The Occupation: A Thriller

by W. J. Lundy

  THE OCCUPATION

  WJ LUNDY

  Contents

  The Occupation

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Grudge

  Dead Island: Operation Zulu

  Invasion Of The Dead Series

  Whiskey Tango Foxtrot

  Wayward Son

  The Gathering Horde

  Sixth Cycle

  The Occupation

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental. All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  Created with Vellum

  Here once the embattled farmers stood

  And fired the shot heard round the world.

  Ralph Waldo Emmerson

  Prologue

  The Occupation

  The American Dream was gone.

  The nation no longer supported individual achievements. The focus was in conforming to the greater good, the melding into society. Laws and massive national debt had allowed foreign entities to take ownership of most of the United States. Corporations and technology firms ruled the other half of the country. Accomplishments were no longer based on personal views but based on the successful implementation of corporate visions. No more individual liberty. Society demanded community, and corporations required reliable labor without the burden of political and socioeconomic differences.

  It was easier this way—no more rat race, no more inhumane competition. Everything provided by corporations as part of subsistence agreement. Every drop of sweat was for the good of the community or the corporation you were indebted to. Subsistence agreements were simple. Surrender your earnings and be taken care of for life—shelter, education, healthcare, food, energy, and even a bit of spending money every month, depending on your employment level.

  When government and social programs were originally outsourced in the great reset, it was assumed all citizens would be looped into them by individual mandate. But it didn’t work that way. Several states sued, and the individual mandates, or transition to the corporation, was initially deemed unconstitutional in a Supreme Court decision.

  The Great Corporate Compromise, as it was called, became law one year later. With it, anyone born after the declaration was mandated into the programs, but everyone else could opt out. Those who chose the path of corporate subsistence would have all their basic needs met by their sponsors. This change from independence to reliance on the corporations didn’t happen overnight.

  First, the elderly moved over as Social Security programs were privatized. Those living month to month received instant relief from substandard welfare programs. Then high school graduates signed on for the free education and guaranteed employment opportunities. Eventually, the remaining population was forced into subsistence contracts just to survive or as terms of corporate employment.

  As food and other necessities became free to those on subsistence contracts, goods on open markets became extremely expensive. It was all about supply and demand. Most family farms were now owned by foreign corporations. Entire crops were sold to be exported before they were even harvested. The rest was purchased by the corporate programs, so there would be very little left for those living outside the agreements. Any surplus was scarce and usually purchased by the wealthy or by specialty stores out of reach of the average citizen.

  Large corporate-run commissaries popped up around the country, shutting down local, privately owned markets that served the independents. Hobby farms tried to fill the gap, but then home gardens became taxed under climate and conservation initiatives. Only those in corporate-run subsistence contracts could grow at home tax free—with their food allowances adjusted, of course. More were forced into contracts just to feed their families.

  Several states rejected the new programs altogether. Not complete cession rejection, but they declared themselves safe zones, rejecting many of the new laws, refusing to allow payroll taxes to be used for it, and rejecting federal funding offered.

  Several states in the heartland became notoriously independent, offering their citizens exemption from the subsistence agreements. Other states became partially independent, sheltering many counties, while being fully complaint in the big cities. Life for those in the counties became expensive and difficult.

  Most of those in rural areas had propane furnaces and water heaters. Propane was banned by the corporations for private use, and the burning of wood in first-world nations had been outlawed by the 2027 Paris Climate Accord. Homeowners, not wanting to freeze, were forced to move to electric, but the cost was very high, and the metering so restrictive, that owners had to add supplemental solar to their homes. Adding on solar had been a trend for some time, so people were not necessarily against it.

  But with the removal of tariffs, in addition to the lifting of steel dumping restrictions, American solar companies had been forced out of business. International Companies sold their products at a loss to ensure American enterprise couldn’t compete. What American industry did exist was all foreign owned. International corporations held the monopoly on solar production and the rare earth minerals required to produce it. The average homeowner could never afford the upfront thousands required to equip a single-family home. In order to remain independent, yet still follow the law, owners were forced to enter into expensive lease contracts with Chinese companies. Between these energy lease agreements, mortgages, and property taxes, private home ownership became a luxury of the ultra-wealthy.

  There was a rapid shift to electric cars in the corporate-run states, but people held onto their combustion engines out of necessity. The corporations, concerned that the transition away from combustion engines was not happening quickly enough, had decided a new gas tax would help to push people to alternative fuels. This had artificially inflated the price of a gallon of gas to over eight dollars.

  There were no real alternatives for the working class. Electric vehicles were available, but the price kept them out of the hands of most people. Mass transportation worked for citizens on contracts who lived in the city, but the rural population had been neglected. The average suburban commuter had to choose between gas and groceries. People lost their jobs because they couldn’t commute, and they didn’t have money to drive their cars.

  Crime was on the rise—gas station robberies, muggings, and carjacking vehicles just to get the fuel from their tanks. Instead of looking at the obvious and repealing the gas tax, the corporations decided to go after the guns and crime. The Supreme Court made a partisan 54-5 decision that the Second Amendment only applied to state-regulated militias. Individual gun ownership in corporate-run states was outlawed. The citizens could be disarmed as each state determined individually.

  They took from the cities first. Most of the turn-in orders had been silent, as those on contracts had surrendered their firearms as terms of corporate employment years ago. Guns were
usually seen as things for the independents and criminals. Small pockets of resistance rarely made the network news. There were rumors of hundreds of unregistered guns in the big cities, and, of course, the criminal elements held onto their firearms. Still, the administration put a happy face on the turn-in process.

  As they moved on to the suburbs and country towns, they faced more opposition. Citizens there openly refused to give up their firearms, many packing up and moving to the Free States. Others in the rural counties, living away from corporate rule, attempted to resist. Small-town sheriffs ignored orders and were quickly replaced.

  The corporations made a big show of prosecuting those who refused to comply with corporate restrictions, destroying lives and making examples of those who selfishly resisted order. One could easily get a ten-year felony for refusing to comply with a corporate order. But still, people in some towns resisted with small riots and the backing of local governments. Finally, the corporations paused the arrests until law enforcement and local leadership could be restructured to support it.

  The ATF had failed to fulfil its duties and was dissolved. The FBI was found to be ineffective at quickly closing investigations, so a new law enforcement agency was formed. Homeland Directorate. Outraged at the overreach, more states began to split off from the United States, declaring themselves independent from federal laws, the way they had begun deregulation of drugs in the late 1990s. They used the same standards to refuse the restrictions of firearms, energy rights, and even taxation.

  New legislation was passed. Firearms collection, obstruction laws, and compliance bills were rushed through the new divided House and Corporate controlled Senate. With most of the seats filled by corporate sponsors, the laws easily passed. The Homeland Directorate became the primary federal enforcement arm. Anyone caught in violation of corporate law could be taken into federal custody and held for thirty days without charges. If you committed a crime against a Homeland agent attempting to enforce corporate law, there was no restriction on how long you could be held in custody. Likewise, if a law enforcement officer resisted the orders of Homeland, they could be jailed indefinitely.

  People who refused the collection of their personal property were taken into federal custody. No court dates, no due process. Their homes and property could be auctioned to pay legal fees and penalties. The system had been overwhelmed with resistors. States threatened complete cessation and offered amnesty to anyone who fled corporate prosecution. Free State governors ordered their local law enforcement officers to not cooperate with corporate collection orders. National Guard elements began to stand down and refuse to assist Homeland agents. Law and order was crumbling.

  The nation became known as the Free and Occupied United States of America, and it was at a breaking point.

  Chapter One

  The heavy footfalls of tactical boots barely registered over the whine of the lawnmower blade being ground sharp. John reached across with his free hand and cut the power to the belt grinder. He turned to see a Sherman Township sheriff’s vehicle sitting on the curve to the left of his driveway. Serve and Protect was printed on the bright, white hood. Sherriff Bill Ransom, followed by a stranger in black, advanced up the sidewalk toward him. John looked past the two and saw an identical car in front of his neighbor’s driveway.

  He stood from the stool he had been resting on, rolled his broad shoulders, and stretched out, showing his full six-foot frame. “Good morning, Bill. What brings you to my end of the burbs?” John said as he walked toward the open overhead garage door.

  Bill stared toward John’s left hand, which was still gripping the now sharpened lawnmower blade, and nodded. “You planning to cut some grass?” he said, smiling as he glanced over his shoulder at the female agent. “You know, the cooperative can do that cheaper and for less emissions.”

  John laughed. “Don’t worry, Bill. The mower isn’t gas powered, if you were looking to write me a climate fine—but, yeah, just doing some maintenance. That old electro-mow hasn’t been cutting worth a damn lately,” he said as he walked to a bench and set down the blade. “So, what is it I can help you with, Bill? What brings Sherman’s finest to my home?”

  “You heard from Sharon lately?” Bill asked.

  John shook his head. Bill, a friend from high school, knew that Sharon had left John over three years ago, just before he retired from the Army and decided to move back to their hometown, which just happened to be on the edge of nowhere. She had no strength to live in an Occupied State, and, in some ways, he didn’t blame her.

  “You’re really rubbing it in, ain’t ya, Bill?” He put his hands on his hips and took a step closer to the wall and leaned against it. “I told you when I moved out here that Sharon was gone and wasn’t coming back. You can go ahead and mark her a fat ‘no’ on next year’s class reunion.”

  “You ran her off, did ya? With that charming personality, I could see how,” Bill said.

  John shook his head. “Nah. She isn’t cut out for all this freedom and country living, I guess. You understand that, right, Bill? The need for freedom and to be left alone?”

  Bill grinned and nodded. “Okay, John, small talk has never been our thing. You know that today is the deadline,” the sheriff said. “Let’s hand them over now, and you’ll still be covered under the Forgiveness Agreements. No fines, no jail time.”

  “Letter I got said the deadline was two weeks from now.”

  Bill nodded his head slowly and held up a small, folded sheet of paper. “Manager Nohrs moved up the deadline, thought it might be more productive that way.”

  John laughed. “Must be he needs to get his arrest numbers up and kiss that ass in D.C., aye? Make a few residents vanish and garner himself a better job in the administration? Move up to county, maybe?”

  Bill bit his lip to conceal a grin. He was just as big a fan of the politically appointed city manager as most of the residents were, which meant he hated him. “John, a mailer went out. You showed delinquent on a few recorded items.”

  “Oh, this is about that again. I got your letter in the mail from that manager. You know, Sheriff, I don’t remember voting for that puppet.” John knew that the manager was a contentious topic with city employees. Especially contentious with the sheriff, who reported directly to him. City managers had no oversight from the state or the county. They reported directly to corporate management authorities in Washington.

  If small towns and cities like Sherman wanted corporate operating funds, then they dismissed their duly elected officials and accepted a corporate-appointed manager. The managers didn’t run the cities any more efficiently, but they ran them in the corporate vision for progress. The rollout was rejected by the people, but city councils were more than happy to terminate mayors and welcome managers on board, especially when it came with a healthy pay raise for all of them. And, of course, elected officials’ salaries could be drawn on top of the subsistence allowances.

  John knew that, as a sheriff, Bill had no authority to make decisions of his own.

  The sheriff took the comment like a punch in the gut. He took in a deep breath and said, “Corporate appointed or not, the city manager’s order is legitimate.” The law man unfolded a sheet of paper he had tucked in his shirt pocket. “We’re not just picking on you; this went out to everyone.”

  “What about you, Bill? Are you a puppet now too?” John pointed at the car. “Or do you still serve and protect the folks that voted for you?”

  The agent in black, annoyed with the conversation, stepped forward, holding a clipboard. John took notice that she was also carrying a holstered pistol, and the holster was unsnapped. “Excuse me, Mr. Warren, we did show you at the turn-in event last year, but you only dropped off three rifles and an uncertified police revolver—"

  “C’mon Bill, this is just harassing folks now. At some point, you need to focus on criminals and leave us alone out here in the burbs.” He looked at the woman. “Your paperwork is correct; that was all I had,” John snapped back. �
�Just like I stated in the mail-in response to the puppet over at townhall. You all could have saved a lot of time if you’d just read it, Miss.”

  “According to our records, you also own several long rifles and a number of semi-automatic handguns.”

  “Nope,” John said, shaking his head. He had sent all of those with Sharon when she moved to Texas, but that was none of the agent’s business. “I sold ’em all at gun shows long before the restrictions came into place. I had to raise money for divorce lawyers. I’m sure you know something about that, Bill.”

  The sheriff shook his head. “John, do you have the damn things or not?”

  The agent held up her hand, stopping him from replying. “Are you under contract, Mr. Warren?” she asked. “And before you answer—it is Agent Matthews, not ‘Miss.’”

  “Well, Miss, if you want to play those games, you can call me Captain. And no, I am not under contract, I am exempt under military dwell time.”

  “I see,” she said, flipping through papers, clearly not understanding what he had just said.

  Bill stepped closer. “John is retired Army. He’s independent, with benefits and a full pension.”

  “I thought they removed that program; all retirees are now under contract,” she said, still flipping papers. “How is it you’ve managed to remain independent?”