The Crimson Fall (The Sons of Liberty Book 1) (23 page)

“Knew what?” Adam asked.

“When the government came pounding on doors and searching homes with no explanation, the protests inevitably started. It’s amazing how little Americans can care about protecting their freedoms until federal agents are telling them those freedoms are temporarily suspended. Eventually, when things got completely out of control and Chicago was on the verge of breaking, someone shut the cameras down and the fighting ceased at once. The president said a bunch of crap about the protestors being subdued by a fleet of FODs. But rumor has it that things went a little differently. Rumor is, those civilians were using Chambers Systems and were forced to surrender when they suddenly found themselves unable to fire their weapons.”

“So can they actually shut the new firearms off?” Adam asked.

Gene nodded. “Chicago had heavily participated in the program. Lukas has since released the data for every quantum compass on every gun in the city to quell the rumors that they were disabled. Not one shows any incoming signal. So we don’t know how they did it, but you know as well as I do that they shut them off. After all the government’s promises it was nothing more than a load of crap.”

“My God.”

“Oh, be happy God was with us,” Gene said. “Had I not been wise enough to bring my old five-five-six we’d likely never have made it out of Chicago.”

“What happened?” asked Adam.

“I had to use the damn thing,” Gene said angrily, “that’s what in the hell happened.”

Adam and the colonel sat there silently. Adam knew he had pushed a button and that he shouldn’t pry more. After a minute Gene finally spoke.

“Two kids. Two damn kids were setting up one of the smaller roadblocks outside of town when the riots broke out. A lot of people were off the roads by that point. I knew they wouldn’t be able to triangulate our position with my suppressor attached to the barrel and all the madness breaking out around the city. I tried to use my credentials to pass us through but they didn’t listen. They were just doing their job, doing what they were trained for, I reckon. I tried to stop them, but they drew their side arms thinking an older solider like me wouldn’t fight back. But I did what I had to do. We buried both of them in a lake and I gave Jackson Hewitt a call to make sure they were reported as AWOL. I caught him up to speed on everything, but I didn’t tell him where we were going. He’s a good soldier, but I don’t know if I can trust him with all our secrets, even after all these years. But those two damn kids . . . they were killed by an officer that couldn’t protect them.”

Gene’s blank eyes searched back and forth as though looking for answers that wouldn’t come.

“I suppose that’s how this war will be fought,” Gene said after a few seconds of silence. “Brother against brother. Father versus son. Soldier on solider. Dark times are coming; you best believe it. They’re coming for all of us and you better be ready. Here.” Gene turned to Adam and handed him the folder. “The first page is a note from Sue Chambers. There was a lot of worthless gibberish in what she found so we highlighted the sections we thought mattered most.” He leaned in close to Adam. “I refuse to be ashamed of what I did. Those men died because of that madman, not me. I hope you prove to be worth everything we sacrificed to get you out. I don’t care how beat up you are. You’ve got to get well and then you got to get angry. Don’t go pissin’ over your mistakes again. You did what you had to do and I did what I had to do. We’d better both be ready to do it again.” Gene rose and left, nodding his hat toward Sarah as she returned with two hot mugs.

“Here you go,” she said as she handed the mug to Adam. “Did you start yet?”

“Not yet,” he said. “I was hoping you would stay here while I read.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Sarah said with a smile.

Adam sat back in his chair, nervous to flip open the leather folder and read what he finally held in his hands. He had fought and almost died for it without even knowing what it was, and now, in the safety of someone else’s home, he would finally unravel the mystery. He set his coffee down, knowing he would drink it cold, and opened to the first page.

To Whom It May Concern,

My name is Sue Chambers, wife of Governor Lukas Chambers. I have always thought my husband a hard yet honest man until yesterday, May 4
th
, 2025. During the past year I began to suspect him of adultery. Though I had no proof of his unfaithfulness, I had witnessed my husband become cold and distant after his frequent visits to Europe. He had always been a man who kept to himself, but never had I thought him to be anything but loyal to me. I couldn’t be with a man or even support a politician who disrespected me, his own wife, in such a manner. So I hunted for proof of his infidelity. While combing through the dark hiding spots in his home office I found something carefully hidden in a secret compartment underneath his desk; something I now wish had only been proof of a love affair.

With my own research into the specifics of his past and the content that follows, I am beginning to believe that what lies within might very well hold the truth of who my husband really is. We are departing tomorrow for a campaign rally and I plan to confront him afterwards about the affair. If he proves that true, then I will know the rest is fact as well. I am hiding this in the event that he confirms what I’ve found and attempts to silence me before I can spread the word. But I cannot let that happen. We cannot let them win.

The following is a photocopy of Lukas Chambers’ journal dating from June 1994 to this past February 2025. I beg whoever finds this to please share it with the world as you pray with me.

C
hapter
T
welve

A Child of Sorrow

June ‘94             

‘Write,’ she says. ‘Express your deepest thoughts and secrets,’ she says. ‘Confide in this journal and speak to it what you can’t or won’t speak to anyone else.’ She thinks it will help me process through what happened as if that is possible. I’m not so sure about all that but ‘write’ she says, so write I will.

Here we go.

Two weeks ago my mom killed herself. Before sticking the shotgun in her mouth, just as I’m finishing up my eggs and bacon, she tells me that I was nothing more than an unwanted accident. Told me I was a botched abortion and that’s why she and Dad split. Said he was rewarded with a job he loved while she got stuck with me. She said I made her do it. So I, Luke Chambers—the unwelcome son of a rotten, good-for-nothing asshole and a suicidal bitch of a mom—am the one directly responsible for my mother’s death. Thanks Mom!

The therapist gave me this journal and said writing my thoughts down would keep them from haunting me one day. Dad says it’s counseling that will help me cope with it all, but how can I cope with this? Please, God or somebody, tell me how I can live in this world when I can barely live with myself. Mom was right. I made her do it. I don’t know why I am the way I am. People don’t like me and I don’t like them much either. My friends are now nervous around the ‘kid of a suicide.’ Dad says he’s here for me, but that’s just a bunch of bullshit. Mom was right about one thing. He’s married to his job and he’ll go back to work as soon as he can, leaving me for the shrink to figure out. Now I’m supposed to be figuring out how to move on with my life as a fourteen year old who has no one. No friends. No family. Nothing but the memory of his mom and the red wall behind her.

God, if you’re listening, please. Fix this. Fix me. It has to be you because frankly, there is no one else.

              ~An Unwanted Accident

January ‘95

I hate them. Both of them.

Mom checks out early and Dad tries to act like he cares for a few months, but I called it. I knew he’d be tuning me out as soon as he could. All he does now is work. He pays a psychiatrist a hundred dollars an hour to help me while he’s working for a company that’s making more guns for people to blow their brains out. But dad is dad and I am who I am. He lies and says that he’s proud of me in an effort to make me happy, but who can honestly say they’re really happy? Will I ever be? Is this all life has to offer or is there any point to all this shit? God? Hello? I’m talking to you!

Maybe I should just kill myself. Find out if you really are up there listening or if it’s all a bunch of BS. I could use a Holt pistol to put a bullet through the back of my skull. That would throw a wrench into that stupid company’s plans. I can see the headlines now: ‘Son of a Holt Firearms Executive Commits Suicide with his Own Father’s Gun!’ But I don’t think he would miss me much. He’d likely win in the end. He’d come out of it all a stronger man than he was before and the company would probably get some sympathy shares. He might even get a freaking raise out of the new profits I helped them earn. No, that’s not the way. That’s what he would do. He would gladly abandon me when I need him most. I’d never do that to someone I even lied about loving.

I’ll never be like him.

              ~Luke

May ‘97

I finished high school yesterday. ‘Bout time—excuse me—ABOUT time I was done with that hellhole. Guess English class rubbed off a bit. But seriously, high school was terrible. Especially that bitch Valerie. Tells me she loves me for a year and makes me to think that maybe love exists after all. And then what does she do? As soon as I start opening up about my mom she says it’s over. Says she’s scared. That whore even told her friends about it all and they told everyone else to ‘watch out for Luke! He’s a dark one that psycho!’ Screw them and screw her. She and every other pretty girl are nothing but red meat. I can thank you for that imagery, Mom. Men need to use them and throw them out with the rest of the trash before they infect us with their self-righteous hypocrisy. No matter how nice they may act in the beginning, they will crush your soul in the end, if there is such a thing after all. I don’t need them. I don’t need Dad and I don’t need Mom and I don’t need friends. And I don’t need you either, God. They say you are there for someone in need, but wherever you are, you’re not here and neither should I be. So I’m leaving. I told Dad that it’s what I have to do and that he can’t stop me. I said I needed to see the world and find my place, wherever that is.

And you would have thought I had said I wanted to start World War Three!

It was classic Owen Chambers. Told me I ‘can’t work for a reputable company with nothing but a high school diploma.’ He told me to stop wasting time, get a degree, and stop acting like a child. I said college may happen one day, but now was not the time. I told him I needed time to think things through and I even brought up my ‘mixed emotions’ about Mom. He bought it all in the end and even had the audacity to say he’d miss me. But he’s giving me money while I’m gone so it’s all good I guess. I know his act is all a front. He’ll breathe easier when it’s just him. I’m leaving in two weeks to backpack Europe for the summer. I can’t wait to see what else the world has to offer.

I’ve really come to love writing in this thing. I’m sure I’ll dig you out to write down a thing or two when I get back. If I ever decide to come back that is.

              ~Luke

September ‘98

What a summer. Brussels, Paris, Madrid, London. What a great freaking summer. Can’t say being back has been much fun, but of course I knew it would be like this before I arrived. Dad said he was glad I was back and had gotten all that traveling out of me, like it was some terrible disease that I had to purge from my system. But it was everything but terrible. It was enlightening and it was exactly what I needed. My feet belong on the pavement, going someplace new. It’s a big world and I’ve only just begun to see it!

Anyway, Europe was amazing. I’m not going to sit here and try to write about the whole thing. Some stuff is better left to memory (I’m talking to you, Amsterdam). But I will say that more than anything my trip was . . . educational. They got it right over there, and I’m not just talking about culture, food, women, and cars. I’m talking politics and royalty. I’m talking about the rulers of men. You don’t see Europeans back talking the nobles. All I hear about in the States is ‘Oh no! Our president acted immoral and stained a dress. Impeach the bastard!’ or ‘Oh no! Last week some Muslims that we had been violently and illegally suppressing blew something else up in retaliation! Send in the Marines and kill them all!’ Say whatever you want about America’s so-called greatness, but kings and queens baby, that’s the way to do it. People there still talk about how the sky is falling because of their bogus politicians, but then they go out and swear by king and country until the day they die.

It’s sad though, I figure that part of Europe is dying and will be dead completely one day unless they change things up. I figure England is really the last great monarchy around, but even there the nobles are forced to answer to those under them. It just isn’t right. It’s a shame more Europeans are losing their respect for those who inherited their power. Regardless, I have a hope that they might one day come back around to their senses. They’ll realize they’re pissin’ on perfection and beg for a king to kneel before. And I’m not talking about some symbolic title. I’m talking about a genuine, Alexander the Great-type leader who doesn’t answer to the squalors below him. Who knows, maybe the good ol’ US of A will stop arguing between this flawed man and that flawed man and embrace what truly works. When you think about it, to become elected means you were once worthless and that you have to retain that part of you if are to relate to the people. But to be born into a position of power means you were destined for something more.

It means you were destined for greatness.

              ~Luke

March ‘99

For the second time in my life, I watched a person die.

I left the United States again, wanting to have a longer trip this time and thinking I might visit Switzerland or Austria, but that didn’t last long. I soon found myself eager to meet men who lived like the kings of old and I felt Europe was just too familiar. I knew most people I found wouldn’t have time for a nineteen-year-old nomad trying to find himself, but I was determined. So I left France and set out east to older lands. I have to say that nothing has ever been as enjoyable as the long, open road under the very boots that are taking me to see the most ancient of peoples.

I went to Israel and witnessed what I believe to be the most insincere nation in the world. They have temples made of gold and greedy millionaires around every corner, all while people starve in the streets a few miles away. And you know it’s like that everywhere there are Christians and Jews. I saw all this hurting and I saw the people with power doing nothing to help the poor. If people who had the ability to change the world used that power for good wouldn’t that be a better than building some golden temple to a God who doesn’t exist? Couldn’t we end war, hunger, hate? I don’t know. Though Jerusalem might have proven what I had always thought about religion, it was Egypt that confirmed my belief in the importance of seizing power for yourself.

America talks about Egypt as though it is the only safe haven for tourists over there other than Israel, but the Egyptians are just as nuts as the rest of the Middle East. They may act civilized, but mark my words, they’ll set their country afire one day when the animals inside them are let off their leashes. Anyway, Cairo was fine and all, but I wanted to see more than the crumbling ruins and half-finished monuments that everyone goes there to see. I wanted to get to know people from other walks of life intimately and understand what makes them tick. So I found friends where I could. I decided to stay a little longer and ended up renting out a flat or whatever the hell they call it by the Tahrir Square. Getting to see that way of life and meeting the people I did was great and all, but not long after I got there I saw something that truly changed my life.

I watched a man a little older than me rape a teenage girl in the back alley behind my apartment. Part of me wanted to help, but it was one of those rare moments where you witness something so life altering that you can’t help but just observe and soak it all in. Two weeks later, after word got out about what happened and the man confessed, he was beheaded as punishment. I realized then, as I watched him die screaming, that his death stemmed from the exact same weakness that I had perceived earlier during the rape.

While I had thought power over others was something great—this magnificent thing of importance—I realized it mattered for shit once you met someone more powerful than you. For example, that girl, though she had power over maybe a cockroach or a child, she was powerless against a violent, grown man. That grown man, while he had power over the girl he raped, was helpless against the men who beheaded him. But I know the men who beheaded him will eventually reach a brick wall that will make their authority worthless. In that moment, I realized that the chain of power would go higher and higher each time, but that it would also have to stop somewhere. I imagined all the good the person at the top could do if there was nothing standing in the way of them and their dreams. I guess the only real question that matters now is where is the last link in that chain of power?

And how the hell do I get there?

              ~Luke

August ‘00

I started college last week. I know, I know, whatever happened to my rage against the system? Well everything and everyone changes as time goes on I guess. As incredibly exciting as college been (can you taste the sarcasm?), I cannot help but feel completely dissatisfied so far. Here I am, a man who has already seen the world and hiked the long roads through older lands, but I can’t begin my next journey until I follow in the footsteps of every unmotivated student before me. Princeton is supposed to be a great school and all, but what a joke. I want to change the world, but they say I must first pass my Chem final and all of the other overrated, overpriced courses this place has to offer.

Men like me are leaders, not followers. We’re above the Ivy League assholes that are only here for a financially secure future. There’s so much more than wealth in this material world. I doubt Caesar, Pharaoh, Washington, or even Hitler were content with merely sitting back and following the status quo once they realized they were destined for greatness. I know I am here to lead and be revered by men. I am here to gain a following and do something great with my life. I talk about how great our future could be during class and at political rallies, but half of these deceived morons can’t see past Friday’s frat party. I guess the good news is the other half does hear my words, but my guess is they’re more than willing to listen but too afraid to join me on the stage. I don’t need people to hang around and nod their heads in approval just because they like what I say. I need world changers willing to act.