, and was wearing a few layers of clothing. His beard was long and grizzled. Nathan could smell him, even through all the layers of clothing.
“Why am I here? Who are you? You’re not UN,” Nathan asked.
“My name is Joseph Sutton.”
“Never heard of you.”
“I’ve heard of you.”
“How so?”
“You came through my neighborhood, shooting things up. You wouldn’t know me, but you’ve killed a few men on your wild rampages through southern Illinois. I think it’s about time to pay the piper.”
“I’ve shot through a lot of towns. Maybe you can be more specific?”
“Marion. You’re the punk that’s connected to that girl that shot Cade in the head. I wasn’t there, but I heard the gunshots and saw the injury.”
“Look, let me go and I’ll drink hot cocoa with you and share the whole story.”
The man walked away to the back room and returned with a coffee mug.
“You mean this hot cocoa?” the man said as he began sipping the cocoa that he took from Nathan’s MRE.
“I was saving that.”
“Sorry, but I’m not sure an MRE is fitting for your last meal.”
“So you’re going to kill me, then?”
“I’m not. I’m just watching over you until the others get back.”
“The others?”
“Yeah, they left for a bit. Not sure why.”
As soon as Sutton had said that, the door opened and four people came walking into the room. The first three he didn’t recognize. The fourth man was Cade Walker and his 30-06 Bushmaster rifle.
“Cade, thank God. Tell this guy I’m cool and get me out of here.”
The other men looked at Cade and said, “How does he know your name?”
“I told you before. I used to ride with this guy and his men. When I saw how evil he was, I made the decision to leave him. When that happened, he had me killed; or so he thought.”
Nathan didn’t say anything further. He was under the assumption that Cade was saying what he had to in order to save him from the men.
One of the men looked at another and said, “I wish Donnie was here now. Then he could see that I was right. That chick we’re after tried to kill Cade.”
Nathan saw the bandage on Cade’s head, but was reluctant to say anything about how it had happened. He wanted to believe Jess’s story, but time would tell if she was right or paranoid.
“She tried to kill me, all right,” Cade said. “She’s been a thorn in the palm of my hand for months now.”
Cade looked at the men and said, “Leave me alone for a few with our guest. We need to clear the air.”
The men all left the room.
“Cade, what’s all this about? Are you going to let me go?”
“Let you go? I’ve
got you exactly where I want you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“A few months ago, I had it made. I ran a cozy part of town with food and water.”
“Yeah, so did I,” Nathan interrupted.
“Don’t ever interrupt me again.”
Cade looked at Nathan in the eyes and Nathan saw only a blank stare. It was like his soul was missing.
Cade continued. “I had patrols that went out in search of resources, and my establishment was interrupted by an unwelcomed guest.”
“Jessica,” Nathan said.
“Where is she?” Cade asked in a calm yet disturbing manner.
“I don’t know. We split up.”
“That’s not what I wanted to hear.”
Cade pulled a bolt cutter out of his coat.
Nathan was gripped with fear for the first time in his life. He had been in many situations involving life and death. None of them made him susceptible to fear, but this was different. He was tied helplessly to a chair.
“Cade, you don’t have to do this.”
“That’s what’s cool, Nate. I know I don’t have to, but I choose to. That’s the beauty of freedom.”
“Your freedom stops when it hinders mine!”
“That’s your definition of freedom. Mine is a world where I’m calling the shots and you’re listening, and right now, I’m giving you one more chance to tell me where Jess is.”
“Cade…”
Nathan couldn’t get the sentence out before Cade grabbed his left hand and forced Nathan’s fist open. His hands were cold and weak. Nathan couldn’t resist as he normally would have been able to. His cold fingers had no strength in them.
Cade held Nathan’s hand flat against the chair and selected his pinky finger. He then bent it backwards to prevent Nathan from tucking it back into a fist. While he held his pinky back with one hand, he used his other hand to place the pinky in the bolt cutters. It took very little force to snip Nathan’s pinky finger off at the first knuckle.
Nathan began screaming and violently shaking the chair.
The other men came running in and saw blood pouring out of Nathan’s hand and onto the floor.
Whiskey Black Book Set: The Complete Tyrant Series (Box Set 1) Page 49