The Loyal Nine

by Bobby Akart

  “I have accumulated the best medical journals and illustrative guides available for our use in case of an emergency,” said J.J. “I hope nothing happens to me. If it does, you will have reference materials at your disposal. You will know how to conduct field triage, administer basic first aid and how to set broken bones. Sadly, there are tutorials for dealing with dead bodies. The dead create significant health hazards.”

  “You have all cooperated and provided me your used iPads and tablets,” said Donald. “I have downloaded hundreds of pdf files from the Internet, including checklists, military manuals on civil disturbances, survival guides and specific information on various government facilities. Every imaginable reference book has been included in the downloaded files. These are all safely secured in Faraday cages for our use in a grid down scenario.”

  Abbie and Brad made their way to a set of double doors to the right of the fireplace.

  “What’s in here?” asked Brad.

  “Don’t be shy, Brad, every good soldier appreciates a well-stocked mess hall,” said Susan. “This is the prepper pantry.”

  She walked over and opened the doors to a six-hundred-square-foot storage room. With the double doors opened, everyone could see steel shelves lined with foods, spices and condiments. Donald was proud of the time and effort Susan put into the planning of their food storage. He decided to let her take over.

  “The most important aspect of our food storage plan is to provide a balanced, high-caloric daily menu,” said Susan. “This shelf is dedicated to vitamins, minerals and supplements. After the event, America may be sent back a couple of hundred years with respect to every aspect of daily life.”

  “During a collapse event, food will become scarce or nonexistent,” added J.J. “Malnutrition will become an issue. Poor sanitation and lack of clean water can lead to dysentery. We have stored enough vitamins and tubs of protein powder to last all of us two years, with more downstairs.”

  “The remaining shelves contain boxed and canned foods with long shelf lives,” Susan continued. “We have placed a particular emphasis on whole grains like rice and oatmeal, more bean varieties than you knew existed, and canned vegetables with a high nutrient content. Because we are such a large group, we used fifty-pound bags for the dry goods and number ten cans for the vegetables.”

  “We have developed a spreadsheet, which we review every Monday,” said Donald. “If something goes out of date, then we donate it to a local homeless shelter and purchase a replacement.”

  “Where’s the chocolate?” asked Katie. “Sometimes a girl needs comfort foods.”

  She and Abbie locked arms in solidarity.

  “We’ve got you covered, ladies,” said Susan. “I had Penny and Rebecca in mind as well. Snacks include peanut butter, crackers, nuts, hard candies, chocolate pudding, Jell-O and Jiffy Pop popcorn—you know the kind that puffs up the aluminum foil.”

  “Coffee?” asked Steven. “I can’t function without it.”

  “No problem,” said Donald. “We have canned coffee and a ceramic campfire pot to brew it in. We also have a big variety of hot and cold tea. These are a great source of antioxidants.”

  Everyone laughed at the last reference. Sarge picked up on the irony of insuring their survival by stockpiling tea bags full of antioxidants. J.J. did as well.

  “Here’s the thing,” said J.J. “Depending upon the collapse scenario, life will be very dangerous. It would be a shame to survive bullets flying around our heads only to die from being malnourished.”

  “Yeah, let’s talk about bullets,” said Steven. “When do we get to the toys?”

  “I prefer to call them tools,” said Donald. “Let’s go down to the eighth floor.”

  Sarge watched as everyone talked among themselves. They seemed impressed with the preparations so far. The eighth floor was a shadow of its former self, as was the entire building. Morgan first approached Sarge in 2009 about the concept of preparedness when Morgan was considering the purchase of 100 Beacon Street. The building was in need of renovation, but one of the conditions of the Board of Zoning Appeals was that it be architecturally restored in a manner consistent with its original construction—dating back nearly one hundred years. Morgan retained ownership of the top three floors, with the intent to create an inner-city safe house during times of societal unrest. He wanted Sarge to oversee the renovations on his behalf, and occupy the top floor Penthouse. Morgan had a vision, and the group was seeing the result—in many ways.

  Everyone gathered at the bottom of the stairs. The eighth floor resembled a large commercial warehouse broken up into many smaller rooms. Each space had a distinct purpose and was separated by sound-insulated walls.

  “Steven, they’re all yours,” said Donald. Sarge stood to the side to allow Steven access to the gun vault.

  “Here’s where we keep the goodies,” said Steven.

  He placed his hand on the biometric scanner and then punched in an additional four-digit code. The door popped open and he pulled the handle.

  “We’ll make sure that everyone’s prints get scanned and give you the four-digit code. The dual system prevents someone from entering the vault if the code gets compromised—or if your hand does.” Steven paused for effect.

  “I’m just kidding, you guys, relax.” Steven laughed.

  Sarge knew he wasn’t kidding.

  “Come on,” said Steven.

  Brad and Katie entered first.

  “Holy shit!” exclaimed Brad. “My armory isn’t this impressive. The BATF would shit their pants over this, buddy.”

  As Brad circled the room, he ran his fingers along the myriad of weapons. Sarge was pleased with Brad’s reaction.

  “Here’s the bottom line,” said Steven. “If you can’t defend it, it isn’t yours. These weapons are the tools we need to defend ourselves. After the shit hits the fan, we won’t be able to run down to Boston Firearms and pick up a gun and some ammo. We have to arm ourselves, and possibly recruits, for battle. I have focused on weapons suitable to urban tactics. But I have also planned for other scenarios—such as abandoning the city.”

  “Just like our food stores and other supplies,” added Donald, “our weapons cache needs to be thorough.”

  “Correct,” said Steven. “Each of you, with the exceptions of Abbie and Brad, has versions of these weapons at home already. In case of a bug-out scenario requiring you to get here on short notice without returning home, we have one of each weapon, plus a backup, in this vault. Additionally, we have six of each type of weapon for any additional group members we take on board. Altogether, there are a minimum of twenty-four of each type of weapon, along with a humidity-controlled ammunition vault.” Nearly two hundred guns.

  “All of this brings to light a certain reality,” said Donald. “One of us might get shot or seriously injured. We’re lucky to have J.J. on board with his experience as a field trauma surgeon. You’ve seen it all, haven’t you, Doc?”

  “Follow me,” said J.J., who turned and started down the hallway.

  “After TEOTWAWKI, medical supplies will be scarce, and functioning hospitals even scarcer. Medications we take for granted will be gone. I’m a good doctor, but I’m only as good as my equipment.”

  “J.J. and I have joked that the first place to get looted after the collapse will be the drug store,” said Susan. “The addicts will be looking for painkillers, and the preppers will be looking for antibiotics.”

  “Very true, which is why we keep this place a well-kept secret,” said J.J. “With Donald’s assistance, I have created a fully functional field trauma facility. We have equipment for resuscitation and life support, including a ventilator, a cardiac monitor combined with a defibrillator, and IV administration devices. We even have a portable ultrasound machine. Your father has supported us all the way, Abbie.”

  “He has a lot of respect for you, J.J., and your family,” said Abbie.

  Sarge knew Abbie was making a point. J.J. was estranged from his father. His moth
er had passed away years ago, and the elder Dr. Warren never forgave J.J. for joining the military. The Warrens were the founders of Harvard Medical, descendants of field surgeons at the battle of Bunker Hill. J.J.’s father was one of the Boston Brahmin, but the two didn’t speak. Sarge was certain John Morgan wanted to remedy the situation at some point.

  “Thanks, Abbie,” said J.J.

  “Are those for us?” asked Katie, pointing to a rack of olive drab medical packs.

  “Yes, each of you will have an extensive first aid kit to supplement what I have provided you already. I suggest you stow this with your other gear, but be prepared to grab it on a moment’s notice. Brad and Abbie, as we know, have access to medical facilities unavailable to the rest of us after a collapse event. While Katie is in D.C., post-collapse medical treatment is undetermined, so I have prepared a bag for her,” said JJ.

  “All of your get-home bags are current based upon our last meeting,” said Donald. “This medical kit will supplement what you already have in them. Also, before I forget, Sarge and I agree we should conceal-carry anytime we leave the house—no exceptions. After recent incidents, we need to protect ourselves at all times. Please do not leave home without a concealed weapon.”

  “Hey, I want one of those Mont Blanc fountain pens, Sarge,” said Brad. “Steven told me you broke the tip off in the guy’s neck. That’s how the police apprehended him at the hospital.”

  “Yeah, Boston CSI had fun matching up the nib to what was left of the pen’s barrel,” said Sarge. “I tell you what, Brad, I’ll buy you a pen if you’ll trade me some of your artillery.”

  “Deal,” replied Brad.

  Donald led them out of J.J.’s infirmary.

  “This entire side of the building is storage,” said Donald. “We have long-term food storage for up to five years. There are duplicate supplies related to medical, safety and sanitation.”

  “Yeah, we have shit tons of toilet paper,” said Steven.

  Sarge kicked him in the ass.

  “One room has several thousand gallons of stored bottled water,” said Susan. “Sarge also had a rain catchment cistern installed on the roof. We will have to purify the water for drinking or cooking. We’ve tried to think of everything.”

  “As you guys know, along with the girls, prepping is my life,” said Donald. “Abbie’s dad has charged me—us, with a great responsibility. We will have quite a few lives in our hands should we experience a significant collapse event. Every morning when I wake up I ask myself—if the shit hit the fan while I was asleep, what prep do I wish I had—and then I go get it.”

  “What did you wish for this morning, buddy?” asked J.J.

  “I hoped we would never have to put all of this stuff to use. After today, my hope is fading further.”

  Chapter 57

  April 18, 2016

  100 Beacon, Rooftop Terrace

  Boston, Massachusetts

  Sarge topped off his champagne glass. This evening was not originally planned to last this long, but widespread reports of rioting and runaway fires throughout Boston caused his guests to reconsider his offer to stay another night. Abbie convinced her security detail she was safer at 100 Beacon than any place they might want to take her. The group was as relaxed as they could be given the circumstances. Sipping champagne felt awkward, but they had every reason to rejoice in their success. They were committed to protecting each other and their extended families—the Boston Brahmin. In times of unrest, history must be preserved, and like the Boston Brahmin, most of them were the direct descendants of the Founding Fathers. They had a vested interest in preserving the work of their forefathers, and the right to celebrate their initial accomplishment.

  “The news reports of unrest are not exaggerated this time,” said Susan. “It appears most of the southern part of the city is ablaze.”

  The group observed at least a dozen large blazes in the southern areas of Boston, likely enveloping Roxbury, Dorchester and Mattapan. Boston lay in the prevailing westerlies, so smoke could be seen blowing across South Boston towards the Atlantic. The sounds of sirens filled the air as first responders from all over the city rushed to assist. According to news reports, there were currently six 9-alarm fires on the south side.

  “These events are becoming all too common across the nation,” said Abbie. “When I talk to my colleagues in the Senate, from all political persuasions, they agree there is a feeling of malaise and hopelessness spreading across their home states. The polls provided to me the other day reveal the nation’s low morale. What we’re beginning to witness is a nation that has lost hope. This has turned to anger for many.”

  “Whether by design or by chance, the American people have turned to their government, looking for answers,” said Julia. “Reliance on government support has overwhelmed the system. People in despair don’t realize the government is doomed to fail them. Our system of government was not designed to be the cradle-to-grave provider its citizens have come to expect. They will demand more of the government, and with all due respect, Abbie, politicians will try to provide for their constituents. How long will it be before taxes will have to be significantly raised and the taxpayers pitch a fit?”

  “Exactly,” said Katie. “It’s just a matter of time before class warfare becomes the headline of the day—the makers versus the takers.”

  “History can repeat itself, right, Donald?” asked Sarge.

  “It’s ironic that the nine of us are having this conversation on one of the most important dates in American history,” said Donald. “On this night in 1775, Paul Revere and William Dawes left on horseback to warn their patriot comrades about the British advance on Concord and Lexington. Revere left from the Old North Church.”

  Donald directed everyone’s attention up the Charles River toward the north side of Boston.

  “Historically, Dawes was lesser known, though he was equally important as a patriot,” said Donald. “Dawes was directed by Dr. Warren, J.J.’s ancestor, to travel a southerly route through Roxbury and Brookline. He crossed the river near the site of the Cambridge Bridge.”

  Donald drew the circuitous route in the air and walked to the edge of the roof, where he pointed towards Harvard.

  “Both of the men evaded detection and capture until their mission was nearly complete,” said Donald. “Revere was captured by a British patrol, and Dawes lost his horse, walking the rest of the way to Lexington. A third rider, young Samuel Prescott, rode on to Concord with Revere’s message.

  “On the morning of April nineteenth, tomorrow, seven hundred British troops arrived at Lexington,” continued Donald. “Captain John Parker and his seventy-seven-man militia were waiting on Lexington’s common. They were greatly outnumbered. Without warning, an unknown musket fired the shot heard around the world. Eight of Captain Parker’s men died to only one British soldier. Arguably, the patriots lost the Battle of Lexington. But the American Revolution, our fight for freedom, had begun—and we won against all odds.”

  Everyone stood in silence, taking in the moment.

  “The nine of us are a family,” said Sarge. “Our ideals and goals are no different than the patriots who banded together in the 1760s against an oppressive, tyrannical government that did not consider the best interests of its citizens. I believe our nation has become what our forefathers fought so bravely to resist. Tyranny and anarchy are never far apart. Thomas Jefferson recognized this when he said even under the best forms of government those entrusted with power have perverted it into tyranny.

  “We will protect each other until our dying day. I think we all know that in our hearts. We also have roots dating back to the founding of our nation. Like you, I love this country and I hate seeing what is happening to it. I believe it is destined for collapse. I don’t believe the nine of us alone have the power to save it, but we’re no different than the nine patriots that stood up for freedom nearly two hundred and fifty years ago. Like those nine Bostonians, we will face challenges, and like our Founding Father
s, when faced with the choice between compromising our principles or choosing freedom—we will choose freedom.”

  “I have something to give everyone,” interjected Brad. “We wear uniforms in the military to honor traditions and mark our branch of service. The nine of us may not wear a uniform as we fight this battle—in whatever form it takes—but we should have a symbol of our loyalty to each other and the noble purpose to which we’ve devoted our lives.”

  Brad handed out embroidered patches of a flag featuring five red and four white alternating stripes.

  “This is the rebellious stripes flag,” said Brad. “This became a symbol of freedom to the patriots who founded our nation. When Bostonians gathered at the Liberty Tree near Boston Common in 1765 to protest burdensome taxation, a clear message was sent to the British government. In 1767, a flagpole was erected next to the Liberty Tree, and the Rebellious Flag was raised. The Rebellious Flag and the Liberty Tree witnessed historic meetings, fiery speeches and celebrations for the early patriots who became known as the Sons of Liberty. This is our past. This is also our future.”

  “We are a modern-day Knights Templar,” said Sarge. “Our mission should be to protect America and its republic from those who would inflict tyranny upon her. This group of nine Americans is loyal to our country and each other. I suggest a tribute to the original nine members of the Sons of Liberty, who had the vision and strength to persevere against all odds to give us the freedoms we enjoy. I propose a toast to us—the Loyal Nine.”

  The Loyal Nine!

  “Like our forefathers before us, the Loyal Nine grew from a few voices into a legion of patriots throughout America. There will be many who join us in the challenge to preserve freedom. To all of those who will join us in the fight against tyranny and for the preservation of our freedoms, I propose a toast they be included with us as—the Mechanics.”