by Ross Elder
PATRIOT DECEPTION
By Ross Elder
Copyright © 2017 by Ross Elder
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator.”
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Acknowledgments
Although this is a work of fiction, it was inspired by a real investigation. On my website Ross-Elder.com, you will find a series of articles titled The Patriot Deception. The research conducted for the purpose of those articles is what led to this novel. In 2014, I researched and wrote about alternative media. I was not searching for originating sources but simply trying to explain how conspiracy theories and fake news manipulated right-wing elements in the United States.
During that time, I was contacted by a retired Special Forces Intelligence Sergeant, Loren Schofield. His own observations had brought him to the conclusion that much of this manipulation was part of Russian Active Measures, a system of propaganda and manipulation aimed at the target population. Loren asked if I could look into his suspicions and either confirm, or refute them. If it weren’t for Loren’s suggestion, none of the Patriot Deception, novel or nonfiction, would have happened.
Numerous former and active members of the intelligence community offered insights and encouragements during this research. They choose to remain anonymous.
To my colleagues, themselves accomplished authors, who encouraged me to keep writing and offered their criticism along the way, thank you. A few actively assisted in keeping me on track during this project and went far beyond the call of duty on my behalf. Although you choose to remain in the background, I will never forget the help you provided. Your fountain of knowledge was vital to this project.
My editor for this project was Patricia Wilson. Thank you, Patricia, for your speedy work and assistance.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Author’s Note
The Fireman
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Books by Ross Elder
About the Author
Chapter One
Darkness. There is only darkness. I'm floating. In water, or the sky, I do not know but, for a time, an unknown time, there is only the darkness. There is a sound now. I think it is a sound. Screaming, perhaps, or the squealing of steel on steel. It's growing louder with every second. Louder and louder until only the sound fills me. Darkness and the sound are all I know in my universe. The darkness and sound are urging me ever forward toward something. Toward what? Why do I need to move if there is only me floating in darkness?
There! I see it! A cloud. A mist. Only a suggestion of movement. I am still in darkness but now there are hints of illumination; shadows dancing in front of me. The sound is still increasing. The sound I cannot identify is becoming painful. It is blotting out all other sensations. But, what sensations are there? What am I? Why am I here?
I think I should have a face. I think I have appendages; arms and legs. Am I human? Yes. Yes, I am human. I think. Now darkness and silence again. I am grateful for the silence. I fear the sound. With the sound comes pain and I know I do not like pain. I must be a blind thing. A blind person, perhaps. Perhaps not human. But what then? An animal? A fish? Are there blind fish? Yes, I think there are such creatures; fish residing in the great depths of the ocean, far removed from the sun and light. They survive. I must survive. Like a fish or a human, I must continue. I must keep moving forward.
There's another flash! A shadow. I saw it. I did. I am not blind. At least not completely. A vapor appeared before me and drifted away so I am not blind. I smell earth. I know the scent of earth because...because why? How do I know of earth and its scent? So, not a fish, then. The sound has returned and with it new sensations. Pain. More pain than the sound alone. My...the part of me that is aware, whatever it is called, hurts. Immense pain layered atop the agony of the sound. Keep moving! I must keep moving, but I don't know if I’m moving. I think I am. I'm feeling. As with my hands and fingers, I'm feeling. I have hands! With hands, I can grab and pull and push. With hands, I can move. I must move. I must keep moving or begin moving. I'm unsure of which but the urge to move, to survive, is my only understanding.
Again, the darkness is upon me. I am embraced by its warmth and the pain, and the sounds are gone. Flashes are interrupting my peace now. What is that? Flames? Explosions? Are they inside my...the part that is aware, or are they beyond me in the distance? I'm so confused. The flames are brighter now. Something is there within the inferno. A face? No. Many faces? Are these humans, like me? Are they immune to the flames? Am I? I am stricken by fear as I look upon them, their contorted expressions ugly and frightful to me. They are not immune. They burn. Am I? Do I burn? Somehow, I know this is not real. This is not this moment, and I am not within the flames with the burned faces. Then why do I see it? How do I see that which is not there? Am I God? Do I see all things? Know all things?
No. This can't be the truth of it. If I knew all things and saw all things I would know who and what I am. Yet, I do not. I am not God. I do not burn, yet I am not God. I understand pain now. I am a man, and I have pain. So much pain. How can a man know so much pain and not surrender; not offer himself to his God for one simple gift, peace? If I am not God, then where could God be? Why is it not taking me from this place? This is hell! I know it must be hell for hell is the very absence of God. The cutting off from God's grace from the condemned. Oh God. I am in hell with flames filled with the faces of the damned, and I suffer. I suffer more than I can...remember. I don't remember feeling pain. I learn of it now as it ebbs and flows through my being. It is new, this pain, but I must have known pain before. Mustn't I? How else would I know what this is? It's gone. The pain is gone, and I am again in the darkness. Is this God; the darkness? It brings me peace and soothes me. Is it? Is this God saving me from Lucifer’s hell? Am I to be saved and restored to God’s grace? I no longer fear the darkness but welcome it. I don't want it to go.
No, please! Leave me here in the warm embrace of nothing. Please. No
. Move. Keep moving! You must survive. You must. If you surrender to the darkness, you will not survive. Others will not survive. Others? There are others like me? Those trapped in the limbo between heaven and hell? No. Not that. Others, but not others here with me. I am alone. I am the sole occupant of this ethereal existence; the plaything of gods. I must escape. I must. The sound has returned and with it a new sensation: voices. I hear voices, but I do not understand them. The screaming and squealing may be preventing me from understanding. Or, maybe I just don't understand? Is this my language? If so, why can't I understand? My God, the pain! Everything that I am is pain.
The voices have shadows now. They are reaching for me. They are trying to take me. No! No, Lucifer, you will not have me! I will not be dragged to the flames again. Release me! I cannot fight them. I am too weak, and my arms will not obey me. They have me now. This is the end. An eternity of torment and pain is my judgment. However, I have offended thee, Lord, please forgive this wretched soul. I understand. I am unworthy. I have fallen far too short to partake in the kingdom of heaven. I'm sorry. I accept your judgment.
Screaming and wailing fill my mind as I am dragged to...to...something. Flashing lights and...water. Water upon my face. Am I a fish? No, not submerged but sprayed. Droplets crashing against...yes, a face. My face. The demons have form now. They are gray and slim. Impossibly slender. Their eyes are magnificent and large, reflecting all that is before them. Is that me in there? Please, come closer! I need to see myself within those dark plates. Again, I surrender. I have no choice. I am a prisoner of whatever beings have seized me. I am too weak. I am too injured to resist. I'm injured. I know that now. Badly. I am human, and I'm injured badly. Perhaps neither God nor Lucifer will accept damaged goods? Have they given me up to yet another force I do not understand? They are poking me with sharp instruments and pushing and pulling on my limbs, head, and chest. They're killing me. No! Stop it! Stop hurting me, you monster? Leave me alone! Without warning or understanding, my right arm appeared in my mind. It lashed out at the creatures, slashing, pounding, and grabbing. The creature nearest me fell against the others and a fine spray of glowing, yellowish mist filled the confined space. The others lunged for me, pressing their grotesque figures down onto me, holding me in place for their next diabolical experiment. Now the darkness came. Blessed darkness.
Chapter Two
The sound, that dreaded sound, pulls me from the darkness. I try to move but to no avail. I'm paralyzed. No, I can feel my limbs, and I feel my muscles straining to operate them, but they fail. I open my eyes, and I see only shadows for a moment. Then images appear--a grid pattern. There are beings there with me, down near my feet, hovering, chanting, or chattering. There was a room at first, but it has now fallen away, dissolved into vapor.
My arms and legs are in agony, and the screams inside my head are deafening. My god, more pain, a new pain, in my side. I’ve been pierced. Pierced through the ribs by a spear or other blade. This is the death blow; the finality of my miserable existence. The blade lodged between my ribs is turned, and the pain is too much to bear. I cry out, and the darkness returns.
I have been here in the darkness for what seems an eternity, or only a moment in time. The sound comes and goes attempting to take me but something prevents its grip. I am protected here. By something, or someone, I am protected from the pain and the sound. I am just…drifting. Flying, perhaps, I do not know. With no reference to a sky or a ground, I can only feel the sensation of falling and then soaring upward again as though riding the winds of some far-off world. This is a strange world. I am a strange being. I don’t belong here, I know. I am not supposed to be here in the darkness, but I love it here. Something drives me to leave this place, but I am fighting it. I’m fighting the urge to surface and gasp for breath. Am I wrong about everything? Am I just a blind fish? It can’t be. I saw a part of myself. I’m not a fish. I am human.
There is a small cloud of light ahead as I sway side to side, swimming in the nothingness of my home. I circle it, studying its warm glow. It is beautiful, but I do not know what beautiful means in this world. It draws me to it. It doesn’t call out to me, but its gravity has caught me and is pulling me from my orbit. I’m struggling to swim or fly to peaceful freedom, but it is no use. It is too strong. I’m entering the light now, and I hear a voice calling to me. No, not calling to me. Yelling. Yelling at me, angrily.
“You will pick up your shit and keep moving! Get up. Now! Move! If you don’t move, you will die! You have to move to survive!”
I can form no words with which to argue, so I move. I move toward the light with my unseen wings beating a rhythm I have never heard. I reach it, and then I am inside of the light, or the light is within me, I don’t know, nor do I understand, but with the light comes more pain. Terrible pain. I balk and attempt to swim away, but it is too late. I have entered the light, and I cannot escape it.
The light, the sound, the pain. I cry out to an absent God.
Chapter Three
Date: Unknown
Even the dim glow of the reading lamp nearby was painful to my eyes. I didn’t want to open them, but I did. Pain shot through me. First, it was the stabbing within my eyes, and then, the pains throughout the rest of my body. I can’t move. I want to touch my face and feel the spear in my side, but my arms won’t obey me. Why can’t I move? I cry out again. Not words, really, but a groan of urgency. Someone steps toward me, and I stiffen, causing even more pain. It’s a man. He’s talking, but his words aren’t registering. I know he is speaking to me, but I can’t understand. I try to shake my head to clear my mind, but that too causes me great pain.
A word. I know a word he just spoke. Doctor. He said “doctor” and now he is rushing from the room, the door left open in his wake. The pain is unbearable. I’m crying out and thrashing against the weight on my arms and legs. There are two men now, the second smaller and older than the first. He’s talking now, and I am still unable to understand. I can see them, but it is as though they are at the bottom of a shallow pool of water, the ripples distorting their appearance. Again, water, but I am no fish.
The smaller man is close to me now, his face mere inches from my own. A bright light enters my eyes and stabs my brain. I want to kill him. I want to shove my fist into his face and… words, I can hear his words. I know the language, and I can hear him now. He’s speaking to me.
“Easy there, killer. I just need to check you out a little before we give you any more painkillers. Can you hear me? Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I could only nod because words refuse to exit my throat. My throat is so dry. I need water. Please, give me some water. I am a fish and I need water, or I will die. A croak floated from my mouth, and the man nodded at me. He’s urging me to drink from a straw he has placed on my lips. I do so, desperately. He’s very encouraging. He’s smiling at me.
“Take it slow. I know everything is disoriented now. You’ve just come out of a coma. It may take a while for you to adjust. Now, we need to do a few things. There are tubes and such we need to remove. It’s going to be unpleasant, but I’ll be able to give you something for the pain after that, okay?”
I think I am nodding, but I also wonder if he understands discomfort. I have just swum the river Styx and withstood the horrors of the sound. What more could a mere human do to me?
My screams bring more people to the room.
Chapter Four
Date: Unknown
I’ve been in and out of consciousness for some time now. This was a different experience. I was not sent back to the peaceful darkness, or the screaming faces in flames. I feel sad. This was sleep and drugged wakefulness. My face feels cool and wet, probably the circulating air against tears. I’m unsure. I think I remember crying, or crying out, in my sleep. The dreams were unpleasant. I struggled against God, trying to find my place in his realm and was rejected. I was swinging a sword into an onslaught, the bodies of my fallen foes creating a citadel upon which I stood. Terrible, horr
ible dreams.
I try to touch my cheek, but I am prevented. I look down and see the padded, leather restraint around my right wrist. My left wrist was similarly adorned. My ankles, though under the thin covers, must also be held because I can’t bend my knees much. My God, I’m a prisoner. Why am I here? What have I done? My heart is aching from the confusion. I cry out for help. Repeatedly, I scream.
When she enters, I calm, but only slightly. I’m trapped and I’m in pain, and I don’t know why I am here and I need her to tell me. Just tell me!
“Okay, okay. It’s all going to be okay. I was wondering when you were going to wake up.”
I pull against the restraints, pleading with her but only with my expression.
“Yeah, we had to put those on. I’m sorry. You got violent in your sleep, and we were afraid you would injure yourself. If you’re going to be awake for a while, I can take them off.”
I could nod my head, and I did so, rapidly. My heart is racing. Freedom. I will be set free. I need to move. I must keep moving. Run! Run as fast as you can. She freed my arms. They hurt, but I can move them. I touch my face and my neck. I can feel the bandages on the left side of my head and scabs over my face and neck. The scabs itch, and I rub them gingerly.
“How are you feeling?” It was a man’s voice. Someone I did not see enters the room. I looked toward the sound. It was the same man, the doctor, from before. I could only grunt in response, words still not forming in my mouth. “By the looks of you, I’d say you probably feel like shit.”
I nodded. I see a clear, plastic cup sitting on a cart next to the hospital bed and reach for it. My entire arm is shaking. My aim is off, and I miss the cup by at least four inches. I struggle and grunt, willing my hand to obey commands. I must slide my hand along the top of the cart to inch it toward the cup. The doctor and the woman just watch me. By the time, I touch the cup, I’m panting, but the success of it made me grin. But the fucking cup is empty.