Liberty or Tyranny

by John Grit

  Capinos suddenly became afflicted with a tic in the form of his left eye blinking uncontrollably. “Whose side are you on? We’ve been friends since Harvard.”

  Shekel continued. “Sorry friend, but that’s the way I see it. I’m trying to help you get past that six months we’ve been talking about. Once the military tries and fails, concentrate on production of food and providing the people with law and order. And by that, I mean protection from the criminal element, and not through oppression from government.” He looked Capinos in the eye. “You want to stay in power? You want to be known by historians as the man who led America through its darkest hour? Then do it. Lead them through this darkest hour. The path you’ve taken so far is the path to hell. Give them six or eight months of stability, safety, protection from violent criminals, six or eight months without hunger, without fear, without needless suffering and death, and you’ll win that special election in a landslide.”

  Capinos had a strange, half-smile on his face. He tilted his head and looked at Shekel as if he thought he were insane. “I had no idea you thought I was that damn stupid. Did you really think you could just pat me on the head and tell me I really could be a good little boy if I would just try?” He bit his upper lip and thought for ten seconds longer. “What you suggest would certainly buy me some time. That much I agree with. Go ahead and do what has to be done to blame the so-called atrocities in Florida on our wayward operatives. I’ll get with my cabinet and start doing some of the other things you suggested. If I can win an election six months from now, that’ll put me in a strong position to implement my other programs and solidify my power here in Washington. I’m sure that’s not what you really meant, but I still think it’s a good idea.” He rubbed his hands together and frowned, staring off into space. “Of course, it just may be the last election America ever has.”

  Shekel’s face became a blank slate. He nodded. “I think if you help the people feed themselves, provide them with protection, and respect the Constitution while you’re doing it, you will win that election.” He took two steps back from the president’s desk. “I’ve got work to do. The thing in Florida must be handled delicately and will require more resources. I’ll give you a report tomorrow evening on the progress.”

  “Good. You do that,” Capinos said. He sat behind his desk, leaned back, and stared at the ceiling, in deep thought.

  Shekel closed the door behind him and leaned against a wall. Maybe the country just took a step forward. Maybe. Six months. A lot of food can be produced and a lot of people can be fed in six months. After that, well, we’ll see.

  Chapter 14

  Kramer and Rittleman knew they would soon be hunted men. It didn’t dawn on them the charges would be massacring civilians and not disobeying orders and killing CIA operative Bo Lyndson. Lyndson was touted as the hero who tried to stop them from murdering civilians and was murdered by the crazed Kramer and Rittleman for his humanitarian efforts. They left the civilians and headed west, hoping to make it to the Gulf and catch a ride on a boat to Texas, where they both were from. In the back of their minds, they thought stealing a boat and enough fuel to get there was the most likely scenario, but there was a small chance they just might catch a ride on a sailing yacht. Whatever. They needed to get the hell out of the area.

  ~~~

  Brian smiled when he saw the limb shaking. Another big fish on the line. He had set a dozen brush hooks along a creek just before dark. Sunrise found him checking the lines, and he already had enough on his stringer to feed the crew for the day. A thought came to him that not long before, when he was only a boy, back a year or so ago, he would’ve enjoyed this fishing trip a lot more. But that was before the world became a dangerous place, where men hunted each other.

  He bent over to reach for the line when a sound in the woods alerted him. Squatting behind a cypress tree for several seconds, he scanned the wall of green. His ears had picked up something unnatural, but he had yet to decide exactly what or where it was. Dropping to one knee, he shouldered his carbine and waited. Ten yards past the far bank of the creek, a heavy boot crushed dry leaves. Clicking the safety off his carbine sounded loud to his ears, but he told himself no one could have heard it more than a few feet away. His heart rate jumped, and he struggled to control his breathing. Anyone walking that quiet out here is probably a soldier.

  For some reason, the eight-pound catfish decided to come to the surface and splash around while struggling against the hook and line. Shit! Brian pulled his head down lower and tried to stay as still as possible.

  The splashing of the fish grew louder. The woods became quiet, and Brian knew whoever was out there had heard the struggling fish and had stopped moving. Someone was doing the same thing he was: waiting and listening. He wished his father was there.

  The day’s catch, still on a stringer he had dropped only four feet away, flopped around on dry leaves. One three-pound channel cat seemed to be trying to make it to the creek’s edge but wasn’t about to drag all the others tied on the same string with it. The noise it was making was about to get Brian killed.

  Then Brian saw him, or at least his face. Like Brian, he wore a boonie hat. He could see part of the man’s right shoulder and could tell he was wearing a soldier’s uniform and had an M4 aimed in his general direction and ready to fire. He also knew the man had only an idea of where he was but had not seen him yet. Looking through the Aimpoint sight, it was an easy shot. But he couldn’t squeeze the trigger. He wasn’t sure yet. No matter how afraid he was, he wasn’t sure if he should kill this man. At that moment, the weight of all the men he had killed in the last year weighed on his shoulders and he couldn’t pull the trigger.

  Motion to his left and farther back from the creek caught his attention for a moment. Finding nothing, he turned his attention back to the man he had his sights on. He was gone. Something inside him turned up the volume on all of his senses. At that moment, he found himself more alive than he had ever been in his life, and he knew he was only seconds away from death.

  ~~~

  Standing guard over the camp, a sudden chill came over Deni. She looked downstream where she knew Brian was and wondered what was keeping him. Atticus and Tyrone were boiling water. They were running low from drinking so much with the evening meal the night before. She glanced over in their direction, but she was looking for Nate. When she finally saw him, he was on the edge of her vision and mostly obscured by brush. He had his load-bearing harness on, which contained most of his spare ammunition. In his hands, was his M14. She saw him nervously scanning the woods downstream.

  Without warning, a rifle shot cracked the cold air. Nate rushed to the fire and stamped it out. In a low voice, he warned Atticus and Tyrone, “Prepare to defend your life. I’m going after Brian.”

  The two men scrambled to their weapons in silence.

  Nate hand-signaled to Deni that he was going downstream to look for Brian.

  She nodded, her face ashen. Assuming he wanted her to come with him, she ran to catch up.

  After running 50 yards, Nate heard her running behind him and stopped. He started to tell her to stay with Atticus and Tyrone but changed his mind. The two men were friends, but Brian was his son. Being a trained soldier, Deni might make the difference between Brian living and dying. If it wasn’t already too late.

  Nate hand signaled for her to slow down and stay ten yards behind him. As much as he wanted to rush to help Brian, his training would not allow him to blunder into an ambush. Before they traveled another 50 yards, a second shot rang out and echoed in the trees. They pushed on, keeping low and staying as quiet as possible.

  A man’s clear voice came from back in the trees on the other side of the creek. “Stop shooting, boy. We mean you no harm.”

  Another rifle shot rang out.

  “Damn it. I told you we mean you no harm. Stop shooting and we’ll go our separate ways.”

  Nate moved in close enough he could see Brian taking refuge behind cover between two large cypress
trees and aiming his rifle at something or someone on the other side of the creek. He had also heard the man’s voice, which allowed him to locate his approximate position. What he didn’t know was how many men were out there and what their intentions were. The 40 seconds it took Nate to get Brian’s attention and signal for him to lay flat on the ground were long and torturous. After Brian’s two shots, chances were almost 100% that anyone out there in the woods knew just about exactly where Brian was, and Nate wanted him to get down as low as possible before he got shot.

  Deni directed most of her attention to the other side of the creek, where it seemed the danger was coming from. Bare aluminum on the soldier’s M4s where the finish had worn off caught a glint of sunlight, and she focused on that. Ten seconds later, her eyes had made out the partial form of a soldier, dressed and equipped for combat. The only part of the man she could see clearly was his left shoulder. She made that her target and aimed. Another ounce of trigger pull and the sear would release.

  The man she was aiming at yelled out, “Look damn it, don’t make us kill you. We’re not here to do you any harm. We’re just passing through this way.”

  Deni and Nate both recognized the voice immediately. It was Henry Kramer, the CIA operative.

  Nate yelled out, “If you’re not here to kill us, show yourself. Come out and stand in the open. We won’t shoot.”

  Brian lifted his head up to try to see. Nate yelled, “Get down!”

  A shot rang out. A bullet plowed into one of the trees Brian was hiding behind. Nate and Deni both noticed the shot didn’t come from Kramer.

  “To hell with this,” Deni muttered under her breath. She tightened her aim on Kramer’s shoulder and squeezed the trigger. When Kramer spun around and landed on his back, disappearing behind brush, she knew she had hit him.

  Someone opened up on full auto, and the swamp roared with gunfire. Brian hugged the muddy ground and flattened himself as low as possible. Bullets flew over his head and chewed up the trees around him.

  Nate dropped to the rice paddy squat and fired three quick shots. He saw all three bullets connect, center mass on the man’s chest. Before the echo of gunfire rolled down the river swamp and faded out of hearing range, Nate had belly crawled to another position and was already aiming across the creek, searching for another target while looking over his sights. He had no idea what they were up against, but expected there to be a platoon of the soldiers out there. He had little hope they would survive the next five minutes.

  Five minutes passed in silence. No gunfire. No movement in the woods. Not a sound.

  Nate signaled for Deni to cover him. After getting Brian’s attention, he motioned for him to make his way back from the creek by staying as low to the ground as possible and behind cover at all times.

  Brian nodded and crawled away, inching along the ground.

  Nate and Deni covered him until he was 50 yards back and had enough trees between him and danger to stop any bullet and prevent those on the other side of the creek from seeing him.

  The three spent the next 15 minutes retreating quietly and making their way back to camp. They found Tyrone and Atticus had already packed everything and were ready to leave.

  Nate noticed Atticus and Tyrone both immediately looked for any sign of injuries on the three of them and seemed relieved when they found none. The relief was temporary, though, and they were obviously eager to get the hell out of Dodge. With Nate in the lead, they did just that.

  It was over an hour later when they stopped and formed a defense perimeter while taking a rest and a badly needed drink that Deni spoke up and told him that one of the men they had shot was the CIA operative Henry Kramer. “I know I hit him,” she said. “I saw him spin around and fall. The left shoulder was the only target I had available, so I doubt I killed him.”

  Brian’s face hardened. “Should’ve killed the bastard while we had the chance.”

  Nate removed the magazine from his rifle and pressed loose rounds into it to top it off. “Well, the other one’s dead for sure. As far as I can tell there were only two of them. But even a CIA team should be working with a reconnaissance team of three to six men. At any rate, we were lucky it wasn’t a platoon of regular soldiers.”

  Deni nodded. “They didn’t seem to be looking for trouble. The whole thing was strange. Remember what Kramer said to Brian?”

  Brian flinched. “I didn’t believe him. And if I’d recognized his voice I would’ve believed him even less. It’s not like I shot at them for fun.” He looked down, his breath coming in gasps. “How the hell am I supposed to know when a man comes at you with a gun, sneaking up on you in the woods, if he means to use it or not? Besides, Kramer was an asshole. We know people have suffered, probably died, because we let him go. We were weak. We were weak, and people died because of it.”

  Nate raised his voice, “Okay. Okay, damn it. No one here is blaming you for what happened. You did the right thing. Now stop blaming yourself. Don’t lose a moment of sleep over it. We’re the ones who shot them, not you.” Anger flared up on his face. “It’s what we have to live with right now, Brian. We’re all alive and unhurt. That’s all that matters in the end. The rest is a luxury only those who live in a civilized world can afford. The fact that it bothered you is proof you’re not becoming what you fear. Now let it go and forget it.”

  Deni pushed her boonie hat off her head and ran her fingers through top of her hair. “I agree with all of that. But if there were only two of them, Kramer’s back there wounded and alone. The question now is what do we do about that?”

  Atticus and Tyrone stopped scanning the woods for danger for a second and looked at the others.

  Brian cleared his throat. “It’s awful damn dangerous.”

  Nate looked up at the canopy of trees above them for a second. “Yes it is.”

  “It would be a damn stupid thing to do,” Brian added.

  Nate nodded and looked back in the direction they came from.

  “I’ll go.” Brian pressed loose rounds into his rifle magazine.

  Deni and Nate glanced at each other and smiled.

  Nate thought for a second. His chest rose and fell several times. The look on his face hardened and took on the sharp, cold edge of stone. “No. No one’s going back. Kramer knew what he was getting into when he signed up for his job. He’s probably already radioed for help. I go back there; I’ll be walking into a death trap. Hell, we don’t even know if there were only two of them. There could’ve been a dozen more moving in on us before we got the hell out of there. We may be a lot luckier than we even know. Just because only two of them shot and we only saw those two, doesn’t mean they were alone. I’m sure at first they thought Brian was alone, until Deni and I started shooting. Maybe they wanted to take him alive.”

  Brian reinserted his now full magazine. “Yeah. It’s not worth the risk. But I thought if someone was going to go it might as well be me. After all, I caused all of it.”

  “It just happened to be you who saw them first. You didn’t cause anything.” Deni put her canteen away and prepared to hit the trail again. “I think it’s time to start walking, guys.”

  Nate stood. “Yep. Let’s put miles under our feet before dark.”

  With everyone on edge, the slightest sound, a squirrel scurrying up a tree, or a tree branch falling on the leaf-carpeted swamp floor, resulted in everyone bracing to dive for cover, shouldering their weapons, scanning the woods for danger. Adding to their worries was the danger of death from the sky. All they could do was move as fast as possible through the woods without blundering into an ambush. At nightfall, they stopped to rest. Half stood guard while the others ate and then tried to get some sleep.

  ~~~

  Brigadier General Bernard Myers expected a call from his friend General Strovenov, so he wasn’t surprised when a call came in by Sat-Com. He pushed a button and leaned back in his chair before saying, “General Myers here.”

  “You won’t believe this,” Strovenov said, more
than a hint of glee in his voice. “For some unexplainable reason, the president has gotten an entirely new bug up his ass and has decided to give us a free hand in dealing with the famine and lawlessness. He promises Washington will be hands-off for six months.”

  General Myers sat up in his chair, a look of disbelief on his face. “What?”

  “He didn’t explain a damn thing, just handed me a letter giving all branches of the military, including the Guard and Coast Guard, full authority over the task of providing security for American civilians and ending the famine. We also have authority to take over oil wells and refineries during the six months period and any farmland we deem necessary to feed the people. Nothing in his letter or his spoken words in the Oval Office said a damn thing about what to do with those oil wells and refineries after the six months period is over or who to hand them over to.” He laughed. “But to hell with that. We have six months to feed millions of people and to protect them from the violent criminals that are now prowling the streets and countryside of this nation of ours. Thank God Almighty.”

  “Thank God is right,” Myers agreed. “Too damn late for tens of millions of Americans, but thank God nonetheless. Must’ve been that petition all the general officers signed.”

  Strovenov remained quiet for a few seconds. “I’m not sure why he did it. All I know is we have a hell of a lot of work to do and we need to get it done yesterday. The Joint Chiefs of Staff will be sending out a flurry of policy changes down the chain of command sometime tonight, and the resulting stream of orders from COs will probably continue on for days. You can tell the colonel in Florida his ass is off the hook for now. Tell him to roll up his sleeves and get busy serving the American people. That little CIA manhunt down there is off. Hunting season is closed. Tell him to expend his resources hunting down real criminals and leave the innocent civilians alone.”

  Meyers smiled. “Yes Sir! Unless there is something else, I would like to cut this conversation off now and get to work.”