I look at Ron and say; “The shit’s going to hit the fan now.”
Ron replies, Brad, you know a few of the local militia leaders don’t you?”
“Ron, how are you asking me this? As a sheriff or as my concerned friend?”
“As your friend.”
“Then meet me here at 2:30AM”
“Didn’t you hear what the President said about a curfew?”
“Bullshit, he also said no fines will be issued for a while, tonight everyone’s going to be confused, if you're serious be here at 2:30 and don’t wear your uniform, a few of these good old boys won’t like it.”
“See you in a few hours.”
Chapter 4
The Secretary of Homeland Security stands in front of the President’s desk in the Oval Office, “Mr. President we were unable get in the Pentagon and bring the senior commanders to meet with you.”
“What do you mean you couldn’t get in the Pentagon? Did you get lost? It’s that big ugly five-sided building just across the river. Do you want me to send my protective detail with you so they can show you where it is?”
“Mr. President, we found the Pentagon, when we arrived we were stopped at the gate, we were stopped because we didn’t have a valid DoD decal in addition we had our weapons. It seems we, the DHS, pushed for a new regulation that forbid bringing outside weapons onto military bases. We were asked to leave our weapons with the Guard; since we refused to leave our weapons with the Guard we weren’t allowed into the facility. We’re working with the AG (Attorney General) to issue us a special permit to bring our weapons onto their facility.”
The President gets very angry, “You wrote a regulation without a backdoor for your own department use and got caught up in it?”
“How the hell can I yell at the military for following your regulation? You’re an idiot; you didn’t need weapons; I sent you there to bring the assholes here for a meeting, not kill them. Get back there and bring them here.”
“Yes sir.”
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The 11:00 PM sound bites on the national news programs are;
“The President cuts taxes!”
“The President announces a new plan to boost the economy.”
“The President announces income equality and a tax cut all at the same time, no one else could have pulled this off.”
“The President offers tax-free cash payments to gun owners.”
“The President’s plan will enable night shift workers much safer commutes by taking many people off the roads.”
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The press swarmed to central Illinois to cover the first “official” gun buyback; a 68-year-old white male brought his 12 gauge shotgun, his.22 caliber Ruger 10/22 rifle and two bags filled with bullets to his local police station to sell back. He held his two long guns up over his head as he approached the police station on Main Street in Bloomington, Illinois. He smiled saying, I’m going to get a handful of cash. He entered the police station carrying the two guns, twenty minutes later he exited showing the crisp eight new $100 bills. When he turned to the left and moved out of the lights of the station six African American teenagers’ jump him, they shoved a revolver into his face demanding his money. He had no choice but to hand the $800.00 over; the youths grabbed the money; gun slapped him in the face and took off into the dark. The press recorded the entire event; none lifted a hand to help the poor man. None ran inside to get him help from the police; it was more important to record the event, true to the media’s progressive leanings, only the story showing the buy back was shown on the news programs. The mugging was edited out of the media’s reports.
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At 2: 30AM Ron knocks on my front door, I’m dressed in old jeans and a leather jacket, he’s in his best torn and painted on jeans, I’m proud of him for leaving his uniform home. I look into his eyes, “Ron; we’ve been friends for over thirty years, please tell me this isn’t a sting operation.”
“Brad, I promise you, it’s not. I want to learn about these people, I think we’re facing a bad situation; I have a lot of specialized knowledge, I want to help where I can.”
“If you want to be all you can be, why didn’t you join the Army?”
“Brad cut the bullshit, when are we leaving?”
“Right now, and look Ron, please forget you were ever a sheriff, some of these guys may, well, just forget your past and don’t stare at any of them.”
We pull into Jakes’ parking lot at 2:50AM, I knock three times on his back door, then two more times; the door opens a crack, they see me, opening the door to allow me to enter. As I cross the threshold of the home that serves as Jakes gun store, they see Ron behind me. A strong hand pushes against my chest.
“Who the fuck is that with you?”
“Close friend. Known him more than thirty years.”
“What’s he do?”
“Currently unemployed has some unique knowledge that could help us. I vouch for him.”
“OK, hey you FNG (Fucking New Guy) we don’t use names, we don’t want to know yours, you don’t want to know ours, got it?”
Ron looked surprised, responding, “Yes, no names if you want to address me, I guess FNG will do.”
“Good, he’s got a sense of humor, I like that.”
“You’re the last to arrive, grab a seat and a cup of shine, we got some hot information from one of our friends. He told us that the military hasn’t decided yet if they’re going to support the President on his illegal gun grab. Most of their bases are in lock down. No one in and no one leaves. They are patrolling their fence lines with M4s and live ammo. We’ve had reports of C17s flying in and out of military bases around the clock. One of my brother’s buds told him that two carrier battle groups are heading home, one turned around before they reached their deployment location.”
Ron looks surprised and asks, “May I ask how you got this information?”
“Yeah, you can ask, but I ain’t saying, why do you want to know? Trust me, there is something brewing in the military.”
Ron says, “I know firsthand that some in the military are supporting the President’s gun grab, I heard there’s an Army major in the Leesburg sheriff’s office. I heard he’s the one calling the shots.”
“How do you know this?”
“I ain’t saying.” Smiling Ron takes a gulp of his shine and almost chokes, he’s coughing, his eyes tear, we all laugh at his little problem, I say, “Pretty smooth isn’t it? Smoother than paint thinner, I guess this batch is about 150 proof.”
“Next time warn the new guy.” We all laugh so hard tears form in our eyes.
One of the guys in the store who’ve seen here a couple of times asks, “What are we going to do?”
Jake says, “I got me an entire shop and warehouse full of guns, I ain’t selling them to the government at a loss I could sell them some of my ammo, at $1/round I figure I can make enough to retire.”
Ron asks, “Is the government buying back weapons in stores or just in private hands?”
Jake frowns saying, “The asshole didn’t say, and I could always fill out the forms to say their all mine if I had to. As to the ammo, I’ve got more than enough stashed away.”
I laugh and respond, “You’re not going to retire until they lay you in a pine box. You’re not going to sell the government any ammo either; my gut says we’re all going to need all we can get.”
“Yeah, yeah, go ahead and take my millions away from me, make me work until I’m an old man.”
“Hey asshole, you are an old man.”
After the laughing dies off, we discuss what we can do to hide our weapons. Jake suggests we give them to him; he’ll bury them on his farm. Jake says, “I’m going to start transporting most of my store’s inventory to the farm at dawn.
Ron says, “Buddy, make sure you bury them deep, I hear they are bringing in mine detection and metal locators, they’ll also have ground penetrating radar they can use to search for buried weapons.”
“I f
igured that, I have a little surprise for them; I’m not saying shit right now, don’t know you well enough yet. Bring me anything you want hidden in two days. Take them apart and carry them in a briefcase or small backpack. I’ll tag them; record the serial number and hide them, when the time comes you’ll get back your weapons and ammo. I hope we need them sooner than later, I know a few people in DC I’d like to show how an AR 15 really works, we can play catch, I’ll fire a bullet, and they can catch it.”
I ask, “Do you think it’s going to come to us fighting the feds?”
Ron answers, “If things continue to go downhill as they are now, I’m afraid we might be hiding in the woods waiting for the red coats to come marching to us.”
Jake laughs, “They wear camo now, I wish they wore red coats, makes them easier to see.”
Ron looks around at the group, he looks into the eyes of each person in the small room before saying, “There’s an old Chinese saying, be careful what you ask for, you might get it. If it comes to a fight, we’ll be fighting the United States Army, the same Army that beat Iraq in a few weeks, they beat the Nazi’s in World War 2. We’ll also be fighting the local, county and state police, the Marines, Air Force, National Guard and their reserves. In the revolutionary war, 3% of the people rose up to overthrow the British. How many will do the same today? How many are going to be willing to leave their families, their jobs, their BMWs, their vacations and clean bathrooms to fight our military? How many are going to be willing to be declared an outlaw and have the government take everything they own? It’s one thing to play in the woods or play paintball and another to fight in a real war. A war with an enemy that knows us, one that has superior firepower and armor.”
Ron’s remarks break up the meeting.
Driving home Ron is silent for a long time before he asks me, “Do you trust them?”
“Yes, I’ve done a lot of business with Jake for a long time. He’s got the gun store and also a large farm outside of town. We use it as a range; he could most likely hide an aircraft carrier there, and no one could find it.”
“Thanks, are you going to give him your guns?”
“Unless I can think of a better hiding place. I’m not turning them in or selling them, whatever they call it. What about you?”
“I’m about to show you how changed I am, yes, I’m thinking of giving him my personal weapons too.”
“Don’t the other deputies know what you own?”
“Sure, same as we know what you own, you remember those little forms you filled out when you bought your guns.”
“That is if I bought them at the store and not from a friend.”
“Yeah, that’s legal here or was until the President’s new order. Maybe I sold them to a friend in another state, or on another planet. There’s no way I’m going to let them have my weapons. I know they’ll start with the homes of us who walked out of the office and resigned. They’ll want to make an example out of us.”
We ride along staying just under the speed limit; I try to keep my eyes on the road and also on the rearview mirror.
“Ron, we got problems; a sheriff’s car just pulled in behind us, I think they’re going to pull us over, yup, his bubble gum lights just turned on, I hope he’s one of your friends.”
“Brad, I don’t have any friends left in the force.”
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The Republican Senators reach their new home two miles outside Manassas, Virginia. The bus stops in front of one story office building; the bus door opens, the driver says, “All out, we’re here, welcome to your new safe home for a while.”
The Senators stumbled out of the bus standing in front of them is a line of black-uniformed DHS agents, the agents line the Senators up. The DHS Captain steps on a small podium looking at the group in front of them, “Ladies and Gentlemen I’m Department of Homeland Security Captain Wagner. I’ll be your host while we try to arrest those who’ve threatened to kill you because you refused to support the President’s programs. We’re going to do everything we can to make you both secure and happy. If you need anything just ask.”
The senior Senator from Arizona steps forward saying, “I spent five years in a North Vietnam prison camp, there’s no way I’m staying here. You’re full of crap. You’re not offering us protection; you’re holding us against our will. I demand a telephone, my lawyer and transportation out of here.”
Captain Wagner steps down off the podium; he stands in front of the Senator, “Senator, I’m going to tell you what you can have, one, your barracks are to the left, two, no telephones are allowed in this facility, and you can meet with your lawyer as soon as they arrive. Is that agreeable with you?”
“Captain, how will my lawyer know I’m here if I can’t call them?”
“Well, that is a problem isn’t it? I’m sure that someone as bright as you, who tried to win the Presidency, instead of our current President, who is really bringing change to this country will find a way to contact your lawyer. You’re not half the man our President is. Now do as I say, or we’ll drop you off in the middle of one of our burning inner cities which you people lit. I’ve had to move here to protect people whom I despise. You all think your crap don’t stink, well your seniority means crap here. I do have some good news for you; the President is going to visit here in two days to address your concerns. Now please go to one of the barracks where you’ll find a room with your name on it. Get settled in, dinner is at 7:00PM.”
Senator Rand steps forward saying, “Captain, do you realize that holding us against our will is kidnapping, which is a federal offense? You’ll end up going to a federal penitentiary.”
“We’re operating under orders from the National Command Authority, Senator, under the President’s executive order declaring Martial Law we have the right to hold you here for your security for thirty days. This isn’t kidnapping; the rules have changed. I could shoot you right now if I wanted to, and nothing will happen to me except maybe I’ll get an award for killing an enemy of the people. Now go to your rooms.”
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The web is alive with hundreds of stories and rumors concerning the current events in the country. Some of the rumors floating around the web are, the FBI is going house to house to arrest the mega-rich, thousands have fled the country trying to reach Canada and Mexico who have sealed their borders with America. All international flights have been stopped. Bank accounts have been seized. No one knows what’s real and what’s not. The rumors add to the sense of fear in the country.
On the first day after the President’s national curfew address, 5% of the working population stay home in fear of what they’ll find outside their homes. Many small businesses never open. At 9AM, tens of thousands of people have lined up in front of most banks waiting for them to open. All want to withdraw all of their funds before the government can take them. At 9:01AM, the banks receive an urgent fax from the FDC ordering them to limit withdrawals to $200 per person per day. Word spreads through the line at the Bank of America branch in Ashburn, Virginia; many scream in protest, some push their way into the bank demanding their money. A couple makes the mistake of pushing and manhandling the bank’s security guard, one of the pushed guards draws his sidearm shooting one of the customers. Panic spreads through the people in the bank; those still in line outside hear the gunshots and rush the guard, beating him to death. Others jump over the bank counter and grab money from the tellers, three of them learn too late that the cash drawers have dye packs in them. The dye packs explode covering the faces of the would-be thieves in green dye. Minute’s later four police cars arrive to stop the riot, they arrest the green-faced customers for bank robbery. The police close the bank for the safety of those in line. Those still in line scream at the police, some pickup rocks throwing them at the police. A riot breaks out between the customers and the police, as one officer goes down; he pulls his sidearm and fires into the crowd wounding four.
Freedom vs.Tyranny Page 5