PROJECT BlueBolt - AMERICAN GULAGS: BOOK I - AMERICAN GULAGS

by Marshall Huffman

  CHAPTER THIRTY -ONE

  The President sat at the middle of the table with the ISS Director and the various Battalion ISS heads. Also present was General Douglas, Chief of Combined Military Operations and Jack Ekman, the Media Czar.

  “We are coming up on almost one year since we initiated BlueBolt. I would like a status report from every division,” President Clemons said starting the meeting, “Let’s start with you Mr. Cox. You are head of Battalion 102, correct?”

  “Yes Madam President. Our report is fairly short. We have reduced crime by twenty-five percent. Gangs are the biggest factor. We have gone after them with a vengeance. We have reduced the numbers significantly and intend to keep the pressure on. We will do so until they are eliminated. The second biggest reduction comes in ridding our nation of illegal aliens. We deport them the first time but if they enter the second time they are disposed of,” he told her.

  “What about the wall between us and Mexico?”

  “It is coming along very well. We have had a shortage of the listening devices that are placed underground but other than that it has gone smoothly. We expect it to be fully functional within six or seven months.”

  “Excellent. Ms. Richards? Battalion 103.”

  “Our report is much the same. As you know, 103 is the cleanup crew. Once someone is removed from a house we go in and clean up any evidence that ISS was involved. For the most part it is just routine work. The only challenge is when there are too many witnesses who could cause distress on the administration. If we can handle it without further compromising the administration we simply take care of the problem. If it is too difficult we call in Battalion 104 to either assist or take over the operation.

  The one thing we are lacking at this point, is enough agents. We are spread extremely thin. So far we have responded to over 75,000 different situations. Each one takes several agents and several hours,” she told the President.

  “And what are you doing about that?”

  “We are trying to get recruits but the background checks take an inordinate amount of time. Obviously we can’t just hire someone off the street and that is the major problem. Finding people who are not only qualified but have the proper clearance is challenging.”

  “I see. Alright. Taylor and I can discuss this at a later time. Thank you. 104,” she said referring to the Removal Squad.

  “We have been going non-stop. To date we have made 88,543 raids. Obviously many of these were in support of 101 but 88.6 percent were operations calling for our expertise. We have moved 76,344 people to internment camps as of this morning. We are processing another one hundred or so. On top of that we have confiscated one million, three-hundred thousand more guns, bringing the total to one million, nine-hundred and fifty-six thousand weapons out of the hands of private citizens.”

  “While that is an impressive number and every little bit helps, you do realize it is estimated that there are close to three-hundred million arms in the United States alone.”

  “Yes ma’am but our first response has been to help get rid of the gangs. They do not register their weapons so getting them is harder. We can go after the others later. We know where they live. It’s the illegal ones that are the hardest to dig up,” she told the President.

  “Keep on it. I agree with you, gangs first. We can get the rest later. What about FS?” she said turning to the man next to the head of ISS, Taylor Spears.

  “We operate only under specific circumstances. When a high profile person needs to be taken out, we perform the operation. So far we have handled fifty-three incidents. None have been called into question. Obviously we vary our methods so no pattern emerges. We don’t want some overzealous cop some place putting two and two together.”

  “I assume Governor Quinn and that police commissioner were some of your work?” she asked.

  “Absolutely. Quinn’s was staged to look like he has going to buy drugs. They found cocaine in his system and several packets on his person. The dealer was found and admitted he had sold drugs to Quinn for several years. Unfortunately, he was murdered while in holding.”

  “And the police commissioner?”

  “Accidental drowning in his back yard pool. He was diving off the side and his foot slipped. He hit his head and fell in the water. His wife discovered him when she came home two hours later.”

  “Taylor, I have to say, I am overall well pleased with the progress to date. That doesn’t mean that I want to let up for one second.”

  “Believe me we haven’t. We are busier than ever. The new program we initiated about turning in people that were anti-government has netted over twelve thousand arrests. We give a five hundred reward to anyone who turns someone in. The ‘turn in a gun holder’ program is also working well. We have changed the original program. Initially we were going to give each person a thousand dollars for each gun as a tax break per your televised speech. We have modified that somewhat. We do collect the gun but instead of giving them money we go back a few weeks later and arrest them, getting them into internment before they know what hit them. It saves us the money and we still get the guns.

  “I like that Taylor. That is an excellent change to the original program. Just keep it up. I assume we have plenty of room still for dissidents.”

  “Absolutely. We haven’t even scratched the surface in terms of space.”

  “Very good.”

  “General Douglas, what is going on with the military?”

  “Honestly we are pretty quiet. You already know we do the actual guarding at the internment camps. We have had to put some of our own people in them from time to time for refusing to follow orders. They only get the one chance and then they are immediately court martialed and sent to a camp. I am not going to allow any malcontents in the military. They will follow orders or find themselves behind the barbwire fences they once manned,” he told her.

  “Then ladies and gentlemen we are going to make another minor change. We are going to limit the number of people who can assemble without a permit issued by the ISS. Tony you will need to start a new department to handle that sort of thing. Obviously some items will get rubber stamped, sporting events, government rallies, and that sort of thing. Others will require a permit to gather. Last week we had four or five groups protesting in front of the White House and on Capitol Hill. I want that to end. The permit is to set a limit to a reasonable amount and it will be strictly enforced.”

  “A reasonable amount? What is a reasonable amount?” Taylor asked.

  “I should think fifty or there about.”

  “Fifty,” he repeated.

  “Do you have a problem with that?”

  “I think we are going to get a lot of flak.”

  “Taylor, no one will ever know. Set it at fifty,” she said.

  “Yes ma’am,” Taylor replied.

  ****

  General Thomas Waggoner and Admiral Lincoln Bix had driven non-stop to Riverton, Wyoming where they were hoping to find General Lance Uber. They had taken mostly back roads whenever possible. On two occasions they had actually had to find way around road blocks by going over land. It was obvious that the ISS had not forgotten about them.

  They finally made it to Riverton, Wyoming exhausted. They found a small mom & pop hotel and crashed for almost twelve hours before deciding to start their search for General Uber.

  “Here is all I could get. His wife was left a cabin about ten miles outside of Riverton. It’s on a dirt road and is fairly high up in the mountains.”

  “Smart. He thinks like us. Hold the high land.”

  “It sure helps keep an eye on who is coming,” Bix said.

  “He also mentioned one time that he liked the place but there weren’t many trees and he hated the damn airplanes that took off and landed nearby.”

  “Well that should help. How many airports can there be in this place?”

  “Let’s find out,” Thomas suggested.

  It wasn’t hard. There was just the Riverton Regional Airport. Th
ey got directions and headed out. Bix was driving and Thomas was keeping an eye out for roads that took off up hills.

  Ten minutes later Thomas pointed at a small dirt road.

  “What the hell,” Bix said and turned the Jeep up the grade. The road was full of ruts and the car even in four wheel drive slipped and slid fighting for purchase. They came around a sharp corner and saw a fairly run down cabin. An older man was sitting in a rocking chair with a shotgun across his lap.

  “What do you think?”

  “Well it’s not Uber, that’s for sure.”

  “No, I meant do you think he will shoot first and ask questions later?” Thomas asked.

  “Ah. Why don’t you get out and see. You are in the passenger seat after all.”

  “Gee, thanks a lot.”

  “Think nothing of it,” Lincoln replied.

  Thomas got out holding his hands up.

  “That’s far enough,” the old man said.

  “Yes sir. Look, we’re friends with a guy named Lance Uber. I’m...I was General Thomas Waggoner. Admiral Lincoln Bix is in the driver’s seat. We need to find Lance before the ISS gets to him.”

  “ISS. Those boys already been here. Came sniffing around two or three times. How do I know you are who you say you are and aren’t just working for the ISS?”

  “I guess you don’t. All I can tell you is we did the same thing Lance did. We high tailed it out and are now considered fugitives just like he is. We are trying to get with people who don’t go along with the government’s new policies,” Thomas told him.

  “You boys is in a heap of hurt. You know that? They are looking high and low for all of you.”

  “Yeah. We are considered traitors.”

  “And that is just the polite term they used when they were here.”

  “Did they offer you a reward for us or Lance?”

  “Sure did. Ten thousand for each one. They even said dead or alive was okay with them. Imagine that? I could just shoot you and I would be twenty thousand richer,” he said standing up.

  “I really wish you wouldn’t do that,” Thomas said.

  “Oh, hell. I don’t want those asswipe’s money. I don’t need it that bad, I can tell you that. You are safe with me. Come on in and I can show you where Lance is stashed away,” he told Thomas.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  “Pretty cool old guy,” Thomas said when they got back in the Jeep.”

  “Don’t care much for the government that’s for sure.”

  “Still. He basically turned down thirty thousand dollars for the three of us. That’s a lot of cash to a guy like that,” Thomas replied.

  “Doesn’t want their blood money. Look we need to put better tires on this thing. They are okay for the highway but we need some with some bite. Let’s stop in Riverton and get something that will get us from point A to point B if someone is on our butts.”

  “I totally agree. We just barely made it up that last incline.”

  When they got to the town the found a Goodyear tire dealer and bought the most aggressive tires that would fit under the Jeep without lifting the body. They would need all the traction they could get. They were headed to an area called Castle Rock, in Freemont County, Wyoming.

  The Jeep was much louder with the fat knobby tires but they both felt it was a good decision. This was especially true when they saw the rugged peaks of the big mountains starting to loom up.

  Mountains distort time. It seems like you drive and drive but never get any closer and then suddenly you are on them. Thomas was starting to get into a driving hypnosis when suddenly he realized they were almost at the point where they would turn off.

  “Holy smokes. We are supposed to take this dirt road for the next twenty-six miles?” Thomas asked.

  “Hey, that’s what the man said.”

  “Man, and I thought your place was out in the boonies. Hell, you practically live in the city by comparison,” Thomas replied.

  “Less talk, more driving,” Lincoln said.

  The narrow road was precarious and had several one hundred and eighty degree turns as they made their way up the mountain. They chugged along in four wheel low for much of the trip. When they got near the top of Castle Rock, they would have to take another turn off and go up an even steeper incline to get to the location they had been given. Finally, just as they cleared a steep rise, they saw the cabin.

  There was a light dusting of snow on the roof and smoke coming out of the chimney. As soon as they stopped, they saw Lance open the cabin door and wave.

  “Well obviously he knew we were coming,” Lincoln said as they got out.

  “Welcome boys. I heard you were on the way. I take it you managed to give the ISS the slip,” he said coming down the steps to greet them.

  They all shook hands and stood there looking out over the landscape.

  “This is staggering,” Lincoln said.

  “Yep. I never get tired of it.”

  “I thought my place was special but this...this is something else,” Thomas added.

  “So you boys are on the run.”

  “So far we have managed to stay ahead of them but the time will come when we move up on their priority list.”

  “You’re right about that. They have their hands full for now but they haven’t forgotten us. I know you boys have been doing some checking but so have I. I know were at least ten others are holed up,”

  “No kidding,” Lincoln said.

  “That is terrific,” Thomas added.

  “We are keeping things compartmentized for now. Some of them know where others are. None of us know everything. It’s better that way.”

  “I totally agree,” Thomas said.

  “Come on in and I’ll fill you in on what I do know,” Lance said leading them into the cabin.

  It was larger inside than it looked. There were four rooms downstairs and a loft that ran all the way around above, overlooking the front room. A row of rifles was positioned along one wall with stacks of ammunition. Some of the more interesting items were six shoulder held missiles, two thirty caliber machineguns and a stack of Claymore mines.

  “Do you have Claymores out now?” Thomas asked.

  “Oh yeah. They are on tripwires. The ones across the road are on clickers. I made some modifications to them myself.”

  “You seem to be well prepared,” Lincoln said.

  “Not really. They could blow my butt up with a drone or a standoff missile if they knew I was here.”

  “So you intend to go out fighting. They aren’t going to come and just take you,” Thomas said.

  “That’s right. If they try that, some of them are going with me, that’s for damn sure,” Lance replied. “Hey, I’ll bet you’re hungry. I got some sandwich stuff. Let’s make something to eat and formulate a plan,” Lance suggested.

  “That’s a winner. I am a tad hungry,” Lincoln agreed.

  ****

  Mark Walker was on the third day of his trip to Idaho. He was in no hurry. After all he was on vacation. He was still somewhat nervous that the ISS could be tracing his movements so he decided to just take his time.

  He pulled into a gas station in Lander, Wyoming. He filled the tank and went inside to buy some snacks. While he was paying, a dark red Jeep Cherokee pulled up to the pumps and three men got out. His mouth about fell open. He was positive he was looking at General Thomas Waggoner. His picture had been in the papers several times and was considered wanted by the ISS as a domestic terrorist. Not only that but he was the same man that had given him the original information about the internment camps. He had even done an article on the General a few years ago when he was being considered for the position of head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.

  Mark wasn’t really sure what to do. If Waggoner really was a terrorist, he could find himself in a really difficult situation. If the ISS was following him and he didn’t do anything then could be in a different kettle of hot water. Either way it wasn’t good.

  He decided his best
course of action was to just slip out, get in his car, and follow them at a discrete distance and see what they were up to. If the ISS was following him he could always tell them he was trying to follow them and find out what they were up to.

  He walked quickly to his car and drove over to the corner of the lot. There was a phone booth there so parked next to it and pretended to be talking while watching them. It was several minutes later when the three came out and drove off.

  They were headed north on 287. Mark followed from a short distance trying to keep at least one car between them but it was difficult. There simply weren’t all that many cars on 287.

  It got a little better when they hit US 26 and the traffic was a little heavier. Mark was starting to get worried as they drove mile after mile with nothing much in sight. His gas tank was starting to nudge below one-quarter full. Finally they pulled in at a two pump run down station in Crowheart, Wyoming.

  Mark had no choice but to stop and get gas. He pulled in on the other side of them and tried to keep his back to them as much as possible.

  “Where are headed?” a voice said behind him.

  He turned and looked into the face of General Thomas Waggoner.

  “Uh...to the Tetons. Just taking in the sights, you know?”

  “No. Not exactly. You’re that reporter, Mark Walker,” Thomas said.

  It was definitely not a question.

  “Well, yes. Do I know you?”

  “Don’t. Please. I hate that crap. You’re Walker and you know very well who I am. So, I’ll ask you again. What are you doing?”

  “Okay. I was really headed to Idaho. I was going to head to New Mexico from there. I’ve heard rumors of internment camps being set up by the government. I wanted to see if it was real or just someone’s conspiracy theory.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why you are following us. We are not headed to New Mexico and neither are you by going this way,”

  By now the other two had joined Thomas and were not pleased at finding out who he was.