Forgotten Forbidden America:: Patriots Reborn (25 page)

“I know,” Nelson grinned. “You didn’t shoot me.”

Laughing, Michelle looked away. “The only reason I didn’t was I didn’t want to tell the kids I capped Daddy.”

After lunch, Nelson pulled his four-wheeler to the front of his cabin and hooked up a small trailer. With Gavin and Michelle’s help, he loaded it and drove over to Gerald’s cabin. When he stopped, Gerald came out carrying a box. “Nancy assures me your frequencies won’t set them off,” he said, putting the box in the trailer.

“Didn’t think of that,” Nelson mumbled as Gerald went back inside.

“Meet you at the front gate!” he yelled from inside the house.

Walking over, Michelle grabbed Nelson. “You aren’t leaving till tonight. I don’t care what he says.”

Nelson turned off the four-wheeler and climbed off. “No shit,” he huffed. “If the sun is up, I ain’t driving out of our area.”

“Just wanted to make sure,” Michelle said as Gerald came out.

“I said I would meet you at the gate.”

“I’m not leaving till the sun goes down,” Nelson said, crossing his arms.

Letting out a big sigh, Gerald moved over to his side by side. “I know, but I’m not working on the big bomb inside the berm. Hell, I didn’t like bringing in the small ones.”

Looking at the box in the trailer, Michelle snorted. “If you can call twenty-pound shaped charges small.”

Backing up, Gerald stopped and looked over at them. “Compared to a hundred-pound fuel air bomb, hell yes,” he said. “Since you are off yours, jump in.”

When Michelle and Nelson climbed in, Gerald sped around the house to the bunker they buried for the explosives. Gerald ran in and came back with an armload of stuff, putting it in the bed of the side by side. “Where are you going to make it at?” Michelle asked as he climbed back in.

“The middle of the field,” Gerald answered as he steered out of the berm. “I’ve only made a few of these and never one this small.”

As Gerald rounded the berm and headed out into the field, Nelson glanced over at him. “Just how big did you build them?”

“Last one I made was just over three tons.”

“What in the hell were you blowing up?” Nelson cried out.

“Terrorist cell in Afghanistan. We couldn’t get approval for an air strike.”

“You wanted to blow up a whole town?” Michelle asked as Gerald slowed down, pulling under an oak tree that stood in the middle of the field.

“No, just six square blocks,” Gerald grinned. “We managed that plus a little more.”

The two stayed and watched Gerald build a bomb in a plastic, thirty-gallon drum. When he put the top on it and sealed it, he looked up at Nelson. “You sure that little truck can pull this?”

“You kept it at a hundred and fifty pounds, right?” Nelson asked, and Gerald nodded. “Sure, it can pull more, but it really drains the batteries fast.”

“I feel old,” Gerald said, moving the bucket to the bed of the side by side.

“Hey, the one-eighth scale gas remote trucks and tractors can pull a lot more. I’ve seen them at the pulling competitions pull over three to four hundred pounds regularly.”

Looking up as he was strapping the bomb down, Gerald’s jaw dropped. “They have remote controlled truck and tractor pulls?”

“Yeah, at most of the R/C events,” Nelson said. “They have racing, pulls, obstacle courses… A lot of events.”

“Why do you think Gavin and him have so many toys?” Michelle asked, jumping in the side by side.

“They are not ‘toys.’” Nelson snapped. “They are highly tuned remote controlled vehicles that are stronger than the larger versions.”

“Toys,” Michelle repeated. Sighing, Nelson climbed in, keeping his mouth shut.

“Never in my wildest dreams would I believe grown men would gather at competitions with remote controlled cars,” Gerald said, climbing behind the steering wheel.

Michelle shook her head as Gerald started the side by side. “One day when I got home from work, I found Nelson and Gavin in the backyard. They had two of their big trucks pulling Devin and Olivia around.”

“Those are the one-eighth scale, baby,” Nelson said.

“Nelson!” Michelle shouted. “You were jumping ramps with that truck with Devin in the truck bed.”

“Yeah, and soccer ball head was laughing his little ass off.”

Michelle whipped her head around and stared at the passing landscape as Gerald shook his head. “Don’t know if benefits would make up for all the ass chewing.”

Chapter Eleven

The sun was just touching the horizon as Nelson, Ronald, and Gerald stood in the front yard with the rest of the group around them: Michelle with Devin in her arms, and Gavin and Olivia held Nelson in a hug. Devin was yelling out because they were squishing him against Daddy’s hard vest.

Michelle pulled back and looked down at Devin, who had a grumpy expression. “You need to chill, or I won’t say anything when Daddy calls you soccer ball head.” Hearing Michelle, the grumpy expression left as Devin laughed, clapping his hands.

“See, he likes it,” Nelson said, pulling her close and kissing her. He then reached down, lifting Olivia up and holding her. “Little princess, you be good while I’m gone, okay?”

“I will, Daddy,” she cried, burying her face in his neck.

Kneeling, Nelson put her down and pulled Gavin over into a hug. “Son, you listen and protect everyone while I’m gone. You’re the man of the house till I come back.”

Fighting not to cry, Gavin nodded. “I will, Dad,” he said, his voice breaking. “Please be careful.”

“I will,” Nelson said, getting up.

“You’re sure you want to recon for two days?” Michelle asked about the changes that had been discussed all afternoon with the group.

“No,” Nelson huffed, and Michelle’s eyes widened in alarm. “I want three or four, but G.I. Joe Gerald says that is too much time around an enemy camp, and the risk of being spotted increases tenfold.”

Thinking about it, Michelle sided with Gerald but only in her mind. “I’ll see you in three days,” she said, kissing him.

Beside them, Ronald was putting his kids on the ground after a long hug. “You two listen to Ms. Nellie, understand?” he told them, wiping a tear off his cheek.

“We will, Dad,” his son Mason said with tears running on his face, but he was trying not to cry. Ariel wasn’t even fighting it, and tears were pouring out of her eyes.

Gerald walked over, taking Devin from Michelle. “You be good, and when I get back, we will attack the bubbles.” Devin squealed and patted Gerald’s cheek. “I love you too, little bubble warrior,” Gerald said in a low voice and hugged Devin tight.

Feeling a lump in his throat starting to form, Gerald quickly handed Devin back to Michelle. When he walked away, Michelle turned to Nelson. “Remember we have a date two weeks from now,” she said, shaking her head.

“Believe me, I won’t forget,” Nelson said, kissing Devin, who squealed and patted Nelson’s cheek.

“Nelson, don’t get impatient. That’s when you make mistakes,” Michelle said as he climbed on his four-wheeler.

“I told you I won’t make that mistake again,” Nelson said, patting a large pad strapped to the storage rack behind him. “Zeus, up.” Zeus jumped up behind him and laid down on a large pad with his tongue hanging out.

“You said the same thing last time,” Michelle said, reaching over to pat Zeus’ head.

Putting his combat helmet on, Nelson adjusted his rifle across his body. “Yes, but having people shooting RPGs at you makes you realize ‘haste makes waste’ in a totally new light,” he said.

Forcing a smile, Michelle leaned over, kissing him. “I thought the machine guns would do that the other times,” she said, forcing a smile. “Gerald has the go pills, and you better take them like you’re supposed to.”

“Babe, you’re embarrassing me,” Nelson grinned as he started the four-wheeler. “When y’all come up, you better keep your head on a swivel, and stay on task till then.”

“Honey, I’m the one that has to guide you, not the other way around,” she said, stepping back. “Be careful, I don’t want to have to find someone else to wear the Solo outfit.”

Nelson was clipping his NVGs to his helmet and froze. He slowly turned with a shocked face. “How could you even say such a thing?”

Michelle laughed. “You know I would never do that. You’re the only man on Earth for me.”

Breaking into a grin, Nelson said, “Love you babe,” as Matt came over.

“I wish you would change your mind and let me come,” he said, engulfing Nelson in a hug.

Feeling insignificant in Matt’s hug, Nelson pushed him back. “All the fighters can’t do the recon. If shit happens, we need someone to pull us out. Besides, you’re too damn big to sneak around.”

“Kiss my ass, shithead,” Matt laughed.

Reaching out, Nelson patted his arm. “Be careful, brother, and watch them for me until you come up.”

“Will do,” Matt said as the others came over to hug him. 

When the sun was almost below the horizon, Gerald yelled out, “Let’s go, ladies!”

“Hey Obi Wan, I’ll monkey stomp your ass! The Force is strong in this one!” Nelson shouted, making the group laugh. Gerald pulled out on his four-wheeler followed by Ronald on a four-wheeler they had taken from one of the farms. Giving his family one last smile, Nelson hit the throttle, bringing up the rear.

When Nelson got his Polaris 800 four-wheeler as a demo three years before, it was quiet for an ATV. There were several aftermarket exhausts that he looked at but decided to build his own since he couldn’t find one that came with a snorkel. When his ATV was running, the engine rattle was the only audible thing you heard ten feet away at an idle.

The reason he even went through the trouble was Bernard had planted corn that year, and the deer were killing his crops. Bernard had tried to get permits to kill them, but a new federal law prevented it, and Bernard was told to surround his field with a sixteen-foot-tall, anti-pest fence. Bernard called and got a quote of half a million dollars to surround his two-hundred-acre corn field.

Luckily, Nelson was there that weekend because when Bernard slammed the phone down, he was heading for the door to just cut the damn field down. Not being above the law but knowing it wasn’t right to let a farmer’s crop disappear, Nelson told Bernard to wait.

Being in the hunting industry, Nelson hunted a lot and knew the dangers. Out of all the government departments and agencies, the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service Office of Law Enforcement holds unbelievable power. Like most state wildlife agencies, they don’t need a warrant to search and can cross onto private property if they think a game law is being violated.

Nelson pulled his ATV to the barn and went to work. Building a shroud, he lined it with a fire blanket, enclosing the sides of the engine. Then, he tack welded a car muffler onto his muffler and ran a three-foot-tall pipe straight up for a snorkel. Covering the pipe with another fire blanket, Nelson put a larger pipe over it so he wouldn’t get burned. After putting on an intake snorkel, he turned it on and could barely hear it. It made just a little more noise than his electric buggy.

With his project done, Nelson grabbed his AR with a suppressor and night sight and headed to the corn field. In two nights, he killed nineteen deer, dragging them out of the field under the cover of darkness. Skinning them quickly, he threw them in the freezers, filling almost everyone’s in the group.

As any hunter will tell you, deer learn, and they learned real fast—don’t go in that field.

When Gerald saw Nelson’s ATV, he had Nelson help make his quiet and then Bernard’s and Nelson’s other ATV. As they outfitted Ronald and his kids, Nelson took several of the ATVs they brought back from the farms and did the same to them. He gave one to Ronald and another to Matt.

This was running through Nelson’s mind as he followed Ronald across the bridge. “Radio check,” Gerald called over the radio.

“Two here,” Ronald answered.

Reaching up and grabbing his squawk box on his chest, Nelson pressed the button. “Three here,” he called out. 

“Keep twenty yard spacing. I’m holding at twenty-five,” Gerald called back.

Reaching back, Nelson patted Zeus, who was holding his head off the side and letting his tongue flap in the wind. Glancing back, Nelson saw the tarp pulled tight over the trailer. All of them were pulling trailers loaded with supplies.

Van Buren was only thirty-six miles away if they took Highway 60, but they were crossing the highway and taking back roads. This was more than doubling the distance. Van Buren wasn’t large and was split into by the Current River, and on the west side, it was called South Van Buren.

Gerald was leading ten miles south of the town to a campground that had a spot the river could be forded by the FLYERs. At least they hoped so—the last time they had checked was a year before. Every summer, they checked local rivers for areas that they could cross. That was why they had snorkels on all the ATVs.

Seeing Gerald and Ronald slow, Nelson eased back on the throttle as Gerald came over the radio. “Hold, I’m going to check the road.”

As Ronald pulled to the left side of the road, Nelson pulled up even with him on the right side. Twenty yards ahead, Gerald jumped off and patted his leg. Duke, who was riding on the back of Gerald’s ATV like Zeus was, jumped off and followed him.

“Hey Nelson,” Ronald whispered as he scanned around. “When Zeus and Hera breed, I want a puppy. I feel left out without a giant ass dog riding with me.”

Glancing over his shoulder, Nelson grinned, lowering his combo thermal/night vision goggles over his left eye. “That can be arranged for wiring up all the shit you have,” he said, adjusting the contrast overlay. With his left eye, he could see quite a ways, but his right eye could only make out dark shapes around him.

“Nah, that was for the group. Think of what I can do for ya,” Ronald whispered.

Nelson looked across the field at the dozens of deer eating the crops, but his right eye could only see dark shapes in the field. “You’re part of the family, Ron. If I can help you, I will,” he said, seeing a nice buck’s heat signature in the goggles.

Gerald trotted back to them with his goggles down. “Road’s clear, and I don’t hear shit. We are crossing going cross country till we hit our road. Keep your spacing, and call out if you see anything.”

As Gerald turned, Nelson reached out and grabbed his arm, “Guys, as we ride, I want everyone to keep track of houses that look occupied,” he said in a low voice. “We won’t be passing many, but we need to get an idea of how many people are around.”

Ronald nodded. “Sounds good.”

“Don’t see a problem with it, but remember, that’s not our mission. We can’t get sidetracked,” Gerald said as Nelson let his arm go.

“Dude, we can’t fight this shit alone. We need to get an idea of how many people are around us. I know it’s not the mission, but we can do both.”

“We aren’t stopping to check on anyone,” Gerald said, walking away.

“Hey butt munch, I said, ‘keep track and look,’ not become Jehovah’s Witnesses going door to door,” Nelson snapped in a harsh whisper. Ronald snorted as Gerald held up his hand, giving Nelson the finger as he walked away.

Watching Gerald’s ATV bounce when Duke jumped on and lay down on the back deck, Nelson snickered, seeing the ATV barely move when Gerald climbed on. When Gerald took off, Ronald followed as Nelson slowly sped up till he was twenty yards behind Ronald.

When Nelson reached the highway, he saw Gerald speeding across a plowed field heading for the tree line on the other side. He barely slowed as he went over the highway and reached back to keep a hand on Zeus. Nelson knew he couldn’t stop Zeus if he fell, but he could stop the four-wheeler if he felt Zeus start to slide off.

Reaching the trees, Nelson felt better as they picked their way between the trees. When Gerald came upon an ATV trail that was heading south, he moved over to it.

Seeing a break ahead of them and the others slowing, Nelson eased up and saw Gerald turn east. Glancing down, Nelson couldn’t see shit on the map he had pinned on his handle bars. With the thermal turned way up, the ATV had heated the map enough that his goggles blurred out any lines. “One downfall of thermal,” he said, reaching up and adjusting the thermal all the way down.

“Yep, that’s our road,” he said, glancing up to see Ronald had already turned. Reaching the small dirt road, Nelson turned left and could see the dust in the air that the others were throwing up. Digging under his vest and combat jacket, Nelson pulled out his shemagh he wore while he was in the service.

Wrapping it around his lower face, Nelson glanced at a house sitting off the side of the road. It was dark, and no vehicles were parked there. It wasn’t sitting on a farm; it was just a nice house in the woods. Reaching up again, Nelson readjusted his thermal settings.

They rode on at twenty-five miles per hour, weaving along the small dirt roads, turning off one and onto another but always heading east, passing several more houses. Only one had a soft glow of light coming from behind curtains, and it was sitting on a small farm. When they reached the Birch Creek Conservation Area, they didn’t see any more houses.

What little light that was coming from the sky, the thick forest cut it way down. Then the road got much smaller, almost turning into a trail, and they slowed way down. Nelson didn’t want to admit it, but he was getting tired of riding the foothills of Missouri looking at the world in green with hot animals showing up white.

Trying to stay alert, Nelson scanned around all the time, even glancing back, but didn’t see anything but wildlife. “Camp on the right,” Gerald announced suddenly, scaring the shit out of Nelson. When he saw Ronald’s ATV weave slightly when Gerald came over the radio, Nelson didn’t feel so bad.