Whiskey Black Book Set: The Complete Tyrant Series (Box Set 1) (3 page)

Carbondale Armory

Murphysboro, Illinois

July 13, 2031

2:15 a.m.

Captain Ebers concluded his telephone conference. He was more perplexed now than he was when he had left his home just a few minutes prior.

“That redefined
briefing
,” he said out loud to himself. He was the only person in his area and found himself at the head of a southern Illinois mass callout of all guardsmen under his watch. He had very little information and was frustrated at the lack of answers he would be able to supply to his men. He knew their questions would be many, but his answers would be few. This left him feeling illegitimate in his own eyes, and he was afraid he would lose the confidence and respect of his men.

With little information to go on, the captain pulled out his cell phone, scrolled to the group titled
Carbondale Armory
, and sent out a group message.

We’ve been activated. National crisis underway. Report immediately. FPCON DELTA.

FPCON stood for Force Protection Condition. It was a system set up decades earlier and was similar to the DEFCON (Defense Condition) system used decades prior to FPCON. Unlike the old nuclear threat level system, FPCON measured the threat level of terrorist-type attacks. A FPCON DELTA level informed military personnel that a terrorist threat was currently underway or had recently occurred.

Captain Ebers was highly concerned that the information he had received was minimal, at best. There was a quick reference to an operation titled
Acts of Defiance
, which led him to believe the threat may not be foreign but domestic. He was feeling a high level of anxiety. The seconds that passed by seemed like minutes, and the minutes felt like hours. Ebers waited patiently to hear from his command sergeant that all members had replied.

Ring, ring
, Captain Ebers’s phone rang out.

Anticipating a phone call from Command Sergeant Thomas Damm, Ebers didn’t even look at the screen of his cell phone when he answered.

“Sergeant, how many of our men have you heard from?”

“Captain Ebers, this is Colonel Wright. Stand down.”

Murphysboro, Illinois

July 13, 2031

2:24 a.m.

Sam was still awake watching the news, but Stephen had fallen asleep with his head resting on her lap towards the TV. She could hardly believe how fast the United States was unraveling. She may not have been a politically minded individual, but she could see that things were already akindle before the President threw in her highly combustible speech.

Her hand was resting on Stephen’s neck, her favorite spot to caress when he was lying close to her. Trying hard to savor the intimate moment alone with her husband, she tried to push all negative things out of her mind. The TV remote was in Stephen’s hand. Desiring to turn off the TV so she could push the negative things from her mind, she gently grabbed the remote, only to be interrupted by a vibrating notification from his cell phone.

We’ve been activated. National crisis underway. Report immediately. FPCON DELTA.

Vvv
,
vvv
, the phone rang out. It was sitting on the coffee table, which amplified its awakening effect on Stephen.

Sitting up in a hurry, he wiped his eyes and grabbed the phone. Sam had a gut-wrenching feeling that it was the Guard calling him in. She gently grabbed his hand and simply said, “Please.”

He looked at her, knowing she didn’t want him to leave.

“Babe, you know I have to take this.”

“They’re going to call you away from me.”

He wasn’t a selfish man, and that was one of the things that drew her to him. It was his sense of selflessness that made him attractive to her. That being said, she was feeling a bit selfish for fear of losing him. She was well aware of the dangers now lurking on every American street.

Stephen, using both hands to caress her face, kissed her and said, “I have to answer it.”

Sam’s heart sank.

He grabbed the phone and saw a text notification from his captain, Alex Ebers. The text read
We’ve been activated. National crisis underway. Report immediately. FPCON DELTA.

“What’s it say?” she asked. Her anticipation was welling up inside of her.

“It says that we’re in FPCON DELTA.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means we’ve been attacked by terrorists.”

Sam looked back at the television and said, “I’ve been watching all night and haven’t heard anything about a terrorist attack.”

“We’re the terrorists, hon.”

“You mean, we the people?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

Stephen was already on his feet.

“You get the bugout bags ready while I pack my duty gear,” Stephen said. He was briskly walking to the bedroom, where he had his duty gear tucked away. The bedroom was dimly lit because the low-efficiency bulbs just didn’t put out that much light. His bed stand was at the head of his side of the bed, and just under the top shelf, secured in a secret compartment, was a small Smith & Wesson .380 semiauto pistol. He was authorized to possess firearms because of his National Guard commitment.

For the most part, strict gun-control legislation had taken its toll on the country. It was no surprise to most firearm advocates that crime rates had escalated with gun-related violence taking first place in overall averages in every state. Strict legislation undermined the Second Amendment of the US Constitution, leaving the people of the United States begging the government for more security. It was the perfect scheme. Adalyn Baker’s plan to usurp the people’s right to bear arms couldn’t be accomplished until the need for more security outweighed their desire to possess firearms. She didn’t see the Second Amendment as a means for the people to defend itself against a tyrannical government. She saw it as the nation’s right to protect the people from themselves.

Hearing her parents stirring about in the bedroom and seeing the light from across the hall, little Evan roused from her comfortable bed to see what her parents were doing at such a strange hour.

“Mommy, Daddy, what are you doing?” she asked, squinting her eyes and shying from the light. Although the efficiency lighting wasn’t that bright, it was to a freshly awakened tender-eyed child.

Stephen looked at Sam, hoping her motherly tact and wisdom would know what to say. She had a way with childlike words and knew how to frame them in such a way to make them understandable for Evan’s mind.

Sam stepped up and said, “Hon, bad people are doing things we don’t like. We might have to leave home and go somewhere to keep us safe.”

“Okay,” little Evan said, walking back toward her room.

Sam had started packing the bugout bag when Evan strolled into the room with her stuffed Minion doll. She handed it to her mommy, hoping she would grab it and stuff it into the bag.

Sam looked at Evan with sad eyes, but put a smile on her face to cover it up. Evan only saw the smile, being too young to read her sad eyes.

“Here, give me Minion and I’ll keep him safe.”

Stephen, being more practical than emotional, saw that Sam was packing nonessentials.

“Take only what we need to survive with. A stuffed animal is useless.”

“It’s not
useless
, hon. We can use it to comfort Evan.”

“Fine, but no more toys. We’re going to need the space for essentials, and
comfort
isn’t essential.”

Sam’s heart was saddened by what she was realizing. They both knew that this day would come, yet it took them both by surprise.

Stephen had met a thirty-six-year-old Marine vet and conservative blogger named Nathan Roeh at a preparedness expo a couple years previously. Nathan was the leader of a survival group called Southern Illinois Home Guard. He boasted a group size of around seventy members, but only had about twenty that were faithful to group meetings and training events. He invited Stephen to attend a few meetings and maybe even join after he was properly vetted and wanted to be a member. Stephen was definitely interested and eventually took up membership, becoming one of the faithful members. The group had crisis plans, complete with several response formulations, depending on the crisis. The location for the area of operation was a small rural area off of the highway and nestled along the Mississippi River in the small town of Gorham, just a few miles down the road. That was to be Sam and Evan’s destination. Stephen had a responsibility to the National Guard and felt his country’s call. He was a patriot before anything else, but things were changing, and it was hard for him to get a feeling for his role as a national guardsman in these dark times.

“When do you think you’ll make it back to Gorham?” she asked.

“I don’t know, babe. I’m not even sure of what’s happening. This doesn’t feel right, with martial law and all that. The government’s responsible for most of America’s ailments, and now I fear the government’s turning on its people. It no longer sees them as citizens. More like
occupants
,” he said, stuffing the last piece of gear into his bag. “Are you about done?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, standing up to give Stephen a kiss. “I’m scared, babe,” she said.

“Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. Do you still have that CheapTalk emergency cell phone we bought a while back?”

“Yeah, but it’s out of juice and stuffed in the bugout bag.”

“It’s no good in there. Better pull it out and juice it up. Nathan has the contact number for that phone. He was supposed to call it if we go under martial law.”

Stephen went into Evan’s room and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. She was already back to sleep. He reminisced about the days when sleep was easy to come by at night. To feel that again would be a dream come true.

After leaving Evan’s room, he swung back into the bedroom, where Sam was sitting on the edge of the bed. He could see the sadness in her eyes, even though she tried to blanket them with a smile.

“I’ll be back, babe. You’ll see. Just wait for the phone call from Nathan. Do exactly as he instructs. He’s got a good sense of decisiveness and initiative. I’ll be back here, looking for you, as soon as possible. If you’re not here, I’ll know you’re with the Gorham group. You’ll be fine.”

He looked into her eyes one more time, caressed her face, and kissed her goodbye.

Sam escorted him to the back door and watched him leave under cover of darkness.

Carbondale Armory

“Sir, I have direct orders from General Graves to activate my company and get them up to speed on FPCON DELTA, Captain Ebers said on the phone to Colonel Wright.

Captain, General Graves aims to use your men against the American populace. You have a right to refuse any direct order in violation of the US Constitution. You swore the same oath I did. You can see what’s going on here. I know you do. Look around you. America is in shambles and it’s going further south the longer we stand at committee.”

“Colonel, the general said
any orders I receive should be questioned and challenged.
”

You’re a strong leader, Captain Ebers. That’s why I’m going to leave this decision to you. If you send your men into those cities, it’ll be brother against brother.”

“What are our options, otherwise?”

To form an active resistance of likeminded commanders. We can recruit members of the patriot movement. Most of them are already angry with our government. They’re ready to bring back the republic.”

“Where can we meet?”

Bring your men and equip—”

The phone went dead in the middle of Colonel Wright’s petition.

“Hello? … Hello?” Captain Ebers pleaded with the dead phone. He pulled it away from his ear and looked at the screen. The call ended.

Captain Ebers attempted to call the colonel back, but all he heard was a recording.

We’re sorry, but the person you are calling has a number that has been changed, disconnected, or is no longer in service.

Captain Ebers hit the
Call End
button to hang up the phone, and sighed. Perplexed as to what course of action he should take, he attempted to call his command sergeant.

A familiar tone filled his ears as he heard the same message.

We’re sorry, but the person you are calling has a number that has been changed, disconnected, or is no longer in service.

He tried calling his wife, but it was more of the same.

The District

President Adalyn was being escorted to the White House Situation Room. She no longer traveled alone and had multiple Secret Service members with her, even in her own home.

Arriving at the Situation Room, she could see the holographic projections that were being streamed live from satellite systems that orbited over the US.

The Joint Chiefs of Staff were with her at her request.

“Gentlemen, thank you for coming on such short notice. As you can see from these live projections, the United States is under attack. This is why I have initiated Operation AOD.”

“With all due respect, Madam President, FPCON DELTA was started to defend against actual terrorist attacks, not Americans,” General John James, commandant of the United States Marine Corps, said.

“And what is an actual terrorist to you, General?” Baker snapped back.

Refusing to fall victim to her play on words, he said, “We have been at war for decades against legitimate Islamic extremists. These people are actively passing through an unsecure border, bringing their jihad with them—”

“And now we can’t tell who’s who,” she interrupted. “Many of these perpetrators are US citizens, whether you see them that way or not.”

General James knew he would not win an argument against the President. So he digressed.

“As I was saying before the commandant interrupted me, I initiated Operation Acts of Defiance because many of our own denizens are actively engaging its government in open insurgency. The people are boldly committing acts of treason in the streets, and many of them are our own veterans and law enforcement personnel who have refused to enforce the law.”

“If I may, Madam President,” General Michael Graves spoke up. “As Chief of the National Guard Bureau, I must say that we are wholly unequipped for such a status, as you are presenting it.”

“As I’m presenting it? Please explain.”

“I understand that under Title 10 of the US code, you have assumed powers over the militia of the several states, but we don’t have the manpower nor the inclination to do what is being asked.”

“I’m not asking you, General. The article I call on is constitutional, and I intend to use it to destroy the insurrection that’s at our gates.”

“Madam President, the insurrection you speak of is the people as a whole. They’re demanding a new government. It’s their right.”

“Maybe you’d like to join them, General?”

General Graves was beaten. He too, digressed.

“Gentlemen, we’ll need every county agency involved. I’ve already placed Director Brumhurst in charge of reorganizing the states into regions that can be more effectively managed by FEMA. I’ve also taken control of cell towers to eliminate any communications that might hamper our progress. The notice has gone out, and our men and women in uniform will answer the call. If our entire military and a million national guardsmen can’t do the job, then I’ll call on the United Nations to assist. They’ve already pledged their support. Gentlemen, make sure I don’t have to call on the UN. I’d rather keep this internal.”

President Baker walked out, and the men stared at each other, each one trying to get a read on the other and each unwilling to speak his mind for fear of what may happen.