TYRANT: The Rise

by L. Douglas Hogan

  The group joined Nathan inside the tree line and formed a circle, as if huddled to listen for instructions.

  “Guys, whoever took this bus has our weapons and possibly Jessica. That means they’re armed and probably a large group.”

  “What’s the plan, boss?” Denny asked, willing to follow Nathan anywhere he would lead.

  “I’m going to move ahead, by myself, and scope out the area.”

  “I don’t like that,” Warren said.

  “It’s not your call,” Denny barked back. “I’ve been through the wringer with Nathan before, and he knows what he’s doing.”

  “Whatever. I meant no disrespect, just concerned for his safety.”

  “I’ll be fine, Warren, more fine than if we go as a group. It’s easier to move quietly and unseen when you’re alone. I’ll move ahead while you guys remain right here. I’ll be back within a time span of two hours. If I’m not back by then, head back.”

  Denny knew what Nathan meant by “head back.” Denny had no intention of leaving Nathan alone. But he agreed with Nathan, as did the rest of the Posse.

  Nathan made sure his weapons were locked and loaded, then stepped off towards the town.

  After a few minutes of travel, Nathan stepped out of the woods and found himself in a park. He moved from tree to tree until he came within eyesight of State Route 149. From there, he used the cover of buildings and abandoned homes. He could hear somebody speaking by use of loudspeakers. He followed the sounds of the voice, up Route 149, to a horrific display of barbarism. Nathan saw UN and US soldiers hanging from streetlights and power lines at the entrance of the city limits. The UN soldiers were hanging by their necks and the US soldiers were hanging by their feet. This enraged Nathan, but he felt powerless against an unknown foe. He took a knee and listened to what was being said from the loudspeakers.

  “NO LONGER ARE WE SLAVES TO A TYRANNICAL GOVERNMENT. NO LONGER ARE WE VICTIMS OF A NEW WORLD ORDER. WE LIVE LIFE AS WE WANT AND WE TAKE THE LIFE THAT TRIES TO HIJACK OUR LIBERTY. THESE SOLDIERS THOUGHT THEY COULD WALTZ INTO OUR TOWN AND TAKE IT FOR THEMSELVES. THIS IS THE PUNISHMENT FOR THEIR OFFENSE AND THIS WILL BE THE ANSWER EVERY TIME THEY ASK FOR OUR GUNS.”

  Nathan had heard enough. He knew he was outnumbered and outgunned, even without seeing the size of his foe. He was unsure about leaving Jess behind, but he knew he had to get back to the Posse before they did something stupid. With that, Nathan backtracked to the Posse and spent the remaining hours of daylight explaining what he had seen and heard.

  There was no doubt, they wouldn’t be able to waltz in, as he had heard the speaker say, but maybe under cover of dark, they could sneak in. The group discussed the possibility of sneaking in by night, but eventually decided that even if they did sneak in, they wouldn’t know where to go from there. Nathan agreed, but his heart was heavy. The group wanted to cut their losses and forget about the whole endeavor. It wasn’t that easy for Nathan. He was vested by having feelings for Jess, but wasn’t willing to risk the welfare of the group.

  “There’s a flip side to this,” Denny said.

  “What do you mean?” Nathan asked.

  “We still don’t know if Jess stole from us or if she was taken, but that’s a moot point when you take into consideration the fact our camp has now been compromised.”

  “He’s right,” Warren said. “If they know where we live, they can come back and take more.”

  A whole new world of problems had just been opened up to Nathan. Now he felt that he had to head back and relocate the camp. He knew that would be no easy undertaking, but couldn’t ignore the possibility of an assault on the camp was extremely likely, especially given the numbers he expected the Southside Raiders to possess.

  “I know he’s right. He usually is. Okay, we go back, reorganize, and relocate.”

  Darkness was falling, and the Posse used that advantage to follow the train tracks back home.

  Somewhere in Murphysboro, Illinois

  Jess woke up in pitch blackness. She carefully lowered the rear seat that concealed her position and crawled into the cab of the car, from the trunk. She was unsure what town she was in until she saw a Highway 5 sign and knew she was in Murphysboro. She made her way, building corner to building corner, hiding wherever she could. The streets were alive with activity. Gunshots could be heard at random times along with screams of despair or pain. Jess tried to push the horrors of what was really happening out of her mind.

  I need to focus on finding food, Jess thought to herself. She wanted to avoid going into living units, whether they be houses or apartments, for fear of not having the advantage. Eventually, she made her way to a small convenience store. The shelves were empty. There were no bags of food, no canned goods, no medicine, not even crumbs. Jess realized how bad things had become in the cities and small rural communities.

  There was no order, only anarchy where no American could live free from tyranny. Even with an absence of government in this town, there was still tyranny. Jess had a realization that night. She used to think that their fight was against the government, because it had become tyrannical. Suddenly she realized her fight had broadened and become much more complex. Her fight was against tyranny, in all its forms. She now saw the same evil in the citizenry as she did in the government. It was suddenly real to her that the great war of her lifetime had just become a whole lot more complicated. Suddenly she felt smaller and her workload had increased a hundredfold. If America was going to be free, it would take more than replacing a bad government, it would take the changing of the hearts of man. Tyranny isn’t a political party, and a tyrant isn’t a bureaucrat. Rather, tyranny is the use of power to subjugate, and a tyrant is the man with a heart evil enough to do it.

  Jessica was now seeing that tyranny had more than one form. She saw it in her capture, and she was now hearing the screams of the victims of tyranny. Suddenly, she could put a face on her enemy. It could be anybody and was made evident by their actions.

  “Please, no! Please don’t. It’s all we have,” a woman screamed from around the corner. Jess readied her M4 and ran toward the screaming. She heard a man swearing in an aggressive, deepened voice. “Give me the bag.” A shot rang out and then there was silence.

  Jess came to the corner of the building where she had heard the gunshot, and peeked around the corner. She saw a woman bleeding out at the feet of a burly man in a flannel shirt. He was going through a backpack, which Jess figured belonged to the woman now dying on the ground. Jess laid her rifle against the building and removed the pistol from her holster. She tucked it in the small of her back, then stepped out from around the corner.

  “Can I have some of that?” Jess asked the man, who quickly turned around, as if startled.

  He was surprised to see a female as attractive as Jess walking alone at night. The man took one look at Jess, then walked toward her. As he walked, he was donning the backpack, and walked about two steps past Jess, looking around the corner to confirm that she was alone. He saw the rifle and looked back at Jess. He then grabbed her and thrust her against the building in a way only a sexual sadist would enjoy. He had one hand on her face and neck and the other controlling her shoulder. Two shots rang out, and with them, bright flashes from Jess’s .45 S&W. The man let go of Jess and stepped back. She watched as he fell to the ground and she quickly went to the aid of the other woman, checking her carotid artery. Jess knew she was now deceased.

  Jess returned to the man, who was not yet dead, and removed her Leatherman from the sheath. He was groaning as she cut one shoulder strap of the backpack so she could more easily remove it from the dying man. She patted him down and found a Walther P22 pistol. She put it in the pack and stood back up and ran back to retrieve her M4. She shouldered it and stepped over the dying man in the dark alley. Jess headed southwest toward camp, unsure what awaited her in the night.

  CHAPTER XVI

  East Saint Louis, Illinois, October 27

  Buchanan and his men found themselves in the
notorious East Saint Louis area. They had tried to avoid the route altogether, but were funneled onto State Route 3 due to road blocks and street violence. They lost a heavy gunner plowing through the area. They did not waste their ammo to return fire, but instead continued southbound, with the sound of plinking bullets hitting their convoy until they were out of the area.

  Looking overhead, Buchanan and the rest of the men could see Reynolds in his Black Hawk. He was now using the same frequency to communicate.

  Choosing to move off of a popular state route, Buchanan gave the order to move down along the Mississippi to a small county road that followed the river south. He knew for certain that the UN was utilizing the Mississippi to enter the Midwest United States. That would mean their avenue of transport would be the Mississippi River coming from the Gulf of Mexico. What Buchanan didn’t know was where the UN shipments were being unloaded. Were there specific points? Were they random? He realized he needed some UN POWs to get any answers.

  Buchanan, looking at his map, saw that the next probable location to secure a shipment would be from the bridge over the river in Chester. That would be another fifty plus miles down the road. To get there meant they would have to traverse back to a popular highway. His map revealed that Route 3 would take them directly to the bridge.

  Buchanan thought hard about it as they traveled. He didn’t daydream like most do as they travel, but thought strategically about where they were, what they were going to do next, logistics, etc. He thought it would be both prudent and wise to secure that bridge and control it. The only problem was, he didn’t know the size of his enemy or how long his supplies would last. Would he and his men be like the brigands and raiding parties before the end?

  “Seven Romeo, Seven Romeo, Bravo One,” Buchanan said on his PRC-77 radio.

  “Bravo One, this is Seven Romeo. Ready to copy,” Reynolds replied.

  “Find a safe place to nest on runway. Over.”

  “10-4,” Reynolds returned.

  Buchanan thought to himself that it was time to organize a static base and the bridge was a key logistical point. Trade routes between Illinois and Missouri could be guaranteed, and UN movement over and under the bridge could be restricted. It all made sense to Buchanan, but he wanted to include his senior staff because he knew that down the road, he may need to appoint them field commissions and give them their own control points.

  Buchanan looked at his driver and said, “If we can’t have a free America right now, then we’re going to have a free trade zone.”

  “Baby steps, sir,” his driver replied.

  “That’s right. Baby steps.”

  The District

  General John James and Admiral Belt McKanty barely slept that night. They had been enjoying the hospitality of their host cab driver, but feared it would be short lived. They thought it best to keep the cab driver home from work, for fear he would give them up. Instead, they nervously stayed in his apartment and became familiar with the cab driver’s two sons, Aaron and Gideon.

  The two young men had plotted out a detailed plan and presented it to the two military heads. They had the plans on paper and spread out across the kitchen table. They spoke in clear English, although their father had a clearly Israeli accent. All five men stood around the kitchen table when there was a sudden and unexpected knock on the front door. Everybody in the apartment stopped moving and stared at each other.

  “Flush the plans,” Belt said to Aaron as both he and John were pulling their silenced 9mm pistols from their waistbands.

  Belt and John each ran to a separate closet door and hid themselves from view.

  John looked at Joshwa and said, “Whatever you do, do not open these closet doors.”

  Aaron sat on the couch and Joshwa went and lay down in his bed while his wife ran to the kitchen and started with dishes. Gideon was in place at the door, with his hand on the knob, waiting for everybody to settle in their spots. Once they were settled, Gideon opened the door, revealing two UN soldiers speaking rough English.

  “Where is your father?”

  “He’s sick in his bed. Can I help you?”

  The two men, hearing that Gideon had a Jewish accent, pushed the door open and walked into the house.

  “We will tell you if your father is too sick to work.”

  One of the UN soldiers got rough with Gideon by grabbing the shoulder of his shirt. That made Aaron stand up. When the soldiers saw Aaron stand up, they pointed their rifles at them.

  “Please, give us a reason to shoot you, you Jewish pig,” one of the soldiers said, taunting them to do something that might be interpreted as an act of treason against the government.

  “I’ll go looking,” one soldier said to the other.

  “Stay here and watch the pigs, so they don’t do something foolish.”

  The soldier then proceeded to conduct a search of the house, first looking in every room. When he saw the wife of Joshwa doing the dishes, she stopped and turned her back to the sink, rather than to the unwelcomed UN soldier.

  Hiding in the kitchen pantry and watching through the wooden blinds was General James. He watched the soldier creep up towards Zamora. The soldier had all but forgotten about the shakedown and was inspecting the beautiful lady with a dish towel in hand.

  John gently nudged the pantry door open, which was positioned about seven o’clock to the soldier’s rear. It was quiet in the kitchen and almost nothing could be heard except for the nervous breaths of Zamora as she began to slide along the sink toward the kitchen door, but was grabbed by the soldier and flung back to the sink. Zamora heard a thud and blood splattered on her face. The man’s body fell limp, but was caught by John, who didn’t want to alarm the other soldier. John had shot the soldier in the head.

  He laid him on the floor as he heard the other soldier call out, “Hamad?” He had heard the thud from the kitchen and was now heading in their direction.

  John put his hand up toward Zamora, signing for her to stay where she was. John then stepped between the counter and the refrigerator and waited.

  The other soldier stepped into the kitchen and saw Hamad lying dead on the floor with a pool of blood under his head. He then looked at Zamora and pulled his rifle about halfway up when John dropped him with a headshot, as well.

  Aaron and Gideon walked into the kitchen and saw the two dead UN soldiers. “All clear,” they sounded. Everybody came from their hiding positions and entered the kitchen.

  “We can’t stay here any longer,” Belt said.

  “I agree,” John replied. “We’ve been compromised. I suggest you and your family leave with us,” he said to Joshwa.

  “Very well,” Joshwa said as he turned toward Zamora and his sons. “Go pack some belongings.”

  “Keep it light,” John said. “Your world, and everything you know about it, is about to turn upside down.”

  Somewhere Between Gorham and Murphysboro

  Jessica took her time heading back to base. She had learned a lot about herself and the state of rural southern Illinois in the time she was away. She had killed two men, saving herself and attempting to save another. She had a new definition for tyranny. No longer could she put a face on it, but understood it to be a much more complicated issue. She had learned that preserving freedom meant spilling blood, whether hers or the blood of tyrants. She knew that the status of this new world was something she could not deal with alone, but justice, liberty, and domestic tranquility depended on patriots and their willingness to sacrifice.

  Jess kept hearing gunshots in her mind and screams for help that went unanswered. These were fresh memories from Murphysboro, a small town in southern Illinois.

  If Murphy could be that bad, she thought to herself, I wonder how bad the cities are? Jess had made it to the tracks successfully and followed them to Gorham.

  Gorham, Illinois

  Nathan was up early in the morning and had everybody pitching in, in preparation for an evacuation. He wasn’t sure which would come first, eithe
r an attack from an unknown foe or the evacuation to safety. Denny had called everybody together the night before, at Nathan’s request, and they all agreed that their position was compromised by an unknown enemy. The hard choice, for now, was where to go from here? That was the thought that kept Nathan up all night, his mind trolling back and forth from Jess to the prison he wanted to spy out. He was confident he wanted to stay. This was their home and they had earned it through groundwork and readiness.

  Nathan was helping others pack when Zig came walking up to him.

  “Nathan, you’re gonna want to come with me,” Zig said.

  His attention captivated, Nathan stopped what he was doing and followed Zig to the tracks, where he pointed toward a lone female silhouette walking toward the camp. He knew that strut to be Jess. He handed his rifle off to Zig, who agreeably took it, and took off in a sprint toward her. Jess, being too cool to run, maintained her steady stroll down the tracks. Nathan, now winded, ran headlong into Jess and picked her up off the ground, spinning her in a 360-degree turn.

  “How cliché,” she said to Nathan. “That was lame.”

  He just laughed, but she grabbed him by the back of the head and pulled him in for a first kiss.

  “That’s how you welcome someone you have feelings for,” she said.

  “I’m sorry I came up short,” Nathan replied. He felt Jess was kind of forward with a kiss, having only known each other for a short while, but he welcomed it anyway.

  “We have a lot to discuss,” Jess said as she continued on her way toward camp.

  “You wanna start by telling me what happened the other night?” Nathan requested.

  “Sure, it was a simple breach in our security.”

  “Some of our people believe that you took the armory.”

  “Well, I didn’t. There was this guy; he said his name was Scott. I had never seen him before. I’ve been seeing plenty of new faces ever since we saved the prisoners. He must have followed me to the bus and nailed me in the back of the head. I still have a goose egg to prove it,” Jess said as she reached up to rub the knot on her scalp. “When I woke up, I was bound in some room.” Jess stopped talking.