Military Fiction: THE MAC WALKER COLLECTION: A special ops military fiction collection...

by D. W. Ulsterman

  “No need to bother Dr. Bedman – I can take care of it.”

  Dasha reached down between Mac’s legs and grasped the catheter line, her cold beautiful features still smiling back at Mac as she ripped the catheter away from Mac’s body.

  A slight hiss escaped Mac’s lips, though his face remained calm, his eyes still filled with deadly intent.

  “Girl like you always ends up reaching between a man’s legs, huh?”

  Dasha straightened up, her smile gone from her face.

  “And men like you are always leaving her disappointed in what she finds.”

  XIII.

  The holding cell was similar in size to the medical room, containing a sink, toilet, and single bed. Three walls were brick and mortar, with half inch bars making up the fourth wall and door. Two armed guards stood just outside the cell, their backs to Mac. They said nothing, and were unmoving.

  Mac took the opportunity of no longer being strapped to a bed to stretch his muscles, wanting to ensure that if he was given a chance to escape, his body would be fully prepared to do so. Wherever they were keeping him was underground. Mac was familiar with the coolness of the walls and the way the sounds around him were muffled. It wasn’t the first time he found himself being locked up somewhere below ground. The question was – would it be his last?

  No, they need me for this trial. After that though, I’m expendable.

  The echo of a metallic door opening from somewhere down the narrow hallway reverberated in Mac’s cell. He sat down on the hard, thin bed and waited.

  The round, sweating face and short lumpy body of Hubert Gresh appeared on the other side of the cell bars, standing in between the two armed guards.

  “Hello again Mr. Walker. Are you comfortable in your new, uh, room?”

  Mac placed his hands onto his knees and leaned forward with a manic grin, though nothing in his eyes suggested the slightest hint of a smile.

  “Why I’m just right as rain here Mr. lawyer man. It’s the goddamn Hilton up in here!”

  Gresh’s right hand nervously pinched the loose fabric on the leg of his tan trousers as he tried to avoid eye contact with Mac.

  “Well, yes, uh, I am here to discuss more details of your upcoming trial Mr. Walker. It won’t take long, perhaps just, uh, twenty minutes or so.”

  Mac snorted as he stood up from the bed and walked toward Hubert Gresh.

  “Yeah, imagine it won’t take long, since this ain’t no trial. It’s a bullshit kangaroo court, some kind of public sacrifice with me as the main course. You’re aware they’ve threatened me, right? My friends, their family…that’s how they intend to make sure I cooperate with all of this bullshit. By threatening to kill women and children. How’s that make you feel Mr. Gresh? To be a part of what these people are doing?”

  Hubert Gresh continued to avoid eye contact, his voice lowering to a whisper.

  “I’m not here to talk about me Mr. Walker. Just doing my job, same as you.”

  Mac wrapped his hands around the bar of the cell while shaking his head slowly.

  “No…you don’t get to say that lawyer man. If you were anything like me, you’d be breaking the necks of these here guards and taking me to Dasha.”

  Mac saw the guard on the right glance over at Hubert Gresh as his hands tightened slightly around the assault rifle he held.

  “Mr. Walker, I need you to just be quiet for a moment and listen.”

  Mac walked slowly back to the cell bed and sat down.

  “My dad used to say that a real man didn’t talk much, and that said a whole lot. So the way I figure it Mr. Gresh, you’re gonna start doing a lot of talking, without saying a damn thing. So you go on then and do your job as you call it, and I’ll pretend to listen, and then what will be will be, right?”

  The attorney offered a weak smile as a line of sweat moved from his forehead down toward his nose.

  “Next week, you will enter a plea of not guilty Mr. Walker, for the charges of committing a hate crime murder, and the use of an illegal weapon. The federal government will make its case against you, and I will offer up a defense, after which a jury will then decide the verdict, followed by the judge’s sentencing. The trial will be given considerable media coverage, so please be prepared for that, and act accordingly.”

  Mac stood up again, his face a mixture of scowling bewilderment.

  “What is that – acting accordingly? I’m being charged with a crime I didn’t commit. Acting accordingly means I go in there and give them all hell. Is that what you mean?”

  Gresh nodded his head enthusiastically.

  “Why yes, Mr. Walker that would be perfect! Be yourself! Fight the charges! As you say, you’re an innocent man, right?”

  Mac made note of Gresh’s response. It clarified what he suspected since first being told of the impending trial. Dasha wanted him to fight the charges. She wanted him to forcibly declare himself an innocent man. That would make him eligible for execution, and he was quite certain that execution would be expedited soon after the trial. Dasha wanted a show, something millions would watch and follow, and then come to realize the futility of fighting the system. Mac realized then why he was being used. It was to help remove the last vestiges of fighting spirit in the American people, to guilt them into submission. Make him an example – that no-one can stand up to the new anti gun laws, the power of government, the move toward this New United Nations.

  “So will you be ready and willing next week Mr. Walker? Ready to enter your plea of not guilty?”

  Mac nodded his lie back to Hubert Gresh.

  “Oh yeah – let’s shove that not guilty right up their ass. They want to charge me with this bullshit, I’m gonna fight it. With or without your help, Gresh. I ain’t going down for something I didn’t do.”

  Again Gresh smiled, clearly pleased with Mac’s words.

  “Very good, Mr. Walker! Thank you!”

  Back at her D.C. residence, Dasha Al Marri watched and listened to the conversation between Mac Walker and Hubert Gresh via a hidden camera imbedded within the wall opposite Mac’s cell, a small smile forming on her face as she did so. She turned her head toward the always present Nigel, who stood beside her.

  “See, he is as predictable as I said he would be. Always wanting to fight, to prove himself. Such a typical man. Everything is going according to plan Nigel. We will have our show for the Americans, give them a lesson in compliance, and then we will be finished with Mr. Walker once and for all.”

  Nigel’s face was unreadable as he looked down at Dasha and nodded, though his mind silently spoke to the future of the woman who entrusted him with her life.

  Yes Dasha, and soon we will be finished with you as well.

  XIV.

  For three days Mac Walker was left alone in his cell. Meals were brought in the morning and late afternoon, consisting of two slices of bread with a trace of peanut butter, and a small cup of water.

  Finally on the fourth day since his last meeting with Hubert Gresh, Mac found himself looking back through the bars at Mr. X who looked both well rested, and quite confident. Mac crossed his arms over his chest and glared back at the New United Nations operative.

  “How’s your neck feeling?”

  Mr. X smiled back warmly at Mac.

  “It is fine Mr. Walker – just fine! Yes, admittedly, you gave me a bit of a scare, but no hard feelings. It is your nature after all to fight back.”

  Mac unfolded his arms and placed his hands around the bars of the cell as his eyes remained fixed on Mr. X.

  “What do you want? Is it time for the trial?”

  Mr. X waved his dark skinned hand at Mac, shaking his head from side to side as he did so.

  “No, not yet. Tomorrow you enter your plea Mr. Walker. 10:00 a.m. I am here to make certain we have truly come to an agreement. You will be participating as requested of you in this trial, correct? As you know, your friend and his family…”

  Mr. X let the implied threat trail off without actually sa
ying it to Mac.

  ‘I tell you what Mr. X – I’m willing to sit there and be charged with this bullshit, let you make a media circus out of me, but I want something from you first.”

  Mr. X’s eyes widened slightly as his head tilted to the left.

  “What would that be Mr. Walker?”

  Mac leaned the front of his face in between the bars and softly voiced his demand.

  “Answers.”

  Mr. X’s eyes grew even wider.

  “Answers Mr. Walker? What kind of answers?”

  “You seem to have a line on what’s going down all around us. This New United Nations thing, whatever the hell that was back in Benghazi, the gun controls, the food police, all of it. Whatever this is, it ain’t America. So you tell me what is going on. I can’t do a damn thing to stop it, but you want me to play patsy for your dog and pony show, I’d like to have at least some idea of what this is all about.”

  Mr. X’s warm smile returned, his head nodding enthusiastically.

  “Ah, you are a curious man aren’t you Mr. Walker! You wish for me to explain what, how did you put it, what all of this is about? Very well then, I see no reason why not. I would be happy to educate you on some of what this world is being made into. This is a transformative time Mr. Walker. Consider yourself blessed to be playing a part in it!”

  Mac walked back to the cell’s small bed and sat down.

  “Ok then, how about you start with my trial? Why bother? Why the hate crime charge? You know damn well I shot that man in self defense.”

  Mr. X placed both his hands into the front pockets of his trousers, his body relaxing as he began the conversation with Mac Walker in earnest.

  “Did you Mr. Walker? Perhaps you did. Either way, it doesn’t matter to us. You are a white man who shot and killed a black man. That is all that matters. We have long standing agreements with central figures within media organizations. News does not happen Mr. Walker – it is manufactured. This is nothing new – we have been doing it for many years now. Your trial is merely another example of this, albeit one that comes on the eve of a final assimilation into a new and wonderful world.”

  “And where does the United States fit into this…new and wonderful world?”

  Mr. X grinned knowingly.

  “It doesn’t Mr. Walker. What we are completing at this very time, is a global movement. A new order where prior obligations and loyalties cannot be allowed to exist. The United States as you have known it – will not exist. That time is over.”

  Mac’s eyes narrowed slightly as he considered Mr. X’s words.

  “You think Americans are going to stand for that? Just give it all up?”

  Mr. X’s eyes glanced upward toward the hallway ceiling.

  “Oh yes Mr. Walker – they already are. Generations of preparation has made it a certainty. We’ve controlled the messaging, from the media, to education, what little resistance that does take place will be minimal and short lived. We control the skies you know – we see everything Mr. Walker. And if we see something we don’t like, there will be death from above, and these Americans today, so happy and fat in their ignorance, will soon learn full compliance, and do so willingly.”

  Mac’s mind was taking in every word of the discussion – he wanted to keep Mr. X talking.

  “What do you mean by controlling education?”

  “Yes, Mr. Walker, education. We control the universities who churn out new teachers. They have been taught to teach our version of a rightful world for decades now. A world without borders, without allegiance to singular nations. A world that understands central authority is a necessity for a truly fair and balanced society. And the books, all those textbooks – we control those too Mr. Walker. The education packets, the films, it has all worked in near perfect harmony. Equality, fairness, guilt for what America truly is, and a desire to flush it away into the cesspool where it belongs. That has been public education’s purpose within our movement Mr. Walker. You should know as well as anyone, the best soldiers are those best trained. We have been in the business of training for a very long time now.”

  Mac noted how confident Mr. X sounded. There appeared not even a hint of doubt in his belief the United States was soon to no longer exist.

  “When you refer to “we”, are you talking about the Saudis?”

  Mr. X paused for a moment, his mouth curling downward slightly as he considered how best to answer the question.

  “They have been an integral part, yes. This is far bigger than merely the Saudis though, Mr. Walker. While we have gladly been recipients of their financial backing for some time now, the New United Nations will be more than merely the sum of its parts, more than merely representing the House of Saud interests. We are legion Mr. Walker, and we are one.”

  “And what was Benghazi?”

  The knowing smile returned to Mr. X’s face.

  “Benghazi was simply a conduit for further destabilization. Libya was a continuation of Egypt, Tunisia, and Yemen, and the intended precursor to Syria. From chaos comes order Mr. Walker – it has always been. You were merely hired to ensure that necessary chaos continued in that part of the world. Unfortunately, you failed to complete your intended assignment.”

  Mac rose from the bed glared back at Mr. X.

  “I didn’t sign up to kill a United States ambassador.”

  Mr. X gave a small shrug of his shoulders.

  “He made known his intent to go public with the operation. In doing so, he became expendable, perhaps even a threat. People die all the time Mr. Walker. In this case, it was for the greater good. Some must die to ensure many more may live in peace.”

  “By peace, you mean under the control of some massive, centralized government authority. Without a United States. Without freedom. Is that about it?”

  Mr. X appeared sad to hear Mac dispute his version of a globalist utopia.

  “The vast majority of human beings want to be told what to do Mr. Walker. They need to be told what to do. We intend to provide that order to the world. People will be given housing, very specific foods to eat, traditionally negative behaviors will be eliminated, as will those individuals incapable of assimilating into this new world. The genetic framework will be cleansed Mr. Walker. The world will be set right again. The evils of market driven greed, and economic disparity will be a thing of the past. Does such a world not sound far more preferable than the one you grew up in Mr. Walker?”

  Mac had heard enough.

  “You’ve lost your damn mind. I know there’s bad guys in this world – killed plenty of them myself. There’s no way you’re part of some organization that can control all of America, let alone the world. No way. You can threaten me, or Benny and his family, but you can’t take everyone on. There’s still some good people in this government. They might not be the majority, but they do exist.”

  Mr. X held up his right pointer finger to Mac.

  “Just one moment Mr. Walker, I want to show you something.”

  Mac waited as Mr. X walked down the hallway out of sight of the cell. The sound of something being rolled along the concrete floor echoed throughout the interior of the structure until finally Mr. X stood again in front of Mac’s cell with a large, flat screen television next to him.

  “You gonna let me watch cartoons?”

  Mr. X chuckled as he powered the TV on, the screen revealing what appeared to be the image of the entrance to a large government building. A throng of people were gathered, many carrying signs. Mac peered intently at one of those signs and was startled to see his own name scrawled across it.

  Mac Walker Is A Hate Crime!

  “That there is outside this very building Mr. Walker. For the last few days, as many as three hundred people have stood outside below those steps calling out that the system deliver justice to you for the killing of that unarmed black man in Kentucky. All of the major network and cable news organizations have been discussing the case on the hour, every hour of the day. You might well be at this very mo
ment, the most hated man in America Mr. Walker!”

  Mac watched as Mr. X changed the screen’s image to reveal a montage of media broadcasts of the shooting. The coverage was entirely inaccurate of the truth, including an interview with the woman whose life he had actually saved telling a reporter that Mac had in fact screamed out the term nigger before killing her assailant. Mac’s personal and military history was edited to make him appear to be some kind of right wing radicalized gun happy white power lunatic. Documents had been fabricated entirely. The entire scenario was a fabrication from beginning to end, but the American public now took it as fact.