Drone Wars 1: The Beginning

by Mike Whitworth

  One of the crewmembers returned to the galley, while the other tended to Toni and Doc. Toni was awake and talking a bit, but Doc was now sound asleep. "I think they are OK, he said."

  "Good," the captain said.

  "Captain," Lorne said. "We had two more people aboard; a man and a woman. We got separated."

  "Aye lad, we'll have a look-see.” He motioned to the crewman. "Hey Pete, let Akbar know to go careful and search the area for them. You man the searchlight. I'll be there in a bit."

  "Aye Captain," Pete said and was up the ladder to the wheelhouse in a flash.

  The search went on until a few hours before dawn. The captain was a careful man. He allowed for the wind and current speed and direction in his search. They found nothing. They were out of the area before the federal search boat showed at first light.

  "He was my friend, even though I had not known him very long," Lorne told the captain.

  "Aye Lad, I know what you mean. I may not look like much as old as I am now, but I was a river patrol boat captain many years ago in a little country called Vietnam. I lost some friends there. I still miss them, even after all these years. One was my older brother."

  Lorne and the captain sat in shared silence as Akbar, the first mate, headed the boat westward towards Corpus Christie, Texas. For many long hours the big, burly, gray-bearded captain and the smaller, trim, and fit Lorne talked while Doc and Toni slept. Finally, only a few hours from Corpus Christie, Lorne fell asleep in his seat. The captain smiled and covered him with a blanket, muttering, "Any man would give his right arm for a son like this one."

  Corpus Christie, Texas

  Doc got into the driver's seat of the car that was waiting for them at the docks in Corpus Christie. Toni got into the front passenger seat. She was still shaken by her ordeal, but insisted on riding shotgun. Lorne was saying his good byes to the shrimp boat captain. Doc turned to Toni and said, "I am really glad you made it," he hesitated for a second. "Mom."

  With no hesitation Toni reached over and hugged Doc. "You are the son I always wanted. Thank you so much for saving me.” There were tears in both of their eyes.

  "Captain, it has been a pleasure," Lorne said. "I owe you my life, and the lives of my two friends."

  "It was nothing lad," the captain said. "I am sorry about your other two friends."

  "As am I," Lorne said. "But I must hope they made it somehow. We will keep looking."

  "Indeed, you are as determined as any man I have ever met," the captain said. "I admire that greatly."

  "And you are an honorable man, Captain; a good American. One I am proud to call my friend."

  "Aye, lad. Friends we are. We shall meet again."

  "Yes," Lorne smiled, "we shall."

  Lorne walked to the car, turned and waved to the captain, and got into the back seat. As he started to settle back into the seat, Toni leaned over the seat and kissed Lorne on the cheek. "Thank you for saving me," Toni said.

  "It was Doc," Lorne said. "I was just there.” When they were under way and Lorne was sure neither Doc or Toni were looking in the rear view mirror, he touched his cheek where Toni had kissed him. He did that several times before he fell asleep. He slept all the way through Texas. They changed cars in Oklahoma, and Lorne fell asleep again once they were under way. By then Toni was driving, and Doc was catnapping in the front passenger seat.

  "Toni glanced at Doc from time to time. She thought her husband Bill would have really liked this young man too. She also glanced in the rear view mirror at Lorne from time to time. She had seen him touch his cheek where she had kissed him before he fell asleep. That left her conflicted. She owed Lorne her life more than once. He was younger than her forty-eight, maybe only a couple of years past thirty. She had not known that he was interested in her. She knew that she didn't look nearly her age, and she knew that she drew male attention wherever she went, but she didn't know what to do about this. She certainly didn't want to hurt Lorne, but she just didn't think of him in that way.

  With Doc, it was simpler. They had a mother and son relationship; one that neither had ever had, and each had always wanted. When she thought about John, the tears began quietly flowing down her cheeks. She cried for Peggy too. She liked her as well. Soon, Toni was crying for Bill, her sister, and niece.

  Toni wasn't sure she was over losing Bill, but she knew she was very attracted to John. That had surprised her. She remembered that first day she had met John on the ranch. Lorne had arranged for her to take care of a Wyoming ranch that he had a part ownership in. The two ranch hands were also members of the organization, and both were hiding out there as well for some reason or another that neither of them ever spoke of. When John drove up, Toni grabbed a rifle and stepped out to meet him. She had seen the truck coming up the driveway and had been watching it for a while. Her previous dislike of guns was long gone. Lorne had taught her to shoot, and she found she enjoyed it; perhaps because of her fantasy of shooting the murderers of her family.

  When the truck door opened and John stepped out, Toni involuntarily relaxed a bit. She didn't feel threatened, even though he was a stranger. He was tall, but not too tall, with wide, muscular shoulders that looked unusually strong. His hair was almost completely gray, yet he looked too young to have gray hair. Then, she noticed the blood on his tee shirt and jeans.

  "Hold it right there, Mister," she said, while wondering about this man who she was immediately attracted to. She made sure that attraction didn't show on her face. It was hard for her to even acknowledge the attraction anyway, because she still missed Bill. Being attracted to another man made her feel guilty.

  It still made her feel guilty. She drove until the tears were gone, but the memories still hurt. That was the problem with memories of lost loved ones. They don't dry up and go away like surface tears. They remain like a constant pain deep below the surface, sometimes bubbling up at unexpected moments.

  "Take the next exit, please," Lorne requested. Toni did as requested. They drove through two small towns and into another one. Lorne gave directions. They ended up in front of a typical, older suburban ranch style house. Lorne said, "Please wait here."

  Lorne walked up to the door and rang the doorbell. In a few seconds, the door opened and, after a brief conversation with the man in the door, Lorne turned and waved Toni to drive toward the garage. The door opened, and she maneuvered the car into the garage. The door closed, and they were out of sight.

  Toni and Doc got out of the car, and walked to the door into the kitchen where they were greeted by Lorne and his friend. "We will stay here for a while," Lorne said.

  "That's good," Toni said. "Where's the bathroom, please?” Lorne's friend motioned down the hallway adjoining the kitchen, so Toni headed in that direction.

  "Doc, this is Ray Stringham."

  "Pleased to meet you," Doc said.

  "Likewise."

  "Make yourself comfortable," Lorne said. "Ray has secure communication capability and I want to find out what's going on in the search for John and Peggy.” Lorne disappeared with Ray into a back room.

  Doc made himself comfortable on a couch in the living room. He knew Lorne would be preoccupied for quite some time. Even though Lorne did his best not to show emotion, Doc knew him well enough to know that he was devastated over the loss of John and Peggy. Soon, Toni joined Doc. They were both tired, so they sat together on the sofa in a comfortable silence.

  About an hour later, Lorne came back in the living room, followed by Ray.

  "What's happening?” Doc asked.

  "Our sources say that there is an ongoing federal police search along the Gulf Coast between Biloxi and Pass Christian. They have many boats in the water, and an absurd number of observation drones, as well as helicopters flying overhead in the Gulf. There is no indication that the feds have found anything yet. It is possible, however, that they have found John and Peggy's remains and are still looking for us. However, we have no confirmation of that."

  "Do you think they go
t away?” Toni asked.

  "I just don't know," Lorne replied. "I hope so."

  "I have a feeling that they escaped. John and Peggy are two of the toughest people I know," Doc said.

  "I hope you're right," Toni replied.

  "Well, there's nothing more we can do here. It is time that we get back to Mississippi," Lorne said. "I have made arrangements for us to take a small plane back to headquarters. Another car will be here soon, and we can use that to drive to the airport."

  Chapter 14: REUNION

  "When all else fails, just do something.” John Debrouillard

  Long Beach, Mississippi

  A minute after I rang the doorbell, I heard faint footsteps and noticed that the light shining through the peephole darkened briefly.

  "Who are you?” A voice said from behind the door. There was no movement of the door or door handle. Just as I suspected, the person in the house—a man from his voice—was cautious.

  "My name is not important," I said. "We need refuge. The government is trying to kill us."

  "Well, that's a new one," the voice behind the door said. "If you try to come in my house, I may be trying to kill you too.” He paused for a bit, "Why did you stop here?” He asked.

  "Because you are a prepper," I said. "I am a prepper too."

  "Are you armed?” The voice asked.

  "No Sir," I said. "Neither of us is armed.” I had ditched my Browning in the Gulf because it was hard to swim with. I didn't know how the Navy Seals managed with all their gear.

  "OK," the voice said. "Come around to the back door and stand at the far edge of the patio until I tell you different. One word of warning though. If you have friends hiding out there and are lying to me, the front door will still be covered. And we will kill anyone who tries to enter."

  "Yes Sir," I said. "That is exactly how I would handle it. We are alone, by the way."

  Peggy and I walked through the side yard to the back patio. The patio was about 20 feet wide and 30 feet long. I was willing to bet that the edge of the patio was a bit more than 21 feet from the back door; because that was the distance someone with a knife can cover before a holstered pistol can be drawn. I showed Peggy how to hold her hands over her head with her palms forward. I did the same. We were standing just like that when the patio light switched on. In a few seconds, an older man opened the door and pointed a 12-gauge riot gun at us. He looked us over for a bit. I could tell Peggy was afraid. I wasn't too worried. I might as well be shot by a citizen as by the government.

  "OK, you two, come in the house, but keep your hands where I can see them.” We complied. We walked through the door into a modest kitchen. I noticed a large pressure canner on a counter and canning jars on the kitchen table.

  "OK," the man said, "how did you know I am a prepper? I have maintained excellent OPSEC. Even my neighbors don't know. Hell, I am not sure my family even realizes I am a prepper."

  I motioned Peggy to a chair at the kitchen table. The man started to put his shotgun down to move the canning jars out of the way. I said. "Let me move the jars. You keep your shotgun handy.” The man looked me in the eye for a few seconds and then leaned the shotgun in the corner.

  "Aw hell, I don't want to kill nobody. I just don't particularly want to get killed."

  "My name is John," I said, and shook his hand. "This is Peggy.” I moved the jars, and he and I sat down at the kitchen table with Peggy.

  "My name is Leon," the man said. "How did you know I am a prepper?"

  "I wasn't positive but, the garden, the fruit trees, the bars on the windows, and the workshop in the yard were good indicators."

  "A lot of folks have those."

  "Yes, they do. But I also recognized that almost every plant in the yard and flower beds is edible or useful as well."

  "So?"

  "So, anyone who is into edible landscaping, security, and self-sufficiency is most likely a prepper."

  "You are saying I gave myself away."

  "Yes sir," I said. "But, so did I.” And I told him my story. It took about fifteen minutes. Leon got all of us some iced tea while I was talking and set a plate of cookies on the table. Peggy ate quite a few cookies.

  After I told my story, he said, "I have read your comments on many prepper and anti-government blogs. Quite a few folks are wondering what happened to the 'RetiredProf'. The rumor on the internet is that it was a drone strike, but the pictures I saw posted of your house on the internet didn't look like an explosion. Now I know why. Many of us have been suspecting that the government was killing people who opposed them for several years now. We have never had proof. I still think that explosion in St. Louis a while back that killed five people and damaged a crap load of houses was a missile strike. Maybe a hellfire missile isn't big enough, but we all know they have other missiles as well. It seems like an awful coincidence to me that the fellow who was killed worked at programing drones."

  "I was never sure what it was, but the official explanation of a gas leak didn't seem to fit. Most gas explosions are not accompanied by fire," I said. Peggy looked at the two of us as if we were speaking a foreign language.

  "That sort of stuff is on the internet?” She asked.

  "Almost everything of any significance that happens is on the internet sooner or later," Leon smiled. "This guy here, the RetiredProf, says that the internet is the first citizen to many citizen interface, and that on the internet, the truth always floats to the surface if you look hard enough for it.” Leon smiled. "That is why the government is threatening that we need government-managed cyber security. They want to completely control the internet so citizens can no longer communicate freely, and the truth about government misdeeds doesn't get out."

  Peggy said, "Before the drone, I would have never believed any of this."

  "You have seen a drone strike?” Leon asked.

  "She has seen several," I said. "She was a witness to an assassination by drone, and then they tried to kill her with another one because she saw the first one. I'll bet that is not on the internet.” I said.

  "Not that I have seen," Leon said. "But I have been busy canning lately and haven't had as much time to read the internet alternative news as I would like."

  Peggy thought for a moment. "Well, if it isn't there, it is going to be. I am sure there is a way to hack into the government system and retrieve the video filmed by the drones. They must have cameras on them, just like the drones our government uses to assassinate people overseas. The bastards just can't be allowed to get away with this."

  "So far, no one has been able to hack the drones camera feeds that I am aware of," I said.

  "None of them are as mad as I am!” Peggy scowled.

  "Tell me your story, if you want," Leon said. So Peggy told him her story while I ate some of the cookies. I was still trying to stay off wheat, but those cookies looked so good I couldn't resist. Peggy talked for almost 30 minutes. I could tell she was mad. Leon listened quietly. When she was done, he said. "There is going to be a revolution in this country. Folks have just been talking it up before because they are mad at the fools in Washington, D.C. for messing up the economy and taking away so many of our liberties. Once the people find out about this, the true patriots are going to go ballistic."

  "I agree," I said. "The challenge is to destroy the government's power in such a way as to keep them from slaughtering large numbers of American citizens who rebel. Freedom of speech is almost dead in this country already. As soon as the government seizes control of the internet, the people will be effectively silenced."

  "I think things are coming to a head," Leon said.

  "I concur," I replied. "I don't think we have very long before the government becomes so oppressive that they openly kill American citizens who disagree with them."

  "They stole the election this time. From what I have read, there was so much voter fraud that there's no way they didn't steal the election. We were all expecting it to be close, however, the polls showed the other candidate should ha
ve won by a significant margin. Yet, the election results showed that, time after time, in the swing states, voting was not what the polls predicted it would be."

  "Yes," I agreed. "Did you see where in some of the counties as many as 149% of the registered voters voted for the current president."

  "Yes, I did.” Leon slowly shook his head. "I'm worried about the future of this country. I am 76 years old, and I grew up in a different country. It was called the United States of America, but it's not the United States of America I live in today. When I was young, people worked. People took care of their own. Charity was local. Importantly, anyone who wanted to work—which was nearly everyone—could work. Now, our foolish leaders conspire with international corporations and greedy bankers, and export our jobs overseas. Any fool could have told them that the result would ultimately be a failed state here at home."

  "You are right," I replied. "We started to go wrong when we began to elect lawyers to political office. I realize that lawyers believe that they are excellent critical thinkers. However, very few are. This is because they are taught in law school that facts are pliable. That the loudest expert is right."

  "What do you mean?” Peggy asked.

  "Well," I said, "let's start by examining the education that most lawyers receive. To be accepted into law school, you first need to earn a four-year degree. Very few lawyers earn their bachelor's degree in science, engineering, or mathematics. Most, especially those who are interested in entering politics, usually earn bachelor's degrees in political science, or some allied field. What you should know is that political science is not really science. It is just a non-quantitative way of looking at human relations. I must admit, the study of people and how they behave is of primary importance in more than just politics. However, without an understanding of mathematics, the science of physical resources, and economics based on physical quantities, accurate decisions concerning the course of the country are difficult to make."

  "Also, lawyers are trained to be advocates for those who pay them. If you are accused of a crime, you need an advocate. However, if we send someone to Washington to represent us, we need someone who understands the issues and does not simply act as an advocate for the lobbyists who give him the most money."