The Mechanics: A Post-Apocalyptic Fiction Series

by Bobby Akart

  “That’s right, Donald,” said Sarge. “By focusing on neighborhoods and local communities first, we can build on these successes and apply this principle regionally and then nationwide.”

  “What about the gang threat?” asked Brad.

  “We have effectively chased the rats back into their nest,” replied Steven. “Between our increased sniper activity and foot patrols, J-Rock and his buddies have stayed out of our way.”

  “And the MS-13?”

  “My new friend, the White Devil, has driven the bastards back to East Boston, Hell, I had to call him back because the Asians wanted to invade the Easties. Besides, I’ve got plans for his crew.”

  “What is it?” asked Brad.

  “We’ve been capturing some of the UN soldiers,” replied Steven. “We strip them of their gear and uniforms. After some interrogation, we drop their naked asses off in the middle of the city to find their way back to the Seaport.”

  “Hilarious!” shouted Brad.

  “Yeah. A large part of the UN force is of Asian descent. We’ve been using the Asian gang members to infiltrate their ranks and gather intel.”

  “Well done, Steven,” said Sarge. “This keeps Chinatown involved in a big way. The idea behind classic guerilla warfare is to keep the people emotionally tied to your movement. Conventional warfare focuses on territory gained and casualty counts. The insurgent movement led by the Mechanics is gauged by the support of the population. As long as we can provide them, or assist them in producing, food, clean water, shelter, and other necessities, we will win their loyalty.”

  “What’s the big picture?” asked Katie.

  Sarge pushed his sleeves up and replied, “The biggest mistake a movement or insurgency operation can make is alienating the population. Once you alienate the population, you’re finished. I believe the administration, through its heavy-handed approach, has lost the support of the American people.”

  “I can say this, from an armed forces perspective,” interjected Brad, “morale couldn’t be lower. Those soldiers who’ve stayed on post are doing it out of a sense of duty and honor or, in rare cases, opportunism. In some regions, the military is conducting the same types of functions as the UN is in our region. The bad apples in the military are taking advantage of their newfound power for personal profit and gain.”

  Sarge moved to the corkboard and pinned up his first map. It revealed the regional headquarters of the Citizen Corps governors.

  “Similar to what we discussed a few moments ago, we need to establish a national game plan,” said Sarge. “This is a map indicating the divisions of the country established by the Citizen Corps. Typical of a government bureaucracy, it is divided by state lines, not like-minded people.”

  Sarge paused to allow the group to study the ten regions created by the President. A large red dot depicted Washington, D.C., as the headquarters. He directed everyone’s attention to this point first, using his rolled-up maps.

  “Washington, as our capital, was originally envisioned as the headquarters of the Citizen Corps. That’s not gonna happen. The city has descended into anarchy.”

  “But we saw them secure the city early on,” said Katie.

  “Scary fast, in fact,” added Steven.

  “From the reports we’re receiving, a large part of D.C.’s population fled as riots broke out,” said Julia. “The government was effective in preventing an influx of people, but they couldn’t control the population that lived there. Government buildings were overrun and razed. It’s a war zone reminiscent of Georgia and Estonia.”

  Sarge brought their attention back to the map. “Region IV, which encompasses the Deep South, has enjoyed the greatest success. Its state’s governors have taken control and reestablished their legislatures and governments. Brad can confirm that the military in this region has backed the state governor’s efforts.”

  “We’ve talked about Region IV previously, something about the Confederacy,” said Susan.

  “That’s right,” said Sarge. “Citizen Corps Governor Cooper, a Tennessean, refused to obey some of the more onerous directives from the President, and he was replaced. That, coupled with an ill-conceived raid on homes outside of Atlanta, resulted in a coup of sorts. Patriots came from five states, banded together, and ran the Citizen Corps out of town. The entire southeast region is now preparing to govern itself.”

  “That’s great news!” exclaimed J.J., who had remained silent thus far.

  “It is, but there is still uncertainty,” said Sarge. “There isn’t a coordinated effort among the states. The ejection of the Citizen Corps and takeover by local governments is in its infancy. But their effort does bolster my hope that this can be duplicated. Fellow patriots are moving into other regions of greater Appalachia, which includes Oklahoma, Virginia, Missouri and the lower parts of Indiana, Illinois, and Ohio. They are prepared to take the fight to the Citizen Corps as well.”

  “We’re winning,” said Steven.

  “Yes, in some parts of the country, we are,” said Sarge. “It’s time for us to win our own neck of the woods, and then we’ll assist and advise others. The battle will begin here, in Boston, where it started two hundred and fifty years ago.”

  Sarge circled the city with his fingers. Then he added, “Choose freedom is more than a slogan. It will become a nationwide political movement.”

  Chapter 27

  Friday, October 28, 2016

  8:00 p.m.

  Prescott Peninsula

  Quabbin Reservoir, Massachusetts

  On this date in 1787, a series of eighty-five essays were published in the New York Independent newspaper under the pen name Publius. The authors, including Alexander Hamilton, James Madison, and the first chief justice of the United States, John Jay, set out to promote the ratification of the Constitution by providing a comprehensive and cogent explanation of the nation’s most sacred document. It was a series of both practical and philosophical dissertations.

  Sarge scrolled through The Federalist Papers, which Donald had downloaded onto a spare iPad. He had read the essays many times and incorporated their principles into his lectures and his bestselling book, Choose Freedom or Capitulation, America’s Sovereignty Crisis. Concepts of limited government, separation of powers, and the freedoms enumerated within the Bill of Rights were all addressed in these documents.

  Tonight, Sarge would incorporate some of these precepts in his first address to the nation via the Pigeon. This was an opportunity to raise Americans’ aspirations beyond survival or avoidance of oppression. He wanted to encourage them to bind together and return to the principles espoused by the Founding Fathers.

  He settled before the microphone, waiting for Julia’s signal. She had announced the speech to her vast network of patriotic groups across the country during the week. There was no way to know how many people would be reached via ham radio and across the AM band. It was a start that hopefully would grow legs each week. At eight o’clock, Sarge began.

  “My friends, my name is not important, but what I have to say is. Like you, I am an ordinary American who has survived the deliberate terrorist attack upon our nation. Like you, I have experienced death among my friends and family. And like you, I’ve survived.

  “I’m coming to you as an American who foresees a bigger threat—a threat that seeks to take our freedoms under the pretense of protection and recovery. While the attack on our nation has shaken our resolve, it has not broken our freedom-loving spirit. While the attack has prompted a suspension of our Constitutional rights, it has not permanently taken them away.

  “In the aftermath of this vicious attack, our President responded by implementing certain emergency responses and executive actions. I want to believe that our government’s response had our nation’s best interests in mind. However, rather than focusing on helping our injured or taking efforts to protect us in our homes, our government sought to gut our Second Amendment by confiscating our weapons.

  “Rather than marshaling its recovery
assets across the country, our government used the attack as an opportunity to level the playing field and right perceived social injustices. The President is picking and choosing who receives aid and who gets power restored based upon political alliances.

  “Rather than rebuilding our communities from the ground up, our government has undertaken to impose its oppressive controls from the top down.

  “My friends, America has stood down enemies before, from both within our shores and around the world. It’s now time to address the enemy within.

  “Tonight, I’m calling on my fellow patriots, freedom-loving Americans who value the sacrifices made by our Founding Fathers, to join me in saying enough is enough. Seek out like-minded friends and neighbors. Work together to stop the exercise of absolute power that has been employed pursuant to the Declaration of Martial Law.

  “Together, we can stand up to tyranny. We can bring our nation back to its former greatness. We can restore the freedoms granted under the Constitution.”

  Sarge paused, caught his breath, and looked at Julia for support.

  “I want to add the words of Thomas Jefferson. Experience has shown that even under the best forms of government, those entrusted with power have, in time, perverted it into tyranny.

  “I will conclude with this. When given the choice between tyranny and freedom, my friends, I ask you to choose freedom!”

  And with that first anonymous address to the nation, the political career of Henry Winthrop Sargent IV was born, as was the nationwide political movement with the rally cry choose freedom.

  Sarge also unknowingly became a fugitive from justice.

  Chapter 28

  Saturday, October 29, 2016

  10:12 a.m.

  Prescott Peninsula

  Quabbin Reservoir, Massachusetts

  “I think you nailed it last night, Sarge,” said Donald as he sipped his second cup of coffee. The raid on the Food Bank allowed for an extra cup now and then. The spoils of war.

  “I hope so,” said Sarge. “Julia has been monitoring global news networks through the Hughes Gen4 Internet, and supporters abroad are cheering. I hope those cheers translate to support and action here.”

  “How long will you have to remain anonymous?”

  “We need to gauge the government’s response. If drones start buzzing overhead, we’ll know we’ve got trouble. Besides, I want the movement to center on the message, not the messenger.”

  “Choose freedom,” said Donald.

  “Exactly.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Lowell began to approach them when shrieks came from near the boat launch. Susan’s cries for help grabbed everyone’s attention.

  “The girls!” shouted Donald as he broke out into a run so fast that he stumbled over a loose branch and rolled down the hill toward the path before he struck a log.

  “C’mon,” yelled Sarge as he passed Donald, who quickly regained his footing. There were more cries for help from Susan.

  “Mommy, it hurts,” cried Penny as the two men got closer to the boat launch clearing.

  “Susan!” shouted Donald. “We’re coming, honey!”

  “Hurry!”

  They entered the clearing and found Penny sitting on the ground with Susan hovering over her. One of the Marines stood nearby, wiping blood off his knife.

  “What happened?” asked Donald.

  “Snakebite. It’s bad.”

  Donald leaned down and took Penny’s face in his hands. “Try to stay calm, baby. I need you to relax, okay.”

  Sarge ran over to the Marine and found the source of the blood. A three-foot-long timber rattlesnake, now cut into three pieces, was still writhing on the pine needle floor of the woods.

  “Are you sure this is the snake?” asked Sarge.

  “I believe so, sir,” he replied. “I was standing watch by the dock when the little girl screamed. I ran up the bank and found the snake working its way to those fallen trees. I cut off its head and then sliced its torso in half. There’s the head.”

  The snake had a rough-skinned appearance that contained dark brown cross bands. The rattlers broad, triangular head was unmistakable. This was a venomous pit viper. Penny was in trouble.

  “It burns, Daddy!”

  “Donald, her leg is swelling up.”

  “Daddy, it hurts and my mouth tastes funny, like quarters and dimes.” Penny was trying to flex her leg as it became tighter.

  Donald had to calm her down. Stress increased the flow of blood, which would speed the process of sending venom throughout her tiny body.

  “Okay, my little punkin’, I know it hurts. But you have to be still and stay calm. We’ll get Uncle J.J. to fix you right up.”

  Donald turned his attention to Sarge. “Hey, get J.J. ready. I’m gonna carry her up to 1PP.”

  “Okay,” said Sarge before he ran through the woods.

  “Penny, honey, I’m going to gently pick you up. I want you to wrap your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist. Can you do that?”

  “I’m sorry, Daddy. I didn’t see it on the log.”

  Donald wiped her tears away and gave Susan a reassuring smile. He hoisted his daughter up and moved quickly up the path. A crowd had developed at the clearing, but they quickly gave way as Donald ran up the slight incline.

  J.J. was waiting for them on the front porch. “We’re ready, Donald. Penny, let’s get you inside and fixed up, okay?”

  Penny didn’t respond as she held her father’s neck tight. Inside J.J.’s medical room, Donald sat her on the examination table, which was propped upright like a dental chair.

  “We need to keep the bite below the level of her heart,” said J.J.

  Susan entered the room. “Let me help!”

  J.J. looked at Donald for assistance as he prepared a soapy water solution using antibacterial soap. He began wiping the area around the bite wound.

  Donald tried to calm Susan. “Honey, you’re pretty emotional. Abbie is right outside. Let her handle this with J.J.”

  “No way!” Susan bulled her way into the room and immediately brushed the hair out of Penny’s face.

  “Okay, Susan. While I’m doing this, create a diluted iodine solution.”

  “How much of each?” she asked.

  “Half and half, until the dilution is iced-tea color. We’ll flush the wound several times and then rinse it well with clean water. This will help remove any venom that isn’t deep in the wound.”

  J.J. nudged his way past Donald to a cabinet opposite the room. He emptied a shelf of its compression bandages. He also grabbed a tube of Neosporin.

  Penny began to cry again and wiggle in the chair. Donald moved to comfort her.

  First, he pulled a Sharpie out of a drawer and drew a circle around the bite. J.J. applied the antibiotic ointment, and then he systematically wrapped the compression bandages around her leg as if he were treating an orthopedic injury.

  “Bandaging begins two to four inches above the bite, winds around and then back down and past the wound. We have to be careful to avoid overtightening. This would cause her to reflexively move her leg and cause the venom to spread.”

  “J.J., chopper?” asked Brad through the doorway.

  Donald answered for him. “Yes.”

  Brad didn’t move. The Loyal Nine had an unspoken rule—don’t let an emotional decision overcome the best decision.

  After thinking for a moment, J.J. responded, “Yes, get the chopper ready. We’ll go to Mass General.”

  “One more thing,” started Brad. “While we’re being exposed, do you need to check out Mr. Morgan? Might as well get our money’s worth from this hospital visit.”

  “Good idea,” replied J.J. “Would you mind getting Abbie and her dad together?”

  “On it,” said Brad as he spun and headed toward the front door.

  J.J. continued to wrap Penny’s leg, going further up the leg than he might for other types of injuries.

  “Doesn’t she need a shot or something?” asked Susan. />
  “How much does she weigh, roughly?” asked J.J.

  “Around eighty-five pounds.”

  “Listen, the dosage of antivenin is tricky with children. I have a one-hundred-milliliter adult dose I can give her initially, but some tests need to be run at the hospital to determine follow-up doses.”

  J.J. administered the shot and put a Mickey Mouse Band-Aid on the spot. He checked her pulse and blood pressure. He also checked her for a fever.

  Brad returned and announced that the Sikorsky was ready.

  Donald approached him and whispered, “What about security?”

  “I’ve got Shore and three of my best men,” replied Brad, putting his hands on Donald’s shoulders. “Sarge and Julia will hitch a ride as well. Your girls will be in good hands, I promise.”

  Donald turned to Susan and gave her a hug. Her eyes welled up with tears.

  “She’s so small, Donald. I should never have let this happen to her.”

  “Honey, don’t worry. We live in the woods now. These things happen. J.J. will be with you. Sarge and Julia will be there also. It will be safe, and Penny will be okay.” Donald looked into J.J.’s eyes for reassurance. He didn’t want to make hollow promises, but J.J.’s smile confirmed his hopes. Venomous snake bites could be deadly especially for a young child. But Penny was treated within minutes of the bite, giving her a far better chance than others. A few hundred dollars’ worth of antivenin courtesy of the family’s vet probably saved his daughter’s life.

  Susan nodded and sniffled. “I love you.”

  Donald kissed his daughter on the cheek, and she managed a smile. “You get to ride with Mommy on a helicopter. J.J. will be there with you too.”

  “Is Becca going too?”

  “No, she’ll stay here and keep me company.”

  “Ha-ha. Stuck like chuck.”

  Chapter 29

  Saturday, October 29, 2016

  8:26 p.m.

  99 High Street Rooftop

  Boston, Massachusetts

  Ineffectual. Unproductive. Insufficient.