For us it all started one summer night about 4 am. This is when we realized how bad things were becoming. I was woken up in the middle of the night by gunfire. I listened carefully to determine the type of gun used and the location. You can tell the type of gun by the sound it makes when it is fired. These were AK47 rifles, the preferred guns of gangs, cartels, and terrorists because they were cheap.
An AK 47 fires a 7.62 x 39mm round. It is an assault rifle developed in the old Soviet Union by Mikhail Kalashnikov in 1947. Officially it is called the Auto Kalashnikov hence AK 47. It is the weapon of choice for terrorists since it is cheap and readily available. Worldwide more of these guns were produced than any other type. It is a sturdy rifle and dangerous at close range but it is not very accurate.
Pulling on my pants, I grabbed my Glock 9mm and stuffed it into my waistband. I went to my gun safe and pulled out my Colt AR 15 9mm carbine along with 3 mags of ammunition. After picking up my cell phone, I ran out the door.
The AR 15 rifle is a lightweight, 5.56 mm/.223-caliber, magazine-fed, air cooled rifle. It is manufactured with extensive use of aluminum alloys and synthetic materials. The AR 15 was first built by Arma Lite, hence the meaning of AR, a small arms manufacture. They sold the design to Colt Firearms. Colt redsigned the rifle and Government renamed it the M16. Colt then started selling the semi-automatic version of the M16 rifle as the Colt AR-15 for civilian sales. The AR 15 H barrel is identical to the M16 the only difference being the AR 15 is only sold in semi-automatic. There many types of AR designed rifles and carbines. Orginally CAR was meant to mean Colt Automatic Rifle but with shorter barrels becoming popular it now means carbine model which means the barrel is shorter than the standard rifle. The AR can also be purchased to fire .22L, 9 mm pistol ammunition or larger rounds.
My phone rang. It was my son Tommy, who asked, “What’s going on?”
I said, “Meet me outside with your rifle, there is gunfire coming from the local 7-11 down the street.”
The 7-11 was open 24 hours a day. Looking down the street I saw the Sheriff’s car with its flashing lights on, sitting in the middle of the street. The Deputy was standing behind his car firing his handgun; I could see the flashes of fire coming from the barrel.
All of a sudden I heard footsteps behind me. I turned to fire and saw it was my neighbor Steve who had an M-14 rifle in his hand.
The M-14 rifle fires a 7.62x51mm NATO round and it was the main battle rifle for the Army until it was replace by the M 16.
Steve said, “What the hell is going on?”
I said, “Steve, you scared the shit out of me, I almost shot you.”
Steve scared me, but I was glad to see him. Soon my son showed up, meeting us in the middle of the divided highway under the cover of thick bushes. We slowly approached and saw the Sheriff Deputy fall down in the street.
Tommy said, “Look at that! The Deputy just got shot, what should we do?”
I replied, “Nothing right now, there are too many of them.”
“I can shoot some of them from here and they won’t know where the shot came from,” Tommy replied.
“Wait; don’t shoot unless they come closer.”
Steve agreed.
I saw four cars and with about sixteen men ransacking the store, as I looked through my rifle scope. One big dude walked over to the officer and shot him again, then he took the cop’s handgun. I could not make out his face, only his silhouette, but his big dark evil shape and huge head with a big beard was burned into my brain.
About ten minutes went by and the flashing lights of more Sheriffs’ cars were coming over the one and only bridge that let people on and off our island. There were only three vehicles, which meant a total of three officers. They had no chance against a gang of sixteen men.
The gang members just stood on the side of the road and started shooting at the police. The three cars ran the gauntlet of gunfire and were heading towards us about 500 yards away. They slammed on the brakes, screeching to a stop near our location and the Deputies jumped out.
As they hid behind their cars one officer, Deputy Matthews, saw us after we called out to him; he knew us since he lives on the island, and told the other two officers, “Stand down, these are my friends.”
We ran over to Matthews’s car and ducked down. The rifle fire had stopped for now.
Matthews asked, “What the hell is going on?”
I said, “It seems some guys are robbing the store and I think they killed the Deputy.”
Matthews got on his radio and called for more backup. Amazingly, the officers were not wounded from the gunfire when they came over the bridge but their cars where shot up. Lucky for them the bad guys were crummy shots.
Looking down the street, we were surprised to see the gangs’ cars pull out over the bridge, one by one leaving the island, randomly shooting their guns at us as they left.
The big dude who shot the Deputy stood in the street and shouted, “We’ll be back.” He aimed his rifle at us and fired off a couple of rounds that pinged off a police cruiser as we ducked for cover. His car, the last to leave sped away burning rubber.
The Deputies jumped in their cars and went to the aid of the fallen officer. I asked my son to take our rifles back to the house, just to be safe, as I didn’t want them in our hands when more police backup arrived. I didn’t want to get shot by mistake.
Steve and I ran to the store only to find a bloody mess. They left one dead officer, two dead store clerks and one dead bridge attendant. That explained why the bridge was not raised. Whenever a robbery is committed here the Deputy calls the bridge attendant to raise the bridge so they cannot escape the island. The gang must have shot the bridge attendant first.
This was our first encounter with gang attacks on our island. About 30 minutes later the Sheriff himself showed up with about a 15-man Swat Team that roped off the area. By that time it was almost daylight and most people who lived near the store were out in the street wondering what had happened.
The Sheriff roped off the area with yellow tape. Everyone stood around gawking while the coroner came and took the bodies away after the crime scene was searched for evidence. Officers were asking everyone there to come forward if they saw anything.
I advised them that all I saw were the four black cars and I didn’t know the makes. I also saw the officer get shot but I didn’t see the shooter’s face; it was too dark and I could only see shapes. There was not much evidence. The spent shells on the ground were collected to see if they could be traced and would be held for future evidence in case they caught one of the scum bags with the gun that matched the shells. Chances are they would never be caught.
We called an emergency meeting with the Sheriff about providing more protection than one officer round the clock. Deputy Matthews commented that since he lived on the island, he could be stationed there 24-7 to provide protection but he still needed three more Deputies. The Sheriff agreed as this solved his problem and ours without costing him any more officers.
I said, “Why not swear in any man that wants to be a Deputy who has some military training?”
The Sherriff agreed to this as long as Matthews was left in charge and we all reported to him. Twenty-four men stepped forward to take the oath. The problem was solved, for the time being. That night eight men were on duty guarding the bridge. Everyone slept well that night except me.
The County Sheriff recommended that we all move to the new green zone or the so-called protected zone downtown in the city, as he could no longer offer us protection. This was not for me as two or three families were crammed into one small room. You lived where they told you to live. Oddly enough, that day about 1500 people moved to the green zone, leaving their homes as well as extra cars, as you were only permitted to have one car in the green zone, due to parking problems. The next day another 944 people left leaving about 556 who wanted to stay in their homes.
I thought fine, let them go, as they would be a burden on the people who had the guts t
o stay and fight to protect their homes and lifestyle. No one was going to kick me out of my home. Now I was lucky as my two kids, son-in-law, daughter-in-law, granddaughter and brother lived on the island with my wife and I. We were all excellent shooters and long ago I started buying guns and ammunition. Most of the people that stayed also had guns and knew how to use them. I had drawn up a defensive plan years ago with my friend Eddy, a plan to protect our island from looting after a hurricane.
We decided to call a meeting the next day to elect officers for our new security organization and to discuss the subject of how we would protect our homes, as well as other civil matters. It was time for us to get serious about self defense, time to become serious about defending our homes, family and our American way of life. We had heard about these gangs and terrorist attacks but never seen one. Now attacks were becoming common all over the city. The police could do nothing about this as there were too many bad guys and too few officers.
The first directive was to guard and protect our location, 24 hours per day, seven days a week. We needed a total of 16 men for each eight-hour shift. This meant a grand total of 48 people to cover us around the clock. But we also needed time off as we couldn’t work seven days a week, so we had to recruit 48 more people to cover the weekends two days a week. They would also act as rapid response team members. This brought the total number of people for security to ninety-six. Ninety-six people are a considerable force to protect our location, but necessary to defeat anyone who would do us harm.
This left 460 people to work on other necessary projects for our island such as fishing, farming, cooking, cutting grass, cutting trees and garbage pickup. Everyone would be assigned a job and no one would get a free ride.
I knew the gang would be back sooner or later. They always come back.
April 17, 2025
Continued
Suddenly Big Jim made a movement with his right hand, reaching around to his back. In an instant I drew my Glock 9mm out from its Kydex holster… Bam! Bam! Bam! I shot Big Jim with a triple tap, which is one bullet in the head and two in the chest. Big Jim never knew what hit him.
A Glock is without a doubt the best hand gun ever made. The barrels never wear out and they are very dependable. It will fire under water, you can throw it in the mud or run it over with a truck, and it still works every time. It is light weight and has a 15 to 17 round magazine capacity, which means you can fire a lot of bullets. I like the luger 9mm round because it is the most common hand gun ammunition. It is used by the military and police departments all over the United States.
At almost the same time, Robbie and I shot the other guy twice in the chest. They were dead; they both fell like a lead sinker, hitting the pavement with a thud.
The slaves fell to the ground begging us not to shoot them.
Ricked yelled, “What the hell are you guys doing shooting someone under a white flag?”
I yelled back, “Rick, I had no time to tell you or Robbie, but these are the guys who shot the Deputy a year ago at the 7-11 store. I recognized the big dork from that night.”
A dork is defined as a whale penis; another meaning is a big prick.
I walked over to his body and found a gun behind his back tucked into the waistband. Just as I thought it was a Glock 9mm, which is standard police issue. I took my gold chain out of his dirty pocket, wiped it off, and slipped it back over my head.
I said, “Look here is the gun that the dork took off the cop.”
Robbie checked the other guy and found another Glock. Most gang members don’t carry an expensive Glock; they usually have a cheap old .38 special revolver, what we call a midnight special, a hot gun sold illegally. Later Deputy Matthews checked the serial numbers and they were police-issued; one belonged to Deputy Hardy, who was killed that terrible night a year ago.
I told Robbie, “Good shooting, Bro, I knew you would start shooting when I did.”
Then I ordered, “Mark feed these guys to the sharks and hurry up!” Mark, strong as an ox, picked them up and tossed them over the bridge railing into the shark-infested water.
Mark laughed while saying, “You fucks are fish food; you don’t mess with Jack Gunn.”
As I was moving to a safe spot behind a car I ordered, “Take cover and make your way back up the bridge before we get shot!”
Robbie, Rick and I had the slaves in tow, pulling them along with us as well as we could. They were in shock. Eddy laying low, came up and took the slaves out of the range of fire back over the bridge. They would be safe and in good hands now.
Robbie, one of my best friends whom I have known more than 20 years, used to love to fight. I guess it was to prove his manhood. We used to have a fight club that would meet every month and we would practice the skills of self defense. We had six people in our club, one was a Navy Seal and another was a retired DEA agent. Back then Robbie did not own any guns for fear he would kill someone due to his quick temper. Many times I was with him and he would start a fight with someone for no reason at all. If a man looked at him wrong Robbie would just walk up and sucker-punch him.
Rick was still bitching about me shooting the dork, and I told him, “Look, there was nothing else I could do. He was wanted for killing a cop and they threatened to attack us. I figured if we shot the assholes then the rest of them wouldn’t mess with us.”
Rick is a good guy but he thinks too much and is slow to react. He said, “You can’t shoot people in cold blood.”
I answered back, “Look, I knew those guys had guns and they were making a move. We were going to fight them anyway, no matter how you look at it, so drop it. We also saved five people from hell.”
Robbie told Rick, “Shut the fuck up Bro, it’s over, we’re alive and they’re fish food.”
Mark exclaimed, “Yeah, fish food!”
Mark is a guy who does what he wants, when he wants. He does not like authority. Mark is single and yes Mark is a little crazy, so most people here stay away from him. Deep down however, Mark is a good guy who would do anything for me because I pay attention to him. I think he considers me a father figure since his own has passed away. One drawback is Mark likes to smoke pot.
A story from years ago is Mark had just purchased a new truck and drove downtown to buy pot. Well, the police had a sting set up and started chasing him in his truck. Mark tried to get away but the police stopped him.
The Officer asked him, “Why are you running from us?”
Mark replied, “Because you’re chasing me.”
The police asked him for his license and Mark said, “It’s on the back of the truck.”
Now who gives answers like that to the police? They found the pot in his truck. He was arrested for the dope and was also charged with fleeing and eluding the police. He spent eight months in jail and they took his truck for running drugs. Now Mark rides a bicycle everywhere. Mark works as a handyman, so if you need something done, Mark will do it. All-in-all, Mark just wants someone to notice him. But never call him crazy to his face.
Rick had never killed anyone and always wanted to give the other person the benefit of the doubt. I saw him get beat up pretty bad in a bar fight once because of that. My thinking is, shoot first and ask questions later. When in doubt, let God sort it out. This is the Wild West, where you shoot the other guy first or you die. Here there is no such thing as a fair fight.
I think the gang was in shock seeing their two big leaders blown away and thrown into the water like fish food because it took them about ten minutes to react. As we were taking cover, all of a sudden we heard a shot fired and we ducked behind a car. We didn’t see where it came from but our men were returning fire at the gang below. Fifty guns firing all in a space of a few minutes are loud as hell. I saw a couple of dirt bags fall as the dummies were standing out in the open shooting at us. It seemed they had no training at all. After three more scumbags fell, they ran behind their trucks and cars.
I guessed that Tommy had shot at least three of these jerks. Now they were t
aking pot shots at us but their aim was so bad the bullets just whizzed overhead or hit the cars around us. The gang started to jump in their vehicles to make a getaway. Our fire power was overwhelming. They didn’t expect that.
I yelled to our people, “Hold your fire, save your ammo!”
The gang withdrew, driving down the road about a mile to the empty condos abandoned two years ago. My guess is more than a few were also wounded by our excellent shooters.
I told Mark, “Go down there and dump the bodies in the water. Robbie, go with him and make sure they are all dead.”
Rick and I watched as Robbie put a bullet in the head of each of the bodies. Rick and I looked at each other and started to laugh at what Robbie just did, but we were laughing in relief that we won this round with none of us hurt. Mark and Robbie carried back three AK47 rifles and a few mags.
Just north of us, about a mile away, there used to be a big condo and townhome community. Now it is empty, for the most part, and falling apart. Homeless people, gangs, criminals, terrorists, and other dangerous people have taken it over. They would like to take over our island and homes but we won’t let that happen. Some in small groups of five or six have already tried to come here over the bridge or gain access by boat. They all died trying so they don’t try any more.
After the battle, most of us went down to the bar for a beer and a lot of people gathered around us and wanted to know what had happened. Everyone was worried but they were all happy we weren’t hurt. I hate having to tell a story over and over again, but Mark likes to tell stories so we all just let him tell it in his own way, which can be quite funny most of the time, but not always accurate.
TOCABAGA (Revised Edition) (Book #1 of The Tocabaga Chronicles) Page 3
