by Johnny Jacks
Grayson caught what he said and his anger bubbled.
“Wouldn’t pay to be an alpha rooster around this farm.” Samuel drew laughs.
“Why bottle-fed calves?” Mark asked.
“Makes them tame and easier to milk later on.”
Grayson, looking funereal, returned to business. “The chicken and rabbit coops are completed, and a couple of neighbors are providing breeding stock next week.”
Samuel asked, “Wouldn’t some goats be good for milk?”
“Goats are a pain to deal with,” Grayson clipped. “Sheep may be better. Research it everybody, and we’ll decide at next month’s meetup.”
“I saw a donkey in the pasture. What’s its purpose?” asked Charles.
Grayson sighed. “Donkeys are territorial. They protect calves by killing coyotes, and they’re much louder than dogs when sounding the alarm if strangers or wild animals come into the area.”
“We have plenty of sheds for the animals and plan to begin our individual cabins next month. Do you have plans for other buildings?” Mark asked.
Grayson’s skin mottled. He rubbed the back of his neck and charged through a litany of information with no time for questions.
“I’m designing a large underground concrete storage space with a sizable two-story lodge above it, large enough for community meals, meetups, etc., and extra living quarters, if needed. The below-ground area will be cool and dry for storing our guns, ammo, two-year food supply, etc. It’ll have space for a small medical facility, communications center, and a tactical operations center.”
“Won’t the locals question the underground storage?” Joe shrank back when Grayson turned his cold eyes on him.
“I’ve contacted a Waco company about building it. The local contractors won’t have a clue that it exists.”
“They’ll notice all the heavy-duty equipment coming in,” Charles said.
“I’m doing what I think is best, Charles. You got a better idea?” Eyes shot to the floor and a heavy silence filled the room.
Yeung was tiring of Grayson’s attitude. “I thought this was supposed to be a team effort. Aren’t we all part of the decision-making process?” He looked around the room for confirmation. Receiving none, his voice fell, “Maybe I misunderstood….”
“If someone asks,” Grayson said, “I plan to say it’s a tornado shelter and a root cellar to store my vegetables and smoked winter meats,” Grayson said.
“I think you mean, our vegetables and meats,” Pablo said.
“If anybody’s unhappy with what I’m doing, just say the word.” Grayson glared around the room. “Or better yet, spend more time up here working and you’ll know what’s going on.”
Ramirez stood. “Let’s take a short break. I need to hit the can.”
~~~
Ramirez found Grayson pacing in the backyard. “You want to tell me what crawled up your butt? Or do you prefer to be rude until your temper gets the best of you?”
“I’ve worked my ass off for these guys, and all they do is criticize. They plant a few seeds and think they’re gonna save the world!”
“If I remember correctly—and I’m sure I do—you volunteered to do this. If you needed help, why didn’t you ask? Leading a team at the BOL is the same as leading a team in Afghanistan. The other members must first know what’s needed before they can help. Look, son, you’ve had something stuck in your craw since we got here. Spit it out.”
Grayson turned his head away and stared into the distant night. “Got a lot on my mind.”
“Maybe being alone isn’t good for you. Take a vacation. We can take turns coming up here for a week at a time and keep things going.”
“Let’s get this meetup over with.” Grayson walked away.
~~~
Ramirez called the brooding group to order again. “Let’s talk about the cabin locations that Mark and Yeung have been planning. Who wants to go first?”
Charles raised his hand. “Since we agreed at the last meetup to stick to rustic, single-room, two-by-four framing, plywood walls and floors, and metal roofs, the structures will be simple to construct. I’m ready to build mine.”
Grayson, his sour mood discernable, intervened. “If we go about this piecemeal, it’ll be a rat screw.”
Pablo’s face turned red. “Rat screw or not, we have an agreement and a plan. I’m ready to build, same as Charles.”
Joe headed off an explosion. “Grayson is correct, and so are you, Pablo. We all want to get on with building our cabins, but we’ll have a better chance of success and make it easier on everyone if we do it as a group project.”
Mark picked up immediately. “Good thinking. Yeung, you’re our Sea Bee guy. Can you bring a list of materials and tools we need and give us a cost estimate for each cabin ready for the next meetup?”
“Actually, since we decided to have individual shelters for each family, I’ve already prepared my own list of materials and a simple drawing. I can email the plans to everyone. If we buy in bulk, we get a discount at the building supply company. I’ll be glad to manage that.”
Ramirez jumped in. “All in favor say ‘aye’.”
All responded except Grayson, his face emotionless. Nobody said a word to him.
Yolanda spoke to Ramirez. “I’ve been rethinking the plan. It’s too rustic for those of us with, or hoping for, children.” She smiled at Mark. “A small log cabin with several rooms would be better.”
“That would be more comfortable,” Ramirez said. “Remember, we’re an organic gardeners and hunting and fishing club in the eyes of the locals. We must make the BOL look authentic for those purposes.”
Mark pulled her close. “When the poop hits the fan, we only have to survive a few months to get through the die-off. After that, with only about ten percent of the population alive, we’ll have plenty of abandoned farms to occupy or open land on which to build our house.”
“Okay. But I want to paint the outside pink and wallpaper the rooms.”
Mark looked to Joe and sighed.
“Got you!”
When the laughter died, Charles asked. “Won’t we be vulnerable to ground attack with bullets flying through the plywood walls?”
“Already thought of that,” Mark interjected. “The cabins will be in a circle and the windows high on the walls. When the collapse occurs, and before the situation becomes critical, we’ll use the dozer to push a berm up against each cabin’s out-facing walls and the excavator to dig a deep, wide trench around it with a retractable footbridge. We have pallets of sandbags in the barn to shore up any place that needs it. That allows us to shoot out while still being well protected from incoming bullets. It’s not possible to eliminate all incoming fire, but once attackers get a taste of what we send their way, they’ll get the hint to not mess with us.”
“Lots of good points,” Ramirez said. “There’s still a lot of prepping left to do, including completing the two-year food supply. The new solar and wind power station is adequate, but we need to add hydro and gasifiers for the gasoline generators and the old Ford tractors. It wouldn’t hurt to do the same for our sixty-eight Ford if it’s to be a functioning BOL vehicle when refineries no longer produce gas.” He looked at Grayson. “Did I overlook anything?”
“We need more hand tools, enough to last a lifetime. We’re still missing expertise in numerous areas, including medical and communications. The dual band, UHF/VHF radio repeater, small solar panel, and battery power setup are ready for our local area communications. Long distance shortwave radio is still a problem.”
“What else is in the communications plan?” Charles asked.
Grayson’s reply stung. “If you’d take time to read the BOL plan you’d know. When the collapse occurs, I’ll place the solar-powered repeater at the top of the tall cell phone tower to the south. Other major projects pending include digging trenches to run the telephone wires between the buildings.”
Charles ignored Grayson’s insolence. “What happens to the
repeater if we experience an EMP?”
Ramirez grinned. “Charles, you are officially the MAG worrier, but ask good questions. Grayson, it’s apparent that we need to schedule a few folks at a time to come help you with these major tasks. Let’s keep our eyes open for a good ham radio operator, somebody who knows more than just how to turn on a handheld radio.”
Charles ignored Grayson. “I have a strong potential recruit, but still vetting him.”
Grayson resumed his briefing. “We’ll keep the repeaters—three so far—and the other survival electronics equipment in the below-ground Faraday cage that will be built into the lodge. We’ll bring out a portion of the equipment, keeping spares secure until after EMP attacks are no longer a threat. You need to keep your personal handheld and mobile radios at home in your portable Faraday bags. How many of you purchased BaoFeng handheld radios with extra battery and chargers?”
Everyone raised their hand.
“How many of you have the ham license that allows you to use them legally?”
All hands but Mark’s dropped.
“Study for the damn ham licenses and don’t forget to bring your radios for the fall BOL activation exercise,” Grayson barked. “You’ll need them, especially for night patrols.”
Yolanda broke the tension. “The chief and Mark are drilling us with tactical training and map reading in Davy Crockett National Forest.”
“That’ll help tremendously come fall. Everyone go on Google Earth and become thoroughly familiar with this area.
“I need a ten-minute break before going into the last order of business. It’s very important, and we need to be fresh.”
Islamic State of America - 8
Texas State Prison
Year -4
Under Akeem’s watchful eyes, Carlos recruited fourteen of his men and placed them on the path to reversion. Akeem was impressed with his success and reported it to Imam Omar through his prison administrator brother. It was time for his initial discussion with the group.
Akeem greeted each with enthusiasm and, speaking softly, began his first lesson. “The first thing you must understand is that you were born Muslim.” He knew they would question his assertion, but it got their attention.
He held up his Quran and pointed to it. “The Prophet Mohammed—peace be upon him—said, ‘No babe is born but upon Fitra, which means as a Muslim. It is his parents who make him a Jew or a Christian or a Polytheist.’ If you are willing, I will lead you to revert to Islam.”
“My men are ready.” They acknowledged Carlos’ assertion with their gang sign.
Akeem looked stern and pointed his right index finger high into the air. “This is the only sign you must make. It is to honor Allah. One day, Allah will rule all of America and Mexico. Carlos will be your leader and you his deputies with men of your own to command. Insha’ Allah, god willing. Everything the infidels have, their property and their women, will be yours for the taking.”
“What’s ‘for the taking’?” Marco asked.
Akeem was glad to explain. “You will have the power to kill unbelievers, take their possessions, and make their women and children your slaves. You can do with them as you wish; they will be your property. Allah declares it. You can take up to four wives, even females as young as nine years old, as did Mohammed—peace be upon him—and as many concubines as you want. Allah gives you the authority. To earn that authority, you must first give yourself to Allah, say the Shahada, and follow the teachings of Mohammed—peace be upon him—and the hadiths, which I will explain later.”
“I see you with your holy book and know it’s the Quran. But what is this other thing you speak of?” Carlos asked.
“The Hadith is the record of the traditions and aphorisms of the Prophet Mohammed—peace be upon him—and is a foremost basis of Sharia and moral guidance, second only to the Quran.”
Marco didn’t understand. “We read and write a little Spanish and some a little English. We ain’t educated in the university like you.”
“Do not worry. While we are in this infidel hellhole, I will teach you to speak and write Arabic, about Islam, and our history, other things too. Work hard and do well, and I will take you to Egypt with me. There you will become immersed in the language and learn to be a holy warrior for Allah.”
The thought of becoming educated and having the respect it would give them drew interest from all the men, Carlos in particular. “We study much hard.” His men replied with great enthusiasm, pointing upward with their right index finger.
Akeem scanned his new apprentices, looking intently at each for a fraction of a second. His emotionless face caused some to pull back. “Are you afraid to die?”
Carlos cocked his head and looked around. “We ain’t afraid a nothing!”
“That is good. After completing your training in Egypt, we will send you to Africa to lead other Mexican Muslims to fight infidels and establish Sharia. Insha’ Allah. There, many of you will remain for years and gain much combat experience. You will become brave warriors. Any man who dies bravely in battle against infidels and apostates will go to Paradise, and Allah will give him seventy-two virgins.”
A crooked grin lit Miguel’s face. “Seventy-two virgins will be all mine?”
Akeem lowered his voice. “Yes. If you die a brave man. But, Hell is yours if you die a coward, running from the enemy of Allah.”
Sticking out his chest and patting his brother on the back, Carlos bragged, “Miguel and me will die brave men and have many virgins.”
Chapter 26
Guerrilla Warfare Ain’t Easy
Year 3
Grayson scanned each face before throwing gasoline on a lit fire. “I’m going to suggest an OPSEC change of direction. I believe we need to open the MAG to the local militia, the SET Patriots.”
His remark met a cold reception and not a few negative remarks. “Calm down! This is for discussion only—decision later.”
Once they settled, Grayson explained. “So far, today we’ve talked about water, food, shelter, and communications, but not security. I have a proposal that I’d like you to consider. We are short on members and long on ideas. Many preppers are in this area and are open about it. Everyone is scared of what’s coming. That presents us with the potential to add to our security force by expanding our operation into the local community.”
Samuel, the cynic, jumped to his feet. “You’ve got to be kidding! We don’t need anybody else in the MAG! The BOL can provide well for our needs. Taking on others, we stand to lose everything we’ve worked to achieve. Our families might end up refugees starving to death on some stupid roadside or shot by bad guys.”
Yeung, his voice shaking with anger added, “I’m sorry, Grayson, but I agree with Samuel. We need to keep our operation a secret. What the hell good does it do if everybody knows why we’re here? What would keep them from overtaking us and stealing everything?”
Mark agreed. “The thought bothers us, too. But Yolanda and I are willing to listen to your ideas. You’re living here and getting to know these people. And you haven’t steered us wrong so far.”
Samuel was spitting mad. “It’s stupid! Plain stupid! We would open ourselves to being overrun right away!”
Grayson prickled with anger. He was many things, but stupid was not one of them. Let go of your ego and explain so this egghead can understand.
“Samuel, calm down.” Charles said. “Grayson brought it up for discussion. Give him the courtesy of listening. Nothing has changed.”
Samuel hurled himself back into his chair and glared at Grayson.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but at my first MAG meetup you talked about needing to grow the group, get other skill sets on board, court locals. What happened to that concept? Where are these members with the expertise we’re missing?”
“We’re working on it,” Charles said.
Grayson sighed. “Working on it? For how long? I look around and they aren’t here. Let’s be honest, it will take years to find all the
reliable preppers in Houston with the skills we need who would join us out here.”
Dead silence met Grayson’s remarks. I don’t know if I embarrassed them or pissed them off.
Grayson started over. “Pablo, you haven’t said anything. What are your thoughts?”
“Mixed, to be honest. Outside of police operations, you and the chief have knowledge and insight in the security arena that we don’t—that guerrilla warfare stuff you told me about when you were a Green Beret. I’d like to think we can trust the locals to work with us, but like Samuel, I fear they would become desperate and overrun us. A man with a starving family doesn’t have a conscience.”
Joe nodded with each statement Pablo made.
Grayson briefed Ramirez earlier and he concentrated on the objections. Pablo opened the door for him.
“Pablo, you’re right. What happened to trusting each other? Grayson and I have years of experience working with indigenous guerrilla bands and a damn good idea where our strengths and weaknesses are. Low numbers are a big security problem with no prospect for rectifying it. Charles, didn’t you mention an electrician prepper you were vetting? What’s his potential?”
“Sorry. He didn’t work out. He’s a boozer.”
“Grayson is checking out the locals to see if they might be a good fit with our MAG,” Ramirez said. “Here’s the bottom line: No clandestine operation, which is what we are, remains secret permanently. The enemy eventually discovers your existence. If we are to survive, we must have the support of the local community. That’s one of the primary concepts of guerrilla warfare. Without it, you’re dead. Period.”
“Then why the hell did we develop a cover story?” Samuel asked.
Ramirez spoke calmly. “It was a starting point and, as with all organizations, policies change to meet changing situations. Remember, we were going to bug-in initially to survive through the die-off. From what we know now, we’d have joined the dead in the die-off. We can strive to keep our operation a secret, but what happens when hundreds of desperate refugees or bad guys show up at two o’clock in the morning? Without community support, we and our families are dead.”