Drone Wars 1: The Beginning

by Mike Whitworth

  "I don't know," Doc replied. "It just seems to me that by now, the feds will have managed to figure out that we used the bus and track it to here."

  "I hope you're wrong," Lorne replied. "I would hate to lose this place. I like it very much."

  "Let's go take a look at the radar," Doc suggested. "That may set my mind at ease."

  Washington, D.C.

  "Mr. Secretary, we have a development."

  "What is it?"

  "Our surveillance of the Mississippi property suggests that we should strike there now. There seems to be movement on the property, and an unusually large number of people are present. I think this may be our chance to strike hard at the core of the resistance movement."

  "I think you're right," the secretary responded. "The president is anxious for this to occur."

  "Yes sir."

  "Everything is ready for the strike?” The secretary asked.

  "Yes sir we are ready to go."

  "Then set loose the dogs," the secretary said.

  "The dogs Sir?"

  "Destroy the place, you idiot."

  "Yes sir. It will be done."

  "And make sure the president gets a copy of the video."

  "Yes, sir. Our video editors will prepare a film for him as usual."

  "Remember to have them digitally enhance any bloody parts."

  "Yes Sir," the assistant secretary said. "We always do."

  Mississippi

  The first hit came as they sat down at the computer to call up the output of the small radar that Lorne had installed at the ranch. The explosion was huge and the ground roll threw Doc and Lorne out of their chairs onto the floor. They were both up in a few seconds. The ground roll lasted less than two seconds.

  "Let's get out of here," Doc shouted.

  "Follow me," Lorne said.

  Myrtle, Lowboy, and Gwen, the lady who had shot the FTSP agent at the checkpoint in Alabama, were sitting in the kitchen playing cards when the first missile struck. They were playing five-card draw, and Gwen was up 23 dollars. She thought these two huge guys were letting her win, but she wasn't sure. The blast threw them all to the floor, and the ceiling fell on them. Gwen was surprised to find herself covered, but not crushed, by two huge bodies. Not one bit of the sheetrock collapsing from the ceiling above hit her.

  Myrtle pushed himself to his feet and grabbed Lowboy's arm and helped him up. They both helped Gwen to her feet. Myrtle said, "Follow me," and started for the trap door in the kitchen that covered the entrance to a small tunnel that exited in the nearby woods. The tunnel was a very tight fit for Myrtle and Lowboy, but they squeezed through. Gwen, who was about the same height as Lorne, but much thinner and lighter, had no trouble.

  In less than three minutes, they were in the woods, running away from the ranch buildings. They heard another explosion behind them as they ran. Gwen was the fastest of the three. Myrtle and Lowboy both struggled to keep up. They made it nearly to the top of a nearby hill where Myrtle showed them a small, cave-like dugout that contained a few escape supplies and gear.

  They were sitting in the dugout, looking back at the ranch, when the bunker buster hit dead center on the ranch house. The concussion left them deaf for almost 30 seconds. The ground roll collapsed the dugout. It would have buried all of them if Lowboy had not pushed Gwen and Myrtle out of the dugout as soon as he saw the streak of the missile headed for the ranch house. The collapsed dirt covered him from his toes to the middle of his back. Without saying a word, Myrtle and Gwen started digging him out using just their hands. It took them twenty minutes, but they finally pulled Lowboy free of the dirt.

  "Nice retirement, huh guys?” Lowboy said as they sat wheezing on the hillside. They all laughed until they couldn't breathe.

  "It beats Social Security," Gwen said, and they all started laughing again. After a few more minutes, they managed to get to their feet.

  "Do you think anyone else got out?” Lowboy asked.

  "I hope so, but after that big one I doubt it. I sure hope I am wrong," Myrtle hung his head. "I had good friends in there."

  "Who did that?” Gwen asked. "The government?"

  "I am afraid so," Myrtle replied. "I am afraid so."

  "Mean bastards, aren't they," Gwen muttered.

  "You have no idea," Myrtle said. "They have killed a lot of citizens whose only crime was opposing the current administration's policies."

  "You mean like people who cause violence?” Gwen asked.

  "No, mostly influential people who speak up publicly against them, and any witnesses who happen to be in the way."

  "That is horrible," Gwen frowned.

  "I agree," Lowboy responded.

  "To think I snapped and shot that FTSP asshole," Gwen said. "I wonder what my grandchildren are saying?"

  "If they are loyal to the Constitution, they will be applauding," Lowboy said. "After all, he shot at you first."

  "Well, after going through this, I don't feel so bad about shooting that lowlife FTSP guy. He was a jerk, you know."

  "I know I don't feel bad about killing the one I shot. I sure miss Larry, though. They killed him with a damn drone. I saw it through my field glasses.” Lowboy hung his head a bit.

  "Well, heck. You guys each managed to shoot a fed. All I have done is avoid them," Myrtle lamented. "I feel ashamed."

  "Don't worry," Lowboy said. "I think we are all going to have a chance to shoot as many of those rascals as we want, and pretty darn soon."

  "Yeah," Myrtle grinned. "It sure looks like you guys really got the ball rolling."

  "Boys," Gwen said, tugging at both of their sleeves at the same time. "Don't you think we should get out of here?"

  "Ma'am, you are right as always. Let's go," Lowboy laughed. The three started walking away from the ranch with Myrtle leading the way. They had not managed to recover any supplies from the dugout, nor any weapons from those cached there. Myrtle had no weapon at all, but Lowboy had his old Walker Colt tucked in his waistband and a pocket full of cartridges. Gwen had left her purse behind, but her .380 had been stowed in the pocket of the apron that Myrtle gave her while they were preparing lunch. She only had the bullets in the magazine, which had been thoughtfully reloaded by Lorne.

  "How did you know that the blast would cave in the dugout?” Gwen asked Lowboy.

  "Ma'am, I was just a kid when I went to Vietnam. I didn't know much then, and I doubt I know much now. But, I had a buddy who was in a spider hole when the stupid Air Force dropped a 1000 pounder a mite too close. That spider hole swallowed him like he was never even there."

  "Tough on your buddy?” Myrtle asked.

  "Yeah, his name is on the wall," Lowboy said.

  "Army?” Myrtle questioned.

  "No, Marines. I was just a grunt."

  "Army for me, but I never saw combat," Myrtle said. "I was a cook."

  "Well you have seen combat now," Lowboy smiled. He looked at Gwen, "You too ma'am...twice now. Were you ever in the military, Ma'am?"

  "No," Gwen answered. "I was a store clerk for fifty years. That's all."

  "What kind of store?” Myrtle asked.

  "A gun store," Gwen replied. Both men fell over laughing.

  Lorne led Doc to a small door in the wall. Beyond the door, a staircase led down to another level. Lorne led the way, jumping down four steps at a time. Doc followed, but got his feet tangled at the bottom of the stairs and fell. Lorne pulled him to his feet and pointed down the tunnel at the foot of the stairs, "Run, Doc. As fast as you can.” Lorne ran down the brightly lit tunnel and Doc followed. They had run about 500 feet down the tunnel when the ground shook and the tunnel collapsed behind them. The air pressure from the blast and tunnel collapse blew them off their feet and left them choking in a cloud of dust almost too thick to see through.

  "Whoa," Doc yelled. "That was a big one.” Then the lights in the tunnel went out.

  Lorne pulled a small, bright LED flashlight from his pocket, and turned it on. "They may not quit with that one. Kee
p moving," Lorne said and started off holding his flashlight so they could see a few feet ahead through the dust. In about another hundred yards, they came to the end of the tunnel. Lorne climbed the ladder and opened the hatch above. They had both just climbed out when the bunker buster hit. The shock threw them both to the ground.

  "Holy shit," Doc shouted as he got up. "That was huge. What was that?"

  "I think that was a Tomahawk missile with a bunker buster," Lorne said.

  "I hope everyone else got out."

  "I doubt it," Lorne said. "I hope so though."

  "Could anyone be left alive in there?” Doc asked.

  "Unlikely," Lorne responded. "The complex was only three stories deep. That bunker buster most likely destroyed the entire complex."

  "So the first strike was to drive us underground, and the second and third were to finish us off?” Doc asked.

  "Yes," Lorne replied. "I am willing to bet that they also have ground hounds and federal police on the ground to get any of us who escaped the destruction of the ranch," Lorne said.

  "What are we going to do?” Doc asked.

  "I thought it might come to this someday. Follow me.” Lorne took off at a run. It was a pace that Doc, a marathoner, could maintain only with serious effort. By the time they reached a hidden bunker, Doc was gasping for breath. Lorne wasn't even breathing hard. Lorne opened the combination lock on the door and they went inside. The lights came on when the door opened. Doc stood in amazement looking into the 16 by 32 foot bunker dug into the hillside and stocked with all manner of useful items.

  Doc went to a set of shelves in the back and came back with two uniforms.

  "Those are federal police uniforms," Doc said in amazement.

  "You bet," Lorne grinned. "Put this one on.” Soon, they were both dressed as federal police, right down to the black tactical boots. Lorne handed Doc a duty belt and various bits of tactical gear. Lorne had to show Doc how to put some of the gear on, but soon they were dressed and armed just like members of a federal police swat team, including helmets and face shields.

  "Wow," Doc said. "You think of everything.

  "No," Lorne said, "if I thought of everything, we wouldn't have lost anyone today. I will try to do better after this, much better."

  "How many of these bunkers are there on the ranch?"

  "There are 14 of these bunkers on the ranch, as well as a few others with a different design and contents. I should have showed the escape tunnels and bunkers to everyone. I was pushing OPSEC a bit too hard, I think. Myrtle knows—knew—about the escape tunnels, though."

  "Maybe Myrtle got out with some of the others? I am glad John wasn't here; or Toni or any of the others."

  "I hope Myrtle did get some folks out," Lorne said. "John was right about moving operations headquarters from here. I thought he was wrong, but this shows he was right. He is the right man for the job."

  "I agree," Doc said. "Can we get out of here now?"

  "You bet," Lorne started off at a fast walk with his rifle held at port arms. Doc followed.

  "Are there any escape vehicles hidden?” Doc asked.

  "Yes, there are," Lorne smiled. "But I have a better idea."

  Lowboy snuck up to the top of the hill and peered over it. Myrtle was right behind him. Gwen watched with amusement as the two behemoths tried to move quietly. The wind was really picking up and she could feel it on her face as they neared the top of the hill.

  "What do you see?” Myrtle whispered.

  "Nothing," Lowboy whispered. "Let's go.” The three of them stood and crossed the hilltop. In four steps, they came face to face with two ground hounds. Both groups were surprised. Gwen calmly shot both ground hounds through the head with her .380, while Lowboy struggled to get his Walker Colt out of his belt. Gwen had been carrying the little .380 in her hand since they left the collapsed dugout, so it was easy for her to fire first. Both ground hounds collapsed and didn't move.

  Lowboy finally got his pistol out of his belt. "That was some fine shooting, Ma'am.” He said.

  "Well, I was the Women's National Pistol Champion for eight years running back in the 70s," Gwen said. "Besides, I am starting to get mad at these feds. They seem to think they have the right to kill anyone. Just because a bunch of ball-less wonders signed an unconstitutional law in Washington does not mean that they can kill American citizens with impunity."

  "I see that you mean what you say, Ma'am," Myrtle smiled. "Thank you for saving our lives."

  "No problem," she pointed to Lowboy. "Boy, you better carry that monster of a pistol ready in your hand from now on."

  "Yes Ma'am. I will," Lowboy said, exchanging glances with Myrtle. In spite of themselves, they both smiled. Myrtle stooped and stripped the weapons and ammunition from both the ground hounds. He took a pair of pistols for himself, and handed the rifles to Gwen and Lowboy.

  "I suspect you guys are both better shots than me," He smiled. "Besides, I have never fired a bullet in anger. I better start with these little guys first, gesturing with the pistols."

  Lorne and Doc crouched in the bushes. At the base of the hill, on the road, there were six federal vehicles and a helicopter. Lorne leaned over and whispered in Doc's ear, "That is our way out of here," he said, pointing to the helicopter.

  "You've got to be kidding me?” Doc whispered back.

  "Nope, we're gonna steal that baby."

  "OK, I'm in," Doc whispered. "Let's go.”

  After taking inventory of the federal police scattered around the vehicles and a helicopter, Lorne said, "I count eight."

  "That's how many I see too," Doc said.

  "We will take them out one at a time."

  "How?” Doc asked.

  "With this," Lorne said, pulling a large knife out of his pocket.

  "Yours is bigger than mine," Doc said, also pulling a folding knife out of his pocket.

  "We had best wait for good dark," Lorne said. "That should be in about 15 minutes. Doc nodded his head in agreement.

  Following Lorne as quietly as he could, Doc held his open pocketknife in his right hand. His knife was a medium-size Case stockman, made in the U.S.A. The big blade was less than three inches long. Doc wasn't worried, however, because, he knew enough about anatomy to make his small knife very effective. Coincidently, Lorne's knife was also a Case. It was the single bladed folding hunter model with a four-inch blade.

  Lorne crept up behind the federal policeman. The fed was well over six-feet in height. Lorne jumped up, put his hand over the fed's mouth and pulled his head back while slicing his throat. The fed did not make a sound. Doc helped Lorne ease the body to the ground. It seemed to Doc that it was much messier in real life than it had ever seemed in the movies.

  The next three federal officers were just as easily taken. In each case, Lorne used his knife. Doc didn't have a chance to try his. For that, he was very grateful. In less than ten minutes, Lorne and Doc reached the helicopter. Lorne got into the pilot's seat, and Doc crawled into the front passenger seat. Lorne fired up the helicopter and hurled it into the air before the turbine was even up to full speed. Doc had picked up another M-16 and a few extra magazines from the federal police officers that they had eliminated. He wasn't sure how he would fire a weapon from the helicopter, but he figured if the time came, he would figure it out.

  Lorne flew the helicopter straight for the ranch building.

  "Don't you think we ought to just get out of here?” Doc asked.

  "No," Lorne replied. "If anyone else got away I want to see if we can get them out."

  "That makes sense," Doc replied. "But how are we going to see them. It's pretty dark out there."

  "Look at the screen to your left on the control panel," Lorne replied. "That is a thermal imaging detector."

  "So we can detect people on the ground in the dark by their body heat signature?” Doc asked.

  "Yes," Lorne replied. "The feds have the best equipment our money can buy."

  "Okay, I'll watch the screen," Doc
said.

  Lorne began circling the helicopter around the smoking remains of the ranch headquarters. The bunker buster had blown a hole almost 60 feet deep and 80 feet across where the ranch house used to be. They could see the hole because the federal police on the ground had a number of spotlights set up and were searching through the wreckage. Not one of the feds even looked up as the helicopter circled overhead.

  "That's what I was counting on," Lorne said. "These guys are so used to having their own helicopters overhead that they don't pay them any attention anymore."

  "What if somebody's keeping track of the number of helicopters?” Doc asked.

  "I think this is the only helicopter on site right now," Lorne replied. "I doubt they will send any other helicopters until daylight."

  "That's at least seven hours away."

  "That's right," Lorne replied. "That gives us a nice window of opportunity to see if we can find some of our people who may have survived."

  They flew a spiral search pattern outward from the crater. They had been flying for about 20 minutes when Doc noticed three heat signatures on the infrared screen. "That looks like that might be three of our guys. They are deep in the woods and separated from any of the federal police that we saw on the ground. All the feds we have seen are located much closer to the ranch headquarters."

  "I think you may be right," Lorne replied. "I doubt the federal police will venture into the woods until daylight.” I do suspect that they will have some ground hounds out. I doubt the hounds would operate in groups as big as three. Keep your rifle ready. I will put the searchlight on them. If they are not our people, I will get us out of here as fast as I can."

  "Okay, that sounds good," Doc replied.

  Lorne flew the helicopter toward the three figures on the ground. He waited to turn on the searchlight until he was close. If they were some of the folks who escaped from the ranch house, they would try to hide as fast as they could when the searchlight came on.

  When Lorne flipped on the searchlight, he immediately saw that one of the figures was Myrtle and there was another man and a woman with him. "Doc, pick up the microphone and let Myrtle know that it's us."