Speaker of the House, Thomas Wilson, said that the current administration is totally out of touch with the American people.
“The middle class is disappearing like a snowball in July,” the Speaker said.
He blamed the reckless spending of the White House for the condition of the economy.
“The buck stopped at the President’s desk, unfortunately it was now only worth .47 cents.”
***
DETROIT NEWS – RIOT IN THE STREETS
Rioting broke out today between protesters demanding higher wages to keep up with soaring inflation. The crowd was told to disperse since they had not applied for a permit. Police tried to block the protesters as they headed toward City Hall. Demonstrators rushed the barricades and forced the police line to be pushed back. A salient was opened and the police found themselves surrounded. Police in riot gear released tear gas and fired rubber bullets into the throng.
Many of the protesters were prepared and had brought gas masks with them. The clash lasted over six hours before they were finally forced to disperse. Eighty-one demonstrators were injured along with twenty-six police officers. Sixty-five protesters were arrested and booked into jail. Police Chief Oscar Maddox said that he was surprised at their organization and preparation. He estimated that over fifty percent had gas masks with them...
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Rain had been falling for two days. By Wednesday, nearly fifteen inches of rain had fallen and the weather forecast was not encouraging. Many people had been evacuated as the tropical depression continued to move along at a slow five miles per hour.
Thursday was even worse for many living along the Gulf Coast as not only the rain but wind became the enemy. Gusts up to sixty miles per hour were being recorded with a sustained wind speed of thirty miles per hour.
“We need to get those people out of there,” Police Chief Brandon said, indicating a trailer park that had water rising at an alarming rate. The creek behind the park was overflowing causing the rushing water to fill the low lying area.
“Some of them said they were not leaving,” a deputy yelled back, some of his words being carried away by the wind.
“We aren’t giving them a choice. Staying is not an option. Get a couple men and go evict them if necessary,” Brandon yelled back.
“What if they refuse?”
“Damn it, just do it. Arrest them if you have to. I don’t care, but get them out of there.”
The Captain looked at the sky and the rain seemed to be falling even harder if that was possible. A large gust of wind almost knocked him off his feet.
People are so dumb sometimes, he thought as he sloshed back to his car. The water was almost up to the bottom of the door. He climbed in and keyed the microphone.
“Victor two three, Victor one, do you copy?”
Static filled the line.
“Victor two three, over.”
“Yeah One, go ahead.”
“What’s your 10-20?”
“Southbridge Road and Franklin.”
“How is it looking?”
“Bad Captain. The water appears to be eating away at the cement pilings. Part of two of them has crumbled in areas.”
“Okay. Close the bridge. Don’t let anyone go across in either direction,” the Captain ordered.
“Captain, that’s gonna cause a lot of problems. Only one other bridge is open and it's over fifteen miles from here.”
“Yeah well, that’s the least of our worries. Just get it shut down.”
“Okay, if you say so.”
“I do.”
Geez, what a moron. Did he think that having the bridge collapse was an option? He looked out the window and saw one of his deputies wading through the water toward his car. He opened the door and water started to come in the car.
“Christ,” he said and got out, closing the car door quickly.
“Captain, one guy refuses to leave. He won’t even open the door. We would have to break it down to get him to come out.”
“Damn it Charley, you don’t give him a choice. Tell him...ah hell, I’ll handle this,” he said splashing through the water.
“Which trailer?” he asked.
“That one, nearest to the end of the street.”
“Oh hell yes. Of course it would be,” he said starting off once more.
Somehow rain had managed to find its way down into the neck of his rain coat, sending a torrent of cold water down his front and back. Great, just what he needed on top of everything else. He got to the house and went up the three steps. He banged on the door.
“Go away,” a muffled voice said through the door.
“This is Police Chief Brandon. Who am I talking to?”
“None of your damn business. Go away and leave me alone.”
“We can’t do that sir. We need you to come with us. We will keep your place safe while you are at the temporary shelter,” Brandon said.
“No way. Now get off my property.”
“Sir if you do not open this door we will break it down and arrest you. Now I’m tired of wasting time so open the damn door and let us take you to the shelter,” the Captain yelled.
Nothing happened and Brandon turned and looked at his deputy.
“Looks like we are going to have to drag his ass out. Go get the battering ram and let’s get this over with.”
A loud explosion filled the air as Captain Brandon went flying through the air and landed face down in the water. The deputy stood there in shock. The second shot caught the deputy in the face, knocking him down on his back. he water started turning red as the two lifeless bodies bobbed up and down in the current.
***
“Son of a bitch. You mean they are both dead?”
“Yes sir. The Captain took one in the back and Deputy Myers got it in the face.”
“And he is still in the trailer?”
“Yes sir.”
“Alright, I know it sucks but get the SWAT team in here ASAP. Let them know we have two officers down, that should get them to respond no matter what they are doing,” Kenny Feel, the assistant police chief said.
“They are already on their way. I called them as soon as I found out what happened.”
“Good. Good job. Okay, let me know when they arrive.”
“They should be here any minute now.”
Just as he was finishing up his sentence, two heavily armored vehicles came splashing through the deep water. They no sooner had stopped when twelve men jumped out. All carried automatic assault weapons. One of the men broke off and walked over to the assistant police chief.
“You in charge?” he asked.
“I am now.”
“Show me the house,” he said.
“That one right there. Next to the last on the right hand side.”
“Yeah, the one with the holes in the door. I should have figured that out for myself. Okay, here is the drill. We will try to get him to come out but if at some point we feel there is a danger to ourselves or others we will go in and get him one way or the other. Are you ready to turn command over to me?”
“It’s all yours.”
He nodded and went back to his men. A few minutes later they were carefully making their way toward the mobile home.
Kenny sat in his car with the window down and water splashing in. He could hear the leader using a bullhorn to talk to the man inside. It was impossible to hear the other end of the conversation.
Two shots in quick succession came from the trailer. Immediately weapons on full automatic opened up on the trailer. Windows were blown out and hundreds of bullet holes peppered the side of the trailer. Just as fast as it had started, it ended. It was strangely quiet. Even the wind seemed to have died down.
“Come out with your hands up or we will open fire again,” the voice drifted across the water.
Nothing happened and the leader repeated it once again. Still nothing. Feel watched as one officer slid alongside of the trailer and lobbed a grenade through the blown
out window. A loud ‘BOOM’ resonated and he watched as men rushed the home. Then it was all quiet again. They had obviously killed or wounded the man in the trailer. A few minutes later they emerged. One man had what looked like a 12 gauge pump shotgun.
Feel just shook his head. What a stupid thing to die for and he had lost the Captain and a good deputy. Over what?
***
The assistant police chief sat across the table from the SWAT team leader.
“You’re telling me that he said he would rather die than give up his right to protect his home?”
“Hey, that’s what he shouted. He said he had the right to defend his property. That the Constitution gave him that right.”
“Is he nuts or what?”
“I don’t think so. I think he truly believed that he had the right to determine if he should leave or not. He saw being forced to move as an infringement on his personal freedom. In some ways he was right. He stepped over the line when he shot the Captain and deputy.”
“You think we should have just left him there?” Feel asked.
“Not my call but I guess since you’re asking, yeah. If he wanted to stay what did it really matter? Even if he died in that crappy trailer, it would have been his choice. No matter how you look at it, he ended up dead.”
“Jesus, we can’t let people do whatever they want,” Feel said.
“That’s true if it is violating other people's rights or is a danger to the public in general but that wasn’t happening here. In my mind he had the right to stay if he wanted too. He knew the dangers and was willing to accept them. Like I said, it wasn’t until he crossed the line and shot someone that he went too far.”
“And you don’t think he was crazy to risk his life like that?”
“Determined yes, crazy, no. He should have been left alone in my opinion,” the SWAT team leader said and stood up.
“Would you have resisted?” Feel asked.
“My home and my family are mine. I would not take kindly to someone trying to tell me what was best for me. I am capable of making that decision. Would I resist? You can count on it,” he said and was gone.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Brigadier General Alan “Mac” MacMillan had started to think about retirement. After nearly thirty years in the Marine Corp, he knew he was pretty much stuck in his current pay grade. It wasn’t the one hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars a year that was bugging him. He knew that unless the US had a major war he would never make O-8, Major General. He was always going to be a baby-G. He was going to have to settle for just one star. His father had been a three star Lieutenant General.
He picked up the phone and dialed.
“Major General Warren’s office, how may I help you?” a soft voice said over the phone.
“Tell that old man that his worst nightmare is on the line?”
“Sir?”
“Just give him the message,” Mac said.
A few seconds later a gruff voice said, “This had better not be who I think it is.”
“What if it is?”
“Then I’d have to meet you at the obstacle course and kick your butt.”
“In your dreams buddy. So what’s shaken?”
“Same ole, same ole, different day.”
“You got that right. Look, I was wondering if we could get together soon.”
“Shit. I don’t like the sound of that. Last time we just got together we had to go talk to General Larkin. You do remember the ass chewing we got, right?”
“Oh hell, that was a long time ago. He has forgotten about that by now.”
“That was six months ago you boob. You getting Alzheimer’s?”
“Only when it suits me.”
“Okay, what's wrong? Really.”
“I didn’t say anything was wrong. I just felt like talking to you.”
“Uh huh. Give buddy. I ain’t buying it.”
“Honestly, I would rather not discuss it over the phone.”
“Hang on a minute, let me pull up my schedule.”
Mac listened to the noise in the background and could hear Ed Warren yelling for someone to get the damn schedule up on his computer. The man was pathetic when it came to computers. Finally he came back on the line.
“How about next Tuesday?”
“That would be great.”
“Where do you want to meet?”
“Off base. How about the Dockside Restaurant in Port Royal?”
“That will do. You can even buy.”
“What a guy. 11:30 hours okay?”
“See you there and quit worrying so much. Now I’m going to be spooked for the rest of the week,” Warren said as he hung up.
“If you’re worried now, wait until we meet,” Mac said into the dead phone.
***
WASHINGTON POST – June 23
A crowd estimated to be over 300,000 demonstrated around the reflecting pool at Washington Mall. Chants of “Impeach Quasim” and “Do Your Job” were shouted. Police kept most of the demonstrators confined to the Mall area but at one point a large group broke through the barriers and started toward the White House. Tear gas was used but did not slow down the onrushing crowd. Police fired rubber bullets and bean bags at the demonstrators. One demonstrator was killed when a DCPD officer swung his baton at and struck twenty-nine year old Dennis Canton in the back of the head. Fifty-one others were treated for minor injuries.
Captain Brisko said “My officers acted in accordance with current policy.”
When asked about the victim, he would only say, “No comment.”
The protesters have a valid permit to demonstrate again tomorrow. Captain Brisko said that his men "would be ready.”
***
“What the hell is going on?” the President asked.
“Frustration. Inflation is out of control. The consumer price index is up; gas prices just topped $6.95 in some parts of the country. They want results.”
“This is exactly why we have to disarm the general population. Until we get this economy turned around we are sitting on a powder keg.”
“Mr. President, may I speak freely.”
“Meaning?”
“I have a question that is eating at me,” Kendra Cox, the White House Press Secretary said.
“Yes. Go on.”
“How much is Operation Clean Sweep going to cost?”
“How much?”
“Yes sir.”
“I don’t know. Whatever it takes.”
“Ten million? Twenty million, a hundred million? Over a billion?”
“Kendra I said I don’t know. If I had to guess I would say around one and a half billion. Why is that important?”
“Well people are losing their jobs, houses are being foreclosed on, people can hardly afford to drive their cars. A billion and a half pumped back into small business would seem like a better use of the money,” she said.
The President looked at her for several seconds,” and then laughed. “I get it. Save a billion here and a billion there and pretty soon you’re talking about some real money. Is that it?”
“Honestly, that’s pretty much it. We are spending money on the wrong things.”
“Kendra, you have no idea what the big picture looks like. I think it would be best if you just did your job and I did mine,” he said.
“Yes sir,” Kendra said. 'If you were doing your job people in the streets wouldn’t be calling for your impeachment’, she thought.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Bob Tonner looked at the stack of messages that had piled up on his desk. ‘What the hell have I gotten myself into?’ he wondered as he sorted through them.
After the last meeting it was decided that the militia leaders would contact as many other militia groups as possible and hold regional meetings. There was no way they could bring them all together without setting off alarm bells all the way back to Washington.
He didn’t recognize ninety percent of the names on the messages. The ones he did recognize
he put in one pile, the rest went into a separate stack.
“Calvin Gains.”
“Calvin. Bob Tonner here. I was returning your call.”
“Thanks. I don’t remember if we covered gun clubs like yours at the last meeting.”
“We talked it about it briefly but most felt it was a pretty risky move. A lot of gun clubs let the police, sheriff’s departments and even SWAT teams use their ranges. That could cause a potential problem. We left it up to each leader to make his own determination about contacting them,” Bob told him.
“Yeah. I can see the problem. We have a gun club just down the road but the State Police have a range so the other cops use their facility.”
“So you’re going to contact them?”
“I think I’ll talk to the club president and feel him out.”
“That sounds like a wise decision. I think I would do the same.”
“Do the police use your club?”
“No way. Early on they did but they started hogging it and leaving a mess for us to clean up. We told them they would have to go someplace else. They built their own a few miles north of us.”
“Okay. Thanks. I’ll pass that information on to the other guys and tell them the same thing. I think clubs that have the police using the range may be something we want to skip.”
“I totally agree.”
“Thanks again Bob.”
“Anytime you need something just give me a shout,” Bob said as he closed his cell phone.
As soon as he hung up he thought about the conversation. If anyone grabbed it out of the air it could cause a lot of questions to be asked. He decided that he would purchase a couple throw-away cell phones for calls like that.
Bob walked over to the refrigerator and took out a cold bottle of water. He had just unscrewed the cap when his phone went off again.
“Bob Tonner.”
“Mr. Tonner. 1093 dash 3486,” the voice said and was gone.
It was his contact with the inside information. He knew it was extremely important by the 10 in the first set of numbers. Ten being the most urgent. He quickly got out his code book and checked the message.
A NATION DIVIDED - THE SECOND CIVIL WAR (The Second Civil War - BOOK I 1) Page 7