World War III - Home Front: A Novel of the Next American Revolution - Book One – As Day turns to Night

by William C. Seigler

  The camera went back to Lora. “In other news a teenager named Raphael Rodriguez died today after a police chase.”

  * * *

  “Hold it kid,” called the policeman as he exited his cruiser.

  Raphael, a fine young budding street artist who had been adding another layer of graffiti to an abandoned building, turned and ran up an alley.

  Officer Weatherly called, “I’ve got a Hispanic male marking up a wall on Myrtle requesting backup.”

  “Ten-four.”

  Weatherly hopped back in his patrol car and sped around the corner in an effort to cut Raphael off.

  Raphael jumped on top of a dumpster and climbed rapidly over a chain link fence, then started down another alley. Another squad car cut off his escape. He ducked down a side alley only to find Weatherly waiting.

  He was a stout man, with a belt overhang, who had played football in high school but had come to dislike any exercise. He was beginning to bald and the stress of the job made him hard to get along with at home. It was difficult to turn it off; it’s like his mind was always ready to fire off into action.

  He had his taser out, and as soon as he saw Raphael, he fired. “Got you, you little scumbag.” He hit the taser again.

  Backup came around behind him. He called on the radio, “We have the Hispanic male in custody.”

  “You going to keep hitting him, Bill?”

  “Yeah, I like the way his ass tightens when I hit him. Give me five.” The officers high fived each other and Weatherly hit him again.

  “Okay, let’s get him up.” But when they tried to raise him, the kid didn’t move.

  “Hey Bill, this kid’s dead.”

  “Better call for more backup; a crowd’s gathering.”

  “Okay, and I’ll get an …”

  * * *

  Lora continued, “A police spokesperson told us that the officers exercised restraint when faced with a potentially violent suspect. Police are investigating the incident, but at this time the teenager’s death appears to be accidental.

  “The search for the dangerous felons who escaped three days ago continues. Windy, do we have anything new on this case?”

  Lora hated Windy because she suspected Windy was after her job. Probably slept her way up the ladder while she, Lora, had got to where she was by hard work and hard-hitting reporting.

  The fact that Lora’s blonde hair came from a bottle, and she was shorter, and a bit more round had nothing to do with it. She knew though that to make the jump to the network, she would have to lose some weight.

  “Thank you Lora. The Department of Homeland Security has come up empty handed so far in their search. They are running into problems in many areas. As of today there have been three cases of anonymous persons taking what can be described as ‘pot shots’ at police as they move into certain neighborhoods to conduct their searches.

  “Because of this, police are confiscating all weapons they find. They say it is for their safety and the safety of the public. However, there are reports that the confiscations began before the shooting began.”

  Lora interrupted, “Will this lower violent crime in the Metroplex?”

  “I put that question to the director of the North Texas Chapter of the Columbia Rifle Association and here’s what he told me.”

  With that the video shot earlier in the day began to roll. Wendy was wearing a different dress which showed just enough chest. She often changed during the day.

  “I’m standing here with Sam Stone, president of the North Texas Chapter of the CRA, a gun advocacy group. Thank you for taking the time to speak with us Mr. Stone.”

  “Happy to oblige you.” He was an older gentleman with a white goatee and salt and pepper mustache.

  “Do you think the police confiscating guns will have an effect on crime?”

  “Oh, it’ll have an effect all right; violent crime will go up.”

  “How is that possible if there are fewer guns on the street?”

  “These guns aren’t on the street; they’re in people’s houses. Now that you’ve advertised to the criminal element where the houses without weapons are, there will be more home invasions and more violent crime.”

  “But fewer guns mean less crime, right?”

  “No, not at all. Look at what happened in Scotland when they outlawed pistols. The violent crime rate went off the charts because the bad people knew they could attack families and older people living on their own with impunity.

  “Not to mention what the government is doing violates the Second Amendment to the Constitution.”

  “But isn’t that old eighteenth century document outdated?”

  He wrinkled his brow. “No, of course not; it is the agreement between the states’ representatives of the people to form a limited central authority. If it is no longer the law, then the people are not duty bound to obey the central authority in any area such as paying taxes.”

  “But you just can’t stop paying taxes.”

  “Why, if the Constitution is not the law, then the deal’s off. Each state and its citizens can go their own way.”

  “That’s anarchy.”

  “Call it what you like, but a deal’s a deal.”

  “Let’s stay on topic.”

  “Okay, some people are already calling the police the biggest gang in America, and not without good cause. Look at these raids. The police are going into situations which are not violent, blowing people’s doors open and going in with rifles out and pointed at people.

  “It was only a few years ago that they went into someone’s house, the wrong house, and shot the homeowner in the heart. They said it was an accident.”

  “Couldn’t the family sue?”

  “Oh yes, but so what? The officer that murdered him did not have to pay; the taxpayers paid it. The officer was never brought up on charges. He might have got paid time off while the matter was investigated, but nothing was ever done about it. The cops are above the law, just like the politicians.”

  “So as you can see Lora, the Columbia Rifle Association is unapologetic when it comes to sensible gun control.”

  “Thank you Wendy,” responded Lora, and I hope you catch pneumonia in that dress you long legged hussy, she thought.

  It has been a long day, Lora thought to herself. She was getting ready to leave. I wish they would take all the guns away from those rednecks. There’s just too much gun violence.

  Before she left her office she took her 9mm automatic from her briefcase and slipped it into the right pocket of her coat.

  Chapter 9 – Revolutionary Shotgun

  Rico stepped silently out from among the trees. “Over here guys,” he said motioning us to join him.

  We drove down to Lake Whitney in North Texas, and now our boat slid up on the shore next to one other. All of us bought fishing licenses, but most of us didn’t fish. We were in an area that could not be reached from the road by the public due to the bridge being closed. I could see three kayaks pulled up under the trees as well.

  Rico led us back through the trees, so that we couldn’t be seen from the other side of the lake. “Okay, I’m glad you all got the word about no camos.”

  “Yeah, what was that all about?” asked Slime.

  “We’re supposed to be fishing, not hunting. A bunch of us showing up at the same time dressed in camouflage when it’s not hunting season would arouse suspicion.

  “We’ve not been together as a team lately, and everyone’s done a heck of a job hiding the guys we broke out. Many have been integrated into various units, and we managed to get the rest of them out of the area.

  Slime raised his hand.

  “Yes?”

  “What do you mean out of the area?”

  “They were just too hot to leave where they were. The ones who did not want to join us have been moved to locations where they can contact their friends or families or even slip out of the country if they so choose.”

  “No conscription, huh?”

  “A
fraid not, we don’t care for that sort of thing. If citizens are not the property of government, they certainly are not our property. We only want those who want to be a part of what we are doing.”

  “Why would they not want to join us?” asked Lora incredulously.

  “Any number of reasons I suppose. Many probably didn’t really have a beef with the government; they just got on the wrong list, who knows.

  “Additionally, we have set up new communications along the lines recommended by Pacho.”

  “Yea Pacho,” teased Ricki.

  I just smiled. “I made some suggestions; Angel’s team has the electronics whizzes. They did the real work.”

  “Pacho, no one can accuse you of bragging. Does everyone remember when we first started, what we referred to as the ‘lesson of Fallujah’?” He looked around.

  “Say again,” said Hector.

  “Remember the story that Slime told?” asked Rico. “About how the insurgents stood and fought and were slaughtered.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” said Laura. “And you said we might have to be prepared to just walk off and leave weapons and equipment, right?”

  “Right, well at that time I suggested we were working on our own resistance weapon, one that we might be more inclined to just get up and walk away from.”

  “Excuse me,” interrupted Laura, “I thought we were sort of being groomed as a sniper unit.”

  “We are, but the time may come when we have to fight at close range and expend lots of ammo in the process,” answered Rico.

  He continued, “This is our idea of a weapon for use in this current situation.” With that he picked up a dry bag and produced a short black gun with an extendable stock.

  “This is a smooth bore automatic shotgun.”

  “Shotgun, why a shotgun?” asked Slime incredulously.

  “Stand by on that, and I think I’ll answer most of your questions. Now this is the stock. It slides out and clicks in like so. This little bend goes against the shoulder.”

  He demonstrated by sliding the two stiff prongs out. “It works like the old grease gun.”

  “I thought it looked familiar,” inserted Smitty. “We gonna’ grease them this?”

  “In a manner of speaking, yes. Now you can fire it with or without the stock extended. Notice the thirty round mag is slightly curved, that’s because shotgun shells are rimmed. You’ll have to make sure you get the shells in so that they do not hang up on one another. But it’s not too hard.

  “The magazine slips in this way and is removed by depressing this lever. It is blowback operated and rate of fire is controlled by the finger.”

  He held up his finger. “This is your fire selector control switch. It has an eight-inch barrel, and a silencer can be added with certain ammunition. Now here’s the sweet part.

  “Just remove the stock like this, and use it like a wrench to remove the barrel. Note the chamber comes with it.”

  “Don’t drop the bolt,” interjected Tim.

  “Not a problem. You see when you release the trigger, the bolt stays locked back. The dust cover is also your safety, see here.” He demonstrated how to actuate it.

  “Now the barrel and chamber can be exchanged. You can shoot whatever gauge of shells you happen to have available. You can also shoot everything from birdshot up to slugs.”

  “What good will birdshot do you if they’re wearing bullet proof vests?” insisted Laura.

  “They don’t all wear them all the time, but most importantly we can make simple birdshot behave like a slug until it hits something. Then it spreads out in a cone, most effective.

  “And ammo cost is low. All sorts of shells can be found anywhere. There is no rifling, so it can’t be traced. The shells can be though, so it would be good to pick them up when possible. Not to mention we can reload our own. We can even make special exploding rounds.”

  “We’ve got reloading equipment?” asked Smitty.

  “Oh yes, and people to do the work.”

  “Why don’t these people join us in the fight?”

  “Most of them are too old, too sick, or disabled.”

  “So what can they do?”

  “They reload ammunition in their homes and shops. They carry messages, they run radios for us, and they sit around all day in parks across from government facilities and send us reports. The list goes on. They also repair weapons. They are building many of these weapons, and they do a hundred other things. Don’t make the mistake of thinking just because they can’t get around like you young guys that they have nothing to offer.

  “Heck these are the people who remember America before the police state. They are some of the most dedicated people we have. Any more questions?”

  “You said a silencer could be used with certain ammo. What did you mean by that?” asked Slime.

  “Well, you can see the problem with a shotgun using regular birdshot or buckshot. It will start to expand and possibly destroy the silencer; however, if you can keep the pellets together till they are beyond the silencer then there is no problem.

  “So we use a sabot, slug, or wax load. Tests have shown that these protect the silencer. Not everyone will need a silencer, but I’ve one today for this demonstration.

  “The silencer screws on like so. Now pull back the cocking handle and the dust cover drops down out of the way. Just push the dust cover back into position, and it acts as a safety by preventing the bolt from slamming forward. To take if off safe, just pull here, see.” He demonstrated placing the dust cover in place and how to remove it.

  “Just slip in the magazine until it clicks into place. And fire it just like this.” With that he turned and fired a few rounds into the trees down low at the base.

  “Looks like a good way to have an accident,” observed Laura.

  “How so?”

  “The safety, I mean it’s not a real safety.”

  “If I put the dust cover back in place and it does not fire, that will be safe.” He did so and, always pointing the weapon downrange, pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

  “When you are ready to fire, pull back on the cocking handle. Now I’m only using slugs today with the silencer, because I don’t want to attract too much attention.

  “Everyone’s going to get a chance to fire the new weapon, so if you will form a disorderly queue behind Laura here.”

  “I get to go first?”

  “Ladies first,” said Rico with a grin.

  “Don’t break it,” teased Smitty.

  “Male chauvinist,” added Ricki and stuck her tongue out.

  The good natured banter continued, hiding the seriousness of what we were doing. Finally, it was my turn.

  “Pacho, can you hit anything?” asked Slime.

  “See the pine cone?” With that I shouldered the little machine shotgun and let loose. I got a pine cone.

  “That suit you Slime?” I said passing the little gun to him.

  “Yep, that’ll about do it.”

  I went over to Ricki and whispered to her, “I was aiming at the other one.” She just grinned.

  To Rico I asked, “Can the sights be adjusted?”

  “I’m afraid not, but we don’t expect you to be using this at too great a range. Okay, now that everybody has had a chance to try it out, are there any questions?”

  “Why bother with this; we all have our own weapons?” asked Smitty.

  “Several good reasons. The government is confiscating weapons; we might need these. Secondly, we’re getting recruits who never used any sort of weapon before. Finding ammo is getting harder all the time; shotgun shells are everywhere. Not to mention we might have to get up, walk off, and leave everything sometime. Just get up, walk off, and blend into the general populous.”

  “I don’t like the idea of my AR-15 being taken by the government. They can pry it from my cold dead fingers,” said Smitty.

  Rico looked unusually grave. “I understand how you feel, but you are no good to us dead. Weapons can be replaced; a good ma
n is much harder to replace. I’ve some rifles I don’t want to lose either, but nothing I’m willing to get killed over.

  “Guys, should they kick your door in at home, if you put up a fight not only will they get your weapons, but you and quite possibly several of your family members will be killed as well. Now think about that.”

  “So we’re just supposed to let them have everything?” demanded Slime.

  “Heck no, give them some old piece of junk and have the good stuff hidden someplace,” responded Rico.

  “You mean go out and buy a cheap, I don’t know, single shot shotgun or .22 and sacrifice that?”

  “Yes, why not? Just have the good stuff hidden.”

  “You mean bury them; they could still possibly find the stash,” continued Smitty.

  “Possibly, but what are other ways to hide something you don’t want taken?” Rico looked around expecting the team to come up with answers.

  “What about storing a weapon at a friend’s place? That way if they get yours at home, you will have another stashed somewhere else,” offered Ricki.

  “Not a bad idea,” agreed Laura.

  “Any other ideas?” continued Rico.

  “This little thing I could hide in my car under the spare in the trunk,” Laura added.

  “My uncle lives near a national forest. If you are going to bury one, better to bury it someplace other than your own property, or so it would seem to me,” offered Slime.

  “Now that’s an idea,” said Ricki.

  “Yeah if it’s not on your property, they can’t find it,” added Rico.

  “But you can’t get to it quickly,” cautioned Smitty.

  “Yes, that’s so,” Rico agreed. “Anything else?”

  “Don’t ever register anything,” said Ricki.

  “That creates a problem when you buy a weapon from a gun store. It creates a paper trail,” added Tim.

  “This is all great,” interjected Laura, “but what about producing these little babies? I want one or even two.”

  “Okay,” said Rico, “that’s the next thing I wish to discuss. These are being produced at this time by a retired gunsmith out in the country at an undisclosed location known only to a few people.”