by Warren Ray
Elliott tilted his head. “Hard to have imagined all of this.”
“What about you?”
“With everything in the country going to hell for the past year or so, it feels good to be doing something meaningful, but then I wish we were fighting the Chinese.”
Winters nodded.
They stared out over the expanse of the empty fields. There was a certain beauty in being able to see all the way to the horizon with no trees or hills to block the view.
Winters glanced at Elliott who seemed to be really relishing the moment. He wondered if Elliott felt as much anxiety as he did. Probably so, as it wasn’t easy for any of them to come to grips with knowing you are fighting your own countrymen.
His thoughts turned back to his wife, how he wished she were here so he could seek her advice. She always knew when something bothered him.
Even in high school, he’d had a secret crush on her but was too shy to ask her out. She’d sensed his fondness and asked him. They dated throughout high school. After graduation, he had decided on community college instead of going away to a university and leaving her behind. Their relationship blossomed into a thirty-year marriage. He was always in a better mood when he was with her. In all their years of marriage, the two were rarely apart but now that he had been plunged into war, she was starting to become only a beautiful dream.
Meeks walked up with Scar. “Morning, Captain.”
Winters snapped out of his thoughts and turned to them.
“Morning. Elliott informed me someone took off with one of the trucks.”
Scar turned to Meeks. “Quiet little bastards. I didn’t hear a damn thing.”
“It’s not like we’re holding a gun to anyone’s head,” said Winters.
They walked over to the fire, grabbed coffee and food, and bantered amongst themselves. Soon, everyone was awake and moving around the camp; getting themselves ready for the day. Small talk amongst the men focused on those missing, and why they felt like they needed to go off the way they did.
“So, we headed to Rockford?” Scar asked Winters.
“We need to get supplies before we go anywhere.”
“Surely, we can spare two or three of us.”
Winters set his coffee cup down. “I don’t think that would be such a good idea, if something goes wrong, we’ll need everyone with us.”
“Yes, we might, but then we might not. A few of us could go and just check things out.”
Winters didn’t answer.
Scar stubbornly tried again. “I know you’re hesitant to split up the group, but it’d save time and more lives than if we wait.”
Winters picked up his cup and took a sip. Scar’s guilt trip started to work on him. He didn’t want to endanger his men any more than he had to, but on the other hand, by not leaving right away, it meant a death sentence to the volunteers at the Rockford center.
“Okay fine, we’ll go, of course, I’m assuming you want to go?” Winters asked.
“Yeah, I’m really not much of a scavenger.”
“Uh hum,” said Meeks without opening his mouth.
Scar smiled at him. “Well, you sure you can handle it with that little flesh wound of yours.”
“Well, despite the agonizing pain, I can man up.”
Winters turned to Elliott. “You up for this?”
He nodded.
“I’ll go as well.” Winters figured he would rather go with them, than worry all day while they scoured the countryside looking for supplies.
Nate came walking up. “Go? Go where?”
“Rockford,” replied Winters.
“What about fuel and supplies? I told you last night we need to re-supply.”
“I know, but at the same time, I’d hate to have any more of those Illinois boys get murdered because we needed supplies.”
Nate didn’t respond.
“Do you think we could siphon off enough gas for two pickups?”
Nate replied with an attitude. “That’s not a problem. I take it the four of you are going?”
Winters sensed Nate felt left out. “Yes, and I really need your help rounding up supplies, and most importantly, keeping everyone safe.”
Nate glanced over at his friend Elliott. “Fine. I’ll get ya a couple of trucks ready.”
He walked off.
Elliott got up. “He’ll be okay.”
Winters felt bad for Nate, but on the other hand, the last thing he needed was someone too gung-ho, who could get them in a bind.
Winters didn’t like splitting up his forces. If one group got into trouble, how would the other know? Not having radios or any other kind of communication equipment put them at a disadvantage. A bad feeling swept over him thinking about it, and his stomach began to knot as he prepared to leave most of them behind.
Chapter 32
Rock Island Illinois
Colonel Nunn sat at his desk reading the report from Major Green. He shook his head after finishing it. He was angry because of the situation he was in and wondered what was going to happened once Commandant Boxer arrived. He yelled out to his sergeant. “Have the Major come in.”
“Yes sir,” responded Sergeant Owens who turned to Green.
Major Green stepped to the room.
“Tell me about yesterday’s events, Major.”
Major Green stood before Colonel Nunn and gave him a complete run-down of the previous day's events, including the deaths of two of his men and how Lieutenant Crick was wounded.
“How’s Crick?” asked Nunn.
“He’s fine, the bullet just grazed his arm.”
Green waited as Nunn took a deep breath and lowered his head to read the report Green had prepared for him. Green was surprised that Nunn hadn’t yet blown a gasket, so he continued and showed him a picture of the message left on the building.
Colonel Nunn took the picture and read the message. “What do you think we’re dealing with here, Major?”
“A bunch of old men who are nothing more than murderers,” said Green.
Nunn looked up at him. “Well Major, seeing how they killed two of your men, I don’t think we should underestimate them.”
“Yes, well their action was completely unexpected. We certainly weren't anticipating any kind of resistance.”
Nunn changed his tone. “Exactly. You didn’t have your men properly prepared, and now we’ve got a hell of a mess on our hands.”
Green continued his defense. “Well sir, I’m a little confused as to how prepared I should have been. Why would I expect someone to be shooting at us? Also, what exactly does this message mean? Are we killing innocent Americans?”
Nunn crossed his arms. “What the hell are you implying, Major?”
“It’s a little strange that someone would want to take out these Patriot Centers. What do they know that I don’t, Colonel?”
“I don’t think I like your tone, Major.”
“Quite frankly sir, I don’t care. Two of my men are dead and another three injured. I want to know why?”
Nunn got out of his chair. “You are on a need to know basis, Major. Your job is to hunt these men down and I expect you to do your duty. Do I make myself clear?”
Major Green did not respond.
Nunn tried to control his anger. He didn’t want Green to leave in too foul a mood. No telling what might happen. Green had a way with his men and they liked him. He could easily persuade them to mutiny. At some point, the major would learn what’s really going on. Operation Wildflower was a delicate subject, and Nunn knew it wouldn’t sit well with the men. Although the money was good, and he had made a deal to stay out of jail—bottom line, it even left a sour taste in his mouth.
“Major,” he paused. “I will overlook your insubordination in light of the loss of your men. I’m not heartless. I know what it’s like. However, you need to remember who your enemy is, Major. Despite our personal differences, it is not I. Now you need to get out there and capture the bastards who killed your men.”
“Yes sir, I’
m sure it’ll just be a matter of rounding them up now that they’ve had their moment of resistance.”
“We’d better hope so because I have some explaining to do to the head of the National Police. He’s arriving here any minute.”
Chapter 33
James P. Boxer, Commandant of the National Police, arrived thirty minutes late for his meeting with Colonel Nunn. The colonel needed a reminder of the gravity of this operation, and how a rebellion could easily thwart their plans.
Boxer wore glasses on his cherub-cheeked face and tried to part his hair to hide his balding head. He had a Ph.D. in Psychology and had worked in public affairs for the government for the past ten years. He had been instrumental in the ongoing propaganda campaign initiated by the new National Government. His use of political correctness had been most effective in subduing those in power and the population in general. This and his overall brown nosing had secured his current position.
“Commandant Boxer, please come in,” said Nunn who towered over his visitor.
“Good morning, Colonel. A pleasure to meet you.” Boxer extended his hand to give him a limp-wristed handshake.
“Have a seat.”
Boxer sat down. “Colonel Nunn, let’s get right down to business, shall we?”
Nunn didn’t respond.
“Colonel, we cannot afford to have a rebellion on our hands and we certainly can’t have anyone spreading vicious rumors. The media, will, of course, report what we tell them. However, if things continue to escalate, word will eventually leak out to the public, and then chaos will ensue.”
Nunn nodded.
“So, in light of this, the National Police will be taking over. I’ll need you to give us all the support I require.”
Nunn protested. “The Military is not under the authority of the National Police.”
Boxer looked confident. “It is now, Colonel. If you had done your job properly, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You think I really want to be stuck out here in Hicksville cleaning up your mess?”
A surge of energy exploded inside of Nunn, who wanted to reach across the desk and wring the arrogant bastard's skinny neck. He restrained himself only because he knew Boxer had powerful connections in Washington. He didn’t like this guy, and he sure as hell didn’t trust him. If things went south, no doubt the little weasel would put the blame on him. He had to be careful and play his cards right with Boxer, who was intelligent, for sure, but very arrogant.
“Commandant Boxer, I apologize, it just threw me for a second. We’ll certainly give you all the assistance you need to crush this rebellion. What can I offer you immediately?”
Colonel Nunn’s demeanor pleased Boxer.
“Oh, and one other thing, Director Reed wanted me to tell you he wants a meeting with you in Washington tomorrow. So, I’ve got my jet waiting.”
Chapter 34
Davis Junction Illinois
The hour and a half drive from Wisconsin down to Illinois had been uneventful. They hadn’t seen a single vehicle on the interstate. Besides a dwindling population, the lack of fuel and the increased cost attributed to the absence of traffic. The government controlled the distribution and kept a large portion for their exclusive use. Any fuel available on the market came at such a high price most people couldn’t afford it. Routine driving was out of the question and vehicles were used only for emergency purposes.
The two pickups pulled into another little town south of Rockford, Illinois. It was a farming community, and like most others had a small downtown filled with dilapidated brick buildings. The obligatory grain silo stood as a tall sentinel, greeting all those who entered. The houses lined up on the main street needed their lawns mowed but that wouldn't be happening anytime soon.
Winters wondered if the Patriot Centers were all located in small towns to avoid too much attention to their real purpose.
They quickly spotted the Center by the large American flag flying outside. They parked the trucks one street over and walked to the back of an abandoned house to survey the area.
“Heck of a nice flag they got,” said Meeks.
“Yes, it is,” said Scar.
“Methinks, that flag needs to come with us.”
Scar patted Meeks’ shoulder. “We could use a nice flag.”
“Seems pretty quiet, Captain,” said Elliott.
“Sure does.”
The four of them continued to watch the building for another thirty minutes. During which time, a couple of the workers came out to smoke, but there was no other movement.
Scar suggested he and Meeks go ahead and sign up. They debated whether the four of them should storm the place or just send in two volunteers. After some back and forth, Scar persuaded Winters to let Meeks and him go in alone.
“Okay, Scar, but I don’t want you guys to take any chances, if you get nervous, get back outside and we’ll cover your escape.”
“No problem, Captain. We got this,” said Scar.
They each stuffed a pistol in their waistband behind their Carhartt jackets and headed back to their beat-up truck.
Winters and Elliott watched from across the street as they pulled up to the Center.
As soon as Scar and Meeks got out of their truck, two guards, carrying shotguns, approached them.
They put their hands up and Scar asked. “Hey, what’s with the shotguns, is this how you greet volunteers?”
“Never know what kind of trouble you get out this way,” said one of the workers, who had a lazy right eye.
Scar smiled at the two. “Well, we’re no trouble. We just want to sign up is all.”
“Go on in, they’ll get you taken care of.”
Meeks held the door. Scar walked in and headed toward the man sitting behind a desk. The man was young and bald-headed with multiple tattoos running down his neck.
The tattooed man put down his coffee cup. “You guys are pretty early.”
Scar came toward him. “We got done with all our errands and had nothing else left to do.”
“Well, it’s going to be a while. Our first run doesn’t leave till the afternoon. You guys can take a seat and fill out this paperwork while you're waiting.”
Scar leaned across the counter to pick up the questionnaires and pens and sat at the table sitting to the right of the entrance. As they both filled out their paperwork, a short man with a red beard, which matched his curly red hair, walked in from the back. He had an AR-15 hanging from a sling around his chest. He made eye contact with Scar and Meeks but didn’t acknowledge them. He looked at his tattooed friend behind the desk who shrugged his shoulders.
Meeks curled his mouth into a half smile and raised an eyebrow at Scar miming, “What a strange man.”
They finished filling out the one-sheet questionnaire with contrived answers.
Red Beard stared at Meeks and finally asked him. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”
Meeks replied. “I don’t think so.”
“No, I’m sure I do.”
“Don’t you hate it when that happens.”
“Are you from around here?”
“No, live south of here.”
“I’ll remember, I never forget a face.”
This made Scar and Meeks uneasy. With two guards outside holding shotguns and Red Beard with a semi-automatic rifle, their situation quickly became more tenuous than they had anticipated. They would need everyone to relax before they tried to draw on them. Plus, they didn’t know if there was anyone else in the back. Scar motioned his head in the direction of the door and Meeks winked in agreement. They both got up and started to head out. Before they reached the exit, Red Beard spoke at them again.
“Did you play college ball?”
The question surprised Meeks. He initially thought about lying and debated it for a second, but decided to go ahead. “Yeah, I played.”
“I thought so, you were a running back weren’t ya?”
“Right again. You a big football fan?” asked a surprised Meeks.
“You got me again.”
“Now don’t tell me, let me think,” he said snapping his fingers. “Meeks, you’re Meeks.”
“Wow! I’m impressed with your memory, cause that was a long time ago.”
“Ya, I was just a little kid, but I never forget a star player in the Big Ten, especially one who embarrassed us a time or two.”
“Those were fun times.”
“So, if you played for Iowa, what are you doing over here in Illinois?”
Meeks didn’t expect this kind of questioning and wasn’t prepared. He stood thinking of something to say, and finally said, “What do you mean?”
“Well, if you’re from Iowa, why would you be over here?” asked Red Beard in an elevated tone.
“I have family in the area,” replied Meeks hoping this would satisfy him.
“Family huh.” He kept staring at Meeks while he continued to talk. “I ask only because of some trouble over in Iowa at another Patriot Center. So, we’re just a little skittish here.”
“Can’t say as I blame ya.”
The man kept his attention on Meeks and Scar, and the next few moments passed in an awkward silence. “Aren’t you gonna to ask me what kind of trouble it was? Hell, if someone told me that, I’d be a bit curious about it.”
At this point, Scar knew they were in trouble. He started to think about the pistol tucked in his waistband, but when he began to move his arm, Red Beard lifted his AR-15 and aimed it right at his face.
“Move back to the table,” he yelled.
They both backed up until they hit the wall.
He grabbed their paperwork. “Well, look who we got here, Steven Cuyler and Thomas Barnes. That’s really interesting cause I could have sworn I was just talking with a guy named Meeks. So, what’s the deal here?”
Chapter 35
Rock Island Illinois
Major Green sat at his desk, studying the map of the Midwest, trying to come up with a strategy to catch the rebels, when his sergeant came to the open door.
“Major, we got a report on some pickup trucks trying to get fuel from a closed down gas station over in Wisconsin.”