by Robert Boren
Is this going to be too little, too late?” Shelly asked.
“The citizens must join,” Jules said, his brow furrowed. “They must trust. It might not be easy, but we already in fight.”
“This is a good development,” Sparky said. “At least I hope it is.”
“Look, he’s done already,” Karen said, watching the men leave the stage.
“Do you want to watch the talking heads?” Dana asked. “I think I’ll go outside.”
“They partly responsible for problem,” Jules said, standing. “I go call Ivan.”
He left the coach, Shelly following him. They both froze as the gate of the compound opened.
“What’s that?” Shelly asked. Their battle wagon rolled through the gate.
“They fix!” Jules said. “We got home back!” They watched as the massive rig was driven in, making a K-turn and backing into an empty space at the north end of the row.
{16}
Northern Recruitment
J onathan sat in his Bend, Oregon apartment, next to his girlfriend Courtney. He was a well-built young man in his late twenties, wearing a t-shirt and board shorts, with tattoos on his arms and a shaved head. She was small and blonde, both ears covered with rings, tattoos on her upper arms and neck, with a hint of more beneath her ragged sweatshirt.
“Let’s go someplace,” Courtney said. “I’m bored.”
“In a while,” Jonathan said. “I want to see if they say more about those EU Navy ships.”
She stared at him for a moment, her eyes intense below her nearly invisible blonde eyebrows. “Looking to get arrested again?”
He looked at her and chuckled. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Well count me out, and don’t expect me to use my savings bailing you out again.”
He chuckled. “You like what you see going on in California? I don’t. Those EU ships are bringing over UN Peacekeepers.”
“They aren’t bothering us here.”
“As long as we keep our mouths shut and let them continue to castrate our society,” Jonathan said. His phone rang. “Jared.” He hit the speaker button. “Hey, dude, what’s up?”
“You see the reports of the globalist invasion?” he asked in a thin voice. People in the background chuckled.
“Who’s with you?” Jonathan asked.
“I’m gonna get something to eat,” Courtney said, getting off the couch and going into the dingy kitchen section of the room. She moved dirty dishes around the sink, clanking them as loud as possible, Jonathan shooting her a disgusted look.
“Well?” Jonathan asked.
“Cory, Noah, and Devin,” he said. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” Jonathan said. “You know we’re being watched, right?”
“Of course. Screw them. You see what I’m talking about?”
“I heard that there were some EU Navy ships planning to come up the river to Portland Harbor. They ought to get on well there.”
Jared snickered. “They’re being chased by the US Navy.”
“Bullshit,” Jonathan said, shooting a glance at Courtney as she sat down with a yogurt, rolling her eyes at the phone.
“No, really, man,” Jared said. “Did you see those videos of San Francisco and Oakland? The patriots won.”
“Funny, the news hasn’t said anything about it,” Jonathan said sarcastically. That brought another eye roll from Courtney.
“Yeah, it’s funny all right. The videos go up on YouTube, then come down, then get re-posted. I’ve got copies of all of them on my blog. Go take a look, man. It’s awesome.”
“What are you hearing about the ships?” Jonathan asked.
“I heard they were heading to San Francisco with sixty-thousand UN Peacekeepers, to replace forces that Ivan the Butcher has been taking out.”
Jonathan glanced at Courtney as she grabbed the remote and turned on MTV. “We need somebody like that here, or the whole damn state is gonna end up like Portland.”
“They laid Portland out in grids and have checkpoints set up, just like they tried in California,” Jared said. “They won’t call it martial law, of course. At least they’re being manned by the Portland PD instead of the UN.”
“Until now,” Jonathan said. Courtney raised the volume way up on the TV. Jonathan ripped the remote out of her hands, shut the TV off, and tossed the remote onto the battered chair by the opposite wall.
“Hey, dammit, I was watching that,” she said.
“Leave,” Jonathan said. “I’ve had enough.”
“Fine,” she said, stomping into the bedroom.
“Trouble in paradise?” Jared asked.
“She left the room. Mission accomplished.”
“When are you gonna kick her to the curb?”
“I don’t know,” Jonathan said. “Back to the ships. You believe they’re bringing the UN Peacekeepers here?”
“To administer Portland’s martial law? Doubtful. There are plenty of fascists running Portland already, and there are plenty of their lackeys to keep a compliant population under control.”
“What, then?” Jonathan asked.
“I think they’re getting chased in here, like I was saying. It’ll be interesting to see if the US Navy follows them in.”
Jonathan’s phone dinged with an email receipt. “What’s that?”
“I just sent you a link to the recruitment page from California.”
“Recruitment page?” Jonathan asked.
“Yeah,” Jared said. “Ben Dover. Remember him?”
Jonathan snickered. “Love the name. That guy’s killer. What about him? They recruiting for California? We’ve got just as bad problems here.”
“Things here aren’t as bad as they are in Cali,” Jared said. “Not yet, anyway. We don’t have UN thugs pushing the population around. You see that video with the women? Talking about the UN rape operations?”
“Was that for real? The media says it’s fake.”
Jared laughed. “It’s real, trust me. That’s why I’m bothered by a boatload of UN punks showing up here.”
“Does Ben Dover say something about it?”
“He warned of them looking for a safe haven from the US Navy,” Jared said. “If they can’t go elsewhere, they might set up shop here–and I suspect they’ll be going to the places where there are still patriots in control.”
“Like here,” Jonathan said, his heart pounding all of a sudden. “What do you suggest we do?”
“Ben Dover’s site can help us. There’s an easy procedure to set up affiliates for recruitment in other states. I say you and I and our buds set up a central Oregon affiliate.”
“Why would we want to do that?” Jonathan asked. “We’ve still got control here.”
“I think we ought to organize a proper welcome for our friendly UN Peacekeepers.”
“If we go there, we’re liable to get shot or thrown into prison.”
“Don’t be a wuss, Jonathan. With our low population, sixty thousand UN Peacekeepers could get martial law going in Central and Eastern Oregon. You know that.”
“Our local law enforcement might have something to say about that.”
“You know what they did in California. They sidelined the local authorities. Want that to happen here?”
Jonathan sighed. “No. You know I don’t. What do you suggest?”
“Use the link. I’m setting up an affiliate page right now. There will be a link on Ben Dover’s page in about five minutes.”
“What do you want me to do, exactly?” Jonathan asked.
“Spread the link around to all of the message boards you know about. We’re doing the same thing. Flood the internet with it. I’ll have one of my articles on the top explaining what’s going on with the EU Navy ships and the UN. I’ll also link the videos of the women in California and battle video from San Francisco, Oakland, and Sacramento.”
“Sacramento has been liberated?” Jonathan asked.
“Almost,” Jared said. “Understand?”
“Wh
en do we expect the EU Navy ships to show up?”
“Late tonight or early tomorrow morning. The snowflakes are planning a massive welcoming demonstration for tomorrow morning at ten. State sanctioned, of course.” There were chuckles in the background.
“How are we gonna get up there in time?” Jonathan asked.
“It’s only three and a half hours,” Jared said. “I say we get on the road no later than six tomorrow morning. We ought to have a huge crowd rolling towards there by then.”
“We aren’t going to get enough people from this part of the state,” Jonathan said. “We’ll have to recruit a lot of the sane people in Portland.”
“I understand,” Jared said. “You have some inroads in that community. Use them.”
“Okay, I’ll get started right away,” Jonathan said. “Talk to you later.”
“Later, dude,” Jared said. The call ended, and Jonathan rushed to the kitchen table to fire up his laptop. He stared for a moment at the closed door of his bedroom, then logged on, getting to Ben Dover’s recruitment site in seconds. The Oregon link was already up, so he clicked on it, then chuckled at the cheesy graphics that Jared placed on the front page. The links to the videos were there. He clicked on the video of California women’s testimony and watched it in silence, his eyes tearing up, his fists balled tight. He wiped his eyes when it was over, then looked at that closed bedroom door.
“Hey, Courtney, get your ass out here. You have to see this.”
After a moment the door opened slowly, and she came out, brushing her long blonde hair away from her face. “What now?”
“Sit,” he said, getting out of the way. He clicked the link for the video, and watched as Courtney’s eyes got wider and wider.
***
Robbie sat at his laptop in the dinette of the battle wagon, watching the high-res long-range app. He was making notes on a pad of paper. Morgan, Dana, and Karen came in, still chatting.
“Hey, honey, they put out some beer at the building over there, if you’re interested,” Morgan said. He looked up at her for a moment and smiled, then looked back down at his laptop.
“What’s he doing?” Dana asked in a hushed tone.
“I’m using this new high-res app,” he said, looking up at them again. “There’s some movement we ought to be keeping track of.”
“Uh oh,” Morgan said, walking to the dinette. “What?”
“See this?” he asked, pointing to a thin line of icons heading west on Interstate 80. “They’re trying to hide their numbers. See how they’re all spread out?”
“I thought the Islamists were all heading south,” Karen asked, walking over to look.
Dana followed her reluctantly, fear creeping over her face. “I thought we were gonna get a break for a while.”
“Do you think they’re coming here?” Morgan asked.
“No,” Robbie said. “If they were coming for us, they would’ve gotten on Highway 49 in Auburn. See?” He pointed at the screen.
“Not all of them have passed Auburn,” she said.
“True, but it’s not a huge group. I see just under a hundred.”
“Where’d they come from?” Karen asked.
“Nevada,” Robbie said. “The tail end was still on that part of the road when I noticed. They’re moving fast.”
“They’re going to Sacramento,” Dana said after looking at the map for a moment. “Maybe they’re going to attack the Capitol again. They’ve got to be pissed about losing it.”
“That’s not enough people for an assault on the Capitol,” Robbie said, “it’s still crawling with our people.”
“What, then?” Morgan asked.
“I don’t know,” Robbie said, “but the fact that they’re trying to hide themselves tells me they have an operation going. Maybe a kidnapping, or a hit on a small strategic target.”
“Zoom in on Sacramento,” Morgan said. Robbie nodded and did that. “Look. Three hits. Right there. See them?” Robbie zoomed in.
“Crap,” Karen said, looking closely at the screen. “See what those hits are near?”
“Uh oh,” Robbie said. “The State CHP headquarters. They’re going to hit that. I’ll bet what’s left of the leadership is there right now, because of the orders from Governor Hause.”
“He’s the speaker,” Dana said.
“Until we elect a new governor, he’s the governor,” Robbie said, pulling his phone out. “Jules needs to see this.” He texted Jules and asked him to come over.
“I’ll send a message to Tex too,” Karen said.
“They were together with Sparky, so they’ll all be here in a sec,” Dana said.
Robbie got off the dinette bench and turned the laptop so it was pointing out into the salon. “Now we can all see it.” He sat back down on the other side of the dinette and grabbed the mouse, zooming out to show the stream of fighters coming in.
“We here,” Jules said, climbing up the steps, Tex and Sparky following him. “What happen?”
“There’s a stream of Islamists coming southwest on I-80,” Robbie said, “and a few hits near the CHP headquarters.”
Jules, Sparky, and Tex shot each other a glance.
“Dammit,” Sparky said. “The CHP is just starting to get back together. The leadership is probably all there right now.”
“I call Ivan,” Jules said. “We might need to show up.” He walked out of the coach with the phone to his ear.
“Glad I didn’t drink much of that beer,” Tex said.
“Seriously,” Karen said.
Jules rushed back inside. “Ivan said go. Get ready.”
“We’ve only got five battle wagons left,” Sparky said.
“We take off-roaders. Let’s go. Chop chop.”
The team was at the gate within minutes, Robbie and Morgan second in the line of coaches, the off-roaders all around them. Tex was in the lead.
“Wish we had more battle wagons,” Morgan said. “A hundred Islamists is a lot.”
“We’ve got a lot of firepower,” Robbie said as he drove forward. “It’ll be enough.”
Their phones dinged with a text message. Morgan brought it up. “There’s sixty CHP officers at the headquarters, and they’ve all got M60s and M4s. They’re setting up an ambush.”
“Excellent,” Robbie said as he drove. “We might not beat them there, you know.”
“I think we’ll be there before the battle starts,” Morgan said. “Assuming they won’t start the attack until the entire force gets there. Some of them are still as far back as Colfax.”
“Good,” Robbie said as they blasted west on Highway 50. It was late afternoon. More people were out than they were used to, now that the enemy had lost control of the area.
“The first of them just made the transition to Highway 160,” Morgan said.
“Does it still look like the CHP headquarters is the target?”
“Oh, yeah,” Morgan said. “That’s the way to get there, unless they want to run through a bunch of surface streets in Sacramento.”
They rode silently for a few minutes, both worried about the battle to come.
“Look, there’s Rancho Cordoba already,” Robbie said. “We’re making good time. Where should I get off?”
She didn’t answer right away. He glanced at her, staring at her screen.
“I think they’re setting up mortars or something,” Morgan said. “The first group stopped before the bridge. They’re on the far side of the American River.”
“Text the others, in case nobody noticed,” Robbie said.
Morgan nodded and did that, getting returns right away. “They see it. Jules plans to send off-roaders into that area.”
“Where should I get off Highway 50?”
“Still working on that,” Morgan said, her fingers pinching out on the screen to zoom in. “This sucks. Any way we go, it’s a slog through surface streets. I suggest getting off on Sixteenth Street. That would put us in position to fire on enemy vehicles as they come over the brid
ge.”
“Give me some warning when we get close, okay?”
“Of course,” Morgan said. “The second group just crossed the bridge.”
“Is the first one still across the river?”
“Yep, at the closest point from which to lob shells,” Morgan said. “Second group just got on Vine street.”
“Where will that put them?”
“If they stay on it, northeast of the CHP building,” she said. “Here comes a third group.”
“On Vine?”
“Just getting onto the bridge,” she said.
“Oh. Our street is only two and a half miles away now.”
“Great, we’ll be there at a good time. These slugs have no idea what kind of hornets’ nest they’re about to hit.” She grinned at him.
“I’m worried about those mortars,” Robbie said.
“The third group is on Richard’s Boulevard. That’ll give them a force to the south of the CHP building.”
“Where are the original hits?”
“Same place they’ve been,” Morgan said. “Looks like an apartment building off Seventh Street, right across from the CHP headquarters.”
“Lovely. They’ve probably got weapons stored there, all ready to go.”
“They haven’t been there long,” Morgan said. “We would’ve seen them before.”
“True, they probably didn’t expect the legislature to re-start the CHP.”
“Exactly,” she said. “Another two groups heading over the bridge.”
“There’s our off-ramp,” Robbie said, watching off-roaders and Tex’s coach taking it. “Guess they figured out the way too. Maybe we ought to get on Seventh Street instead. That would put us to the west. Might come in handy.”
“We can get to the bridge before the rest of the enemy force shows up,” Morgan said. “I think we ought to take this exit, because we can limit the attack by taking out the stragglers coming over the bridge.”
“How many stragglers are we talking about?”
“A third of the force,” Morgan said. “Maybe straggler isn’t the best word.”
“Okay, I’m convinced,” he said, smiling at her as he took the off-ramp.
“The last of them are right by the Haggin Oaks golf course,” Morgan said. “This is gonna be close.”