The Loyal Nine

by Steven Konkoly

  Political pressures in the United States had converted our soldiers to a neutered police force. The rules of engagement should have been renamed rules of disengagement. Yet Sabs and her platoon followed their orders and performed admirably. Sabs described Iraq and Fallujah in particular as a world where unidentified enemies lurked around every corner. It was impossible to determine a friendly from a hostile. After coalition forces advanced into Fallujah in ‘04, insurgents were either extinguished, fled or went into hiding in plain sight. It was important for the coalition forces to receive the assistance of the Iraqi people in flushing out hostiles. One of the methods employed was for the soldiers to endear themselves to the children by handing out candy, personal hygiene items and toys during their patrols. More and more, the children of Fallujah would walk away with smiles and pockets full of goodies, and their parents became more open to the United States-backed security forces. As the Sunni people turned against al-Qaeda, the insurgents became few and far between. Eventually, a more relaxed atmosphere prevailed in Fallujah. This proved to have deadly consequences.

  Sabs was on a routine patrol with her platoon through an open-air market near sundown. A young girl and boy were standing near a fruit and vegetable stand. Sabs approached them and reached into her pockets, providing the two adorable kids some Tootsie Pops. All of the kids preferred the chocolate-flavored ones.

  Sabs noticed a man park a car next to the produce stands and quickly walk across the street, looking nervously behind him. When he reached the other side, he ducked down behind a car and Sabs instantly knew the car was rigged with explosives. She shouted BOMB and hugged both children, falling to the dusty road on top of them.

  The explosion ripped through the market, killing a dozen people and wounding another twenty-three—including Sabs. Half of the market was destroyed, and Anbar province was shaken to its core by the senseless act of violence.

  Two days later, Sabs awoke in the level one trauma center at Joint Base Balad to the face of Dr. J.J. Warren, who had just amputated her left leg and left arm. J.J. leaned down to hear Sabs whisper the kids. J.J. was pleased to report her heroics saved the children’s lives.

  Susan gave each of her daughters a proper tuck in their respective beds. They no longer shared the same room, but leaning against the banister, she could see them both through their doorways. We live in perilous times. How can I protect our children from the evil that exists? Can’t I lock them in a room or wrap them in a bubble for the rest of their lives?

  Susan prayed for her safety and thanked God for brave soldiers like Sabina del Toro.

  Chapter 33

  February 13, 2016

  Undisclosed Location, Commerce Street

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  The banner hanging over the empty conference room read Changing Fifty Thousand Lives. Alberto DePetri remembered the early days of labor organization in Las Vegas—riddled with stories of organized crime. He studied the banner and contemplated its meaning. DePetri did not believe all of the sensationalist stories of the union’s rise to power here. He only cared about the results. If a union’s activities resulted in higher pay for its members, so be it.

  DePetri had just issued orders to members of the Culinary Union 226 and volunteers from the Progressive Leadership Alliance. DePetri was a longtime official from the Teamsters Union in Chicago. He understood brass-knuckles politics. He had participated many times in “persuasive techniques” to convince a politician to see things the Teamsters’ way. He was also an expert in work slowdowns and stoppages.

  DePetri received the call early that morning to fly to Las Vegas the same afternoon. He was instructed to take a jet chartered by their friends at the UAW, where he would be provided a package of materials explaining the nature of his trip. His job was simple—to coordinate chaos when the city lost power. In his forty-three years as a loyal member of the Teamsters, he had undertaken many tasks to advance the cause of their members. He rarely questioned his directives. This job was different. Exactly how did they plan to turn off the lights?

  A little over an hour ago, DePetri sent teams of trusted members of the CU 226 and handpicked partners from the other area community organizations throughout the city to high-profile hotels and casinos. Earlier in the day, with the assistance of CU 226 officials, all of the union reps in each of the major hotels were contacted and told to report to their on-site offices. They were told to watch for a signal—signs of trouble—and observe the activity within their location. If they determined that the business was maintaining an “unsafe work environment,” the union reps were instructed to notify all members on site to leave the premises immediately. Also, in the name of safety, the union members should encourage their fellow employees to immediately do the same. If any member of management attempted to intervene or protest, the union rep was to provide the business card of CU 226 president Ted Pappageorge.

  DePetri was tasked with this assignment because of his exceptional organizational skills, background in disruptive labor practices, and utter disregard for the consequences of his actions. With just twenty-four hours’ notice, DePetri orchestrated the largest work stoppage in the history of American labor.

  Chapter 34

  February 13, 2016

  Brae Burn Country Club

  West Newton, Massachusetts

  “I was volunteering during a military job fair last month at Gillette Stadium, sponsored by the Wounded Warrior Project. The folks at MassVetsAdvisor wanted someone to advise our vets about medical benefits and services available to them outside the VA system,” said J.J. “They have an excellent newsletter—At Ease!—which provides the latest information for vets who may need additional medical and mental services.”

  Susan returned from tucking the girls into bed and joined the conversation. She gave Donald’s shoulders a squeeze. He reached up to her hand and they held each other for a moment. J.J. noticed the brief show of affection between the two and realized his life was empty without a Susan.

  J.J. was nearing fifty years old and found himself contemplating life and his future. The anger over the atrocities of war and the lack of respect for the soldiers who did their duty had subsided. The Quinns helped him find his way through their mutual dedication to preparedness planning and subsequent introduction to this new family. The Wounded Warrior Project provided him an outlet to help his fellow soldiers cope with a difficult return home. Now, Sabs had come into his life and he was beginning to feel again. He continued.

  “As Donald and Susan know, I have been pretty disheartened with the way our vets are treated both within the system and without,” said J.J. “I first became involved on a local level with the MassVets because I liked a one-stop-shopping outlet for soldiers who needed counseling and sought direction for resources to fill their needs.

  “We all have a bumper sticker. You know, my kid is smarter than your kid in math.” This drew laughs from the two parents in the room. J.J. teased Susan about this because she drove a car with the peel-off stick figures in the back window and a similar bumper sticker about honor students.

  “There’s nothing wrong with that; it’s human nature. My bumper sticker is helping my fellow vets,” said J.J.

  Sabs smiled at him, and then turned her attention to the Quinns. “I hadn’t seen J.J. since the brief moment I opened my eyes at JBB. But I could never forget his face and his comforting words,” said Sabs. “I have worked with Wounded Warriors for years because of my situation. MassVets contacted me a year or so ago about counseling wounded vets in the Boston area. I was glad to help.” She turned towards J.J. “We have become friends—close friends—since the Gillette event.”

  J.J. blushed slightly, recognizing that Sabs felt an emotional tie to him as well. They were having a moment. Being around a loving family like the Quinns could produce those same emotions in others around them. J.J. felt it, and apparently Sabs did as well.

  “Are you guys dating?” asked Susan.

  J.J. squirmed and Sabs began to laugh
.

  “Susan, men can’t handle questions like that,” said Sabs. “Just look at him. Maybe I’ll give him a great big kiss right now!”

  Donald and Susan were laughing at him now. This was not supposed to be a coming-out party. Donald intervened on J.J.’s behalf.

  “Listen up, ladies, this is not The Dating Game,” came the buzzkill from Donald with the added effect of rescuing J.J. Turning to Sabs, Donald said, “J.J. tells me that you two have discussed his preparedness plans. He probably also told you we get together every month or so to get up to date.”

  “He did, Donald, and I appreciate the fact that you guys trust me, or him, enough to let me participate in all of this,” said Sabs. “I have obvious limitations. My prosthetic left leg is limiting in terms of running, but it carries my weight easily. My left arm was removed just above the elbow. It is mobile, to an extent, but it certainly does not make me the bionic woman.”

  J.J. admired how Sabs could discuss her limitations so frankly.

  “I do have serious concerns about our country and the state of society in general,” said Sabs. “I would be remiss if I didn’t consider my shortcomings in the event of some type of collapse. Being prepared for what life might throw your way is one thing. Living in a post-collapse world with only one arm and leg raises a whole new set of concerns.”

  J.J. understood her concerns, especially from a medical perspective. A post-collapse America would be extremely difficult for the elderly, children, and people with special needs—both physical and mental. There is no such thing as a one-size-fits-all preparedness plan.

  “But I will say this,” added Sabs. “I will always be a Marine. When it comes to defending America and her principles, I’ll fight side by side with you, albeit with one arm and one leg.”

  That’s the spirit. I really like this lady.

  “Well said, Sabs,” said Donald. “Being part of a preparedness group involves more than physical capability. Some might disagree with me, but prepping is ninety percent planning—which includes mental preparation. You can’t survive on being able to run a marathon alone. It takes a comprehensive set of protocols framed in an organized fashion that makes sense for you.”

  It was words like these from Donald after that summer evening in 2012 that convinced J.J. to become prepared. He was honored to become a part of the Quinns’ group, and as he became more involved, he marveled at the importance of their purpose.

  “Honey, where’s the remote?” asked Susan. “I think we need to turn this up.”

  Everyone’s attention was drawn to the FoxNews channel on the television. Arthel Neville filled the screen. Next to the FoxNews logo, the words LAS VEGAS IN THE DARK were prominent.

  “As we have been reporting in the last several moments—and the information is still coming in to us, as this is a fluid situation—it appears that the entire metro Las Vegas area is without power at this time. Fox News correspondent Dan Springer is in Seattle and is bringing us the latest—Dan,” said Neville. The screen switched to Springer standing in front of a background of the Seattle skyline, including the Space Needle.

  “Thank you, Arthel. As you mentioned moments ago, information on this event is increasingly difficult to obtain. Here is what we know so far,” said Springer. “Around eight p.m. local time in Las Vegas, the entire valley comprising the city of Las Vegas began to go dark. I spoke with a friend by cell phone before he lost his signal. My friend lives in a high-rise condominium project overlooking the infamous Las Vegas Strip, also known as Las Vegas Boulevard. The outage apparently happened suddenly, in less than a minute. At first, the lights dimmed and then they brightened. My friend described a wave of darkness sweeping across the valley from the north to the south towards Henderson. After the call dropped, I attempted to call my friend back, but I received an ‘all circuits are busy’ message.”

  The Quinns and their guests continued to watch the events as they unfolded for the next several hours. Despite the late hour, J.J. and Sabs stayed there and took in the reports. Susan provided ample coffee for the weary guests. By three a.m., midnight in Las Vegas, J.J. and Sabs agreed to bunk in a guest room. Reports were coming in to the twenty-four-hour news channels about out-of-control fires and gunshots being heard throughout the city.

  “This is one heck of a train wreck,” said Donald. “While I feel bad for anyone who is in the middle of this, I can’t seem to take my eyes off the screen. I can only imagine what we’ll learn when the lights come back on. The cell phone calls getting through to the news stations are eerie enough.”

  “I’m amazed at how quickly everything went to shit,” said Sabs. “The power has been off for maybe four hours or so. There are now reports of buildings burning and shots fired. How could this situation deteriorate so quickly?”

  “I’ve always read in preparedness manuals the time frame for societal breakdown is at least seventy-two hours,” said J.J. “What could trigger this type of reaction?”

  “Opportunists,” replied Susan. “In a collapse, the bad people survive and take advantage of the chaos.”

  “This is why we take personal readiness seriously,” said Donald.

  Chapter 35

  February 13, 2016

  Caesars Palace Hotel

  Las Vegas, Nevada

  “Are we going out after dinner?” asked Sarge. Sarge was beat and would have settled for room service.

  “I don’t think so,” said Julia. “Let’s get plenty of rest. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day and a full day of shopping at the Forum Shops.”

  Julia paused, trying to gauge his reaction, but he just smiled. This is what married life would be like. He watched her “touch-up” through the wide door separating the opulent marble bathroom from the spacious high-rollers’ suite. She was stunningly beautiful and exceptionally smart. Sexy, with a wicked sense of humor. They were meant for each other—compatible in so many ways. Extending his business trip to include a getaway for the two of them had been a stroke of genius.

  Sarge had insisted she come along to cover his keynote address and join him for a two-day stopover in Las Vegas—including Valentine’s Day. He knew it was the right call when Julia immediately cleared her schedule, accepting his offer. Sarge had spent the better part of February travelling to promote his new book, which kept the two of them apart far more than either of them liked. The trip gave them a chance to reconnect, in more ways than one, before his next long series of appearances. In fact, he was beginning to wonder if they’d ever leave the hotel room. He could get used to this on a more permanent basis.

  Sarge’s mind wandered to the Little White Chapel on the Strip. Wouldn’t that be something? Hey, we got hitched on Valentine’s Day in Vegas! Over eighty thousand people got married in Clark County every year—five percent of the weddings nationwide. Valentine’s Day was the busiest day of the year in the “hitched” business. Am I ready to pop the question? Would Julia say yes?

  Julia caught him staring off in deep thought.

  “Hey, buddy, how’re you doin’ over there?” asked Julia. “If you’re tired, we can just order in.”

  Sarge considered this tempting offer but decided against it. She’d dropped everything to travel out west with him, and he wasn’t going to deny her a night on the town. Besides, she was incredibly gorgeous tonight, as always.

  “No way, Bobby Flay awaits,” said Sarge. “This city is wide open for business twenty-four seven. It never sleeps, nor shall I, my goddess.”

  Julia looked at him through the mirror as she put the final touches on her lipstick. She was studying him.

  Maybe she is a mind reader. Women are scary creatures.

  Sarge looked out the window of the twenty-eighth floor of the Palace Tower and wondered at the magnificence of Las Vegas. Whether you called it Sin City or the City of Lights, it was truly a wonder to behold. Sarge recalled an image taken by the International Space Station, which revealed Las Vegas as the brightest city in the world as seen from space. The accompanying article con
cluded if all the lights along the Las Vegas Strip were lined up, it would create a train of lights over fifteen thousand miles long. Sarge further recalled that the lights had dimmed to honor Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin, performers comprising the infamous “Rat Pack” with Sammy Davis Jr. They were also dimmed in memory of the 9/11 terrorist attack. Las Vegas was incomparable. Julia joined his side.

  “What an unbelievable view,” said Julia. “Could you live here?”

  Sarge thought about it for a brief moment.

  “Believe it or not, I would consider it because of the weather,” said Sarge. “Boston winters are getting old.”

  Sarge stared down at the magnificent Fountains of the Bellagio Hotel. The show was in progress and the lights flashed as seventeen thousand gallons of water shot into the air to a brilliantly choreographed light display. He’d heard the water of the Bellagio’s manmade lake could fill two thousand swimming pools. This brought back the visual of Lake Mead and Hoover Dam.

  “You know what concerns me, though?” asked Sarge.

  “What?”

  “When we flew in this afternoon, did you notice the levels of Lake Mead upriver from the Hoover Dam?” asked Sarge.

  “Yeah, you could see how the banks of the river were a sandy brown color compared to the rest of the red clay walls of the canyon,” said Julia. “What are you thinking?”

  “I think they’re running out of water,” he said bluntly. “I guess time will tell.”

  Ten minutes later, they were waiting for the elevator. It was almost 8:00 p.m.