“Where? When? What’s the plan? I’m in,” one of the bikers — Acker — in attendance said, getting to his feet, those sitting around him standing with him and agreeing.
General Ferriday nodded his agreement and appreciation to Acker who was the first man to stand and volunteer.
“Me, too,” someone from the front of the room called out, standing to show himself.
“Yeah, I’m ready,” another man agreed, standing and looking around the room.
This repeated itself until the whole group in attendance that evening had sworn to keep at it until all the men and all the facilities had been taken into control.
“We have a loose plan. It’s going to take weeks, if not more, of planning. But, we’ll penetrate the security of each facility we’re aware of. We’ll take control, we’ll free our men. It’ll take more planning, and hopefully we’ll find more locations before the plan goes into action. If we strike at the same time, we’ll be gaining access to the private facilities of the seven teams we have identified as working for private entities. We make it clear that we are military. No need to tell them we’re not exactly active duty. We assume control. We make contact with the teams they are holding. We explain that we believe they are there against their will and are there to free them. If a man wants to be freed, we bring them back here for processing. Once we know they’re not a threat to themselves or anyone who doesn’t provoke them, they’re free to leave, but we have to be careful about their silence until we are sure we’ve found them all. We can’t let anyone on the outside become aware that we’re on to them until we’ve rescued each man. If they want to stay where they are, we can’t force them to leave. But we will make it clear to them, we’ll still be watching if they change their minds. If we determine there’s a situation we don’t expect — coercion, torture, even slavery is a possibility, we’ll defer to General Ferriday as to what will be the final outcome,” Roscoe explained.
“If you are met with deadly force in the path of freeing these men, give it back to the aggressor ten fold. As far as I’m concerned, they’re holding our men like POWs. I want them freed. If someone is willing to use deadly force to keep you away from them, there’s a problem. Chances are, from the missions we’ve seen carried out, it’s illegal activity anyway. Those who are holding these men are not the type to call the police or anyone else,” General Ferriday added.
“What do we have to offer these men, to influence them to come back here with us?” one man asked.
“They respect the military. Make it known you’re military. Tell them they have to be debriefed before they can be discharged — honorably, of course,” General Ferriday answered.
“And if they get here and get pissed off that we lied to them?” another of the bikers asked.
“When they arrive, I’ll introduce myself. I’ll explain that I stumbled across them and knew they were being exploited. I’ll explain that more than forty acres in the back wooded area of my property is being covered with housing. They’re welcome to stay here as long as they want. I’ve also had several large community buildings assembled. One is meant to be a medical clinic. The other we can turn into whatever else is needed as the need arises. I’ll make it clear they are welcome to stay as long as they need to, or want to,” General Ferriday explained.
General Ferriday looked around at all the men gathered in his new war room, as he liked to call it. “Some of you were medics when you were active. I’ve invited you here for a purpose. They may need medical treatment. In fact, each and every one of you was particularly invited here because you have a special talent, a special attitude, that is needed for this operation. I believe down deep in my bones, these men have been through hell. They’re going to need a place to decompress. I’ve got twenty-seven hundred acres here. I’ve got a lot of room, plenty of room to provide a place for any of these men who want it, or need it. And for any of you, too, if you want to stay. We’ll need security, we’ll need policing of some sort to be sure these men don’t kill each other as they try to decompress if they’ve been through what I believe they have. At the very least we’ll have a need until they’re able to return to their families.
If any of you want to stay, go ahead and throw your stuff in one of the bunkhouses. That’s where I plan to house everybody,” General Ferriday said.
“You really believe they’ve been forced into private service?” one of the men asked.
General Ferriday smiled sadly. He focused on the man questioning him. “I hope I turn out to be the biggest fool that ever walked the Earth, son. But, I’m afraid I’m not. I’m afraid these men have been subjected to testing and manipulation the likes of which this world hasn’t seen since World War II. I’m afraid these men have been broken down and rebuilt to be someone other than who they were born to be. I believe these men have graduated whatever testing program they unknowingly signed up for, and have been sold to the highest bidder. I believe the collars they wear are to insure their continued behavior as the weapons they’ve been turned into. I believe we are the only chance at survival these men have.”
“What about personnel at these places. What if we encounter any resistance?” Acker asked.
“Life or death situation, or to keep them from reporting that we’ve arrived and penetrated their facility — deadly force, just like I spoke of moments ago. If you are able to take them into custody, do so. We need answers. And we need to be sure that we get every fucking one of the people involved in this from the man in charge to the person that sweeps the floors at night. Any fucking body that knew and did nothing to report it, to try to stop it… they’re culpable,” the General said.
“Done. Where do I sleep?” Acker asked, standing and slinging his duffle over his shoulder.
“Pick a barracks, then come back here for chow. I’ll have it laid out by the time you get back,” General Ferriday said.
Acker walked over to General Ferriday and shook his hand. “We’ll get ‘em out, General. Thank you for calling on me to assist.”
“You’re welcome, Sergeant. I knew I could count on you,” General Ferriday responded.
The line formed behind Acker, each man wanting to show his appreciation at being called on, and his loyalty to the cause. Acker stopped when he got to the door. He glanced back into the room he and the others were leaving to go choose a place to bunk for the time being. “Hey!” he shouted.
Most of the men stopped their conversations to look over at him.
“What are we going to call ourselves?” he asked. “We ain’t exactly military anymore.”
“We’re still bad ass,” one man answered.
“We’re more or less freedom fighters,” another answered.
“How about the Alliance?” Roscoe offered from his spot, still at the front of the room picking up his laptop that had provided his power point presentation.
“That’s it!” Acker said. “The Alliance.” He grinned. “I’ll be with you brothers of the Alliance shortly. Going to choose my bed, hit the showers, and I’ll be back for chow time.”
He disappeared through the door with several other men right behind him. Ten minutes later General Ferriday and Special Agent Roscoe stood in the back of the war room as the barbecue catering company the General had hired set up the pounds and pounds of barbecued meat and sides, along with drinks and desserts for the men to fill up on.
As the first of the men got in line to serve themselves, Roscoe spoke to the General who was standing right beside him. “You can’t continue to cater each meal these men need. It’s just not cost effective, General.”
“I know. I’m working on something else. Planning to have a small crew here cooking three squares a day, with snacks available at all other times.”
“If what you think has happened to these men, is happening to these men, they’re going to need long term care.”
“They will. And maybe we can get that for them through proper channels once we see what the hell is going on. But until then, I can afford to
feed and house them.”
“It’s going to take a lot out of your holdings, sir,” Roscoe said.
General Ferriday turned to face Roscoe. “Son, I’m sixty-seven years old. I never married and I have no children. My grandparents made a fortune ten times over in oil, my parents made even more. What the hell am I going to do with it? I’ve got nobody to leave it to. This land, the money… if it can help these men. Then I’ve done my part. They can have it.”
“What if he’s not there? What if it’s just a look-a-like? You still going to want to give so much?” Roscoe asked.
“Absolutely. These men all have families somewhere, or at the very least someone that cares about them. And I know Maddox is one of them. If he’s not, he’s out there somewhere and I’m going to find him. In the meantime, I’ll have found these men and helped them.”
“That’s very admirable, sir.”
General Ferriday shook his head. “No, it’s not. It’s just taking care of your fellow human being. These men served our country, they deserve so much more than I can give.”
They stood for a few minutes more watching the men eating and joking, preparing for the mission they’d all depart on tomorrow. “I trust you can handle any other questions, Roscoe.”
“Yes, sir. Unless you need me.”
“No, thank you. I’ve got some calls to make. Attorneys and trusts to put in place. Non profit corporations to set up,” General Ferriday said, winking at Roscoe before turning and walking toward the door. “The Alliance has a nice ring to it,” he said, smiling at Roscoe over his shoulder as he went.
Chapter 14
Acker pressed the button on the shoulder-cam and radio mounted on his shoulder. “Testing, report in,” he said.
He waited patiently as all sixteen of the men with him reported in, and in so doing confirmed their radios and video cams were working as well. Then he pressed the blue-tooth system in his ear. “Testing,” he said.
“On line and clear, sir,” a voice responded.
“Waiting to proceed on your order,” Acker answered. He wore two communicators. One blue-tooth in his ear that kept him in touch with Alliance headquarters, and another radio and body cam that kept him in touch with his men on the ground with him. The body cam was to record whatever they found. Each man wore one and footage from it was being uploaded to a satellite feed in live time.
“Counting down now, sir,” the voice in his ear advised. His men crouched on the ground with him outside a twelve foot high electrified fence. They’d been dropped off two kilometers east and had hiked in to their target — an opulent villa in the hills of Bogota. Once they gave the okay, the helicopters that dropped them off would land in the courtyard to take them and the men they found inside back to the ranch. He held his hand up in the air, knowing all sixteen men watched him, waiting for a signal. He extended all five fingers and as the voice in his ear counted down, he did so as well, bringing down one finger to curl into his fist each time the voice reduced the number.
“Five, four, three, two, one — go, go, go!”
As soon as his fist was held aloft, no more fingers held up, he sprinted forward as the man beside him blasted a hole through the fence they needed to cross through. They’d only gone fifteen feet inside the compound’s grounds before they were met with armed guards. So be it, they were prepared and they had their orders. Their men were coming home no matter what they encountered. Acker and his men advanced, taking out all resistance they encountered.
<<<<<<<>>>>>>>
It was dark, so dark if they’d not had DNA enhancements, they wouldn’t have been able to see. The male couldn’t sleep, he was on edge. It was almost as though he sensed something coming that shouldn’t be. He stretched his neck as much as he could and tried to scratch beneath the thin metal band that was always around his throat. The slight pulse glowing pale yellow in the darkness was all that identified his exact location.
He heard rustling nearby as one of his males moved.
“One,” he heard whispered in a hushed, yet gruff tone.
“What?” he answered.
“I’m too wired to sleep. Something’s off,” Three said.
“Sleep. I’m keeping watch,” One answered.
“You feel it, too?” Three asked.
“Maybe,” One answered.
“Do you…”
The next comment was stopped short when the sound of a high-pitched whistle filled the night sky outside.
“Incoming!” One shouted, diving for the floor and beneath his bunk.
He heard his males’ voices as they all reacted, scrambling for cover. The sky outside was alight with flares, from what side he wasn’t sure, but someone was using them to see. One could tell that much from the flashes illuminating his cell from the sliver of window near the ceiling.
They could hear gunshots from automatic rifles. The screaming of men in pain and under attack rang in their ears.
“The fuck is happening?” Four yelled above the nonstop sounds of a battle being waged. “We completed our last fucking mission!”
“Compound is under attack!” One shouted back.
Suddenly the pulsing, yellow light on the neck band One wore increased in frequency. One snarled as it pulsed red once, then twice before stuttering its rhythm and going back to yellow.
“Holy fuck!” Five screamed. “My band flashed red!”
“Mine, too,” several voices answered.
Red was bad, red was very fucking bad. Red meant that you were about to be injected with a poison that would kill you within thirty seconds of contact. The minuscule liquid-filled chambers built into each neck band were connected to compressed air cylinders that when activated used a narrow high-pressure stream of the liquid poison itself to deliver the cutaneous injection to the wearer’s neck.
As long as the bands pulsed yellow, there was no problem. Red meant the command had been entered in the system controlling the bands and logging the vital signs of each male wearing one, that they should be terminated. At that point the compressed air cylinders would begin building pressure. Or at least that’s how it had been explained to them. They’d watched the system demonstrated on a female when they’d first arrived, and while they’d never actually tested it, it looked pretty fucking effective to them since the woman fell dead within thirty seconds of the pulsing light changing to red.
Most of the weapons firing had died down and the tracers in the air had stopped completely. They could hear men screaming and shouting to each other.
One’s heart still pounded at the momentary flash to red his band had taken. He decided fuck this, he wasn’t sheltering when he could be fighting for his life. He slid from beneath his bunk and rushed the bars of his cell. “Hey!” he bellowed. “Open these fucking doors! Let us fight!” he demanded.
His males took up the demand as well. “We’re trained to fight! Let us the fuck out!”
They pounded on their bars, used whatever they could find to bang on the walls and the metal of their bunks trying to get those that kept them under control to let them out so they could at least have a fighting chance.
Eventually they heard the beeping sounds of a code being entered in the keypad mounted outside the wing of the large building their cells were in. If a code was being entered, that meant it was their owner, or one of his men trusted with access to them.
The heavy metal door opened and their owner, Montagna, barefoot and wearing blue silk pajamas, was forced through it. A male was walking behind him, an automatic pistol to the back of his head. A large man was forcing him into the room, and that large man was flanked by a team of six other men.
“Let me go! You don’t want to kill me! I have much money! I can pay you,” the small Latin man wearing blue silk pajamas begged in his thick accent.
“Shut the fuck up! Do I look like I want your fucking money you piece of shit?!” the man holding Montagna by the back of the neck shouted.
Five of the six men flanking the first one who held Montagn
a at gunpoint moved into position — one outside each of their cells, one at the heavy metal door, and their leader kept his hold on the small, weeping, Latin man who owned them.
“Listen up!” the first man shouted. “I’m Sergeant Acker. We’re here to free you and take you the fuck out of here. This fucker swears you’re here of your own free will. Seems to me that’s a lie.”
“A filthy, fucking lie,” Three said.
“Anybody have any reason I shouldn’t kill this motherfucker where we stand?” Acker shouted.
“Bands have to be removed,” One answered calmly. “After that, you can’t kill him. We earned that right.”
Acker looked over toward the male that had spoken to him, claiming the right to kill the Columbian drug lord that had purchased them like so much human chattel.
“Here’s how it’s going to go down. We’re going to release you. You’ll wait while this scum’s thumbprint is used to release the collars from your throats. Then you’ll come back to base with us to be debriefed and evaluated. After a little R & R you get to choose what you want to do next. Head home to your families, head out on your own, or join us. There are a lot more like you out there waiting for a chance to be free again.”
“Who are you?” One asked. “Military?” he asked, scoffing. He had no faith in the military or any other type of organization. He trusted no one but the other four males in his squad.
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