TYRANT: The Rise
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Douglas Hogan
No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
All rights reserved.
ISBN-13: 978-1511849418
ISBN: 10: 151184941X
DEDICATION
This book is dedicated to the American that pushes back against tyranny; the oath takers that do their job resisting unconstitutional laws; the American service member and their predecessors, the veterans, both living and the fallen.
This book is written as a wake-up call to every American, that there are unconstitutional laws waiting for the right moment to be utilized. There are vain and aspiring men in offices, waiting for the right moment to make their ambitions known and to build them upon the backs of the unfaithful oath taker.
Stay vigilant, oath taker, and never assume large government has your back…
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
Two names come to mind when I think of inspiration, G. Michael Hopf, best-selling author of the post-apocalyptic New World series, and John W. Vance, author of The Death and Defiant books, for encouraging me to write fiction.
CONTENTS
FOREWORD
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER II
CHAPTER III
CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER V
CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER X
CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXII
CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER XXV
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
FOREWORD
Writing a book tends to be on most people’s ‘bucket list’ of accomplishments. If you’re like me, you’ve heard it from friends and even strangers at dinner parties, over drinks, casual conversation at a café, wherever, but for some reason many people have writing a book as a must in their life. I can appreciate this desire. I too had it once and decided I didn’t want to be like so many who wish for something, I set about to doing it. Since I departed on that journey over three years ago, I am blessed to have written four novels all under the Plume (Penguin/Random House) banner. So often I hear, ‘You’re lucky.” Let me tell you, luck only takes one so far. With a book there is more than that, there is content and timing, but I don’t want to go down the long road of discussing those parts. Let us get back to the ‘luck’ part. When I’ve heard, I’m lucky, I just want to throat punch someone because they remove the most critical part of the equation, the time and effort put forth to complete the task itself. So often I hear from the would be author that I’m lucky to have found time or that I’m lucky because I had a solid idea or I’m lucky because I had the (fill in the blank). It’s all a bunch of crap. Any writer who has ever took the discipline effort and finished a novel receives my deepest respect, for they have made the effort and done what they said they would because not completing a book after you said you would is just an excuse. We all have the time, we all have the ideas, you just need to sit down and do it.
My little diatribe has a point. Months ago, my old friend, L. Douglas Hogan and I had a conversation over the phone. He had the same dream in life, to write a book. He asked me how I did it and I gave him the exact advice Hemingway had given to would be writers. It is so simple, it can be done by many people if they just get out of their own way. His advice, “Just write.” That’s it, that’s the simple thing. Don’t get in your head, don’t edit as you write, just write your story. Once you have it all done, then go back and edit, then go back and rewrite. Many people never finish because they will spend countless time editing as they go, this leaves them frustrated and unable to complete the work. I gave this advice to Doug and he ran with it. He sat down and began to write. Within weeks he put forth a non-fiction book. He then set out to complete a work of fiction and did it quickly. How? He will tell you what I told him. Just write. Just sit down and start hammering the keyboard.
I have incredible respect for Doug. He took simple advice and applied it. Now he has two books, including this incredible work of fiction that I know you’ll enjoy. I could not be more proud of his ability, discipline and creativity. Doug, my friend, welcome to the world of writing. You can now wear the title of “author” for you have taken the time and effort. Keep going and don’t forget to pay it forward with other writers.
Stay frosty –
G.Michael Hopf
Best-selling author of THE NEW WORLD series
“I have sworn upon the altar of God, eternal hostility against every form of tyranny over the mind of man.”
-Thomas Jefferson
PROLOGUE
By the year 2025, the United States had run its economy into bankruptcy. For years, fiscally conservative Republicans and Democrats complained about the unsustainable deficits. The liberal news media had stopped covering issues regarding the US economy, choosing instead to cover the brutalities of war and police use of force. Censorship against US citizens was the norm and any kind of media coverage on the government was the exception. The Federal Communications Commission controlled the Internet, congressional legislation forced local business to pay ever-increasing minimum wages, and the government was providing healthcare and other amenities at the expense of private and corporate infrastructure. Taxation was no longer meeting the requirements necessary to sustain the status quo.
By 2030, local business could not afford to pay its employees. The US dollar was almost worthless and the government could no longer sustain public welfare. The Internet was inaccessible, joblessness was above ninety percent, it was illegal to gather in public groups, and free speech was redefined.
In 2031, the President of the United States, seeing she could no longer control the angry American mobs or provide for the starving masses, declared martial law, invoking Executive Orders 10998, 10999, and 13603, seizing all public modes of transportation, and declaring eminent domain over all farmland, oil fields and refineries, water supplies, and food-processing plants. No one was allowed to store food, horde water, or own energy sources.
Shortly thereafter, Executive Orders 10995 and 10997 went into effect, seizing all media, including radio, TV, telephones, satellite communications, newspapers, and lastly, electricity. In a matter of months, there was a complete revocation of constitutional law. It was no longer safe to travel, trade, or offer opinionated speech. America went black.
CHAPTER I
Southern Illinois, October 22, 2032
Jessica’s morning started like any other morning. Southern Illinois in the fall is the place to be for anybody that loves stormy weather and the sound of thunder as lightning flashes through the sky. It wasn’t exactly her dream home, but it would do for the time being. Her shoddy, half-sunk, rusty barge stank of fish and dirty river water, but it was away from the ensuing chaos in the town up the hill. The Chester Police refused to work for free, and the Randolph County Sheriff’s Office didn’t agree with the unconstitutional control of the US citizenry. Essentially, all rural areas of the United States were left to their own devices, so long as it didn’t interfere wi
th the president’s hold on executive power.
Before the “Flip,” a term used to describe the day the first executive order was declared, Jess was a full-time correctional officer and a part-time police officer. She was only thirty-two, but had twelve years vested into the state as a correctional officer, and six years in law enforcement.
When the Flip went down, southern Illinois was already in disarray and any person with a keen eye could see it coming. At first, Jess was most worried about all the southern rednecks as food sources began to dwindle. Her first instinct was to be wary of them because she feared they would use those arms to secure food in unlawful ways. After the Flip, she saw these rednecks more frequently in the woods. That was how they secured their family’s food sources. As she thought on it, she came to understand that these people had been armed for years and were perfect law-abiding citizens.
Early on, after the Flip, she had found herself having to readjust to new norms and force herself to rethink and retrain her mind. The old ways were gone and a new era required new thinking. For Jess, this meant watching the new behaviors of the people she had previously sworn an oath to protect through the upholding of the Constitution of the United States. She had sworn the oath on two separate occasions: first when she was hired on as a CO, and the second time when she was hired by the city of Chester to work as a cop.
On this particular morning, Jess had an inkling to walk up the city steps, from the shore of the river to the Randolph County Courthouse, in an effort to acquire a copy of the US Constitution. To do so would mean leaving the cover and security of her camp and exposing herself to the hazards of the world above. Jess felt that she was up to the task, so she donned her service pistol, which was a Glock 22 chambered in .40 caliber, and secured it in the small of her back, where it was snugly fitted against her frame, concealed in a padded holster. She also had an AR-15 in .223 with a 5.56 chamber. Its sixteen-inch barrel provided for excellent tactical use when combined with its collapsible stock, but did not have much accuracy beyond three hundred yards. She had previously taken the scope off of it because it only bumped around the reticles and became more of a nuisance than anything. Besides, she was an accurate shot with her iron sights and felt perfectly capable without a scope.
Jess slung the rifle across her back. She was wearing khaki-colored tactical BDU pants with cargo pockets and a bullet-resistant vest under a khaki-colored long-sleeved tactical shirt. On the sleeves and shoulders of her shirt, you could see the outline of where her police patches used to be. After the Flip, she knew what was next, so she tore them off. Jess wanted no association with the tyranny of the federal government. Whether it was true or not, she believed the people would make the police out to be the face of government. Jess was first and foremost an American. She wanted to move up that hill and secure a copy of her country’s founding document, so with a deep breath and a quiet sigh, she headed up the city steps towards the courthouse.
Upon approaching the back side of the courthouse, where the Sheriff’s Department was attached, Jess could see that the Sheriff’s Department’s vehicles had broken windows and the body of the vehicles were spray-painted with various graffiti and vulgar threats about law and order. She noticed the sally port door was still in place, but the windows to the Sheriff’s Department were broken and the building itself was exposed to the elements. Jess removed her AR from where it was slung across her back and brought it to the ready as she carefully and cautiously approached the entrance to the apparently abandoned building. The inside appeared to be ransacked. There wasn’t any sign of life from what she could tell. It wasn’t but a moment of standing still and listening before Jess heard a noise coming from the jail area. It dawned on Jess that there may yet be prisoners, either loose or jailed, in the building.
The jail gate was open and she took her time to listen a moment longer before maneuvering toward the sound. What she heard was eerie and sent chills down her spine. It was the sound of feeding carnivores, crunching bone, and tearing meat. Jess knew that bobcats had made a comeback in southern Illinois, but reasoned that what she was hearing wasn’t exclusive to bobcats. There were too many scuffling sounds to be a bobcat. Bobcats are solitary predators and this sound was more like a sound of pack animals. The sound was steady, so she moved slowly toward the dispatch office and turned left towards the jail, her weapon at the ready.
CHAPTER II
Nathan Roeh had been out of the Marines for fourteen years. He was now thirty-eight years old and lived in what used to be Grand Tower, Illinois. He was the leader and founder of a group he titled “Southern Illinois Home Guard.” He had started the group years prior when the need for a resistance group became a growing concern. He had spent several years blogging on the Internet about the decline of American values and morals and the rise of progressive thinking. He knew that one day there would be a call to service and a time that he would once again have an opportunity to serve his oath to the country. Most laughed him off and others thought he was just a pessimist, but he knew the truth was fast approaching that the government would eventually make its move against liberty.
Nathan was a web designer before the Flip went down. He was working for an encrypted conservative blog site when the FCC shut them down; and not just the bloggers, but all Internet access was restricted to government communications. He now found himself, as most remaining Americans did, merely surviving.
He had set up a protocol with his group that covered many possible scenarios. In the case of a government takeover, or “martial law” as it was previously known, the group was to travel to Gorham, Illinois, where they could set up a low-profile resistance group, for starters. There were originally a group of twenty faithful members that attended regular meetings and kept in touch, using the United States Postal Service as their primary mode of communications. Some members of the group believed the government was listening to their phone calls and collecting text messages. So it was widely known that “snail mail” was the least of all the evils and thereby used. Unfortunately, when the Flip went down, only five showed up at the predetermined rally point. Nathan believed the small outcome was the result of the government shutdown that laid off all civilian mail carriers.
Among the five group members was Todd, a rugged thirty-two-year-old outdoorsman and country boy from Evansville, a town a few miles down the highway. He was never in the military but spent most of his waking hours wishing he had served, especially after the Flip. Todd liked to fight, deeply respected veterans, and followed their leadership sacrificially. When the Flip went down, he grabbed all thirteen hunting rifles, along with ammunition, and made a beeline to the rally point.
Ziggy, or “Zig,” as they called him, was from Murphysboro, also known as “Murphy” by the locals, and was less than a half hour from the rally. Zig owned a ranch and lake house in the country. He was fifty-three and as sharp as a tack. He took those cattle and horses, when the POTUS invoked EO10998, to a plot of land that belonged to a deceased friend. That plot of land, not too far from the Shawnee National Forest, was well hidden under the canopy of Jackson County’s woodland.
When the Flip came, Zig brought along his cache of pickled food supplies, farm equipment, a cache of fuel, guns and ammunition. All of which was concealed in the forest where no government drones had prying eyes. In the fall and winter months, the group used camo netting. Periodically, the group traveled to the herd and slaughtered a cow to carry the meat back to base camp. The team was careful to plot their patrol so that they returned at night, disguising their food supply under cover of darkness. This technique was an important practice because there were more than a fair share of both loyalists and bandits living in the southern Illinois region.
Nathan’s best friend, Denny, was a Navy Seabee Corpsman that served about the same time as Nathan. Denny had been stationed at Camp Pendleton, California, and was attached to an infantry battalion when he met Nathan. He was a die-hard Corpsman and was considered by some that served with him to be one
of the Marines, even though he never officially earned the title. Denny was thirty-six and still in top shape. He and Nathan regularly held training meets with the group before the Flip. On those training days, they would learn first aid, room clearing, and simple tactical and guerilla operations. Denny took charge of the emergency medical training and Nathan handled the grunt work.
Denny was an RN at Chester Regional hospital before the Flip. Denny raided the hospital the day it closed its doors for the last time. Those medical supplies had proven invaluable many times since then. His integrity had always been very high, but he knew what was happening and that things were about to change forever. He reasoned that taking those supplies would insure the group’s ongoing safety and security.
Ash was a twenty-three-year-old taxidermist. He was learning his father’s business before things turned upside down. He was an avid hunter and enjoyed working with his hands. He was also a canine trainer before deciding to take on taxidermy with his father. Money never was that good and times were hard with the inflation. It wasn’t uncommon for people to have two or more full-time jobs, because the tax rate seemed to invalidate everybody’s work. Ash’s childhood was tough. The tax rate grew as he did, so he never really knew what “better times” were.
The SIHG had it good as it was, given the situation the world was in. They had a secret operation of sustainability on the mighty Mississippi River. Their group, together with their families and combined skill sets of those still surviving in Gorham, made for a semi-comfortable living, one worthy of the times. Their operation consisted of small garden areas, kept discreet and spread out for the purpose of concealment; breeding beef cattle and milk cows; chickens; fish; weapons and ammo; and two guard dogs, which Ash brought from his home near Prairie Du Rocher.