Autumn (Four Seasons Book 1)

by Robert Sullivan

  Liam nodded, but inside he was fuming. Ryan sensed that he was still furious and said, “Don’t worry about it. There’s still four months and anything can happen. Do you know who won the 1988 election?”

  “The elder George Bush in a landslide,” Liam said impatiently.

  “Do you know how much he was ahead by in July?” Ryan asked.

  “I don’t know, a few points?” Liam replied.

  “He was down by 17 points at one point in July,” Ryan told him.

  Liam raised his eyebrows and asked, “What the hell happened?”

  “Mostly it was his opponent Dukakis shooting himself in the foot again and again,” Ryan explained.

  “We can’t expect Hall to do something like that though,” Liam said dejectedly.

  “No, but you never know. I’m sure there is some kind of sticky subject she can’t handle well. For Dukakis, it was the death penalty…and the fact he looked awful in a tank,” Ryan said.

  “I suppose you are going to look into it?” Liam asked sarcastically.

  “I’ll make sure something comes up,” Ryan said. “We’ve been working the media angle lately. We want to make sure that the debate is as fair as possible to you.”

  “Any word on who is moderating it?” Liam asked.

  “This far out? No,” Ryan said. “Although you are in luck because there is only going to be one debate. The debate commission did not care for that brawl that happened in 2036.”

  “Then we’ve only got one shot at it and we need to be ready for it,” Liam said, looking out the window as he noticed the boardwalk coming up. “What time is the hot dog contest?”

  “Noon. It only lasts ten minutes,” Ryan said, looking back at his phone.

  “Then why are we here so early?” Liam asked.

  “Have you never seen one of these before?” Ryan asked, bemused.

  “No, I’ve had better things to do with my time,” Liam said bitingly.

  “Well, you are in for a treat then,” Ryan said, cracking a grin. “This is basically a carnival. Half the fun occurs before the contest even starts.”

  “Great,” Liam said, as they pulled up the place he would make his appearance. “I just want it on record though, I’m going to enjoy the fireworks a lot more than I’ll enjoy this.”

  “Just keep an open mind,” Ryan called out as Liam exited the vehicle.

  Later that morning, Liam was in front of the stage where the contest would be taking place. The introductions of the contestants had been made and Liam understood what Ryan meant about the fun before the event. It was an electric atmosphere and the exuberant introductions of the contestants had seen to that. The introductions made the contest seem more like a heavyweight boxing fight than a food eating contest.

  Liam was looking at the stage avidly, waiting for the contest to start. One of the competitors was going to try to break the record of seventy-one hot dogs in ten minutes, which had been set in 2017. Liam could not comprehend eating more than two hot dogs at the same time, let alone six dozen in a ten-minute window. He was genuinely interested to see how it went.

  As the contest was due to start, he felt a tap on his shoulder and saw a middle-aged man standing there. “Hello, Mr. Hensen,” he said. “I’m Bob Pates.”

  “Hello, Bob,” Liam said, glancing back at the stage as the contest had begun. “What can I do for you?”

  “I am trying to recruit people to run in local elections,” Bob said. “I think if there were enough people in charge with the right mindset, they could bring the city’s resources together to stop these Black Hand hooligans.”

  Liam nodded and said, “Rest assured Mr. Pates, if I were to be elected President, the federal government will take a more active role in fighting these, uh, ‘hooligans’, then the current administration has been.”

  “I knew you seemed like the right kind of person for this,” Bob said. “That’ll show them.”

  “Show who?” Liam asked.

  “Some former colleagues of mine,” Bob said grumpily. “I founded a group called the Conspiracy to accomplish this, but they hijacked it and turned it into a militia. They even get funding and weapons from the Fed for this.”

  “Really?” Liam said. “Well, I would not allow a private militia to do this, so don’t worry about that. We’ll take care of the Black Hand once I am sworn into office in January.”

  “Thank you,” Bob said. “I’ll let you watch the contest now.”

  Liam looked back up at the stage. A few minutes had passed and the leading competitor was up to forty hot dogs. Though he continued to watch the contest, he was thinking about the information that he had been given. If the Fed was picking sides in the street war between the Black Hand and the Conspiracy, then the situation could become complicated in a hurry.

  As the contest wound down, Liam resolved to bring up the issue with the Globalist Master later in the day. For the time being, he would try to enjoy himself. He had at least earned that after having campaigned in earnest for months on end.

  “I never liked how they keep putting in pop music during this display,” Liam said, watching the fireworks over the Hudson with a measured amount of awe.

  “I don’t make the track list,” Mayor Greta Jones said. “I just come to watch the show.”

  “It’s a spectacular show,” Liam said.

  The fireworks, as always, were being launched from barges in the river. With four streams of rockets going up at the same time, the sky above the river was filled with light and concussion blasts.

  “What do you think your chances are this November?” the mayor asked.

  “Pretty solid. We have a minor hiccup going on right now, but we’ll get over it,” Liam said.

  “Everything is going to plan here in the city,” the mayor said, lowering her voice.

  “Any news on the Conspiracy?” Liam asked.

  “No. Not since you were, uh, rescued,” the mayor said. “With the resurgence of the Black Hand, they are not liable to try anything soon.”

  “Don’t underestimate them. I’ve been told that they are getting support from the Fed,” Liam advised.

  “Jared will handle them,” Greta reasoned. “You focus on getting the White House. It’s the key to the whole plan.”

  “Felicia Hall is going to be a threat to that,” Liam said.

  “I’m sure you can handle that,” the mayor finished.

  “If I can’t, I don’t think Jared will be of use in this situation,” Liam said slowly. “We may need an October surprise on standby if this remains too close.”

  “What kind, sex, money, murder…?” the mayor asked.

  “We’ll talk about it later,” Liam said, as he noticed someone trying to eavesdrop. “I’ll keep in touch though.”

  Chapter Thirty

  War Games

  The heat of the summer continued to build as July wore on. Greg was determined not to let the heat get in the way of his plans to get the Conspiracy trained in combat. The opportunity for the Conspiracy to train finally arrived in the middle of the month, when Zach secured some land upstate for them to practice on. He had convinced the Fed to donate the land for them to practice on and they had agreed, on the condition that they keep the property up. For them, that just meant cleaning up after they were done since it was an uninhabited forest.

  Early on a Friday morning, the entire Conspiracy in the city packed up and left to go the training grounds. Zach’s fighters were going along to help with the training and Eric’s spy ring was going to be trained. Despite Ashley’s efforts online, few had joined the Conspiracy since this change in tone by Greg; it would take a major victory against the Black Hand before recruitment would start picking up again he reasoned.

  The location of the training ground was on the west banks of Lake Champlain. It was densely forested, which would provide good cover for the Conspiracy in case anyone followed them out of the city. It was unlikely, as Eric indicated that the Black Hand did not have a location on them quite yet,
but Greg wanted to be safe about it.

  It was midday when they arrived at the site. Greg got out of his car and stretched his legs, looking around. It was already quite hot and there was a chorus of insects humming in the trees nearby. He could discern the lake through the trees and wondered if it would be possible for his people to take a dip in the lake at some point during the weekend.

  The rest of the Conspiracy were getting of their cars, or in Zach’s case military grade trucks, and looking around as well. Zach decided not to waste time and said, “Everyone start setting up their shelter. I want to be ready for the first drills in 60 minutes!”

  Greg turned to him and said, “Shouldn’t everyone eat before they do that? It’s already lunchtime.”

  “Nothing like a good workout to get the appetite up,” Zach said, with a roguish wink. “Besides it’s not going to be a serious drill…this first bit is weapons training.”

  “Right,” Greg said. He reached back into his car and dug out his tent that he would be sharing with Ashley. She accompanied him to a suitable site for their tent and together they pitched it quickly and got everything they would need settled into the shelter. Though their sixty minutes was far from over, they went out to Zach to see how the rest of the company was working.

  Zach’s soldiers were all done as well. Most of the spy ring, having had limited or no experience out in the woods at all before, were struggling with their tents. Greg made a motion towards them so as to help, but Zach stopped him saying, “They need to learn how to do this on their own.”

  Greg nodded and noticed that the soldiers were bringing out a variety of weapons. “What are all those?” Greg asked.

  “Shit we can’t have legally in the city,” Zach said, turning towards the weapons. “I managed to smuggle them out here for the occasion.”

  “Is that a machine gun?” Greg asked, pointing.

  “Yes,” Zach said, walking forward. “It’s an M2 .50 caliber machine gun, a fairly cheap piece of equipment at twenty grand.”

  “Twenty grand isn’t cheap,” Greg said, frowning.

  “It is for the military,” Zach said. “Anyway, this gun can fire 550 rounds per minute and has an effective range of a little over a mile. With that half inch bullet at that rate of speed, whoever it hits is going to stay down.”

  “Where did you get it?” Greg asked.

  “The Black Hand,” Zach explained. “They had it to cover their escape from the Garden. We thought it may have been a fake to deter pursuit, but it turned out to be very authentic.”

  “Have you used it yet?”

  “In the city?” Zach asked incredulously. “Hell no. And it’s not a part of the training either, I had it brought out here for my people to test.”

  “What are the trainees to use then?” Greg asked.

  “You all will be training with small arms,” Zach explained, leading him over to those guns. “I’ve gotten a hold of some M17 handguns and M4 rifles. They’re a bit out of date, but a gun is still a gun and will get the job done.”

  Greg recognized the handguns. They were of the same type that Zach had given him when they had gone to rescue Liam Hensen. “Live ammunition?” Greg asked.

  “Absolutely not. Blanks only,” Zach said shortly.

  “When would we be getting live ammunition then?”

  “Only when I say so,” Zach said. “Now come on, I want to see how the troops are coming along.”

  Greg sighed. He turned to see that some of the tents had been successfully pitched and that those who had finished were helping the others finish up. Zach pointed and said, “Do you see that? They’re already forming a unit.”

  “That’s good, right?” Greg asked.

  “Hell yeah,” Zach replied. “I want to organize them into another company, so that we’ll be up have two of them in the Conspiracy now.”

  “Two what?” Greg asked.

  “Companies. When we’ve got everyone organized, I’ll be able to form a whole battalion,” Zach explained. “In the Army, a battalion is a middle-sized unit of soldiers led by a lieutenant colonel. It’s divided into companies, then platoons, then sections, then finally squads and teams. I’m going to need to build an officer corps and support staff too.”

  “That sounds really confusing,” Greg said.

  “Greg, we can’t go into this fight like a barbarian rabble,” Zach said sternly. “We need to be superiorly organized and have an established chain of command. I’ve already got the nucleus of something like that for my people, but now I have to double the size of our militia which comes with something like four times as many complications.”

  “I understand,” Greg said. “You know, people are going to wonder who’s really leading the Conspiracy.”

  “Not me,” Zach said firmly. “I’m the head of the military wing of the Conspiracy. That may be an important part, but it’s not the whole Conspiracy. That’s your problem and I gladly leave you to it.”

  Zach trudged away, leaving Greg to think about what he had said. The Conspiracy had indeed grown in size, albeit slowly, in the last six months and was starting to take on a life of its own. He realized he had been running the Conspiracy rather loosely and that if they were to survive the inevitable Black Hand onslaught, then they would have to be more organized. He resolved to start working on a plan like that once the weekend was over.

  “Your sixty minutes are up!” Zach suddenly shouted. The spy ring had almost finished making all of their tents and looked dejected that they had not been able to finish. Zach noticed this and said, “You can finish later. Now I’m sure you’re all hungry and we will eat soon. First though, I want to show you something that I’ll be watching for most of all during this first weekend of training.”

  Greg looked on, intrigued, as Zach brought forward one of the rifles. “This is an M4 assault rifle. It used to be standard issue for military personnel in the United States. It is currently being phased out, which is why I have managed to get a hold of some.”

  Everyone was sitting and watching intently as Zach held the rifle and continued, “This weapon fires a 5.56-millimeter bullet at nearly 3,000 feet a second. Its effective range is only a third of a mile though, so if you manage to aim this weapon well enough to hit something, your bullet will get there in less than a second. It holds thirty rounds and you can burn through an entire clip in a few seconds if you shoot like a jackass. I am here to show you how not to shoot like a jackass though.”

  “You all have not earned the right to fire this weapon though. You are going to learn how to hold it first. You are going to learn how to take it apart, clean it, and put it back together. You are going to get used to holding its weight, loaded and unloaded. You are going to learn how to aim. Then and only then will you be allowed to fire it. Anyone violating these rules will be punished.”

  To Greg, it seemed that Zach was being harsh until he remembered his first experience shooting at someone. He knew that he had to be tough to prepare the trainees for what was to come.

  Zach, however, was not done. “This is how you are to hold this weapon,” demonstrating it for everyone to see. “You are to have the safety on at all times unless I say otherwise. Do NOT have your hand anywhere near the trigger. You are to hold this weapon by the barrel and the stock. You are also not to have this gun pointed at anyone. You are to either have it pointed into the air or pointed at the ground. It doesn’t matter if it is loaded or not, you are not to point this weapon at anyone. Do you all understand?!”

  “Yes, sir!” the trainees barked.

  “Good. I wanted to get that basic gun safety out before we started anything else, because that is an important aspect of firearm training. Now, go eat. My men have prepared some food for you,” Zach said.

  “They did?” Greg asked.

  Zach nodded. “I told you, I already have them very organized.”

  The rest of the day passed without serious incident. The trainees were taught proper gun handling and though there was no small amount of t
repidation among them, they managed it well enough. Zach was suitably pleased with their progress, noting that they were more comfortable around guns then we would have suspected from “New York pansies,” as Zach put it.

  Night fell and Zach let everyone retire to their tents. Greg trudged to his tent, where he knew that Ashley would be waiting for him. He had grown used to her presence in his bed, though he did not lose his appreciation for the comfort that she gave him. He entered the tent and found that she was already in her pajamas and in her sleeping bag.

  “How was it out there?” she asked.

  “Not as bad as it could have been,” Greg said, taking his shirt off.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Most of the people who are out here are from New York. Some of them had never held a gun before,” Greg explained. “They were a bit skittish.”

  “I don’t blame them,” Ashley said, glowering.

  “Are you going to be joining us tomorrow?” Greg asked, sliding into his sleeping bag next to Ashley.

  “I don’t know,” Ashley said. “I just don’t know if all of this war stuff is for me.”

  “It’s kind of unavoidable with everything that’s going on,” Greg replied.

  “I mean, I get defending myself, but I don’t think I’m going to go off into battle or anything like Zach does,” Ashley explained. “I’d be useless as a soldier.”

  “That’s why you don’t have to be in the war games,” Greg said. “But without firing a bullet, you’ve done so much for the Conspiracy.”

  “I know,” Ashley said, sighing. “But it’s been six months. I would’ve thought we would’ve been a lot stronger by now. I mean, we had Kansas City for a while, but that tornado ruined everything there. I’ve got a contact there, but he says they’re basically rebuilding everything from scratch.”

  “Hopefully you can draw in more people if we make a big enough show against the Black Hand,” Greg said.