by W. R. Benton
“I need to see your driver’s license, vehicle registration, and company ID.”
Handing them to the guard, he watched as the man carefully looked the papers over, entered his name and license plate number and then ran the name through their computer system. The search came back clean, so his papers were handed back.
“I know the heating and ac is on the southwest corner, but how will I get into the building?”
“I'll have a guard let you in, and he'll be with you at all times as you work. When you're done with your task, he'll let you out and then lock up again. Take it easy, and I hope you get to watch part of the game on TV later.”
“Thanks, Jones.” X1 replied with a big smile. He slipped the van into gear and moved to the southwest corner.
He finally spotted a guard standing by an open door, so he parked the van, pulled his tool bag and his cylinder. He nodded to the guard and said, “Ain't this one hell of a note? I have to check the air conditioning system with a game going on. We were notified the temperature inside isn't as cool as it should be.” He then thought, Once he's inside with me I'll kill him and keep his radio for a while. The guard was smoking, so X1 suspected the man would enter after he'd finished his smoke, but he'd be a smoker who'd never have to worry about lung cancer.
“I don't know nothin' 'bout no air conditioners, so ya do what needs doin'.”
“I will,” X1 said and then added, “and it won't take long either.”
He pulled out his tools, removed a panel, having no idea what he was looking at, and then waited for the guard to enter. Finally, pulling a step ladder, he moved up higher to look an air duct over.
Pulling a pair of tin snips, he cut a hole large enough to place his cylinder, but bent it upward. Now, he wasn't sure if the guard would come inside or not. He then returned to his tool box, pulled a roll of duct tape, and was just about to pick up the gas, when the guard neared.
X1 had his silenced .380 in the bottom of a large white bucket and when the guard was close enough, he pulled the pistol and sent three rounds through the man's chest. With a surprised look on his face as three long fingers of blood shot from his back, the guard fell to the concrete floor, unmoving. Placing the pistol back in his bucket, he pulled out a full face gas mask and thick gloves. Once wearing the mask and gloves, he moved to the cut in the vent. He opened the nozzle on the cylinder as far as it would go and then placed it in the vent. He then folded the metal down and sealed the cut metal with the duct tape.
He gathered up all his tools, took the dead man's radio and waved at Jones as he left the complex, heading north. Once outside of town, he removed the signs from the van, gathered his tools, the coveralls, and other gear in green plastic bags and dumped them over a wooden fence on a narrow country road.
Another Agent would pick them up in an hour, so he turned the guard's radio on. He could hear Jones trying to reach him and as he drove he realized by now the auditorium was probably filled with the poisonous gas.
Minutes later he heard, “Attention all stations. Attention all stations. We have an unknown number of fans experiencing confusion, convulsions, and going into comas right now. We even have, wait one.”
A minute passed before the radio became busy again, “Now about half of both pro teams are on the floor. Jones, alert the police and have ambulances sen—”
“Base, this is gate one. Base, this is gate one. This is gate one to all stations, get all the fans out of the building now! I repeat, empty the building and do the job now. Someone check on Base and see if he's still conscious.” Jones ordered.
He then switched channels, “Hospital this is gate 1 at the auditorium at the NBA playoffs. I need all available ambulances at my location. I have an unknown number of people with convulsions, and many in comas. I repeat, I need all available medical assistance at my location now!”
Once again he switched channels and said, “Desk, this is gate 1 and I need assistance at the auditorium. I have an unknown number of victims experiencing confusion, convulsions, and comas. I am lowering and locking all gate guards right now. Report to gate 1 for admission.”
Still wearing his gloves, when X1 went over a bridge a few minutes later, he tossed the radio out of his window and into the river below. He gave a loud insane laugh and when he got back to his office, he'd watch the television to see how much damage he'd done to the fans and players.
It was then he saw a red and yellow light flashing behind him and wondered how the cops could be on his tail that quickly. He pulled into the empty parking lot of an out of business grocery store and stopped.
He quickly pulled his driver license, his registration, and proof of insurance card. He then placed his hands on the steering wheel. X1 wasn't overly concerned because if this cop gave him any trouble, he'd simply kill him.
The officer walked to the now open driver’s window and asked, “Do you know why I stopped you?”
“No, sir, I wasn't speeding.”
“Your rear right tail light is out.”
“Oh, I had no idea.”
“Let me see your driver’s license, registration, and insurance card.”
When X1 handed the items to the cop, the man walked back to his patrol car to see if any warrants were open for this driver. X1 was relaxed because he was in the system and protected as well.
The officer walked back a few minutes later and said, “Uh, Mr. Walker, I have no idea who you work for, but I was just told not to detain you and to release you immediately.” He handed all the papers back to X1.
“I'm CIA, and working a case right now. Not a problem, officer. See, I have my badge right here.”
When the cop leaned forward to view the badge, X1 fired the .380 twice and bullets struck the man in the face. Shards of skull, brain tissue and blood blew out behind the man's head and he dropped instantly to the ground, dead before he'd even struck the pavement.
Starting the van, X1 gave a loud laugh and after he sobered, said, “The killing has started in earnest now, so let the fun begin.”
“Wilson residence. This is Frank.”
“It's me, honey. There was some sort of poison gas released at an NBA game tonight and most of the hospitals in town are full. Right now we have no idea if it was released on purpose or accidentally. We have many dead, but I have no idea how many. Frank, I had a little girl no more than ten die holding my hand as we prayed for her recovery. I'd just watched her mother and father die. What kind of monsters kill kids?” She broke down crying.
“What? My God, that's horrible! Baby, are you okay?”
“No, I'm not okay . . . and . . . and I may never be okay again. I want to stay and work a double shift, because every second counts with these folks.”
“No, it's okay, you stay there as long as you feel you're helping. Let me know when you're on your way home.”
“Bye, sweetheart, I have to get back. If I learn something important, I'll let you know. It's all over the television right now. Love you, and later.”
The phone screen went black, so Frank moved to the living room, turned on a news channel and called James.
“Hey, Frank, how are you?” James answered the phone.
“Better than some. Look, have you seen the news?”
“No, why? I was painting a doll house.”
“Turn it on now, and I think this is just the beginning. Looks like peace is dead in America. I was in the service twenty years as a Military Policeman, then twenty years with Houston Vice. Never in 40 years have I seen so much violence and death in one day.”
“I'm bringing Donna, and we need to talk.”
“Well, martial law is in effect, so if you don't make it quick, you'll spend the night. Hell, this reminds me of Kristallnacht and the Nazis. I'm concerned, and we'll talk when you get here. You'd better be packing too, because this is a dangerous night to be out.”
“Okay, see you in a bit.” James said and they hung up.
Damn, they have maybe thousands dead from the NBA game, riot
s and looters in six or seven major cities, the rednecks have attacked Muslim mosques in Houston, who are suspected to have sent two suicide bombers to blow up in malls. Oh, there it is, the Memphis Mall and a mall in New York City have both had explosions with an unknown number of dead. What in the hell is going on? Frank thought.
“This is Burt Wilcox of WDBB news, and we interrupt this program to report the possible explosion of a nuclear device of some sort near Washington, D. C. Again, we have reports of the detonation of a possible nuclear bomb or dirty bomb in the Washington, D. C. area. Initial reports indicate there are many known dead; the explosion was so bad, it blew down brick buildings for almost four miles from the explosive center. Right now the police are asking everyone to avoid the area. There is also the risk of fallout from the radiation and the winds are blowing to the east. I take you to Tanya Brown, who is on the scene.”
“Burt, I am being kept away from the danger zone by police but complete buildings are gone, to include the White House. It is known the President was in the building earlier today, but the First Lady was visiting Houston, Texas showing support for undocumented aliens and refugees. Houston, which has exploded overnight since the President declared martial law, with the state, county and city police saying they will not and cannot support martial law. So, tonight Texas is not under martial law and many other states, mostly Southern, have followed in the footsteps of the Lone Star State. Mississippi Governor, Bill Spence, said today, quote, 'The White House can go to hell as far as the great state of Mississippi is concerned.' unquote. James Boxer, the Governor of Alabama sent the most chilling comment today when he said, quote, “You can have my guns when you peel my cold dead finger from the trigger.” unquote. Burt my first glance indicates that the While House is truly gone.”
The cameraman panned the whole area and the White House was completely gone with no sign it had ever stood. When the camera returned to the reporter, she said, “This is Tanya Brown of WDBB reporting live from Washington, D.C., back to you, Burt...”
“We have been told by a reliable source that the United States military refused orders today from the President to enforce martial law, stating the second amendment authorizes the civilian population to privately own weapons. They stressed they are bound to support the Constitution by their military oath. They have also stated the UN troops that are stationed on American soil have 24 hours to leave or we will consider their presence an act of aggression and an act of war against the United States, and the troops will then be removed by force. These are truly troubled days for the United States of America.”
The camera suddenly switched to a different reporter who said, “This is John Steeples, reporting from Houston, Texas, with a special report. We have unconfirmed information that the First Lady has been killed, beheaded actually, while visiting refugees. Again, this report has not been confirmed, and we have no word from the White House or the President. But witnesses spoke to us of seeing her headless body being dragged around the streets by two men on a motorcycle. There are rumors of her head being photographed and posted on various social media sites.” A camera switched to showing what looked like the First Lady's head laying in a pool of blood on a post on a Social Media site, declaring 'the witch is dead.' It was a color photograph, but it left little doubt in Frank's mind the President, if he survived the blast, was now a widower.
The camera returned to the reporter, “Again, none of this is confirmed, but there seems to be heavy fighting with the local state militia, local cowboys, and others against the Muslims in the city. If you listen closely, in the background you can hear the gunshots. This is John Steeples reporting; back to you, Burt.”
“We're going to take a station break, so stay tuned to WDBB, Houston. We'll keep you up to date on local, regional, national and international news as it happens.”
Frank heard his doorbell, pulled his Ruger .45 and, moving to the door, he asked, “Who is it?”
“It's me, and I brought some beer.” James said.
Frank unlocked the door, let James in and asked, “Where's Donna?”
“She got called into work. Seems the Houston cops are having a full day on the job.”
“Have . . . have you seen the news?”
“No, I was working on a dollhouse.”
“The shit has hit the stump and I mean all over. It looks like the President is dead, along with his wife, the cowboys and rednecks are attacking the Muslims, and. . . and much more.”
Opening a beer, James smiled and said, “Well, aren't you going to give me the bad news?”
“Damn it man, I'm not joking. Some fools set off a damned nuke in Washington, D.C., the Southern states are leading us to another civil war, and the armed forces have more or less told the President to kiss their asses.”
“I thought the President is dead.” James tossed a beer to Frank.
“He's thought to be dead. If he is, that leaves that dumb weak dick of a Vice-President calling the shots.”
“Sounds to me like no one is in charge, then. Brill isn't smart enough to run a scout troop, much less a nation.” James took a long drink of his beer.
“I'm worried, man. The blacks are rioting all over the nation. We have the whites, blacks, and Mexicans all shooting at each other and all of them are hunting Muslims. Damn me, what a mess. The news said a few minutes ago that over 2,000 were dead at the NBA game alone, but many more are expected to die. It's a friggin' mess.”
“So, what do we do?” James asked.
“Here in about thirty minutes, as soon as we finish these beers, we're taking my Jeep and going to get our women. I know they'll not want to leave, but we need to get them and get the hell out of Dodge, man. We'll go to the hunting lodge for a couple of weeks.”
“To hell with waiting to finish the beers; take them with us. I don't think there is a cop in town tonight worried about an open container or of us driving and drinking. Both women may lose their jobs, but it beats losing their lives, Frank.”
“You hot?”
“9 mm in a shoulder harness and four magazines, you?”
“My Ruger .45, with four mags too. It's a heavy gun to pack, but if I hit you with it, you'll stay down. Come with me into the bedroom and we'll take my other weapons, too. We may not get to come back this way for a while. Grab the ammo cans on your next time in here, because I have 1,000 rounds for each weapon, except the .45, and I have, oh, close to 5,000. Let’s load this stuff and get out of here.”
“I'll hit your cupboards and bring all your canned goods, too.”
CHAPTER 4
The Houston General Baptist Hospital was full, and the sick and wounded kept coming in. Patients lined the hallway on gurneys, and now stretchers were being used, the gurneys full. The parking lot near the emergency room door was established as a triage, where Nancy Wilson decided who'd live and die, based on the severity of their problem. She was sorting and allocating aid on the basis of need and selecting those likely to benefit from medical treatment and those who would not survive. Some were beyond help and were placed on a blanket on the closely cut lawn, to wait for death. In most cases, the ill and wounded were 4 to a room now, and there was no end to the patients seen. The National Guard was working out behind the facility to setup a number of large tents.
She squatted by a man with half his head missing and using her lipstick she place a large red C on his forehead; the soldiers from the National Guard moved the injured man to the grass to await death.
She'd just bent over to evaluate a young boy, when she heard Frank say, “Come with me, baby.”
“I . . . I can't, and why are you here?” She stood and met his eyes.
As he explained the news, he could see the fatigue in her face. Once finished he asked, “Well, do you see my line of thought? The United States is going down hill fast, baby, and I want you with me when it falls.”
“I can't and won't leave right now! I have injured people here to see and I just can't walk away from them like everything is fine.
What about these people?”
Frank, angry now screamed, “I don't care about these people. I don't love these people like I love you. Are you coming, or not?”
“Let me finish this shift, two more hours and then I'll leave with you. I can't last much longer than two hours anyway, because I'm exhausted. Please, baby, I'm the only hope some of these people have.”
“Okay, but be ready to leave when I get back in two hours.” Frank said, his frustration obvious, but deep down inside, he knew his wife was right. She was a compassionate woman, which was one of the reasons he loved her.
He returned to the parking lot, found James and explained what was going on. He then asked, “Is there anything else from your place we might need? I think we should get my other weapons, along with all my ammo.”
“I have some foods saved, mainly for hurricane season and tornadoes.” James said, and then removed his cowboy hat and ran his hand through his hair.
“What kind of foods?”
“Mostly dry stuff. You know, beans, pasta, dehydrated meats, veggies and fruits.”
“Do we stop for Donna now or after we get the foods and guns?”
“Let's do it after and I'll get my two dogs too, maybe. Now, I'll bring the motorhome, because I can tow the Jeep and the motorcycle mounts on the back.”
“I need to call my kids and tell them what's going on, and you need to call yours too.”
“I'll do that as soon as we're at my place.” James said and then kick started his motorcycle.
“You lead and I'll follow you.” Franks said and moved to his car.
At James' house all was quiet on his street. They'd encountered no armed groups and no battles as they'd driven, so far, this night. Since the drive was a little over 20 miles to the hospital, they'd loaded up all the weapons, ammo and food in the camper. It was a smaller previously used camper, but had the advantage of being driven and not pulled. Glancing at his watch, James saw it was 2300, so he had another hour before he picked up Nancy.
James' cellphone rang and he heard Donna say, “Turn on the TV now and watch the News. Something has happened at the Houston General Baptist Hospital and it's serious. We have officers enroute to the place now. I have to go, but I love you.”