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Thread: Awakening

  1. #1
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    Awakening

    Copyright - 2010. No reproduction without my consent.

    Thanks for reading!

    Awakening

    Reverend Tim Barnes finished up the last of his paperwork in his now darkened study. A lone desk lamp illuminated the desktop but left most of the office shrouded in darkness. It had been a long day of counseling sessions and administrative duties. A ministers work was never truly done.

    He leaned back in his desk chair and reflected back on the day and the events of the past six months. All he could do was shake his head in disbelief. The country was in the process of tearing itself apart as Northeast fought the people of the Midwest and Mid Atlantic states.

    Jackson Crutchfield had instigated a civil war after being impeached and removed from office in disgrace. His social leanings and foreign polices nearly tore the country apart despite all his promises of a new tone in Washington. After President Alan took office by defeating Crutchfield’s Vice President in the next election the divide of the country only deepened.

    The social leanings of Cruthfield were the apex of thirty years of liberal ideology in the country. Their wholesale repudiation across most of the country left the predominately liberal Northeastern states bitter and simmering with rage. The conservatives who swept into office with President Alan were no better as they acted more as conquerors than elected officials. The divide intensified.

    It only took several trumped up riots and much Machiavellian intrigue for the war to erupt. This wasn’t the first time in history that a country tore itself apart over political differences.

    The effects in the South were odd. Senator Donovan had forged a collation of several states to form a defensive zone. Through political maneuvering, and underhandedness of his own Donovan lead this collation. President Alan believed he had Senator Donovan’s support when in reality Donovan was buying time to strengthen his hand. He’d forge an alliance with whoever won the battle in the north.

    The Senator practiced all sorts of political trickery to lead the President into believing he was being supported in full. It was a masterful performance as the Senator dodged and weaved the requests for military troops or had to explain why he was speaking on behalf of several states. For his part the President was willing to accept the situation in the South so he could focus on the north.

    There had been several more small battles with various outcomes. The President was able to recall most of his troops from the Middle East and Korea and assemble them into fighting formations. Despite some desertions he had a much larger, cohesive and battle hardened group of men to use.

    He faced problems too, however. He had to defend a much larger territory than did Crutchfield. The President also insisted on setting up a defensive ring through the states of Ohio, West Virginia, Virginia and Maryland and practiced a strategy of containment thus diluting his strength. Nobody could convince him to go for the jugular and use his overwhelming strength to crush Crutchfield before he got stronger.

    Meanwhile Jackson Crutchfield continued to build his strength. Many political compatriots from across the country either fled to the Northeast or sent money. More importantly, a host of foreign countries, none with America’s best interests at heart, poured in resources and equipment to the Northeast before an effective blockade could be established. Even when it was, enterprising foreign interests found ways to get money and equipment to Crutchfield.

    Another battle was brewing but for some reason a standoff of sorts had developed. Crutchfield didn’t want to overplay his hand and President Alan couldn’t seem to find the strength to play his at all.

    ****

    Reverend Barnes led a large church along the coast and his history was a strange one. He had been in a promising career selling industrial products when one day he felt the call to the alter. Within a week he had quit his job, enrolled in the seminary, and began the process of becoming a man of the cloth.

    After several stints in smaller churches he was transferred to his current church of Falls Creek Christian Church. It was an eclectic mix of races, ages and social status but one thing it wasn’t was contemporary and flashy. If you weren’t careful you could easily mistake it for a Catholic church.

    As the civil war blossomed in the north, life continued on in the south. The original martial law orders issued at the beginning of the conflict were lifted after a several weeks and those troops were redeployed and marshaled closer to the border. Gun confiscations had happened but they were haphazard and mostly ineffective.

    Senator Donovan had enacted rationing of various staple items including gasoline, bottled water, sugar, and other normal basic items. Electricity had also been rationed; if you exceeded a preset amount for the month you were fined heavily. Some folks dealt with this by generators or solar panels, but most folks learned to get a lot more done during the day.

    Other changes included the halting of all mail, the jamming of cell phones and Internet services. Landlines did return, however, so you could at least make calls locally or across a region. But no calls were allowed outside the Southern zone and most people took it for granted that someone monitored their calls.

    The biggest change was the increasing presence of the contractors. Senator Donovan had a seemingly endless supply of contractors to use to augment the remaining law enforcement agencies. Between the law enforcement officers who remained at their posts and the growing numbers of contractors Senator Donovan was able to enforce his will on the people in the Southern Zone as he liked to call it.

    An interesting phenomenon had taken place in the past few months. The Senator had enough supporters with nothing better to do than report on their neighbors that a defacto secret police was starting to form.

    The Reverend whistled a sad tune as he locked up his office and walked across the parking lot to his parsonage. Weaving through the hedges he deftly navigated the moonlit night and began preparing a small meal.

    As he sat down to his bowl of potato soup and crackers at a dimly lit table he was startled by the loud ringing of the phone. He didn’t bother to get up and it stopped after two rings. As he took another spoonful of his soup the phone rang again twice and stopped.

    As he prepared himself a drink he contemplated the meeting the ringing phone signaled. Tomorrow promised to be a busy day.

  2. #2
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    Forty miles north of the coast, in the county seat of Shelton, Richard Werner sat at the desk in the Sheriffs office. His company, Aperture Consulting was incorporated into Senator Donovans unified command of contractors that most people simply referred to as Associates.

    Werner cut his teeth in the African city of Mogadishu and various Bosnian hellholes. After returning from active duty he kicked around various jobs until one of his friends convinced him to become a partner in Aperture. Over time the company had grown in scope and size and Werner eventually took over control of the entire company.

    Based on his performance carrying out some errands Senator Donovan euphemistically called “special projects” he had earned the Senator’s trust. When trouble started to flare up in this rural county Werner was dispatched as a problem solver.

    The previous contractor in the area ended up being hauled off to one of the special camps that had sprung up to house troublemakers. The previous sheriff had been killed in the line of duty and his mutilated remains were found in the burnt out home of John Miller. Miller was a person of interest and was now one of Werner’s many concerns, albeit low on the priority list. Somehow he had gone completely off the grid although whispers had it that he moved around the Lumberton area with some frequency.

    After reviewing some staffing levels and a stack of field reports Werner poured himself a tall scotch and sunk into the overstuffed couch in his office.

    He had a few ideas on how he’d catch Miller but those would have to wait while he dealt with the many other pressing concerns in Shelton and the surrounding counties. He kicked off his boots, sunk further into the couch and dozed off to sleep for the night.

    ****

    Sunlight bathed the landscape as light dew coated the grass in the pasture. Several hundred head of cows dotted the landscape in the field as they dined on a breakfast of grass. Like any other farm in the world, the air would be punctuated by moos and grunts as the cows went about their morning routine.

    Clarissa Donner dejectedly tossed a crescent wrench onto the ground in frustration. She had been attempting to fix a broken ATV for several hours. Every time she thought she had the problem licked the recalcitrant ATV would run worse. She had successfully fixed the mechanical device to the point it wouldn’t event start.

    Her husband, Mark, had been deployed overseas on multiple tours of duties in various Middle Eastern dumps. He had finally returned to the United States only to be sent to some remote outpost in Ohio as part of President Alan’s containment strategy. He’d been allowed one short phone call to break the bad news.

    The farm actually belonged to Clarissa’s father Greg. At eighty-six he was mostly confined to his stuffed chair in the den or the front porch of the farmhouse where he was glad to instruct anybody on how they were doing things incorrectly. Between Clarissa and a seeming army of hired hands, the farm continued to operate smoothly.

    Other than the ATV that laid in pieces, Clarissa found she had a knack for operating a farm smoothly and under her guidance it grew to be several thousand acres and produced far more revenue than Greg could have ever imagined. Cows, hay, some hens, even goats. Clarissa had a lot of smaller ventures that added up into big money. Better yet, she seemed to have a magic touch to make money.

    Located about fifteen miles south and slightly west of Lumberton the farm had become a quiet powerhouse and a source of employment for many.

    “Damn piece of junk” she declared as she walked up the porch pushing a wild stalk of her long brown hair out of her face.

    “I told you to call Smitty in town to get that fixed” lectured her father.

    As she handed him a fresh cup of coffee she said “Dad, I told you he was a drunk and I wasn’t giving him any more money”.


    ****

    Reverend Barnes arrived for work early that day. After some further administrative chores he made his way to the sanctuary where he took his traditional seat in the front pew. He spent nearly a half hour in earnest prayer about the various issues facing congregants and the church itself.

    After kneeling at the foot of a large wooden cross for several minutes the Reverend got in his car and drove down the road to a large nursing home complex to make his rounds of some elderly members who were riding out their final days.

    “Morning Father” announced Ron Little.

    Reverend Barnes smiled and cajoled the elderly man. “Ron, how many times do I have to correct you? I am not a priest” he said as he took up a chair next to the dieing man.

    “You’d think they’d care about a dieing old man. I can’t get a priest to bother to come see me. You’ll do though” he said teasingly as he ribbed his friend. Ron knew the end was near, and although he’d never say it, he appreciated that Barnes came to see him.

    Ron, a man of Croatian decent, had been involved in all sorts of creative and intriguing adventures in the 1950’s and 1960’s. To say he was experienced would be an understatement. In areas like New York City or Boston you might say he was connected but in the south he was just accepted as a business man who happened to know a lot of the right people. He had some association with the Dixie Mafia as recently as the 1980’s but like many things in the south, that wasn’t the sort of thing that was discussed by polite people.

    As he shuffled the cards the Reverend looked at his elderly companion. “Alright Ron. Seems to me I’m down $100 to you. At least let a poor man of the cloth win some of it back”.

    The frail elderly man laughed, intermixed with spasmodic coughing. The cold specter of death was not overly far away for Ron Little .

    ****

    Werner gathered together his force of six contractors before they left on their raid. He wanted to pass along final instructions and make sure they were all clear of their mission.

    “As you all know the target is this farmhouse here” he pointed at the map. “You’ve all been given your individual assignments. I just wanted to remind you to stay vigilant at all times. There’s been an increase in anti-contractor activity in the area. Don’t hesitate to defend yourselves and apprehend anybody who interferes with your activities. Got it?”

    The battle gear clad men all nodded in unison.

    “Ok. Be sure to gather whatever information you can from the house and any surrounding buildings. Nothing is too small or insignificant. I want the targets brought back to me alive so we can continue to gather information on these troublemakers”.

    Werner had taken to referring to anybody who interfered with the contractors as troublemakers. He didn’t want to legitimize them with some catchy name.

    “When you get outside, perform your final weapons inspections and go in hot. Your section lead has the operation from here”.

    He watched them as they did a final review of their gear outside of City Hall and then load into a large pickup that sported a light machine gun mounted to the roof. Four of the men rode in the cab while one manned the machine gun from the bed of the truck and the other assisted him.

    Hopefully this raid will lead to some helpful information he though as he went back to the days work.

  3. #3
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    The section lead of the contractors gave directions to the driver from the passenger seat of the truck. They had GPS, which was very helpful, but he had one of the men in the back using a paper map as practice. You could never stay too fresh with the fundamental skills.

    The sun shone brightly in the late morning sky as the truck navigated narrow, winding country roads on the way to the farm in the outer part of the county. Werner had gotten a tip from one of his many resources that some strange activities were taking place at the farm and this group of contractors was sent out to gather what intel they could.

    The men fully expected a cakewalk. The owners of the farm were elderly and other than some immigrant farm workers there wouldn’t be too many people to subdue. They should be back to City Hall to enjoy a hot lunch.

    The truck slowed as it approached a one-line bridge common in the area. “After this bridge, take your next left,” instructed the map reader in the back. “Once we turn left you’ll go abou…..”

    The calm morning air was shattered as the truck rolled over an improvised explosive of some sort. The massive explosion launched the truck a full meter into the air before it slammed back to the ground in a ball of twisted metal and flames that instantly killed several of the team.

    The two men in the open back were thrown clear of the truck and landed well clear of the wreckage. Stunned they laid in the grass for several minutes as they collected themselves.

    The section leader was able to roll himself out of the truck, despite a gash in his leg and make it to the relative safety of the side of the road while several gunshots followed him unsuccessfully.

    As he attempted to control his breathing, and he looked down at his bleeding leg the world suddenly started moving in slow motion. He’d been in tough situations before and he immediately began scanning for where the rifle shots were coming from. His sidearm had miraculously not been blown off him and he prepared for whatever might come his way.

    The two contractors from the back of the truck didn’t fare so well. While the hulk of the mangled pickup continued to burn, they foolishly decided to begin moving towards the bridge. Within seconds two rifle shots rang out and they crumpled to the ground in successive heaps.

    As the truck burned and the seconds turned to minutes the section leader gingerly began scooting further down the embankment that led down from the road. He figured discretion was the better part of valor after watching his last two men gunned down. Maybe if he could hide out he’d be able to make his way back later on or Werner would send men looking once they didn’t return.

    A clump of trees and bushes were clustered along the bottom of the several foot high embankment. He was able to scoot backwards into the area and mostly cover himself from obvious view while he initial shock was wearing off and the throbbing in his leg intensified.

    He thought he might just be able to pull this off when a voice came from behind him. “Sorry man, this isn’t your lucky day”. Before the section lead could turn around a shot rang out. The section lead would never make it back to Shelton.

    The dirty man in shabby camouflage pants and a plain green jacket scurried up to the roadway and attempt to verify that all the occupants of the truck were dead. The intense flames prevented him from getting too close but also made it equally obvious there were no survivors.

    He waved to a figure barely visible to the side of the road fifty yards past the bridge. Within seconds he zoomed to the scene of the shattered pickup on a small motorbike with a small rifle slung across his back.

    The man in the shabby camouflage pants and jacket yelled over the loud engine, “That’s all of them, lets go” as he hopped on the back of the bike. The driver revved the engine and rapidly accelerated away from the burning truck and dead bodies. Within a half-mile they turned off the road and started making their way through nearly unseen trails that led overland.

    When they had made it some distance away from the bridge the man in back leaned forward and said into the drivers ear “that was easier than last time”.

    The driver, who looked strangely like Cuba Gooding Junior, smiled and picked up speed as he expertly dodged tree branches.


    ****

    The buildings didn’t look like much. There were several, single story, cinderblock buildings with flat roofs tucked in amongst thick forest. The faded green paint helped hide them to the point that flying overhead you likely wouldn’t notice them and the paths that led to them on the ground were faint and weather worn.

    A small creek meandered about one hundred yards away from the cluster of buildings. It was a convenient water supply and in spots was deep enough to bathe or pretend to swim. The buildings dated back to the 1920’s when the farmer who built them intended to use them in the course of his business. Then the great depression happened, the farmer went bust and the buildings were forgotten. As property lines were redrawn over the years the buildings became more and more lost to history.

    As Sam Reynolds and his passenger steered their motorbike through the woods and across the stream, there looked like no signs of life in the buildings. Pulling up to one, the rider in the shabby field jacket pulled open a single door sliding door and pulled it shut just as quickly after Sam drove the bike inside.

    Once inside they parked the bike next to several others and covered them with a tarp. It was obvious the area was make-shift garage by the bikes and one large jeep that was parked there.

    Without a word the men passed through a dividing wall into more of an office like setting. The long, narrow building had been sub-divided into a series of offices and other rooms. Making their way into a large conference room they poured themselves some coffee from a small maker and plopped down in the shabby chairs.

    “That didn’t go so bad Sam” offered up the man.

    After nearly gagging on the burnt coffee Sam responded. “No Lowry, not so bad at all”.

    “I hope you two love birds aren’t going to congratulate yourselves all day” came the admonition of Mike DeMetrie. The six foot, one hundred and ninety pound Mike DeMetrie still looked like a recruiting poster. Somehow after living off the land for six months he still found a way to shave and wear mostly clean clothes.

    DeMetrie had been sent to the county six months ago to implement the martial law ordered by Senator Donovan. It had become apparent that his career in the National Guard was over after a run in with some contractors who had been harassing an innocent man. When it became clear that more than his retirement package was in jeopardy he made a decision to undertake a mission of a different sort.

    “Report?” he inquired of his men. Despite being out of the military both men, who had served under him, respected and responded to DeMetrie as if he were still their commanding officer. In a lot of ways, he still was.

    Sam looked at Lowry, who clearly liked to do the talking. “The explosive worked a lot better this time. Pretty much did all the work for us. We counted six men. All of them were neutralized.”

    “You sure you weren’t observed?” challenged DeMetrie.

    Sam spoke up this time. “Nope, we set up the ambush site a full hour before the contractors arrived. Not a single car came by before they did “

    “Outstanding. It will be interesting to hear how this one shakes out” said DeMetrie. The men had been careful to not be too overt in their actions against contractors. It had taken many months to set up a base of operations and they had only started their missions to harass the contractors six weeks ago.

    Their first missions were complete dry runs. Not a shot was fired and the contractors were not even aware of the men’s presence. They then elevated to acts of minor vandalism. Clearly a slashed tire would not cause them to pack up shop and leave but DeMetrie wanted to test their response and see how their men handed things.

    They were careful to carry out their missions all over the county and several adjoining it to avoid signaling their location. Their first attempt at a major mission didn’t work out as well as today’s when the explosive device failed to detonate. In the heat of the moment, DeMetrie had chosen to fire a couple of pot shots at the contractors.

    It was an inspired move really. Townspeople all over the county, and especially in Lumberton were hostile to the contractors. The leader of the contracting group walked a fine line of allowing some discontent to avoid fueling a full rebellion if he cracked down and making sure things didn’t get out of hand. A couple of pot shots at a truckload of contractors was just what one would expect from angry rednecks. The incident went largely unnoticed.

    Today’s activities would not be mistaken for anything other than an outright attack on the contractors. DeMetrie was lucky that the contractor’s route took them to the northeastern part of the county, far away from their area. Still, they had worked out the details of how they would make the attack and even rehearsed them to ensure success. While he had only sent two men, it was important to him that they be safe and the attack send a clear message.

    “Ok boys, get cleaned up and grab some chow. Relax the rest of the day but we all have work to do in the morning”.

    Lowry made no attempt to disguise his displeasure. “I thought I was going to see the world, not take up residence on Green Acres”

  4. #4
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    Reverend Barnes finished his rounds at the local nursing home down another twenty dollars to Ron Little. He parted company with his elderly friend and the other congregants he had visited and got into his small car. Because of the fuel rationing he used it only sparingly but he had to travel to the storage building the church held across town.

    It had been donated and paid for in perpetuity by a prosperous member who had died. With a small loading dock and attached office it made for the perfect place to stage donations for the poor and facilitate pickups by other charitable organizations. Managing this facility was one of Barnes’s duties. Like many other churches across the country he had to perform the roles of spiritual leader, business manager, accountant, truck driver, janitor and repairman.

    Once a week he had pickups scheduled by local charitable organizations to gather up the supplies his church had gathered. It was a convenient way for his church to make donations and other organizations to gather up supplies. Some days it was quiet and provided the reverend time to think, other days it was hectic with people arriving and leaving the entire afternoon.

    It was shortly before 2:00pm when Barnes arrived at the small building and made his way into the office. Ever mindful to the power consumption used he refrained from turning on the lights, instead relying on the natural light. This meant that the office area was bathed in light while the back of the warehouse was dimly lit at best.

    “Hello Reverend Barnes!” called out the middle-aged man who had pulled up in a station wagon.

    The Reverend smiled and waved back. “Howdy do Cecil”.

    “You ready for me to go shoppin?”

    Tim always played along as if this was the funniest joke he had heard all day. It was likely a holdover from his days in sales but he had a way of making people feel very comfortable and as if he hung on their every word, no mater how banal the conversation might be.

    After twenty minutes of transferring boxes into the station wagon and checking off materials from a master list Cecil made his departure. Despite being on the cool side, Barnes had worked up a good sweat and thirst to go with it.

    Grabbing a soda out of a case kept in the back of the warehouse area he was startled when a voice called out.

    “Why Reverend Barnes, I thought your body was a temple”.

    Barnes spun around and smiled. It was hard to make out the man from the darkness of the warehouse and with the light at his back, but the six foot, two hundred pound frame and voice left little doubt to the man’s identity.

    “Hello brother Miller”.

    ****

    Miller reviewed the type written list of supplies Barnes had set aside for him. They included expected items like food, paper goods and blankets. Since the Reverend had control of the dispersion of the donated supplies it didn’t take much effort to funnel off some of the items to Miller.

    “Looks good Tim. Thanks for the hand towels, those come in really handy” said Miller.

    Barnes looked at his dark haired friend. “I’m guessing I don’t really want to know about all the uses for those”.

    Miller just looked at Barnes overtop the clipboard with a smile and nod.

    “These other supplies are perfect too. Those will come in very handy” stated Miller. Miller was now looking over a handwritten list of items Barnes had accumulated. “But what did I tell you about writing out lists? Great for organization, horrible for security”.

    “Sorry John. Ministers habit” demurred Barnes.

    “I know. But you aren’t a nun, and you don’t need the trouble. Next time, no lists”

    Barnes and Miller had met shortly after John and his wife Christy had moved to the South. Barnes liked to shoot and had been part of an impromptu shooting party that resulted in a lot of friendly ribbing and Miller buying cases of beer as a goodwill offering after beating all the southern boys.

    Barnes didn’t like the way Senator Donovan was handling the Southern Zone and was smart enough to know the Senator wasn’t taking over the reigns of power out of the goodness of his heart. He was equally smart enough to know that in his position of leader of the church he had the means to effect events behind the scenes. It wouldn’t be the first time in history a man of the cloth played a subversive role in local politics.

    Many months ago there was a knock at the French-windows of his parsonage. It was late at night and he was startled to see John Miller on his porch. By early that morning they had worked out the details of how Miller would enact his plans and Barnes would help support him with clandestine supplies and money.

    The off-site warehouse and charitable goods distribution was a perfect cover. That Miller wasn’t from the area meant he would blend in with the stream of people looking for handouts and Barnes could conduct the transactions away from his congregation.

    “Three cases of 5.56x45 ammo?” asked John.

    “Sorry John” replied the Reverend. “Was the best I could do without arousing suspicion. Had to go to six different shops too get some of it, and worked with…..well….some understanding friends in the church to collect the balance”.

    As time elapsed after their initial meetings Barnes identified and carefully felt out several of the more influential members of his congregation. Once he was satisfied they’d be sympathetic, Barnes gingerly broached the subject of politics. He had found three men willing to help with his scheme. That one of them was an Elder, the other a Deacon didn’t hurt.

    “No Tim. That’s amazing. That’s two more than I expected. We’re putting the finishing touches on the reloading station so this will help bridge the gap. We expect usage to increase so this is great”.

    Barnes was smart enough to not ask what would drive the increased ammunition consumption.

    “Oh, John, I think I have a bead on the shotgun ammo you requested. One of our understanding friends had a big stock of from his Uncles estate. Not sure how old it is but he should know something by next week” offered up Barnes.

    Miller smiled at his friend. “Mild mannered minister my ass” he thought to himself.

    “Alright Tim. Let’s load this up so I can get out of here. Never know who’s watching” said Miller. Miller didn’t actually think they were under surveillance but he felt the need to continually remind the politically enlightened minister to be alert and on-guard.

    As they placed the last of the supplies in Miller’s vehicle Barnes felt compelled to ask, “John, are you and your men ok”.

    With a casual smile, that belied the danger of the mission they were undertaking, Miller replied “Revered Barnes, I’m shocked. Have you lost sight of Psalm 23:4? Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for I kick ass and have lots of guns”.

    Barnes watched as Miller drove off. He couldn’t lie to himself. It was very exciting to be a part of some underground organization. He wondered if Ron Little ever felt the same way. Then again, his underground organization had a bit more noble motives than Ron’s. He knew they were doing the right thing, no matter what the risks.

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    Miller was going to return north via the back-roads on a circuitous route that would take him to what he and DeMetire simply called “the farm”. Driving was always a dangerous time for them as they hadn’t yet gotten fake drivers licenses made. One small accident, or a forgotten turn signal could result in a traffic stop and interaction with law enforcement. That was something they needed to avoid at all costs.

    Barnes had a line on some forgeries for them that would allow for easier travel. Miller had the advantage of not being well known in Lumberton and a complete ghost in the coastal areas. As long as he didn’t get near Shelton where he had lived previously, the chances of being identified were low. DeMetrie and his men weren’t known by anybody in the county so they blended in easily.

    He eased the pickup through the back streets of the city as he made his way towards the first lonely state highway that would take him back towards the farm.

    Miller had liked Reverend Barnes from the first time they’d met. While Miller knew it was risky reaching out to him, at the time he was confident that at the very least the Reverend wouldn’t turn them in should he not want to participate in the scheme. And scheme it was. Barnes had the luxury of having control of the flow of goods and monies from the donations that he could siphon off to support Miller and DeMetrie. They had the makings of a first rate subversive organization.

    But Miller realized the Barnes was putting himself out on a limb too. It would only take one slip up or one curious congregation minister to land Barnes in a camp and Miller and DeMetrie in much hotter water. That’s why Miller was working hard with Barnes to keep security measures in mind.

    Miller turned the wheel of the pickup as he made the turn onto the state highway. He’d be back to the farm in a couple of hours.

    That’s when the police lights and sirens went off. The flashing lights in the rearview mirror startled him. Smoothly and calmly he pulled over to the side of the road, left his hands on the steering wheel and awaited the arrival of the officer.

    “Sir, do you know why I pulled you over?” asked the young officer as he leaned in the window.

    “No sir, can’t say that I do” answered Miller in a calm, easy going tone.

    The officer, still relatively new, was a bit thrown by the calm demeanor. “You failed to signal your turn back there,” he said as he pointed back towards the last stop sign. “Can I see your license and registration please?”

    “Officer, I’d be glad to show you the registration. The truck belongs to my boss. But I don’t have a license right now. I lost it in a house fire a couple weeks ago that killed my wife and…well…. to be honest sir, I just haven’t gotten around to replacing it. My boss sent me down here to pick up a few things for work”. Miller looked the young officer right in the eyes as he calmly lied.

    Again the young officer was thrown a bit although he tried to cover it. “Well sir, can I have your name and your employer’s phone number? I’ll try calling them and if they can verify your story we’ll go from there”.

    “Thank you officer” Miller feigned appreciation for the favor the officer was doing. The officer strutted back to his patrol car not realizing he was doing exactly what Miller had hoped for.

    Within a few minutes the officer came back with the business card Miller had given him. “Here you are sir. Your employer vouched for you. I know things are a little rough but please get your license replaced right away. Have a nice day sir”.

    Again Miller played the role of the appreciative motorist that was given a break, “thank you again sir. I’ll do that right away”.

    As Miller carefully merged back into traffic he made the mental note to get those fake drivers licensees done right away. He wouldn’t get lucky like that again.

    ****

    It was late that afternoon when Werner realized something was wrong with the group of men he had sent out earlier that morning. He had been dealing with some staffing issues and then was stuck on a conference call with Senator Donovan's staff for several hours. After grabbing a quick lunch and another series of phone calls he didn't realize it had gotten as late as it did.

    It was only when one of his men excitedly came in to tell him they couldn't contact them by radio that Werner sprung into action. Within minutes he and several heavily armed contractors were heading down the route the other unit had followed earlier that day. Within an half an hour they were surveying the scene of the ambush.

    One of his men said "Damn" loudly when he found the body of the section leader off to the side of the road. Otherwise they inspected the scene in silence. After a few minutes Werner sprung into action.

    "Ok, stop standing around. Find the point of origin of the explosion. See what you can find" he directed. Pointing at two of the men, "you two police the area. Look for signs of a hide, spent brass, anything. I'll get another team in here to help with the search and take care of the mens bodies". He looked at his men with a sense of loss. Despite being less than savory man, with questionable loyalties, he did honestly like his men. The few he had lost had worn heavily on him.

    After the other men arrived and a full search of the area was undertaken the picture of what took place emerged. A blast to disable the truck, rifle fire from across the bridge and another man stationed off to the side of the road. It didn't take a military genius or student of mystery novels to reach the conclusion of what took place earlier in the day. It was am ambush with the express purpose of killing the contractors.

    Werner turned to one of his men, "Derrick, call back to command. Gather all the section leads for a meeting at 0700". Werner had a problem and he knew it. This wasn't the work of drunken rednecks, or a slashed tire. This was a purposeful assault on the contractors. He wanted to solicit opinions from his squad leaders but he already began formulating a response in his mind.

    ****

    DeMetrie and Miller sat around the table as they finished their small, but hardy dinner. Food was the least of their worries.

    "So it went off without a hitch?" asked Miller.

    DeMetrie dabbed some spilled potatoes off his shirt while responding, "Lowry and Reynolds both said no problems. A couple more contractors than they expected but all were dealt with cleanly."

    "Excellent. I got the supplies we needed from the coast. I'll tinker around with the reloading station tonight and it should be up and running in the morning. Then we can all take turns. We ought to be able to crank out ten or twenty thousand rounds in no time"

    DeMetrie didn't look forward to the mind numbing boredom of making ammunition but in their circumstance it was clearly needed. Fortunately, the boss of the place where they worked during the day had a huge stash of the components needed to make ammunition thanks to her absent husband. He was a reloading hobbyist and the components were going to waste while he had been out of the picture.

    Changing the subject DeMetrie asked, "After today they'll know something up. What's next?". DeMetrie and Miller naturally fell into a leadership frame work in their few months of life on the run. DeMetrie managed all of details of running operations, tactics for specific missions, running the farm and other day to day details. Miller took the lead on big-picture planning, setting up supplies and contacts and gathering intelligence. They had a genuine affection and respect for each other.

    They had talked about a couple of different plans for the next attack but Miller hadn't made a decision yet on which direction they'd take. "Well Captain" he said still referring to DeMetrie's former rank "I think we might be wise to lay low for a couple of days, work during the day like normal and gear up to something a bit more flashy next time".

    DeMetrie smiled. He knew that flashy meant something different to John Miller than it did to most men.

  6. #6
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    Werner awoke early the next morning at 0500. He did his normal morning workout and ate a light breakfast before diving into the mornings dispatches. Soon it was time for the meeting with his section heads.

    “Ok gentleman, by now you’ve gotten the details of my report on our incident yesterday” he started off. Werner had a bit of showmen in him so he had all of his men in a conference room and he walked around the room as he spoke.

    “Thus far in our tenure here in Mayberry” referring to the 1960’s television show Andy Griffith “we’ve had it pretty easy. Some yelling rednecks. Some eggs thrown at the trucks. A couple of slashed tires. All chickenshit stuff really”. The men were forced to crane their necks and follow him as he moved around the room. It was a technique that forced their attention onto him.

    “Yesterday, that all changed” he stopped and spun on one heal to face the men to emphasize his point. “The attack on our men wasn’t the act of some drunken kids or crazed rednecks. That was a coordinated effort by men that knew what they were doing”. He let the last point hang in the air.

    He continued on after a few seconds. “One of the issues Senator Donovan is concerned about is some sort of rebellion against his effort to provide a safe and secure Southern Zone to protect against the mess up North from spilling over down here. There haven’t been any signs of an active resistance as such until now.”

    The section leaders all listened intently to Werner. These were experienced men, not prone to being star struck. Further, Werner was a serious man. He wouldn’t say a resistance was springing up lightly. They all listened on as his speech and room pacing continued.

    “This mission is unlike any other we’ve attempted men. We’ve discussed various aspects of dealing with troublemakers before but haven’t thus far put together a comprehensive plan. I’d like you men to put together your thoughts as a group for my review. We’ll reconvene at lunchtime to discuss and I can give you my thoughts.”

    He sharply turned and walked out of the room to leave the men to their work. It was a performance that would have fit well in a Hollywood movie. He laid it on a bit thick as he wanted his men to realize the seriousness of the situation. If a rebellion started brewing up it would cost them time and money. Worse, if they failed to quash it, there might be a higher price to pay at the hands of Senator Donovan.

    Werner returned to his desk satisfied with his performance. In addition to making a point to his men, he wanted to solicit their input for ideas he may have overlooked. He was an effective leader and listening to his men encouraged good ideas and loyalty.

    As for himself, he needed no outside input to craft a plan. He planned on hunting down the perpetrators of the attack and eradicating them.

    He buzzed the intercom, “Julie, could you please make sure the men in the main conference room have plenty of paper and pens? Go ahead and order lunch too”.

    The cute clerk who had worked at city hall for years replied with a prompt “yes sir” and got to work.

    ****

    For several days after the attack not much changed in the county. Associates, as the locals called contractors, came and went as before. There were some more random identification checks, some more visibility as the associates made their presence known and on occasion associates would pull over folks and search their cars.

    While these minor changes to day-to-day life were being implemented, Werner’s real plans were being polished and getting readied for prime time. He planned major sweeps of employers in the area with full identification checks of all the workers. There would be random door-to-door searches, which had the full force of law thanks to Senator Donovan. Sheriffs deputies would still be involved in the searches, but they worked for Werner now and everybody knew who the real power was.

    The real plans however, were what was going on behind the scenes. Werner had brought in radio detection equipment to sweep the airwaves for unauthorized signals. He’d also made it known to the fledgling organization of secret informers in several counties that there was a large cash reward for information leading to the apprehension of those involved in the attack or any other anti-contractor activities. He was confident that his network of snitches would turn up useful information sooner or later.

    Perhaps most ominous was the squad of men Werner tapped specifically to hunt down suspected anti-contractor forces. They had all worked for Werner for years and were his best and brightest. Whenever he had a particularly difficult mission, they got the first call. Their sole duty in the coming weeks would be to sniff out and snuff any spark of a rebellion.

    The man in charge of this unit was simply called “Caddy” due to his affinity for the American luxury car. He was a short block of a man with a bull chest and massive arms. Sporting a crew cut and usually chomping on a stub of a cigar he seemed to be a throwback to a different time. One might have imagined him at Paris Island in 1945 or the French Foreign Legion.

    Caddy was not a bad or evil man. He was a very effective leader of men who had seen combat in many places and many circumstances. What Caddy was, and what would make him such a problem for any anti-contractor units, was his a tenacious and relentless adversary that simply never stopped. He was the preverbal bull that destroyed the five other businesses on the block in his efforts to ransack the china shop.

    Werner and Caddy reviewed plans and maps of the area for several hours. They worked well together and had a grudging respect for each others skill.

    “Listen Caddy” instructed Werner. “We do have to be careful here. I want to hunt down and exterminate whoever did this, but if we go too overboard and too heavy-handed it may push more people into causing trouble. You go in like jackbooted overlords and the underlying resentment will cause people to push back”

    “I hear you skip” replied Caddy. “I think we can handle this.”

    “Did all of your gear arrive?”

    Caddy was never at a loss regarding the status of gear and the supplies needed to make his men happy and effective. “Last of it showed up last night. I plan on doing some dry runs over the next few days. Give me till after the weekend and we can go live. I want to get a feel for the people and the lay of the land”

    “That’s fine. Unless there’s another attack we don’t have to rush this. That will give us time to hear back from our intelligence resources”.

    A grunt was all Caddy could muster. He didn’t have much use for snitches and spies. He preferred to rely on his own eyes, ears and gut.

    “Ok then, lets drive back out to the ambush site. I want walk it again” said Werner.

    ****

    The weekend came and went with little to no changes visible in Shelton or Lumberton. Contractors went about their jobs, albeit at a slightly higher tempo. Townsfolk went about their lives as best they could given the circumstances.

    DeMetrie and the entire crew reported to their farm jobs as they would any other Monday morning. To both blend in and generate income they took day jobs under the guise of a group of guys looking for work in a bad economy. There were plenty of itinerant farm workers before the war started so for a group of men to show up hat in hand now didn’t stand out of the ordinary.

    None of the men were particularly fond of the work. There was a reason they had gone into the military. Lowry, especially, hated the mundane tasks that needed to be completed day in and day out to keep a farm running.

    “Damn!” he swore as he crushed his thumb while trying to hammer in fence nails. “Captain, this is killing me!” he exclaimed.

    DeMetrie shot him down with a glare. Quietly he said “don’t call me that where people can hear ever again. I’m not fond of this either, but it’s an assignment like any other. You have to put in the time here to accomplish our real mission”.

    Lowry took the rebuke in stride. “Operation Green-Jeans is in full effect gentleman”.

    DeMetrie hid his smile from Lowry.

  7. #7
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    The sun was just rising to its apex as the SUV full of Aperture Consulting employees pulled into ClarMar Farms. The dust cloud kicked up by the large truck slowly rolled in behind it as four large associates got out and began adjusting their shirts to ensure they were crisp and straight. It would have been comical had it not been equally menacing.

    The two men in the backseats both carried automatic rifles while the front passenger seat occupant was clearly the one in charge. He took in the layout of the farm and immediately strode towards the farm house.

    The driveway into ClarMar farms was nearly a mile long before it got to the main compound of buildings. The drive way ended in a circular cul-de-sac of sorts with a couple of small sheds in the center of the turn around. Around the parameter of the cul-de-sac were the main farmhouse, a 10,000 square foot pole barn that served as the farm offices and a host of various buildings. Small pens of animals were attached to nearly every building. To the North side of the compound laid the pasture fields full of grazing cows, while to the south were seemingly endless arrays of greenhouses. The operators of ClarMar farms clearly had their hands into many different business ventures.

    As the lead associate strode the stairs to the farm house he was quickly addressed by an elderly man in a padded chair on the porch.

    “What are you looking for sonny” enquired the older man in a less than friendly tone.

    The associate was polite and oddly respectful. “I’d like to speak with the farm owner or manager sir.”

    The only man merely grunted and pointed towards the pole barn.

    The associate replied with “thank you sir” as he crisply descended the stairs and made his way towards the pole barn. His driver fell in behind him while the other two men, with their rifles at the low ready stood near the truck, ever watchful.

    Before he could cover the distance, a shorter raven-haired woman exited the building and made a beeline for him. Her eyes were an exquisite shade of blue and her dark hair only served to make her eyes stand out more. Her high cheekbones and slightly pudgy cheeks only increased her attractiveness. The figure, honed by years of hard farm work, was muscular yet sensual. In short, she was a beautiful woman.

    As she approach the associate with hand jutted forward there was no mistake that this woman meant business.

    “Clarissa Donner” said the woman as she stared unflinchingly into the eyes of the associate. “Is there something we can do for you” she said as they shook hands.

    “Yes mamn, I’m Rick with Aperture Consulting. We’ve been employed as security consultants in the area”.

    Clarissa replied politely “yes, I’m aware”.

    “In that role, we’ve begun approaching the largest employers in the area with a request to review all of your employees identification documents and have a brief interview with each of them” stated the associate. “We want to make sure everybody is accounted for and nobody with ill intentions, or a deserter from the Army is lurking in our midst”.

    “Rick, I’d be more than happy to assist you” replied Clarissa. “Only problem is most of my employees are out in the fields, we’re expecting a big delivery of supplies any minute and I’m going to be on a conference call with the Southern Agricultural Marketing Alliance early this afternoon”.

    “Mamm, I understand” replied Rick.

    Before he could continue further she pressed on. “This is going to take some time to organize so we don’t disrupt the operations of the farm. Can we schedule a time later in the week so that you can do your jobs quickly and I won’t lose a day’s work from my folks. I’ll set up tables for your men over in the shade and make sure you have power” she said with a board smile. Despite the warm smile it was clear that Rick would be returning later in the week.

    “Ma’mm, that is a great idea. Thursday morning we’ll be back. I appreciate your assistance”. They again shook hands and he smartly turned and returned to the truck.

    Clarissa stood and waved politely as the men loaded up in the SUV and drove off. The dust trail again kicked into the air and followed the vehicle back up the driveway.

    As she climbed the stairs to the farmhouse her father couldn’t resist himself.

    “Who the hell was that?”

    “Some associates. They want to review the ID’s of all the employees” she said. The implications and ramifications were clear.

    “And what the hell is the Southern Agricultural Marketing Alliance? I never heard of them,” Greg declared.

    “Best I could come up with on the spur of the moment Dad”.

    As she walked back down the stairs she knew the meeting later in the week would likely generate more problems than she cared for. She glanced over at one of her employees working on the recalcitrant ATV that wouldn’t start and beamed one of her radiant smiles.

    ****

    “What the hell was that Rick?” asked one of the men in the back seat. “I thought we were tearing the place apart today?”

    Rick turned and delivered his best icy stare. “Judgment call, and last I checked you weren’t the one being paid to make a judgment”.

    The driver, in an effort to break the mood offered up “Did you guys see the black dude working on the ATV? I swear he looks just like Cuba Gooding Junior”

    The men mostly ignored the remark as they drove on to next business on their list.

    ****

    After a long day of going to businesses and giving the same spiel Rick was exhausted. He wanted a hot shower and some grub before relaxing in the temporary barracks in the high school. He knew that wasn’t to be the minute Caddy walked into the ready room.

    “How’d it go Rick?” demanded Caddy.

    “We ticked most of the businesses off the list. Most of the smaller ones really. Nothing was out of place” he replied hoping that the conversation would end, but knowing it wouldn’t.

    “And the larger ones?”

    He took a breath because he figured Caddy wouldn’t like the answer he was about to give. “Well Caddy, most of the larger ones asked that we come back in a couple of days. They wanted time to get all their employees rounded up so they could be run through in an assembly line process. I’ve already scheduled the times with them. Can’t say as though I’d blame them given we are shutting them down while we’re there”. He knew he made a mistake the second he said it.

    Rick was right and Caddy was not pleased. But he was also savvy enough to know that making a scene and forcing their way into places would only serve to ultimately make their task harder.

    “This might play into our hands. Give me a list of the businesses that asked you to come back. We’ll start checking them out beforehand so we have more information to work with. I’ll tag along and if information doesn’t add up or we start getting bad ju-ju off the owners we’ll deal with it” came the response that shocked Rick.

    “Let me type it up for you because I’ve destroyed this list with my chicken scratch notes. I’ll have it for you right away” said the relieved Rick.

    Caddy started heading to the door of the ready room. Rick began to think he’d make it to the showers unscathed. “Sounds great” replied Caddy as he left.

    As Caddy disappeared around the corner Rick breathed a sigh of relief. He began picking his things up so he could make his way back to his bunk to get his laptop so he could get Caddy the requested information. No sense in pressing his luck by sticking around.

    “Oh and Rick” came Caddy’s voice as he popped his head around the corner. “Write me up a full report on the day, and put together some operational plans and suggestions for when we go back to each business later this week”.

    Rick knew it was too good to be true.


    ****
    “I don’t like it at all,” replied an irritated Werner as he tossed Rick’s list of businesses on the desk. “The idea was the element of surprise. Now these people will have time to hide troublemakers and get all their information in order. Hell, we can’t even get a read on their behavior since they’ll have nearly a week to rehearse” he thundered.

    “I agree Werner. However, you said not to go in like jackbooted thugs” replied Caddy. Caddy was never moved by Werner’s occasional outbursts.

    “What the hell was Rick thinking?” he pressed on.

    “I’ll deal with him. In the meantime, I’m going to make some house calls to these businesses that asked us to come back later. Call it recon. Why don’t you work the phones with this network of snitches of yours and see what it can dredge up on these companies” Caddy had no use for spies and snitches but recognized that once in a while they could be useful. “Who knows, they might turn up some intel we can use against them”.

    Werner, who had already started to calm down agreed. “You’re right. Make it happen. I’m sending some men out to the eastern part of the county tomorrow to make some calls. You want to tag along with them?”

    “We’ll see” said Caddy. “I’ve got a special morning drill planned for the response team”.

    “Play it by ear. Let me know by 0800”

    Werner poured himself a glass of Jack Daniels whisky sank into the couch that had become his nightly resting spot. The noise of the office work outside his room had died away and City Hall had become quiet. He liked this time of the evening so he could think clearly and prepare for the following day.

    His instincts told him that something was brewing. And if there were some fledgling resistance group getting organized he needed to crush it sooner rather than later.

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    Evening had set in across the northern United States. The moonlight illuminated the countryside but the cold evening air prevented any romantic strolls in the woods. Instead what was strolling through the woods was a detachment of Abrams tanks and Bradley fighting vehicles.

    One of Crutchfield’s younger commanders and put together a plan that was bold enough that it captured the rebellious ex-president’s imagination. Within several weeks they had worked out the details and had troops moved into position. It was a near record time, and likely too short for a proper campaign, but Crutchfield sensed an opportunity.

    His young commander would lead essentially a division of armored and mechanized troops on a pseudo-blitzkrieg attack that would thrust towards Franklin, Pennsylvania from the Jamestown, New York area. If they were able to capture the city it would lay bare the roads to Pittsburgh and Cleveland, Ohio. President Alan would again have to split troops, and reduce his overall strength. Further troops had been marshaled in the area to exploit the advantage should the attack be successful.

    The plan was not without risk, however. If the President suddenly grew a backbone and counter attacked from both the Cleveland and Pittsburgh areas at once, he could decimate the attack and Crutchfield would lose critical numbers of troops.

    Crutchfield was relying on surprise, however. Thus far most of the fighting had been around the eastern end of Pennsylvania so little attention was paid to the western end of the state. President Alan, and his staff were far too worried about strengthening the “containment zone” and the Washington DC area and didn’t move to attack the exposed end of New York State. The military commanders had begged to make the attack but the political advisors overruled them. It wouldn’t be the last time in history that politicians interfered with military men doing their jobs.

    The other mistake President Alan’s staff made was focusing too much on the importance of Washington DC. They invested most of their airpower there. While capturing the capital would have been a huge political victory, Crutchfield was more interested on capturing real estate in the Midwest. Doing so would add resources to his war machine and he could recruit new troops from the area. It would also signal to foreign concerns that his movement was legitimate. Big, conventional battles in the east risked big defeats and a loss of trust by his backers.

    As the enterprising young commander steered the lead elements of the attack into position they quickly realized they were going to cover vast tracts of land with little to no resistance. There were several firefights and a couple of tanks destroyed but mostly they advanced unmolested.

    By dawn his troops had all but encircled the city of Franklin. The few troops available put up a valiant and intense fight to slow the attack. M-47 Dragon and TOW missiles took their tool on Crutchfield’s armor but they had numbers on their side. Several aircraft were able to join the fray in time to aid the defenders, further sapping the strength of the armored units.

    Crutchfield and his military council were wily enough to avoid getting sucked into protracted sieges or slugfests. By early morning the smoldering wreckage of US Army Humvees and mangled bodies of her troops indicated that Crutchfield’s forces had prevailed at Franklin.

    His gambit had paid off and they had both momentum and surprise to aid their advance. Following his military commanders advice he had the armored thrust pivot westward and begin moving towards the Cleveland, Ohio area. Reinforcements poured into the new territories and raced to link up with the advance elements.

    They had no intention of trying to capture Cleveland through force but he wanted to threaten the city and avoid opening a salient if he continued on towards Pittsburgh. Also, capturing further ports in Erie, Pennsylvania and the North Eastern corner of Ohio would give him more options for Great Lakes freight and troop transports.

    The Presidents hand had been forced. He had to act or the door to the heart of one of his containment zones would be wide open.

    ****

    Before the defenders of Franklin had fought their valiant, if futile, battle against Crutchfield’s forces, Miller and DeMetrie discussed the news they heard regarding the contractors plans.

    “Either way you slice it, it isn’t good for us John” said DeMetrie. “Until we get better fake licenses we’re never going to withstand a through investigation. If we bug out now we loose all the resources we’ve accumulated over the past six months”.

    “We’re not going anywhere. The inspections go live in four days?” inquired Miller. DeMetrie nodded in the affirmative.

    “Another four day window of time before all hell breaks loose?” Miller thought to himself. The last time he was given a four-day window of time he had been on the run awaiting a plane ride out of the area.

    Miller thought for a while downing the dinner of pork chops and black-eyed peas before saying, “don’t worry about the id’s. I’ve got something worked out for that. Let’s focus on our next party with the contractors”.

    DeMetrie agreed. They kicked around ideas for the better part of an hour but nothing seemed to fit. They finally agreed that they would continue smaller, more harassing attacks. There would be a time for a big event but it was too soon in their timetable for that.

    “But keep the attacks flashy” instructed Miller. “Show people that the contractors are not invincible”.

    Once they agreed on a continued plan of harassment everything else fell into place. A source of information had delivered once again and they’d have their chance to make Miller’s statement soon enough.

    As they broke up for the night DeMetrie commented, “yea, that ought to be considered flashy by most folks”.

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    Rick was exhausted. He had been up most of the night preparing his reports and putting together operational plans for the inspections later in the week. Thanks to Caddy’s homework assignment he ultimately he ended up getting a couple hours of sleep before it was time to start his day.

    He and his men were heading out to the eastern part of the county to begin the identification sweeps in the more outlying areas. There were smaller numbers of businesses so it would entail a lot of driving in addition to giving out the same spiel and performing the mundane checks.

    It was actually a new assignment for him handed down at the last minute by Caddy. A different team was originally supposed to perform them. Rick suspected that the last minute change was one more piece of Caddy’s punishment for screwing up the ID checks the previous day.

    After a rigorous workout he felt better and ready to take on the day. He took a light breakfast and sat down with his team to review their plans for the day. Fortunately, the previous team leader had worked those out in advance. By mid morning they were on their way to their first stop.

    Surprisingly, his men were in a jovial mood. While he was an excellent soldier he was proving to be a poor leader of men. Many days the tension in the air was palatable. Werner was close to removing him so Rick knew he was on the bubble, but today was different. They seemed to be enjoying each other’s company and working as a team.

    “Maybe they were starting to jell as a team after all”, he thought.

    As the day wore on the men became tired of the dull assignment but the pushed through and by late in the afternoon they had completed the entire list of businesses. Rick was pleased and thought it might help to get him out of Werner’s doghouse.

    Soon they were pulling back into the outskirts of Shelton. A couple houses sat back from the road and a lone small business stood tucked up to one side of the road. The driver, who actually liked Rick, prepared to turn the big SUV at a t-intersection. Before pulling out he stopped to check for cross traffic. “Hey guys, did you hear the….”

    He never got to finish the sentence. Multiple rifle rounds crashed through the laminated safety glass. Bullets do strange things as they penetrate automobile glass. Sometimes the rounds glance off as if it were armored plate; sometimes the rounds penetrate the glass but careen off course, often at very odd angles. Occasionally the rounds will continue on to their intended target.

    In this case, the driver was unlucky that the shooter understood the effects of automobile glass on ballistics and fired off many shots to ensure some would disable the driver.

    On cue the remaining three men bailed out of the vehicle. Rick smartly posted his door by using his foot to push the heavy door open and then brace it to prevent it from bouncing back in his face. He tried to scan the horizon as he fell to the ground and prepared to find cover towards the rear of the vehicle.

    He scrabbled backwards as more shots impacted the now driverless vehicle. Miraculously, Rick had yanked up the emergency break lever before bailing out. Soon it didn’t matter, however, as round after round slowly began to tear apart the engine compartment.

    As all three men cowered behind the stricken SUV Rick’s mind began to race. They had to come up with a plan soon or else they’d eventually be eaten alive. Whoever was shooting was using a suppressed rifle so they didn’t have any indications where the rounds were coming from other than from generally in front of the SUV.

    It quickly became obvious that their only cover better than their current position was the small ditch just to their right. Rick instructed the other men to make a break for it while he provided some sort of cover. He wasn’t even really sure where to shoot but his concern for launching bullets at random evaporated when the rear window of the SUV exploded and showered him with glass.

    “Go now!” he yelled as his two men dashed for the ditch. He fired off some wild shots from his pistol and hoped it would be enough to keep the snipers head down for a while. His men had disappeared so he counted to three and then made the same five-yard dash to the relative safety of the ditch.

    As he tumbled over the side it was obvious the ditch was deeper than it appeared. He quickly looked around only to see his two men lying motionless on the ground. Adrenaline combined with confusion overtook him before he felt a sudden jab in the back of his upper thigh and a burning sensation begin to creep over him.

    His entire world went black.

    ****

    Werner got the call within an hour of the attack. Some passersby on a jog saw the disabled truck and called the emergency 911 number.

    Within minutes he and Caddy, along with a contingent of their men arrived on scene. Werner had barely gotten out of his truck when one of his men flagged them over to the small ice cream stand on the side of the road.

    “Found them right here Mr Werner” said the associate.

    Werner was stunned. Caddy, on the other hand, tried to suppress laughter. The three men were all stripped to their boxer shorts and trussed up like Thanksgiving turkeys. Someone had scrawled a letter on each mans chest in heavy black paint. All together they spelled LOL.

    Some of the men began to untie the two men that were out cold. Rick was just starting to come out of his animal tranquilizer induced slumber. Nobody lifted a finger to assist him.

    “Rick, what the hell happened? Your driver is dead and you…well…you’re a mess” declared the exasperated Werner. "And what the hell is LOL?"

    One of the men offered up "its internet slang sir. It means Laugh Out Loud".

    Caddy continued to laugh in the background.

    ****


    Even the normally reserved DeMetrie couldn’t contain his laughter as Lowry described the inspired comic touch after they trussed up the unconscious contractors.

    “Hey man, I saw the big paint marker and it just happened. Sometimes comedy gold just happens,” he said chuckling at his own comic brilliance.

    Sam couldn’t help it either. “Tell you what Cap, I’ve never laughed so hard on a mission before. One minute you’re punching holes in a truck, the next this clown is giggling and writing letters on their chest”.

    Still cackling at himself, “hey, it’s a gift. Besides, the dude with the teddy bear boxers deserved it”.

    “Ok boys” interjected DeMetrie. “Fun time is over, stow your gear and then we need to talk about the next one. These guys aren’t going to take Mr. Funny Guys stuff sitting down”.

    Sam and Lowry were still reliving the ambush as they took their gear down to one of the storage rooms. They didn’t want AR15 rifles, ammunition and chest rigs lying all over the place in the event an unintended visitor showed up. Between plastic storage totes that were buried under food stores and hollowed out areas of the floor, the gear disappeared. The hideouts wouldn’t survive a complete search, but to a casual glance the buildings appeared to be living quarters.

    “Where’s Miller” asked Lowry as they returned to the eating area.

    DeMetrie answered without looking up, “He had to go make a call”. Lowry and Reynolds both knew enough to not ask. Miller kept his business to himself to protect the rest of the team. It also served to protect the rest of his contacts in the event DeMetrie, Lowry or Reynolds got nabbed.

    “Now, lets talk about the next event in our little traveling tradeshow of fun” instructed DeMetrie. As they ate the rest of their dinner they kicked around the plans for their next raid on the contractors in the dim light of their eating area.

  10. #10
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    It was the next morning when Miller made his way to the small building near the coast. His trip had taken him several hours as he carefully made his way from Lumberton down to the coast area. He wanted to avoid another interaction with law enforcement so his route took him on the less traveled path.

    He was cursing himself for not having the fake ID’s done sooner and now his team was in a pinch because of it. Miller was the sort of man who’d ignore all the good things and focus on the one bad that caused pain for his friends.

    “Well hello brother Miller” called out Barnes as Miller quietly slipped into the warehouse portion of the building.

    “Good morning Reverend Barnes” Miller responded. Miller could tell by the way Barnes had called out his name that someone else must be present. He played along and followed Barnes’s lead.

    As Barnes leaned forward to shake Miller’s hand it was clear that his gut feeling was correct. “Brother Miller, have you met Cecil Davenport of the Gulf Coast Charitable Brethren Association,” said Barnes as he swept his hand off to his side to introduce the slender middle-aged man.

    “Pleasure to meet you” said Miller as he extended his hand.

    “Likewise” responded Cecil as he looked Miller over head to toe. “And I thought I knew all the other members of the charitable organizations in the Gulf Coast. Who are you with?”

    Miller calmly replied, looking Cecil dead in the eyes and hoping Barnes hadn’t already crafted a different story. “Well sir, I am with the Central Alabama Church of Christ Congress out of Montgomery”. Miller avoided all the tell tale signs of a lie like averting your eyes or hesitating before you answer.

    Barnes quickly stepped in to cut Cecil off. “Brother Cecil is part of the largest charitable organization on the coast” Barnes hoped the flattery would cut off further interrogation. “You’d be amazed at all the good works they do”.

    “GCCBA does many outreach activities Mr. Miller”. Barnes had been wise to play to Cecil’s ego as the older man proceeded to bore Miller and Barnes to tears with a ten-minute recitation of his organizations good works.

    “Well” Cecil finally offered up. “I best be going. Nice to meet you Mr. Miller”.

    “Drive safely and see you next week” said Barnes.

    Miller saw how he missed the car on his way into the building; Cecil had parked several blocks down in front of some other businesses. As the older man got in his station-wagon and slowly drove off Miller turned to Barnes, “That’s the second time he’s been here when I was. I dodged him the first time and this time he just happened to park way down the street?”

    “I’ve known Cecil for years John. I can’t imagine its anything other than a coincidence” demurred the clearly embarrassed reverend. He had been working on his spy-craft but it was obvious he was still an amateur.

    “There’s no such thing. You haven’t told anybody about our meetings?” probed Miller.

    “No John. The two members who are helping us know of you, but not your name, description or that we meet here” replied Barnes as he motioned Miller to sit down.

    “Don’t discuss it on the telephone?” pressed Miller.

    ”John, I’m telling you, the only person who even knows I’m here is the church secretary” fired back Barnes, getting a little defensive.

    Miller frowned but knew he was pressing his friend too hard. Barnes was exposing himself to a great deal of danger to help Miller and he didn’t want to rattle him. “Lets not worry about that now” he said. “Whether its coincidence or not, don’t worry about it.”

    “I don’t want to get you guys caught…..” Barnes trailed off a bit dejected.

    Miller smiled, “don’t worry Tim. We’ll get that part figured out. Now, you said you had a solution for the fake id’s?” he asked, changing the subject.

    Barnes smiled back, “it would seem one of our Deacons has been ministering to some gentleman who were recently guests of the state. Turns out they know a good deal about underhanded things”.

    “Your man took a hell of a risk going to a convict for this” declared Miller.

    Barnes took the comment in stride. “In a past life this Deacon wasn’t as pure as the wind driven snow himself. Our friend, the rehabilitated criminal, thinks he’s participating in some sort of casino scam”.

    “Sounds great” Miller said as he stood up. “What do we need to do?”

    “You’ve got the digital pictures?” Barnes asked as Miller nodded in the affirmative as he felt the thumb-drive in his pocket to make sure he hadn’t forgotten them.

    “Then lets go get some lunch. I know a great place right on the beach, with the best oyster sandwich you’ll ever have. After that you can come back here and help me reorganize some things for an hour or two. By the time you leave you’ll have a whole new start on life” said Barnes, proud of the system he had devised for the handoff of information.

    “Actually” replied Miller. “I am hungry now that you mention it Reverend Barnes”.

    The two men locked up the building and began walking down the street. It was only a few blocks and would conserve fuel in the car. While being in public was a risk, Miller did the mental calculation that risk was outweighed by the ability to discuss information without fear of overhearing ears. He was no longer certain Barnes’s car wouldn’t have listening ears in it.

    Despite having casually swept the street as he exited the building, neither Miller nor Barnes noticed the middle aged man several blocks down the street. He was changing a tire on a station wagon and both the car and man were partially obscured from view.

    Cecil made a note to report in about the strange man claming to be from Montgomery as he finished changing his tire.

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