Forgotten Forbidden America: Rise of Tyranny

by Thomas A. Watson

  Nelson turned down the hallway to his office. “We can hope.”

  “Yeah, hope in one hand and shit in the other. See which one fills up first,” Daren said. “How much did you lose?”

  “A lot,” Nelson lied.

  “Seem pretty relaxed about it,” Daren said.

  “What can I do about it now?” he asked, opening his office. “The banks won’t let me touch it.”

  “You can’t go to a bank today,” Daren said. “Haven’t you heard? ATMs across the nation have been drained, and the Federal Reserve has declared a bank holiday until further notice.”

  About to walk into his office, Nelson froze and turned around. “When did you hear this?”

  “Just before you got here,” Daren said.

  Shaking his head, Nelson walked over to his desk. “Have any of the assistant managers called?”

  “I got in touch with one that could come in today if needed. The other three told me they might come in tomorrow. So far, I have ten people who’ll come in tomorrow if needed and two stockmen here now,” Daren reported, dropping down on the couch.

  “Get the museum firearms locked down. Put them in the safe while I see about the other stores and try to get someone from corporate,” Nelson said as he sat and opened e-mails. “Get me a radio so I can talk to you.”

  Daren stood up, took off his radio, and passed it over. “Your dog looks like he wants my leg to chew on.”

  “Zeus would never do that unless I told him,” Nelson said as Daren walked out, keeping an eye on Zeus. Seeing replies from all the stores in his district, Nelson opened them and found all the stores were locked down and under police protection. Then, he noticed an e-mail from the ATF. He was under the store’s FFL and got notices from them all the time, but this one was in red and said “urgent.” When he clicked it open, his heart sped up.

  “To all FFL Dealers,

  Effective immediately, all firearm sales are suspended until further notice due to the inability to run background checks. All firearms must be secured per the requirements of your licensure. Any breach will be dealt with according to the current Federal laws. Even sales to persons with a concealed permit may not purchase a firearm until the database comes online.

  Before opening for business you must call our Washington office and notify them you are opening even without the ability to sell firearms. You must justify your reasons for opening and they must be valid.

  Warning, opening without approval will result in immediate revoking of current FFL and imprisonment.

  Thank you for your cooperation.

  Director of the ATF Stanley Fisher”

  Grabbing the radio, he squeezed the button. “Hey, Daren, did you get a message from the ATF?”

  “Shit, I don’t know. I’ve been busy,” he shot back. “Why what does it say?”

  “Go to your computer, and see if they sent you one now.”

  “On my way,” Daren huffed.

  Digging through his rolodex, he found the vice president he reported to: Harry Winters. Dialing the first number, he reached voicemail, then Nelson dialed the next.

  “Hello,” a solemn voice answered.

  “Harry, it’s Nelson Jackson, district manager for region one.”

  “Hey, Nelson,” Harry said, moving the phone around. “This is some major stuff, huh?”

  “You have no idea. All district stores are secured but won’t open.”

  “Well, that’s good news. When do you think we can open?”

  “Harry, you’re not going to believe this, but I have an e-mail from the ATF telling me we can’t without their approval,” Nelson said.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?!” Harry shouted.

  “I’m sending you a copy now.”

  The phone rustled. “I’m heading to my computer,” Harry said, his voice animated. It was several minutes until Harry spoke. “Well, we’ll have to call them and tell them we just won’t sell guns.”

  “It will have to be you or the boss.”

  “I’ll do better than that; I’ll get legal on it.”

  “Harry, you do realize we have massive amounts of guns here, right?” Nelson said.

  “Yes, we used to be able to sell them. What’s your point?” he asked.

  “Riots aren’t going to be far from this, you realize,” Nelson said in a low voice. “If we open our doors and there are guns here, they won’t be for long. I’m having the museum put in the vault, but even with the gun room, we won’t be able to secure the rest.”

  “What do you propose? And don’t say let the cops have them because we will never get them back.”

  “Myself and the store manager are on the store’s FFL as well as two of the assistant managers. We can secure them offsite until this blows over. Legally, we can do that.”

  Harry sat for several minutes. “That does sound good. Just get a list of who has what. If they need to take a safe home, let them,” he finally said.

  “I don’t have the authority to tell my other store managers to do that. It will have to come from someone higher up the food chain than me,” Nelson said.

  “I’ll take care of that after I call legal and send out e-mails authorizing the removal of company property,” Harry said.

  “The stores are paying off-duty cops to guard them, and I’m getting feedback they want cash, and the stores don’t have that much on hand.”

  “I’ll get legal on that as well,” Harry said. “I know you’re not an expert, but how long do you think before looting starts?”

  “Here, it will be several days, but places like Dallas, Shreveport, Atlanta, and the others in big cities, I figure you have today,” Nelson replied.

  No one said anything for several minutes. “Shit,” Harry finally spat. “I’m going to call a board meeting. Until further notice, keep the store closed, and secure the weapons. I’ll call you back later today,” he said, hanging up the phone.

  Smiling, Nelson hung up as a voice screamed out of the CB store radio. “This is Nazi bullshit!”

  Nelson picked up the radio. “Daren, please control your words on an open channel,” he said calmly.

  “Sorry,” Daren mumbled.

  “Daren, meet me at the gun counter,” Nelson said, getting up. He grabbed Zeus’ leash and took off at a fast trot. When he got to the gun counter, he found Daren waiting for him. “The store is to remain closed until we hear from the bosses,” he said, stopping beside Daren.

  “Thank God,” Daren said. “With the banks closed, I just found out we can’t run credit cards, and people can’t get money,” he spat.

  “Are you willing to take some of these firearms to your house and secure them there?” Nelson asked.

  Thinking Nelson was joking, Daren waited for the punch line. When he realized Nelson was being serious, he threw his hands up and asked, “You want me to secure company property at my house after all this?”

  Nelson moved over and got in his face. “Daren, you can’t change shit; just make do with what you have,” he said then lowered his voice. “You can take stock home that’s worth thousands of dollars and secure it until the company can open if they ever can.”

  Daren thought about that and tried to smile. “Well, if push came to shove, I could feed my family,” he mumbled, and then a thought hit him. “Wait, if people found out I had these, they would kill my family.”

  “I suggest you not store them at your home where you’re staying. In fact, I would recommend getting to a place nobody knows you are at,” Nelson offered.

  Daren thought it over and nodded. “Yeah I can do that,” he said. “Only one problem: I have a Honda Civic.”

  Nelson grabbed his shoulder. “Dude, there is a brand new Dodge Ram 4x4 quad cab sitting in the front of the store. We are to secure valuable merchandise until this blows over.”

  “That truck belongs to a dealership, not us,” Daren said.

  Giving up, Nelson threw up his hands. “I’ve given you options; it’s up to you to take them or not,”
he said, walking behind the counter.

  “Okay, I’ll do it,” Daren said. “We will have coverage from the home office, right?”

  “Harry is sending us an e-mail. We are to make a list of what we have with us, but remember: If something is stolen, just write it up,” Nelson said.

  “I’m going to get the keys to the truck from my office,” Daren said, throwing Nelson the keys to the gun cabinets and safe room then took off at a run.

  Smiling, Nelson opened the display cabinets and started pulling out all the automatics and laid them on the counter. Then, he dug out the cases and started boxing them up. When he came to the suppressor case, he stopped. He had four at home for AR-15s and one for his .22. Seeing a Ruger .22 pistol with a suppressor, he opened the case and grabbed it.

  “You now have a new home,” Nelson said, working the action. He found the box and put the gun inside. He unloaded the case and found one each of a fifty caliber, a 7.62 and .338 Lapua, then fifteen 5.56 suppressors, twenty .22 suppressors, ten 9mm suppressors, and ten .45 suppressors. He stacked them on the counter and put the singles in his pile but would see how many Daren would take.

  He took all the flash mounts for them and put them on the counter as he heard a truck start up at the front of the store and shut off. It wasn’t long before he heard running footfalls heading toward him. “I have to get the gas from the back because it’s almost empty, but I’m in business,” Daren said with a grin.

  “How many suppressors do you want?” Nelson asked, moving over to the counter.

  “What about the ones in the gun room?” Daren asked, and Nelson looked at him. “There are about that many in the gun room. They are big sellers, so I increased the inventory, and you approved it.”

  “I’ll take these then, and you take those.”

  “What the hell do I need to store sixty suppressors for if I take the guns? Looters can’t use them.”

  “Fine, I’ll take them, but you really need to take a few, especially the .22. You can use them to hunt and keep the noise down,” Nelson said.

  “How did you know I’m heading to my hunting camp?” Daren asked.

  “I don’t—or didn’t.”

  “Shit, I’m not good at this covert shit,” Daren mumbled. “I’ll take a few of the others as well.”

  They went to work, and Nelson convinced Daren that they needed to take the weapons that held the most ammo first. Daren left and came back with the small forklift, carrying a stack of pallets. “We can put at least two in the back of each truck and cover them with tarps,” he said, climbing off the forklift.

  “Don’t know about you, but I’m taking one of the trailers in the back room,” Nelson said, pulling a pallet down and stacking cases on it.

  “The four-wheeler trailers?” Daren asked.

  “Yep,” Nelson said without stopping.

  “I need to put a tow system on that truck,” Daren said, walking over.

  Nelson paused. “It has one; you just need the two-inch mount, and they are in the automotive area,” he said and started stacking again.

  They worked for an hour filling up six pallets when phones rang around the store. Daren stopped and went over to answer it. “Daren,” he said, picking up the phone. “Yes sir, he’s right here,” he said and turned to Nelson. “It’s Harry.”

  Nelson walked over, wiping his brow. “Nelson here.”

  “Nelson, it’s a true world of shit here,” Harry almost shouted. “The ATF told legal if we open, we are going to jail, and if our weapons weren’t secure, we were going to jail.”

  “Working on that now, Harry,” Nelson said.

  “Good. I sent the e-mail, and legal agrees we need any firearm not able to be put in the safes secured,” Harry said.

  “It will be done before the day is out, and we have the paperwork of what we have. I’m putting one copy of the paperwork in my office, and each of us has one,” Nelson said.

  “Can you send me a copy?” Harry asked.

  “Not right away. We are taking the ATF paper and making copies. So far, we are talking like six hundred guns,” Nelson said. “Give me a few days, and I will be able to,” he offered.

  “Forget it if you keep one on-site,” Harry said. “I sent out to all stores to follow your way of securing them. All stores will pay the officers with cash on hand for the next four days; then, corporate will be sending cash directly to the police station to pay until we can reopen.”

  “Any idea on when?” Nelson asked.

  Harry let out a long sigh. “The ATF said we are to stay closed for the next fourteen days; then, they will evaluate if we can open,” he groaned. “Oh and Nelson, the director of the ATF called just a few minutes ago and said no ammunition whatsoever is to be sold, and it must be secured along with the weapons.”

  “I hope you’re kidding because there is no way we can secure that much,” Nelson said.

  “Just do the best you can,” Harry told him. “The director asked about the class three weapons at some of our stores with the fine gun rooms, and I assured him they would be locked down first.”

  “I can assure you of that, sir,” Nelson grinned.

  “I’ll try to call you back this afternoon after the board meeting,” Harry said and hung up.

  Nelson turned to Daren and told him what was said.

  “Nelson, we have like thirty class three weapons here,” Daren said.

  “Get the ones you’re willing to take, and I’ll take the others,” Nelson said, moving back to the pallets.

  “Shit if I’m taking those. The ATF will shoot my ass if one of those disappears.”

  Giving up on Daren, Nelson shook his head. “Go and get more pallets,” he said, walking into the store room and coming out with a flatbed cart. “When you get back, we will take the rifles out here with limited magazines and put them in the gun room and take those in the gun room that have expanded or removable magazines and load them up,” he said and stopped.

  “They are already in the gun room; it’s a big safe. Why do we want to exchange them out?” Daren asked.

  “They are worried more about the weapons that hold more bullets, Daren. Any safe can be broken into, and they would rather lose bolt-action rifles than an AR-15,” Nelson said, pulling the cart toward the fine gun room and calling Zeus to follow.

  “The more reason I don’t want too many of them,” Daren mumbled, getting in the forklift.

  Nelson found the two stockmen still working on the museum and told them, “Good work,” on his way. He used the keys to the fine gun room then the key pad to finish unlocking it. He pulled his cart in and just stared at the expensive guns on the wall.

  “Wish I could take a few of you,” he said, pulling his cart over to the class three section. Unlocking the case, he started pulling the weapons out. There were several M-16s and M-4s, even one with a grenade launcher, but civilians could only buy the chalk rounds. He pulled out an M-60E3 and a SAW and smiled, hoping there was some belted ammo in the back.

  He picked up a Thompson submachine gun and held it like the pictures of Al Capone. “Oh yeah, I can be a gangster,” he chuckled and put the gun on the cart. When he was done, he walked to the back and found several cases of belted ammo. He grabbed them and put them on the flatbed. He counted thirty-two fully automatic guns as he pulled the flatbed out.

  When he got back to the gun counter, Daren was returning with more pallets. Nelson left the cart and walked over to Daren. “Come unlock the bay door so I can pull my truck inside,” he said, calling Zeus to follow him outside.

  Daren ran up beside him. “Why do you have two radios on your belt?” he asked.

  “The other is so my wife can contact me,” Nelson said.

  They walked through the store in silence until they reached the employee entrance. “You’re a prepper, aren’t you?” Daren asked.

  “No, I just stay prepared,” Nelson lied.

  Daren didn’t buy it. “I always thought you were,” he said as they stopped by the door.<
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  Nelson looked at him. “First rule is you don’t tell anyone what you have.”

  “Can I come over to your house?” Daren asked.

  Nelson shook his head. “You’ve seen how big my house is. I can’t take anymore.”

  “I bet you have somewhere you can run to,” Daren said.

  “Daren,” Nelson said, getting very serious. “Not saying I do, but if I did, that means there would be others there, and if I showed up with someone who isn’t part of the group, they would be shot, and I would be kicked out. I would be bringing someone who hadn’t helped set it up but would use the resources that had been prepared.”

  “That’s tough,” Daren said, shocked.

  “Your hunting camp fits all the areas one needs for a retreat, Daren. It’s far from anyone, has water and shelter, and can be defended easily,” Nelson said, and Daren suddenly felt relieved. Nelson looked out the small window but didn’t see anyone. “I’m going outside. Meet me at the bay door,” he said, walking out and putting his hand on his pistol.

  He could see a few cars on the road and a mass of people at the grocery store down the road but nothing close. “Zeus in,” he said, hitting the unlock button and opening the door. Zeus jumped up and went to the passenger seat as Nelson climbed in and started the truck.

  A police officer came over, and Nelson held up his ID and waved. The cop waved back and went back the front of the store. Feeling like a thousand eyes were on him, Nelson drove to the back of the store and backed up as Daren opened the bay door that was used to bring in the big displays like cars and boats.

  As Nelson backed to the middle of the store, Daren shut the bay door and locked it. Nelson climbed out, followed by Zeus. “Want to take a ten-minute break?” he asked Daren.

  Daren looked at his watch and saw it was close to noon. “Yeah, just let me grab something to drink, and I’ll back that truck back here,” he said and walked away.

  “Hey, make sure you point the front at the bay door so you don’t have to back out with a trailer,” Nelson said, walking over to the checkout in clothing. He grabbed the phone and dialed home.