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Thread: Fall Out

  1. #81
    I'll most likely shit myself



    bacpacker's Avatar
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    Very nice Stig, Very nice!

  2. #82
    Do NOT mess with him while he's pumping gas.

    ak474u's Avatar
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    I think Miller's past is a great direction to go with this. Great story

  3. #83
    Claptrap's Problem Solver



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    Two days had passed since Webb’s plane zoomed off into the night and the battle around Lexington continued unabated as the President’s forces tightened the noose around Crutchfield’s doomed army. Minute-by-minute, and hour-by-hour, his men pushed forward and squeezed the cities defenders into an ever-shrinking circle of land.

    Crutchfield’s forces around Cincinnati did attempt to drive through the Presidents men to open a line of rescue for their beleaguered comrades. But their forces, greatly weakened by the fighting on the south bank of the Ohio River simply didn’t possess the firepower to breach the line formed at Georgetown, Kentucky.

    The President had moved sufficient forces into the area to capitalize on the situation that there was simply no way Crutchfield could reach his men.

    A couple supply aircraft were able to bob and weave past the besiegers to land and deliver supplies to the men. But as in any other siege in history, medical supplies and ammunition soon became precious commodities. Most of the meager number of supply planes sent were shot out of the sky long before they reached their destinations.

    Even the feigned assault into the north in Pennsylvania, originally meant as a diversion, was curtailed to maintain overall focus on destroying every last man defending Lexington.

    As the city was destroyed block-by-block, hundreds of years of history were lost in the process. Artillery shells, like their ancestors sixty years before, rained down on defenders while aircraft continued their surgical strikes on those holding out.

    The fighting was strongest on the south side of the city where some of Crutchfield’s armored forces were able to reassemble after the headlong retreat through the gauntlet of death around Richmond. Buildings and malls, signs of suburban strength, were reduced to rubble as the defenders did their best to contest their annihilation. They put forth a noteworthy effort to stem the tide of the President’s steamroller but with ammunition running out their fate was already sealed.

    Soon the artillery that harassed them around Richmond was moved into position to continue the same in Lexington. The orders to the artillery commanders had been a simple one: flatten Lexington.

    The destruction would continue for another week, with the last holdouts clinging to a several block area of the downtown. Before it was said and done, the large sports stadium, Rupp Arena was reduced to a pile of concrete and steel highlighted by the occasional blue plastic seat that found it’s way to the surface.

    By the end of the battle Crutchfield’s army had been destroyed and the loss was both catastrophic and utterly complete. The ramifications would reverberate throughout his rebellion as the enormity of the catastrophe was realized.

    Unless the situation was altered in some significant way, the balance of power now firmly rested back with the President. His patience and restraint had been rewarded.


    ****

    “You going to be ok?” asked Miller as he wiped sweat from his brow and dropped the shovel beside the grave.

    Choking back the tears Clarissa said, “Yea. Eventually.” She and Miller had just dug the grave and buried her father’s body back on ClarMar Farms. The Troopers had been so decimated by DeMetrie’s attack, and thrown into confusion by the sudden disappearance of Senator Donovan, that ClarMar was once again safe.

    The Troopers had callously left his body under a sheet next to the office building and miraculously no animals had scavenged it. Clarissa tenderly cleaned Greg’s face and straightened his clothes. Miller used one of DeMetrie’s discarded shirts to cover the bullet wounds in his chest.

    She wanted his final spot to be near her.

    “I’m going to start spreading the word to my employees and try to get things running again. No sense letting all this go to waste,” she said waving her arm back towards the farm. Other than the burned out ruin of the farmhouse, the litter of shell casings and bullet holes from the battle and a mess from where the Troopers searched the office building, the farm stood ready to produce goods for the county once more.

    She was strong. More importantly she was determined. Miller pitied the next man who would try to cross her.

    “Clarissa,” Miller said tenderly, “We don’t know how all of this is going to shake out. I wish you’d let me stick around.” He had planned on staying around to ensure nobody harassed her but she had flatly refused his offer.

    “Like I said Miller,” she replied, “I want everybody to know they can survive this tyranny and pull through. I guess I’m an idealist, but I want to stick it in their face by rebuilding without an army roving around. I want them to see we did it on our own.” It was clear there would be no convincing her.

    “You need to stay vigilant. If the Troopers come back or someone tries to take power you need to get out of here for good,” declared Miller after taking a long drink from the water stowed in the back of the truck.

    With a smile and a quick kiss on his cheek Clarissa said, “beneath the mysterious freedom fighting warrior lurks a total softie. Besides,” she said patting the AR-15 that laid beside her, “I think I’ve show I can use this guy.”

    “What about you?” she asked. “What do you think about everything that’s happened?”

    “Well, I tell you this much, that’s the last time I let my wife go shopping on the coast.”


    ****

    The effect of Donovan’s capture sent shockwaves through the Southern District. The hostilities that prompted his assumption of power were young enough that no real leadership structure or successor had been established. Miles Donovan was The Southern District.

    With Donovan out of the picture, politicians felt the strength to retrieve the reigns of power in their states and realign themselves with the President. Instead of being a lingering cancer that grew on his Southern flank, the states of the south simply reassumed normal life and reaffirmed their support for the President.

    Most of the military troops he had amassed to form a buffer between The Southern District and the Presidents forces never fully realized the deception Donovan had been perpetrating. Once it became clear their mission was in support of his personal gain, instead of strengthening the union, they fell back in line with the President.

    Some of his troops, corrupted by the power and rewards promised to them remained loyal to Donovan, but without a leader, or a command structure, they were too dispersed across the forces to amount to much. They either melted away or kept their mouths shut.

    The men and materiel suddenly freed from The Southern District represented a huge boost to the President’s war machine. Suddenly fresh troops and vehicles began filtering northward to reinforce the troops scattered from DC over to Kentucky. While Crutchfield licked his wounds from Lexington, the President was able to reinforce and strengthen his overall defensive line.

    The transformation back to normal life happened rapidly across the south. Cell phone and internet service returned and the days of checkpoints and Contractors faded into the past. The Troopers who had so abused their power were cleaned out wholesale and the rebuilding of the state police forces began.

    In The Southern District, the era of Miles Donovan had ended. Like the many despots before him who craved immortality, little would mark his reign other than fading memories.

    ****

    Epilogue

    Almost a full month had passed since Webb’s plane left the dark state highway. Miller had spent much of the time camping and living off the land while he sorted out what had taken place over the past year.

    The death of several of DeMetrie’s men. How he’d gotten Julie Dawson killed. Getting Tim Barnes involved in situations he couldn’t understand and his eventual death at Miller’s own hand. Greg Donner’s sacrifice. Clarissa’s humiliation. How loyal friends like Dink, Webb, DeMetrie and Klepper had been. Even the sacrifice of the other insurgents that pledged their loyalty to DeMetrie.

    All of the various close calls and frightening moments started to fade as he thought them through one by one and then released them from his mind.

    He wasn’t one to be morose and dwell.

    As he walked up the long dirt driveway he wondered if Eva, his daughter would recognize him. The dirty clothes and full beard bore little resemblance to the daddy she had left behind over a year ago.

    Rounding the bend leading towards the main house he looked up into the distance. His loyal dog, Coco, stood on the porch, head and ears perked high and tail wagging like mad.

    It was as if she had been waiting for her daddy to walk around that corner the entire time.
    If you think that come SHTF you are gonna jock up in all your kit and be a death-dealing one man army, you're an idiot - izzyscout

  4. #84
    Premium Member


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    Great ending to the trilogy.

  5. #85
    Premium Member


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    Fantastic! Please continue this storyline.

  6. #86
    I'll most likely shit myself



    bacpacker's Avatar
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    Excellent story Stig. every bit as good as the first 2. I eagerly await the next story, whichever path it takes.
    Thanks for your efforts.

  7. #87
    Resident Seafood Procurement Officer


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    Awesome, thanks.

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