TYRANT: The Rise

by L. Douglas Hogan

  “How many of you are out there?” the stranger asked.

  Denny could tell that this man wasn’t aware of any raids that had already happened, but might be interested in future raids. He could tell by the questions that were being asked that the man was definitely interested in their operation outside of Murphysboro.

  “Thousands,” Jack said, hoping to still the man’s mind of any future attacks.

  “There’s no need to lie to me,” the man said to Jack. “I’m not interested in taking from you. It’s just that we’ve been told that there’s a deadly virus out there, ravaging lives, and the only way to stay safe is to stay within city limits and not to let anybody in. I’m supposed to report you immediately.”

  “We’re here and we’re not sick,” Denny said. “Vehicle loads of men called the Southside Raiders have hit us and killed and injured our people, and stolen from us.”

  “I believe you.”

  The stranger lowered his gun and said, “My name is Rory Price. There’s men here doing unspeakable things. They’ve lied to us, telling us that we can’t leave because of a deadly virus that’s sweeping through the land. They’ve been killing American and UN soldiers that come through here, hanging their bodies from street signs. Tell me, how bad is it out there?”

  “It’s bad, but manageable,” Denny said. “We have a large community and just made an alliance with some Marines. The Mississippi River is secured for several miles along Route 3.”

  “Is it free? Liberty, I mean, can my family enjoy freedom there?”

  “As free as we can get it for what we’re going through, sir,” Denny said.

  Rory was a church pastor before the Flip. He had been a pastor for seventeen years in Murphysboro. Like everybody else in the area, where he lived, he had been groomed and manipulated by Cade Walker. What the pastor had told them was the truth; they had been led to believe that there was a massive viral pandemic plaguing the outside world and that the only way to remain alive was to stay within the confines of the area Cade controlled.

  The pastor had no reason not to believe him. He knew Cade was an evil man, but saw safety in his home, where he, his wife, and two daughters could live.

  As far as guns and gun violence go, Pastor Price had a system of belief. He was fluent in his Bible and a very patriotic American. He believed in liberty, both spiritually and in that which the Constitution granted. He believed that spiritual liberty was purchased through the blood of Christ, and American liberty was purchased through the blood of patriots and tyrants, both of them being absolutely necessary to freedom. That being said, he did not view killing as murder when it was done out of valor or virtue. Israel was brought to a land that “floweth with milk and honey,” yet it had to be cleansed of evil.

  “I was taking a nap when you boys came in. I must have forgotten to lock the back door. I don’t have much food, but what I have, you’re welcome to it,” he offered.

  “We’re good. Thank you,” Denny said. “Maybe you can help us by telling us more about the leader of this place?”

  “He’s hardly a leader. He’s a dictator and a very dangerous man. I avoid him at all costs. I go out only when I absolutely have to.”

  “What’s his name? Where does he live?”

  “His name is Cade Walker, and I don’t know where he lives. I don’t bother with such trivialities. I understand it’s important to you, but to me, that’s dangerous information.”

  “I understand,” Denny said. “Do you mind if we sit here and watch that road for a while? We might be able to find something of importance that way.”

  “No. I don’t mind at all. I haven’t had any visitors in quite some time.”

  “Thank you. We plan on being out of your hair in twenty-four hours; is that kosher?”

  “That’s perfectly fine. Just remember, I have children, and, oh, by the way, I almost forgot to introduce my wife.”

  Pastor Price went to the base of the stairs and called out, “Hey, Chris, we have company. It’s okay to come down.”

  Pastor Price’s wife’s name was Christina. People called her Chris for short. She came down the stairs with her two daughters, Sydni and Jessie. When Denny saw them, he tried to hide his rifle behind his back. The other men saw Denny and mimicked his attempt at trying to be discreet around the lady and children.

  “Oh, it’s okay,” the pastor said. “They grew up around firearms.”

  The men pulled their rifles back around and slung them over their shoulders. Denny went and began his watch out of the window. He took a pencil and writing tablet from his backpack to take notes on.

  “We’re going to run this in shifts, guys, so figure out your order. We’re going to be here all night. I’ll take two shifts,” Denny said.

  Cade figured his plan had gone wrong. He knew that Mark should have reported back to him by now. His most trusted man and best friend was sent after Thomas with very specific orders. Mark wasn’t one to mess things up when he was given a task. Cade now assumed he was dead and was growing in frustration as the hours ticked by.

  “Donald!” Cade called out.

  Donald was another member of Cade’s entourage. He wasn’t as trustworthy as Mark, but if there was an assignment to be had, Donald was eager to be recognized. Donald heard Cade’s call from the other room and shouted, “Coming.”

  As Cade waited for him to arrive, his mind began to wonder what had gone wrong. He remembered Scott had scouted out Gorham originally and brought back a girl. She’d killed him with a pen and escaped. He’d then sent an entire raiding party out, and they, too, were presumably dead. Now, he had sent out two more and hadn’t heard from either of them. He knew Scott had sealed his own fate and Thomas was an idiot by all Cade’s standards, but Mark was dear to Cade. Maybe having the Gorham crew come wasn’t such a good idea. Cade had already lost more people and resources than he had bargained for.

  Donald arrived and said, “You yelled?”

  “Yes, Captain Obvious, I yelled. Go round up whatever you can—any and all men, guns, vehicles, everything. We’re going to Gorham one more time, and this time, it will fall.”

  Denny was still at his turn of firewatch when he saw lots of movement. Several men began running from buildings and piling into vehicles. They were all doing U-turns and turning to face in his direction. Vehicles that he had figured as broken down or useless began to fire up. School busses pulled up to the street and men were loading into them.

  “Guys, something big’s going down,” Denny said.

  The others came and rallied behind him, looking through the white transparent curtain.

  “What are they doing?” Denny heard one of the voices behind him ask.

  “They’re getting ready for another search and rescue mission,” one of the little girls in the back said.

  Denny turned around and looked at the little girl. Her mom, Chris, had her hands on her shoulders.

  “It’s what we tell them when they leave like this,” Chris said.

  “How often do they leave like this?” Denny asked.

  The pastor looked at Denny and said, “Like this? Never.”

  “It’s a raid,” Denny said softly as he rationalized it, then yelled when it came to fruition.

  “IT’S A RAID!”

  Denny stood up and grabbed everything. He was running for the back door, loading his backpack as he went. Most of his men followed. Warren and Andy hesitantly stayed back to offer assistance to the pastor and his family.

  Jess was lying on her back, breaking twigs and the stems of fallen leaves, as she whispered sweet nothings to Nathan. It wasn’t her turn to watch, so Nathan didn’t mind the flirtatious behavior. It was refreshing for him to relax during a stressful situation.

  “Movement,” Nathan said. “We’ve got movement.”

  Everybody sprang to life and maintained a low profile as they peered over the berm. They saw vehicles moving off of the northbound and southbound lanes onto the road that ran east and west.

&nbs
p; “It looks like they’re parking…” Nathan started to say, but realized what was happening. “Staging,” he said. “They’re staging.”

  “We need to head back, now,” Jess insisted.

  About that time, Denny and five of his men came running from around the berm and into their line of sight. Nathan, Jess, and the others had rifles pointed at them, because they didn’t know for sure who was coming.

  “Boss, we have to go now. They’re staging another raid, and there’s no way we can beat them back.”

  Nathan and the Posse took off towards the horses. They were short a couple men, but there was no time to waste. As they ran, Nathan turned on the PRC-77 radio that Buchanan had given him. He began to call out on it, but there was nothing but silence. He tried again and again, but got no response.

  “Boss, it’s probably these dense woods and valleys,” Dennis said.

  “Here, you try,” Nathan said, handing it to Denny.

  Denny tried and failed the same as Nathan. The Posse stayed on track, pushing their way on foot towards their horses and losing time the whole way. In the near distance, they could hear diesel engines and trucks of various weights roaring down the road.

  By the time they got to their horses, they could no longer hear the convoy engines. Everybody that remained in the group feared the worst-case scenario.

  “What a fatal mistake I’ve made,” Nathan said to himself over and over again. All fifteen of them rode their horses hard. It would seem they were racing each other, but as it turned out, they were racing for the lives of those they loved. They were racing for the lives of those they shared memories and time with.

  Minutes faded into timelessness as they rode. Their minds were bent on one thing, getting to Gorham in time to help in the fight. Nathan was in the lead, while those behind him lost ground and soon were gone. He wasn’t looking back, only forward as he rode with his head tucked for greater aerodynamics.

  “They’re dying,” Nathan heard Denny yelling from behind him. This caused Nathan to ride all the harder.

  “Nathan, they’re dying. The horses, Nathan!”

  Nathan was so intensely focused that he failed to realize the context of what Denny was saying. It wasn’t until Denny could no longer be heard that he grasped what he was trying to say, but it was too late. Nathan’s horse stopped running and flopped over onto the ground. Nathan struggled to pull his leg out from under his horse, but the weight had pinned it tightly.

  “It’s okay, boy,” Nathan said to his horse. “I’m sorry,” he said, realizing that he was alone and that his horse had given the ultimate sacrifice.

  His horse’s breathing was shallow, and Nathan knew he was dying from overexertion. He lay on his back and looked for Denny and the others, but couldn’t see them. He returned his focus to pulling his leg out. It wasn’t until the weight of the horse caused an impression under Nathan’s leg in the soil that it was possible for him to get his leg out. It was just as Denny arrived, without his horse, that Nathan freed himself.

  Denny pulled Nathan up to his feet and said, “C’mon, boss, we’re not there yet. My sister needs saving. Let’s move.”

  Nathan and Denny were all that was left of the Posse. The others were left behind for the sake of getting a little closer to their destination.

  They entered a clearing where they could radio contact Buchanan. About that time, a vehicle could be heard coming over the horizon from the direction they had already traveled.

  It was a charter bus, and it was headed their way. They drew their weapons on it and waited for it to come closer. The bus was braking, and the two of them kept their weapons trained on the front of the bus as they walked on the roadway, bringing the door of the bus into view. When the door opened, their Posse members came running out.

  “Let’s go,” they heard them yell.

  Nathan and Denny ran for the bus and jumped on board with gladness, but sorrow still filled their hearts for the people of Gorham.

  “Oscar Nine, Oscar Nine, this is the Southern Illinois Home Guard. Do you copy?” Denny said on the radio.

  “Home Guard, this is Bravo One. I copy,” Buchanan returned.

  “Bravo One, there is a large group of tangos heading to the nest. I repeat, there is a large group of tangos headed to the nest. Over.”

  “Roger that, Home Guard. We are mounting up. Over and out,” Buchanan finished.

  “I just hope it’s not too late,” Denny said, looking at Nathan.

  Nathan noticed Andy was driving the bus and figured it had been swiped from Murphy. He then took a look toward the back of the bus and saw some new faces.

  “Who are the strangers?” Nathan asked.

  “We ran into this man and his family when we were spying on Murphy. He gave us shelter. He’s a pastor,” Denny added.

  “We’re going to need one,” Nathan said. He then looked back at Rory Price and said, “Can you say a prayer for us, padre?”

  “Will do,” Rory said as he stood and began to pray.

  Nathan stood and did a quick headcount. “Twenty-one,” he said. “That’s everybody.”

  Nathan stood up when the pastor was done praying and grabbed the microphone next to the driver’s seat. He looked back towards the group and began to speak. “Does everybody have a weapon?” he said as he raised his rifle into the air.

  Everybody but the girls was carrying at least a rifle. Some had both a pistol and rifle.

  “When we get there, there’s going to be shooting. If you are not armed, you need to stay concealed. I recommend the pastor and one other stay on the bus to defend his family and the bus. People will probably already be dead when we arrive. Try to keep your composure until we have cleared the area. There will be a time for mourning the loss of loved ones when we have concluded our work.”

  Nathan sat back down and took a big deep breath and exhaled slowly.

  “God help us,” he said.

  Buchanan and almost a full company of Marines were responding as quickly as they could muster and hit the road. Fuel was a precious resource that was dwindling, and its preservation proved difficult to manage. Buchanan was just hoping he could get to Gorham quickly enough to assist. He had pulled every CAAT member he could, and left bare bones at the prison base, including Captain Riley and Gunnery Sergeant Franks.

  The vehicles they had were internally regulated so that they could only travel forty-five to fifty mph. Working on the vehicles’ speed issue was something he had meant to do in the past. Now the mistake of not removing the regulators cost precious time and may cost several lives.

  The Posse was rapidly approaching their destination. Dennis took note of a large plume of smoke spiraling into the sky from Route 3, and naturally assumed the worst. His greatest fear was that Heather needed him, and he wasn’t there as he’d promised he would be. Everybody that had volunteered themselves as a veteran was in the charter bus.

  Jess was hoping the time she had spent with the girls on the range was paying off. Denny’s thoughts were of his sister, Heather, and her safety. Most of the others didn’t have relatives in Gorham. Jess was one of them. Her family was the Posse, now.

  The bus came flying into Gorham. The first thing they saw was burning homes and mostly females being chased by armed strangers. There didn’t seem to be anybody taking serious notice of the large charter bus that was coming to a stop from a high-speed approach.

  Perhaps they recognize the bus, Nathan thought.

  Every member of the Posse began analyzing what was happening. Each member was selecting an action to take when the bus came to a full stop.

  The bus door flew open and the Posse ran out, guns blazing. Sixteen of the seventeen members ran out the door with their rifles shouldered. They were selecting targets and pulling their triggers.

  Blake stayed on the bus with Rory, his wife, and children. Rory wanted to get in the fight, but he was concerned about leaving his family alone. He was facing a serious internal struggle, which included watching people outside
the bus die while he sat inside with his family. His conscience could no longer weigh on him. Pastor Price kissed his wife and daughters and told them to stay in the bus. Chris tried to stop him, but he jerked away from her and said, “I can’t. I have to help. People are dying.”

  Rory and Blake left together and joined in the fight. The first thing Rory spotted when he jumped off the bus was an elderly man dead on the lawn of a home. He appeared as though he had died of a gunshot wound. Not too far from him was a shotgun lying just out of the elderly man’s reach. Sitting on the porch was an elderly woman. He assumed she was the wife of the deceased. She was weeping bitterly.

  Gunshots could be heard from every direction and the sounds of people wailing in terror filled the air. Rory looked around and saw many fallen men and women. He just stood there, as if confused for a moment. It was the sound of Blake’s voice that jolted him back to the moment.

  “Get down, you fool. You’re going to get yourself shot,” Blake yelled at Rory.

  Blake was taking cover behind the corner of the fallen man’s house. Rory peeked around the corner and told the old woman to get inside and take cover.

  Blake looked around to see if he could spot any of his Posse brothers, but they were scattered into the wind. He took a moment to single out the sounds of individual gunshots. Maybe the sounds could be traced to members of the Posse firing on raiders. Sure enough, the next pop he heard was Morgan sending a round through the community. From his vantage point, Blake could not see if the shot had met with its intended target.

  “Listen, padre, we can’t sit here like this all day. We’re going to have to move and shoot, move and shoot,” Blake emphasized.

  “I’m not a veteran, mister, but I know how to shoot. I should be able to hit what I’m aiming at, but I don’t know who’s with us or who’s against us,” Rory said.

  “Neither do I.”