Coldfall

by Dirk Patton

  “Why does it hurt so bad? It doesn’t look that big.”

  “Entry wound,” Doc explained as he smeared antibiotic ointment onto a gauze pad and gently put it in place. “The exit wound is about twice as large. Hold on…”

  He retrieved a small mirror from his satchel and held it beneath her leg. Ashley stared in disbelief at the wound, unable to comprehend why it was so much larger than the one on the front. The bruising covered nearly her entire leg, from the back of her knee to up beneath her panties.

  “Nasty little hollow point,” Doc said, applying another fresh gauze pad. “They expand and make a much bigger hole on the way out than going in.”

  Pads in place, he expertly re-wrapped her leg, then gently lowered it back onto the mattress.

  “Will I be okay?” she whispered.

  He smiled and winked at her.

  “Gonna look great in a pair of shorts. Scar like that, guys’ll be beating your door down!”

  Ashley stared at him in mute surprise then chuckled. Her amusement ended quickly when Doc pulled two loaded syringes from his bag.

  “What’s that?” she asked, pulling the sheet up protectively.

  “Tetanus booster and a broad-spectrum antibiotic,” he said, holding them up. “Just because a bullet wound doesn’t cause a lot of internal damage doesn’t mean it’s not serious. Seen men die from what Hollywood calls a flesh wound when they got an infection. Sepsis can come fast. So, roll over.”

  Ashley held his eyes for a long moment, then with a sigh and grimace of pain, rolled onto her side and pulled down the waistband of her underwear. Doc administered the shots and handed her some Tylenol. A large bottle of water came out of his bag and he held it up, looking into her eyes.

  “This had better be empty when I come back to check on you. Your body needs fluids. If you don’t drink all of it, I’m going to start a saline IV. Understand?”

  Ashley nodded and accepted the bottle. Doc quickly packed his satchel and turned to leave.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  He paused and looked over her shoulder.

  “Thank BK, not me. All I did was put a band-aid on your boo-boo. If it wasn’t for him, you’d be on a slab in the morgue right now.”

  “BK? That’s his name?”

  “Boss’ll be along in a minute,” he said, leaving and softly closing the door.

  Chapter 11

  It was actually less than a minute before there was another tap on the door, then it opened before Ashley could respond. A tall man, dressed similar to BK, walked in. He was in his late forties or early fifties with a smoothly shaven skull and a neatly trimmed goatee. There didn’t appear to be an ounce of fat anywhere on his body and despite being thin, he exuded raw physical power.

  “Ms. Dumont,” he said in a friendly voice. “My name is Mr. Blue. I apologize we were unable to extract you without injury, but that’s the way it happens sometimes. Fortunately, your wound is minor and Doc says you’ll be up and around in no time.”

  “Mr. Blue?” she snorted. “Cute. But I saw the movie, too.”

  He gave her a puzzled look.

  “Movie?”

  “Never mind,” she said, shaking her head. “What did you mean by ‘extract’?”

  He smiled and took a seat in BK’s chair.

  “Extract, in this usage, is a verb. It means to remove or take out, especially by effort or force.”

  Ashley stared at the man a long moment, trying to decide if this was simply his personality or he was being condescending. She couldn’t read his face.

  “So, did you bring me here for a grammar lesson?” she asked, trying sarcasm.

  “No, you were brought here to save your life,” Blue said, ignoring her tone. “You’ve stumbled onto something that some very powerful people want kept quiet.”

  He opened a file folder and handed her several sheets of paper stapled together. She glanced down, then quickly flipped through the pages in surprise.

  “Copies of my notebook! How did you get this? The Trib took it from me.”

  “We have friends in many places who are willing to do us favors,” he said, as if that explained everything.

  “What are you? You said ‘we’. Military?”

  Blue chuckled and shook his head.

  “Please tell me who else you’ve shared this information with.”

  “Why should I tell you that? I know nothing about you. Not even your real name.”

  “You’re asking unimportant questions, Ms. Dumont.”

  “Unimportant to who?”

  “Whom,” he corrected.

  “Jesus Christ, you’re as annoying as BK! Quit worrying about my fucking grammar and answer my question!”

  Blue remained quiet, watching her as he considered her outburst.

  “Very well, Ms. Dumont. We are not the military. At least, not any longer. We learned that you were looking into this issue, but unfortunately, so did the powerful people I mentioned. We were unaware of their interest in you at the time I sent the text messages. That’s why I was unable to meet you at O’Shaughnessy’s. I was busy coordinating our response to ensure you survived the night. Fortunately, we were successful.”

  “I’m supposed to take your word that I was in danger? Seems to me the only danger I’m in is from being around you!”

  “Was your firing from the Trib justified?” Blue asked, smoothly changing course.

  “Absolutely not! But that’s got nothing to do with anything. People get fired all the time.”

  “For simply bringing a story idea to the editor? Come on, Ms. Dumont. You’re smarter than that.”

  Ashley glared at him in response to the comment but he remained impassive.

  “You found something that was supposed to be under the radar. Those records were supposed to have been purged so inquisitive people like you couldn’t find them. But we interfered. Made sure they weren’t covered up. Truthfully, we were ready to contact several different reporters that would have begun digging for the truth, but you beat us to the punch.

  “For your efforts, you were summarily terminated. And targeted for assassination to silence you. This told us their timetable is much farther along than we thought. The lack of hesitation to order your death changed things. It’s now too late to get this into the hands of the right members of the media who haven’t been co-opted by money or power. They were simply covering their tracks. The balloon is about to go up, Ms. Dumont.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means an all-out effort to destroy America is imminent.”

  “Destroy America? My, that sounds ominous.”

  Blue ignored her sarcasm.

  “Globalism, Ms. Dumont. Are you familiar with the concept?”

  “Duh. I’m a reporter.”

  Blue nodded, giving himself a moment so he didn’t react to her tone.

  “From the point in history when man first realized there were other lands out there to be conquered, there have always been people with the desire to rule the world. Genghis Khan. The Roman Empire. The British Empire. Napoleon. Hitler. Just to name a few.

  “Their desire was to control everything that is said and done. Nothing short of complete global domination. But, at least in modern times, there’s always been what appeared to be insurmountable stumbling blocks to that end. Care to guess what those impediments are?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Free, democratic nations. The United States. Western Europe. In more recent history, Japan and Australia. Anywhere citizens are freely able to choose their leaders and influence their government’s policies. For generations, it was assumed that these countries couldn’t be defeated. Can you name a single nation or coalition of nations on Earth that could hope to defeat America in open warfare?”

  “Lots of countries have nuclear weapons,” she said.

  “Of course they do. But the people who want to control the world aren’t interested in lording over a radioactive wasteland.”

  Ashle
y nodded slowly.

  “So, the problem has always been how to negate the military might of the democracies in the world without facing them on a battlefield. And slowly, the lesson of the Roman Empire began to look like the path to success. Don’t wake a sleeping giant, pull the right levers and let it rot from the inside until it falls. Just like Rome.

  “This couldn’t happen quickly, but these people are patient. For them, this is a marathon, not a sprint. In some cases that we have identified, they have even passed along their plans to their children and grandchildren.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” Ashley protested. “Why be so determined to do something if you’ll never see the results?”

  “Because to them this isn’t just a quest, it’s a destiny for their family name! They don’t think like we do. They were born into wealth and positions of power. Everything has been handed to them, requiring no effort on their part. A few centuries ago they would have been considered royalty. Untouchable. All powerful. Taxes and tithes would have been paid to them, not by them.

  “But we don’t have royalty in democracies. Especially the United States. We’re all supposed to be equal. Do you think the billionaire families in America believe you and I are their equals? And regardless of what is constantly spouted by the media, they don’t think for one second that they aren’t above us. That we are simply the unwashed masses that need to be guided.”

  “That’s not true!” Ashley said, taking the comment personally. “I know plenty of reporters that work their asses off and really care about people.”

  “Of course, you do. But name one of those that is a syndicated columnist or is on any of the hundreds of broadcast and cable shows. In other words, in a position to influence public opinion on a grand scale. Can you?”

  After a long pause, Ashley shook her head.

  “Think about what comes out of Hollywood celebrities who feel they have ascended to a position in the royal court. Add in the media’s war on middle America, then consider what is really being taught to our young people by academia. They’re all reading from the same page of music, Ms. Dumont. Working in concert to corrupt the principles that made us who we are. And it’s succeeding!

  “Now, let’s expand their assault. We have reached a point where half the country is financially supporting the other half. There is a larger percentage of Americans on some sort of social welfare than at any time in history. And if a politician dares to suggest there should be an effort to change this, they are viciously attacked. Denounced. Painted as uncaring if they’re lucky, but more likely they’ll be branded as a racist, among a litany of other character slurs.

  “Engaging in trade deals that are purposefully designed to hurt the economy and export jobs, while simultaneously allowing the unchecked, illegal immigration of millions of people with no money, education or job skills. This places further pressure on the economy, costing more jobs and suppressing wages for low skilled American workers. Can you think of a better way to ensure the ongoing dependence of a large portion of our population on the government?”

  Ashley was shaking her head as he asked the question.

  “You sound like a Republican running for office,” she said derisively. “We have to be a global community. It’s the right thing to do! We have so much in America and there’s so many in the world that are starving. We have an obligation to help!”

  “I’m not here to debate politics with you, Ms. Dumont,” Blue said calmly. “And I don’t disagree with the principle of helping those less fortunate. But that’s another discussion. What I’m describing to you are facts. Documented, provable actions and what their results have been. And, most importantly, the reasons behind what’s been occurring for generations under the guise of obligations. So, if I may continue?”

  Ashley looked decidedly unhappy, but nodded.

  “What I’ve laid out is only what’s happened here in America. The other major problem for a global dictatorship was Western Europe. After World War II, it was rebuilt in our image, as was Japan. And they flourished. Became stronger than ever, both economically and militarily, all thanks to us. So, how best to neutralize their power?

  “The first and boldest step was the creation of the European Union. Suddenly there were no longer all of these small nations, competing with each other. With the EU, twenty-eight of them began working toward a common goal. On paper that sounds beneficial. Each country retained a degree of its national identity and control over its internal politics.

  “But by creating a governing body that is unanswerable to the citizens of the EU, you have taken a giant first step toward a dictatorship. Well, more accurately it could be called an oligarchy. And we’ve already seen how the bureaucrats in Brussels conduct the business of government. Early on, the Commission that runs the EU recognized the danger to the alliance from nationalistic politicians and citizens and devised a plan to counter resistance to their control.

  “Quite simply, throw open Europe’s borders and call it their moral obligation to accept any immigrant. Millions flooded in, diluting the mostly homogenous populations of each nation. Within a few short years, everything from politics to religion made a hard turn and immigrants continued to be welcomed with open arms. As here in America, anyone who disagreed with the policy was soundly criticized and attacked.

  “Do the terms racist, xenophobe and Islamophobe sound familiar? They were being used in Europe to brand anyone opposed to their agenda long before Hillary Clinton popularized their use during her failed presidential campaign. The second one, I mean. Now, Europe has lost its way. Even the British! It’s difficult to imagine the country that basically shaped the entire western world would have surrendered, even going so far as to allow Sharia courts to operate within its borders. This is the same nation that stood strong against the Nazis, even as their cities were being bombed into rubble every night. But that’s what has happened and Europe as a whole has capitulated.

  “So, what’s left of the world’s great democracies? The last single beacon of hope in a sea of subjugation? The United States. But let me tell you, that shining light is pretty damn dim at the moment and there’s a very real chance it will be extinguished.”

  Chapter 12

  Ashley had listened attentively, resisting the urge to interrupt with counterpoints whenever she heard something that didn’t match what she believed.

  “That’s rather dramatic, don’t you think?” she settled for asking.

  Blue shrugged and grinned.

  “Perhaps the last part,” he conceded. “But sometimes dramatics are necessary to make a point.”

  “So, who are these powerful people? The ones who think their destiny is to rule the world.”

  Blue hesitated, then seemed to come to a decision.

  “In the US, a select group of high level government officials have sold their souls to immensely wealthy and powerful men who are pulling the strings from behind the scenes.”

  “Next, you’re going to put on a tin-foil hat and tell me there’s collusion here and obstruction there and it’s all coming from what you’ll call the Deep State. Am I right?”

  “Yes, you are, Ms. Dumont. At least about the Deep State. As far as the tin-foil hat, I’m unaware that having hard evidence of murder, subversion and treason against the United States qualifies me for that label.”

  “You have evidence? Proof? Show me! Show me the names behind this grand plan!”

  “Not at this time,” Blue said. “The timing isn’t right. Even with proof, the American public isn’t ready. But I do have some disturbing data I’m willing to share.”

  “That’s what I thought!” Ashley snapped. “More bullshit. Don’t you guys ever get tired of this crap? What’s the definition of insanity?”

  “Repeating the same action, over and over, while each time expecting a different result.”

  Ashley smiled, thinking she’d scored a point. But Blue didn’t rise to her bait. Instead, he pulled a stack of papers out of the folder and held them
out. She hesitantly took them from his hand.

  “What’s this?”

  “Look at it,” he said, tilting his head at the pages.

  She glanced at the first page, her eyes widening slightly in surprise. Slowly at first, then faster, she flipped through the document until reaching the final page.

  “Is this real?” she asked without looking up.

  “Unfortunately, it is very real. As you can see, what you discovered has been going on for some time. Nearly a year, in fact. It began shortly after President Williams took office. Of course, some are genuine, but not this many in this time frame.”

  Ashley glanced up, then began slowly flipping through the pages again. Occasionally she would stop and compare a line of text to the copy of her notes.

  “More than fifteen thousand?” she asked in a whisper.

  “That we know of,” Blue said, nodding. “You didn’t have time to expand your investigation. This isn’t just former operators being arrested. That number is actually very low and you found most of the records.

  “What you didn’t find is over nine thousand suicides. Two thousand homicides. Two thousand deaths ruled as natural causes, plus a handful of other reasons. Our best estimate is less than two percent of these are legitimate.”

  Ashley stared at the pages, trying to reconcile what she was seeing and hearing. She’d believed something was odd when she’d first stumbled across the story after an offhand comment by a junior researcher at the Trib, but had never expected the scope to expand so dramatically.

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “This information documents the systematic removal of highly trained warriors from the general population of the United States.”

  “How are you sure this isn’t simply what’s happening when they return to civilian life? Veteran suicides have been a problem for decades. Homelessness. Drug addiction. All things that will inflate the numbers.”

  “You sound like your editor,” Blue observed, receiving a sharp glare. “Ms. Dumont, have you ever known anyone who was a special forces operator?”