by M. P. Lodi
“Charlotte's eyes were filled with tears and she had started to sniffle. She complained, 'I don't have any damned tissues. All of our planning and I forgot something to blow my nose with.'
“Joshua looked back into his scope. 'You didn't expect to be crying. These fuckers all deserve death for this. This is going to change everything in this country.'
“Charlotte sniffled in again. 'I want to shoot that one ass with that sign first. You see what it says?'
“You mean the tall red-haired guy with the sign saying something about God hates Fags and all American soldiers Are Going To Hell?’
“Then she said, 'That's the one. He waved it hard at the little girl and made her cry even harder. What the fuck is wrong with these pieces of dog shit to do this to children? We better get the signal soon. I want to take out at least twenty of these roaches myself.'”
Noah took in a deep breath before continuing.
“I was in Charlotte's head, and she thought about how the little girl and boy of the slain soldier cried and cowered away from the Westbranch Baptist roaches. She couldn’t stop thinking ‘How dare they disrespect the man's family and memory like this!?’
“The rage was just building in her more and more. She knew this was why I had chosen her to be on my team. She had spoken to me at length about my choices for my MP unit, and I had told her I only chose those who would do whatever was needed to keep each other safe. There was no room for politics in Afghanistan or in any war zone.
“She was thinking how the damned politicians brought us to this. It was them who betrayed all soldiers. It was them who now watched veterans with suspicion after they came home. It was this current administration who did the most against those who proudly served their nation. By actively doing all they could to deprive veterans of their right to bear arms, that was a signal to nearly all serving men and women. You know, not only do they disrespect military people on the ground, but if we come home, they make sure the VA hospitals treat us all like shit too. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers have died waiting for medical treatment in the US in just the last 5 years alone. Utterly pathetic is what it is.
“Every member of every branch knows what’s up. They knew then, and they know now. The only thing that makes since as a reason for the moves the government was making is that they’re planning to make a move on the Constitution itself very shortly. Charlotte, Joshua and nearly everyone we all know would fight to the death to prevent any dictatorship from forming in America.
“Anyway, so a bottle rocket streamed up into the air from a building a few blocks away, then a second and third, exploding in the sky. That was the signal to light them up.
“'That's it, here we go,' Charlotte said as her first round hit its target. Then another. And another. Joshua fired too. Mike left his cell phone on the roof of a car and screams could be heard everywhere. All the cops were on the ground looking around, trying to figure out what was happening. Shot after shot, it was a classic military ambush from three separate rooftops. Planned by yours truly and Charlotte. The silencers muffled the sounds enough so that people who were directly below the buildings where she and Joshua and the others shot from couldn't even hear them. The screaming continued, and Charlotte stopped shooting for a second to hit the phone, turning it off to stop the screams. Then she refocused her rifle and took a few more shots.
“Joshua started collecting the spent cartridges and said, 'That's enough. Between the five of us, at least 30 are dead. Let's get out of here. They’re waiting for us. We have less than sixty seconds before cops can be running down this street.'
“Charlotte grabbed for the cartridges and then crouched down with Joshua, running to the stairs.
“Frank was their driver and had a 2013 Honda Accord running and waiting for them four floors down. Everything was proceeding exactly according to our plan.
“Charlotte ran down the stairs behind Joshua and realized that the heat would be coming down hard on them all. No longer were we going after people who were dealing drugs or in the mob. We had graduated from hurting criminals to hurting civilians that we deemed evil. Technically, it was now all of us who could and would be called terrorists. We were sure the media would paint us this way. All of them were realizing it at once. All of them were thinking, ‘What the hell did we let the Sarge convince us to do?' Well. That’s when you nudged me. Thanks by the way.”
Emily kissed him again on his cheek. He had sweat on his forehead again which she wiped with a tissue.
She said, “Our little talk hit home. I'm glad. No matter how sick and depraved those Westbranch people are, it's not a crime to be sick and depraved. Many law-abiding people are on our side and cheering every move you make right now. They would be hating us all if that operation was carried out. You and your people are more popular than anyone in the nation.”
“You're right. I'm calling it off. We'll stick to mafia roaches and drug dealers. That way we stay the good guys in everyone's eyes. Just call me Batman.”
Emily pulled back to look into his eyes. “The good guys who are still wanted by the FBI and police departments in multiple states… Just don’t forget to keep that in mind.”
Noah rubbed the back of her neck with his right hand. “We're still the good guys; the people love us. I think we can keep it that way for a long while. The police have wanted lots of good guys over the years. Besides, Batman was wanted too.”
Emily snickered. “Batman was a comic book, a cartoon. Not real like you. The media calling you Noah Hood is more accurate. Robin Hood was based on a real person. A legend. He stole from the corrupt wealthy nobles who robbed their own people of their money through taxation, and returned that money to the people, ” she said reminded him.
“Well then that's me. I'm a fookin legend. Who said it like that? Do you remember us watching a show? It was at Jen and Jackson's home,” he said.
Emily thought about it, tilted her head and then said, “Yeah... that creepy guy from Game of Thrones when they met that other strange guy named Crastor, up beyond the wall. At Crastor's Keep.”
“Ding ding ding, we have a winner. Good memory, my love,” he joked.
“I wish we were back there in Texas. I miss Jen, and I might never see her again in person.” She almost sulked thinking about it. She knew her face was one of the most expressive you would ever see. Her emotions were immediately evident no matter what she was feeling. Noah knew her so well that he could describe her face, every line and crinkle, for each and every emotion she expressed. She loved it when he studied her every move. She loved how he could tell her what she was thinking by just looking at her. She simply loved the man and couldn't see a life without him. It was his turn now to console her.
“That life is gone for us now; what we have is each other. We'll make the best of it, and we just might help change the world,” he said.
“Just maybe we can, as long as you keep listening to me and not doing any ops without talking to me first. Isolation can make you, me and well, pretty much any human real stupid. That Funeral Op was a stupid idea, yet your whole crew was cheering and ready to follow you into hell. I prefer you to stay alive and we... live happily...” She didn't finish the sentence. Noah looked at her. A sad look flashed over her. She knew Noah could sense it.
He finished for her. “Happily ever after. We'll do what we can. As long as we stick together. If we have each other, nothing else matters.”
She licked her lips and looked into his eyes. “I love you... and will love you forever and ever. Until the end of time.” Noah teared up a little.
“Now who's sounding sappy?” he asked as she began to tear up too.
Jen
Jen walked into the kitchen and straight to the Keurig coffee machine. She and Jackson had fun into the early morning and they were both in need of some strong coffee. She made Jackson one of his candy coffees that he so loved, smothered in French Vanilla cream.
After popping in the cup and flipping the lid down on the machine, she grabb
ed the remote control and turned on the TV screen.
She had MSNBC on. It was more out of habit than anything else. Her Aunt Diana always watched MSNBC. She preferred FOX News, but before she could change it, a newsflash came on reporting a shootout between Colombian drug lords and the Italian mob.
She covered her mouth and stared at the screen. Jackson walked in behind her and grabbed her around the waist. She was so focused on the news that she hadn’t even heard him come into the kitchen.
He kissed her behind her left ear and hugged her.
“Jackson,” she said as she pointed to the TV.
The reporter said, “The attack took place at 1:37 am. Captain Stiles is here and was on the scene soon after the attack occurred.”
The reporter put the microphone to the officer. He said, “It was a scene right out of a war zone. We believe the Luchese mob boss, Salvatore Gusepino, and his men were fired at from at least two locations. We are obtaining video footage from several locations near the club on 101st Avenue in Queens. We urge anyone who knows anything to please contact the police immediately. The FBI is taking over the investigation with the NYPD's full cooperation. This mob war has now expanded to killings in five states. It's an all-out war out there between the Italian Mob and Colombian Drug Lords, with some elements of the Mexican and Russian organized crime members taking part as well. The escalation of violence in New York, as well as New Jersey, has prompted the governors of both states to call an emergency session.”
Jen paused the TV.
The two of them stood there in the kitchen, staring at the now still screen. The coffee machine was finished and they could smell the aroma. Jen turned around to face her husband.
“Should I be scared for Em and Noah now?”
Jackson bit his lower lip.
“Your coffee's done. I didn't add all of the creamer and sugar yet,” she said.
He nodded towards the creamer next to the machine. Then he walked over and took the cup out, adding the creamer as Jen looked at the screen again.
She had her right hand over her mouth yet again, and she glanced over to Jackson as he finished preparing his coffee.
“Do you want a cup?” he asked.
She looked at the coffee machine almost as if she were hypnotized. She finally took her hand away from her mouth. “Oh, yeah... please. I can't think very well.”
She shook her head as Jackson popped another cup into the machine. “I understand it all much better now. Making one group attack another as they pull off their own heists of drug lords. Taking the money and giving it to the people. A pure genius move. You ever see Breaking Bad, where the kid was throwing all of his cash away? I was thinking about how that was similar to what Noah and his men are doing.”
Jackson put his mug down. “Noah is not manufacturing drugs, selling them and handing the money away.”
“I know, I just said it reminded me of it. What he's doing does get everyone on his side. Well, except for the FBI, the police and the politicians.”
“The screen said on the bottom '28 mobsters and drug pushers killed in just 7 days'.”
Jen closed her eyes as she bit her bottom lip again. She knew a tear escaped her right eye and slid down her cheek. She opened her eyes and grabbed a napkin, wiping both eyes before either could leak again.
Jackson took the cup out after the last drips were done. Then he added a couple of sugars before reaching for the milk. He stirred her coffee and brought it over to the table. “Here you go. Not as good as my candy coffee, but...”
She shook her head. “One day you’re going to get diabetes from all from all the sugar and sweets that you eat.”
He looked at her, then took a sip, making a contented happy face. He licked his lips and said “Delicious.” He sat down at the table with her.
“You know the FBI really will be bugging the house now that this is all intensifying. All of the surveillance sweeps in the world won't stop them, and all of our lawyers won’t be able to help. Privacy is going to be completely gone soon.”
“Yeah, I expected as much. I don't think it's safe to put any more letters under that rock either. You never know if we can be watched from above, drones and such. They can have the estate under surveillance at thirty thousand feet, and if they see you or I passing letters, we'll both get arrested.”
Jen opened up the Long Island Newsday. She pointed to a headline on page 2. She read aloud “Noah Hood and His Merry Band of MPs Strike Again.”
She started reading the article to Jackson. “Two days ago, the 'Sarge,' as they call him, led a dawn raid on yet another drug dealer in Brooklyn, New York. It is estimated that the AWRA group got away with over two million in cash. Once again, there were large cash donations to several local churches, all pledging to help the community. Individual envelopes with $500 cash in each were also given to hundreds of homes all over the neighborhood. Noah Hood is giving the money away as fast as it comes in.”
Jackson said “The man knows how to get publicity; you have to give him that. The media is eating this up, and he's becoming a real star on social media too. I think the Drudge Report said he was now the most talked about figure in the country. If you thought his ego was big before...”
Jen looked back at the paper. “Listen to this. The story went on to say that the ‘We Support Noah Hood’ page on Facebook now has over 5 million likes and is rising by up to 500 thousand more a day. People all over the whole country are showing their support of the self-styled revolutionary vigilante who continues to rob from the drug dealers and mobsters to give to the poor.”
Jackson sipped his coffee. “Where does it end though? What's this big thing that Emily was so afraid of?”
“I don't know, but now there are copycats. People are taking action themselves. A group caught a mugger on the subway A-line and beat the man to death. Onlookers said they chanted AWRA as they beat the mugger to death. Outside Yankee stadium a lady was robbed, and the robber was attacked by seven people who beat the man into a coma. In Central Park a jogger was being raped, and a group of 'saviors', as she called them, stopped the rapist, castrated him, tied his hands behind him and stuck his penis in his mouth, gagging him with it. He choked to death on his own vomit. The 'saviors’ carved AWRA in a tree where they left the rapist to die.”
“I remember. We talked about that one. All over people are standing up and fighting back. Noah's becoming their inspiration to take a stand against crime. To not sit still and let anyone get hurt. People just needed a spark. He's lighting them up all over. Every house that gets an envelope full of money, it gains him hundreds of backers within days. People are bragging about him everywhere. I told you this was going to go somewhere. Noah doesn't play. The mob made war on us and him and Em. He all but destroyed that whole group in the Gambinos already. Like Em said in Seclan, that mobster who put the hit out on us all will never bother us again. You heard he disappeared in the papers, right?”
She nodded yes. She took a sip of her own coffee, then put the cup down. She looked at him as he finished up his own cup. “As brutal as it’s been, there's something there that you, me and people can easily get behind. Noah's unwillingness to stay still and let others decide his fate. Men who are decisive like this attract lots of followers.”
Jackson reached for a roll that was in a basket on the table. “Do we have cream cheese in the fridge?” he asked as he got up and walked to the refrigerator.
“We have bagels right here in the brown bag; I had them bring the onion ones you love. The cream cheese is in the right door by the jelly. I could go for a bagel too.”
Jackson grabbed the cream cheese, and then took a butter knife from the counter before coming back to the table. He put the roll down and took an onion bagel.
“Did you know that in some states they don't have bagels and many people don't know what one is?” he asked.
“Are you serious? How could they not know what a bagel is?” She un-paused the television.
Jackson explained, �
��Noah and his soldier buddy Joshua were telling me. A few of the older MPs that they know would tell them that in Alabama, and some other states where there aren't many Jewish people, the store's don't sell bagels. He said at Fort McClellan, in Alabama where the Army used to have their Military Police School, usually no one there knew what a bagel was unless they were from New York, New Jersey, California or Illinois. And Florida too, with all of the retirees there I guess.”
“I'm joining that ‘We Support Noah Hood’ page on Facebook now on my cell.” Jen swiped at her phone and liked the page.
As he covered his bagel in Philadelphia Cream Cheese, Jackson said, “I miss hanging out with Noah. We were together most of the time since he left the Army. He could make me laugh like no one else could.”
“Same here for Em. I miss her more than you miss Noah. We grew up together since we were eight, remember?” He nodded and smirked with sad eyes.
Jackson finished creaming up his bagel and looked at his wife. “Life is never going to be the same for them. Or us.”
Jen's eyes grew wide as she looked at the TV screen. Jackson turned to see what had captured her attention.
On the screen, a scrolling headline announced, “Noah's Nine Strike Again, 4 Killed!” They looked at each other, then back at the screen as she turned the volume up.
Noah
Charlotte muted the TV as she, Noah, Mike, Joshua, Jacob, and Caesar all sat around discussing the events of the day before. It was beautifully clear outside, but still cold. It was a little steamy inside from the floor radiators in the basement apartment at 143 Pine.
Jacob said, “I think all of the operations went rather well. Although CBS alluded that a cop was hurt at that shootout between the Colombians and the Italian mobs in the Bronx. The cop wasn't shot and we weren't involved in the shootout, so we're still clean in the eyes of the people. Social media is going crazy. Everyone is loving how these cretins are killing each other. They love our fearless leader even more.” Jacob looked at Noah.