Black Flag Rising: A James Jackson Thriller

by Jesse Russell

  As they pulled up, his sister came out with a cart, and they laid him on it. He told her what to do with the kelp and drip and gave her a hug. “Please keep him in isolation and tell no one what happened to him. Not until we get this thing finished,” Adam cautioned.

  “Thanks, Adam. It looks as if you saved this place,” she replied.

  “Just take care of him. We gotta go,” Adam said as he hurried back into the UAV.

  The chopper was flying at near full speed and Brad checked the fuel. Two-thirds gone.

  “This had better be them, we’re getting low on fuel,” he shouted over the rotor noise.

  “Amen, bro,” Tom replied.

  The UAV was speeding through town, dodging traffic on the way up the canyon. They blew past Slippery Rock and had to slow down as the twists and turns began getting very sharp.

  Ryan radioed in. “I got you. You are one mile south. Slow down.”

  Jackson crawled in back and got into the shooting stand. He hit the switches and the back end opened up.

  They slowed and turned off the strobes. They rounded two more curves and there it was, off on the right at a Scenic Overlook. Adam stopped the UAV and looked up through binoculars.

  One of the front tires was flat. There were several men standing around, smoking and pacing. One was down looking at the tire. They noticed an old man with a long beard, sitting in the passenger seat of the Border Patrol Tahoe.

  Guns hot. Jackson was in back with the Israeli TAR Bullpup up and ready, behind the Kevlar Shield. They slowly rolled up next to them.

  One of the Moon Gods walked in front and one to the side. Adam had his hand on his .50 caliber as he rolled down the right-side window. “Having a problem, guys?”

  The Moon God pulled up a long saber, and Adam double-tapped him right between the eyes. His head exploded like a rotten cantaloupe.

  He hit the accelerator and ran over the one in front just as he pulled out another scimitar. Thump thump.

  A terrorist speedbump.

  He stopped again and backed up. There was one Moon God on his hands and knees under the semi as Jackson opened up on him. Three down.

  The remaining group came roaring at them with guns blazing.

  Some had scimitars and others had AKs.

  Jackson shouted, “There's a bunch of them!”

  He mowed down two, but the others scattered up into the rocks and trees. The old man hustled out of the van and went down into the ravine on the other side.

  Adam jumped out with his Uzi and ran up into the rocks.

  Jackson sat and started taking rounds. They were bouncing off the Kevlar, but one made it through the slot and hit the seat inches from his side.

  He pulled the mounted NV over and saw several moving objects. He wasn't sure where Adam was.

  He fired a few more rounds, but the boulders were hiding them well.

  “Chopper, where are you?” he clicked. “Adam, where are you?”

  Nothing. The damn battery had died in the ear set. He sat in the back, exposed; the only thing saving him was a clear piece of Kevlar.

  Shots were coming at him faster and closer now. He shot off a few rounds to keep them at bay, but he knew he couldn't hold out much longer.

  He saw flashes of gunfire off to his right and figured it was Adam. He couldn't last forever either. The rounds were coming at them hotter and faster. They were stuck, and it was quickly becoming a nightmare.

  Just then, he heard a muffled whump whump coming off in the distance. He looked up and saw a bright beacon streaming down on the canyon. “Thank you, Lord!” he shouted.

  All the guns suddenly began shooting straight up, and the chopper pulled up and banked. At least they were pulling the fire away.

  Up above, Tom and George crawled out onto the machine gun stands and checked their ammo belts.

  George pumped his fist. “Hooeee! Let's kill us some damn freakboys, Tom! I been waiting twenty-five years for this!!!”

  They came straight up the road with the mounted searchlight leading the way. It was a sixteen-hundred-watt, thirty-million-candlepower NightSun unit - the same kind that are on Black Hawks. It turned the road into near daylight, enough to blind the bastards and focus their attention on them.

  The bad guys opened up with guns at the chopper, as Adam ran as fast as he could up the road.

  “I'm running up ahead! Don't hit me!” he shouted into his comms.

  “10-4. We got you buddy!” Brad replied.

  As Adam was running north, he saw someone running down into the river canyon to the right. “I got the old man down here.”

  “Take him out.”

  He ran down and disappeared after him.

  Tom and George were hanging outside the chopper, unleashing hell up and down the sides of the road. Smoke and shells poured out of the GE units. Between the mini-guns and the chopper blades, the sound was deafening.

  They strafed down both sides of the road, and stopped when they got to the UAV. Brad circled around and came back towards the two vehicles. They opened up again and devastated both sides of the road. Nothing could survive. Not even a gecko could live through this barrage.

  They halted fire and pulled up. Jackson climbed back up in front of the UAV and grabbed his Uzi and another mag of .50 cal for the Desert Eagle. He cracked the door open and peeked out. He took a cautious step out as a hand reached up and grabbed his ankle. It was like a vice, and he couldn't shake free.

  He looked down and saw a large skull tattoo on the forearm gripping tight. Just then, a knife appeared and slashed his Achilles. Blood started spurting everywhere. He aimed his Desert Eagle at the asshole, but he had quickly crawled back under and hid behind a tire. He clutched his ankle, trying to stop the bleeding.

  “Damn! Adam! I'm cut!!!” he shouted.

  He heard a scream from under the truck, and Adam popped his head out.

  “Got him, but he’s still breathing. I figure we could use one alive to interrogate. But I lost the old bastard. It was too rocky and dark. He’ll get his down there from the bears and javelina anyway.”

  Adam got in and pulled open a storage hatch and grabbed a medical supply kit, and handed a tourniquet to Jackson.

  “Wrap that thing tight as you can, buddy. I’ll drag Moon Boy out.”

  He hauled the bleeding terrorist out from under the rig and shoved him onto his stomach. He pulled a set of zip ties out and cuffed him tight.

  He radioed the chopper. “We got a bleeder down here. I also have a prisoner. Come down and pick them up! I'll drive the UAV out, then you blow this bitch to the moon. “Give me a few minutes to check and see what is in there.”

  They dropped down and put out the EVAC cables. Adam helped Jackson hobble over, and he grabbed hold as they pulled him up. Then, they lowered it down again and Adam hooked up the prisoner and they pulled him up.

  Adam crept back low and looked into the cavernous trailer. He slowly raised his head and peeked in. There were barrels. Maybe twenty to twenty-five of them in the front end of trailer. They were large, maybe a hundred gallons each. He pulled himself up and in. He cautiously moved up to the first row. He pulled out a mini-cam and turned on the flashlight. He looked at the label. It said Sodium Triflouroacetate. He shot several pics and filmed a couple minutes showing the span of the barrels.

  He clicked, “Ryan, look this up. I’ll forward you a picture, too.”

  “Roger.”

  They waited a couple of minutes, then Ryan clicked back on.

  “It’s Rat Poison. How much is in there?”

  “Tons of it. What the hell?”

  “Hang on.” The line went quiet. “It’s on Homeland Security and the CDC’s sites as a potential terrorism threat. Dumping it into a water supply could kill a ton of people,” Ryan said.

  “Holy….” Adam replied as he backed out carefully.

  “Look and see if there is any threat to blowing it up or burning it,” Adam said.

  “Hang on.”

  Ryan c
ame back a couple of minutes later, “It is not a problem burning it, if the fire is hot enough. It will dissipate rather quickly.”

  “Alright guys, give me a couple minutes to get out in the UAV, then rain all hell down on it.”

  They flew one last pass up and back on the highway to make sure no one was coming. Thankfully, it was all clear.

  Brad pulled up to safe altitude as Tom got multiple stingers prepped. George reloaded the mini-gun drums, and checked wind speed. “All right, Brad. We are hot back here.”

  He pulled up off slightly south to avoid being directly over the top. “Let 'er rip.”

  Tom pulled up the Stinger, got all greens, and let it go. The missile went strafing down hot, right at the side of the trailer. The entire semi folded into itself and cratered down. A massive fireball mushroomed out and up. Brad banked away as the heat came peeling over them and into the open doors.

  “Move! Turn out!” Tom was shouting from the back.

  Shards of metal and burning rubber were hurtling past the chopper as they peeled off to the south.

  “Direct hit.”

  They hovered to the south for a few minutes to watch the fire. It was roaring like a massive bonfire.

  Eventually, it let up and turned into a pile of ashes and burned rubber. Nothing remained. “Radio the locals and tell them what was in there. They need to close the road and get someone in there that knows what that stuff was,” Tom said.

  “Roger that!” Brad said.

  They flew south towards Sedona Airport, almost out of gas.

  George was hanging out the door, shouting as he looked back, “Take that, you dirty mutts from hell!!”

  76

  The Sikorsky landed on the Scottsdale Airport helicopter tarmac. Outside, throngs of local, national, and international press were waiting in a press conference area.

  The chopper blades slowed and wound down as the National Guard protection came up and opened the door. The stairs came down. Out walked George with Lindsey and Liza, Adam and his wife, Ryan, Tom and Julia, with Manuela and Marguerite. Brad came out with his ears still on. Finally, Jackson and Sam followed, with Payton and Jackie.

  The huge crowd cheered and waved signs. Sheriff John, the popular local lawman, was there to shake everyone's hand and to thank them. So was the Gila County sheriff and all the deputies. It was quite a receiving line.

  The women and kids all went into the building, with the rest staying outside at the microphones. Jackson bent down, hugged the kids goodbye, and stepped up onto the platform with Sam.

  Sheriff John stepped to the microphone.

  “Today, we honor these brave men and women. They have performed a great act that has not only saved our beloved Valley, but also the entire country. We owe them all a lifetime debt of gratitude. May I introduce them to you please. I will now read their names. May they be forever remembered by all of us.

  “James Jackson, former Director of the Arizona State Patrol Intelligence Unit and his wife, Samantha.

  “George Hansen, retired FBI Arizona Station Chief.

  “Ryan Roberts, Student at Grand Canyon University.

  “Adam Brunell, Former Intelligence Officer, Arizona State Patrol.

  “Tom Bartholomew, Deputy Sheriff, Gila County.

  “Brad Bartholomew, Fire and Rescue, Gila County.

  “They alone, along with their families, and with no help from our Federal government whatsoever, stopped this terrible terrorist act, using mostly instinct methods and good, old-fashioned policework. We mourn those that didn't make it. Our hearts are heavy for them and their families. Yet today, we celebrate the bravery of these great men and women.

  “I would also like to mention the following, for their efforts in participating as well:

  “Barry Yant, radio host, KFB Radio.

  “Ibrahim Yusef, Janitor of West Valley Islamic Center, who alerted us all.

  “Ahmed Mohammed, Student, Deer Valley High, who risked death to alert us all.

  “Julia Ford and her children, Marguerite and Manuel.

  “Tracey Brent, Radio Host, and her army of listeners for getting the word out nationwide.

  “Gila County Sheriff and Fire and Rescue.”

  “Dumitru Viera, who was near death in Bac, Moldova, and His brother, Andrei Viera, who spoke up and warned others.”

  All were in the crowd, and the cameras panned as they each waved.

  “Also Lindsay and Liza Hansen, George's daughter and granddaughter.”

  He even mentioned Jose' Gonzales, George's neighbor, who was sitting in a wheelchair with his little demon dog Pakito in his lap, waving at the crowd.

  “These are our heroes. Brave men and women who refused to accept defeat, going up against a darkness and hate we know and face with regularity. Ignoring political correctness to act above and beyond their daily lives, and perform heroic things most of us could never imagine.”

  “Now, some may not like what I am about to say next, but not only will I say it, I am urging everyone to wake up and be aware of what we are up against...

  “There are very dangerous people in this country and the world. The Elites. They are actively working to undermine this great country. They will use whatever means necessary to accomplish this feat. In our case, they were actively fomenting a limited nuclear attack on us. The reason? Only they know.

  “I would venture to say that it is to create chaos, so they can implement full control over all of us. They will not stop any time soon. They run the media. They run the levers of the Federal government.

  “Hate and Division are their weapons. Political Correctness are their tools of silencing dissent. They will stop at nothing to achieve their utopian vision of this country and the entire world.

  “Some will say we are too old, too stupid, or too religious to know what we are talking about. I say, they are wrong about us. You have just seen what happens when brave men and women stand against them.

  “I encourage everyone to do your own homework and refuse to surrender to them. Never, ever surrender. We all must stand up to them and they must be defeated or we will all be finished. They will not stop with this. There will be more coming. Stand up and fight or be run over.

  “Now, enough from me. I think we all want to hear from the real heroes here.” He motioned over to the crew.

  George walked up the microphone.

  “Thank you all for coming today. We are not heroes. We only did what anyone who had this information would. We are honored that you all came out today. And guess what? We kicked their ratty asses, didn't we?” He shouted the last part into the mic.

  The crowd roared as George smiled and waved. The group shook their heads, grinning, then the rest of them walked up and thanked everyone for coming out.

  Finally, Jackson spoke.

  “I am only a man. With faults. Just like everyone else. I have made my mistakes, but I woke up and made a change. I was dragged into this thing against my will and I am thankful I was. I did not want it. None of us want this, but we have no choice now. It is time for every single good, decent American to stand up and prepare. This is only the beginning.

  “Together, we can all make a difference. I thank you all for your support. But more important is what happens from now forward. I have two young kids. Many of you do as well. Some have grandkids, like George here. You can honor us all by waking up, staying informed, and making a difference in your communities. Thank you all for coming.”

  The crowd roared in approval. The crew stepped down and started walking towards the terminal. Cameras were being shoved in their faces, questions shouted at them from every reporter.

  “Are you saying that the US Government was involved in this plot? Are you accusing the President of being in on this? What are you saying about the government?”

  Everyone kept walking. Sheriff’s Deputies and the National Guard were pushing everyone away.

  In the crowd, there were two men and a woman. Paid agitators. They were tweeting out messages wi
th images they had taken with their phones.

  ‘Racist press conf in AZ.’

  ‘Here at the racist press conf.’

  ‘We must stop these haters.’

  George and Ryan walked over and grabbed beers. Everyone else was taking champagne flutes from the servers walking around. They were clinking glasses as the band kicked into Kool and Gang’s Celebrate.

  Sam took two of the champagne glasses and looked at Jackson. She reached over to hand one to him. He shook his head and grabbed a water out of an ice bucket.

  “Well, things have changed, haven't they?” Sam said.

  “I guess you could say that,” Jackson responded.

  “I like that change,” she said.

  “So do I,” he replied.

  She reached her hand over and put it around his.

  “I am so proud of you. And everyone else. You deserve everything you are getting,” she said.

  “Well...” he hesitated.

  “And if you play your cards right, there might be something else you will be getting in the future. If... you are still interested,” she hinted.

  “That would be nice. I could develop some interest in that,” he replied.

  She snuggled up next to him, and the kids were hanging on to both of them.

  They all lined up for a group shot. Cameras were flashing everywhere. The crew were all meeting and talking with the other guys, who they were finally meeting for the first time; Dumitru, Andrei, Barry, Ahmed, Ibrahim, and others. The press was an unruly mob outside, trying to muscle in. They were shouting and filming through the glass, but everyone ignored them, high-fiving and celebrating inside.

  Sam turned to Jackson and the kids and said, “Guys, what do you say we all go home?”

  Epilogue

  Jackson moved back home. He took one of the extra bedrooms, as he and Sam worked through their relationship. The kids were thrilled that he was back in their lives again. He hadn't touched a drink in months. Things were progressing nicely between he and Sam, but she would not let him back in the bedroom until she was sure of permanent change in him.