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

by L. Douglas Hogan

  “We will join you under certain conditions,” Nathan said.

  “And what would those be?” Buchanan responded. Jessica was also curious to find out.

  “Our whole community joins with you, not just the fighters, but all of us. Most of those people have never served and some have never touched a gun. We have resources as well, but I won’t share any of them unless we come to an agreement here.”

  Buchanan thought for a minute. “I need warriors, and I haven’t given much thought to taking anything less.”

  “Okay,” Jess butted in. “Nathan, you’re speaking for many people here, one of which is me, so please allow me some input.”

  Nathan used both hands to motion her to continue.

  “You two speak of joining, but what does that mean? Where will our home be? Will we be supervised, ordered around, dictated to, made to live outside of camp so the warriors can have the best beds? What does join mean?”

  Jess wanted the details and the negotiations weren’t that far along yet, but both Nathan and Buchanan understood her plight.

  It was Buchanan that spoke first.

  “For starters, I suggest we control everything along the river and secure all possible food and water supplies. Your civilians remain civilians with the same liberties our Constitution gives them. We, along with your warriors, will be the military might that ensures those liberties.”

  Nathan liked the idea, but hastened to ask, “And what of leadership? Who controls the military and keeps it from turning tyrannical?”

  “That’s a good question, but to be honest, I’ve had my fill of politicians.”

  Then Jess spoke back up, now feeling that she was a part of the conversation. “Then might I add that we obtain a copy of the US Constitution and amend it to insure things like executive orders and term limits be set to safeguard us?”

  “I like that,” Nathan said, pointing to Jess and sitting back into the couch.

  Buchanan’s thoughts went to the bigger picture of securing the United States. “Of course, you do understand that we cannot ratify the Constitution without delegates from every state? I suggest we design a constitution as she has described and get the rest of Illinois on board with it. From there we take baby steps, as one of my Marines once said.”

  Nathan stood up. “I like that, sir. I like it a lot.”

  Nathan extended his hand and Buchanan stood up to shake it.

  Jess followed by standing up and shaking Buchanan’s hand.

  “I guess history is repeating itself,” Nathan said.

  “Well, what shall we call it?” Jess asked.

  “Since we’re repeating history, let’s call it the Confederate Alliance,” Buchanan said. “We can work in councils and come to agreements in that fashion until we’re large enough to reestablish America as a functioning nation. But right now, our focus should be shifted to taking our borders back.”

  “I agree, sir. Texas was falling as the Flip came. I wonder how it ended.”

  “It ended, son. I’ve been picking up radio chatter from UN forces. It’s been getting relayed back to me, and last I heard, the Mexicans took over Texas. It wasn’t hard. They were populating it so heavily with illegal immigration that their population became too great to manage. After that, it was a matter of grabbing it.”

  “Sir, we’re going back to Murphy soon. I’m going to gather more intel on them. If I gather enough and it’s feasible to do so, would you join me and my men on an assault of the Southside raiders?”

  “Southside Raiders?” Buchanan asked.

  “We believe that’s what they call themselves. They appear to be a raiding group that infiltrates predetermined areas and invades. We’ve been close to their operations, but never inside.”

  “I’ve been inside,” Jess interrupted. “I was the one that was kidnapped. I killed my captor and escaped.”

  “I’m glad you survived,” Buchanan said. “Proves you’re a fighter.”

  Buchanan opened the door and looked at his Marines that were standing outside.

  “Give me a radio,” he barked at them. One of the Marines removed the radio from his pack and handed it to Buchanan.

  Buchanan turned and handed the radio to Nathan. “If you get in a pickle and need support or evac, give us a call. Be frugal with the battery. Once it’s gone, I can’t guarantee a replacement.”

  “We’ll turn it on only when we need to,” Nathan said. “Thank you.” Nathan extended his hand again and Buchanan shook it.

  “Now duty calls,” Buchanan said.

  Buchanan stepped outside and rejoined his Marines. “Rally on me,” Buchanan shouted to them as he walked off.

  Nathan and Jess watched as Buchanan and his men got in his HMMWV and headed out of town.

  Nathan looked at Jess.

  “What?” she said.

  “Let’s go wake up Denny and tell him what’s going on.”

  The District

  President Adalyn Baker hung up the phone. She had just received word that her czar of Region Five had been attacked by a group of resistance fighters that had penetrated the Illinois Capital District.

  The untimely death of Czar Jennings meant that General Abdul Muhaimin, commander of the UN forces in America, was now the czar of Region Five and one step closer to national domination.

  The president was nothing more than a puppet for the purpose of a global image of diplomacy. UN diplomacy wasn’t the true objective; it was just a ruse to blind the global community from the atrocities that were necessary to enact Agenda 21.

  In reality, President Adalyn Baker was a prisoner of her own making. She invoked unconstitutional actions, such as executive orders, to enforce her will upon the people. She seized all food and water supplies from the populations. She seized all electricity, communication, and transportation from the populace. All along, she was throwing billions into FEMA compounds, expecting the worst-case scenario. When America thought she could do no worse, she invited the UN to access the United States.

  Baker became the sole authority when she invoked Executive Order 13010, which gave government control over all agencies to FEMA. FEMA, by executive order, was answerable only to the executive branch of government, being herself.

  She sat alone in the Oval Office at the White House her Chiefs of Staff assassinated and armed guards outside her door. She couldn’t help feeling sorry for herself. The thoughts of the loss of thousands of American lives mattered very little to President Baker. She was consumed with her own grief and loss of power. America was gone, and with it, her ambition to be an international superstar.

  As if on cue, the door to the Oval Office cracked open. Adalyn looked toward the door and saw an envelope and a small pistol being scooted into the room. She walked over to them and picked up the envelope.

  She opened the envelope and read the letter. She began to cry. Her eyes swelled with tears and her cheeks and ears flushed. Her nose ran uncontrollably as she dropped the envelope and picked up the gun.

  She didn’t know too much about guns, but knew where the safety switch and trigger were located. It was a small .22 with a design of a phoenix with an R in the center of it. Adalyn didn’t know that she was looking at a Ruger pocket-sized .22 revolver. She only knew it was a revolver with a single bullet in the cylinder.

  She held tightly to the letter and took a long look at the pistol as she sat on a chair in front of the Resolute Desk. She stood up and walked over to the window behind the desk. What she saw was UN soldier formations and vehicles parked on the White House lawn.

  Still crying uncontrollably, she looked back down at the gun one last time then put it to the side of her head. The first time she pulled the trigger, she flinched and it just clicked. The second time she pulled the trigger, she flinched a little less, but it too, was a click.

  Adalyn Baker walked over to the Resolute Desk and sat down in the chair behind the desk. She sat the letter on the desk, face up, and gave one last attempt at putting the gun to her head.


  The crackle of a .22 went off inside the Oval Office and Adalyn Baker fell forward onto the letter that sat on the desk.

  The letter, now stained in blood, read:

  “Dear Madam President, we regret to inform you that your husband, son, and daughter contracted an unknown viral strand. They were relocated and isolated, but they did not survive. Our deepest condolences, FEMA”

  CHAPTER XXIV

  Somewhere west of Opal, Virginia

  John, Belt, Joshwa, Zamora, Aaron, Gideon, and Michael had awoken early in the morning and hit the road just before first light. It was still to be determined which was safer, driving during the day or driving during the night. John felt better knowing the bus had quite a bit of gasoline strapped to its interior. He used to think preppers were paranoid, but now, as it turned out, it seemed wise to have done so.

  The prepper bus they were in was camouflaged, obviously not professionally done. The armor was impressive, though. It was made of quarter-inch steel panels, which were bolted and spot-welded into place. Inside were a gun rack and ammo cans. All of it was fastened to the floor in the rear of the bus, over against the side of the emergency exit door.

  When the preppers were discussing the design of the bus, originally they were going to weld the emergency exit shut. They didn’t like the idea of a possible enemy attack with two points of entry on the bus. They opted out of the idea of closing it off for the same reason: they would have a secondary exit in the event of an attack.

  The bus’s windows had three-inch vertical and horizontal crosses cut into them for the ability to point, aim, and shoot from the inside out. The only glass window in the bus was the windshield, which cost them a small fortune to replace with bulletproof glass. It was tinted and impossible to see inside after sunset.

  Virtually everybody on the bus felt safe that they wouldn’t catch a bullet, but they also felt trapped. To John, it was reminiscent of being stuck in an ACV, amphibious combat vehicle. To Belt, it was like being in a SSN, nuclear-class submarine. Either way, it was buttoned up tight and offered little in the way of rapid deployment.

  John constantly feared the possibility of being ambushed. With these untrained civilians, they may not exit in the same direction if by chance they had to use both exits simultaneously.

  John had the idea of pulling over and running some deployment drills, but just as the thought came to mind, Michael yelled out, “There’s a roadblock up ahead.”

  Everybody stood up and ran for the front of the bus to get the first visual of the new complication.

  “Sit back down,” John yelled at them. “You guys are a danger to yourselves, running up like that.”

  Michael brought the bus to a stop.

  “Binos?” John said.

  “Back in the utility cabinet, top right.”

  John walked to the back and opened the cabinet door. He saw several items hanging from a Peg-Board with the items’ outlines traced onto the board.

  “A shadow board?” John asked himself. He saw a compass, binos, medical kit, 550 paracord, e-tool, crank radio, chem lights, and many more items.

  John grabbed the binoculars and looked forward. He could see at least three men moving around in street clothes behind a roadblock made up of logs. The bus would never be able to blow through it without sustaining damage.

  The men had rifles and they were pointing them in the direction of the bus. It was obviously a standoff, with both parties refusing to budge from a place of security. Sitting still made John and Belt nervous, but they had already been spotted and there wasn’t much left to do but make a hasty retreat.

  “They don’t seem to be moving,” John said. “But that could be because they’re waiting for reinforcements to arrive. Who knows, they might have heard the bus coming a mile away. I would have. This thing sounds like a jet engine.”

  “When we built it, we were thinking about catching bullets while retreating, not stealth,” Michael said.

  “Well, who wants to go out there and see if they’re friendly?” Belt asked.

  Nobody volunteered.

  John surveyed the environment. They were on a bend in the road, which was surrounded by forest and heavy vegetation. There must be a community they’re protecting around the bend, he thought.

  “Okay, here’s my plan…” John said. “Every one of us files out the back door with a rifle. We hit the forest in two teams. Team one goes north and team two goes south. Both teams head west through the woods until we can flank the men at the roadblock.”

  “I like it,” Aaron said as he looked at his brother, Gideon.

  “Me too,” Gideon said.

  John and Belt looked at the others and waited for a response.

  “I’m down,” Michael said.

  They turned their attention to Joshwa and Zamora.

  “I don’t shoot,” Joshwa said, pulling his wife in closer.

  “Then you stay here and guard the bus,” John said, handing them rifles. “If anybody comes through those doors, you pull that trigger,” John said, pointing towards the trigger and trigger guard.

  “Michael and I will go south,” John said, pointing to himself and Michael, and then he pointed at Belt, Aaron, and Gideon, saying, “Belt will lead you two north. Got it?”

  Everybody nodded and grabbed their rifles, making sure rounds were chambered. Belt was closest to the back door, so he opened the exit and the two teams deployed from the bus and into the woods.

  Shots were being fired from the roadblock, but none of them made their mark.

  The vegetation was heavy and cumbersome to move through. Everybody was thinking the same thing: “By the time we get there, they’ll be reinforced or gone.”

  The teams were trying to move both quickly and quietly, but the terrain offered them little for either possibility.

  Belt’s team arrived first to find four men hunkered down in kneeling positions behind the makeshift roadblock of logs.

  The element of surprise was not with them, thanks to the loud bus that had alerted the armed strangers.

  Without waiting for John and Michael to be in place, Aaron and Gideon jumped out of the woods and ran up on the strangers, yelling, “Drop your guns or we’ll shoot.”

  “There goes any hope of negotiations,” Belt said under his breath.

  John and Michael heard the yelling and knew that they had run out prematurely, headlong into trouble. They hastened their speed and came out on the other side of the roadblock to see four men pointing rifles at Aaron and Gideon. Belt had not exited the forest yet. John knew that Belt had remained concealed and had not yet revealed his presence.

  We may still yet have an element of surprise , John thought.

  “Put your rifles down! You’re outnumbered,” one of the strangers told Aaron and Gideon.

  “Uh hum,” John coughed from behind, revealing himself to the four strangers.

  “So what! We’re even!” the other stranger said.

  “Says who?” Belt said, stepping out of the woods.

  Now seeing that they were outnumbered and outgunned, the men lowered their weapons and leaned them against the wall of clumsily stacked logs.

  “Why are you here?” one of the strangers asked.

  “We’re just passing through, and it seems you have taken it as your duty in life to hamper our progress,” John said.

  “We’re protecting our homes,” one of them said.

  “Shut up, dude, you talk too much,” the other one said.

  John could tell they were not schooled in social etiquette. All four men were wearing flannel shirts and holey jeans.

  “We’re not interested in your homes; we just want to pass through,” Belt said.

  “Even if you do get through here, you won’t get through the next town,” one of them said.

  “Why not?” Gideon probed.

  “Because they steal, kill, and destroy. That’s why we have these barriers up. So they don’t come through.”

  “How many of you are there?�
� John asked.

  “About two hundred and dwindling,” one answered.

  “We have farms that we have to protect.”

  “Dude, I said shut up!”

  “Come here, son,” John said, motioning to the man that was revealing so much. John figured if he was going to get any information from them, it would have to be by getting this one alone. He liked to talk and didn’t seem to have an option for discretion.

  John took him a bit up the road and probed him for answers. He learned that the town used to be a town of seven hundred before the Flip. Most of the people had left for the cities with their families. They were never heard from or seen again. Others banded together and formed survival groups. Those that were left were the unprepared and those who made sustenance from the earth.

  John also learned that the group up the road were brigands and killers. They would kill passersby and take their property. The man was unsure what they did with the corpses, because he never saw their bodies again.

  John knew he didn’t have much to work with, but turning back seemed just as hazardous as moving forward. All the fuel they had spent to get to where they were would be in vain if they headed back.

  “Who’s the leader of this outfit?” John asked.

  “Arnie,” the man said.

  “My name is John James. What’s yours?”

  “Alex. And those guys are Sebastian, Ethan, and Bailey.”

  “Thanks. Now tell me about this Arnie.”

  “He’s our mayor. He used to have kids and stuff, but they disappeared with a few of the church people that used to live here.”

  “Is Arnie nice?” John asked.

  “Yeah, he’s cool. He lives in the old mint-green-colored house on Second Street.”

  “Thanks, Alex. Have your friends ever killed anybody?”

  “No. We’re just guards. We take turns on guard duty to keep the Pack from coming into our town.”

  “The Pack?”

  “Yeah, they live down the road in the next town. They run things down there and they’re bad people.”

  John had heard just about everything he needed to make some rational short-term decisions. He walked back to the roadblock with Alex.