The boy’s school records showed that he had been given a tetanus booster shot just two years ago, so that wasn’t a problem. But the kid hadn’t reported the wound for almost a week, and by that time, the foot was swollen and the cut was draining pus. Debridement, antibiotics, and a few heartfelt prayers had saved his foot.
“Yes sir,” the kid replied. “Can I start back with my training?”
Kramer smiled. “One more week, Drake.”
Chris Newsome, the feed store owner, had a prepper group south of Winter Garden. A couple of months ago, he’d contacted Dr. Kramer and asked for some medical help for one of the people in his group. Afterwards, Newsome stopped by with some fresh beef from his ranch as a payment for Kramer’s help. On the way, he’d run across the school full of kids.
Newsome and his ex-military friends presented themselves as larger-than-life characters to the impressionable students. Jack Cunningham, the owner of a local gun store and a former Ranger, was downright intimidating. His arms were as thick as a small tree trunk, and with the warrior tattoos, heavy beard, and wraparound sun glasses, he looked like he’d just stepped out of a Hollywood casting call.
Of the remaining kids left at the school, all but four had begun firearm training. Cunningham stopped by on an almost daily basis and had eventually armed all the young men and women with a black rifle of some sort.
“I’m a squad leader, you know,” Drake said with pride. “My team needs me.”
Kramer smiled grimly and dismissed the young man.
“It’s sad,” he said to his wife later. “They’re too young to be doing this.”
Barb put her arm around her husband and gave him a squeeze. “Old people like us have been saying that for thousands of years. It’s always the young ones that pay the price for old people’s follies.”
Kramer began to clean the room, preparing to disinfect the counters and change the sheet on the exam table.
“Let Caroline do that. I have a surprise for you.”
He stopped and gave his wife a questioning look.
“Sergeant Bragg contacted Ed and has some information on Claire!”
“What? He got in touch with her?”
“Yep!” Barb said with glee. “Months of nothing, then Ed says that Bragg is going to relay some news to us tonight after dark.”
“Well, I’ll be,” Kramer replied. “Thank God.”
Barb wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck. She looked up him and wondered if her face was beaming as brightly as her husband’s was. A tear formed in Gerry’s eye and his lip began to quiver. He looked down, and she could see his joy.
“I’ve been so worried.” He sighed. “I hope she’s alright.”
“Me too, babe. Me too.”
The rest of the day dragged by; the minutes seemed like hours. But eventually, dusk settle and after dinner the three of them sat in the darkening living room, watching the kaleidoscope of colors from the rays of the setting Florida sun paint themselves on their living room wall.
“You know, I read once that the Florida sunsets get their colors from sand that is kicked up in Africa?”.
Barb, lost in thought, turned to her husband and gave him the “I’m calling B.S.” look.
“No, really. Claire told me, and I looked it up. The University of Florida did an upper atmosphere study above the peninsula and found sand particles from the Sahara Desert in the stratosphere. They think the sand from desert storms is carried across the Atlantic Ocean.”
“Hmm. Fascinating. Any other tidbits of useless information, Mr. Holmes?”
Kramer scoffed. But his wife did have a point; he was full of trivial information. It was a byproduct of his medical training, where even the most insignificant fact or minute anatomic structure had to be memorized. The best physicians tended to be good at remembering unimportant or useless information, so any Trivial Pursuit team needed a Gerry Kramer.
Barb saw her husband’s slightly hurt look and jumped up out of her chair. She plopped onto the couch next to him and nestled her head against his shoulder. The early summer heat was becoming oppressive, and their thermometer read ninety-five degrees in the shade earlier that day. The nights were still cool enough to endure, but in a few more weeks, that would change as well.
Barb sighed happily and saw her daughter’s disapproving look. She and Gerry had tried to nip Caroline’s budding relationship with the young boy next door in the bud, but the young people seemed to find alone time no matter what she did, and Barb was forced to accept the fact that she couldn’t watch her youngest daughter every hour of every day. Both her husband and Ed Grafton had given the young man “the talk” about the dangers of childbirth in this environment. Rob knew, in no uncertain terms, that crossing the line would earn him repercussions far greater than a scolding or extra chores. She’d just have to trust Caroline and Rob. There was nothing else she could do.
“Hey Caroline,” Barb said, “why don’t you go see if Rob wants some dessert? We have fresh strawberries, and I made some cake.”
The young girl got a questioning look on her face. “Okay, what’s the catch?”
“Yeah, what’s the catch?” her husband parroted.
“Nothing. You’re old enough to make your own decisions. You know the consequences of your actions.”
“What brought this about?” Gerry asked in total confusion.
“Claire. She’s alone, far away from us. She always restricted herself. Always studying. She never let herself enjoy life. And I don’t want Caroline to suffer too. If Rob makes her happy, then go for it. Just be careful!”
Caroline jumped up and rushed over to her parents. Hugging them both, she thanked them and dashed out into the dusky evening.
“That was quite an about-face,” Gerry said, stroking her wife’s hair.
“Well, it just seems right.”
“I’ll never understand you.”
“Good. I’m the only one that needs to understand me. You just need to listen and do what I say.”
Kramer grunted and patted her head. “Yes ma’am. I live to serve.”
They both smiled and watched the deep orange light of sunset morph into a wash of blues and purples.
“I love that African sand,” Barb said. “It’s like a prism, dancing light on our wall.”
“And I love you,” Kramer said. “You’re my prism, bringing color to my world. Thank you.”
Barb smiled. So sweet and sincere. Although she didn’t think it was possible until that moment, she fell even more deeply in love with her man. She closed her eyes and sighed.
Time slid by, and they drifted off to sleep. A knock on the door awoke them both some time later, and Barb bolted upright as the light from a half-moon filtered into the room.
“What time is it?” she asked, shaking the cobwebs from her brain. “And where’s Caroline? I told her to come back here.”
Kramer checked the watch Bragg had given him and was surprised to see that it was after nine p.m. Caroline had left over two hours ago.
Another knock brought them both off the couch. Gerry grabbed a candle from the coffee table, and they both went to answer the door. Barb opened it and saw Ed Grafton and Vernon Bragg standing on the front stoop.
“Mr. Bragg! What a surprise. I thought you were just sending a message.”
“Ah, Mrs. Kramer. I thought ya might have some more of that cake you make. I figured I’d bring the message myself and score some of yer cookin’.”
Both men had big grins plastered on their faces. Then Barb noticed all the other members of their group crowded on the stoop as well.
“Caroline!” Barb admonished. “I told you to come back home with Rob, not stay there.”
“Sorry, Mom,” Caroline said with a stupid grin on her face as well.
“What’s going on? It must be good news if you’re all here. Or is it bad?” Barb asked as her emotions ran the gamut from hope to fear.
“It’s good news, Mrs. Kramer.” Bragg said as he stepped bac
k, creating a tunnel between all their friend.
Barb struggled to see into the crowd. As she peered into the night, two military men dressed in camouflage fatigues strode forward. Each had a black rifle slung across their chest and were decked out in full battle gear.
“Who are you?” Barb asked.
“Just friends, delivering a message.” one of them said. He was smiling too.
They stepped apart revealing a thin, muscular woman dressed in military clothes.
“Mom!” Barb heard an achingly familiar voice cry out as her lost daughter materialized from the shadows of the night. “I’m home.”
***
Four hours later, after the tears and a well-deserved party concluded, the Kramers sat in their giant common room with the French doors open, a gentle breeze wafting in from the surrounding countryside.
Caroline and Rob sat on the living room couch, holding hands under a pillow that they had place between them. Barb smiled at their incompetent attempts to hide their PDA while Rachael, a nurse that had accompanied Claire on her trip, dozed off in one of the family room’s oversized chairs. Gerry and Claire were seated at the dining room table with Grafton and his men along with Bragg and the two soldiers that brought Claire home. Her tale of their escape from Tennessee was nothing less than remarkable.
After the bombing of the Guardsmen’s families, the men of the 278th and the Screaming Eagles of the 101st had decided to break up into small groups. Clustering together would have just invited more airstrikes, and with most of their comrades stranded in Afghanistan when the EMP went off, they were not even close to full strength.
Their new mission, as directed by their acting commanding officer, was to set up insurgent groups throughout the south and east. Claire had joined one such group on their trip from Fort Campbell to central Florida.
The two men who accompanied her were from the remnants of the Tennessee Armored National Guard unit. Other soldiers were nearby, scouring the state in search of patriots that wanted to fight back.
“The kids at the academy are raw,” Kramer was saying, “but they’re in shape and have had some basic tactical training.”
“And they’re armed,” Grafton added.
“That’s a start.” Sergeant Dixon said. “I’m not the one to train them, per se, but I’m going to add them to the list of potential recruits. I’ll turn them over to the special ops guys that brought us here.”
“So Newsome will be by here in six hours?” Specialist Sims asked.
“That’s what he said,” Bragg replied. “He wants ta talk with you about cordinatin’ yer two groups.”
The old sergeant had been communicating with Chris’s group since the beginning. But like any well-trained forward observer, he never let one group know about the other unless appropriate. It seemed that Bragg had given them a portable Hytera ham radio, just like the one he’d given Kramer only with a different chip that didn’t communicate on the same secure frequencies.
“I’ll get the Airborne boys here as well. Let them coordinate their own training,” Dixon said.
“So, what are your plans?” Ed asked the two military men.
“I guess we’ll see if Newsome’s group will take us in,” Dixon said.
“We sort of feel like a fifth wheel,” Sims added. “We’re not special ops by any means, but I suppose they could use some more bodies.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Grafton replied. “With the maintenance experience you boys have, and my equipment and experienced mechanics, we could provide and repair vehicles for the resistance.”
Everyone at the table sat silently. It was the first time anyone had said that word out loud. Resistance.
It was one thing to survive, to fight to keep your home and family safe. What Grafton had said crossed the Rubicon. Fighting their own government was treason no matter how corrupt it had become. The unspoken truth was finally out on the table. It was time to fight back.
“Wow. That sounded strange.” Grafton admitted after nearly a minute of silence.
“We could provide medical support,” Claire added, trying to move the conversation forward. “Rachael and I have treated plenty of trauma cases. With the right equipment and supplies, we could save a lot of lives.”
Kramer’s face was grim. He was elated to have his daughter back, and the thought of putting her into harm’s way once again was unpleasant to say the least. Constant worry had left Kramer tired, a kind of exhaustion that sleep couldn’t fix. When he saw his daughter just a few hours ago, a weight he’d been trying to ignore lifted. Now, he felt it starting to settle into place once again.
“How about you, Doc?” Dixon asked Kramer. “You up for the fight?”
Kramer looked at the people surrounding him. Their voices were full of patriotic energy, but he could see a tinge of uncertainty in their eyes. They wanted to believe, but they were waiting for his approval. Even Claire stared at him with anticipation.
“Well,” Kramer deadpanned, “It sounds so exciting, doesn’t it?”
The others sat back and glanced at each other. This wasn’t the answer they’d expected or maybe hoped for. But Gerry Kramer wasn’t one to sugarcoat a problem, nor give false hope for a solution. He’d learned that lesson years ago when he had almost given up medicine. Then, he had been saved through counseling and prayer. It was recognizing his limitations that made him the accomplished and revered doctor he’d become. He wasn’t about to change that now.
“I know you want to do something,” he began, “but I’m not sure you understand what that truly means.”
Kramer slowly rose from the table, leaving the others to watch him pace back and forth.
“We’ve been put into a terrible situation, by an event we had no control over. Now, our own government has gone rogue, crushing our rights and holding our countrymen hostage for some food and a dry place to sleep. We’ve had our rights taken away, all for a little security.”
Several of the others started nodding, and Dixon opened his mouth as if to speak.
“But does that mean we should fight them?” Kramer continued. “Is their way better? If we resist, many of you will end up dead.”
Kramer stopped pacing and gazed at each of them in turn. All of them looked shocked, but they still waited for his answer.
“I’m a proud Jew. And we, as Jewish people, know the consequences of a rogue government.”
He continued. “Think of it, over a million Armenians in Turkey suffered a similar fate at the hands of the Muslim government there. Many of you are Christians, and tens of millions of your faith were slaughtered under the Communists in Russia and China. And all of these acts of democide were committed in the last hundred years. By some accounts, over one hundred fifty million people were killed by their own government.”
He stood over his daughter and put his hands on her shoulders.
“What is the common denominator in all of these atrocities? An all-powerful government, unaccountable to the people. And what is the difference now? We have a Constitution that our military swore an oath to uphold. Not a king nor a president, but the Constitution. I, for one, am not planning on giving that up.”
Kramer looked at Dixon and Sims as he finished his speech.
“So my answer is the same as the one I gave when I was commissioned in the Air Force decades ago: I, Gerry Kramer do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; That I make this obligation freely, and without any mental reservations or purpose of evasion, So help me God!”
The table erupted in cheers. All of them leapt up and began to hug and slap each other’s backs as they pledged to do the same.
Gerry looked into the living room and saw his wife and youngest daughter standing next to each other, his wife’s arm around Caroline’s waist. Barbara was smiling and nodding her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. Kramer grinned back. It would hav
e been a lot harder if she hadn’t been on board, but thank God she’d seen it his way.
There was no more government of the people. It had become a sick shadow of its former self. Greedy and corrupt men were now in charge, and the blood of tyrants and patriots was about to be spilled. Kramer wasn’t going to sit by and let his Constitution be taken away. He’d put up a fight.
The second American civil war was about to begin. However, this time it was without state boundaries. This was going to be a very dirty war. Neighbors would be killing neighbors, and Kramer suspected that assassinations were going to be as much of this war’s tactics as frontal assaults and flanking maneuvers.
“We’ve got a lot to do,” Dixon said after the cacophony had died down. “We’ll start tomorrow.”
“Then let’s get some sleep,” Kramer said, seeing the sky beginning to lighten as the night gave way to the coming day. “We’d better enjoy our quiet time now while it lasts.”
It was going to be a long and brutal war. But what was there else to live or die for but their fellow patriots and a Constitution that reminded them all that they were born a free people, and that no government could take that natural right away.
CHAPTER 25
ORLANDO, FL
“Justice will not be served until those who are unaffected are as outraged as those who are.”
— Benjamin Franklin
A FEW DAYS FOLLOWING HIS ARRIVAL in Orlando, General Lester received a call from the hospital in Kentucky. His grandson had taken a turn for the worse, his body rejecting his grandmother’s marrow. Having intentionally killed off the young boy’s own deteriorating immune system in preparation for the transplant, young Bart Lester was living in a sterile tent with no way to fight an infection should he be exposed to one. Somehow, he had still caught a cold. With no white blood cells to battle the relatively mild virus, he was slipping away. Kuris stayed behind to continue their work as the general flew back to be with his family.
Charlie's Requiem: Resistance Page 21