The General frowned and cleared his throat. “Nearly twenty thousand troops dead or wounded, sir. The majority of them are foreign hires.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“Yes sir. There’s more. We’ve just received word from Station Two in Colorado that a sizable concentration center, Camp 49, some miles south of Tucson, Arizona, has been all but wiped out by radicals.”
“Tell me General. How the fuck were they able to do that?” the President wanted to know.
“Indians, sir. From a small, local reservation. And a couple white guys in an Army Humvee,” the General responded. He wished he could shrink down to the size of a dust speck and disappear into the woodwork.
“Indians? Like Native Americans? How in the hell did that happen? And where’d they get their weapons?” The President’s face was screaming red.
The General squirmed. “They mostly had bows and arrows, and spears, sir. It seems they were being led by two Caucasian males, heavily armed and knowledgeable in warfare tactics.”
“That’s just fucking great!” the President shouted. “Two guys and a band of Indians are taking over my camps.”
“Only one camp, sir,” the General cut in.
“I heard you the first time. Tell me. Are there any more wild bands of Indian tribes trying to destroy my control?”
“No sir. I mean, I’m not sure sir.”
“You’re not sure?” the President was livid. “General, let me remind you. I am in charge. This is my plan, my agenda. Once the EMP hit I was the one who declared martial law. By doing so I immediately eliminated opposition to my administration. No more legislative branch, no more senators or representatives, except for a few hand selected. No more judicial branch. I am the one who decides what is legal and what isn’t. I shut the media down. No more pain in the ass FOX News, no more subversive conservative radio talk. When the country is up and running again there will only be government media allowed to broadcast what I deem is necessary for the surviving populace. No more Limbaugh, Savage, Jones, and their damn followers. Martial law also allows me to remain President indefinitely, giving me the unprecedented opportunity to guarantee our long term goals can be met. You do understand that, right?”
“Yes sir.” The General remained still, taking in everything his boss was throwing at him.
“You are aware of the big picture. Plans for today’s success have been established over the previous several decades. The NSA, Agenda
21, REX 84, the DHS, the NDAA, the Patriot Act, FEMA, even my own presidency. You don’t think all of these just happened. Do you? Everyone of these events were meticulously set in place. And now we are experiencing the results of these historical maneuvers.
“I’ve authorized the NSA to collect and compile untold bits of communication throughout the world. Its sole purpose has been to capture records on all persons of interest, including American citizens. In direct response to my executive orders, the National Defense Authorization Act gives me, your President, the power to round up any American considered a potential terrorist against the government. It allows me to field occupational forces throughout the land. Without going through Congress I can now use my military forces to indefinitely detain any dissidents who are or may act in a seditious manner. They can be charged and rendered guilty as needed. There is no time to be wasted with trials. The judicial system is dead. With this law I can even conscript Americans into work brigades to later reconstruct our nation the way I see fit.”
The President was on his soapbox counting off his newly acquired powers one by one for his own satisfaction and to remind his Secretary of National Defense who the boss was.
He continued.
“I now have complete control of the American economy and will run it according to our new policies. The United States Constitution has been suspended. The Bill of Rights is null and void. The rule of law is what I say it is. Both documents are useless, outdated policies, antiquated principles. Americans have been too caught up in the past. That is changing. I control all modes of transportation. Highways, air travel, railroads, inland waterways and seaports. Every form of communication is now subject to my rule, including the Internet, which should have never been made available for public use. All methods of energy production now fall under my regulations. I shall determine a prudent energy policy for the country.”
The General watched his commander-in-chief, admitting to himself possible mistakes and wondering if he had made the right decision to side with the new order.
“My government controls every aspect of food in the country, from the farms to supply lines to local distribution. It is I, and I alone, who determines who gets to eat and who shall face starvation. Can you even fathom what kind of power that is? Once our nation is rebuilt and opened for business again, I shall stipulate who will receive health care and education beneficial to the state. I also shall control the flow of our new currency, the ability to benefit from commerce, and the privilege to work. There’s no end as to what can be done.”
The President was elated with himself. Every future decision for the nation rested solely on his shoulders.
“And finally, General. I have the Army. If a man has the guns, he has the power. That’s been a standard banner throughout history. We should have been more diligent, more aggressive, in banning guns. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I don’t believe people should be able to own guns and under my rule those who survive will not.”
The President paused. “I have all these things at my feet, Mr. Secretary, and you tell me a few roughshod rebels are trying to take it away from me? That my plan is under siege by an Indian tribe of drunken losers with sticks and some wannabe heroes trying to save the world? Don’t be so god-damn ridiculous. I am ordering you to stop these attempts to rebuff my authority.”
“Yes sir,” the General acquiesced. “Except, there’s something else you should know.”
Chapter 47
With his wife at his side Cody entered the dark building. The number of prisoners inside was unbelievable. It took a few seconds for his eyes to adjust to the weak light and the dismal rabble of citizens. A mob of detainees surrounded Cody as if he were the liberator of Europe after the fall of Germany. They were grabbing him and shaking his hand. They thanked him profusely and prayed to him for saving them.
Cody called out for his children. “Jeffrey. Jennifer.”
From behind the crowd he heard a young voice. “Daddy, Daddy!”
The two kids pushed their way through the wall of people and hugged their father. They wrapped their small arms around his waist and chest, hurting him because of his injuries, but it was a good hurt.
“Oh Daddy.” Six year old Jennifer squeezed her father. “I was so afraid.”
“I know sweetheart,” Cody said. “There’s no need to be afraid now.”
“Mommy said you would come and take us home. She kept saying that Daddy was coming, and I believed her,” his daughter explained, excited and talkative and so innocent.
Cody’s eyes welled up with tears of joy. “That’s good.”
Jeffrey held onto his father like he had never done before. He was trying to be brave, but he began crying too. “I wasn’t afraid,” he said, struggling to act like a little man. But, being older than his sister, he had been afraid, because he saw what was happening around him and understood.
“You’re a very brave boy,” Cody said to him.
“I’m very hungry too,” Jeffrey said. His stomach was grumbling.
Jennifer added, “Daddy, the toilets here are so gross.”
Cody couldn’t help but laugh. Robin put her hand on Cody’s good shoulder. “You’re bleeding.”
“I’ll be okay,” he told her. Carrying his daughter with his good arm Cody stepped outside with his son and wife. He promised himself he would find his family, and he did.
“I love you Cody,” Robin said, finally letting her emotions run loose after the horrible ordeal they had been through.
> “I love you too, Robin, more than ever before.”
Together, Cody and his family walked through the enclosed prison yard followed by the rest of the incarcerated people. Gun shots were still being fired on the far side of the camp. Cody could see some of the Pascuas firing back.
He looked at his wife. “Where’s Nick’s family?”
Robin looked lost. “After we got off the bus, they must have moved them and some others to another building. She wasn’t with us.”
Cody stopped walking.
“What is it?” Robin asked, knowing something was wrong.
“It’s just…I promised Nick.”
“Nick?” Robin said with tears building up. “Where is he?”
Cody held back. “He’s gone, Robin.”
Robin hugged her husband in the road. “His family is here someplace. We’ll find them.”
Cody would tell Raz about Nick’s family still being in the camp. They would find Lisa and her girls in the enormous crowd.
Raz had left the Humvee just outside the camp. Cody took his family to the vehicle. There they would be safe from the gun fire which was still being exchanged in the center of the complex. Hundreds of other captives ran into the desert beyond the hills waiting for the shooting to stop.
Pete’s men were pinned down on the north side of the compound. Soldiers laid down a barrage of gun fire from the interrogation center and the guards’ buildings. Having sufficient cover they had a distinct advantage. Several Pascuas fell mortally wounded. Pete moved his remaining men around the buildings, surrounding the hundred or so troops inside. Hostiles in the second guard truck racing toward the Pasquas were taken out with arrows. The truck swerved off the road, crashed into a guard tower, and toppled it to the ground. The disabled troops were quickly taken out by the warriors.
“We can’t get to them this way,” Pete said to his middle brother. It was time to go back to old school tactics. This was one circumstance where arrows were better than bullets. He yelled some orders to the band of warriors around the buildings. When they were in place, he nodded. This would flush out the camp soldiers.
“Light them up,” he shouted loud enough for his men to hear. Each of the Pascua warriors lit their wrapped arrows. At will, they shot the fire sticks into the wooden buildings, pounding them with hundreds of death blazes. The tinder dry wooden interrogation and bunkhouse buildings caught like dried brush in a drought. It took less than a minute for the roofs to turn into raging flames. The exterior walls quickly became engulfed in fire as well.
Soldiers continued to shoot from the open windows, but their aim turned erratic. Acrid black smoke rapidly filled the interiors, causing the troops to gasp for air or head for the exits. Those who could find them. Pieces of the roofs began to collapse, rafters and sheathing from the structures falling within. The Pascuas heard shrieks and screams from inside. The soldiers were being burned to death in their own safe havens.
The archers ceased firing and stood still watching the blazing infernos’ leap to life. The sounds of burning, crackling wood and the disintegration of the buildings were as loud as mountain thunder. The heat from the fires warmed the Indians even at a distance. It felt good to them.
Ultimately, one by one, the remaining soldiers stumbled out the doors. Some fired their rifles nowhere, attempting to escape. But there was no escape, only death. Others staggered to the ground in coughing fits, their lungs filled with deadly smoke and heated gases. Several soldiers dashed from their buildings, engulfed in flames, their odies writhing in unbelievable pain. A few lurched through the doorways, their hands up high in surrender.
But the Pascuas had no intention of capturing their foes. They would not treat their enemies as their enemies had treated their captives. No. The guards would die a quicker and less painful death. The Pascuas stretched their rigid bows and let loose their arrows into the defenseless soldiers. Each trooper reaching open ground was punched with a dozen shafts. Moans and pleas, cries and screams fell on deaf ears as the Indians finished off the invaders.
The enflamed buildings’ walls caved in on themselves, feeding funeral pyres for the remaining men inside. The warriors turned to their leader. There was no time to rejoice in their victory. Shots were still being fired near Raz and his men.
“Let’s end this, men,” Pete said as he directed his braves toward the southern portion of the camp.
They left the crumbling blazes and shifted to the road running down the length of the camp. Raz and the men with him were fighting it out with the last few guards. Raz saw Pete’s men two hundred yards away. The two groups slowly worked toward one another, picking off troops as they went. Some guards retreated into prisoner buildings to hide. They were quickly overrun by the people inside, kicked, punched, and stomped to death by common, everyday people fighting for their freedom. Within the next ten minutes most every soldier in the camp was dead.
Raz and Pete met at the middle of the compound and shook hands. Thick, sooty smoke was blowing around them. The men looked dirty and tired, but happy.
“Damn good job ya boys done over there,” Raz said to Pete. “One big ass Injun barbeque. Felt the heat way over here.”
“Think we got most of them, old man,” Pete said with a smile. “But we also lost some good men.”
“Yeah,” Raz grunted. “It ain’t never easy.”
“You can say that again,” a familiar voice said from behind.
“I thought I told ya ta git out of here,” Raz said to Cody as the younger man limped toward his friend.
“My family’s safe back there in the Humvee,” Cody said, tilting his head beyond the camp. He was carrying a weighted rucksack with his good arm.
“What’s in the bag?”
Cody smirked. “I thought this was the right time for this.” He reached in the bag and pulled out the bottle of Johnny Walker.
Raz had a wide grin. “Ya a man after my own heart. Give it here.”
Raz cracked open the bottle and took an extra long tug. “That’s the ticket. Like mother’s milk.” He wiped his bearded lip with his sleeve and passed the bottle to Pete. “Can ya handle some firewater, chief?”
“Give me that damn bottle, white boy,” Pete said, then laughed. He wiped the mouth of the bottle dry just to piss off Raz. “Don’t want to catch anything.” When he was done he handed the bottle back to Raz.
“Hey. What about me?” Cody yelled.
“Ya old enough, sonny?” Raz played with him.
Cody grabbed the whiskey from Raz and took a sip. He coughed and shook his head. “Whoa! Strong stuff.”
The men laughed. It had been a tough day. Pete’s men were scouring the camp, picking up rifles and sidearms from the dead soldiers. They popped open the front fences to the rest of the prisoner buildings. The people slowly emerged from their dark quarters, watching the fires burn down, seeing the dead littered everywhere. They hugged and rejoiced, dazed at what had just happened. They were free. But what was next? Where would they go?
“I have something else,” Cody commented after taking another sip of whiskey. He tossed the bottle to Raz and one by one grabbed something from the sack. “These are for you and your people, Pete.” He handed his new friend the two heavy woolen socks stuffed with silver coins.
“What is it?” Pete asked.
“It’s not much,” Cody said. He looked at the man. Pete was the only true blue Indian Cody had ever known. “I just wanted to say thanks to you and your tribe for what you’ve done. I would never have seen my family again if it wasn’t for you.”
Pete accepted the unusual gift. “Thank you Cody. We all worked well together today for many good reasons. My people can use this.”
They shook hands, but then Cody hugged Pete for a long moment like a true brother.
“I have a knife,” Pete said. “You want to do that blood brother thing?”
Cody backed off. “Ah, no. No thanks.”
“Okay,” Raz interrupted. “What are we gonna do with all these p
eople?”
“Oh,” Pete said. “In all the excitement I forgot to tell you. My guys intercepted a message on our citizens band radios from some soldiers down your ways. Apparently a large group of detained soldiers from Fort Huachuca escaped and took over the base. They’re one really pissed off group of patriots. They know their families are here at this camp. They’re headed this way to get them. Bringing food, water, supplies, and plenty of guns. I feel sorry for anyone who tries to stop them.”
“Wait a minute here,” Raz jumped. “Ya mean ta tell me ya have workin’ CBs and ya never told me?”
Pete stared the old man down. “Ya never asked,” he said, mocking him.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
“I’m sure you will be,” Pete ended.
“So now what?” Raz had to ask.
“I guess you guys can go home now,” Pete said. “As for us, we’re headed west. Heard there’s another detention camp over in Tohono O’odham country a couple hours from here. We figure we’ll go help our brothers out of a similar jam. We’ve learned a few things here and maybe we can make a difference. With what’s been going on, somebody’s got to do something about it.”
Hearing Pete’s comment, Raz turned to look at Cody. The old man’s eyes lit up and he grinned. “Cody, ya take ya family back ta the safe place we left. Ya know what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”
Cody knew he meant his homestead in the woods.
Raz turned to Pete. “Mind if I tag along?”
“Can always use the extra help,” Pete said.
“But Raz….” Cody said, and then he stopped. It was the right thing to do. “Thank you Raz. You’re like a father to me.” The men embraced each other and patted one another on the backs, like men do.
“We got a lot of work ta take care of, so I’m goin’ with Pete and his men,” Raz ended.
“I’ll miss you,” Cody said to his dear friend.
“Yeah, well. I’ll be back. Someday. And if I ain’t, that’s okay too. It’s time ta help set a few things straight.” Raz reached in his pocket and tossed a ring of keys to Cody. “Now ya git.”
Treasonous Behavior- in the Beginning Page 30