by Warren Ray
“I’m with you, Captain,” said the former Marine, Scar. “It breaks my heart to hear of my brothers in arms killing fellow Americans. I know history is filled with this type of thing but this blows me away.”
Meeks chimed in. “The bigger question is who is giving them their orders?”
Scar looked at Winters with a thoughtful expression.
“I think I got something here, Captain,” said Elliott coming toward them from the office. “It’s called Operation Wildflower.”
“What’s called Operation Wildflower?” asked Winters.
“This whole Patriot Center thing,” said Elliott handing a folder to Winters.
Winters paged through the folder, looking at the documents. “They’ve got Patriot Centers all around the Midwest. In seven states, they’ve got nine centers.”
Meeks spoke up. “Nine centers, how the hell are we supposed to take out all those centers?”
“One at a time, buddy,” said Scar.
“And they’re looking to expand the program into other states,” said Winters throwing the folder on the bar. He sat wearily on a bar stool. His shoulders drooped as he thought how daunting their task appeared. They had taken out only two centers with the last costing them dearly. “Eventually, the military is going to figure out what’s going on. When they do, they’ll tighten security and send more men,” he finished.
Scar slowly added. “We sure won’t be able to just waltz in and kill the staff. We’re probably only good for one, maybe two more centers.”
“That’s when the Army will come after us,” said Meeks. “We’ll be on the run and that will be the end of it.”
“Where to next, Captain?” asked Scar.
“We might as well go to Wisconsin.”
Chapter 18
Rock Island Illinois
Despite the early morning darkness, Colonel Nunn could see the condensation of his breath as he approached the small office building. Besides enjoying the crisp air, arriving early and first was a matter of pride for the old man. It told his subordinates that he was still able to outwork them. That immense pride took a hit when his young sergeant greeted him.
Nunn replied with a tepid response before stepping into his office. Sergeant Owens followed him in and placed a cup of coffee on his desk.
“Colonel, I couldn't find last night’s fax with the day’s tally from Minnesota. Did you take it last night?”
The Colonel looked up. “No, I didn’t. Did you call up there?”
“Not yet sir, too early for them to be in.”
Colonel Nunn sat down at his desk, picked up his cup and thought about what the sergeant said. He took a sip of the steaming black coffee. In light of what happened in Iowa, Nunn’s mind started to race; thinking maybe someone was up to no good in Minnesota. He’d have to be patient and wait until 0800 when the center’s personnel would be showing up. Nunn didn’t believe in coincidences and thought this was more than just an oddity for another Center to miss a tally.
“You let me know when you get ahold of Minnesota ASAP,” he barked out.
After several failed tries to reach the center, Nunn had his sergeant call Major Green into his office.
The major arrived ten minutes later to find Colonel Nunn in a foul mood.
“Colonel, you requested my presence?” he asked.
“Major, I need for you to go up to Minnesota. We haven’t been able to reach them, and in light of the train station, we need to check this out. Travel light, I want you to get up there as fast as you can, do you understand?”
“Yes, sir. Have the National Police been contacted?”
Colonel Nunn looked up at his Major with contempt on his face. “This has nothing to do with the National Police. It’s none of their business what we’re doing, and they have no say or jurisdiction in this operation.”
“Yes, sir. I thought they might have men closer and…”
“The last thing we need is help from those incompetent idiots. Get a move on, Major.”
“Yes sir,” replied Major Green as he turned before being shooed away.
Chapter 19
Major John Green grew up in Norfolk Virginia, son of a military family. His father spent thirty years in the Army, retired a Colonel, and then became a lobbyist for a defense contractor in Washington.
Green graduated from West Point in the middle of his class. He was known for his political moves. He earned a reputation as a brown noser and would do whatever it took to get ahead, and at thirty-four, he’d been promoted to the rank of Major. At the start of the war, Green had hoped to be sent out West to fight, but instead got posted to the Midwest in a guard duty role. It disappointed him to be there and to be serving under Colonel Nunn, whom he considered unworthy of his position. His only consolation was having 1st Lieutenant David Crick assigned to him. He was a friend of the family. Their fathers had met in Officers Candidate School and had remained friends throughout their careers. With thick eyebrows, dimples and boyish good looks, Crick could have been a male model and he appeared a lot younger than his twenty-eight years. He had graduated from college and had worked in the corporate world before deciding to join the Army. The younger Lieutenant Crick had always looked up to Green, and since he still considered him as a big brother, was glad to be serving with him.
Green stepped out of Colonel Nunn’s office once again feeling slighted. He thought something about the man was screwy. The colonel never asked him a single personal question and didn’t update him on anything.
Green proceeded to the mess hall and found Crick eating breakfast.
“Lieutenant, can you take that to go?” asked Green.
“What’s up?” Crick asked, setting his bagel down.
“We’ve got to get up to the Minnesota Patriot Center. We need to travel light and fast, so Humvees only.”
“I’ll have the men ready in ten,” said Crick as he got up from the table, grabbing his bagel and a carton of orange juice.
“Twenty men should do us,” said Green.
Fifteen minutes later, five Humvees pulled out and headed north. They would get there by late morning and be back by late afternoon.
Green wondered if they’d have to burn down another town like yesterday. He thought, why do something so severe like that? Seemed a little extreme just because someone walked off the job.
A couple of hours later, Major Green pulled into the parking lot of the Minnesota Patriot Center. Except for some volunteers sitting in a pickup truck, the place looked empty. He got out of the Humvee and was greeted by the volunteers.
Green looked over at them. “You men volunteers?”
“Yes sir, we got here about an hour ago, and knocked on the door but no one answered. So, we’ve just been sitting and waiting for someone to show up.”
“Do we report to you?” asked another.
“No, we’re not the ones operating this center. But we’ll get this figured out for you.”
After banging on the door, Major Green ordered the men to break in. After a few whacks on the door handle, they entered the building throwing caution to the wind. He figured the staff had either had up and quit, or were running very late. They turned the lights on, looked around, and found nothing, but an empty building.
Major Green exited the Center as more volunteers began to arrive. He instructed them to come back tomorrow.
“Lieutenant Crick, take three men, get up to the drop off location, and find out what is going on there,” ordered Green.
An hour later, Lieutenant Crick reached Green on the radio and reported that the place was abandoned. Two stations in two days, something was not right. Why would they just up and quit when jobs were so hard to come by these days? Especially a job as easy as this one, drive them from point A to point B. He went back into the building and called Colonel Nunn.
“I’m sorry sir, could you repeat that?” Green asked Nunn.
“I want you to check for any signs of a gun battle, Major. Check the walls and ceilings for any bullet holes. Look f
or blood stains on the floors.”
Major Green knew better than to ask why. He would rip him a new asshole if he asked such a question, but still, he wondered why the old man thought there might have been a gun battle here.
Green got out of the office chair and wandered around the big hall. He didn’t notice anything unusual. He proceeded to the bar and leaned over to inspect behind it. His stomach resting on the bar, he looked from one end to the other and saw nothing out of the ordinary. Leaning back, his left hand caught a splinter. After pulling it out, he looked at down at the bar. He ran his fingers across it and found some rough spots along a ten-foot section.
“I did find an area on the bar that looks like it's been chewed up. Could have been gunfire or any number of things. Looks pretty new though,” said Green when he called back.
“You and your men wait there to see if any of the staff show up,” ordered Nunn.
Nunn adjusted his body in his chair and thought about the situation. Someone is trying to shut down these facilities, either the guys at these two centers are in cahoots with each other or someone has discovered what they’re up to. Regardless he needed to get this handled.
He picked up the black phone and punched in the number to the Wisconsin Patriot Center.
“Wisconsin Patriot Center,” the man answered.
“Is this Wakefield?” asked Nunn.
“Who’s asking?”
“This is Colonel Nunn.”
There was silence on the line for a second, and then Wakefield cleared his throat.
“Yes sir, what can I do for you?” he asked nervously gripping the phone tighter.
“Have you talked to the Centers in Minnesota or Iowa lately?”
“No, sir.”
“So, you don’t know why they’re not there?”
“They’re supposed to be here?”
“No, not where you are, at their own damn Centers. No one has shown up in Minnesota today and I got a bunch of charred bodies at the Iowa drop off location. Someone torched it. You didn’t hear about that?”
“Not at all. We don’t know about that, sir. It's all business as usual here, sir.”
“Well, keep your men on high alert for anything that might be unusual,” commanded Colonel Nunn.
“Yes sir, will do...”
Nunn hung up the phone before he had finished. He didn’t have the time or the patience to deal with idiots. They were greedy and lacked any morals, but they did what they were told without asking any questions or giving away secrets. Still, the less he had to deal with them on a one on one basis, the better. He proceeded to call all the remaining centers but found no problems with any of them. He got up from his desk and moved over to the map of the Midwest hanging on the wall. Red pushpins represented each Center. He tapped his left index finger on Iowa and then slid it up to Minnesota. Studying the map, he decided to send Green to Wisconsin the next day.
Chapter 20
On The Road to Wisconsin
Winters couldn’t get over how horrific yesterday's battle had been. They had lost seventeen volunteers in what looked like a mass murder scene. It reminded him of the massacre of his friends. As gut-wrenching as it was to watch his friends die, this seemed worse. In a twisted way, the responsibility of losing these men ultimately fell on his shoulders. It didn’t matter that these men would have all died had they not come to their rescue. The burden weighed on him as if he had pulled the trigger.
During the drive to the American Legion hall which held the Minnesota Patriot Center, Winters had been hesitant to go in with no plan, but once the shooting began, Mister Hyde resurfaced. He didn't want to admit it but that drip of adrenaline racing through his veins was enough to make him want more.
However, it was fleeting because the pain of the day returned once they went back to the drop-off center to help clean the place up. They worked well into the night loading the wounded and the dead volunteers to transport them back to their homes. There wasn’t much more they could do, but get them to their families. It was stressful to meet with some of the family members and have to explain what happened. Seeing the pain in their eyes and the crying had been a difficult task.
After dropping off the last of the wounded men, they found an abandoned warehouse, in which they were able to park their vehicles for the night.
The large empty building had trash scattered everywhere as if the occupants had left in a hurry. There was a musky damp smell and it reminded Winters of an unfinished basement. Still, it kept them out of sight and out of the weather.
* * * * *
It was mid-morning before everyone was awake. They still felt the strain of yesterday’s events. There wasn’t much chatter amongst the men as they finished breakfast and began to load their gear back on the trucks. An overcast day befitted their overall attitude. Once loaded, the men went to their vehicles and jockeyed for the seats they wanted.
Elliott drove an SUV, Winters sitting next to him, with Meeks and Scar in the back seats.
“How long were you in the Marines, Scar?” asked Winters.
“Four years.”
“See any action?”
“I was part of the invasion force in Grenada.”
“What was that like?” asked Winters.
“I hadn’t been in the Corps very long. It was a lot different than training at Camp Pendleton that’s for sure. For us, it only lasted ten days, but we did encounter some pockets of heavy resistance.”
Winters was impressed.
“He has a lot more experience drinking and playing poker,” laughed Meeks.
“Least I don’t lose like you,” replied Scar, with a big smile on his face.
Elliott looked in the rearview mirror. “You guys play Texas Hold-em?”
“That would be our game of choice. You play, Elliott?” asked Scar.
“You betcha.”
Scar leaned forward. “What about you, Captain, you a poker player?”
“I’ve played, but not on a regular basis. Blackjack is my poison.”
“How often?”
Winters shifted his body in the seat. “My wife and I used to play every once in a while.”
“Vegas?” asked Scar.
“Vegas one time, but we’d mostly go to the Quad Cities to the riverboats. Close enough where we could spend the afternoon and be able to drive home. Any of you guys go to the Quad Cities?”
Everyone nodded.
“Those were the good 'ole days. I heard the boats were destroyed by the National Police,” said Elliott.
“I heard the same thing,” said Scar.
Meeks started to laugh. “So, we’re a bunch of degenerate gamblers. That’s a good thing, cause something tells me we’re going to be doing a whole lot of gambling in the very near future.”
Winters gave that some thought. He knew it to be true but had no idea how it would play out. With such a limited number of weapons and no experience, the odds were definitely stacked against them.
As the trip wore on, they came upon a small town with a gas station on the outskirts. Winters had everyone pull over. He didn’t want all the trucks to go in at the same time, in case there was a National Police presence. Though there wasn’t that big a chance in the smaller towns, especially since most of them were half empty. However, pulling into any town would always attract unwanted attention.
Winters got out of the SUV and approached Nate’s truck. “Let’s have you follow us in while the rest stay here.”
Elliott moved the SUV back on the pavement. Nate followed, leaving the rest behind.
“Doesn’t look to me like anyone’s here, Captain,” said Elliott as he pulled into the parking lot.
“I’ll go in,” said Meeks, as he climbed out of the truck and heading to the entrance. He reached for the door and yanked it open. He turned, looked at the others, shrugged his shoulders, and entered.
“I better go in with him,” said Scar, jumping out and landing with a big thud. “Just in case there’s any trouble.”
>
They were in the store for a few minutes before Scar came out and walked over to Winters who still sat in the SUV.
“Captain, man in there says we can have all the gas we need providing we can get it out of the underground tanks cause his pumps aren’t working.”
“Does he have some kind of manual pump?”
“You bet he does. Meeks is helping him get it.”
Winters got out of the truck. Meeks strolled out of the store with another man, who held a pump and a long hose. The man had to be in his eighties. He wore a dirty white t-shirt, which looked as old as the man himself. He glanced at Winters, and ignored him, while he bent down to remove the lid from the storage tank. Meeks signaled to bring the pickups over there. Nate and Elliott both moved the trucks as Scar and Winters joined Meeks.
“I haven’t checked the levels in a while so I don’t really know how much I got,” said the old man. “Could be all of nothing, haven’t had my pumps working in months. Not that it matters much, don’t have any customers anyway.”
“We’re grateful for anything you can give us,” said Winters.
The old man looked up. “You must be Winters. Your man here told me what you’ve been up to. Never trusted the government before everything went to hell, and I sure as blazes don’t trust them now. Doesn’t really surprise me what they’re doing. I’ve seen it happen before in Europe, now the same thing is happening here.”
“What do you mean?” Winters asked.
“Russia, Germany, Italy, any number of European countries falling to dictatorships, history just keeps repeating itself time and time again. They killed millions of their own citizens.”
“Our Government wouldn’t do that.”
“Oh really,” said the old man. “Don’t know your history too well do ya? Stalin and Mao killed tens of millions of people. They made Hitler look like a choirboy. I’ll bet their victims thought they wouldn’t do it either. Poor suckers.”
“But why?”
The old man looked impatient. “It doesn’t matter why. All that matters is that they’re doing it. Don’t try to come up with a reason why. You’d just be wasting your time trying to figure it out.”