by W. R. Benton
The camera switched to the studio.
“The Conservative States of America accepted the unconditional surrender of the state of Illinois early this morning, and I take you live now to Bill Bodeker in Chicago, Bill.”
“I'm standing in the courtyard of the state capitol, and scattered all around me are the bloody bodies of dead and wounded UN troops. CSA medics are working as quickly as they can, but there are just too many. The local hospitals are full, as are the school gymnasiums, and it's gotten to the point that tents are being set up on the capitol grounds. The taking of this one city alone cost the UN over 200,000 troops, while the CSA lost approximate 20,000 dead and wounded.
One of the first things done here by the CSA military Commander was to order the arrest of the mayor and all council members. They are currently locked up, pending trials over their apparent misuse of funds. As a liberal city, there was absolutely no resistance by civilian residents. Guns found hidden in some homes brought an instant execution by the army, unless they showed as the legal owner of the weapons in our computers. The legal guns were then taken from their owners and will be returned at some point in the future.
I want you to hear what Colonel John H. Applegate said as he addressed the fallen town on television.”
The next image was of a Full Colonel dressed in battle dress uniform standing in front of a podium. His face was camouflaged with face paint and his cheeks dirty from mud.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of Chicago, I come here today to explain some rules you'll have to obey for an unknown period of time. From this moment on, unless you are certified by two doctors to be either physically or mentally disabled, if you don't work, you don't eat. Those of you with full-time jobs, this doesn't apply to you. If you want to eat and work, register at any of our soon to be posted work detail groups. These groups will look your family up in the computer, and if both adults are working you can then, after work, claim your funny money to go to our warehouses and select your foods. The only place in the world this money has any value is at our storage facilities.
If you are caught cheating about the number of kids you have, claiming you're married when you're not, or using counterfeit funny money, the first time is 30 days in jail, the second time is 6 months in jail. If we catch you a third time, you'll be executed for attempted fraud of the Government of the Conservative States of America. And speaking of executions, the whole state is now under martial law, and that means if you're seen out after dark, you will be shot.”
“What about my rights!” a chunky black woman yelled.
“Lady, you are essentially living in an occupied state right now, which means you have no rights.” the Colonel replied.
“Ya gonna see some riots then.” a man yelled from the back of the crowd.
“I will warn all of you once and only once, so please listen to me. If you are out after dark, you will be shot, if you riot, you will be shot, every last one of you. If you need medical assistance for any reason, dial 911 and wait. If you drive and we catch you, you and the ill person will be shot to death. I am warning you, this is serious business.”
“What about my first amendment rights! I know my rights.” the chunky black woman screamed once more.
“We only honor the first amendment for citizens of the Conservative States of America. You, lady, are basically a prisoner of war in an occupied state, as I said before. You will do what you are told, or face the consequences.”
“Some will try them and you know it, sir.” the bartender said.
“Yep, and they'll die, too. We're going to clean Chicago of its bedbugs and lice.” the President said and then turned the TV off.
“What a mess. Chicago is as crooked as a snake, sir.”
“We will investigate the politicians, judges, police, and all of them. I suspect some public hangings will take place soon. From now on, hanging is the method of execution for our nation. Additionally, three violent crimes and you're soon dancing on the end of a rope. You'll hang for raping a child as well as shooting a police officer, even if you fail to kill him or her. Goodnight, Bill, I'm off to bed.”
Bill stood and said, “Goodnight, Mister President.”
At the morning briefing, intelligence said they had proof the NWO was behind a huge riot the night before in Chicago.
The agent briefing intelligence said, “The following video is graphic and was taken during last night's riots. The only people allowed out after dark are a select few media folks. This cameraman was not one of them and was discovered dead last night after the riots. A total of 1,102 protesters were killed in the riots. We had one loss, one of our Army Privates accidentally shot himself in the left foot.”
The movie showed folks moving, mostly men of black or Hispanic descent. It must have been the cameraman's voice that said, “People are carrying signs and it is well after dark.” The cameraman focused on two different groups of CSA military men, and they appeared to be assembling a machine-gun on a tripod. “There are no police, but here come CSA troops marching out in an orderly fashion and as you can see, they are waiting, still in ranks. I hope this does not turn violent, but I feel it will.”
A Major yelled, “Disperse immediately or we will shoot. You were warned before.”
“We know our rights, so death to the Conservative States of America! You sumbitches can't tell us what to do! We know our rights!” a young white woman in front of the line yelled back.
A split-second later, the Major said, “Fire!”
The two machine-guns, placed at different angles, began to spit bullets at a high rate of speed. People in the crowed began to fall, with some screaming, some not making a sound, but all surprised they were being shot at. Protesters began to scream and flee but then the army troops began to shoot into the masses and many more people died. As the protesters broke and ran, the army went after them, using dogs, tanks and armor to track them down.
“Mister President, by dawn, the protesters were all dead, as well as the cameraman. His camera was found and as a result, it was taken by intelligence. As you can see, the rioters clearly broke the law. They were testing us to see if we meant what we said. An additional 128 people were executed overnight in the whole state of Illinois. If we do not enforce martial law as we are, resistance groups will move against us.”
“Yes, yes, I agree. I just hate killing for such a small offense, but they know the rules. As for the resistance, no prisoners; kill every one we take prisoner.”
“Over the day yesterday, and all last night, we used B-52s, B-1s, and B-2s to bomb California. Our targets were industrial areas, shipping ports, and military complexes. Additionally, the White House was leveled.”
“Our losses?”
“Fifteen aircraft, with all but four being fighters. Three were C-130s and one was a helicopter, which we lost during a rescue attempt.”
“Their losses?”
“The UN did not have a good day, sir. We downed thirty-eight fighters, three helicopters, four transport aircraft, and six drones. An advantage they have is when their pilots bail out of a bad aircraft, they land on friendly soil. Ours, according to drone images we have taken, are hanged or hacked to death by frustrated civilians. As you know as an Air Force veteran, sir, our pilots are only issued a .38 for protection.”
“Start issuing them 9mm with at least 6 magazines for the weapon. Do we currently have search and rescue operations going on?”
“Yes, sir, we do. A Captain Alex Baldwin had his F-16B, a two seat model, shot down early yesterday as he led the first wave of fighters. His aircraft sustained severe engine damage and was losing fuel. At some point, he and his weapons system operator, WSO, had to get out and walk. We've had only one conversation with Baldwin and that was near noon yesterday. To get him out safely is currently a big SAR operation, sir.”
Captain Alex Baldwin had teamed up with his WSO on the ground a little after noon the day before, but Dave Hill had injured his left arm during ejection from the aircraft. The arm appeared to
be broken right above the wrist. The bad guys were looking for them, but they'd come down at the western base of the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Baldwin kept them constantly moving east to get deeper in the mountain range.
Baldwin had entered the Air Force through the AFROTC program, and had applied for pilot training, hoping he would be smart enough to complete the training. He was a man of average weight and height, with gray eyes that spoke of his high intellect. Generally a quiet man, he knew you could learn more by listening than talking. While not bad looking, only two women in his life ever called him handsome, his wife and his mother. He doubted either one was being completely honest, but he appreciated their kind comments. He removed his flight cap, ran his hand threw his wet auburn hair, and hoped his wife was not worried about him. It was growing hot already.
They both had a survival kit along with a survival vest, and had enough gear to survive, if only food and water could be found. The night before, they'd heard men searching for them and they seemed to be civilians. Neither man wanted to be recovered by the general public, because they were known for their brutality with prisoners. Also, they often hanged their captives or killed them on the spot.
Lieutenant Dave Hill was a graduate of the US Air Force Academy and had graduated as the #2 cadet just a year ago. Smart, good looking, and single, he was popular with the ladies. His blond hair attracted some, while his rugged facial features and square chin, or blue eyes pulled in others. At only 22, his flying mates called him Baby Face, due to his age.
“Alex, I hurt, man.”
“I have some morphine with self-injecting syringes, but I don't want to use them until help is near or we find a damned good hiding place. If I give the drug to you now, you'll fall asleep and I would be forced to leave you behind if I had to move quickly.”
“Let's move . . . then, because I need something . . . for the pain.”
Pulling a map of the area from his pocket, he moved close to Dave, and pointing on the map, with his index finger, said, “We're right here, and I make out a lake to be about three miles from us. If we can reach the lake, it's possible we can follow a running stream uphill for a distance and establish a rescue site.”
“Let's go . . . because this . . . pain is killing me. Hell, I . . . may pass out . . . from the pain alone.”
“Hang tough, Baby Face, and we'll be safe in a couple of hours.
“Don't start . . . that shit again.” Dave said, and then forced a smile.
“Let's move, then.”
Both men were wearing camouflage makeup on their hands, necks and faces which allowed them, with their sage green flight suits, to blend in well with the brush. Alex had turned the radio off, to prevent it from making noise that would compromise their position. Silver and gold watches had been removed, as well as all rings, so they'd not flash in the sunlight. Both men were serious about escaping and evading, but Dave's injury was about to get the best of him. They moved slowly, but at a steady rate, and stopped often to listen.
They moved parallel to an old logging road and when about halfway to the lake, a lone man was seen sitting on a log. They froze in position and when the man turned his head, they dropped to their knees. Alex looked the man over closely, not liking what he saw.
The man was carrying an M4, and had what looked like an old 1911 .45 pistol stuck in his waistband. He also wore a pistol belt with grenades and another pistol in a holster. However, he was not dressed in a uniform, but wearing jeans and a brown cotton long sleeved shirt.
After a few minutes, the man stood, made his way toward the two fliers, and at the very edge of the road he unzipped his jeans to pee. When the stream of urine started, Baldwin lunged forward with his large survival knife, the blade going into the man's soft stomach to the hilt. The man's hands came up to block the blade the second time but missed, and once again the blade went in deeply, but this time Alex jerked the blade hard, from left to right.
The fatally injured man attempted to scream to warn others, but his body wouldn't obey his mind. His thoughts were confused and he was unable to pull a pistol to defend himself. He fell to the mud in the road, almost in a puddle, unable to move at all. He felt his killers taking his gear and weapons, and he wanted to stop them, but slowly his world faded until all was black.
“Let me drag him into the woods and then we'll move on. I'll keep the rifle and grenades, because I don't think you're in any condition to use them. I took some other things from his pockets and even have his backpack, but have no idea what's in it. Now, let's move.”
Four hours later, the two men were situated on the side of a mountain and going through the stolen backpack. They found four MREs, matches, four filled magazines for the M4 and three for the.45. At the bottom of the pack was a full quart of whiskey, so Alex handed the drink to his WSO.
“Drink just enough to take the edge off your pain.”
As Dave guzzled the booze, Alex tried the radio. He switched to beeper for fifteen seconds, then turning the beeper beacon off, he said, “This is Talon One to any aircraft, mayday, mayday, mayday.”
“Uh, Talon One, this is Low Rider Six. I read you five by five.”
“Low Rider, I need a ride home.”
“Understand. Let me call base.”
“Roger, go.”
Long minutes passed, then finally a voice said, “Search and rescue are headed your way, Talon, so relax. ETA is twenty minutes.”
It was then Alex saw about a company size group walking toward him and all were armed.
“Low Rider Six, I have company coming.”
“I'm in an A-10 and I can lend you a hand. Uh, but first I need to locate you better. Turn your beeper on for 30 seconds. I'll fly toward you and when I'm overhead, say now.”
“Roger, I remember how this game is played.”
He switched his radio to beeper and waited as he counted off the seconds. Low Rider came screaming out of the sky, which caused the men moving toward them to seek cover.
As the A-10 flew overhead, Alex switched from beeper to voice, and said, “Overhead . . . 3 . . . 2 . . .1, uh, now. I'm ten meters to the left of when I said now.”
“I have you visual. Get your heads down, and keep them down.”
The A-10 banked slowly to the right, lined up on the men on the ground and began its approach. Alex saw two puffs of smoke from the aircraft and two missiles moved toward the hillside. There came two loud explosions, followed by screams. Then the Gatling gun on the nose opened up.
Pieces of bodies flew into the air as the bullets tore apart anyone they struck. Dirt was thrown ten feet or more into the air by the shells, often after passing through a man or two. Shrieks of pain were heard when the gunfire stopped. When the aircraft lined up for another pass, the men on the ground were seen running to the trees, opposite of where the downed fliers were located.
“Uh, Talon One, this is Sandy. I'm a minute or so ahead of Rescue One. I have some napalm, if you need it.”
“Sandy, Low Rider here.”
As Low Rider explained where the two downed men were, Alex felt like a small animal was chewing on his guts. He was so nervous his hands were shaking violently.
“Talon, get your head down. I'm going to use some shake and bake on the tree line opposite your position. Starting my run now.”
An F-18 moved over the trees at a high rate of speed and two containers fell from the bird, and were seen flipping end over end before they struck the trees. When the container exploded, a solid wall of fire shot high into the air and assisted by the momentum of the jet, spread out like a burning wave of flames. The heat was felt by Alex and Dave. Screams were heard as some of men burned to death.
“Uh, Talon One, this is Save One and I have you visual. Do you have any injuries at this time?”
“Negative, I'm fine, but my WSO has a broken arm, over.”
“I'll lower a forest penetrator and I want both of you to come up at the same time. Once at my door, do nothing and my crew will pull you into the aircraft.”
“Roger, copy.”
“Okay, coming in now.”
I have to wait for the penetrator to strike the ground or the static electricity will knock my ass for a loop, Alex thought, as he remembered his survival training.
A few minutes later the chopper was right above them as the penetrator lowered.
“Uh, Sandy, I'm taking ground fire from east of the burning trees. Taking fire, taking fire from the trees.” Save One said over the radio.
Alex and Dave quickly moved toward the penetrator, and the second it struck the ground, he lowered two seats and pulled two tabs, one of which went under their arms. He slung the M4 over his shoulder, tightened the strap around Dave and then gave a thumbs up. As they ascended by an electric wench, ground fire grew heavy from almost all directions.
“Uh, Falcon, I have to move now, so hang on.”
The aircraft moved forward toward the top of the mountains, and Alex knew he was squeezing Dave so hard it was probable his thumb print would remain on his skin for life. He refused to look down, and he was looking at the chopper when a line of bullet holes ran across the side of the bird. It was then the winch began to move again. Soon they were at the door, the winch stopped, and a man wearing a helmet pulled them into the chopper and unstrapped them. He then pointed to red nylon seats and motioned for them to put their seat belts on. One man near a machine-gun was sprawled out on the floor, looking at Alex with unseeing eyes, his neck and chest ripped open by something. A medic moved to Dave, gave him a shot of morphine, and began working on his injury.