“There’s nothing like a little ethnic cleansing,” Damien said. “Perhaps we need to step it up a notch. Let’s finish this place off now. I don’t want any more surprises. Bring all the food and supplies back to this house. Kill who you need to, burn what you want—you know the drill.”
“What about the…” Danny began, holding up the pipe cutters.
Damien reached for them and said, “I’ll take care of this one.”
“10-4,” Danny said. He mounted his motorcycle and backed it down the driveway, and then jetted off down the street.
A member of the group that had been instructed to take the screaming woman inside, walked out of the house and soon made his way over to Damien. He was holding a screaming infant in his arms. He approached his President and said, “Look, Prez—a baby.” He laughed. “What should we name it?”
Damien was not amused. He flicked his cigarette into the yard and spit.
“How about we name it, fuckin dumbass,” Damien jested, “After the idiot who found it.”
The biker looked surprised. He backed away a bit, expecting some act of wrath by Damien to befall him.
“Get rid of it,” Damien said. “Now. And I don’t care how. It’s just one more mouth to feed.”
“We could get that bitch to feed him,” the biker said, “once we’re done with her, that is.”
Damien pulled his pistol and placed the muzzle on the infant’s chest. The biker gasped and looked at Damien fearfully.
“If I have to do this, believe me when I tell you, you’ll be next,” he assured.
“Brutal, boss. That’s just brutal!”
The biker turned and ran back to the house quickly with the infant and Damien replaced his pistol.
“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” he said.
Chapter 12
Point Blank Weapons Training Center
Capon Bridge, West Virginia
Two years and six months earlier
As her dad continued driving further and further down the very narrow gravel road, Lauren was starting to feel apprehensive. They had been on it for the past fifteen minutes and still hadn’t gotten to where they were going. Every time she would ask him how much longer, he would just look over to her and smile. It was annoying to her. The woods seemed to be closing in on them the further they went. The tree tops were hiding the sun. She felt lucky that she wasn’t claustrophobic—she probably would have lost her mind a mile or so ago if she was.
“This is ridiculous,” Lauren piped up. “The sign back there said Independence Drive. It should have said ‘some random garden path’, for the love of god.”
Her father looked over to her lovingly and laughed.
“Will you please tell me where we are going, Dad?” Lauren asked.
“I told you—it’s a surprise,” he replied.
“I get it. You’re taking me to the woods for my birthday,” she said, giving him a cynical look.
“Something like that,” he joked. “This place is different. I’m pretty sure you’ll like it. If you do, we can come back as often as you like.”
“You’ve taken me to the woods for just about every occasion I can think of,” she reminded.
“That’s not—completely true, but I’ll agree somewhat.”
“Will you at least tell me what it is?” she pleaded. “I can’t stand waiting to find out.”
He smiled. “I’ve been coming here off and on for the past few years,” he said, evading her question. “I’ve been able to learn quite a lot of things here—useful things. I really enjoy my time out here.”
“DAD,” Lauren said in an irritated voice.
“You’ll see in a few minutes,” he said. “I promise.”
Turning around a corner, they pulled into an exposed field that was surrounded by the forest they had just driven through. In front of them was a sign that read, “Point Blank Weapons Training Center – Lock and Load”. Lauren sat up in her seat.
“A shooting range?” she inquired. “Really, Dad…”
“It’s much more than just a shooting range,” he replied.
Lauren began to look around as her father drove them over to where the parking lot was located. She noticed groups of men and women walking around in tactical clothing. Some were fully dressed in camouflage military clothing. Almost all were carrying weapons of some sort. Some had on backpacks, some were wearing boonie hats or helmets. Some, even had their faces painted in camouflage paint. There were quite a few others walking around in black t-shirts, with the word INSTRUCTOR in large, white letters on the back.
“Dad, where in the hell have you taken me?” Lauren asked with a big smile on her face.
He smiled and parked the car, then said, “Point Blank is a tactical training range. The trainers here are nothing short of outstanding. They’re all combat veterans. They teach marksmanship, proper firearm handling, group shooting, stack drills, patrols, and all kinds of stuff. I signed you up for the Intermediate Operator Course. The things I’ve taught you at the range were pretty basic. This weekend, you’ll learn way more than I could ever teach you. It may come in handy for you someday. Happy Birthday.”
Lauren looked stunned. She had been able to shoot her father’s AR-15 every time he had taken her to the range, but had always wanted to learn more. She had watched videos many times, but was never able to learn much from them. This place appeared to be a haven for people who considered themselves devout members of American gun culture. She could feel the excitement building. She could barely contain herself.
“Dad, how’d you know I’d be interested in doing something like this?” she asked.
“Father’s intuition,” Alan said. “You’re growing up like crazy, but I’d like to think I know you still—even if it’s just a little bit.”
“You know me more than just a little bit.”
Alan smiled. “I truly hope it stays that way. Come on, let’s go meet some people.”
“This is absolutely amazing,” Lauren blurted out enthusiastically. Her excitement getting the best of her, she allowed few choice curse words to escape.
Alan glared at her before getting out of the car. “Watch your mouth,” he said.
They walked up to a small group of people that consisted several men and women, some of which were wearing solid color military-style clothing. They looked as normal as could be in a place like this. Lauren instantly noticed the lean, muscular man with very tanned skin, who wore a black shirt with the word INSTRUCTOR on the back in large, white letters. His skin looked like leather to her, and his arms were covered in tattoos. The instructor looked at them, nodded, and held out his hand, exposing his very muscular tattooed forearm.
“Alan Russell. Good to see you, sir,” he said with a deep, raspy voice as he took Alan’s hand. “I take it this is your lovely daughter that you’ve told me so much about.”
They released their handshake and he turned to Lauren.
“Good to see you too, Dave,” Alan said with a broad smile, “and yes, this is my youngest, Lauren. She just turned sixteen today. L, this is Dave Graham, he’ll be your instructor this weekend.”
Lauren began to blush a little. Dave reached out his rough hand to her and she took it.
“Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he said, “and Happy Birthday to you.”
“Thank you—and it’s Lauren. Call me Lauren,” she interjected.
“Fine. Pleasure to meet you—Lauren.”
“Likewise,” Lauren said, eyeing his tattoos and paying special attention to the one of a skull with a beret on its head. She paused and then asked, “Are you in the Army?”
“I was for a while, but not anymore. I retired several years ago. I’m what you’d call, ‘career enlisted’. Spent most of my time on base as a firearms instructor. Now…I just hang out here, training fellow patriots how to shoot straight and not get killed.”
Lauren nodded and pointed to the tattoo she had been eyeballing. “And that tattoo…what’s it stand for?”
Dave looked down and twisted his arm outright to display his ink. “That, my dear, is from the Special Forces. De oppresso liber means ‘to liberate the oppressed.’ It’s our motto. I retired from the Army. The Green Beret in me lives on.”
Lauren was taken aback at his forwardness for a moment, but soon smiled. She had never met anyone like Instructor Dave before, but she was completely fascinated by him. She said nothing after his response. Feeling as though he may have frightened her, he digressed.
“Did your father tell you that he’s one of my favorite students?” he pondered to Lauren. “He’s been a regular visitor here for a while now.”
Lauren looked up at her father with a confused look on her face. She knew he enjoyed his guns and loved going to the range, but she’d no idea that he’d been coming here and doing this “tactical shooting” thing. He was always so busy. She wondered how he was even able to find the time.
“I had no idea that he was a student, period,” Lauren said.
“I appreciate the compliments, Dave,” Alan said humbly. “You can stop anytime.”
“Quit being so modest,” Dave joked. “I’m not hitting on you…yet.”
Lauren looked at her father curiously as he shook his head and waved her off. Dave made his way through the group while several other introductions were made around the circle. Alan seemed to know just about everyone. After Lauren had met the group members, she pulled her father aside with a worried look.
“They all have rifles, Dad,” she whispered into his ear.
“My AR is in the car. Your Glock is in your backpack,” he said, “or at least it should be.”
“It is.”
“Good. I brought your pistol belt and a spare magazine carrier, and there’s about a thousand rounds of ammunition in the car. You’re covered.”
Lauren looked surprised, but pleased. “Thanks, Dad,” she said in a very genuine tone.
“You’re welcome, baby.”
Instructor Dave motioned for everyone to follow him down to the range. Alan retrieved the weapons and ammunition from the car and locked it up, then followed the group with Lauren in tow. Once everyone had gathered on the range, Dave stood in front of the group and began to speak. Alan set their belongings on a large wooden table that stood just behind them.
“I’m seeing a lot of familiar faces,” he began, “I’m also seeing some new ones. That’s a good thing. Times are changing, folks. We need to change along with them. We live in a world today that isn’t safe. It’s a world where we are surrounded by our enemies everywhere we go. Decisions our government has made, have put every single one of us, along with our sons and daughters, in jeopardy. It’s pretty obvious to me that we’ve been infiltrated. I hope all of you have chosen to not be oblivious. This isn’t the America we knew during the Reagan years. You are here today because you have chosen to learn something that can’t be learned anywhere else. Myself, along with the other instructors, are here to teach you that something. We are not here to teach you what you want to know—we’re here to teach you what need to know. You’re here because you have chosen a different life than most of the sheeple in our country. You’re here because you’ve chosen not to be a sheep. You’re here because you have chosen to live your life without blinders on. You want to be protectors. You want to be sheepdogs. You want to defend something worth defending, whether it’s your family, your freedom, your lifestyle, or the country you love. Maybe it’s all of those things. Either way, you’re here because your way of thinking is different than what is typical.” He paused. “That being said, welcome to the Intermediate Operator Course. This is the second course in our Civilian Warrior curriculum here at Point Blank. All of you know who I am and I know pretty much who all of you are. Some of you have been to my other classes, and to those I’d like to say, welcome back.” He paused as he pranced in front of the group. “This is a two-day intermediate skill level course. When I say intermediate, I mean that we assume everyone taking this course already knows how to shoot and understands basic firearm and range safety—there shouldn’t be any beginners here. All of the conditions we train for here are mirrored to conditions found in the field of combat. You will not see YouTube video tacticool shit here.” He paused to allow some of the group’s laughter to dissipate. “We will teach you weapon manipulations that you’re not accustomed to. It may feel weird at first, but you will get the hang of it. We will shoot long distance and we will be performing CQC…or close quarters combat drills. We will train you to shorten your reaction time and help you develop advanced muscle memory. We will teach you how to transition from your primary weapon to your secondary weapon and do so under stress. We will practice firing from different types of cover. You will learn to shoot well on the move and you will learn to shoot from unconventional positions—in ways that are very, very effective. I know—I made them up myself.”
He paused and allowed the group to finish another round of laughter. Lauren was smiling brightly, but was paying very close attention to him. He continued, “We will attempt to place you into several very realistic life-threatening scenarios to see how you think and react, and believe me when I tell you, we are going to do our best to make them feel real as hell to you. In fact, it may get a bit personal—but that is what is required. We will be doing lots of shooting this weekend, but any group exercises we do will not be live-fire. If you want to do that, you’ll need to pass this class with flying colors, not shoot anyone, and live to take my advanced operator courses.”
Lauren looked up at her father. He nodded to her. “I’ll sign you up for it if you want,” he whispered. Lauren began to glow.
“Ladies and gentlemen, this class has a moderate physical difficulty rating,” Dave continued. “If you can’t transition from standing to sitting, to kneeling and to prone in all combinations, you will have a hard time keeping up with those who can.” He paused. “Today, we are graced with a member of the younger generation.” He held out his hand and pointed at Lauren. She smiled and blushed slightly. “She will probably run rings around all of us. There will be quite a lot of tactical scenarios taught this weekend. I hope everyone knows how to take good notes. Good luck to all of you. Saddle up—we start the first exercise in five minutes.”
After the introduction to the class, Alan took a seat behind the table and Lauren cocked her head with a confused look.
“You’re not taking the class with me?” she asked.
“Oh no,” he said. “I’ve taken it before. It’s expensive, L. I had enough cash set aside for just you to take it. I do plan on taking some of the advanced courses with you though, so make sure and pass this one.”
“Ok,” she said sounding a little disappointed.
“Is something wrong?” Alan asked.
“I’m not sure I’m ready for this, Dad,” she said. She took a long look around at the many shooting lanes and courses in her field of view. One in particular stood out to her and she didn’t know why. It was a lane about one-hundred yards long, with a single grey steel silhouette that had an orange round circle on center-mass and on the portion which made up the head.
“You can do this, L. You are more than capable. I promise you that. I wouldn’t have brought you here, if I didn’t think you could handle it.”
“Ok—if you say so,” she said.
“I do say so. I want you to learn all you can this weekend. You’ll be better prepared, should you ever need these skills. With the way things are going in this world, what you learn here will be a huge asset.”
Lauren nodded and put on her pistol belt, which held her Glock 22, and a spare magazine carrier for both her handgun and the AR-15. Just a little way downrange, she could hear Instructor Dave exclaim that the first exercise would be dry-fire only. Dave made it clear that anyone caught with live rounds would receive an ass-kicking from him. She dumped the magazine from her Glock and placed it back into its holster. She then checked the chamber of the AR-15 and verified that it was indeed empty, then turned to join the
members of the group who, one by one, were doing the same. She walked a few feet away from her father, then turned to him.
“Thank you, Dad—and, I love you,” she said.
“I love you, too,” he said with a humble smile. “Now, go show them what you’re made of.”
“Ok,” she said, a bit unsure but confident nonetheless.
“Hey, L…”
“Yes…” Lauren said, sounding a little annoyed.
“You look beautiful…”
Lauren smiled and somewhat urgently said, “Dad, come on. I gotta go.”
She turned away and joined her fellow classmates. Alan just looked at her with the eyes of a very proud father. The class moved further away down the range, following Instructor Dave as he did his thing. As his attention fixated on his daughter and the group, a man approached Alan from behind and poked him in the back. Alan turned around quickly and noticed his friend Fred Mason, standing behind him with a smile.
“She’s come a long way,” Fred’s boisterous voice said to him as he took a seat beside him, pointing to Lauren and the group.
“Hey, Fred. I didn’t know you’d be here this weekend,” Alan said, a bit startled but otherwise happy to see his friend.
“I show up every so often to make sure Dave isn’t making a fool out of himself,” Fred said.
Alan smiled. “I never knew the Rangers and Green Berets were so close,” he said, somewhat jokingly.
“Other than reporting to the same command at Bragg, we’re not,” Fred affirmed. “I overlook it though, seeing as how he’s the wife’s brother and all…”
“So, the fact that he speaks fluent Chinese doesn’t bother you?” Alan jested.
“Not one damn bit,” Fred said with raise eyebrows.
Alan laughed. Fred set a small olive green backpack on the table and pulled out a large stainless steel revolver. He extracted it from its holster and laid it on the table in front of Alan.
What's Left of My World (Book 1) Page 20
