Treasonous Behavior- in the Beginning

by Robert Johnson

  Cody had an alarmed look.

  “But,” the Indian began to explain, “people got off. Most of them were put into the last building,” Pete said. “Saw a bunch of kids too.”

  “That could be Robin’s bus,” Cody said to Raz. “We found them!”

  “Not so fast, sonny,” Raz stopped him. “We’ll have ta check it out.”

  “Right under our own noses,” Pete said. “They started building that place years ago. It was small at first. Never had too many people, but there was always something going on. Over the past year there’s been lots of new construction, crews and trucks coming and going. It was as if they were in a rush to get ready for something. Guess we know what for now. The place is huge. I’d say it could contain twenty thousand prisoners, maybe double that if they pushed.”

  Raz and Cody looked at each other in disbelief. That many people? Prisoners of the government? Held in the middle of nowhere? The situation was getting worse by the minute. How in the world were just

  the two of them going to even find Cody’s family? Nevertheless get them out?

  Pete motioned to one of his brothers. The men went to their trucks, turned them around, and returned with a length of hefty coiled rope. They tied it to the Humvee’s rear tow rings, then went back to their pickups to secure the rope evenly between the ancient pickups.

  “Good looking vehicle,” Pete said to Raz. “Where’d you get it?”

  Raz grinned. Pete was okay. “I consider it my tax refund.”

  “I figured something like that,” Pete responded. “Let’s yank it out of the ditch.” At that point he gave his brothers the signal and they hauled the Humvee onto solid ground as easy as dragging a downed elk from the woods.

  “Thanks,” Raz said. “ ’Preciate the help.”

  “No problem friend,” Pete mentioned. “You still planning on going to the camp?”

  “You know it,” Cody answered.

  “There’s another way around, but we want to stay out of sight. Follow us and shut down your lights when I do,” Pete advised. “Ready?”

  Raz got in the Humvee’s driver seat while Cody jumped in his side. They stayed close to the Indians’ Dodges eating desert dust as they moved forward. They drove down a sharp sandy slope into the dry wash and maneuvered around some dead and down willow trees. Minutes later the three vehicles angled up a gentle incline back to flat earth. From there they continued up a hilly grade scattered with loose stones and boulders. The forward trucks’ lights went off and Raz followed suit. Then the trucks came to an abrupt stop below the rim of a mountain ridge.

  A glow of faint light hung low over the confined valley where the camp was located. The four Pascua Yaqui brothers climbed the hill up the last few rugged feet of terrain to peek into the hidden desert basin. Raz and Cody struggled to reach the Indians.

  “Take a look,” Pete said to Raz.

  Raz peered over the rocks and couldn’t believe his eyes. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  Cody did the same. The camp was lit up like a ballpark. Large buildings starkly stood in separately fenced compounds. Rows of structures lined narrow sentry roads throughout the camp. Armed guards walked the perimeter and stood fast at sentry points blocking the north and south entrances. Buses continued to roll in with more prisoners and shortly thereafter departed empty back into the desert.

  The complex had grown tenfold since Raz had last step foot there.

  “Damn huge, isn’t it?” Pete said to Raz.

  “Un-fuckin’-believable.”

  “That’s the best description I’ve ever heard,” Pete added.

  “Must really piss ya off that they put this death camp right next ta your reservation,” Raz mentioned.

  “No,” Pete said. “It pisses us off because they built this monstrosity on our reservation land without even asking.”

  “They what?”

  “Yup. Like every other time. They do exactly what they want. Our people have been getting fucked by the government for generations. They take our land, our freedom, our language, our children, and our dignity. In return we get to open casinos, smoke shops, and gift centers.”

  “Sorry ‘bout that,” Raz said somberly.

  “Yeah, well, we’re used to it. Still doesn’t make it right.”

  Raz bit his lip. “Let’s go tear their fuckin’ throats out.”

  Pete grinned. “Not tonight. You need to rest and we all need to come up with a plan. We’ll come back at dawn. Then we’ll tear their fucking throats out.”

  The two men laughed. Cody and the brothers did too. Apparently it wasn’t going to be just Raz and Cody against the new Army.

  “I’ll get the tribe to help us,” Pete said.

  “Great,” Cody said. “How many in your tribe?” He was imagining a massive army of wild redskins, hooping and hollering, circling the wagons on horseback, and attacking the evil empire.

  Pete looked at the young man. “Just under four thousand.”

  “Really? That will work,” Cody said, pleased with the numbers.

  “That’s a damn army,” Raz interrupted.

  Pete shook his head. “Not really. We only have about a hundred rifles.”

  Raz nodded. “So that makes it a hundred and two against the dirty bastards. Odds are gettin’ better.”

  “Come,” Pete said. “We’ll go back to my house and work out the details. Tomorrow we’ll take them down together.”

  “Show us the way,” Raz said.

  Chapter 36

  The trucks veered southeast toward the small Pascua village. The open, desolate territory was uninviting even in the dark. In minutes the men were driving down a sandy road bordered by modest single level homes which all looked alike. There were dried up, rotting wood fences surrounding some of the houses. A few had three-sided barns in the rear housing malnourished horses corralled with hand-woven ocotillo fencing. Every residence had at least one old pickup truck parked in front or to the side. More vehicles were on blocks waiting for repairs that would never happen. The entire place was depressing, as if hope had abandoned the village long ago. There were no lights in the village either.

  Pete and his brothers braked at a small dingy white house with a collapsing front porch. Raz pulled up in his Humvee. “And we think we have it rough sometimes,” he said to Cody. “Makes ya sorta humble, don’t it?”

  Cody looked around and agreed. “Yeah. These people have been worked over.”

  “See what happens when ya at the mercy of the government,” Raz added. “Ya live like ya in a third world country, ‘cause nobody gives a damn ‘bout ya.”

  “But why?” Cody asked.

  “ ’Cause no one says nothin’ ta stop it. This is what ya neighborhood is gonna look like soon. ‘Cept no people live in ya hood no more.”

  Cody shook his head in disbelief as Pete waved them into his house. “Bet ya don’t read ‘bout this in ya history books,” Raz grumbled to Cody.

  They followed the Indians into the house. It was warmer than outside because of the fire in the fireplace. Two kerosene lanterns, one in the living room, the other in the kitchen, cast off enough light. The brothers sat on worn sofas as Pete introduced his wife, Luza, to Raz and Cody. She poured hot coffee for the men, left the pot on the handmade coffee table, and went out back to the working grill.

  “Lost power yesterday,” Pete said. “No one has electricity except for that camp.”

  “They got protection for their electrical things,” Raz said. He didn’t think it was important to get into the workings of a Faraday cage. “Seems all government agencies have power.”

  Pete sat down near the fireplace. “So, tell us what happened.”

  Raz relayed most of the story, bringing Pete and his brothers up to snuff on the situation. At the end he added, “Had ta fight our way outta a few pinches and we ended up here.”

  Luza brought metal platters of hot steaming rice, pinto beans, some stringy beef, and flat bread, for the boys. She smiled at the white men.
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br />   “Thank you, Luza,” Cody said politely.

  “Like wise,” Raz offered.

  “Let’s eat and talk about tomorrow,” Pete suggested.

  Over the next hour the men worked on their plan to get inside the detention camp and eventually agreed on the best course of action. First, they would further scout it out in the morning light. They needed to study the layout, get a count on the number of soldiers, see where the prisoners were held, and check for any heavy fire power. They knew they would be outnumbered. If there really were upwards of twenty thousand prisoners, at the rate of one guard per hundred captives that meant the camp could have at least two hundred troops.

  Maybe many more.

  But now Raz and Cody had the Pascuas on their side.

  They also had the element of surprise. None of the guards would ever think the camp in the middle of the god-forsaken desert would come under attack. The foreign troops had never encountered a proud and resilient people who had been kicked off their lands, stripped of their possessions, denied their god-given rights, forcefully kidnapped from their homes, and falsely held as criminals of the country they so dearly loved.

  Those troops would soon learn of the power of common solidarity and ingrained rugged individualism inspired by legends in history. They would see what real don’t-fuck-with-us Americans were made of.

  The American soldiers guarding the camp, the traitors that they really were, side by side with the Russian and Chinese mercenaries, would shortly learn a brief lesson in dogged American spirit. They were the ones who had sold their souls for fortunes of war and turned their backs on their friends, families, and earlier generations. They would soon feel the sharp edge of death and the ruthlessness of ordinary people determined to remain free and unburdened as they tried to wipe out the American character and fortitude they so clearly disdained.

  Those treasonous soldiers, the ones born and raised in this great land, would be the first to bleed as they asked for mercy from their attackers and received nothing less than they deserved.

  That’s what Raz was thinking as he ate the welcomed food offered by the gracious Pascuas. That’s what Cody was thinking too, as he sat in the warm adobe house of his new friends. That’s what was passing through the minds of Pete and his brothers, as well. They were Native Americans used, ignored, and killed by the very likes of those camp soldiers, as they shared bread with the white men they were about to fight with side by side.

  It was almost two in the morning. Pete stood up. His brothers had gone to their homes nearby. “You can stay here tonight. We all need to rest. At dawn we will have breakfast and fight.”

  Raz looked at his host and fellow warrior. “Thanks for the food and for ya help.”

  “You are welcome,” Pete said as he left the room. “We must stick together.”

  “Yeah, thanks for everything,” Cody said.

  The fireplace was roaring and the lanterns’ flames were turned down. “Good people, huh?” Raz mentioned to Cody who found a warm spot in the living room corner.

  “Real good people,” Cody agreed. “We’re a small army now.”

  Raz grinned in the flickering orange light. “I think we might have more than that.”

  Everyone in the house slept for a few hours. By five in the morning when it was still dark, Raz smelled strong coffee brewing. Luza had once again cooked on the outdoor stove. The men downed their coffee and warmed tortillas smeared with a meat sauce.

  “Time to go,” Pete said.

  The men gathered at their trucks. It was as cold as last night. “Check ya ammo,” Raz reminded Cody. “Gonna be a busy day.”

  Raz walked over to Pete to discuss something.

  Cody filled the Humvee gas tank from the five gallon cans packed in the back. He reloaded the rifles and pistols. He secured the supplies in the back of the Humvee, leaving the back seat open for his and Nick’s families once they rescued them. When he was done he turned to Raz. “Ready.”

  Pete went to his Dodge. Only one of his brothers was with him.

  “Where’re the boys?” Raz had to ask.

  “Don’t worry. They’ll be here soon,” Pete assured him. He checked his watch. “We should go.”

  Pete and Raz drove toward the same ridge from where they had viewed the camp last night. Raz had his binoculars, and once settled behind the high rocks he took a good look at the detention camp as gray daylight appeared. He was more astonished at the site than before.

  The camp was laid out in a long rectangle stretching at least two thousand yards. Two long rows of rough wood-sided buildings ran from end to end. Raz could see few windows on the front of each building and a single entrance in the middle. Ten buildings were on each side of a central road down the middle of the entire complex. Each structure was individually fenced with razor wire straddling the top.

  “Wow,” he let slip out.

  Guard shacks were stationed at the two entrance points and six sentry towers loomed over the prison. The interesting thing Raz saw was every guard tower had a stationary mounted machine gun facing inward to the camp yards. They appeared to be M2-Browning 50 caliber rapid fire weapons, as best he could tell. Bright lights from every angle blanketed the entire compound making it near impossible to slip in unnoticed.

  “Damn,” he said, involuntarily.

  Despite the early hour and raw cold a few captives were roaming outside their units. There appeared to be outdoor toilets open to the world set near the back fencing. No vegetation grew within each fenced unit. There was no place to hide, no trees, no out buildings, just a long row of empty plank tables in the yards.

  Raz refocused his binoculars to the far end of the prison. Six Army buses were entering camp. They were full of people. Other buses were leaving the area. It confirmed what Pete had told him. Thousands of citizens were being relocated here at a hasty pace. More than one could imagine.

  “Jesus Christ!” he whispered.

  Cody looked over his shoulder. Even from this distance without binoculars he could make out the activity. “Wow!”

  “Damn big, isn’t it?” Pete said.

  “Ah huh.”

  Raz slowly scanned the grounds. Front to end, side to side, counting the visible guards bundled in their winter gear. A total of sixty, maybe seventy, guards were at their stations. But Raz knew there had to be sufficient housing units for enough guards to cover all shifts. Outside the fenced compound were more buildings. The largest one had to be the military barracks. It seemed big enough to hold a couple hundred soldiers. Adjacent to it were two smaller quarters, most likely segregated for the officers. Another building could be the admin shop, or interrogation center.

  Two large army troop carrier trucks were parked near the barracks. Raz also saw three Oshkosh M-ATV vehicles near the officers’ quarters. It was strange to find these armored vehicles out here in the desert, but Raz knew they were frequently used as smaller utilitarian transports, similar to the older Army jeeps.

  Raz handed the binoculars to Cody. The young man took his time searching the complex. “What’s that over there?” he asked and pointed to an excavation point a hundred yards beyond the guards’ residence.

  Pete spoke up. “We’ve been watching some backhoes digging that huge ditch over the past two days. Have no idea what it’s for. They might be digging an underground bunker. Maybe a trash dump.”

  Cody gave the field glasses back to Raz who eyed the recent dig site. He studied it for half a minute, and then lowered the binoculars. “Ah…guys,” Raz hesitated. “Don’t think that’s a bunker or landfill.”

  “Well, what the hell could it be?” Cody said.

  “If I had ta bet,” Raz stopped for a second. “I’d have ta guess it’s a mass grave waitin’ ta be filled.”

  The men looked at Raz. “Impossible,” Pete wondered aloud. “Why do you think they would go through all the trouble of gathering those people, transporting them here, and stuffing them in these buildings just to kill and bury them?”

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bsp; Cody turned to Raz for the answer.

  Raz cleared his throat. “I don’t think they intend on killin’ all the captives. But protocol demands interrogation sessions with the prisoners rated as the most troublesome. Prisoners deemed as subversives—those working for the old government, military personnel, war veterans, business owners, educators, media personnel, foreign sympathizers, senior citizens, religious leaders, and conservatives—their families too, are the first ta be grilled.”

  Pete was stunned. “But why would your government do this to its own people?”

  Raz stifled a short laugh. “Ya’re askin’ me after what ya’ve been through? First of all, it ain’t my government. This here’s a new breed who don’t give a shit ‘bout no one else. Second, the people I just mentioned are the ones most likely ta stir up the survivors. Ya know, cause an uprisin’, a revolution against the new order. Hell, there’s a public list of seventy-two suspicious activities the government considers potential terrorist activities. Even includes people who buy a Starbucks coffee with cash. Believe that shit? I guarantee that grave ditch is for the ones who refuse ta cooperate or ta give up any important information.”

  “We need to stop those bastards,” Cody said. He was ready to storm down the hill like a wild man shooting anything that tried to stop him.

  Raz put his arm out, holding him back. “Stand down, boy. We have ta stick ta the plan if we want ta have a chance in hell of rescuin’ ‘em people. Ya’ll git ya opportunity ta kill some more bad guys.”

  Cody stayed on the cold, hard ground, simmering in the heat of anger.

  Several other men from the Pascua tribe climbed the hill to the scouts. They had bandanas covering their foreheads, thick streaks of black and red war paint on their faces, and a wolf-like readiness in their black eyes. Pete spoke to them in a sing-song language indecipherable to Raz and Cody.

  “Our men are ready,” he said.

  “How many ya got?” Raz asked.

  “Couldn’t get a hundred like I said,” Pete remarked.

  Cody immediately let out a deep breath.