by Dirk Patton
Ashley shook her head.
“Forget what you’ve seen in the movies and on television. Ninety percent is bullshit. These are exceptional people. I should know. I’ve had the privilege of leading many of them over the past three decades. People like this… well, granted there are always exceptions to the rule, but people like this do not commit suicide very often. They don’t find themselves in situations where they’re the victims of homicides. Perpetrators perhaps, but not victims.
“The other thing you must understand is the process involved in screening and selecting an operator. Not just anyone is accepted. In fact, the wash out rate is astronomical. As high as seventy five percent in some programs. That is done to ensure that only the best of the best earn their way into a very elite family. And do you know what the number one reason is for rejection?”
“Not strong enough or fast enough?” Ashley asked, earning a smile from Blue.
“Hardly. That’s important, but it’s not what sets these men apart. I was in the bottom ten percent of my selection cycle when it came to timed runs and obstacle courses. But I graduated because I always finished. I never quit. No matter what. Do you understand?”
“Not really.”
“We’re not looking for the strongest and fastest. Or the best shots or even the smartest. It would be easy if those were the only criteria. No, the number one reason candidates wash out of the process is because of mental weakness. They give up. They allow their bodies to dictate to their minds and they quit.
“The ones that succeed, the men who become the truly dangerous warriors, are the ones who don’t allow their bodies to determine what they’re capable of enduring. And overcoming. They’re a special breed, Ms. Dumont. Now, tell me. Does that sound like the type of person who would stick a gun in their mouth without an extremely compelling reason?”
“No,” Ashley said softly.
Blue nodded in satisfaction that she’d grasped his point.
“Assuming all of this is true,” Ashley began. “These guys were all retired, right?”
“Retired, or they didn’t extend their enlistment. On average, an operator makes it less than ten years. Some of it’s the wear and tear on their body, but a lot of it is disillusionment that sets in.”
“Disillusionment?” she asked, frowning.
“These men are highly trained and motivated to do one thing. Kill America’s enemies to keep their country safe. But, with politics, they are often kept on a short leash and every action they take is second guessed by a DOD lawyer in an air-conditioned office at the Pentagon. It wears on them. All they want is to be unleashed to do their job and the length of the leash keeps changing. Often in mid-mission.
“It’s demoralizing and frankly, negates much of the value of even finding and training men like this. So, they leave. Some go the private contractor route, but most just return to civilian life. Start peaceful careers and have a family. A year after they’re gone, you wouldn’t recognize one of them. But as a group, compared to the average veteran or even the bulk of the civilian population, they have a very high likelihood of success in whatever they do for the very same reason they were selected in the first place.”
He fell quiet, allowing Ashley time to process what he’d said.
“Then why is this happening?” she asked, holding the sheaf of papers in the air and waving it.
Blue smiled, his eyes twinkling as he zeroed in on his main point.
“Do you understand why the United States has never been invaded? How we got through World War II and then the Cold War without an enemy soldier setting foot on our soil? Even Hawaii, after Pearl Harbor and the devastation to the fleet, wasn’t invaded. Why do you suppose that is?”
“I don’t know.”
“Guns. Pure and simple. Guns, plus the men and women that know how to use them and will do so if necessary.”
“Here we go,” Ashley said, rolling her eyes. “I should have seen this coming, too.”
Blue frowned, but continued to make his case.
“There is some disagreement among historical scholars and perhaps it was propaganda from General MacArthur, but there is a quote that’s generally attributed to Admiral Yamamoto of the Japanese Imperial Navy in response to a request from the Emperor to draw up invasion plans.
‘You cannot invade the mainland United States. There would be a rifle behind every blade of grass.’
“Whether Yamamoto ever uttered those words or not is immaterial and does not change their validity in the least. Further, why has there never been a serious attempt by a general or political figure to seize control of our country? To disband Congress and the Supreme Court, set aside democracy and install an unelected dictator?
“Why do we have a peaceful transfer of power every four or eight years? You’re too young to remember, but there was a very tight election between Bush and Gore in 2000. Only a handful of contested votes decided who was president and it took the Supreme Court to settle the matter. Almost anywhere else, there would have been troops and tanks in the streets. But not here. Why?
“Many of the American people wouldn’t sit still, that’s why! And what could they do? They could fight and, in my humble opinion, that would be the fight to end all fights. Down and dirty guerrilla warfare in both the cities and the countryside. They couldn’t hope to win on a World War II style battlefield, but fight the way the NVA and VC taught us? Like the Taliban, Al Qaeda or ISIS when we faced them in the middle east?
“That’s a model which, with enough citizen soldiers taking up arms, could successfully overthrow a corrupt and illegal government. But for it to work, there have to be leaders. Men who have the skills and ability to train and direct an undisciplined fighting force. Mold them into a viable rebellion. And do you know which of our citizens are uniquely qualified to train and lead an armed resistance in that type of war?”
He leaned forward to tap the papers in Ashley’s hand.
“Every single name on that list. So, you tell me. What’s the reason for suddenly going after all these highly-trained men?”
Ashley stared at him with her mouth open.
“You’re stark raving mad,” she breathed.
Blue smiled in response. Shook his head.
“I assure you, Ms. Dumont, that I am not. In fact, I sincerely wish I were wrong. But the country you and I grew up in is about to cease to exist. You asked earlier who we were. For lack of a better term, we are the resistance. The rebels, if you prefer. Men who, at one point in our life, swore an oath to protect and defend the Constitution. That oath didn’t expire when we took off our uniforms.”
“You’re that group! What are they called? Oath something?”
“You’re thinking of the Oath Keepers and, no, we are not associated with them. They are far too public.”
“Then what?”
“It doesn’t really matter. What does is what’s coming.”
Chapter 13
“Why me?” Ashley asked.
She adjusted her body on the bed, grimacing when her leg reminded her it had been recently injured.
“I’m sorry?” Blue asked, his eyebrows arched questioningly.
“Why did you text me? Why save me?”
“You came to our attention,” he said as if that explained everything.
“I’m sure lots of people come to your attention,” Ashley said. “What’s so special about me?
Blue smiled before answering.
“We’ve been tracking your research into the story. Frankly, the fact that you recognized something wasn’t kosher and continued to dig impressed the right people. The decision had already been made to feed you information and let you keep going.”
“A junior reporter? Really? I’m not naïve, Mr. Blue.”
“No one believes you are, Ms. Dumont. But you’re ambitious. Driven. Those are two qualities that are in short supply these days. We thought we had more time. Expected to be able to let this play out in the media, then, when the time was right, there are a
number of members of Congress that were ready to start beating the warning drums.
“Besides, if you’d failed to follow through, we had contingency plans in place with other reporters, as I mentioned. But as with many endeavors in our world, sometimes explosive information is best delivered by someone who is new on the scene. Someone without an established agenda that could be used to distract attention from the facts.
“But things moved in a direction we weren’t expecting. Your editor had not been identified as working directly with the conspirators. I am somewhat embarrassed to admit that we were caught unprepared when you were fired and a kill order was issued.”
“Wait,” Ashley said, holding a hand up like a stop sign. “You texted me after I was fired. What good was I then?”
“Did you stop becoming a reporter when you were fired from the Tribune?”
Ashley hesitated as she considered the question.
“No,” she finally said. “But a reporter without an outlet is like a swimmer without water.”
Blue tilted his head back and laughed.
“Well said, Ms. Dumont! Well said. However, we’re beyond the point where a reporter who files a daily story is useful. As I’ve said, their plan is farther advanced than we believed. We realized that the instant your editor made the call that initiated an assassination attempt on you.”
“What then? You saved me out of the goodness of your heart?”
“There is no goodness in my heart, Ms. Dumont,” Blue said.
The tone in his voice and the look in his eyes left no doubt in Ashley’s mind that he was telling the truth.
“That’s not an answer.”
Blue watched her closely for a moment before sighing in resignation.
“Ms. Dumont, I will be perfectly frank with you. You are young, smart and very attractive. All three of those qualities will be in your favor, and ours, when it is time to go public with the truth. You are articulate, though your grammar could use some polishing, and you have a history of supporting left leaning candidates and causes.
“Certainly, there will be those that will dismiss you. Deride and demean you for reporting the truth without trying to twist or hide it through intentional omission or obfuscation. But you have the credentials without the baggage to ring true with many Americans.
“My reason for sending you to O’Shaughnessy’s was twofold. I had to get my team in place to protect you. And I fully intended to meet you there, with hopes of recruiting your assistance, but as I said, I was occupied with re-tasking assets to ensure your survival and you departed before I could arrive.”
“Recruit me? For what?” Ashley asked, confusion clear on her face.
“There are two ways this will play out. Either we win, or they do. If they do, you are immaterial. And I mean no disrespect by that statement. It’s simply a fact. But if we are successful in stopping them, the story must be told. The curtains of secrecy and deceit must be thrown open and a very bright light shone on the conspiracy and the people behind it.
“That’s where you come in, Ms. Dumont. I would like you to be our… scribe? Historian? Embedded reporter? Whatever term you prefer. You will see and hear everything. Have unfettered access to our intelligence. Witness how we operate. If God is willing and we are successful, you will become the very public face that informs the country and the world about what almost happened to America. You will tell them the truth and you’ll have everything you need to prove the story beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
Ashley stared at him with her mouth hanging open. A thrill of fear passed through her as she contemplated the seriousness of what she had been told and was being asked to do.
“How do you know I’m the right one? What if I support the other side?”
“I’m unconcerned with your political ideology, Ms. Dumont. It really is irrelevant to the task at hand. I’m not asking you to write a column intended to influence anyone. I simply want you to document everything that happens in an honest way. Without spin. Simply the facts.
“You will see things that won’t make sense. Things that will probably fly in the face of what you believe. Quite possibly things that will lead you to conclude we are monsters of the worst stripe. All I ask is that you report without bias. Didn’t they teach you that in journalism school?”
Ashley snorted, smarting from the mild rebuke.
“What happens if you lose?” she asked.
“As I said, your reporting would be immaterial.”
“Not what I meant. What happens to me?”
“If we lose, I cannot predict your specific outcome. Were the other side to become aware of your involvement, which we will do our best to conceal, there is a distinct possibility that you would end up in prison, or possibly even dead. If we lose, Ms. Dumont, there will be a seismic shift in the world. The US Constitution will be ripped up. I cannot even predict what would become of our legal system.
“One thing I do know for sure. No one who is perceived as a threat to the new world order will be allowed to speak out. How they will approach the suppression of free speech is unknown, but there is a plethora of examples throughout history, as well as current times, from which they can and will draw inspiration.”
Blue sat watching her, waiting patiently as the impact of his statement soaked in.
“You’re talking about a war when you say, ‘what happens’, aren’t you?” Ashley asked quietly.
“Not in the traditional sense, no. No battlefields. No tanks and planes and warships. Well, probably not. I’m talking about a clandestine war. A war that doesn’t spill out into the public eye. Understand, I’m referring to our resistance, not to what the other side is prepared to do. Fear will be their weapon to control the population and to generate real fear requires savage actions. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“You have a strange manner of recruiting,” she said, trying to purge an image of a burning city being fought over by different groups of Americans.
“I would not want you to enter into an endeavor without being well informed,” he said, shrugging.
Ashley was quiet for a long time, staring at a spot on the wall as Blue watched her intently.
“I have to think about this,” she finally said without looking at him.
He stood, her eyes traveling up to meet his.
“Understandable, Ms. Dumont. But I need your decision within an hour. Time is of the essence. With the acceleration of the Deep State’s plan, there is an urgency to prepare our collected evidence of their acts. As I’ve already stated, we have been caught by surprise and must intensify our efforts, so if you are not on board it will be necessary to approach one of the other members of the media who have been identified. I would prefer not to, but…”
With that, he left the room. Ashley’s head spun as she tried to comprehend everything he’d told her. She wanted to dismiss him as a right wing crank. Much of what he’d said had been repeatedly bandied about by conservatives for years. She, like the vast majority of her peers had always dismissed them as deranged. Deplorable, even, to borrow a term.
But one thing nagged at her. A dead man on a sidewalk with an icepick in his hand. Less than ten feet behind her. And another trying to shoot her when she called for help. She slowly lifted the sheet and looked at her bandaged leg. If what Blue had said was wrong and nothing more than conservative fear mongering, then why had she been fired? Why had someone tried to kill her?
Chapter 14
“I don’t believe it,” Tanya said.
We had finished a cold dinner and were sitting outside in the dark. Mary had refused to eat so Mom had taken her upstairs for a warm bath before bed. I was worried Mary wouldn’t sleep, either.
“I know. Me, too,” I answered, looking up at the starry sky. Wishing my dad was there to see it.
“I don’t mean that. I’m talking about... well…” she stopped and twisted around on the ground to face me.
“What?” I asked, looking at her dark silhouette.
&
nbsp; “How well did you know your dad? I mean the war stuff. Him being a Marine and all.”
“He never talked about it,” I said. “Never. I kind of figured there was some really nasty shit that went down over there that he didn’t want his family to hear about.”
“There was,” she said, nodding. “But that’s not what I’m talking about. You know he was in a Raider battalion. Know what that means?”
“Yeah, I do. Been looking at joining up. Read a lot and got a few answers from Dad. We were supposed to go see a recruiter on my birthday.”
The thought caused a lump to form in my throat, but I covered by coughing a few times.
“So, you know a Marine Raider is a real badass. And so is a Navy SEAL, like my dad. Right?”
“Yeah. What’s your point?”
“Think about it,” Tanya said, her voice growing intense as she leaned toward me. “You’ve got two of the biggest badass special forces operators. They’re well trained and spent years in combat. Okay, so let’s forget this whole militia bullshit because we both know it’s a lie. Just like those tables full of guns the FBI showed off. Just think about our dads.
“You really believe if they’d been planning to go to war with those agents, they’d have lost? Come on, Joe! Our dads survived Iraq and Afghanistan! They fought Al Qaeda, the Taliban and all kinds of jihadis. My dad did talk about the war and I can tell you, they kicked ass! Both of ‘em. So why is it a bunch of pansy ass BLM agents who wouldn’t survive five minutes in a war zone were able to kill them and so many others? It’s bullshit, just like the guns and the militia story!”
I couldn’t see Tanya’s face in the darkness, but the raw emotion in her voice was unmistakable. Not knowing what to say, I sat there looking at her. Finally, she sniffed, leaned away and raised a hand to wipe her eyes.
“What do you think happened?” I asked after a long silence.
“I think they were set up. Murdered.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. As impossible as the thought of my dad going to war with the government was, this sounded even more ridiculous. Tanya had definitely been hit hard by the loss of her parents, but coming up with conspiracy theories to explain what had happened wasn’t how to deal with her loss.