Liberty or Tyranny

by John Grit

  “Yep.” After scanning the front yard, he put his binoculars away. “But if they had taken prisoners from the farm, they would’ve learned we hadn’t been in the area in a long time. In that case, they probably would’ve been searching at our farm, perhaps Mel’s bunker. No, they were searching for Mrs. MacKay’s people. Besides, most of the vehicles are gone. I’d say they left before the soldiers got here.”

  “So,” Deni said, “it’s probably safe to assume everyone on the farm got away, at least for now.”

  Nate nodded. “Either way, it’s too late to warn them.”

  A reassuring thought lit Deni’s face. “It’s almost a sure thing they were warned. And if they were it must have been Colonel Donovan.” She appeared to be in a better mood than she should be under the circumstances. “Nice to know you can still trust a friend. Doing the right thing may cost him.”

  Nate nodded. “Yeah.”

  Something on his face prompted Deni to ask, “What?”

  “Donovan can only go so far. Once he does, his usefulness to us or anyone else will be over. This may be the last time he can help us. In fact, he may be already relieved of duty and under arrest. Those in power aren’t completely stupid. They’ve already figured out that someone warned Mrs. MacKay’s people.”

  Keeping low, they backed away from the farm and started their journey to return to the others.

  ~~~

  Colonel Donovan had not left his office all night. The only sleep he managed was two hours of lying on a blanket on the cold hard floor. He paced back and forth in the small room, waiting for the next report from Captain Cleef and praying his soldiers would not find the civilians they were looking for. This entire operation is bullshit. Nate and the others have committed no crimes. He stopped pacing his office. They get them, I’m next. All to keep corrupt politics undercover. How many more people are going to die?

  Realizing his predicament, he collapsed into the chair behind his desk. He was willing to die for the people of Glenwood and his friends, but he had no idea how he could help them. He feared what little power he had to change things would soon be taken away. He felt cornered. And when a man like him is cornered, he becomes dangerous.

  Send a protest up the chain of command? He cast his eyes around the room, but he was looking inward. What good will that do? The orders came straight from the Pentagon. And they got their orders straight from the president. A thought came to him that lived and died within the span of a millisecond. Stage some kind of a revolt? How many soldiers will follow me? He shook his head. Don’t go crazy. We have enough bat shit blowing in the wind as it is.

  Capt. Cleef’s voice came over the radio speaker. “We found six of them, all adults. They refuse to tell us where the others are. They did tell us they haven’t seen our fugitives in weeks. They say the last they heard, the ones we are hunting were still in Glenwood.”

  Donovan’s face turned white. His last hope, the small chance that they would not find any of Mrs. MacKay’s people, just vanished into thin air. “Do not harm any of them. They’re not wanted for anything. They’re American citizens.”

  Capt. Cleef responded, “Yes, sir. We’ve been through that already. None of them have been harmed. They surrendered peacefully.”

  “Keep it that way. Remember, it’s their right not to talk to us.”

  “Yes sir. We will hold them and continue to search for the others.”

  The two Army officers signed off.

  Sergeant First Class (SFC) Quint Bartow could hear the conversation from his desk outside. Agitated by what he heard, he entered the office. “Excuse my bluntness, but what the hell is going on, sir? This looks like déjà vu all over again.”

  Donovan raised an eyebrow and looked across his desk at Bartow. “It is, but this time the nut’s in the White House, and he’s more crazy like a fox than anything else. It’s a long story, but the gist of it is the president wants total control. Right now food is power, and that means he wants control over all food supplies in the country. He’s obviously worried about the large farm the people of Glenwood have been working on. He doesn’t want anyone to be able to feed themselves. He wants them reliant on government. The idea is to keep them hungry, while maintaining control of all food production, so he can hand it out a little at a time and keep the people compliant. Most people don’t even know we have a new president, because they didn’t elect him. In fact, most people outside of the Northeast don’t even know we had an election. His tenure in power is tenuous and bound to come to a screeching halt as soon as the rest of the country understands what’s happened and demands a real election. One that includes all 50 states and every eligible voter. If he doesn’t consolidate his power soon, he’ll be kicked out of office before the end of the year. He’s desperate. And a desperate tyrant is the most dangerous kind.”

  Bartow stood erect; though it was obvious Donovan didn’t expect him to be so formal. “You mean the president is a ruthless son of a bitch politician willing to do anything to gain more power, sir.”

  A light flashed behind Donovan’s eyes. “Yes, that’s exactly what I mean. It’s possible more civilian innocents are going to be harmed before nightfall today. A team of Black Ops types flew in last night and immediately joined the search. They wouldn’t talk to me, directing all questions to the Pentagon. Other than giving me a little deference to my rank, they pretty much told me to go play with myself. I suspect they’re CIA. Whatever they are, they’re spooks and not regular military. We can’t allow them to get their hands on those civilians. If they do, there’s no telling how far they’ll go to get information.”

  Bartow swallowed. His face grew grim. “Sir, my allegiance is to the American people and the Constitution of the United States of America. And I don’t give a damn about some fake tinhorn would-be dictator in Washington.” He cleared his throat. “In case you didn’t already know what side I’m on. Because it looks like things are going to get bloody in this country and people are going to have to decide what kind of Americans they are. I know you, Colonel, and I know what side you’re on. Now you know what side I’m on.” He saluted and left the office.

  Surprised but not shocked, Donovan’s mind raced. At that moment, he began to rethink his entire life. A cold realization of what he and the American people faced settled into his stomach and weighed him down. A civil war? Oh God, how much more do the people have to suffer? He resolved to do what he could to head off the looming tragedy and prayed there were people in much higher positions than him already working on the problem. But he could not wait on others to help Mrs. MacKay and her little group of survivors. The local problem had to be dealt with immediately, and as for the bigger problem of Washington, he would need help from people with a lot more power than him. But who could he trust? He could be executed for treason if things went bad.

  ~~~

  General Carl Strovenov watched the scene of apocalyptic atrocities race by the window of his armored limousine. Even after so many months, over a year, he found it almost impossible to believe that Washington DC, the capital of America, could appear as squalid, violent, and lawless as any third-world country, worse in fact. His vehicle was the third in a convoy of five. The other vehicles were all armored-up Humvees except for the leading vehicle, which was an armored personnel carrier. The APC was armed with two .50 caliber Browning machine guns on the top, mounted in tandem and electrically controlled. Sweeping the streets of Washington with machine-gun fire had become a necessary and frequent event. There were times government officials couldn’t get from their office to the White House without resorting to such drastic measures. As they raced down the streets, the more peaceful citizens held up crudely hand-painted signs that said things like ‘We’re starving Mister President. Where is the food?’

  The entire city smelled of sewage. The system hadn’t worked since the first wave of death came, brought by the plague from across the sea. Rotting bodies swarming with flies littered the sidewalks and even the streets, flattened by governme
nt vehicles like road-killed stray dogs. Most government officials had become almost complacent to the horrors, but not the smell.

  The worst of it was he knew that every major city in America was in just as bad a condition, if not worse. It didn’t have to be so bad. Damn it. He shook his head. Not this long. We should be much further down the road to recovery by now.

  Thinking back on the plague, he shuddered. The first responders were wiped out almost immediately, leaving America with almost no law enforcement officers, very few firefighters and paramedics. And then the nurses and doctors began to fall to the disease. He shuddered again. The damn plague almost wiped out the entire medical profession. Imagine, if every doctor, nurse, pathologist, pharmacist, and everyone else trained in the field of medicine had died! That was close. Damn close. It would’ve taken 20 years to train medical professionals. No, who would train them? What schools of medicine would they go to, and who would train the trainers? As bad as it was, it could have been worse. What few medical professionals were left alive were worth 10 times their weight in gold to the American people and the country. Just about every other technical field also clung to a thin thread, dangling over a black void, the know-how and technology on the verge of being lost for a generation, if not forever.

  But the aftermath, all of this time wasted, all of those who died in the violence and famine; that is on those in governmental positions of power and responsibility. He swallowed and looked inward. We in the military are not without blame. We let Washington handle things and make most of the decisions. We turned a blind eye to what we knew was happening. We saw the takeover, the fake elections, the dismantling of constitutional limitations on federal government, and we stepped aside and let it happen. Like good military officers, we stayed in our place and took our orders from the civilian government. Fear of violating our oath as military officers by stepping in and interfering with civilian governance of the United States of America meant that we violated our oath to support and defend the Constitution of the United States. In the end, we are just as guilty as if we had violated our oath in the first place, and if we had, hundreds of thousands of Americans would still be alive today. We are damned for not acting. And if we had acted, we would still be damned.

  In the back of his mind that same constant ache ate at him, because he knew if the military had acted it may have saved a lot of lives and brought America much further down the road to recovery, but on the other hand he also knew that military coups seldom if ever resulted in more freedom and stability. You just could not trust one general or a group of generals with absolute power. The trouble was, they had a new president who was reaching his goal of absolute power, and the results were likely to be even worse than a military coup. For this man had no honor, no compassion, no humanity.

  The APC slowed and hooked a right turn, where the driver was confronted with an instant decision of whether to drive on and run over a group of men in the middle of the road or stop. Six or seven skinny, filthy young men from 15 to 25 years of age were in the process of raping an equally emaciated and filthy teenage girl. In most cases, the driver would have just run them over, but he knew the general would be angry, so this time he swerved around to the right and passed them.

  As the limo went by, the general saw what was happening. He yelled to his driver to radio the APC to stop. He reached for an M4 and opened the door of the limo. Immediately, the driver and his bodyguards protested loudly. He did not hear them. Already out of the limo, he aimed and released a 10-round burst. Two rapists remained unscathed and tried to run, but he cut them down before they got 10 yards. The girl lay on the asphalt crying, looking at him in dismay.

  Carl Strovenov, General of the Army and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, reached inside to his seat and grabbed a bag that was going to be his next meal. Soldiers swarmed around him, their weapons trained outward, scanning the area for danger, as he walked up to the girl and handed her the bag. “Here is some food. I’m sorry I can’t do more for you.” He gritted his teeth and walked back to the limo, sliding in and closing the door behind him.

  The girl took the bag and ran down the street.

  Carl Strovenov put the smoking M4 down on the seat beside him and wiped his face. He kept his head down and refused to look out the window all the way to the White House. We could’ve had law and order by now. We could’ve had them fed by now. Fed two or three times a day, 365 days a year. So much time wasted. So many lives wasted. If only the government itself had survived the plague somewhat intact, if the president and a few more Senators and Congressmen had survived, things would’ve been different. He shook his head and closed his eyes, pressing moisture from them, causing a rivulet to flow down each side of his weathered and strained face. And this faux president. The SOB’s evil. He hides it, but his actions reveal his true heart. People are expendable to him. He loves only power.

  He reached into a pocket and produced a photo of his late wife and two sons. Both sons were in their 20s and in uniform at the time the photo was taken, recent graduates of West Point. Other than memories, the photo was all he had left of his family.

  Chapter 10

  On entering the White House, General Strovenov was searched way beyond normal procedures, in fact he was nearly disrobed. I know the president doesn’t trust me. You bastards don’t have to light up a neon sign. “Are you through?”

  “Yes we are, General,” the Secret Service agent answered. “Sorry for the inconvenience.” He waved him on past the security station.

  An aide to the president escorted the general to the Oval Office, where the president waited behind his desk.

  President Capinos stood. “Thank you for coming so quickly, Carl. There is a situation down in Florida that I think you should be brought up to date on.”

  Strovenov sat down, laying his thin folder on his lap. It contained information he had gathered and wanted to show the president. For months, he had been trying to persuade Capinos to concentrate on two things: providing protection for the citizens from the criminal element, and helping the people produce their own food. He believed that all they needed was technical know-how, some equipment, and if allowed to farm fertile land close enough to their homes that they could walk there without any need of motorized vehicles, they could learn to feed themselves. This would allow them to not only farm the land but to get the produce to the people who needed it, and all without burning any more scarce fuel than needed for the farming equipment.

  So far, his efforts had been in vain. In fact, the president had grown ever more angry whenever the general brought the subject up. He intended to try harder this time, even if he had to throw out protocol and insist, even be rude, more than that, dare to accuse the president of actually wanting the American people to starve and be at the mercy of violent criminals in the streets. Yes, such a thing would be insane, but he was more convinced each day that the president wasn’t playing with a full deck of cards. Certainly, you would find more humanity in a block of marble stone.

  Capinos immediately threw a monkey wrench into the general’s plans.

  “Carl, we have a lieutenant colonel in North Florida who is giving us problems. He’s reluctant to follow orders and continuously restrains his men from performing their duties. I want him relieved of command and put up on charges.”

  Though Strovenov tried to conceal his reaction, he was not entirely successful. “I don’t believe I’ve ever heard of a president being directly involved in the discipline of Army officers below the rank of general. If there is a problem with any officer, it will be dealt with. I’ll look into it.”

  Capinos leaned over his desk and glared at the general. “Not good enough, Carl. I want action today.”

  The general stared back. “So far, all you’ve given me are vague statements and accusations. Reluctance to follow orders? What orders? Was the order immoral or illegal, such as to slaughter half of a town? I have to look into this and see what the hell is going on before I have any officer relieved of duty
and charged with a crime. You say put him up on charges, what charges? Anything I can think of, just to get rid of him?” His face turned red. “I don’t work that way. I refuse to ruin a man’s life without good cause. Exactly what crime has he committed?”

  Capinos looked him up and down, disgust in his eyes. “For one thing, I have reason to believe he tipped off enemies of the state. He told them they were about to be arrested, and gave them a chance to get away. We’re searching for them now. But that would not have been necessary if he had not tipped them off.”

  The general coughed. “This sounds like another one of your witch hunts to me. I’ll have this investigated.” He tried to relax in his chair and regain control of his emotions. His stomach felt like a boiling bowl of acidic bile, and a severe case of heartburn was adding to his burning fuse that was growing shorter by the second. “Exactly what do you mean when you say he’s overly restraining his soldiers?”

  “He coddles the indigenous people of the area and insists his soldiers do the same.”

  Strovenov’s eyes flashed something undecipherable for a millisecond. “Must you insist on vagueness and indirect, meaningless answers when I ask you a question? I cannot charge him with coddling the American people. There is no such crime. I cannot charge him with instructing his soldiers not to commit atrocities, if that is what you’re referring to. Again, there is no such crime. On the contrary, if he had instructed his soldiers to murder American citizens or abuse them in any way, he would be guilty of a crime. Even if he had simply looked the other way and allowed it tacitly and without any spoken or written orders given, he would be guilty of a crime. But you seem to be complaining that he has done exactly what he was supposed to do. So far, it sounds to me that we have a good officer down there. As to the other charge of tipping off fugitives – some group of people you call enemies of the state – as I said, I’ll look into that.”

  Capinos jumped to his feet. “You’re treading close to insubordination yourself!”