THE AMERICAN TERRORIST – Book Two
By
Ron L. Carter
Copyright 2015 by Ron L. Carter
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Disclaimer
This book does have references to some true events, however it has been fictionalized and all persons appearing in this book are fiction. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
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Table of contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Other
Sources
Special thanks
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Chapter One
Lying dazed and confused, Douglas Cotton, "The American Terrorist," woke to what he thought was Michael’s voice whispering to him, as he said, “Hey Grandpa, wake up. You’ve got to get out of here.” When Doug first heard the voice he was caught somewhere between reality and a dream. For a few minutes he believed he was drifting along on the lake while fishing with Michael. His mind had gone back to a memory of a happier time, before Michael was killed in Afghanistan by the terrorist I.ED. (impoverished explosive devise).
He thought it was one of those warm, sunny, and lazy days when they used to take the boat out on the lake to troll for Trout. It was peaceful, as the boat made its way along the cold sparkling water. In his mind, he could hear the soft putter sound of the trolling motor as the boat moved along close to the shore. He also believed he heard a lone eagle scream off in the distance, as it hunted for its prey. Everything seemed so vivid and real to him, as if he were watching a movie. The mountains were so close, he felt like he could just reach out and touch them. He was convinced the warm air and gentle breeze coming off the cold water had caused him to doze off while they were fishing.
Lying there, his senses started coming back to him and he was trying desperately to cling to that blissful memory he was having with Michael. It was such a feeling of comfort and serenity that he didn't want to let go of it. During that brief moment, nothing else in the world mattered to him, accept what was going on in his mind.
He was trying to savor every flashback of the experience, until he thought he heard Michaels voice once again. The voice had become more faint this time, as if it was off in the distance when Doug heard, “Hey Grandpa, wake up. You’ve got to get out of here.” He was in such a peaceful place that he didn’t want to wake up and he was fighting the idea of ever opening his eyes again. But, hearing Michael's voice had temporarily convinced him that he had succeeded in killing himself, just like he planned. Just for that second he believed that his spirit was somewhere in Haven and that he had been reunited with Michael.
Doug's eyes were still closed as he whispered, “Hey Michael, is that really you?” Even though he didn't get a response, he continued, “I've missed you so much. It’s so good to hear your voice again.” Still not getting a response from Michael is when the reality of what was really going on, made him start opening his eyes. He then realized that he wasn't dead at all and he began to wipe particles of dirt and debris from his eyes. He slowly raised up on his elbows from the waist up, and started looking around to see what was going on.
Doug then started to become more aware of his surrounding and what had really happened. He looked around at the destruction that surrounded him and knew he had succeeded in blowing up the house but somehow he had survived the explosions. The attack on the house was supposed to be his last mission to kill the radical terrorists before they fulfilled their plan to kill hundreds of people at Disneyworld. He was also supposed to kill himself in the process and it made him angry that he had survived his own suicide attempt. When he realized he was still alive he was bitterly disappointed as he yelled out in anger, “This isn't Heaven. It looks more like hell to me, you stupid fool. You didn't kill yourself after all." He was so angry that he yelled out even louder, “Damn it Doug, You can kill all those terrorists, but you can’t even kill yourself, and do it right.” Then he looked around and saw that he was the only person moving and figured he better calm down or someone might spot him. The more he looked around, the more he realized the cold hard truth as he whispered, "I guess it just wasn't my time to die.”
Moments earlier, he had driven his motor home, loaded with explosives, into the large terrorist mansion in Florida trying to kill himself and all the terrorists. The last thing he remembered before he woke up, was pushing the button on the donator to activate the bombs inside the motor home. He now wondered how he had gotten outside the motor home and was lying on top of a large bush. He didn't know it at the time, but the initial explosion had blown him out of the driver side door and into what was left of the flower bed next to the house. The blast had thrown him fifteen feet away and he was lying on his back. Even though he had a few cuts and bruises on his face, hands and back, the large shrub had cushioned his landing, much like if he would've landed on top of a soft mattress. Once he regained his senses he knew he couldn’t have heard Michael’s voice, because he couldn’t hear anything at all. The explosions had temporarily deafened him and his head was pounding from what he thought was a massive concussion.
Once he could breathe and see normal again, he strained his eyes in different directions to see what was left of everything he intended to destroy. The dust and debris from parts of the house were still settling to the ground all around him. He had blood that was starting to run down his face from a superficial cut to his forehead. He quickly began to feel around on his body to see if he still had all of his body parts and soon found that everything was still intact. He quickly ran his hands across his legs and the rest of his body to see if he had any broken bones. After inspecting them, he realized nothing was broken. He couldn’t believe he'd somehow come through the explosions, virtually untouched, except for a few surface scratches and bruises. He thought he had done a good job in planning his last mission of destroying the radical terrorists and himself. He did blow up everything he had intended to destroy, everything but himself.
After what seemed like several minutes, he crawled off the large bush and laid down behind it on the ground. He was now lying between the bush and a piece of stucco structure that was once attached to the house. He was suffering from a little shock as he sat up in a fetal position. He pulled his knees to his chest, and wrapped his arms around his legs. For that short moment, he felt exactly like he did when he was back in Vietnam and was hiding from the three Vietcong that were on his trail. He sat there for the longest time, just trying to collect his thoughts and figure out what he was going to do next.
He tried to wrap his mind around hearing, what he thought was Michael’s voice, warning him that he had to get out of there. He wasn’t sure how or why he heard the voice, but knew it must have been some type of warning for him to wake up and leave as soon as he could. Now his survival instincts were starting to kick in and he realized he had to listen to what that voice had told him. He had to figure out how to get out of the property, without getting caught by one of the law enforcement agencies. He knew he didn’t want to just sit there and get captured by one of them. He believed his fate would be far worse with them than what he just tried to do to
himself. The property was surrounded by an eight foot high block wall fence and the only escape route was through the front gate that he had blown up on his way into the property.
Still feeling a little unsteady, he knew he needed a little more time to try and get all the cobwebs out of his head. He was also hoping to regain his hearing before he did anything too soon. He sat in that position for quite a while, until the ringing in his ears started to subside a little. After a while he could tell his hearing was slowly coming back because he could hear several sirens as fire trucks and ambulances from far off in the distance were making their way to his location. He knew that once they arrived on the property they wouldn't be able to get very close to the demolished house because of a few secondary explosions and the hundreds of rounds of ammunition that were still going off in every direction. He believed that would give him a little time to figure out his escape plan.
He stayed hidden until the rounds started dying down and the emergency vehicles were starting to edge their way a little closer. As he watched their movement, he began contemplating what he was going to do as he formulated a plan in his mind. He thought the best thing for him to do would be to get out of there as quickly as possible, and go back to the R.V. campground. He'd left his car in the visitor parking area and he kept a hide-a-key inside a small metal magnetic box, that was attached underneath the frame of the car. He knew that if he could make it back to the car he could use the spare key and make his get-away. He had also left a wig, beard, cash and a few other items in the car just in case his plan to blow up the terrorist house had had not succeeded. Now he believed these things would help him get out of town without getting caught by the law enforcement people.
He knew he had to somehow try and blend in with the firefighters and the paramedics, before he could attempt to leave the property. After waiting for a few hours, the firefighters and paramedics decided they would give it a try and see if they could get in close and see if there were any survivors. By the time they got close enough, it was dark and the secondary explosions had stopped, and the rounds of bullets had quit going off. As they got out of their vehicles Doug ducked down and watched as two firemen and two paramedics bravely got out of their vehicles and headed toward the mangled house. Fire and smoke was still coming from what was left of the house as they made their way very slowly and carefully to the opposite side of where he was hiding. Doug quickly took that opportunity to get up and move in a crouched position to where one of the ambulance vehicles was parked. He looked around to make sure no one was watching him as he opened the back door to the vehicle and went inside. He was soon able to find a white paramedic shirt about his size so he rapidly tore off his bloody shirt and stuffed it in a drawer. He then put the white shirt on so he would look like one of the paramedics. He found some saline solution and band-aids in a cabinet and cleaned himself up before putting a band-aid over his cut. Now all he had to do was convince the emergency people that he was a doctor and he was there to help, in case there were any wounded survivors.
Just as he was getting out of the vehicle, two paramedics approached him and one of them said, "Hey what the hell are you doing in our truck? You're not supposed to be in there! Doug quickly replied, “I’m an emergency doctor at the local hospital. The police, at the gate, let me in to see if I could give you guys a hand. I figured I could help you out, if there were any survivors. I cut my head on some of the loose debris while I was looking around, so I just came in to clean myself up before I joined up with you."
He very cleverly changed the subject as he said, "Did you see any survivors out there yet?” The paramedic reluctantly spoke up again and said, “Yea, we found one out in the back so far, but he's in pretty bad shape. You can come with us, and check him out for yourself if you would like.” Doug didn’t have a bag of equipment with him but he followed them around to what was left of the back side of the house. There was a man lying on his back moaning and another EMT was bent over him, trying to administer some type of first aid to him. Doug immediately recognized the wounded man as one of the would-be terrorists he'd spent time with, while he was in the terrorist house. He had a few deep holes in his chest from pieces of metal or wood, and he was in a semi-conscious state. He was lying there squirming and moaning in pain as the paramedic tried to help him. One of the other paramedics that was with Doug told him that Doug was a doctor and to let him take a look at the guy. The paramedic looked up at him, smiled and quickly moved over and let Doug have a look for himself.
While Doug and the EMT were working on trying to give the injured man something for his pain, the other two paramedics continued on their search around the property for more survivors. Doug and the EMT had worked on the man for a few minutes when Doug asked the EMT if he had any more pain medication they could give the guy. He replied, “Yea, but it's back in the truck. I’ll have to go get it while you work on him." He got up and said, "I'll be right back," and immediately started jogging in the direction of the truck.
Doug watched until he was out of sight and then he looked around to make sure no one was watching him. He put one of his hands over the man’s mouth and held his nose with the other hand while he began to suffocate the injured man. He said in a quiet voice, "You're not leaving this property alive, you scumbag. I'll make sure of that." He kept looking over his shoulders for the EMT to return, as the injured man kicked around for a few minutes as he took his last breath.
When the EMT got back with the pain medicine Doug stood up, “Looks like we lost him. We were just a little too late, he didn’t make it. He must’ve had some pretty bad internal injuries, because there wasn’t anything we could do for him." The EMT bent down over the body and scratched his head, “Wow! He seemed like he was coming around to me! I thought he might make it!” Doug just shrugged his shoulders and shook his head back and forth, “Yeah, me too, he looked like he had a chance, but with internal injuries like his, you just can’t ever tell how bad they really are.” Doug had survived the explosions only a few hours earlier and had already killed another one of his terrorist victims.
Doug hung around with the EMT's for an hour or so and pretended to be helping out in looking for survivors. Secretly, he was just making sure there wasn’t any of them still left alive. When no one was paying any attention to him, he slowly snuck away. He made his way to the north side of the block wall fence of the property. He crept over to where there were a lot of plants along the fence, that gave him plenty of cover. He crouched his way along the fence line from plant to plant toward the front of the property. When he got closer to the entrance, he moved very slowly toward the destroyed area in the fence.
The police were everywhere by then and they had put the standard yellow tape lines across the front of the big gaping hole. They were trying to control and monitor the people coming in and going out the property. Doug hid in some large bushes and waited for the right opportunity to try and leave. By then there were a lot of curious people that had gathered on the other side of the street, just trying to get a glimpse of everything that was going on. He thought they were just nosy neighbors, but he was glad they were there as diversion for him. The police were trying their best to keep the crowd as far away as they possibly could because of the stray bullets that had been going off earlier. Everyone outside the property had their attention diverted to what was going on with the Firemen and the Paramedics. He slowly began to make his way to the north side of the blown up hole in the wall. He crept from one plant to another and then waited a few minutes to see if anyone had spotted him. He began to get a little nervous because now he was only a short distance away in his escape to freedom.
Doug waited patiently until the police were preoccupied with the crowd and another fire truck had started to come onto the property. When he thought the police were busy with it and the crowd, he took that opportunity to move out of his hiding place and walk directly off the property. He had already made it to
the sidewalk, when a policeman grabbed him by the arm and said in an angry voice, “Hey, where the heck do you think you’re going? I saw you come out of there. What were you doing on the property?” Doug had a lump in his throat, but was used to being under interrogation pressure from some of the Muslim places he'd been to while blowing up his targets. He had to think fast, “I’m a local doctor and I live right down the street. I heard the blasts and the commotion and figured I could help out. I was just trying to help the paramedics and the firefighters until one of the firemen came up to me and told me they didn't need my help anymore. He asked me to leave the property, so I left. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any harm. I was just trying to help out with the wounded survivors.”
The policeman had just started to ask Doug his name and where he lived when one of the other policeman called for him to come and help with the rowdy crowd. The crowd had become so large that they were starting to move closer to the gaping hole. The policeman quickly turned him loose and told him to go home. As he turned and started to walk away, he said, “Just go home Doc, you can read about it tomorrow in the newspapers.” Doug replied, “Thank you officer, I’ll do that. Good luck with everything.” As the officer left, he said, “Don't come back!” He then turned and started to jog back to help the other officer, as Doug yelled back to him, "Don't worry, I won't." As he turned and started to walk away he had to chuckle under his breath, as he whispered, "Don't worry, this is the last place I want to be right now. I'll never come back here again." He knew he was home free, because now he appeared to be just one of the inquisitive spectators that had seen what he wanted to see and was going back home.
Doug had to make it back to the R.V. Park so he could get inside his car and make his getaway. It was getting late and he was emotionally and physically exhausted from everything he’d been through that day. While he was walking back, he had some time to reflect on what happened, so he decided he would have a conversation with Michael, “Thank you for warning me to get out of there before it was too late. You know, I didn’t want to let any of those terrorists get out of there alive. That’s why I killed that wounded terrorist we were working on. I probably could’ve saved his life, but for what? So he could recover from his wounds and then go back and try to kill more Americans in some other terrorist plot? That's one of them that won't ever hurt any of our people, I promise you that.”
It took Doug a couple of hours by the time he got back to his car. Once there, he hid in some tall oleander plants not too far away from the car. He wanted to wait and see if there was anyone in the parking lot that may be watching what he was about to do. When he felt like it was all clear, he quickly ran over to his car, bent down, reached under the frame. It took a minute or two to locate the hide-a-key box, but he was finally able to retrieve it. When he raised back up there was a homeless guy standing right in front of him and only about a foot away from his face. At first it, startled Doug and he let out a little sound of fear. He instantly wondered, "Where the heck did he come from and how did he get here in front of me so fast?"
The guy looked to be in his fifties and his salty gray hair was shaggy and uncombed.
When he smiled, Doug could see that he was missing a few front teeth. His clothes were dirty and he smelled like he'd just crawled out of a sewer. He'd had his share of wine because his breath reeked with a wine odor and bad breath combination. He looked at Doug and said, "You lock yourself out of your car, mister?" Doug was standing there facing him when he thought, "Man, just go away. This is the last thing I need right now." He had to think about what he was going to say when he finally spoke up, "Yeah, I guess I did. I thought I had my keys in my pocket, but I didn't. I don't know what I did with them." The homeless guy didn't waste time on conversation as he quickly asked, "You got any extra change on you, Mister?" Doug was a little apprehensive to tell the guy he didn't have any money on him because he wasn't sure how he'd react. The last thing he wanted was a confrontation with him. "I don't have any money on me, but I have some under the back seat of my car. If you give me a second, I'll get it."
Doug quickly unlocked the doors to the car and opened up the back door. The homeless guy had to move out of his way, so he could get it open. He bent down inside the back and lifted the seat so he get his hands on some cash he had hidden. He grabbed a small bundle of the cash and had it in his hand and ready to tear out a few bills to give the guy. Just as he was turning to hand the guy a few dollars, the homeless guy hit him across the right shoulders with some kind of metal pipe. Lucky for Doug it didn't catch him across the head. He had tried to hit Doug in the head but, he was so drunk that he missed his target. At first, it stung like crazy and Doug went down to one knee. The homeless guy then reached for the money and said, "I'll take that entire wad of cash, if you don't mind, sir." When he reached to get it, Doug socked him between the legs with his fist. When the homeless guy bent over, he grabbed the weapon from his hands and began to beat him with it. He hit him several times across the head and face. The guy went down and Doug was so angry with him at that point that he just kept hitting him in the head until the guy completely stopped moving.
Doug waited a few minutes and then reached down to check to see if he had a pulse. Not getting any kind of response, he looked around to see if anyone had seen the encounter. He didn't see anybody else lurking around, so he drug the guys body a few feet to the back of his car. He then opened up the trunk and lifted up his lifeless body and put him inside. He quickly shut the lid of the trunk and looked around again to make sure that no one had seen what he'd done.
Feeling safe, he went back to the hidden compartment of the back seat and made sure everything was still there. Everything was still in a large plastic bag in the hidden compartment under the back seat. He was originally going to send the cash, in the FedEx box, to his brother Randy, but changed his mind at the last minute. He decided that sending that much cash through the mail was a bad idea and probably wasn’t going to get to Randy in the first place. The FBI would've probably intercepted it and kept it as evidence.
Now, the disguise and the money was going to be Doug's ticket to freedom. He quickly put on his wig and a beard as he took the bag full of money, and left. He left the car, with the dead man's body in it, and took off on foot. After he was away from the RV Park he said, "That damn homeless guy could've ruined my plans for my escape. I wonder where in the heck he came from. I never saw him until he was right in my face. I'm just lucky that I was able to overpower him and take his weapon away from him or it could've been me that was killed."
He didn't have to go very far when he was able to flag down a taxi. Wanting to be as far away as he could, he asked the driver to take him to the other side of town. Once there, he was able to get a room at one of the cheap hotels for the night. He was hoping he could calm himself down enough so he could get some rest and come up with a plan on where he was going to go.
After he was in the hotel room, Doug took off his disguise, went to the bathroom and took a long hot shower. Before he went to bed, he paced back and forth in the middle of the room, just thinking about where he was going to go. When he was finally able to get to bed, he tossed and turned most of the night. Thinking about his blotched suicide attempt he got very emotional. He had tears in his eyes as he talked to what he thought were the spirits of Michael, Shirley and Jenifer. He told them he was sorry he had failed in his suicide attempt and wasn’t there with them. He said, "Maybe the reason I'm still alive is that my mission here isn't over yet. Why else would I have survived those huge explosions? I’ve killed hundreds of terrorists during my attacks on their mosques, training camps and even killed a lot of them with my sniper rifle. Maybe my survival is their spirits getting even with me, their revenge. Maybe your voice was telling me that since I’d survived my own suicide attempt, I shouldn't give up on my mission of going after the terrorists. Whatever the reason, it doesn't really matter now. I
'm convinced, more than ever, that I have to continue my mission to hunt the terrorists down here in America, and kill them.”
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The American Terrorist: The Revenge Continues Page 1