TYRANT: The Rise

by L. Douglas Hogan

  Nathan stood at the blackboard and detailed what he and Todd had seen the day before. As he was talking to the group, Ash walked in.

  “Welcome back,” Nathan said as Ash took a seat in the back of the room. Nathan continued. “There were dozens of tugboats labeled UN and hundreds of shipping containers just like the ones many of you were being held in. Each one of the containers were labeled with a capital V. I spent most of the night trying to figure out what the V stands for, but I’m still not completely sure.”

  The word “five” was shouted from the middle of the room.

  “Excuse me,” Nathan said.

  James stood up and said, “It’s the Roman numeral five.” Everybody in the group began to look around at each other, with everybody’s eyes resting on James.

  “If I may,” James asked as he moved to the front of the room.

  “Yeah, go ahead.” Nathan gave the room to James.

  “My name is James and I’m a nurse. An RN, to be precise. I probably wouldn’t know what that V means except for the fact that the government was requiring VA Hospitals to participate in mandatory FEMA training and certifications. I remember hearing one of the FEMA coordinators talking about ‘the Five.’ The Five is what they called the region they were assigned to. When there were still states, the federal government created the Federal Emergency Management Agency and divided the states into regions. There were ten regions that FEMA controlled, and Illinois, as it used to be called, is in Region Five, along with Minnesota, Iowa, Wisconsin, Ohio, and Michigan.”

  James took a second to read the expressions on the faces of his listeners, then continued. “Illinois’ FEMA encampment is in Chicago. It is known as FEMA Camp Five. Of the five states in the fifth region, there is only one camp with jurisdiction over all the assigned area. I believe those barges are headed up the Mississippi to Minnesota.”

  “Wait a second,” Jess interrupted. “If Chicago is the headquarters of FEMA Region Five, then why would the barges be heading to Minnesota?”

  “Minnesota is the northernmost state in Region Five. The Mississippi River ends there, as far as the United States is concerned. My guess would be that they are utilizing the river to expedite travel and to raise less resistance. The bottom line, ladies and gentlemen, those containers will end up at FEMA Camp Five.”

  “The Gulf of Mexico,” Ash said from the back of the room. “The UN is coming through the Gulf of Mexico.”

  “How do you know that?” Nathan asked.

  “I remember this from geography class. That’s the river’s point of entry into the United States.”

  “They must be stopping in ports along the way to round up resistance fighters and then haul them up the river to prison camps,” Jess added. “That explains the barges labeled UN but no trucks.”

  James, still standing next to Nathan in the front of the room, said, “That may be the point of entry for the vehicles as well. Just because we haven’t seen any vehicle barges doesn’t mean they couldn’t have dropped them off in, say, Louisiana, and the prisoner transport barges headed north up the river and the vehicles headed north along the highways.”

  “Think about it,” Nathan said. “That makes sense why the barges are lightly armed and the vehicles are heavily armed. Who can barricade the Mississippi?”

  “Our concern should be for the American prisoners right now. There must have been thousands of people in those containers,” Denny said.

  “Not all people,” James replied.

  “What are you talking about?” Denny asked.

  “When you guys were grabbing your horses and others were fetching the guns and ammo, I was releasing people from those shipping containers. Only half of them were full of people. The other half were full of boxes.”

  “Boxes?” Jess replied.

  “Yes. Stacks and stacks of polymer boxes in each container.”

  “Anything else?” Jess asked.

  “Yeah, I saw some martial law signs in one of them.”

  “You’re talking about concentration camps,” said a man in the room as he was standing up.

  “Let’s not get all caught up in speculation, here,” Nathan retorted. “No doubt polymer boxes and martial law signs are being shipped. No doubt those are UN troops and equipment. But to say that our government is setting up concentration camps across the US is hypothetical, at best.”

  “What would you rationalize this to be? I’ve seen pictures of stackable polymer boxes on train cars, and people say they’re being used for FEMA coffins,” Jess told Nathan.

  “Definitely not a summer getaway,” Nathan said. He then turned toward Jess. “Was there food in those shipping containers?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I’m trying to do the math, but if a barge is moving, say, five miles per hour, and the Mississippi is over two thousand miles long, that would mean…” Nathan was writing math problems on the blackboard as he thought out loud. “Well, over two weeks without food or water,” he concluded.

  “Explains the boxes,” Zig said.

  “Okay, it’s time to strategize,” Nathan said. “Here’s what we need to do first. Denny, can you get a group together, arm them, and head to the ranch this evening and slaughter some beef. We’re gonna need to feed these guys. Me and Jess will come up with a strategy and find a way to deal with this nemesis. I’ll fill you in on everything when you return.”

  “Not a problem,” Denny replied.

  The District

  Adalyn sat behind the “Resolute Desk” with a sense of pride and achievement. She felt that where other executives had failed, she would excel. No longer would the common American citizen dictate what was best for America, but she was confident her values were righteous and absolute. That’s why she sat with a board of appointed advisors and discussed the issues plaguing the United States. To get there, she needed a precise and decisive strategy to stomp out patriots that would stand in the way of traditionalism. She needed some population management. She would require the assistance of international support. She would enforce a pre-existing UN bill by the name of “Agenda 21.” Doing this would assure outside support.

  She was confident that she could control the patriots from within by controlling their resources. She was wise enough to understand she could not get congressional approval to support her ideals, so she continued to raise taxes and throw more support into welfare programs. She continued to throw her support behind the nanny-state programs until it was no longer sustainable. Her goal, the whole two terms of her presidency, was to bring down America’s outdated form of capitalism and get onboard with the international community. Her second term was almost over when the crowds became uncontrollable and rioting filled every community. The people had grown irate when the welfare funding finally stopped. President Adalyn Baker invoked martial law, suspending elections and seizing every resource the American people needed to survive on their own.

  Next, she would enact Agenda 21 and use her appointed Bureau of Land Management Czar to seize all land by utilizing local and international forces.

  Agenda 21 was a bill signed into action decades earlier. It was basically a volunteer program that worked from the local levels of government and that masqueraded things like “population control” in words like “sustainable growth.” What it really did was take everything from everybody through a system of inventory and control and regional governance.

  Adalyn saw herself as a savior of global sustainability. She knew that the global community would look to her as a hero for finally getting America onboard.

  She assigned czars to virtually every wing of the government and had direct intelligence from each of them. There was nothing happening under her watch that she was not aware of.

  Her plan for ground assistance included the United Nations ground forces. She knew patriots would resist them, mostly in the rural parts of America, where gun control proved most difficult.

  She would utilize the Gulf of Mexico to ferry in troops to the Midwest; Canada
from the north; the Atlantic from the east; and the Pacific from the west.

  She had Federal Emergency Management Camps built within the HQ regions and enlarged their previously anticipated capacities. Region I HQ was assigned to Boston, Massachusetts; Region II was New York, New York; Region III was Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; Region IV was Atlanta, Georgia; Region V was Chicago, Illinois; Region VI was Denton, Texas; Region VII was Kansas City, Missouri; Region VIII was Denver, Colorado; Region IX was Oakland, California; and Region X was Bothell, Washington.

  With the anticipated loss of life and relocation process, she suspected high reports of casualties, which she duly noted as an acceptable sacrifice for global management.

  The president held meetings almost daily in the situation room. She knew from the start that her new initiative was going to be a long fight. This day was no different. Adalyn stood up and adjusted her slacks and eyeglasses. She put on her best presidential appearance as she grabbed her classified documents and headed for the door. She was met by several agents that escorted her to the situation room.

  “Gentlemen,” the president said as she entered the room. She was always the last one in. She felt that she should wait on nobody, choosing instead to have them wait on her.

  “Good morning, sir,” the whole room said as she took her position at the head of the table.

  Adalyn looked across the table at all who were present. Once every eye was fixed on her, she looked at the coffee thermos that was sitting in its usual spot right at the head of the table, just forward enough to leave room for her documents folder. Next to it was her coffee cup. Both were neatly situated as she grabbed the thermos and poured herself a fresh cup of coffee. She then looked back at the room of people. “When I appointed regional czars, I did so with confidence that those I selected would perform their tasks explicitly. There are ten of you, each with a director of your own choosing. I elected to allow this privilege to boost your confidence in a team you could trust; and now, it would seem, that might have been the wrong decision.

  “Each of you understands that we cannot maintain regional governance without the support of ground influences. Ground influences should be groups assigned by your directors to motivate the control of the constituents. What we have, instead, are patriots who have a distorted sense of righteousness and outdated ideals.”

  President Baker looked at Regional Czar Five and called him by name, “Czar Jennings.”

  “Yes, sir?” he replied.

  “Since your director seems to be incapable of managing your region under your supervision, I have elected to provide you with one of my choosing. Your previous director is now being celled in the old Ohio State Penitentiary, where he is awaiting relocation protocol. Your new director is now a UN commander by the name of Abdul Muhaimin.

  “As for the rest of you,” Adalyn said as she clasped her hands and began walking around the table, purposefully attempting to intimidate everybody by walking behind them as they sat, “every time you lose control of your region, whether through loss of relocation protocol or loss of assets, your director will be replaced by somebody whom you cannot command. That’s after strike one. Strike two will intimately involve you in the relocation protocol. Do I make myself clear?”

  Everybody in the room replied with a passionate, “Yes, sir.”

  “Goals for sustainable growth can only be met through relocation, relocation through control, control through ground influences, and ground influence through control and inventory. Gentlemen, if we cannot maintain a firm grasp, we cannot accomplish our goals. The loss of several hundred constituents is a step backwards. Sustainable development cannot be attained with these patriots running amuck. They will resist and grow like a cancer. They have to be stomped out swiftly before it can spread. Monitor your regions and make sure it does not happen again.”

  With that, Adalyn picked up her coffee, now cool enough to drink. She took a sip and walked out of the situation room.

  Upon returning to the oval office, Adalyn opened the door to find General Muhaimin exactly where she left him. He was standing behind the desk in a casual position with his back to the door, looking out the window, and his hands clasped behind his back. “You made the arrangements, then,” he said, in his rugged and crackled Middle Eastern accent.

  “I did. I hope this satisfies your request,” she said.

  General Muhaimin turned around and faced her. “My troops, which were killed for a lack of your leadership, cannot be repaid by the blood of your patriot vermin. My troops were assets. Your desire for global recognition will cost me men. So far, President Baker—” He stopped and walked into her personal space, and then continued, “—you stand to lose very little. I will be satisfied when my task here is finished and I can leave this unclean land that you have come to call the Federal States of America.” General Muhaimin sidestepped Adalyn and walked out the door.

  The general had always been an ambitious man. When he’d fought in the jihadist wars, he only thought of his future as a general. But once he had attained his goal, he moved on to larger ambitions. The general wanted to do something on a global scale. His ambitions had no limit and he was the type of person that would do whatever he had to do to reach his goal. Sometimes the general would play it by ear, and other times he would work his will systematically, and at yet other times, unintentional outcomes seemed to work into his plans.

  The general was hard to read. He did not keep an inner circle, he never said more than he had to, and nothing he did was without reason. When he wanted to be diplomatic, he was as sly as a fox and would appear as harmless as a dove. This was how the general manipulated his way into anything he wanted. He was a narcissistic man from head to toe, but only his subordinates saw this. His superiors didn’t see his antisocial personality disorder. He played them like fiddles. He saw them all as puppets to the working of his own will and would use them to further his own objectives.

  CHAPTER IX

  Just South of Peoria, Illinois, October 25

  Weapons Company 2/24 had been driving along the Illinois River for hours. At random times, they had small combat engagements against rioters that attacked them and bandits trying to take their weapons, vehicles, and gear. Whenever these situations presented themselves, Lieutenant Colonel Buchanan always chose to withdraw over shooting at fellow Americans.

  Commanding Marines, in the situation given, was not what any officer would sign up for. Lieutenant Colonel Buchanan was very patriotic and knew tyranny when he saw it. It was a big decision leading the men against commands from Washington. When the Flip went down, many enlisted and command staff abandoned their oath. Many held true and saw it as their duty to restore the Constitution. Those who left returned home to their families, while others forsake that option, understanding that their children would not have the liberties they enjoyed and learned about in early America. And there were others that had nowhere to go, no family, no responsibility, so they chose to take a stand for a cause rather to fall without one.

  The speech Lieutenant Colonel Buchanan gave after the Flip sent shivers down the spines of all the men he took command of. Early in the speech he gave a window of opportunity to everybody who wanted to leave and return home. He knew that giving them this opportunity would reserve to himself only the most loyal and principled men. Lieutenant Colonel Buchanan would rather command three loyal men than three hundred whisperers. That wasn’t the case for Buchanan; he had the respect of every man that worked under him or around him.

  That day he only lost forty-seven men, including all but one officer, Captain Riley, from Company C, 6th ESB (Engineer Support Battalion). His highest enlisted Marine was Gunnery Sergeant Franks, Company E, 4th Recon Battalion. Buchanan would rather have Franks than an officer on any day of the week. He was headstrong, firm, and knew his men and work. He shared the ideals of a free America and the principles of the Constitution, just as Buchanan did.

  Buchanan was a major when he saw the recently constructed southern border
fence come down along the border. Not long after that, a flood of Muslim extremists came flooding through with hundreds of thousands of Mexicans. Both poverty and destruction swept through the country with devastating end results. Buchanan knew then what was on the horizon, but he chose to stay in the Marines and prepared himself, mentally, for what he knew would inevitably follow. He sat helplessly watching as extreme left-wing presidential candidates won election after election. Each election won because the candidate pushed new and bright ideas for welfare programs, each one accelerating the growth of program-dependent Americans. It was only a matter of time before the America Buchanan grew up in was gone altogether.

  Buchanan was looking for several tugboats running north along the Mississippi River. His recon teams had gathered the intel not long after the lights went out. He knew they were full of American prisoners destined for what the government heads called a “relocation protocol.”

  Basically, all existing Americans were to be slowly rounded up and inventoried into categories comprising of “Education,” which fell into Agenda 21’s definition of essential, and “Ill,” which fell into the definition of nonessential. Age was also a consideration. Children were separated from families and inventoried the same way, but utilizing a different protocol. They had to meet certain criteria to be considered essential. Buchanan was resolute in his desire to impede the progression of a holocaust-style event. His Marines were behind him one hundred percent.