TYRANT: The Rise

by L. Douglas Hogan

  “Where are the living quarters?” Muhaimin asked.

  “They cannot be seen from the perimeter fence of the compound, and the residents of Goose Island cannot see the outside world, with the exception of the sky.”

  When the motorcade had come to the northwest end of the island, they entered through a gate and arrived at a helicopter landing pad.

  The general exited the limousine and walked up to the regional czar.

  Regional Czar Jennings extended his hand to the general and Muhaimin shook it, not out of respect or honor, but because he was playing the role of placating a subjugated government employee. Everybody knew better, but they went along with the ruse.

  The helicopter door was opened for them, and they entered the helicopter. They put on their high-tech helicopter helmets, complete with the best in modern communication and noise-reduction technologies.

  The door was closed and they were alone with the aviator. Muhaimin watched as the motorcade was pulling out and leaving the compound. The whirl of the propellers was becoming deafening until both men turned their helmets on. After that, all they heard was each other.

  “Enough of the shenanigans,” Jennings said. “We both know why you’re here. There’s no need to continue on with this display of subordination.”

  Muhaimin looked at Jennings and smirked. “Your frankness is refreshing, Mr. Jennings. It’s the first I’ve had all day.”

  Muhaimin turned his head to look down at the compound as they were rising into the sky. From this altitude, he could see the housing barracks and the residents being herded into lines, reminiscent of the pictures Muhaimin had seen of the 1930s American Great Depression and its bread lines.

  “How many people can it house?” the general asked Jennings.

  “Five hundred thousand, no more,” he replied.

  “How do you keep them from coitus?” the general asked.

  “No one is left unsupervised. We have a selection process, and through that process, we determine who procreates.”

  The general’s curiosity just kept piquing as he had more and more questions to ask. “And what of disease?”

  “Infections, bacteria, viruses, and such are closely monitored and vigorously controlled,” Jennings said to the general, and then looked out the window saying, “And if we can’t control it, they go there.”

  Jennings motioned with his head toward the old Indiana Harbor and Ship Canal.

  Muhaimin looked out the window and saw a large brown junk of scorched-looking outlands that protruded into the tip of Lake Michigan.

  “The old steelworks, as it used to be called, is where they keep everybody imprisoned that are not ‘sustainable,’” Jennings said. “It’s necessary for smart growth,” he added.

  Smart growth was the language written into the United Nations Agenda 21 initiative for sustainable development. It was initially meant to be a volunteer effort, but with human habitation reaching perpetual new heights, world leaders forced it into motion through pressure on national leaders. Where democracy did not exist, it was simple, but where freedom was, there were also complications in the initiation of the agenda.

  The United States had become a cancer to the global community in the sense that lower economic cities across the world could not compete with US cities. The UN saw the US as having a monopoly on world economic status. The idea was to initiate Agenda 21 and force the US into redistribution of its wealth. Congressional approval wasn’t being met, so President Baker hatched a sinister plan to bring about Agenda 21 through executive orders.

  Agenda 21 was enacted under the guise of martial law. Martial law was enacted under guise of protestors, whether peaceful or otherwise. The primary goal became sustainable development through the control of all natural and man-made resources.

  Resource control was the least of all the evils found in Agenda 21. The word “sustainability” had a more ominous definition when keyed into the context of the agenda. It meant “population control through control of land and resources.”

  CHAPTER XIX

  Chester, Illinois

  Buchanan and Franks stood with a handful of POWs, including a UN captain, at the front gate of the state penitentiary.

  Buchanan had taken his time interrogating the captain, but he wasn’t telling them anything.

  Buchanan called for a young Marine with a PRC-77 on his back, and used it to contact Reynolds. He asked Reynolds if he could waterboard a particular POW. Reynolds was trained in the technique and agreed to pick up the POW and secure him elsewhere. Meanwhile, Buchanan had gathered enough information to know that there was a combination of state inmates and civilians detained in the prison.

  The other POWs refused to talk while the captain was present, but now that he was away, Buchanan became more rigorous with the questioning. He grabbed a UN soldier and laid him on his abdomen. He took his pistol from the holster and pressed it into his head.

  Buchanan had all the POWs turn around and face away from him. “Now, I know you speak English, so start talking. What am I going to find in there?” Buchanan said.

  When the man refused to talk, he knocked him out with the handle of his pistol and shot a round into the ground next to his head, giving the appearance to the other POWs that he had just assassinated the POW.

  Buchanan grabbed another one and forced him to the ground. This man began weeping and begging and then started talking about their mission. His accent was a strong Middle Eastern one.

  “We are here for the changing of the guard. The old guards were reported as being too incompetent,” he cried.

  “Who’s left inside?” Buchanan asked, with his pistol pressed against the man’s head.

  “Only the tower guards and the armory. They were going to be neutralized after they were relieved,” the man said.

  Buchanan concocted a plan of having his Marines dress as UN uniformed guards to gain access to the remaining security points. The ploy would be that they had just crushed an insurrection outside the gates to cover for the gunfire that the interior guards must have heard.

  The Marines began dressing in the UN uniforms and proceeded carefully with their POW.

  The Marines now boldly walked up to the tower door and gave it a heavy knock. Their radio response came back in broken English. The POW spoke on the radio and told him his relief was here. When the doors were opened, the guards were taken prisoner and lined up with the POWs outside.

  Eventually, all the POWs were escorted inside and confined in segregation cells. Buchanan had just successfully seized the Menard Correctional Facility and had a commanding presence in the guard towers.

  Buchanan’s mind now shifted to separating the civilians from the inmates.

  Buchanan and Franks found the main administration building and announced on the loudspeaker, “This is Lieutenant Colonel Buchanan of the United States Marine Corps. We have seized control of this institution and you are hereby commanded to freeze any and all activity and report back to your housing area immediately. You will be approached by Marines and given instructions on how to secure your God-given freedoms as Americans. No longer are you required to relocate unless you voluntarily choose to do so. I say again, freeze any and all activity, and report to your housing area, where you will be provided with instructions.”

  “Franks,” Buchanan said.

  “Here, sir.”

  “Get your men spread out and see if you can determine civilian from inmate.”

  “Yes, sir,” Franks said. “Sergeant up,” he called out.

  A platoon sergeant stepped up. “What’s up, Gunny?”

  “I need every occupant of this prison located and identified as either state prisoner or UN prisoner. Then I want them separated. You understand?”

  “Got it, Gunny,” the sergeant said before he walked off barking orders to his subordinate Marines.

  “Echo Seven Foxtrot, Echo Seven Foxtrot, this is Sierra Fife Victor. Over,” the radio rang out. A sergeant from the front gate was attempting t
o contact Franks.

  “Sierra Fife Victor, this is Echo Seven Foxtrot. Proceed.”

  “Echo Seven Foxtrot, one of our papas is an American. Over.”

  Franks cringed at the thought of an American being employed by the UN. He stopped what he was doing and proceeded to the front gate, where he met up with the outside security.

  “What do we have?” Franks asked.

  The Marine brought him a POW that claimed to be an American employed by the UN.

  Franks looked at the man and said, “Do you want to explain yourself? Start with why you betrayed your country!”

  The man looked up at Franks and said, “It wasn’t intentional. I took an assignment under the command of another American UN commander and was eventually assigned here. I never knew the UN would be used as an invasion force or utilized to take Americans prisoner.”

  Franks just stared at the man and waited for him to spill more. Eventually he did. The nervousness of having a Marine Corps gunnery sergeant looking down on him took over.

  “I was an Army Security Forces soldier when this went down. Honestly, I’ve been manning that tower and doing nothing, literally, nothing. Just a warm body in a tower. I even chose extra guard-tower duty to insure nobody else would take it and act foolishly. I’ll tell you everything you need to know.”

  “Do you know you were moments away from being assassinated by your replacement group?” Franks asked, pointing over to the Marines that were hoisting the bodies of the original UN security forces up into train cars.

  The man looked at the Marines and turned back to Franks. “I didn’t know. I thought it was a simple change of the guard.”

  “Stand up,” Franks commanded. “You’re going to stay in cuffs, for now. Follow me.”

  Franks took the man inside to where Buchanan was seated in one of the administrative offices.

  Buchanan looked at Franks, just for a second, then opened his arms and said, “I like this office. What do you think, Gunny?”

  “I think it’s a wonderful choice, sir, with an excellent view of the walls,” Franks joked.

  “What do we have here?” Buchanan asked, pointing a pen at the man Franks brought in.

  “Sir, my name is Specialist Matt Leboe. I was stationed at Camp Taji, Iraq, before I received orders to reassign here. Upon entering my new post, I saw several UN shipments of American hostages. I didn’t know where they came from and I didn’t ask questions. They were dropped off here, and I took responsibility for them.”

  “He said he’s done quite a bit of tower duty, too. He stated that he worked the tower to disengage from the work his peers were engaged in,” Franks said.

  “Tell me about your guard-duty assignments, Specialist,” Buchanan said.

  “There’s not much to tell, really. Pockets of resisters stop by once in a while and shoot at the place, but they’re usually dealt with by perimeter security. I’ve had chances to shoot at them and I always report back that they’re out of range or out of sight picture,” Matt explained.

  “What else?” Buchanan asked.

  “Well, sir, we expect periodical shipments from the Mississippi River. They’re coming in from the Gulf of Mexico and heading north to Chicago.”

  “What’s in Chicago?” Franks asked.

  “That’s where the regional command structure is. Ever since the US grid went down, FEMA has been given command over all military and law enforcement.”

  “Not all,” Buchanan exclaimed.

  “Obviously, sir,” the man said. “But for the most part, FEMA is running what’s left of the United States and using the United Nations as the muscle behind the agenda.”

  “Agenda?” Franks inquired.

  “Yes, they’re pushing some kind of stuff that everybody used to think was conspiracy theory, but it’s not, it’s real.”

  Buchanan looked at Franks and said, “He must be talking about the global redevelopment initiative titled Agenda 21.”

  “That’s it,” Matt said. “They’re clearing out all this land and shipping people to compounds, where they’re managed.”

  “Managed?” Franks asked.

  “I don’t know how they’re managed, just that they are processed however they are processed.” Matt continued looking at them and could see that each of them were deep in thought. “The only people that know what’s going on in those compounds are the people that work there.”

  “When did you say your next shipment was coming in?” Buchanan asked.

  “By ‘periodical’ I meant ‘random.’ I actually have no idea when the barges will float in.”

  “Do they know we’re here?”

  “They only know that there have been attacks on the shipments earlier, and they immediately sent choppers to patrol the river along the area of engagement. I hear they’ve lost two whole shipments.”

  “We only took one. Where was the other seized?”

  “Just outside the gate and south a couple hundred yards. Radio traffic said it was a militia group. It was the first attack. After that, patrols were sent,” Matt told them.

  Buchanan looked at Franks with resolve in his eyes and said, “Gunny, we need to find this militia and determine their level of patriotism.”

  “I’m on it, sir.”

  Gunnery Sergeant Franks left and rounded up some reconnaissance Marines. Then they jumped in an HMMWV and drove to the Chester Welcome Center, where they had set up the CP for the earlier assault on the UN guards.

  Gunny had his HMMWV parked next to Reynolds’ HMMWV and got out of the vehicle and walked into the visitors’ center, where he saw Reynolds and some of his Rangers. They had just finished waterboarding the UN Captain.

  Franks walked up to Reynolds and shook his hand. “What did you find out?”

  “Well, he was a tough one to crack, but we were able to determine the routes and points of access the UN is using to enter the US.”

  “Go on,” Franks said.

  “We were right about the use of the Mississippi River to ferry prisoners and UN equipment. They’re entering the Midwest areas using the river from the Gulf of Mexico and making key stops along the way to pick up civilians for the purpose of sustainable development initiative. They’re also coming in, via ship, the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. From the north, they’re entering from Canada.”

  Franks was deeply worried about the new information. He knew, without a doubt, that the US President had cleared them or they wouldn’t becoming in unchecked.

  “Did you find out anything about their size, locations, units, equipment?” Franks asked.

  “We’re looking at the world’s resources as far as size and equipment go. The number of troops could be innumerable and the equipment really depends on what countries have pledged their equipment to the cause. He didn’t mention anything about anti-armor, but it looks like heavy guns are definitely here.”

  “What about air power, anti-air, attack boats?”

  “He mentioned something about having the answer to our technological superiority, but he clammed up after that.”

  “Okay, listen up. Have a couple of your guys take him back to the prison. Nobody knows we have control of this prison now, so we’re going to utilize it until we know otherwise.”

  Reynolds gave the order to his men and then turned back to Franks. “Anything else?”

  “Yes, actually”—Franks was strapping his Kevlar helmet back onto his chin—“let’s grab the rest of your crew and the reconnaissance Marines. We’re going hunting.”

  CHAPTER XX

  Gorham, Illinois, October 29

  Nobody in the Southern Illinois Home Guard could console Nathan for his loss. Denny spent time with his sister, Heather, that night. He, like so many others, had forgotten what it meant to have family. For a night, Denny didn’t take her for granted, but made the most of his visit.

  Heather and Katie were not best friends, but they spent quite a bit of time together because of Nathan and Denny’s brotherhood. They were always at each other
’s family reunions and barbeques. For now, Heather showered in the attention she was getting from Denny. That is, until there were loud pounds on the door of Heather’s house.

  Denny grabbed his pistol and ran over to the door. He peeked out the shades and saw Nathan. He was all disheveled and wearing the same clothes he was wearing the previous day, which wasn’t uncommon, but he was still covered in Katie’s blood.

  The entire camp had cleared the remaining raiders out last night and left those who had lost loved ones alone. Denny hadn’t seen Nathan since he had helped him bury Katie. Nathan had left the grave site and disappeared into the camp. Now he was back and pounding on his sister’s door.

  Denny holstered the pistol and opened the door and beat Nathan to the punch. “Nathan, I’m here for you, but think this through.”

  “They’ve got to die, Denny! They can’t just walk into our homes and kill our people,” Nathan said with a raspy voice, as if he had been screaming all night.

  “What do you want to do?” Denny caved.

  “Just your support. I’ll put together a plan.”

  With that, Nathan walked off. Denny left the door open, briefly, and felt bad for Nathan. He gently closed the door and looked at Heather.

  “I know what I’d do if anything ever happened to you,” he told her. “I can’t expect anything less from Nathan.”

  Denny walked over to Heather and put his arms around her.

  “When things go down, I want you to know that I love you, and I’ll never let anything happen to you. I’ll always be here for you. That’s why I have to help Nathan. They have to be killed so that this doesn’t happen again, so that nothing happens to you,” Denny said to Heather with reassuring eyes.

  Denny grabbed his gear, rifle, and pistol. He made sure his karambit was in his pocket and that his guns were loaded. He double-checked the chambers to make sure the rounds were securely in place. He tidied up his appearance, gave Heather a hug, and opened the front door.

  “I love you, dork,” Denny heard her say as he closed the door. He stood at the base of the steps and took a moment to look around and gather his composure.