Patriots & Tyrants

by Brian Cotton

  ***

  “It’s unfortunate that this had to happen,” Sanders said, looking down at his large computer monitor. “But, at least this has shocked others into action.”

  “Yeah,” Harvey replied.

  Ever since the government controlled news agencies reported of the resistance members who were killed, several of the rebel leaders around the country who initially said no were changing their minds. This latest development almost hurt Harvey on the inside watching what was happening. Did it always take something terrible happening to move good men to do the right thing? That was the question that haunted him and he didn’t have an answer for it. He certainly didn’t share Sanders’s apparent enthusiasm for the events that unfolded.

  Harvey was learning more and more things about Sanders as time went by. For himself, Harvey was never a believer in the old phrase that the ends justified the means. He always saw that quote as pure bull. His partner, however, he seemed relish in it. Every time the USR made a move on the innocents, he got excited. It seemed to give the old war veteran a sense of justification for fighting back. The fact that the USR destroyed the foundations of America was enough justification for Harvey.

  “You’re doing it again.” Sanders commented.

  “What?” Harvey demanded.

  “You’re getting all blue on me.”

  “I don’t share your enthusiasm. We lost good men. The innocent civilians out there are going to be the ones who suffer.”

  “Look at the bright side, though. We’ve got some more help for this thing. We might not have gotten this kind of help without it.”

  “I understand that, but we shouldn’t celebrate it like it’s a victory.”

  “I don’t see it as a victory, you hear me?” Sanders’s face turned red to match the red scar on his head. “This is a tragedy, no doubt about that. Yes, the innocents will suffer, but if this is what it takes to shake our allies into action then so be it.”

  “All right,” Harvey said. “Let’s just move on with our strategy.”

  “Agreed.”

  The two military minds sat down in front of one of the laptops and discussed their views how their plan could be a success. They also discussed the help that would be coming in. Overall, the estimated total of rebels would be somewhere above one hundred. It was lower than Sanders would have liked, but Harvey felt that they could work with that. That number was certainly better than what they had before the events of last night. A fact that Sanders liked to throw out there every now and then, after they said that they would move on, and to agree to disagree.

  “We’ll be meeting up with several of them tomorrow night,” Sanders went on. “I’ve talked with a few squads based in the Midwest today. They’ll be ready to meet here.”

  Sanders pointed on his screen to a glowing dot on the map. Harvey nodded in agreement.

  “Sounds good,” Harvey replied.

  “The others on the east coast, obviously, will be headed straight for the Capitol.”

  “What about those on the west coast?”

  “Afraid that we don’t have that much support past the Midwest. Those on the West are focused on their own battles. It would cost them too much to move across the country. We’ll have to do without them. But, they are planning on getting together to plan their own Op in the near future. They are concerned about this threat, too.”

  “What do you think our chances are?” Harvey asked.

  It took Sanders a moment to answer that question. Harvey could see the wheels turning inside of the old man’s head. The movements of his eyes gave that away. He started to rub at his chin and the wheels seemed to turn faster. For Harvey’s part, he thought that their chances were moderate, but not enough for him to feel comfortable about a full on victory.

  “I think we can do this,” Sanders replied. “We’ve got good men fighting for us. It’s going to be a tough one, but I like our chances.”

  Harvey wished he was as confident.

   

   

  .48

  Masters stood outside the door of a nice, red brick townhouse in the suburbs. The morning sun had risen and was almost to the top of the sky. This was different, he thought as he watched the two combat jeeps move up and down the street, complete with a soldier on each manning the .50’s on top. Usually, they were in the inner city, cleaning up the trash that infested there. Now, they were called to the places where the more upper echelon of the population lived. To him, he didn’t care, he was anxious to do his duty.

  The soldiers under his command seemed ready, too. His number one was banging on the door next him while Masters waited, his G36 in both hands. The soldier was on his third round of the bangs when he turned to Masters and shook his head. Masters was about ready to call for the breach when the door finally opened. The instant it did, his men moved in so fast that the woman who opened it was knocked to ground.

  Masters moved in last as his men went to work. There wasn’t even a thought to helping the woman, who was in her mid-thirties, up to her feet. She seemed well enough to do it herself. The woman had that same scared look on her face that the decorated USR soldier had grown accustomed to. As she rose to her feet, she wiped away the blood which leaked from her lips. The bitch must’ve bit her bottom lip on the way down. Masters also noticed that she was too scared to scream. She just kept staring, the fear was in her eyes, so that at least gave him some satisfaction.

  Over to his left, Masters caught sight of a little boy. The boy stood there, coming up to Masters’s knees, and looked upward. There was no emotion on the boy’s face. He was holding a teddy bear close to his chest. After a moment, Masters allowed a grin to creep along his lips. The boy, too young to know what was going on, smiled back up. Masters reached down and rubbed at the boy’s hair. After that, he looked back over to the woman, who managed to get back to her feet. Tears ran down her face now.

  A loud commotion that came from upstairs broke the silence. By the sounds of a man shouting out curses, Masters assumed that his men found the mark they were looking for. The woman cried “no” as the man, with a soldier on each side, dragged him from the stairs and through the living room. Masters shouldered his G36 and pointed it at the woman. She assumed the position, getting down to her knees, and putting her hands behind her lowered head.

  “This is a fucking sham!” the man yelled as he was dragged out the front door. “Honey, I will get home soon!”

  “I love you!” the woman cried.

  Masters moved over to the woman. With her head lowered, she could see his military boots. At the sight of them, she raised her head and once again made eye contact with him. Masters raised his left hand and then backhanded the woman across her cheek. Her mouth stayed wide open in shock.

  “I didn’t give you permission to speak,” Masters said. “You take care of your boy, now.”

  When the Lieutenant walked out, he slammed the door shut behind him. With his G36 now across his chest, he made his way to the armored van which would transport their prisoners to their destination. Masters didn’t know all the details, but like a good soldier, he carried out his orders. It didn’t make a lick of sense to him to take citizens who actually made some sort of contribution to society away, but orders were orders. So long as he got some killing in, or at least got to rough up a few of them, that was all he cared about.

  The soldiers who dragged the man opened the back doors and threw him inside. There were already seven men crammed on the inside. The back doors slammed shut leaving the men, scared out of their own minds, alone in the darkness to think about what would come next. There would be no way for them to even guess. They were already in pure shock to be taken from their homes without notice.

  Masters watched the van take off as he reached for his walkie. He punched in the correct codes and got patched in with Blackman.

  “Sector eight a success,” Masters said into the black device. “Moving on to Sector nine.”

  “Good
job, Masters.” Blackman replied. “Any problems?”

  Masters rubbed at his forehead with his free forearm. “None to report. This mission is for panty waists. Don’t you think that with my expertise I could be doing something more vital?”

  “This mission is vital, Lieutenant.”

  “How vital?”

  There was a pause. “You know I can’t tell you that. It’s of the utmost secrecy. Just know that you are serving the USR with this mission.”

  “Understood,” Masters said with a sigh. “We’re moving out to the next Sector.”