Collective Retribution

by Edwards, D. S.

  “About two weeks ago, a group of military transport vehicles rolled into town and dropped off over three hundred men, women, and children at the fairgrounds. Some trucks were American military, while others were United Nations trucks. Some had logos on them I didn’t recognize. There were stocks of wheat with U.C. over them in bold, black letters. Soldiers were going door to door all over Boise. They were taking everyone’s guns and ammunition. Somehow they knew what kinds of guns were in each home. People were being told to temporarily leave their homes and to pack only their clothing and personal items. All food and water, as well as sanitary items such as toilet tissue and women’s feminine products, were to be left behind. They told people they’d be allowed to return to their homes when an inventory was taken. Some people resisted and were subdued and placed in handcuffs, then forced onto the trucks. Some people got violent and were shot and left to rot in the sun. Every house was then completely cleaned out, and all food and other items were put onto the trucks.

  “I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. They took firearms, knives, and tools, plus everyday items and all the food. They even took all books and magazines of a religious nature, Bibles, Korans, Torahs. They were all bagged up and taken away. My boys here watched a pastor friend of mine try and protest when they took his Bibles and song books from his church.”

  Ellison suddenly stopped his rapid-fire delivery and stared into his coffee cup.

  “They shot him,” he choked out. “They knocked him down, put a gun against his head, and shot him.”

  Everyone sat quietly, staring into their own coffee cups, until Bill broke the silence.

  “Why would they take all the books?”

  Nirsch answered, an image of Nazi Germany flooding his mind. “I’m pretty sure they took all religious literature to make sure faith and hope are kept to a minimum. What I mean by that is when people have faith, hope, and knowledge, it empowers them, teaches them. It could embolden them to action. A naïve, uninformed people is a controllable people.”

  “There’s more,” Ellison said. “They were also bringing in equipment and semi-truck loads of fencing.” He rubbed his temples and took a long drink of coffee. “They’re locking everyone in. No one will be allowed outside the fence. We only had a few days’ warning to prepare for them coming. They dropped flyers from a helicopter before they came. They say they’re there to help.”

  Chad took a tattered piece of paper from his pocket, handed it to Nirsch, and continued.

  “After Pastor Moore was killed, we slipped out, stole some horses, and took off in the dark. There’s one other thing I thought was strange. All the troops have different uniforms. They all have the same symbols on them, but they’re colored differently. From what I could tell, they aren’t all American. While I was making my way to get my family before we left, I was sure I heard Russian and maybe German being spoken by some of the troops.”

  “Russians? Germans?” Nirsch said.

  “Yes. The foreigners seem to be working alongside Americans.”

  This piece of information made Nirsch’s blood boil. He’d spent his entire career protecting American citizens from foreign invaders and covert operatives. Now it seemed that Hartley had all but flushed his efforts down the toilet.

  Chad pointed at the paper he’d given Nirsch. “I honestly thought that it wasn’t real the first time I read it.”

  Nirsch unfolded the paper with trembling fingers. Large, black letters were printed over the image of a golden bundle of wheat on top of a tattered stars-and-stripes background fading into a sunset.

  Nirsch read the entire document twice, hoping to find something positive or encouraging. The words “The United States as we knew it could no longer stand” burned into his mind. He felt sick and sat back in his chair.

  It had actually happened. The United States of America had completely lost all sovereignty. Nirsch knew that those in charge would try to control natural resources and food, but he didn’t expect it would go this far or happen this fast. People’s choices and freedoms were rapidly disappearing. The only free people were those who hadn’t been found yet.

  Image after image flashed in his mind. George Washington crossing the Delaware. Abraham Lincoln delivering the Gettysburg Address. Long lines of covered wagons carrying the bold across prairies to a new home in the West. French people flooding the streets of Paris, cheering for those who had liberated them from the tyranny of Adolf Hitler. American troops raising the flag on Iwo Jima during World War II. General MacArthur riding in a jeep to the peace talks in Panmunjom. Soldiers returning home from Vietnam. Ronald Reagan giving a speech after American hostages were rescued from Iran, then again from the Berlin Wall as the Soviet Union fell Dirty faces of firefighters and police officers as they fled from the collapsing towers of the World Trade Center. The statue of Saddam Hussein tumbling to the ground in Baghdad. It was as if all those pieces of history had been instantly erased, thrown away by an insane egomaniac. United Collective? This tyrant was destroying the Constitution that Nirsch and others had sacrificed so much of their lives protecting.

  Nirsch realized they would have to fight. They would have to gather together and organize, and they would have to do it quickly. No matter the diversity and conflict America faced, the common thread that held its people together was freedom. Unlike anywhere else in the world, the citizens of the United States were truly a free people. Whenever Americans faced challenges on a grand scale, they always came together and faced those challenges unified and with passion. Nirsch had no doubts. The people of America would come together again and face this threat with courage, resolve, and unshakable faith.

  He caught his breath, regained his composure, stood, and addressed the group seated in his living room. The living room in the house he’d planned to live in until he grew old. The house far from destruction, war, and oppression, the house he would now have to leave to once again fight for the freedom of the innocent.

  “For me, the choice is clear. I have to fight. I will not sit by and allow the ideals and dream of America to die. Anyone who doesn’t want to fight is free to make that choice. If you do feel you need to defend the country we all love, we need to plan, organize, and recruit. We need to do it quickly and quietly. Those in power have all the modern weaponry, technology, and manpower.”

  Nirsch knew that more than two hundred thousand people lived in Boise before the attacks. It was one of the largest cities west of the Rocky Mountains. If the troops were few enough and spread out enough, they had a chance. If they could get the people already inside the fence to fight from within, they would have an even better chance.

  Nirsch addressed Ellison. “How many soldiers would you say are in Boise?”

  Ellison thought for a few seconds. “I was never great at math,” he said, “but if I had to guess, I’d say at least three thousand. It looked like they were setting up their main camp near the fairgrounds.”

  Suddenly Nirsch had the strong urge to sit again. Three thousand? How could a few people from a couple of small towns go up against three thousand trained troops and expect to accomplish anything?

  Yet the answer was simple. They had two things these troops did not have. They had desperation and they had faith in the idea that had been America. If Nirsch could give these men in his living room faith, confidence, and hope, it would spread to anyone they came in contact with. The men and women they would be leading would also have that hope and faith. This would be their advantage.

  “For now we have the benefit of surprise,” he said. “If we use it correctly, we can gain some of their weapons and technology. We can build momentum as we go. I think we should all talk to our families and meet back here tomorrow morning to begin planning. If you don’t show up tomorrow, I will understand. Either way, tomorrow it begins.”

  “I’m in,” Bill said.

  “I’m in too,” Larry said. “All of this”—he gestured at this circle of new friends—“means nothing if we lose our country.”

&
nbsp; Pat stood and smiled. “I’ll go home and talk to the family, but you can definitely count me in. I’m pretty sure Brett will be with me tomorrow morning too.”

  Nirsch groaned inside. Jillian wasn’t going to be very happy with him. Brett had asked her to marry him a few days after the incident at the Beckers’ ranch, and she’d said yes. She’d been walking on a cloud with a smile on her face ever since. The date had been set for July. Nirsch had begun building them their own house up the canyon a couple of miles, and they were planning on riding into the Strawberry Wilderness to fish and camp on their honeymoon. Now he was going to take the love of her life off to war.

  Nirsch groaned again. Michelle might be more upset with me than Jillian. His wife had seemed as excited about the wedding, if not more, as Jillian. Planning, altering her dress for Jillian, and counting on grandchildren by next spring. Adam would also be upset. The elk would be bugling in the high country in a few months. Nirsch had promised to teach him how to call them in and how to bow-hunt. They’d been spending evenings in front of the fire, building his first longbow and practicing their calls.

  But there were no other options. It wasn’t just his country, but his future that was being taken away. It was his children’s and grandchildren’s country and future too.

  Nirsch said his goodbyes to the group in the living room and spent the rest of the day explaining things to his family. They were far more understanding than he expected. That evening, he and Adam worked on the bow and practiced calls until 2 A.M., when Michelle finally sent them to bed. Nirsch hoped it wasn’t the last time he’d enjoy an evening like this with his son.

  After breakfast the next morning, Nirsch spread his maps out on the kitchen table. He had forest maps showing all the dirt roads in Oregon, Idaho, and Montana. They’d have to spend a day or two visiting all the people they could get to in Grant County. After they raised a big enough group, they’d have to find the most secluded route to Boise. Their best chance of getting weaponry and equipment to continue their fight against the U.C. would be there. It was probably the closest place where resources were being concentrated. It was also surrounded by mountains and rivers, which would make it easier to get close enough to strike before they were discovered.

  Everyone who’d been there the day before showed up, along with Brett Hanson. Nirsch laid out a plan. He spoke first to Chad Ellison.

  “Chad, what I’m about to ask you to do will be the most dangerous part of our planning. It will also be the most important. How quickly could you and your boys get back to Boise?”

  Ellison turned white. He had a hard time getting his words out. “We made it here in about thirteen days. Now that I know the route, I suppose we could be back there in no more than ten or eleven days.”

  “The only chance we have of taking Boise,” Nirsch said, “is if the American troops and the citizens already there join us. You know your way around Boise, and you know how everything works there. You have the best chance to make contact with the soldiers and people and gain their support without being caught.”

  Nirsch could see Ellison knew he was right. Chad sighed and dropped his shoulders. “We’ll go back to Boise.”

  “Make contact with as many as you can, and tell them to be ready at dawn, exactly three weeks from today. We’ll strike from the north and from the river on the south. I have dynamite in my shed I use to clear beaver dams. Take as much as you can carry and stash it once you get back to town. You’ll need to be ready to place it at both ends and clear the fence when the attack begins. If you can place some around their barracks where it will do the most damage, that will help a lot. The more confusion and chaos we can create, the better our chances of victory. You should start out as soon as possible. Bill will show you where the dynamite is and how to set the blasting caps.”

  Bill led Chad and his boys out to the shed. Nirsch addressed the remaining members of the group.

  “As for the rest of us, we’ll head out in teams of two. We’ll go as far as the Whitaker place on the north end of Bear Valley and the Mortons’ on the south end. I’ll send Bill into Burns to start spreading the word, and Larry, you’ll go into John Day with me and we’ll do the same. Try not to linger too long at each ranch. They’ll have questions, but they can all be answered when we get together in Burns and John Day. Tell everyone we’ll meet with them on Sunday. Let’s meet back here Monday and see how we all did.

  Nirsch paused to look each man in the eyes. “Stay alert, guys. If something doesn’t look right, skip that ranch and move to the next. If you see any strangers, avoid them. Use caution when riding. Keep off the roads and stay in the brush as much as you can. I haven’t seen any sign of the troops Chad was telling us about, but it doesn’t mean they aren’t around or on their way. If you’re caught, you could completely ruin any chance of fighting back. If you hear any vehicles, hide. I think I’m the only local with any running vehicles for a long ways.”

  There were handshakes and slaps on the back all around the Nirschell living room. These men, Nirsch’s neighbors and friends, were willing to risk their lives and lose everything they’d fought so hard to build here. They would risk for people they didn’t even know. They risked for freedom, the fundamental right to exist as free people and make their own choices. They risked so they could work for the satisfaction of building a better life, not just survive with no hope of a better future for their children or grandchildren.

  They would have to fight to once again build America. This time it would not be from scratch. America didn’t need great thinkers like Jefferson, Washington, and Adams. They already laid the groundwork in the beginning. Modern thinkers had been a detriment by overthinking, Nirsch believed. Everything was overanalyzed. There had been too much emphasis on the idea of collective salvation while ignoring personal choices and personal codes of ethics. America needed men who understood that everyone must work out their own salvation. It was between them and their creator. In the end, he was the only one they would need to answer to. America needed good, honest, tough, hardened men, men with grit and steel resolve. She needed men who took responsibility for their actions, who weren’t always focused on trying to correct the actions of others. They had a country to restore and old ideas to protect and nurture. It was beginning here in the living room of a lowly rancher in Eastern Oregon.

  Nirsch had no doubt that what was beginning here would spread. The United States of America would once again be the nation that the Founding Fathers dreamed about 240 years ago.

  It had to.

  29

  JOHN DAY, OREGON

  2 P.M., FRIDAY, MAY 8

  THE SUN FELT GOOD ON NIRSCH’S FACE AS HE RODE INTO town. Everyone and everything was bustling. There was no sign of wrecked cars, no litter in the streets. All of the dead had been buried. Children played in their yards as the smell of the evening meal floated on the breeze. People talked with one another on the sidewalks. It was as if Nirsch had been transported back to the 1800s.

  He kept riding until he reached the fairgrounds. A few people were already filing into the arena. He was forty-five minutes early, so he rode to the river and hitched up on the bank under a cotton-wood tree. Nirsch needed a while to collect his thoughts. He’d gone to school with most of those he’d ridden past, though there were a few faces he didn’t recognize. Several people had moved into town to retire, but almost everyone that lived there had a family connection to the county.

  Three o’clock came. Nirsch took a deep breath and rode back. He climbed into the announcer’s tower and looked out over the crowd. The people stood in the middle of the arena, surrounded by grandstands on three sides. It was like a natural amphitheater. Over a thousand men, women, and children looked up at him with a mixture of fear, excitement, and hope reflected in their eyes.

  Nirsch spotted Bob Anderson, the pastor of the local Methodist church, standing at the base of the tower. Nirsch yelled out to him and waved him up into the tower. Nirsch whispered in his ear, “Would you mind opening us
in prayer?” When the pastor finished his prayer, Nirsch stepped forward.

  “Hello, everyone,” he said. “My name is Levi Nirschell. Most of you know me, or knew my father or my grandfather. I was born and raised in Seneca. For most of my working career, I have been employed by the federal government in the area of intelligence gathering. Some or all of you should know by now that our nation has collapsed. The causes of this are many, but I don’t think the causes are as important as the effects.

  “Since this tragedy, some things have changed, fundamental changes that affect the roots of our republic and our right as free people to shape our own destinies. Those who hold the power, might, and control over what’s left of the military are pressing forward with a plan that will completely kill the dream our Founding Fathers had for this land. The Constitution no longer exists in their eyes. The Bill of Rights, it’s gone. The right to assemble, it’s going away. The right to speak openly with your friends and neighbors, also going away. All of these things are being replaced with something very ugly, something very evil. Right now, in Boise, Idaho, and other towns like it, people are being imprisoned behind fences and forced into slavery. All personal belongings are being taken away and divided equally among everyone. People are no longer allowed to read anything but what those in charge provide.

  “Some have tried to protest and resist this change. They have been met with force, and some of them have been killed. Murdered by a man who thinks we’re not able to take care of ourselves. Someone who thinks he can control our lives and mold us into his idea of a model citizen.”