“That’s right. We think it’s deeper than that, but that’s what we know so far.”
“This is worse than I could have imagined.”
“Hey, look, you said you were hungry. This topic will make you lose your appetite. C’mon. Follow me.”
Markus started to walk away and looked back over his shoulder to see Rory talking to himself.
“Are you talking to yourself?”
“Oh, ha-ha, no, I’m saying a prayer.”
“Are you a religious man?”
“I was a pastor before the Flip. Now I’m doing what I can.”
“We could use a chaplain, if you’re approved by the board.”
“The board?”
“We have a community here. We keep a low profile and move from place to place to avoid being captured.”
“I see. I’d like to meet your community, but like I said before, I’m on a mission.”
“Well, when you finish your prayer, come down to the tenth floor. I’ll tell them you’re coming. We’ll be expecting you.”
“Thank you, Markus.”
Rory stayed on the roof, taking in all that he had learned from Markus. He felt like throwing up, but there was something in the way the world had changed that had changed him. He was starting to feel more calloused than he had ever felt, and that feeling of callousness wasn’t a soothing feeling for him. He felt that it made him feel distant from his humanity. The more he thought on it, the more he realized that it wasn’t making him less human, but it was making him more primal. It was the feeling of primality that made him uncomfortable. He was reconciling the primality with his Christianity by reciting Bible scriptures in his mind. He was very well versed in scripture and positive that his view of self-defense was completely scriptural.
Jesus had his disciples carrying swords, he thought, and, The correct rendering of THOU SHALT NOT KILL is THOU SHALT NOT MURDER.
A host of other relevant scriptures were combed through in his mind until he was able to justify the future, and necessary, killing of the genocidal madmen that were plaguing his country. He stood up straight and went down through the hatch of the roof and to the tenth floor.
The entire tenth floor had all the windows boarded up with wood or furniture. It was like walking through skid row with multiple residents at every door, filling the rooms and covering the floors with sleeping spaces.
From what he could tell, these people were packing light, in case they had to leave again.
Slowly walking down the hallway, the smell of human waste was sometimes overwhelming. He found himself covering his nose, but remembered he was a guest and did not wish to offend them. When he thought to do so, he would uncover his nose and try breathing through his mouth. This worked, for the most part, but sometimes he felt he could taste the odors.
Markus saw him walking down the hallway and waved to him, catching Rory’s attention. Rory turned towards him and followed him to the end of the hall.
Markus opened a door and stepped aside so Rory could walk in first.
Rory was nervous about walking into a strange room first, so he said, “No, you go first, I insist.”
“No problem, just trying to be cordial.”
Markus walked in first and Rory followed.
Rory walked into the room and saw a few nicely dressed individuals. Sitting at an elongated table were twelve men and women. They weren’t dressed like the people in the hallways, and the room didn’t have a bad odor.
“Rory, I would like you to meet our board.”
Rory took a quick glance around the table and saw that each one of them had a name plate in front of them. Reasoning to himself, he knew that these name plates weren’t manufactured for them after the Flip, so either these people were important before the Flip or the names weren’t real. He reserved his thoughts to himself and chose not to address the matter.
“Hello, I’m Rory. I’m so glad to meet you.”
Markus looked at the board and said, “This here is Rory; he’s a pastor.”
There was one person at the table that did the speaking after the introduction. His name plate was engraved as Thomas Burgess.
“Pastor Rory, do you have a last name?”
“Yes, sir. It’s Price, Rory Price.”
“Pastor Price, we would like to know more about your work as a pastor.”
“Okay, let’s see, I was called to preach more than two decades ago and went to Bible College in Indiana. After obtaining my bachelor’s in Theology, I did some home missions work and eventually settled down and started pastoring in Murphysboro, Illinois.”
“Really? We see you have a rifle. What’s your view on killing?”
“Well, I was just thinking on that topic a few minutes ago, actually. I believe killing and murdering to be two separate acts. One is done in self-defense or in defense of something greater than yourself, where virtue is at the forefront as a guidepost for matters of right and wrong. I believe a person’s conscience is also a key point. If killing for the purpose of self-preservation offends your conscience, then you have a right to die with a clear conscience.”
“That’s an interesting point of view. So, to summarize, you believe killing, when done for self-preservation, is all right and not necessarily considered murder?”
“That’s correct, sir. Even Jesus let his disciples carry swords and, at one point, told them to go into town to buy some.”
“What about the scripture where that one disciple cut off the ear of a Roman soldier?”
“Jesus knew Peter had a sword. The sword wasn’t for hunting, it was for self-defense. Times were tough. When he cut off the ear of the Roman centurion, Jesus told him to put away the sword because he was interfering with the plan of the cross. He had already told Peter the design for New Testament salvation. He told him he was going to die and rise again on the third day. But Peter was zealous and sometimes his brawn overrode his brains.”
“I see. So if I asked you to kill for the sake of the greater good, you would do it?”
“I’m not inclined to do anything you say, sir. I’m not sure what this meeting is about, but I will kill where killing is necessary to insure the survival of myself, my family, and my country, so help me God!”
Thomas turned to the lady on his right and whispered in her ear. She then turned back to face Thomas and nodded her head yes at him.
Thomas looked at Markus and said, “Mr. Hopkins, would you see Pastor Price out of the room while we discuss things for just a moment?”
“Sure.”
Markus opened the door and he and Rory stepped out.
“What’s this about, Markus?”
“We have been looking for a pastor for some time. With the jihadists running about rural Chicago, we’ve been unable to find one. They’ve all been captured, killed, and burned. Some have had it even worse than that.”
“I’m on a mission already, Markus. I’m not sure I’m up to the task.”
“Let’s wait on the board and see what they have to say. You can make your decision then.”
Within minutes the door opened back up and Thomas Burgess invited them back into the room.
Thomas sat down and then looked back at Rory and said, “Pastor Price, we would be honored if you would stay here and be a part of our community. We could really use a spiritual advisor on our board.”
Rory was thinking fast for a proper answer to the offer at hand. He didn’t know these people and they could be the very best of humanity or, in a worst-case scenario, the worst of humanity. He had to think quickly in order to buy himself some time.
Rory looked at Thomas and said, “Sir, it’s an honor to be asked to do such a thing, but it’s customary that I pray about every decision I make.”
“I respect that reply. Take all the time you need and know that we are here to assist in the betterment of our society.”
“Thank you for seeing me. Have a good day, ladies and gentlemen.”
Markus escorted him out of the room and dow
n to the main lobby area.
“Where are you taking me now?”
“I would like to show you around our little community.”
Rory followed Markus out of the building and to an area of town that was a couple blocks down the road. Looking up into the buildings, Rory could see armed guards standing in the rooms as they were looking out.
“What’s going on here?”
“This is how we survive, Rory. I’m taking you to my home. You can meet my family.”
Rory was receiving mixed vibes from the whole experience. Something seemed a little off-kilter, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
Markus led him into a three-story building, past a few armed guards, and into a room.
Standing in the middle of a dining room area was a woman.
“Honey, I’d like you to meet my new friend Rory.”
The compliment of being called a friend was heartwarming to him, but the awkwardness of walking into a strange room where a wife was caught off guard took precedence over the comment.
“Hello, ma’am, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
A young girl came out of the kitchen and snuggled up to the woman.
“This is my wife, Kara, and my daughter, Elise.”
“Hello,” Kara said as she pulled Elise in close.
“Don’t worry about Rory. He’s a pastor. He’s going to pray about being our new minister.”
“New minister?” Rory asked. The comment caught his attention.
Kara answered, “Our last minister caught a guilty conscience.”
“That’s enough, Kara,” Markus said, interrupting her to silence her information sharing.
Rory was catching bits and pieces of a puzzle that he was working desperately to solve, and the whole time he was feeling uncomfortable in his own skin. He was driven by both a desire to survive and a desire to know the truth.
Choosing not to press the matter of the guilty-conscience comment, he took a moment to hear a humming sound that sounded like electricity.
“Do I hear electrical power?” he asked.
“Yes, yes, we have generators and food in the fridge. We don’t have running water yet, but we’re working on that one still.”
“Food in the fridge?”
“Oh yes, I was going to feed you. Sorry that I was sidetracked by our visit to the board. Honey,” he said, looking to Kara, “could you put some meat on for our new guest?”
“You’ve got meat?”
“All will be revealed in time. Relax yourself. It’s probably been a long while since you’ve eaten this good.”
Just Outside of Black Hills Ordnance Depot, Edgemont, South Dakota
It had been a two-day trip for General John James, Admiral Belt McKanty, Lieutenant Colonel Charles Buchanan, Gunnery Sergeant Franks, Captain Kurt Riley, Sergeant First Class Benjamin Reynolds, and many others. They had mapped the terrain and roads out before they left Valparaiso, Indiana, and counted on a fifteen- to seventeen-hour trip if they went nonstop and traded out drivers. Along the way, they had only stopped to refuel and to empty their bladders.
The group was now closing in on their destination and they were eager to see if the secret Marine Corps regiment was up to par.
General James looked over at Lieutenant Colonel Buchanan and said, “Charles, tell the men we’re pulling over one last time. We’re going to make sure our gear’s together so we can at least look professional when we pull into the depot.”
“Roger that, John.”
James and Buchanan were in the back seat of the third HMMWV. The driver was a lance corporal named Leroy Bennett, and his front-seat passenger was Gunnery Sergeant Franks.
There had been a lot of hoopla over using first names now that the apocalypse had come. The commandant insisted on being more relaxed with some things, but maintaining strict discipline in other areas. He didn’t see any harm with a change in name protocol; and while Buchanan was initially uneasy with it, he eventually opened up to using first names. Gunny, on the other hand, had shared his first and middle name far more than any other. When asked what his name was, he would reply, “My first name is Gunnery, my middle name is Sergeant, and my last name is Franks. My close friends call me Gunny, for short.” With that being said, Gunny only had a couple close friends, and they were the people calling on him. To all others, his name was Gunnery Sergeant Franks.
Buchanan patted Franks on the shoulder and said, “Did you copy what John said?”
“Yes, sir.”
Franks grabbed the mic that was sitting near his feet and called out to the rest of the convoy.
“Attention Romeo Lima,” he said, referring to Operation Returning Liberty, “This is Echo Seven Foxtrot. We are nearing Alpha Oscar,” referring to the area of operation, “so break out your moon floss and toothpaste. We’re going to empty ourselves and look sharp going in. Over.”
Buchanan looked at Franks and said, “Did you have to say moon floss on the radio?”
“Probably not, sir. But I figured with all the lax chatter, I might catch a break to be myself again.”
“You’ll get your chance real soon. All this travel isn’t doing well for honing poor combat skills.”
The convoy came to a stop and the Marines, militiamen, and civilians that were traveling alongside the general stepped out and found themselves private spots where they could use their moon floss. Moon floss was the term the Marines used for toilet paper. It had become a popular term years prior to the Flip.
Within a few minutes, Gunny was yelling at everybody to fall in, a military term for get into formation.
Once again, the civilian militiamen were standing in their formation and trying their best to mimic the military men and veterans.
When everybody was in their place, Buchanan took his position in front of all the units and waited on James to address the men. They were considering their environment an active war zone, so they did not salute one another, although any person watching from afar could see who was in charge by who was giving the orders.
James walked up to Buchanan and said, “Let’s look at everybody casually and not make much of a scene. Some of these men are under oath, but all of them are volunteers and at liberty to leave at any time.”
“Yes, sir.”
Both men began looking over the units. Buchanan asked his officers and senior enlisted to help them. Within a few minutes they were done and loading back up into the convoy.
Colonel Edward Hensworth, and Lieutenant Colonels Cody Barker, Zachary Barnes, Jack Wright, Bobby Cox, and David Howard were notified that a very large convoy of US military vehicles and civilian POVs (privately owned vehicles) was entering into their area of operation. Hensworth gave the command and the lieutenant colonels issued orders to set up a security perimeter.
The Army depot was massive in size. Given the size alone, there was no way to secure the entire perimeter with a regiment. The colonel had set up a specific perimeter that was manageable for the size of his regiment. When the word came for them to secure it, they sprang into action and took control of the zone.
There was nothing coming into or leaving the area they had secured without authorization. Seeing the regiment was secretly placed there, only one person knew of its whereabouts, and that was Commandant John James.
Looking forward into the horizon, the men could see several CH-53E Super Stallion helicopters lifting into the air and taking control of the perimeter. Two of the choppers took an attack position, one with its port side to the convoy and the other with its starboard side to the convoy. It probably wasn’t enough firepower to stop them, given the fact they were heavily armed with antitank weaponry and heavy guns, but it was enough to make the statement that this area was under strict control.
The area was not fenced in and was open on all sides. The front of their convoy was approached by several Marines in battle fatigues. They walked towards the lead vehicle as they came to a stop. The Marines checked the first vehicle and gave them clearance. The
second vehicle in the convoy was then approached by the Marines. It was given the same clearance and entered the depot. The Marines then approached the HMMWV and the Marine recognized the commandant.
“Sir, we’ve been anxiously awaiting your arrival.”
“Thank you, Marine, I’m glad to be here.”
“Sir, are the rest of these vehicles with you?”
“Yes, they are. They’ve come a long way and they’re good men and patriots.”
“Yes, sir. You’re clear,” the Marine said with gladness as he waved the rest of the vehicles into the depot’s security perimeter.
Arsenal Island, formerly known as Rock Island Arsenal
Roughly four hundred high-ranked enlisted UN soldiers worked at Arsenal Island. For years, the formal name had been bounced back and forth from Rock Island Arsenal to Arsenal Island. When Muhaimin had come into possession of the State of Illinois, he went with Arsenal Island, because he figured it brought anonymity to the munitions manufacturer.
They had recently received a call from Muhaimin demanding a census of the island and a list of military-manufactured equipment and munitions. The list gave him logistics and ground superiority that he never knew he had. Along with this new set of capabilities came a reassurance of certain victory against a growing patriot resistance.
Muhaimin had almost no sea support. The French and the Iranians had a small navy, and the Russians were using their navy to secure new lands in Eastern Europe. Russia had been a growing threat since the turn of the millennia. Their donation of troops to the UN was a sideshow distraction to relieve the pressure that the UN was putting on them regarding the occupation of Ukraine and other hostile territorial takeovers. With almost no support coming in from sea, Muhaimin was glad to receive the list of logistical support that was being manufactured in America.
Among the manufactured items being produced at Arsenal Island were MREs (meals ready-to-eat), Colt-style service rifles and 5.56 mm NATO ammunition, M225B Black Voids (2028 model tanks with gun-howitzers and heavy machine gun turrets), grenade launchers, shrapnel vests, and helmets.
Whiskey Black Book Set: The Complete Tyrant Series (Box Set 1) Page 51