by W. R. Benton
“Not a great deal, and I don't think most folks will realize things are going to hell, well, until it's too late to do much. I think tomorrow you, me, Ben and Carol need to run in and get some prescriptions filled and buy more ammo.”
“Sure, but if I get any medications, then the NWO will know exactly what town I'm in and the same with Carol. Also, you can be sure the FBI and CIA are checking all they can on Frank, as is the NWO. Any activity on his medical records, ATM, or other computer files, will send a red flag.”
“Damn, I'd not given that much thought, so that's out, unless you just want to go look around.”
Sitting on a log they'd packed in for a sofa, Ben said, “No, I'll not chance it, and suggest Carol and Frank stay here, too. We need to lay low for a long time, and the less seen of us the better.”
“Okay then, I'll take Fred, April, Tom, Joan, and Dick with me. The idea is to stock up on medical supplies that we may need during the long haul. Before we leave in the morning, Nancy will write all of your prescriptions for the meds she will need the most if this lasts a long time.”
Dick, quiet most of the morning said, “The news this morning said black folks have taken over Detroit, Chicago and most of St. Louis. Large numbers of whites, Hispanics, and Asians were reportedly murdered. Then, the Texans went on a rampage, and those cowboys burned every mosque in the state. There are reports of thousands of Muslims killed and hanging from trees and telephone poles. What in the hell is going on? I think it's looking more and more like a civil war is coming, and I don't like this at all.”
“But, who against who?” James asked.
“As I've heard said before I think Liberals against Conservatives. The Liberals are the fools that riot over sending the illegal aliens home, raise hell every time a cop kills a black man, no matter if the dead man was dangerous or not, wanted millions of Syrian Refugees in the country, and have spent and spent until there is little left to spend.” Dick said, and then gave a weak smile.
“What of our military?” Carol asked.
“Most are conservatives, but when the government can no longer pay them every two weeks, how long do you think they'll keep coming to work? That will happen with the police, fire fighters, and EMTs too. Once the money stops flowing, folks will start to walk off their jobs. I think all community resources will dry up, grocery stores will soon empty, hospitals will no longer be able to care for patients who will be sent home, or abandoned in their beds. Someone will have to rescue them or they'll starve to death.”
“You can be damned sure the New World Order will be watching this country closely. They're patient people and won't move until after our civil war is over. Once the smoke clears, they'll come into this country with all the power the United Nations can provide, with all the speed and force they can muster.” Ben said, and then poured some coffee into his cup from the pot on the small fire.
“Well,” James said, “we'll worry about that when it happens.”
It was close to 6 pm, so they turned on the television, which was running off solar power and discovered they only received one station clearly and two others with a lot of snow on the screen. They finally tuned into the clear station.
“Federal authorities announced today that starting next week all legal citizens of the United States will begin to get microchips installed. Your personal information, medical history, banking information, credit rating, and driver’s license will all be stored on this chip. It will also transmit your body temperature, vitals, and other information to a monitored computer, which may save lives by sending emergency medical assistance to you before you have a stroke, heart attack, or other life threatening emergency. It also has a tracking GPS, which will assist the police in locating missing persons. However, this order does not come without some resistance. Harold Glover reports for WGXG in Jefferson City. Harold?”
“John, I am standing in front of the First Baptist Church and as you can see behind me, the chip offends some people. Christians as a whole are refusing to have the implant and referencing the scripture pertaining to the Mark of the Beast in the Bible. They claim the number of the beast is 666. Federal authorities are attempting to persuade them that it is nothing, except a better way to store information about any individual and only those places that have need can access the individual's information. Starting the first of next year, those without the chip will not be able to access ATMs, medical care, cash checks or accomplish banking transactions of any kind. There will be many places the chip is required, like voting, shopping or selling merchandise in any way. Also, those on public assistance or receiving disability, military retirement, or other checks from the United States Treasury will not be able to have them deposited until the chip is implanted. Food stamps will also be denied to those who do not have the chip. The chip is free and being implanted at all hospitals, police stations, and clinics. This is Harold Glover, reporting for WGXG.”
Ben shook his head and said, “They are fools if they get the chip. It's not being done for the good of people, but to enslave them. As for saving lives, the NWO wants to reduce the world's current population to a much more controllable number, so that's all bullshit.”
“I reckon,” James said, “folks that live in the country, cowboys and cowgirls, Christians and others who know the Bible will refuse the chip; then what?”
“They'll be taken to a FEMA camp, kept until there are enough of them and then used for slave labor, or they'll be taken into the countryside, shot and killed. There is no room for those who do not conform.” Frank said, and then shook his head as he said, “That chip will lead to civil war. The Republicans will refuse it, but the Liberals will see it as another free lunch.”
“So, what do we do?” Donna asked as she looked at James, and he could see her fear.
James reached over, patted her hand a few times and then said, “We'll get by here, in the cave, until we see how this split happens.”
Dick said, “This is insane, because we have racial splits happening, religious splits, political splits, so how can we tell which is which? How do we separate the good guys from the bad?”
“We wait, is what we do. Soon, very soon, the change will take place and the TV will cover it all.”
“Look,” Frank said, “all of us are veterans, except for the women. Why don't we try to make contact with an active duty unit or with the state militia?”
“Is there an active duty unit around here?” Dick asked.
“There is an Army base about 30 miles west of here, and maybe tomorrow two of us can go there and at least see what's going on. Once on the base, we'll buy more ammo, food and medical supplies.” James suggested, and then winked at Donna.
“I like that idea.” Ben said.
The phone rang and James answered, “Yeah?”
A minute passed and then he said, “How far? Okay, stay where you are no matter what happens, okay?”
“Good, bye.” Looking around he said, “There are two men wearing camouflage making their way toward the entrance of the cave. Blake said they know what they're doing, which usually means ex-military, and he only spotted them when the sun flashed off something. Both are carrying sniper rifles and they're about half a mile away — to our south.”
Ben neared and said, “They're after me to be sure. Let me get on top of the cave and I'll take them both out with my rifle.”
“How do they know you're here?”
“They probably raided your place in Texas, found it empty and then they just ran a computer check to see what other properties you may own. This one came up.”
“Okay, move, but let neither of them escape.” James said.
Ben grabbed his rifle and was gone.
“I want the rest of the men outside, hiding in the bushes. All women and the kids need to go back further in the cave to where it turns. Stay there until we tell you to come out. Men, take a rifle and pistol, but remember to hide well. I think from now on, we need to wear pistols at all times.”
As the
men left the cave, Donna wondered how many would be alive in an hour.
CHAPTER 10
The two snipers on the hillside opposite the cave mouth, were FBI and learned to shoot while in the Army. They'd both received special training and as one shot, the other would spot for him. As a team, these two had hundreds of kills behind them, and since they'd joined the FBI, they had added another couple of hundred. They tried hard to use one shot for one kill, but truth be known, some hits took more than one bullet. In the field they rarely spoke, but used their hands to communicate, and they'd been on so many missions before, they could almost read each other minds.
Their mission brief stated that Ben had turned rogue and left the CIA. Neither questioned the briefing, because they'd had the chip implanted, so all was fine with them. They were told where the suspected target may be and that was it. Then, using a government C-130 running between bases on the east and west coast, they'd left the airplane at 20,000 feet free-falling and then opened their parachutes at 800 feet. Commonly referred to as HALO, High Altitude (jump) Low (parachute) Opening, they'd landed less than two miles from the cave in a large hay field. Near the Little Piney River, they'd thrown their parachutes and other jump gear under a ledge and then collapsed it to cover all traces of their jump.
Neither had spotted Blake or Ben on the very top of the cave. By the time the snipers glassed the roof of the cave, Ben was in a prone position scoping the two snipers. Once Blake heard Ben wanted to take out the snipers, he'd hidden as well as he could near the man and would spot for him. He disliked all snipers and while he didn't think of them as cowards, because he'd seen some brave ones, they didn't fight fairly in his eyes. He'd served with some brave snipers, very brave men, who'd spend days sneaking up on a ripe target. To them it was part of the job, but he disliked their job and could do without snipers on either side.
Ben was having a real hard time finding the man with the rifle on the far ridge. He'd found the spotter easily enough, but the sniper eluded him. Of course, the spotter wasn't Ben's primary target, because the man with the trigger finger would kill. While the Federal sniper did not see his targets, either Agent X1 or Joda May, the missing Secret Service Agent, he did see over a half dozen old fat men, only they didn't interest him.
Finally, the spotter wrote on a sheet of green paper, “ten feet off the left side of the trail leading to the cave, is a black man. Looks to be May. He is approximately ½ the distance from the stream to the cave. Behind a huge walnut tree.”
The sniper nodded and then looked for Joda. Finally, he spotted the man and confirmed he was in fact Joda May. Black male, 28 years old, short hair, thin, small scar on his forehead. He laid the cross-hairs on his targets head, right in the middle of his face, and then took a deep breath. As the sniper slowly exhaled, he began to squeeze the trigger. The shot was more of a light thump than a crack or boom, and when he'd checked his target, he could not be seen.
Whispering, the spotter said, “Bullet must have struck a branch or twig, because your shot was deflected, wide.”
“Okay, let's just kill all of them.”
“You sure?”
“Why not, they're with wanted men, so they're harboring fugitives, right?” The sniper thought that killing all of them was the smart thing to do. Of course, his thought came from the NWO master computer.
Ben had known a shot was fired, because he saw just a touch of smoke and the hint of muzzle flash. He glassed the area again and finally spotted the sniper.
As the Federal sniper was lining up Thomas in his sights, Ben smiled and thought, This sniper will never have to worry about getting a microchip implanted, because he's about to be implanted with lead.
Both the Federal sniper and Ben fired at the same time. Thomas screamed, grabbed his chest and fell to the forest floor near the trail. The shot had taken him dead center of his chest, with a lead slug pushing a chunk of backbone with it as it punched a hole through the man. Blood was seeping and oozing from the small entrance hole, but a carmine stream was flowing freely from its exit wound. In a matter of a few short seconds, he was lying in a growing puddle of scarlet blood. His feet kicked and his fingers scratched at the soil.
A split second after Tom screamed, Ben's bullet struck the sniper's scope and continued down the long tube, to exit already flattened. The misshapen lead struck the Federal sniper in the right eye, continued through his brain, and then exited at the rear of his head. Blood, brain tissue, gore and shards of skull splattered on the bushes behind him. His bloody Boonie hat was knocked from his head violently as his head was snapped back from the force of the bullet.
As the sniper lay jerking and twitching, the spotter grabbed the sniper rifle and moved further up the slope. He finally moved behind a big oak tree. Crawling very slowly, the man moved away from the tree to a dense clump of brush off his right side, where he hoped to hide until darkness; then he'd kill his target.
Ben and Blake knew where the man went, but had no idea he was moving. The new sniper was moving so slowly, even those watching for him did not detect any movement.
The spotter had almost lost his professionalism when the sniper was killed. Never had the two taken so much as a slight injury, until today. They were obviously the target of another well trained sniper and he suspected it was Ben. He'd been briefed that Agent X1 was a very deadly man.
“I've lost him.” Blake said, his voice full of frustration.
“I think he's still behind the oak tree, but he'll move soon. Sooner or later, he'll make a mistake. When he does, we'll take his ass out.”
Picking up the phone, Blake asked, “Anyone hit with that shot?”
Ben knew a well trained sniper didn't shoot until he had a clear shot. There were very few victims of snipers that were just wounded.
“Understand.” he said and then closed the cell phone.
“Well?”
“Thomas is fatally injured. He took what looks like a 30.06 shot to the middle of his chest and is living right now on borrowed time. According to James, his lungs and spine were hit, and they can't get the bleeding to stop.”
“If that ever happens to me, just shoot my ass. I see no need to suffer excruciating pain for long minutes or even hours, with no hope of recovery.”
Picking up the cell phone, Ben dialed a number and then said, “It will be dark soon and we need to take the other man out, or he'll change to a night vision scope. Once he does that, we're dead meat.”
“What do you suggest we do?”
“Send two men toward the sniper, but from opposite directions, and when he moves, I'll smoke his ass. He'll see the movement of one or both of them for sure and he'll either hole up or take a shot. If I were him, I'd take a shot. Tell your men to shoot to kill.”
“It'll be me and Frank.” said James. “We both have 30.06's with scopes and sidearms. We're moving now.”
Minutes later, both men were seen slowly moving toward the sniper, from different sides. Both men fully understood what they were up against and it was very probable the sniper would take one or both of them out. However, they also knew once it grew full dark, the sniper could kill more of them than in daylight. Folks using the woods as a toilet, gathering more wood, or anyone near the fire in the cave would be fair game. It was likely the sniper had Night Vision Goggles which allowed him to see in the dark, but he'd see everything in an eerie green color. James knew, once dark, they'd never find him.
The going was rough and the slope of the hill was steep. It didn't help James that he'd been drinking beer and sitting on his ass for a couple of years. He was out of shape and his mind was on edge, knowing the next second may be his last. While not really a religious man, he found himself silently praying they'd take the sniper out with no cost to them.
Frank had just stepped on a rock and as he moved, the rock rolled and down he went. At the instant he fell, he heard the bullet zing past his head, less than an inch from his ear.
“I have movement.” Ben said, “In some bushes.”
“Moved to some bushes? I never saw him move from the tree.”
“He moved to the clump of bushes to his right, or our left. He's right in the middle.”
“Frank is down, but I have no idea if he's hit or not. Can you risk a shot?”
“Better than that, I'm going to take the man out, but watch him in case I miss.”
“I have him visual now, so shoot when you want.”
Ben lined up his sights, grinned, and as he squeezed the trigger, he said, “Bye and say hello to Saint Peter for me.” His rifle gave a muffled thump as it fired.
The sniper on the hill was lining his rifle up on James, when he suddenly felt a searing pain go through his chest, and he was knocked violently to the ground.
I've been hit, he thought, as he tried to remove a bandage from his first aid kit, only to discover his hands and arms wouldn't obey his brain. He was able to open the first aid pouch on his web belt, remove the bandage, but he couldn't tear the paper it was packed in. He did pull the morphine self-injecting syringe, from the first aid kit, and struck it on the side of his thigh. He felt the needle enter the meaty portion of his thigh and just seconds later, all pain disappeared.
His bloody rifle lay by his side, but he lacked the strength to pick it up, which confused him. He felt no pain, but his back was resting in water, he thought. The wetness he felt was his blood, not water, and the puddle was growing larger with each beat of his heart.
He was thinking of his days as a child, floating homemade sail boats down ditches following a hard rain. Suddenly, he was a child again. He pushed his boat to the middle of the trench and watched the current grab the wooden toy. Then slowly, his world turned from full light, to light gray and then, minutes later, it turned black. The last man of the sniper team sent to kill Joda and Ben was dead.
James made his way cautiously toward the sniper and then got a phone call.
“Yep?” he asked as he stopped for a breather.
