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

by D. W. Ulsterman

  “I know your kind, Officer Hess, all too well. To excuse inhumanity, evil, all under the false guise of merely following orders. You are but a willing pawn in the new Holocaust that is the New United Nations. So, I wash my hands of you now. I leave you to the deserved justice of these other men. Into their hands I now deliver you, Officer Hess. I fear God will be far less accommodating than any of us, no matter what manner of fate is to take you on this day from this world.”

  With that, the Old Man began shuffling his way toward the door that led to the outside hall. Mac called out after him.

  “Sir…Mr. Meyer, what do you want us to do with him?”

  Without looking back, the Old Man replied.

  “Do with him, what your heart and your own sense of justice, would have you do, Mr. Walker. Do what you know must be done. I will wait outside for you.”

  Mac gazed back down at August Hess, whose face finally revealed he sensed his existence was about to conclude. The former arrogance and open contempt were being replaced by fear. Not so much fear though that August Hess could not still manage a small smile as he glared back up onto Mac’s eyes.

  “You can kill me today, but I’ve left a little gift for you, Mr. Walker. One you can’t return. One that will reveal itself to you soon enough.”

  Mac shook his head slowly at August Hess and then looked to Bear. The big man was barely controlling the rage he felt toward the operations officer.

  “Bear, I’m gonna step back and let you have your say with this thing here…Officer Hess. You say what you want to say, and none of us will get in your way.”

  Bear locked eyes with Mac, wanting to make certain he understood him correctly. Mac gave a short nod and began moving backwards away from the New United Nations special operations officer.

  Bear spun Hess around to face him, his left hand grasping the operations officer’s throat. Hess immediately began choking.

  ‘It was your kind, your government who killed my family. You killed my father, my mother - you killed her spirit. You took our business, our life. Your taxes, your rules, your regulations, your mandates. You killed all those people in Texas, thousands of them who just wanted to be left alone. All you do is destroy. And then you had to come up here! Why couldn’t you just leave us the hell alone?” WHY?”

  As Bear screamed the word why, his massive right fist slammed into the face of August Hess, snapping the officer’s head back each time. The question was repeated over and over again and each time Bear’s fist struck until eventually nothing was left of Hess’s nose and his mouth was no more than a bloodied slash across his face. Both eyes were swollen completely shut. Both cheeks fractured and bleeding profusely. And still, Bear’s punches did not lessen. If anything, they increased in both speed and intensity as he continued to scream out WHY until finally, Hess’s forehead splintered apart and blood poured from his ears. Only then did Bear stop and look at his right fist, completely soaked in blood, before looking back to the now lifeless body of August Hess.

  Bear released his grip on Hess’s throat and watched as the body fell sideways from the chair and onto the floor. Mac stepped toward Bear and placed a hand on the large man’s shoulder.

  “How’s your hand?”

  Bear opened and closed his right fist.

  “Fine. I’m fine, Mac. I wanna…I just wanna see my wife. My kids.”

  Mac looked back at me and motioned for us to start making our way outside.

  “Sure thing, Bear, let’s do that.”

  Halfway down the pathway that led to the blast door we caught up with Alexander Meyer, who was resting. The Old Man was coughing again, but waved away any attempts to help him.

  “I told you, I am walking out of here…on my own.”

  Slowly we progressed up the path and to the first blast door - or the place where it had once stood. Nothing of it remained, having been wiped out by the drone bombs. The further we went, the louder the cheers from the outside became until finally, the three of us were welcomed by the remaining survivors of Dominatus who had remained at the staging area outside the cave’s entrance that overlooked the valley below us.

  Dublin greeted her grandfather with a long hug, tears streaming down her face. Clancy Tedlow reached out to grasp her husband, who in turn kissed her back as their two children hugged his legs. Keith walked quickly up to Mac, his eyes wide.

  “Come over here, Mac! It’s amazing! There’s so many of them down there! I can’t believe how many!”

  Mac stopped and looked back at the Old Man, who was struggling for breath again.

  “Mr. Meyer, these people are here because of Dominatus. They’re here because of you. Please, I’d be honored to walk behind you sir.”

  The remaining inhabitants of Dominatus grew silent as Alexander David Meyer made his way slowly, leaning heavily on the arm of his granddaughter, toward the area that would allow him to have an unobstructed view of the valley below.

  When he arrived at that spot, the Old Man looked down at a throng of people…thousands and thousands waving American flags, and cheering those of us who had emerged from the cave. Just four hundred yards from them lay the charred remains of the final drone Mac had shot down.

  The sight of all of those people stunned the Old Man. His shaking hands flew to his mouth as his frail shoulders shook with sobs, tears streaming from eyes that had lived long enough to be witness to the tyranny of the Nazis, and the tyranny of the New United Nations nearly a hundred years later. His head shook from side to side as he gave thanks to God. None of us moved, sensing the generations-deep emotion that had overtaken the Old Man.

  Finally his head rose, while tears still streamed down his cheeks, and he looked to Dublin and then to Mac before speaking, each word growing stronger than the next.

  “I am not worthy of this. No, Mr. Walker, they did not come here for me. They came for America! This day, is the beginning of the new beginning. This day, America will be reborn. What once was, will be again. This day…is the Second American Revolution!”

  The Old Man then turned to look at me, his eyes full of admiration and gratitude. He motioned for me to stand next to him, whispering in my ear.

  “Mr. Reese Neeson, it was your words that brought them here. Don’t ever forget that. You have given a voice to the voiceless. Thank you for what you have done for us, Mr. Neeson.

  “Your father…would be proud.”

  EPILOGUE

  April 19th, 2067

  Outside the entrance to a simple cabin in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness, sits an inscription carved upon a stone that states the following:

  Here lies the body of Alexander David Meyer

  Father of the Second American Revolution

  “The beginning of the new beginning”

  More recently, I have made certain to journey here at this time each year, to pay my respects and visit the place American history now regards as the home of a great man – a provider of freedom and liberty. The names and memories of that now long ago time visit me too at this cabin…Mac and Bear, Keith, Dr. Miller and others. And of course, Dublin.

  Following our departure from the cave on that day, some thirty years ago, the Old Man returned to his cabin, miraculously left undamaged from the drone strikes. Perhaps its location within the shadow of large trees kept it from being known, or perhaps it was some divine intervention. Or perhaps… it was just simple luck.

  Regardless, Alexander Meyer was placed back into his own bed in his much loved study, surrounded by the photos of a life both incredibly long and well lived. In his final hours, as Dublin held his left hand, his other hand clutched the photograph of his beloved Adina.

  His breathing became more labored, until eventually Dr. Miller indicated to Dublin that it was no longer a matter of days, but mere hours. In the final moments of his life, Alexander David Meyer opened his eyes and looked at his granddaughter with full comprehension and even greater love. He smiled and then simply fell into a deep sleep that ended less than an hour later
with his final breath.

  The weeks, months, and years that followed the Old Man’s death proved the most extraordinary times of my life, spanning many thousands of miles, and introducing me to so many others who, like those of Dominatus, sought freedom from the tyranny of the mandates, and the oppression of global governance.

  I am now nearly the age Mac was when I first met the former Navy SEAL all those years ago – the man I came to know as my second father, the one who taught me the way of the gun and the fist. The one who I gladly joined in carrying on the fight of the Second American Revolution to its necessary conclusion – the defeat of the New United Nations. It was a journey that took Mac, Dublin, myself and others across a vast continent where each of us faced seemingly insurmountable odds and frightening challenge, and where death was a constant companion.

  Looking down at the Old Man’s grave, I recalled that story too…

  End.

  TUMULTUS

  (Sequel to DOMINATUS)

  By D.W. Ulsterman

  2013

  “When dictatorship is a fact – revolution becomes a right.”

  -Victor Hugo

  PROLOGUE:

  September, 2039

  Following the successful defense of Dominatus two years earlier, the ten thousand strong who had arrived in support of that tiny Alaskan community grew in numbers in the days and weeks following that conflict until finally, a massive, marching crowd of over thirty thousand Alaskans took to the streets of Fairbanks demanding full autonomy from the mandates of the New United Nations.

  Mackenzie Walker, the then seventy-three year old former Navy SEAL who had for nearly twenty years called Dominatus his home, working diligently to protect both it and its residents, led what became known as the bloodless revolution of Fairbanks Alaska. A surprising number of local authorities took up the cause of the freedom fighters, throwing down their New United Nations positions and instead joining friends and neighbors in the attempt to remove the yoke of oppression that was life under the global mandates. Those who wished to remain loyal to the New United Nations were allowed the opportunity to leave Fairbanks.

  Only a very few chose to do so.

  Within days, Fairbanks Alaska was once again a place of freedom – a city whose officials quickly took oaths in support of the Constitution of the former United States of America. This declaration was then followed in other areas of Alaska until, within just a few more months, even Anchorage and finally Juneau, embraced the rising tide of liberty.

  Alaska declared itself free from the New United Nations.

  Stories of how the citizens of Alaska took back their home state spread quickly, despite aggressive attempts by N.U.N. authorities to block communications regarding the successful revolution. Similar uprisings soon followed in and around Great Falls, Montana, Preston, Idaho, and Rock Springs, Wyoming. These in turn were mirrored in other locations across the former United States, though as the numbers of uprisings grew, so too did the increasingly violent response from the New United Nations authorities. After a three day standoff between nearly two thousand freedom fighters and one hundred N.U.N. compliance officers just outside Carson City, Nevada, a series of drone bombings were initiated that left thousands dead and injured, and thousands more unwilling to continue the fight for fear of receiving a similar fate. While freedom and liberty were winning the hearts and minds of the revolution, the New United Nations continued to dominate the skies with its vast and deadly drone capabilities.

  And yet, still more pockets of resistance sprung up across the Lower 48. Initially, this resistance was disjointed, sometimes unsuccessful, but slowly, as months turned to years, it grew in both numbers and strength. Reese Neeson, himself a Dominatus survivor, continued his series of short wave radio programs, transmitting a message of hope that if more would be willing to stand against the tyranny of the New United Nations, yet more would join that cause, and freedom and liberty would soon follow.

  The drone bombings were increased. Fort Collins, Colorado was witness to nearly twelve thousand murdered by the drones. Yuma, Arizona saw another seven thousand freedom fighters slain. And in Stockton, California, home to the largest New United Nations re-education facility in America, over twenty thousand men, women, and children were dumped into what was a massive and horrific incineration device. The victims’ ashen smoke remnants hung over Stockton like a morbid, low hanging cloud for days after. It was this heinous act in California that successfully stalled what the Old Man of Dominatus had hoped for just two years earlier – the Second American Revolution. People once again grew fearful of opposing the tyranny of the New United Nations.

  Still, freedom fighters throughout what was once America pressed on, refusing to give up. Just three weeks following the inhumanity of what was by then being called the Stockton Massacre, word arrived from the newly reformed Texas Resistance – a group of nearly fifty thousand freedom fighters who were preparing to do in Texas what had been done in Alaska – win back their freedom. Not only in their own state of Texas, but throughout all of the former United States, and the world. The leader of the Texas Resistance sent a secret message to the survivors of Dominatus, hoping to secure their aid in obtaining a rumored weapon residing in the desolate outpost of Churchill, Manitoba. This weapon was said to have the potential of decimating the drone empire of the New United Nations, a weapon currently under the protection of a mysterious priest.

  “Please secure weapon and transport safely to location in Texas. Priest is expecting your arrival. More details there. Without your help, the revolution will likely fail. We intend to bring back freedom to Texas and America and then the world. Where you have already led, and where we now hope to lead, others will follow. To do so, we must have that weapon. Make way to Churchill, Manitoba as quickly as possible.

  Beware Seekers.”

  -Royce Calhoun / Texas Resistance

  I.

  Mac despised hospitals. Hated the smell. The lighting. The sense of impending sickness and death.

  Throughout his seventy five years, he had managed to avoid them with but very few exceptions.

  Unfortunately, today was one of those exceptions.

  A few months after the defense of Dominatus, he had felt the occasional shot of pain from deep in his chest when taking a breath. Initially, these moments were far and few between, but over the last year, he noted them coming much more regularly until finally, they were waking him up at night.

  These pains were now accompanied by a cough that would worsen, and then improve, but never entirely go away. It was Dr. Lester Miller, another Dominatus survivor, who when noting Mac’s cough two weeks ago during a dinner with other former residents of Dominatus, requested the former Navy SEAL stop by the medical clinic he had recently started in Juneau.

  Mac had insisted his cough was nothing, but Dr. Miller persisted to the point of begging Mac to stop by. Something in Mac knew the doctor was right – his dislike of hospitals be damned.

  His initial visit to the clinic was three days ago. Dr. Miller listened intently to his breathing, took all forms of fluid samples, and finally, multiple chest x-rays. The doctor told Mac to come back at the end of the week to go over the results of the initial examination.

  And so, there sat Mackenzie Walker atop an examination table inside a small room awaiting the return of his old friend and personal physician. His cough actually seemed to have improved in recent days – only flaring up a few times a day. The pain inside his chest was still felt from time to time, though even that seemed to have diminished somewhat.

  The door to the examination room opened.

  “Mac, how are you feeling today?”

  Dr. Lester Miller was now in his late 60’s, a man born from poverty who had worked his way through college to eventually become one of the most prominent kidney specialists in the United States – a Nobel Prize winner in medicine. Soon after emerging as one of the most influential opponents of the federal government’s takeover of healthcare though, he found hi
mself stripped of his medical license, and banished from the profession. The doctor had described it to Reese Neeson during their interview over two years ago in Dominatus by simply saying, “Everything changed in this country after Obamacare.”

  Mac shrugged as Dr. Miller sat in a small chair placed in the corner of the examination room.

  “Well, I guess that depends on what you have to tell me, Doc. And don’t bullshit me, ok? None of that soft landing crap. Let me hear it.”

  Dr. Miller folded his hand on his lap, a small smile creeping across his dark skinned face.

  “I know, Mac. I wouldn’t try that with you.”

  Mac straightened up and looked the doctor in the eye, holding his gaze there for several seconds.