False Flag

by Bobby Akart

  “We got ‘em,” said Katie, breathing heavily from the adrenaline. “Are you impressed?”

  “Hell yeah,” replied Steven. “You did great, and you didn’t shoot anybody.” He laughed.

  “They didn’t deserve it.”

  Chapter 21

  Sunday, September 18, 2016

  9:00 a.m.

  Prescott Peninsula

  Quabbin Reservoir, Massachusetts

  Abbie’s life revolved around politics and climbing the imaginary ladder of success. She was near the top rung, the likely next Vice President of the United States, and the ladder was abruptly pulled out from underneath her. She didn’t have a partner, that significant other, to act as her sounding board or a shoulder to cry on. His lifeless body was left in a heap on a rain-soaked patch of St. Augustine grass in Florida.

  For two weeks, Abbie mourned the loss of Drew. She hadn’t dated anyone since her breakup with Sarge over a decade ago. They maintained a friendship, but any sign of intimacy was gone. Now she was alone, deserted on the Prescott Peninsula with her father and his friends. She had no sense of purpose.

  There was so much uncertainty in the country, which diminished her feelings of self-pity. Reports were coming in daily of looting, riots, and murderous gangs taking over the city. Law and order was rapidly disappearing, only to be replaced by a Citizen Corps that used its newfound power for personal gain.

  Donald was winding up the morning briefing—long on despair and short on hope. He can’t fake it anymore. Donald and Susan approached her and sat down on top of the picnic tables. Abbie managed a smile before she spoke.

  “Gee, Donald, you really know how to liven up a crowd.”

  Donald laughed as he replied, “Yeah, I’m a little short on material today, or every day, for that matter.” Susan put her arm around Donald and smiled as she looked into the eyes of her husband. He added, “How are you holding up today, Abbie?”

  “I’m better today, thanks,” Abbie lied. She searched for a subject that might take her mind off her loneliness. Texas. “What are you hearing out of Texas, Donald? Are they still closing their borders?”

  “As a matter of fact, there is a little bit of news that I picked up last night from a few ham radio operators,” replied Donald. “The governor continues to defy the President. He is refusing to allow anyone into the state that can’t prove their residency. The Texas Rangers have expanded significantly and are essentially deporting anyone, American citizen or otherwise, from the state. It’s getting ugly, but Abbott feels like he has a duty to protect his citizens first.”

  “Greg plays hardball,” said Abbie. “Before all of this happened, he was pushing his Texas Plan, which was part of several proposed amendments to the Constitution.”

  Susan perked up and asked, “What is the Texas Plan all about?”

  Abbie enjoyed the opportunity to discuss politics with her friends. She missed the campaign. She missed the head of her security detail even more. Abbie sat on the picnic table opposite the Quinns and explained the plan.

  “Governor Abbott was fed up with liberal, activist courts infringing upon states’ rights,” she began. “He was attempting to strengthen the Tenth Amendment, which provides that the powers not delegated to the federal government by the Constitution were reserved to the states and its citizens. It was Greg’s opinion that our Congress had become neutered by a President who consistently acted in violation of his Constitutional authority. I’m sure the Declaration of Martial Law sent him into circuit overload!” The three laughed, although the serious topic was anything but funny. This felt good to Abbie, so she continued.

  “The President’s increased use of executive orders to circumvent the authority of Congress was destroying the foundation upon which America was built. Our Congress began to accept these actions as commonplace, which eroded the people’s confidence in our government. Greg’s solution was to propose several amendments to the Constitution and officially called for their ratification at a Constitutional Convention.”

  “I like his approach,” said Donald. “Unfortunately, the shit hit the fan before we could fix the fan itself.”

  “It was a long shot anyway, Donald,” said Abbie. “Greg thinks like a revolutionary. You might recall that the President issued several executive orders last year restricting gun rights. He took to the airwaves and town hall meetings to exploit the deaths of innocent people to further his political agenda.”

  “I remember that,” interrupted Susan. “Governor Abbott issued a tweet in Greek—Molon Labe—which stands for come and take it. I admire him for taking a stand.”

  “Yeah, me too,” added Donald. “Abbie, what do you think the states should do when the federal government usurps their power?”

  Morgan joined the conversation and sat next to his daughter. Abbie didn’t mind her father’s presence. She was in her element now.

  “It’s an interesting dynamic,” replied Abbie. “There are occasions when a state carries out resistance to the federal government’s unconstitutional use of power. Texas closing its borders is a prime example. If a particular state takes an action that the federal government doesn’t like, but that has the support of the people of that state, the federal government can’t do anything about it unless it is willing to use force.”

  “Have we gotten to that point?” asked Susan. “I assume the President is sending troops to intervene, and we know the UN has amassed their so-called peacekeeping forces along the Rio Grande.”

  “There may be a war, Susan,” replied Abbie. “I hope it doesn’t come to that. Ordinarily, when several states oppose an unconstitutional encroachment by the federal government, the states can organize a powerful means of opposition. The citizenry can refuse to co-operate with the federal officials. Also, the state legislatures can enact laws to thwart and impede the federal government from furthering its unconstitutional schemes.”

  “James Madison wrote about this in The Federalist Papers,” interjected Morgan. “Madison wrote that not all states will necessarily oppose unconstitutional overreach by Washington. Nevertheless, this should not impede those states that do. It was originally envisioned by the Founders that the states could choose not to implement the federal government’s directives. This changed over the years with the carrot-and-stick approach to government.”

  “What do you mean by that?” asked Susan.

  “Over time, as the federal government grew, lawmakers found a way to centralize power in Washington,” replied Morgan. “During the Civil War, Congress sought a way to fund the expenses. They established the Commissioner of Internal Revenue, who was given vast powers to collect taxes on behalf of the federal government. As the decades passed, those in Washington began to realize they could control the states by making the money available to them—for a price.”

  “A hefty price,” said Abbie. She admired her father in moments like these. He was knowledgeable, confident, and spoke with conviction. Over the years, he had shielded her from the details of his business and political dealings. Plausible deniability, he would say to her. Despite her misgivings about his methods, she always respected his successful results. She studied him as he spoke. He looked tired, as if he was holding onto an inner pain. Her beloved father had aged considerably over the summer. If he would open up to me, I might be able to help.

  “That’s right, dear,” said Morgan. “Washington made the states increasingly dependent upon federal coffers to operate. The money, whether raised in taxes or through the operation of the printing press in later years, was available to those states that toed the line. If a particular state resisted the federal mandates placed upon them, they wouldn’t get their share of the pie. As a result, their citizens suffered in some cases, which brought political heat on state lawmakers.”

  Donald attempted to sum it up. “So, the carrot is the almighty dollar and the stick is the government’s threat of my way or the highway.”

  “Very eloquent, Mr. Quinn.” Morgan laughed. Donald smiled as he
earned another hug from his wife. “The President has divided our country by cultural regions. While it is true that his new Council of Governors is based on FEMA regions, he has strategically placed people loyal to him in each position of power. I suspect he will use the same carrot-and-stick method to bring those regions politically opposed to him into the fold.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Susan.

  “Let’s use the southeastern part of the nation as an example,” replied Morgan. “This is FEMA Region IV. Those eight states represent the vast majority of the old Confederacy and almost always vote Republican in presidential elections. The President sought to appoint an insider to the governor’s position that would be, shall I say, tolerable to the Southern point of view.”

  “So centrist-democrat Congressman Jim Cooper, from Tennessee, was his choice,” said Abbie.

  “That’s correct, but Cooper is not cooperating,” said Morgan. “He’s not toeing the company line, as they say. I suspect he will be replaced with someone more heavy handed soon.”

  “The carrot-and-stick approach is not working with Cooper?” asked Susan.

  “No, Mrs. Quinn, it is not,” replied Morgan. “It has not worked in Texas either. I believe the President is going to make an example of Texas.”

  “These are difficult times,” said Donald. “How will Texas stand by itself against a President who has more power than any of his predecessors?”

  “I don’t know, Donald,” replied Abbie. “But the world is watching.”

  Chapter 22

  Sunday, September 18, 2016

  8:00 p.m.

  Citizen Corps Region I, Office of the Governor

  99 High Street

  Boston, Massachusetts

  Brad rode in silence as he took in the decaying landscape of Boston. Broken glass littered the streets, as did the abandoned vehicles. Some roads were impassible as the city, or the governor, took no effort to tow them out of the way. Brad marveled at how quickly things had unraveled.

  Dealing with the dead was an even bigger problem. Now that the nation was in its third week of the collapse, Americans began dying of natural causes due to dehydration, disease, and starvation. Brad verily believed that murders were the leading cause of death, and suicide was on the rise due to the lost hope of the people.

  The widespread belief corpses posed a major health risk was inaccurate, especially if death resulted from trauma. In third world countries, dead bodies were likely to cause outbreaks of diseases such as typhoid fever, cholera or plague. In a postapocalyptic America, decomposing bodies might transmit gastroenteritis or food poisoning syndrome for survivors if they contaminated streams, wells or other water sources. In Boston, nobody was taking steps to dispose of the dead, whether by burial or cremation.

  Gunny Falcone slowly maneuvered the HUMVEE towards the headquarters of the new Citizen Corps governor. Brad and Captain Gibson were summoned to meet with O’Brien. Although Brad expected a tongue-lashing of some kind, he didn’t care. Under the circumstances, their plan worked, as twenty-six of the forty-four armories were protected. Brad had a prison full of O’Brien’s men under armed guard at Fort Devens, and their own armory at 1PP was capable of equipping a battalion. He was anxious to see how the governor was handling this setback.

  “Wait here, Gunny, but stay frosty. Everyone should be considered a hostile.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Brad entered the lobby, which looked more like Don Corleone’s men who had hit the mattresses than the offices of the regional governor. Clearly, the governor was on edge. Brad knew it was a matter of time before O’Brien called upon the President for help—probably in the form of an outside military presence. Brad was frisked and then escorted up the stairs. Captain Gibson and O’Brien were waiting for him in the conference room.

  “You’re late,” gruffed O’Brien.

  Brad didn’t respond.

  He motioned for Brad to sit down by waving his arm in the general direction of a chair. Brad kept his eyes trained on O’Brien. He intended to use the stare as a form of intimidation. Plus, he wanted to study O’Brien further, as this was only their second meeting. Captain Gibson had effectively become the liaison between Brad and O’Brien, but Brad wanted to establish his own connection with the man.

  “Colonel, Mr. Pearson will not be joining us,” offered Gibson. “We need to discuss a few things that will not involve him.”

  “May I speak freely, Governor?” asked Brad, playing the part of dutiful soldier.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Prior to the cyber attack, Mr. Pearson was insistent upon moving my regiment’s assets to other locations outside of your region, sir,” said Brad. “I voiced concern to my superiors that Mr. Pearson did not have our unit’s best interests at heart.”

  “What are you thinking, soldier?” asked O’Brien. He leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands on his belly. Brad thought he looked bigger than their first meeting.

  “Pearson is a civilian, sir, and as such, he might have loyalties and interests elsewhere.”

  “Like where, Colonel?”

  “Region II, sir. I’ve received word from Fort Drum that they are gearing up for a major offensive into New York City to restore order. Once that has been achieved, the governor of Region II will be installing a new mayor.” O’Brien listened intently as Brad spoke. The seeds of doubt were planted.

  “You think Pearson is a part of that?” asked O’Brien.

  “I have two pieces of intel for you, Governor. First, Pearson is a native New Yorker and his former boss at Federal Protective Services is the governor of Region II.” Brad stood and pulled three photos out of his jacket. He slid them across the table to O’Brien, who picked them up and examined them. They depicted three Green Line Maintenance trucks driving up to a checkpoint where Interstate 90 crossed the Hudson River.

  “What are these?” he asked.

  “They were taken by a checkpoint security cam outside Albany, New York, sir. Your men and your weapons are en route to Fort Drum.”

  “This fucker took my guns?” asked O’Brien. “Where the hell are my men?”

  “We believe your men may have received a better offer, sir,” replied Brad. “But I have a solution.” Time for the pitch.

  “I’m listening.”

  “My Marines are loyal to their country, sir. They are willing to die for her. But they also have families that they want to care for and protect.”

  “That’s understandable,” O’Brien interrupted.

  “Throughout the military, troops have abandoned their posts to go home,” said Brad. “The same is true at Fort Devens. I believe I can persuade them back to active duty if we could make room for their families and give them priority access to provisions and supplies.” I’ll give you an army—my army.

  “I don’t see a problem with that,” said O’Brien.

  “With your permission, sir, I’ll reassemble my regiment under the promise of food, shelter, and safety for them and their families.”

  “Do it,” O’Brien said as he stood. He added, “Gibson, give the colonel whatever he needs to expedite this.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Captain Gibson. Brad and Gibson stood to leave when O’Brien walked toward the window overlooking a rain-soaked Congress Street.

  “One more thing,” said O’Brien. “Issue a treason warrant. Bring me Pearson!”

  Chapter 23

  Tuesday, September 20, 2016

  6:00 p.m.

  Town Hall

  Belchertown, Massachusetts

  Residents of Belchertown, Massachusetts, shuffled their way across Belchertown Common toward the makeshift stage. In Small Town, U.S.A., war memorials were defining features of the landscape. They usually featured iconic statues that served as focal points in, and sometimes symbols of, the town’s hub—its center of activity.

  The defining feature of the Belchertown common was the commanding presence of a Civil War monument. Standing twenty-six feet tall, including the Union Civil
War soldier, the monument cast a long shadow as the sun set to the west. Illuminated by the sunset, a bronze plaque on the west side of the base read:

  ROLL OF THE HONORED DEAD WHO WENT FROM BELCHERTOWN AND FOUGHT IN DEFENCE OF LIBERTY AND THEIR COUNTRY

  The residents of Belchertown were about to be encouraged to wage war, in the name of their country, by its newly appointed town chairman of the board of selectmen, Ronald Archibald.

  “Gather around, folks, we’d like to get started so that you folks can get home before dark,” shouted Archibald, the head of the Central Massachusetts Citizen Corps office. “We have a lot to discuss, and then there will be a brief question-and-answer period.”

  A week after the Declaration of Martial Law, Archibald was contacted by Pearson, who was acting on behalf of Governor O’Brien. Archibald was one of five selectmen on the board, but not the chairman. After several lengthy interviews that day with Mr. Pearson, it was determined that the politics of the chairman was not a good fit for the Citizen Corps, and he was summarily dismissed. Archibald, an environmental law attorney and president of the Belchertown Lions Club, was a perfect substitute.

  Pearson approached the stage and sat in a folding chair behind Archibald. Although there had been several informal gatherings of the Citizen Corps team leaders with Pearson, this was the first opportunity to address the residents as a whole. The turnout was around five hundred people, mostly men.

  “Thank you, everyone, thank you,” said Archibald. “As many of you know, our President is doing everything in his power to protect the citizens of our nation and small communities like this one. When I was asked to head up the Citizen Corps council in Hampshire County, which now includes the entirety of the Quabbin Reservoir, I was concerned that I couldn’t achieve the lofty goals set by our President. With the help of our new governor, James O’Brien, and the folks at FEMA, we have been able to secure some fresh water, food, and medical supplies for those of you who have chosen to work with me in the rebuilding effort. I know it isn’t much, but it’s a start. I’ve been assured that there will be more to come.” Archibald had lived in Belchertown his entire life and was acquainted with nearly all of its residents. He relished this opportunity to shine in front of his constituents.