Viral Resistance

by Robert Boren

  “New England and the Mid-Atlantic, according to the message boards,” Seth said. “There’s still martial law there that’s being enforced. There’s some rebellion, but nothing on the scale we’re seeing here.”

  “I expected martial law to be more successful here,” Garrett said. “The citizens of California have been surprising, and in a good way.”

  “You got that right,” Sam said.

  “What are we doing next?” Angel asked. “Are we gonna focus on fortification of this place, or are we gonna stage another attack?”

  “Both,” Ji-Ho said, “but details still need to be worked out on next attack. There’s been movement.”

  “I was just going to bring that up,” Garrett said. “I’m still seeing a flow of Islamists coming down from Julian.”

  “Does it look like they’re coming here yet?” Angel asked.

  “They haven’t gone south of Descanso yet,” Garrett said. “Some of them seem to be disappearing. Maybe they’ve built some underground facilities.”

  “Or maybe they’re using something natural,” Sam said, “caves, like Saladin’s main forces are doing in Capitol Reef.”

  “That may be diversion,” Ji-Ho said. “General Hogan working.”

  Trevor’s face changed, and he brought his phone to his face, looking at the screen.

  “What, man?” Seth asked.

  “Maybe they figured out that we can see them,” Trevor said. “Actually, how could they not know? Think about it.”

  “What made you bring up?” Ji-Ho asked, “and why you study apps?”

  “I’m not studying the apps, I’m looking at the web, to see if there are any good-sized caves or mines around Descanso or Julian.”

  “You don’t think they’re taking the chips out, do you?” Tyler asked.

  “Dammit,” Sam said under his breath.

  “Wait,” Sid said. “Think they could figure out a way to shield themselves?”

  “What do you mean?” Sam asked.

  “Say they could line their vans with something that would stop the signal of the RFID chips.”

  “That good question,” Ji-Ho said.

  “This reminds me of something we were talking about earlier,” Sam said. “Seth, think you could develop some metrics based on the RFID hits over time?”

  “Yeah, we were talking about that when we were driving here,” Garrett said.

  Seth thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, I could do that, but it would only show us data going forward. It’ll take a while for it to do us much good.”

  “I like,” Ji-Ho said. “If they shield and move, we catch them with historic data. We see chips disappear and re-appear.”

  “I’ll start working it tonight,” Seth said.

  “You’ve had a long day,” Sam said. “Maybe you ought to start in the morning.”

  “I’ve got ideas,” Seth said. “I won’t be able to sleep until I work them. You guys need me for anything? If not, I’m going back to my rig to get on the laptop.”

  “Go ahead,” Ji-Ho said. “Figure out. Very important.”

  “Yeah, dude, I’ll fill you in on what happened here,” Angel said.

  Seth got up, nodded to the group, and left.

  “Those apps are gonna go wide pretty soon no matter what, right?” Sam asked.

  “Yes, will,” Ji-Ho said. “Soon.”

  “Soon like tomorrow?” Garrett asked.

  “Soon like this month,” Ji-Ho said.

  “Geez,” Ryan said. “This isn’t great. We already know the UN is out there with no tracking devices, and now the Islamists might be able to hide themselves too? Didn’t we just say we were winning?”

  “Yes, we still winning,” Ji-Ho said. “Enemy lost war for hearts and minds. No way to recover.”

  “You don’t think we’re out of the woods yet, though, do you?” Sam asked, eyeing him.

  “Bad problems in Arizona, Utah, Colorado. Texas have massive cleanup job, nearly million fighters there. New England and Mid Atlantic not liberated. All hard. Citizens key to win battle, but other danger.”

  “What other danger?” Ed asked.

  “Government at all levels infested. Elected and un-elected enemy actors. Chip app release with names get many. Others who not on insider level survive, make trouble. Deep State. Very bad.”

  “I thought they were already targeting people using the name capability,” Sam said.

  “Still be battle,” Ji-Ho said. “Hide, destroy documents, make up stories, kill witnesses. Turmoil on level never seen. Bumpy ride.”

  “You guys aren’t getting hammered, are you?” Susanne asked in her raspy voice, coming into the saloon with Kaylee, Megan, Kaitlyn, Yvonne, and others. She turned to the women. “See, told you they’d be in the saloon.”

  Several of the women snickered.

  “Looks like the party’s over,” Ed said, trying to keep a straight face.

  “Hey, sis, come on over and have a drink,” Garrett said, holding up the bottle.

  “Land sakes, you guys are drinking up the best stuff. We’re gonna run out soon.” She walked over and watched as Willard poured her one, drinking it down without a shudder. “Damn that’s good. You girls want some of this. Get it while it’s still here.”

  “I’d rather just go back to our rig,” Kaitlyn said, looking around the room. “Hey, where’s Seth?”

  “He’s on special assignment,” Angel quipped.

  “Dangerous?” she asked.

  “No, computer work,” Sam said. “Don’t worry.”

  “I’m going over there, then,” Kaitlyn said, walking out the door.

  “You coming?” Kaylee asked Trevor. He shook his head yes and joined her, the other men joining their women too.

  “I tired, retire,” Ji-Ho said. “Don’t get discouraged. We win. Trust me.”

  “I know,” Garrett said. Ji-Ho walked out the door.

  “More old goats, just what we need,” Susanne muttered under her breath.

  “C’mon, Sis, don’t you have a date with Elmer?” Garrett asked.

  “That old fool?” she asked. “I kicked him to the curb again last night.”

  “Why?”

  “He wouldn’t leave me alone,” she said. “Thinks I’m scared or something.”

  “That’ll last another twenty minutes,” Garrett cracked.

  “Shut up,” she said, turning to leave. “Don’t stay up too late, and don’t drink up all of the good stuff.”

  The remaining men watched her walk out. As soon as she was out of sight, Willard grinned.

  “What now?” Garrett asked him. “I’ve seen that look before.”

  “Found something when I was trying to rig up new lights in the mine shaft,” he said.

  “What’s that?” Sam asked.

  He nodded to the back of the bar, and started walking in that direction, the others following. They went into the storage room, Willard unlocking the padlock on a door to the right. He pushed the door open and pulled the chain to turn the light on.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Garrett asked, going inside to look at five wooden crates.

  “It’s mostly not whiskey,” Willard said. “Brandy, gin, and rum.”

  “This crate says whiskey,” Garrett said.

  “Oh, yeah, there’s probably more whiskey than we had before, or pretty damn close,” Willard said. “Most of it’s still in the mine.”

  “Damn, brother, how much did you find down there?” Garrett asked.

  “Fifty-two cases like this, and some loose bottles,” he said. “Also some mixers and some champagne, but that’s all bad now.”

  “Geez,” Sam said.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t tell Susanne about it,” Willard said. “She’ll start rationing.”

  “You tell Elmer yet?” Garrett asked.

  “Yeah, he helped me carry it out here.”

  Garrett shook his head. “She’ll know about it by morning.”

  “I thought they broke up?” Ed asked. />
  Garrett chuckled. “Yeah, for the umpteenth time. They’ll wake up next to each other. Trust me.”

  The door behind them opened. “Hey, what’s going on?”

  “Hey, Elmer, just talking about you,” Willard said. “You still on the outs with Susanne?”

  Elmer grinned. “No, but she thinks we are. She wasn’t at her house a while ago. Seen her?”

  “She left here a few minutes ago,” Garrett said. “Willard just gave her a snort. You might want to go take advantage.”

  “Okay, I’d best be going,” he said, turning towards the door.

  “Elmer,” Willard called out.

  “Yeah,” he said, turning back.

  “You know all this booze probably got hid from somebody like Susanne, right?”

  He snickered. “You always think I tell her everything. Good night.”

  “She’ll know by morning,” Garrett said, big grin on his face.

  “Yeah, you know it’s true,” Willard said.

  {13}

  Bay Area Rampage

  I t was evening. Daan was standing on the roof of his building, looking at the glow of remaining light to the west. What’s he doing? He could see Ivan in his mind’s eye, grinning at him like a skull with a fedora. His phone dinged. He looked at it. Text message. No survivors at the auto mall. His mouth twisted into a grimace as he stuck the phone back in his pocket, then went to the staircase and left the roof, changing to the elevator for the ride down to the bunker.

  Saladin turned to him as he came into the lounge.

  “You look like you just saw a ghost,” he said.

  Daan ignored him, heading for the bar. He poured the last of the bourbon into a glass and drank it down, set the glass on the bar, and threw the empty bottle into the trash so hard that it broke.

  “You aren’t going to talk to me?” Saladin asked.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I don’t want to bite your head off. Turn on the TV. I want to see what the news is saying about this.”

  Saladin nodded and picked up the TV remote as Daan opened a fresh bottle of whiskey. He brought the bottle and his glass to the couch, putting them on the coffee table and sitting down. The news was showing the carnage at the Ford dealership, a banner at the bottom of the screen calling it a terror attack.

  “Did they mention what happened to the UN leadership down south yet?” Saladin asked.

  “No,” Daan said. “We’re suppressing that information.”

  “It’s already out on the alternative media, you know,” Saladin said, “I’ve been following it all day. Where have you been?”

  “Meetings with Brussels,” Daan said. “Bastards. They ought to come over here and deal with this. These people aren’t like Europeans. They don’t know how to take orders.”

  Saladin chuckled. “They’re like the people in my part of the world. They only understand power. We haven’t hit them hard enough.”

  “If the society fails, it’ll send the entire world into a depression,” Daan said. “You know this. We need the productive output of the United States to keep going at a certain level, or we’ll all suffer, and the people will resist even more.”

  Saladin laughed. Daan looked at him with dark eyes. “You don’t want to mess with me tonight. I had to take it from Brussels. I don’t have to take it from you.”

  “Calm down, my friend,” Saladin said. “We’ll break them. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “We’ll be lucky if we both survive this,” Daan said, pouring himself a drink. “Wait till George Franklin gets wind of your presence.”

  “If you don’t want us to mess with each other, we both must make an effort,” Saladin said.

  Daan sighed. “Okay, I’m sorry.” He poured another drink and tossed it back. Saladin watched, brow furrowed.

  “You might want to slow down a little.”

  Daan nodded, pushing the bottle and his glass away. “Fine. You’re right. What are you seeing on the alternative media?”

  “Huge amount of traffic,” Saladin said. “They’re getting many more eyeballs than your mainstream media now.”

  “Everybody knows those folks on the internet are nutcases. Tin foil hats.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Saladin said. “They’ve got us pegged pretty well, actually.”

  “Then what do we do?”

  “Deny all of it, of course,” Saladin said. “Capture and kill those who traffic in this alt network.”

  The TV screen went black.

  “Oh shit,” Daan said. “Here it comes.”

  The screen came back up, showing the top of Ivan the Butcher’s fedora. He slowly looked up at the camera.

  “Well, he does have style,” Saladin said. “I’ll give him that.”

  “Hello, fellow patriots,” he began. “Thought I was dead, didn’t you? Don’t believe the media. We’re coming to you from the new UN base. It was being readied for a group of high-ranking UN criminals. As you can see here, they won’t be coming.”

  “Dammit, those are our dead friends from the UN leadership,” Daan said. “Some of those men I’ve known since grade school.”

  “Why’s he showing this?” Saladin asked. “Interesting.”

  Daan shot him a sidelong glance.

  “This facility is at the abandoned auto mall in Elk Grove… the Ford Dealership, to be exact. The facility was to be used for training and staging UN personnel, who are on their way here in vast numbers, thanks to the people now running this great state. And who are these people?”

  Daan and Saladin watched as their pictures were put on the screen next to each other, mug shot style.

  “Son of a bitch,” Daan said, listening as Ivan said a few words about both of them. Saladin watched, his expression a mixture of anger and amusement.

  “As you can see behind me, we are in the room where UN dignitaries would’ve been entertained by kidnapped women. This is not the first time the UN and the Islamists have used our women for their own pleasure. We want it to be the last. The women seated behind me have all been held captive and abused by the enemy. They wish to tell you their stories. The women standing behind are other women who have just been rescued from this facility. Morgan, this was your idea. Would you like to go first?”

  “Oh no,” Daan said. Saladin chuckled.

  “You see why I got so mad at that idiot from UC Santa Cruz?” Saladin asked, shaking his head in disgust.

  “Your fighters partake as well, every chance they get,” Daan said.

  “Yes, but they kill them after a short period of time, not drag them around and share them with others,” Saladin said.

  Daan stared at him for a moment, then turned back to the screen and watched as the first woman gave her story.

  “This isn’t going to play well in Peoria,” Saladin said. “Isn’t that how they say it?”

  “Shut up,” Daan said.

  “We’ll have to get more ruthless. You know that, right? Economic downturn or not.”

  “I know,” Daan said. He poured himself another drink and sipped it as he watched, the glass shaking in his hand.

  ***

  San Francisco was a battle zone. A battered Ford Excursion raced towards the pier.

  “What are we doing on the Embarcadero?” Sanchez asked, worry on his black-bearded face. “It’s not a trap like last time, right? I’ve seen five UN vans since we left the restaurant.”

  “Relax,” Joosten said. His hands were on the wheel of the SUV, his long gray hair shaggy, blowing in the wind of the open window. “We’re going to Pier 35. You really ought to be keeping track of the message boards. Hell, I’m old. You’re supposed to be more up on this crap than I am.”

  “Why’d I have to come, anyway?”

  “We’ve got a bunch of stuff to load into the back. Stan and Terry are following us, a couple blocks back, with their pick-up.”

  “You believe this stuff too much,” Sanchez said. Joosten stared at him for a moment.

  “Why are you with us?”
/>
  Sanchez was quiet for a moment. “Stan talked me into it.”

  “If you don’t believe in this, don’t risk your life.”

  “I’m in love with him,” Sanchez said.

  “Duh. Why aren’t you riding with him, then?”

  “He’s not as committed to the relationship as I am,” Sanchez said, his eyes starting to tear up. “Why are you here? You’re too old to be running around with guns now.”

  “I did just fine this morning,” Joosten said. “I haven’t given back enough. This country is worth fighting for.”

  “This country has treated people like us badly,” Sanchez said.

  “No, actually they haven’t. The Islamists who have been helping these globalist UN jerks like to throw us off buildings when they get control. Why do so many of us not see that as a problem? If we lose, they’ll be staying in our population, and growing in power. That’s death to people like us.”

  A siren started up behind them. Sanchez turned around to look. “Police car. I thought they were all locked up.”

  Joosten grinned. “Look, he’s chasing down that UN van. See it?”

  “The cop in the passenger seat has his shotgun out,” Sanchez said. “Oh shit!”

  The back door of the UN van opened, a man with an AK-47 aiming at the police cruiser. The Peacekeeper pulled the trigger, shooting the cop in the passenger seat just as he fired the shotgun, both men hit and killed. The vehicles swerved, the van hitting the curb and rolling into a building, the police cruiser slamming into the back of it.

  “Whoa!” Joosten said, slamming on the brakes.

  “What are you doing?” Sanchez yelled.

  “I’m going to help,” he said, picking up his pistol from the center console. He rushed out in a crouch.

  “Stay back,” the officer yelled, holding one arm. “The men in the front aren’t dead.”

  “I’m armed, officer,” Joosten said as he rushed over. Sanchez got out and was heading for the area like nothing happened. Machine gun fire erupted, hitting Sanchez in the face and neck, killing him instantly.

  “Dammit,” the officer said, looking back at Joosten, who had his pistol in a two-handed grip. He fired four times, hitting the UN Peacekeeper with the machine gun.

  “Got the son of a bitch,” Joosten said.