by Glen Tate
Ben was almost in a trance watching his seven year old and four year old playing. He marveled at how innocent they were. They had no idea that the country they were born in was over. They would probably never know what liberty was.
“Unless the good guys won,” Ben heard himself say. Right then and there, Ben decided that he would do whatever it took to give his country back to his kids. He would do it for them. He had been hoping that things would just work themselves out politically, but the past few days proved that would likely never happen.
Derek was doing a great job of keeping the kids calm. He knew exactly what was going on. When the kids would ask why they were going to a farm and when they could come back home, he would change the subject.
Ben, Tom, and Brian got together in the garage. “Did everyone bring their guns?” Tom asked, pointing to the pistol tucked in his belt. Ben and Brian nodded. “On you?” Ben nodded. Brian didn’t.
“Karen doesn’t know I have that,” Brian said. “It’s in my suitcase.”
“Not good enough,” Ben said. “It needs to be on you,” he said, pointing to right cargo pocket on his shorts. “Your wife being pissed at you about a gun is the least of your concerns right now.”
Brian was embarrassed. “You’re right. I’ll get it.” To redeem himself with the guys, he said, “I brought my shotgun and all the shells I have.” Brian’s dad had given it to him in high school for duck hunting.
Some of the kids came into the garage, breaking up the secret meeting. The guys went into the house to round everyone up, and didn’t talk too much about what was happening. They didn’t want to alarm their wives and children, and had decided to not tell the wives about the POI thing, although they knew it was only a matter of time before Joyce told them. The guys went over the route out to the Prossers’, which was about ten miles away.
“Do the Prossers know we’re coming now?” Joyce asked Tom. Nope. Tom grabbed his cell phone and said, “Thanks.”
Tom started to dial Jeff’s number. Then he dropped the phone. Duh. Calling Jeff’s phone would lead the authorities right to the farm.
“They’ll be expecting us,” Tom said. He picked up his phone and tried to act like he accidently dropped it so Joyce wouldn’t get more concerned about the police trying to find them.
Tom had a mischievous idea. He dialed the office numbers of some government officials he hated. Now, if the cops pulled up Tom’s phone records, the people he hated would be “terrorists,” too. Ha! The cops would be thrown off his trail, trying to figure out if those asshole government officials were “terrorists.” Tom didn’t feel an ounce of guilt.
“OK, let’s go,” said Tom. They all piled into their vehicles, and left Tom’s neighborhood through back streets so they wouldn’t have to go near downtown. Tom was especially trying to avoid the area around the WAB offices so none of them would see the burned out building. That would be too much for them. It was too much for Tom, too.
The drive to the Prosser farm was anti-climactic. There was hardly any traffic. No cop cars. There were a few other cars packed to the gills with families bugging out to somewhere.
Tom led them there very efficiently, providing signals plenty of time in advance in case someone didn’t remember how to get there. He stopped at yellow lights so he wouldn’t leave half the convoy stranded behind. Before they left, he had told them to run a red light rather than split up the group. It didn’t take long to go the ten miles to the farm, and the kids were doing just fine.
Jeff Prosser was waiting at the gate with his 30-30. He knew Tom and the others would be coming; he just wasn’t sure exactly when. And he figured that if they weren’t coming, he still needed to be guarding the place. Things were crazy; he couldn’t just sit around his house. He had to do something, and guarding the gate with his 30-30 seemed like the right thing to do.
Jeff saw some cars coming down the road; they were recognizable. He had a huge smile on his face. This was actually happening. He was helping his friends hide out. The mailroom guy to the rescue!
Jeff waved to them and opened the gate, which was at the entrance to Prosser Road. The Prosser family had owned this land for about a hundred years. Prosser Road led to a half dozen houses, including Jeff and Molly Prosser’s farm. The other houses were owned by relatives of the Prossers. They were a tight community.
The Prosser farmhouse was on a slight hill with a barn and two more outbuildings. There was a fence all around the property. There were a few other farmhouses around. This place was extremely defensible.
Each car slowly passed by him. The third car was Karen’s. She was upset that Jeff was standing there with a gun; she feared that would scare the kids. But the kids weren’t scared at all. They were relieved that they recognized the guy with the gun.
Molly heard and saw the cars coming. Since there weren’t any gun shots, it must be their guests. Wow. That was an unusual thought. She wondered if she’d ever thought such a thing. Nope.
Molly tried to mentally prepare herself to have three families of houseguests coming for the next…who knew how long. She was glad to have them there. Her farmhouse was modest compared to the other families’ suburban homes. She had always been bothered by this. Not that she was jealous—she loved her farmhouse just the way it was—but she couldn’t help wondering if she’d measure up to the other wives. After Jeff told her they might be coming, she spent the entire day and into the night getting things ready for her guests. She got out sheets and blankets and figured which rooms would have kids and which would have couples. She got lots of food out of storage; she got the “store bought” food out first because that’s what the other families would be used to. She was ready to feed her guests. The families probably had been up all night and were stressed; nothing would be better than something to eat before they unpacked at their new quarters.
Molly went toward the front door and caught a glimpse of herself in the entryway mirror. She saw that she was wearing her best casual outfit. She was trying to impress. She laughed to herself and realized she would impress them by having a safe place for them to stay until this was all over. That mattered a whole lot more than clothes.
The families came into the house carload by carload. They were all relieved to get to the farm safely. The kids started running around with nervous energy. They wanted to see the horses and cows. Molly showed each family their rooms. There were enough rooms for everyone, but just barely. The couples had a room to themselves, and then all the kids split two rooms, one for boys and one for girls. Molly was proud that her farmhouse could become a comfortable place for three additional families to stay.
“Who’s hungry?” she asked. The kids all said they were. The grownups were busy unpacking. “Come on in here and I’ll make you a farm breakfast.”
After everything was unpacked, Jeff motioned the guys to come into the barn to talk. “Is everyone armed?” he asked. They all nodded.
“We each have a Sig in 9mm, and Brian has a shotgun and some shells,” Ben said.
“How much 9mm do you have?” Jeff asked.
“I got,” Tom said, “I dunno, ten or twelve boxes of shells from that gun store Grant always went to.” At fifty rounds per box, that was a decent amount of ammo. Especially since they didn’t plan on shooting much, or really at all.
“I have some rifles and shotguns. You guys know how to use them?” Jeff asked.
Brian nodded. Ben and Tom halfway nodded. Jeff made a mental note that he’d need to show them how to use them.
“Hey, Jeff, we’ll need to park our cars out of sight,” Tom said.
“Why?” Jeff asked.
Tom explained the POI list.
“Oh, that’s why,” Jeff said, trying to downplay the significance. Jeff knew he was doing them a favor by letting them stay out there, but now he was harboring fugitives. They weren’t fugitives, Jeff corrected himself. They were his friends who needed help. Besides, Jeff had decided long ago that he was going to do something for the war.
Tom could sense that Jeff was trying to process the whole “terrorist” thing. “If the POI listing is a problem,” Tom said, “we can go. We don’t want to put you in a bad spot.”
“Go?” Jeff said. “Hell, no. You’re my friends. You’re in trouble. I can help. Besides, we get about one stranger a year down this road. They are usually lost. The other houses around here are families we’ve known for years. They’re more conservative than you guys. You’ll be fine out here,” Jeff said, hoping it was true. Oh well. Jeff knew he’d die someday. Might as well be helping his friends.
He was proud to tell them the next part. “We have enough food out here for several weeks for all of us; maybe a couple of months. And we can grow enough for next year. Easy. We can everything from our garden and butcher our own meat. We have milk cows. We have all kinds of food stored out here. I figured something like this was coming long ago, so we’ve been preparing for a while. We’ve been getting extra of things we knew we’d eat, like canned foods. Got ‘em on sale, even. Worked out pretty well.” That was an understatement.
Then Jeff got a really big smile. He pointed to what looked like a gas station pump out by the house. “See that? It’s my diesel tank. I have almost 500 gallons in an underground tank. It’s for my equipment, but my truck runs on diesel, too.” He was beaming. “We don’t have to worry about the gas stations being out of gas.”
This place was perfect. It was almost like it was meant to be a sanctuary for them.
Chapter 75
Don’t Come Back Here
(May 7)
Nancy Ringman had gone insane. After she got in the fight with Lisa Matson, she went over to Sherrie Spencer’s and started screaming about how Lisa had attacked her. Nancy was yelling about Grant being a terrorist and “POI.”
She went from house to house telling people that they needed to come to the neighborhood meeting that night to hear about how she would be organizing a safety committee to protect them against terrorists like Grant. Most people just stared at her, but some believed her.
Ron Spencer was standing guard at the neighborhood entrance when Nancy came by. She was yelling at him about having a gun out. He’d had enough.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he yelled at Nancy. “I heard you attacked Lisa Matson and now she has left.”
Nancy started in about how Lisa had attacked her. Ron knew that wasn’t true. Nancy started yelling, “It’s you and your guns that are doing this. Things were fine until you and the others started all this macho stuff, like ‘guarding’ us. We don’t need you. Things were fine without you.”
Ron could see that there was no reasoning with her. He didn’t want to be distracted with a crazy lady when he had to watch to see if criminals were attacking, so he waved her off.
Ron was on guard duty for another hour or two when Len came running up to him.
“The Matson house got vandalized,” Len said, breathless. “Go see. I’ll take guard duty.”
Ron ran the two blocks to the Matson house. He rounded the corner and saw “POI” spray painted in big letters on the garage door. The front door was open. He went in, with his shotgun ready for quick use in case the vandal was still in there.
He couldn’t believe it. The house was trashed. Everything was destroyed. It looked like a bomb went off in the place. He had been in that house so many times, and now it was destroyed.
It was ugly in there. He wanted to leave. Before he did, he searched each room to see if the vandal, who he suspected was Nancy, was still in there. She was nuts and might try to attack him, too. The house was empty.
Now that he knew Nancy wasn’t there to attack him, he had time to think. Lisa needed to know what happened. He pulled out his cell phone and took pictures of the destruction. He sent them to Lisa’s cell phone. The message said, “Don’t come back here.”
He ran out of the house. He had to go arrest Nancy.
Chapter 76
You May Leave, Colonel
(May 7)
NorthCom was trying to keep control of the military units in the U.S. Most were just scrambling with the relief efforts. They didn’t have time to think about politics right then.
Oath Keepers kicked into action. Its thousands of members refused to comply with unconstitutional orders. Some of those orders were the order to arrest “terrorists,” including U.S. citizens on U.S. soil, who had been designated as terrorists by the President (but in reality were just names on a list compiled by military and law enforcement and civilian politicians). They were to be held indefinitely and without trial. Without trial. In military custody; not the civilian court system. That had been authorized by the 2011 National Defense Authorization Act.
Major Bill Ownes, a military lawyer in the Texas Guard, was one of the thousands of Oath Keepers. There was a meeting of San Antonio-area Texas Guard senior officers, which included Bill. NorthCom briefed them on what was happening and what was about to happen. The NorthCom colonel said that they had activated their plan for combating “civil unrest,” which included seizing civilian weapons, setting up checkpoints, and searches without warrants. The colonel asked if there were any questions. Bill felt a strange calmness and raised his hand.
“I’m JAG,” Bill said, referring to the acronym of a military lawyer, “and have to ask how this is possibly legal, sir.” The colonel seemed annoyed. Who was this major to be questioning him like that?
“The President signed an Executive Order under his war powers,” the colonel responded. “Surely,” the colonel strained to see Bill’s rank insignia, “Major, you understand the President’s broad war powers.”
“Yes, sir,” Bill said. “But he is still subject to the Constitution, which includes the Second and Fourth Amendments. The Treason clause requires a civilian trial for making war on the United States, so the NDAA power for the President to detain ‘terrorists’ in military custody is unconstitutional, sir.”
Silence.
Bill continued, “These measures you at NorthCom describe, sir, would be unlawful orders and none of us need to follow them. In fact, it would actually be illegal to follow them.”
The colonel knew this was coming. They had been dealing with these Oath Keepers assholes in every unit. This major was about to lose his commission.
“You’re done talking, Major,” the colonel barked. “You’re wrong. Our legal staff at the Pentagon has researched this. It’s entirely legal. The NDAA and Insurrection Act allows this. And you will obey a direct order, Major.”
More silence.
Bill stood up. He could not believe how calm he was.
“No, sir,” Bill said. “I will not obey an illegal order.” Bill stood at attention. He now realized the meaning of the phrase “stand up for your rights.” He was literally doing it.
More silence. The colonel was trying to stare him down.
The Texas Guard commander, a brigadier general, spoke up.
“Major Owens is one of my best legal advisors, and I think he’s right,” the Texas Guard general said. “My men will not follow these orders. They are illegal. Is there anything else NorthCom wishes to tell us, Colonel?”
The general had already spoken extensively with the Texas Governor, who was the Guard’s general commander. The general had told the Governor that none of the guard units would follow this federal nonsense. The Texas Governor had watched the Feds botch the Mexican refugee fiasco and he wasn’t about to let them screw up more.
“You may leave, Colonel,” the Texas Guard general said.
Everyone in the room realized that, at that moment, they were witnessing the beginning of the Second Texas Republic.
Chapter 77
Tim
e to Tuck
(May 7)
It was getting dark and Grant was wide awake. He’d slept most of the day, and was elated by the arrival of his family and the Team. There was no way he could sleep now. Besides, he had guard duty.
Chip came up to him with a cup of coffee. Grant reached for it, assuming it was for him. Chip shook his head. “Not for you. For me.” That seemed strange.
“OK, but how can you sleep when you’re drinking coffee at night?” Grant asked.
“I’m not going to sleep,” Chip said. “I’m going to pull guard duty. You need to settle your family in.” Chip smiled. He knew that Grant’s real family had arrived. Chip would be part of this family, too; just an extended member of it.
Grant started to tear up. Why? It was nice and everything for Chip to take his guard shift, but why tear up? Everything was just so emotional at that moment. Grant collected his composure and said, “Thanks, man. I mean, really, thanks.”
Chip just smiled wider and nodded. He grabbed his AR and did a press check of his 1911. “Gotta go.” He walked a few steps and then turned to Grant, “I’m proud of you, man. You left your family when you had to. You weren’t some pussy just crying in the corner of your suburban home when the shit hit the fan. You were a man. And it’s working out well for you.” Chip turned and kept walking to the guard shack.
Grant got choked up. He had to admit it: he was proud of the stand he’d taken. but his mind shifted to thinking of all they had to do out there to make sure they made it.
Where to start? Grant thought. He needed to get people settled in. He started, of course, with his own family. He found Lisa and said, “I’m thinking that you and I get the downstairs bedroom that has a door.” It had a comfy queen size bed. Grant had got it at a garage sale for $100 and it was like new. He remembered when he got it thinking that he might need to sleep on this for several years out there so he better get a good one.
