The Resolution

by Steven Bird

  “Trying to catch some dinner?” asked Jason in jest.

  Chuckling, Carl replied, “There’s probably not too many UN boys who carry a deer call on their person when setting up an ambush. That’s Q down there. His reply lets me know the coast is clear. Given a different response, or no response at all, I’d have known to high-tail it out of here.” Pointing down the hill, he said, “You see those rocks where the trickle of a stream flows?”

  “Yep,” Jason replied.

  “About twenty yards to the left of that, back behind the brush, there is a rock overhang. Underneath that overhang is the cave I was talking about. The steep and hostile terrain combined with the fact that once inside, there is a good thirty to forty feet of each over the top of us, we’re pretty secure. Using the local mountainous terrain is the only advantage we have over the UN or any other group that may want to put a squeeze on us. Those of us who have lived here all our lives know this place like the backs of our hands. They are just outsiders relying on maps and intel briefings. Our blood runs through this place. That’s an advantage that’s hard to quantify.”

  “Just like the Taliban and the Mujahedeen in Afghanistan against the Soviets and us,” replied Jason.

  “I’d personally rather be compared to the Spartans at the battle of Thermopylae, but whatever gets the point across to ya.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Oh, I’m just messin’ with ya. Getting back to business, though, the best way down the hill is the rocks following the creek. It makes a natural ladder or staircase and you’re a lot less likely to leave tracks on the rocks. I’ll cover you while you scurry down to the bottom, then you just head on over to where I said the cave was. Q will be waiting. Then I’ll send Evan and take up the rear.”

  “Roger Roger,” said Jason smartly as he slung his AK74 over his back and began working his way down the steep rock and brush-covered hillside. Reaching the bottom, Jason gave Carl the thumbs up and proceeded to meet Q in the cave.

  Once both Evan and Carl were safely at the bottom of the rock-strewn hill, they continued into the cave, where they found Jason and Q standing watch at the opening, covering Evan and Carl’s entry.

  “Long time no see, Evan!” Q said as he gave him a hug and a firm slap on the back.

  Evan winced in pain. “Ouch. Sorry, but Jason and I got into a little scrape and they left their mark on me.”

  “Oh, sorry,” Q replied. “Yeah, we heard about your “little scrape” as you put it. We’ve always got someone listening in on their common frequencies. They weren’t too happy about that. It pisses me off to no end what they did to Bill, Vanessa, and poor Audrey though. I’m damn glad you guys took care of that shit on the spot.”

  Carl nodded in agreement.

  “We’ve been paying a little extra attention to this area,” Q added. “We wanted to make sure you two made it home okay—knowing how everything that went down on the farm would force them to step their game up a bit.”

  “Have you heard anything about our friends who were captured when we were?” asked Evan.

  “We haven’t heard anything for sure, but we do know that there are detention centers popping up all over the country. There are at least twenty-five that we know of. Our sources tell us that most of the folks taken from this area end up being processed through a camp down by the airport in Atlanta. Our friends with the Southern States Defensive Coalition (SSDC) tell us something big is planned for the airport, which is now just a forward operating base for the UN and its not-so-peaceful peacekeeping forces.”

  “Something big?” Jason asked.

  “Yeah, instead of giving them free reign to hunt us down like dogs, several of the militias that are part of the SSDC plan on hitting it and hitting it hard. The goal is to keep them on the defense instead of the offense. They’ve got dedicated assets to help in the fight, so don’t worry, they won’t be too outgunned.”

  “What about the camp?” Evan asked.

  “They’ve got that covered. Some of their own are there and once the party starts, they’re gonna take the place down and get everyone out. From what we know, it’s not a hard target. Mostly corrugated sheet metal construction with razor wire and lookout posts. It’s strong enough to keep an unarmed man in, but I doubt they can keep us out. Once the Russian UN forces are tied up with the assault, a team specially put together for the mission will hit the camp and try to evacuate all of the detainees.”

  “Damn,” Evan said. “Things are starting to get serious. I guess we always saw something like this coming. It just couldn’t go on like it was forever. Someone was bound to show up eventually and try to stake a claim; it just seems like that was more of a distant thought than a reality.”

  “It’s a reality now,” added Carl.

  “So what do you need us for?” asked Evan.

  “The Blue Ridge Militia is gonna stay put during the hit. There is already a strong UN presence in the area and we can’t just leave our families to their mercy while we take a road trip to Atlanta. There is already a more than sufficient number of personnel and assets assembled from several of the area militias. The Southern Appalachian Militia, the Smokey Mountain Militia, and the Georgia State Constitutional Militia will all be representing the SSDC during the strike.”

  “That’s good to hear,” replied Jason. “I’m glad so many are stepping up to the plate.”

  “Yes, it is,” Q continued. “That being said, we want to put an encrypted radio repeater or two in the hills near your homesteads. We’ve got this side of Del Rio covered, but we are still blind in regards to what’s coming in from your direction.”

  Jason and Evan shared a concerned look.

  “What we have is a number of HiveNet tactical suitcase-sized repeaters that utilize solar charging to be as portable and maintenance-free as possible. They are perfect for our application. The system is fully encrypted so that if a repeater is compromised, the rest of the network remains secure. Also, a radio operator can roam throughout the deployed network without any channel selection or interaction. Your handheld encrypted digital radio will simply jump from repeater to repeater as you travel through the HiveNet network. This makes it easy for the operator of an associated transmitter to move around to various locations within the network, making location triangulation more difficult. The network is also self-healing, which is important for us. If they take out one of the repeaters after homing in on it, the rest of the system continues to function without it, with no corrective action on our part. Repeaters can be added or removed at any time without compromising the network.”

  “How easy are they to DF?” asked Jason, referring to the UN potential ability to use direction-finding equipment to home in on the repeaters and transmitters.

  “Well, that’s always a possibility. We’ve got a few guys on board who are a bit smarter than I am in that regard though; they’ve developed some strategies for us to use to keep the risk as low as possible. Considering factors such as antenna polarization, using the lay of the land to control wave propagation, using just enough power to transmit to the next repeater and not beyond, and good COMSEC (communications security) procedures such as extremely short bursts of communication, we can mitigate that risk to an acceptable level. Especially considering the current patrol presence they have. If we were facing the best and brightest of the U.S. Army during their peak, that would be another story.”

  Giving each other a look of mutual understanding, Evan and Jason nodded in agreement, and Evan said, “Okay, just tell us what to do.”

  “Great!” Q said. “Now here is exactly what we need you to do…”

  For the next half hour, Q showed Evan and Jason several locations marked on a topographical map that would best be suited as additions to their secure repeater network. He also explained the COMSEC procedures they were to follow when transmitting on the network, as well as explaining in detail the operation of the units.

  “I also recommend that your homesteads keep their own CB and HAM transmissions
to a minimum. You don’t want to give them any reason to begin snooping around your area. A HAM station these days is a telltale sign of a preparedness-minded individual, and that will get you on their visit list in a hurry.”

  Jason looked around the small cave, and not seeing any extra equipment, he asked, “So, did you bring them with you?”

  “No, we have several caches of equipment prepositioned at various places that users can retrieve on their own. That way, there isn’t the extra logistical step of transporting and making face-to-face handoffs, which would increase our exposure significantly. For you guys, the closest cache to your route of travel is here,” he said, pointing to the topographical map. A watertight Pelican-style trunk is hidden in a densely wooded and brush-covered area near a large, fallen walnut tree. You will see several football-sized rocks lying in a straight line, extending out from the dead tree. Follow the direction of those rocks until you find yourself in the thick of the brush. At that point, you’ll just have to beat around until you find it. Once you do, take two repeaters and two handheld transmitters. Place the repeaters where we discussed, and I would recommend placing the second transmitter in a fallback location. That way, in the event of trouble, you can give us a call for help, even if you can’t get to your house. You definitely don’t want to make a habit of keeping a transmitter on your person. That would be a dead giveaway of militia involvement if you were stopped for questioning. You’d find yourself in a detention camp in no time.”

  “That all seems pretty straight forward to us,” Evan replied.

  “Good. Your daily monitor time will be from 1300 to 1315. If we need to get in touch with you, we’ll do it then. And remember, keep a pen and paper handy because the info will be in short bursts and won’t be repeated. If you need us, we’ve always got ears on the air. Now, you two get back to your families. Thanks for taking the time out to meet me today; it’s been great seeing you two again so soon.”

  “You, too, man,” Evan said, shaking Q’s hand.

  “Yeah, man; thanks again for everything you do,” added Jason, shaking Q’s hand as well.

  As Carl turned to lead Evan and Jason out of the cave and back to his home, Q shouted, “And remember, guys, these guys think they’re just messin’ with a bunch of hillbillies. We’ll make ’em afraid of the hills when we’re done!”

  Chapter Fourteen: Reckoning

  As several days passed, the monotonous life inside Camp Twenty-one began to become routine for Ed and Nate. They had begun to make friendships and acquaintances with the other detainees of quad two. Though they had no direct contact with detainees in the other quads, the thin, corrugated sheet metal walls around the camp did not hide the sounds of daily life on the other side. The occasional scuffle that they could assume was between detainees and guards, as well as the opening and closing of the noisy metal sliding doors, made them constantly aware of the activity around them.

  Shortly after returning from breakfast, as the sun was making its way across the sky, Ed, Nate, and two men named Matt Wilkes and Tommy Phelps, who they had recently befriended, were relaxing in the shade in the only corner of the quad not already covered by the rays of the pre-noon sun.

  “So how old are your kids, Tommy?” Nate asked in an attempt to alleviate his own boredom with conversation.

  “Six and four,” Tommy replied. “Well, for another week, that is. My six year old turns seven next week… um, I think it’s next week. I’ve sort of lost track of the days.”

  “Yeah, I hear ya on that one. Neither Ed nor I have wives or kids, so the actual date is meaningless to us with no birthdays or anniversaries to have to remember. I only care what season it is these days.”

  “Heck, Nate,” Ed replied with a chuckle. “You’ll have a wife and a kid before long. Nate here has a pretty young thing with a little boy waiting for him back home.”

  Though Nate appreciated Ed’s positive outlook, it was a depressing reminder that the life he had recently dreamed of might be slipping out of his reach. He could not see a positive outcome arising from his present situation. Hanging his head low, he tossed a pebble at the ground and said, “Yeah… I hope.”

  “It’s not over ’til it’s over, man,” added Matt. “It’s not like this is a Nazi death camp.”

  “Maybe not yet, but it’s off to a good start,” Nate replied, tossing another pebble to the ground, fixating on its short flight through the air.

  “Ah, crap,” Ed said with contempt in his voice. “There comes our friend Tate.”

  Tommy looked up to see Tate walking toward them with his buddies. “I’m so sick of that bastard. I don’t know what sort of life he lived before they threw him in here, but he sure as hell seems to be enjoying the place.”

  “We’ve just got to play the game a little longer, man. Play the game,” added Matt.

  Walking up to the group, Tate stood tall with shoulders back and chest extended. “You guys are in our spot.”

  “There’s lot’s of room here, man,” answered Tommy in a calm but defiant voice. “Can’t you just find another spot? We’re all on the same team. Remember?”

  “Get the hell out of my corner. I’m not telling you again,” Tate demanded as his cohorts took a few steps to each side, expanding their visual presence and giving Tate room to do whatever he needed.

  Matt replied before Tommy had a chance, “C’mon, man. You’ve been givin’ us all shit since we’ve been here. We’re tired of it. We’re tired of everything. We’ve got nothing to live for in here and, quite frankly, I’m not sure I have anything to live for out there, either. Why don’t you just sit down and join us and let’s all start over? We don’t have to be enemies. We’ve got the blue bellies for that. We can all just kick back like friends and make fun of them to pass the time.”

  Without hesitation, Tate kicked gravel in Matt’s face. “I said move!”

  Shielding himself with his arm, Matt exclaimed, “What the hell, man?” He jumped to his feet. “I’m sick of your crap! I’m sick of all this crap! Now get the hell away from us or get your ass beat. I, for one, am not gonna take it anymore!”

  Glancing up at the upper level of quad two’s central building, Ed could see the guards watching with interest from above, but taking no action. “Calm down, boys. The blue bellies are watching the show.”

  “You know how it works. Last in, first out. I win the game by default,” replied Tate, disregarding Ed’s warning.

  “I don’t give a shit about that anymore. Maybe getting kicked out of here would be a good thing if it gets me away from you. Not to mention the satisfaction of watching you bleed.”

  “Matt!” Tommy said insistently.

  Ignoring the warnings of his friend, Matt stepped forward and came to within inches of Tate, standing face to face. Tate had several inches and about twenty pounds on Matt, but Matt had no intention of backing down, punishment from the guards or not. “Your little reign of terror is over, Tate. Back the hell off,” Matt said through gritted teeth.

  Tate spat directly into Matt's eyes and threw an uppercut punch, knocking Matt to the ground. Ed and Tommy immediately jumped to their feet as Tate’s friends squared off on them.

  Matt sprinted from the ground and ran shoulder first into Tate’s knees, taking his legs out from under him. Landing firmly on his back with a solid thud, Tate struggled to catch his breath while Matt began punching him like a mad man.

  “Matt, stop!” Tommy shouted as he started to run over and stop the fight. Tate’s friend intervened and held him back. Tommy wanted to help, but considering the fact that Matt was holding his own and gaining ground, he momentarily chose to stand down as thoughts of his family and the freedom he so longed for flashed before his eyes. Just stay out of it, he said to himself.

  As Matt drew his fist back to throw a punch at Tate’s face, Tate’s other cohort threw dirt in Matt’s eyes, giving Tate an opportunity to overpower him and get back to his feet.

  “Hey! You stay out of it!” Tommy shouted as his adver
sary blocked him from running to Matt’s aid.

  As Matt leaned forward and attempted to clear his eyes with his hands, Tate kicked him square in the jaw, creating an awful cracking sound; blood flew from Matt’s mouth with the impact.

  “Hey, do something!” Ed shouted to the guards as they sat by patiently watching the fight as if it was for entertainment.

  Nate hobbled up to his foot and hopped over to the wall to get out of the way. Without his prosthetic leg, he knew he was in no condition to get involved in a physical altercation like this.

  Stumbling backwards, almost falling to the ground, Matt dodged Tate’s next roundhouse punch and followed through with a swing of his own, hitting Tate directly behind the ear as his body carried him forward from his missed punch.

  Matt’s punch sent Tate forward onto the ground, sliding face first in the gravel. In a total fit of rage, Matt raised his right leg as if to stomp on Tate’s head.

  “Matt, no!” Tommy yelled, knowing Matt was about to cross a line from which he could not return. At the same time, a crack rang out, echoing off of the camp’s steel walls. Matt’s body jerked violently as a mist of blood erupted from his back, knocking him to the ground.

  Ed and Nate turned to see one of the guards in the watchtower in the far corner of the quad holding a rifle, still aimed at Matt.

  As Matt writhed in pain on the ground, a second shot rang out, impacting him directly in the center of his chest. All movement stopped, as Matt now lay lifeless. In total shock of what happened, the men felt frozen in time. They were quickly snapped back into reality, though, as the guards on the second floor of the center building ran down the retractable stairs, clubs in hand, screaming, “On the ground! On the ground!”

  The detainees all dropped to the ground in compliance with the orders from the guards, knowing there was no course of action they could take that would have a good outcome other than to comply.