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

by L. Douglas Hogan

  “Do we even know what’s in there?” Ash asked, pointing to Benton, then putting a black sock cap on his head.

  “No, we don’t, and that’s the dilemma,” Nathan answered.

  Jessica put her arm around Nathan, showing him affection, and set her head against his shoulder, cuddling in next to him.

  “Well, Nate, we know what awaits us if we go up I-57.”

  “Yeah, UN checkpoints. Lots of them, and absolutely no cover if things get bad.”

  “Look,” Ash said. “We probably need to head into Benton anyway. We’re short on supplies and haven’t managed to recruit anybody since the early days of Marion. We need more water, too.”

  “Water makes you weak,” Nathan said.

  “What are you talking about?” Jess asked Nathan as she gave him a squeeze. “Is that more jarhead lingo?”

  Nathan laughed. “It is,” he said, “but it’s true. Sure, you need it to live, but being trained to go without when you have to can help keep your head screwed on tight when you’re running low.”

  “I can see that,” Ash said.

  “Okay, then,” Nathan said, changing the topic back to Benton. “I say we go through. Rally everybody on me.”

  Ash and Jess stepped out away from Nathan and gave the rally on me hand signal.

  HMMWV doors started opening and everybody in the group started to rally on Nathan.

  Nathan felt the noise levels were a little high, so he shouted, “Listen up,” and began his operational readiness speech.

  “I know most of you know a thing or two about Benton. Let me just say that it’s full of history and that makes it a popular location for Franklin County buggers. We have to go through to keep on a northward trek. I-57 poses more hazards than what we believe may be waiting for us in that town, but we won’t truly know until we get in. Now, some of you have loved ones being held in the Chicago FEMA detention center; some of you don’t have family anymore because the blue helmets took it upon themselves to execute judgment upon them for being American. Most of you want your country back, so you’re here to execute a little justice of your own. Whatever the cause, we ride together, we fight together, and we die together!”

  Nathan had no more finished his speech when the sound of a roaring freight train could be heard coming in from the south. Every person faced east and took notice of the railroad tracks headed alongside Highway 37 into Benton.

  Everybody began scrambling back to their vehicles.

  “You guys know the protocol! No noise, no movement, no shooting until you’re being fired upon or given the go!”

  All the vehicles began driving off the road and into a thin forest area on the west side of the street. Once all the vehicles were parked and facing the road, camouflage netting was pulled from the cargo areas of the HMMWVs and spread out over every vehicle that could fit. The others were hiding in the rear.

  The heavy machine gunners were ready to enter their turrets. Everybody had their weapons locked and loaded as they hunkered down and waited to see what would happen next.

  Bicentennial Park, Northwest Indiana

  Lieutenant Colonel Buchanan had been communicating with General John James for the past three days on a sophisticated radio frequency system using a SATCOM transceiver and ground relay station. Of many of the bits of information Buchanan had on the system, it included footprints, the rotation of the earth, the elevation of the satellites being used, their speed, etc. Buchanan felt it was all way over his head, but was all too happy to be using a radio that could reach across the state of Indiana.

  He also felt that the idea of placing a Com Marine in his unit so that communications and radio-traffic security could be insured between the two groups was a genius idea, at the least.

  Relations between the two groups were being solidified and Buchanan was ready to release the burden of command to his superior, Commandant John James. He had learned from James that the commandant still had an ace up his sleeve, but wasn’t ready to reveal it to him just yet. He was hoping that sometime soon, perhaps after their official union, they would lay out all the cards, so to speak. Buchanan was eager to know what the general knew, and was very eager to share with him the intelligence that the oracle had brought.

  Fort Wayne, Indiana

  Michael shook the hands of John James and Belt McKanty one last time. He had made the decision to stay in Fort Wayne, where there was some semblance of liberty and the old ways.

  “Thank you for all you’ve done, Michael. You have proven yourself to be a hard man. You would have been a good Marine, in different times.”

  “Thank you, sir. Coming from you, that means a lot.”

  Michael readjusted the strap on his rifle and snugged it up onto his shoulder, and headed out the gates, where he enjoyed patrolling the perimeter of the city.

  John and Belt were packing up their belongings as well. They were loading their military vehicles with ammunition, MREs (meals ready-to-eat), and other essential gear for a long-term excursion outside the gates, where Operation Returning Liberty was going to officially kick off.

  When John and Belt were finished packing, they shook hands and separated. The general had parted the convoy in two. The whole convoy would be under the general’s command, but should there be an attack, they would be removed from one another in different parts of the convoy, assuring a commander would survive. John took the front portion, and Belt took the second portion.

  Each of them entered their respective vehicles and they drove off in a westward direction, towards Bicentennial Park, Valparaiso, where they would finally meet Bravo One and his brave Marines.

  The District

  Executive Commander Abdul Muhaimin had waited patiently his entire military career to possess what he had now attained. His ambitions filled his head and overwhelmed his mind with new opportunities and avenues for advancement. He was not interested in the UN’s version of what a global community should be. The UN’s vision was summarized in their Agenda 21 policy and that conflicted heavily with his Muslim belief system.

  Originally, Muhaimin was disgusted at the thought of entering the United States. After it had fallen, he felt it was by his hand. In the mind of General Muhaimin, it was by his command his troops came through the southern borders of America. It was his genius that the Mississippi River was used to float his machines of war and personnel into the Midwestern states. It was his word that brought soldiers to the East and West Coasts of America, and it would be by his command that America lived or perished.

  When word came of Councilor Pao’s opinion that America be exposed to a deadly viral pandemic in order to speed along the green-zoning process, it deeply offended Muhaimin. For Pao’s act of attrition against the executive commander, Muhaimin sent a message to the would-be destroyer of his ambitions. In just a matter of a couple days, word would be reaching his ears that Pao had received his fair reward. But, for now, the executive commander was working on something else.

  The upgrades for the Utah Data Center had arrived and Muhaimin was eager to test the ability of his new upgraded FLIES drones. In a couple minutes, the installation would be complete and the signal magnification would be expanded to unprecedented distances. Soon, every veteran who had ever served in the past fifteen years, having received an RFID chip, would be located, identified, and lit up on an E-Tech board, and they could be systematically rounded up or terminated.

  Muhaimin sat in the Oval Office with his feet propped up on the Resolute Desk. He was anxiously waiting for the phone to ring with news from his Advanced Technological Weapons Systems czar that the upgrades were complete. After a half hour of waiting beyond the time he was promised, he stood up and straightened out his uniform.

  “If you want something done on time, you have to supervise it yourself,” he said. Nobody was in the office with the executive commander. He felt so vastly superior to others that he sometimes spoke to himself because he believed he was the only one sophisticated enough to speak to.

  Muhaim
in headed out of the Oval Office and proceeded to the White House Situation Room. There were two guards standing outside the room that bowed their heads when their executive commander approached. He waited for their heads to rise and then they opened the door for him. Muhaimin entered the room and first took notice of all the hologram technology that had been recently added to the room.

  Payam Vahidi was the Iranian czar he had appointed over the Advanced Technological Weapons Systems. He was completely loyal to Muhaimin and would sacrifice his own life if asked to do so.

  In his native Persian tongue, Muhaimin questioned his czar.

  “What is the hold up, Mr. Vahidi?”

  “Sir, I do apologize for the delay. The Utah Data Collection Center has informed me that we have successfully installed the software updates. However, the technology we have here in the District is outdated and required a software patch to complete the process.”

  “What kind of timetable are we looking at now?”

  “Sir, the patch is downloading now and should be complete within an hour.”

  “Then we’ll be live?”

  “Sir, after the install, the system will have to be rebooted. All existing FLIES drones will need to be grounded before the system is finished rebooting. After that, the feed from the Utah Data Collection Center will be fed live to the District.”

  “Excellent work, Mr. Vahidi. The next time you experience a delay, do inform me.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Muhaimin walked out of the White House Situation Room and walked down the hall and around the corner. When he was alone, he stood in front of his window and pulled out his cell. After lighting up the screen with just a touch of a button, he hit one more button that called his contact in Beijing.

  Outside the home of Councilor Pao, Beijing, China

  Just a block south of Councilor Sung Pao’s home was a luxury black 2032 LE BMW with tinted windows. Inside was an Iranian man, dressed in all white linen, watching the councilor’s home. As he sat patiently, his phone vibrated.

  Vvvv vvvv.

  The man looked at the screen of his phone and then held it up to his ear, but did not say anything. There was a voice on the other end.

  “Black Creek is on hold for at least another hour. Stand your post and await further instruction.”

  The man pulled the phone away from his ear and turned off his cell phone’s screen.

  The District

  Muhaimin put his cell phone away and walked over to the nearest window. With both hands clasped behind his back, he peered out the window, the sunlight bathing his face. The executive commander felt confidently in charge.

  Just south of West Frankfort, Illinois

  Tori was parked on the side of the road, watching another freight train head north. The train was to the east of her with about seven hundred meters between them. She felt safe enough to watch from the distance with her left eye. She still had debris in her right eye from the struggle with the Carbondale bandit. She didn’t have enough water to waste on a good rinse, so she tried her best to suffer through it. She counted about sixty train cars in all.

  “I wonder where all these trains are headed?”

  She started to move the bike’s mirror so she could see the reflection of her eye. The mirror was stiff and offered a little resistance. As it began to give way, she saw the reflection of the road behind her as the mirror swept past her posterior view.

  She saw several men walking up the road behind her. She saw their figures, but the mirror swept their reflection by too fast to get a number. She saw them walking in a strategic two-column formation. One column on either side of the road.

  She remained calm and thought about starting the bike back up, but if it took more than one attempt, she risked being killed. She didn’t know what the aggressiveness level of these men would be, so her thoughts of dying included going down shooting.

  She hoped they still believed they had the jump on her, so she was careful not to make sudden movements that were out of place. She maintained the same posture and body language while she removed the rifle from the side of her bike and lifted her right leg up and over the seat. This move spun her around with the rifle at the ready and facing in the direction of the strangers.

  The men stopped in their tracks.

  Tori could see the men with her left eye but was in no condition to be in a gunfight. Even with two eyes.

  With her one good eye, she could see twelve men wearing different patterns of camouflaged clothing.

  “Easy, lady. We don’t want any trouble.”

  The statement calmed her a bit, but she was too untrusting to let her guard down.

  One of the men turned around towards the others and motioned with his left hand for them to lower their rifles.

  They did.

  Tori kept hers trained on the man that was now approaching her. He had both of his arms in the air, but the rifle was still in his right hand. She watched as he slowly bent his knees, not breaking eye contact with her, and lowered himself to the point where he could place his rifle on the ground.

  “Look, lady. If we intended you any harm, we would’ve shot you when your back was to us.”

  Tori believed the statement. It made perfect sense, but she was still untrusting.

  “Take three more steps towards me and keep that rifle on the ground,” she said.

  The stranger could see she was struggling with her right eye. She couldn’t keep it open and was turning her head frequently to maintain a wider peripheral with her good eye.

  “Look, I can help. There’s water in my butt pack,” he said.

  She remembered he was carrying the rifle in his right hand.

  “Use your left hand to fetch it out. No sudden moves.”

  “Okay.”

  The man reached slowly into his butt pack and removed a canteen.

  “Who are you?” Tori asked him.

  “My name is Mike. I’m from Marion. Me and my guys were sent to track some murderers that headed in this direction.”

  “Mike, place the canteen on the ground and kick it towards me.”

  Mike did as she asked.

  She lowered herself to pick it up and gave it a shake. The canteen was about half full. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to open it without compromising her hold on the rifle, but saw it as another test to try the man’s integrity.

  Tori gave up her advantage over the man to unscrew the cap on the canteen.

  Mike saw an opportunity to lunge at the woman and take her by force, but he was a good man and his intentions to assist were pure.

  When Tori saw Mike did not attack her, she walked back to her bike and place the rifle back into the straps that held it in place for travel.

  She went to her mirror and canted her head to the side. This put her back to the stranger. She knew it was a risky move, but it would ease her trust level if he didn’t take advantage of the situation.

  She poured the water into her eye and flushed it with every drop that would pour out.

  Standing back up and gently wiping her eye, she walked up to Mike and handed him the canteen.

  “Thank you. My name’s Tori.”

  “Mike. Mike Hammond,” he said. “So what are you doing out here alone?”

  “I’m tracking people, too.”

  “Killers?”

  “No, just the opposite. I’m tracking a friend that did everything he could to save people before the Flip. I should’ve listened.”

  “Would you like to join us?”

  “I’m afraid that wouldn’t be feasible. You see, I have this bike, and I don’t see myself pushing it from here to your murderers.”

  “True, but you have a better survivability rate if you stay in a group.”

  “I can’t argue with statistics. Grab your rifle. If you had plans to snuff me, you would have done it already.”

  Tori walked back to her bike and tried to pick it up.

  “Would you mind helping me one last time?”

&n
bsp; Mike walked over to assist her.

  “I guess you’re not staying with us?”

  I’m sorry. You’ve been hospitable, but I need the company of people I know. Besides, I’m not giving up the Harley. Who knows, maybe I’ll run into your murderers and do you a favor.”

  “I don’t think we have the manpower to do it alone. They looked like a group of Marines and ragtag civilians. Our orders are to observe and report back, but we lost them. We don’t want to go back empty handed, the boss has a bad temper.”

  It was Mike’s comment group of Marines that caught Tori’s attention.

  “You know what? I think I’ll try my luck with you guys. Help me hide the bike in those woods and I’ll unpack my stuff and join your foot patrol.”

  “Cool.”

  Mike was eager to help her. He liked her spirit and there was something about the way his canteen water mixed with the dirt on her face that made her even more attractive.

  Together, they pushed the bike into the woods, collected tree limbs and tall dead weeds, and covered the bike.

  The first snowflakes of the year were beginning to fall.

  The two of them stood in the woods and looked up into the sky. Tori could feel a cold flake as it landed on her cheek.

  “I hate snow,” she said.

  “I love it. My mom used to collect snow and mix it with milk, sugar, and vanilla extract, and called it snow ice cream.”

  Tori, Mike, and eleven other strangers began their trek north, towards West Frankfort. The snow would eventually accumulate and be an alternate water source, but for now, it was just a nuisance to Tori and a pretty sight for Mike.

  Hiding behind the trees several hundred yards away, Cade was lying in a prone position, looking through the scope of his rifle. He had his crosshairs on Tori from time to time, not out of ill will or a desire to shoot her, but he was using the magnifying zoom on the scope as he would a pair of binoculars, if he had them. He had heard Tori’s motorcycle earlier and scurried off of the road to hide in the woods. Now that he had caught up to her, he saw that she was with a dozen or so men. He had lain quietly in the forest, watching, to see what he could figure out about the woman and the men. Strangely enough, the woman had lowered her guard to the men and they were now leaving together. He felt unsafe traveling alone and wanted to meet these people. If she could lower her guard for a dozen strange men, surely she would lower her guard to take in a single wounded man.