The Bonner Incident: Joshua's War

by Thomas A. Watson

  “Relax, Moore,” Tanner said soothingly. “We’ve done hundreds of studies and there may be a lot of tough men, but our studies have shown that ninety-percent will leave after the first battle.”

  “Who in the fuck did your studies?” Winters snapped. “Rioters fight harder than that and we aren’t talking gang bangers here. It was the CFR, Council of Foreign Relations, wasn’t it?”

  “Funny you should bring that up but those numbers, gangs, actually worry us more,” Tanner said and Schmidt fell back in his chair. “They have no regard for life and fight all the time. But as for who did the studies, that’s classified,” Tanner said with a wink and a nod.

  Tanner looked around at the shocked faces. “Please people, we have been slowly preparing the country for this. Our biggest concern is the workforce just stopping going to work. A country not being productive is a drain on resources.”

  Shaking his head, Moore leaned over the table. “So you think the population around here won’t fight when pushed?”

  “Oh, I’m sure they will, but when they see that we shoot back and have bigger weapons, they will stop and fall in line,” Tanner said. “The rest of the rednecks in the south will see it also, and it won’t have to be repeated many times.”

  “Colonel,” Schmidt said, still flopped back in his chair in shock. “We aren’t talking about rednecks. We are talking about working men and women fighting.”

  “I know, but Moore used the term,” Tanner said, looking at the stunned faces. “I see I’ve given you a lot to think about so, Moore, get your team and update your profile and give your recommendations. Schmidt, find where Joshua’s family has disappeared to.”

  “If you want me to walk in that house, fuck you,” Schmidt snapped, jumping up. “I’ve seen with my own eyes how good that fucker is booby trapping stuff. Hell, he blew up one of our bomb techs.”

  Moore and Winters looked at Schmidt in shock that he would challenge the colonel. Tanner looked off, thinking. “You’re that certain the house would be rigged?” Tanner asked.

  “One hundred percent,” Schmidt said, lifting his chin. “If my team had been in place, they could’ve told us his family was leaving and we could’ve popped his ass when he came to rig the house.”

  “You don’t think they are with Joshua?” Tanner asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “Not a chance in hell,” Schmidt said.

  Grinning, Tanner nodded, “Neither do I,” he said. “Okay, the house is off-limits to all personnel. Sooner or later, a local or hero worshiper will enter the house blowing themselves up and we can inform the country that Joshua is an indiscriminate killer.”

  “Colonel, the NSA tried that in the beginning, building a false history about Joshua. It didn’t work,” Winters said.

  “Yes, I’m aware,” Tanner said. “And to be honest, I think if we had video of Joshua killing infants that thirty percent of the population still wouldn’t believe it.”

  “So why worry about it?”

  Tanner looked at her hard. “We don’t want that thirty percent to get any bigger.”

  “Then Colonel, we must watch our own actions,” Moore said, dropping his cigarette into a water bottle. “If we continue running around killing boys that thirty percent is going to grow rapidly.”

  “That was stupid,” Tanner said. “Now, that is my area. Your area is getting me intel on Joshua.”

  “One last question,” Moore said, getting up. “Has the entire region been activated?”

  “No, only Bonner and Boundary Counties have been labeled in state of crisis,” Tanner said and Moore gave a sigh of relief. “Moore, I know there are a lot of guns out there and would like to get this done and pull back, until those in power get more guns out of the equation.”

  “Okay, I’ll get my team cranked up,” Moore said with an actual smile.

  As they walked out, Tanner called the others standing in the hall inside. Schmidt left them without saying a word. When they reached the doors, Winters hit Moore in the arm, “Give me a cigarette,” she snapped.

  “You’ve never smoked,” he said pulling the pack out.

  “Well, I need one now, damn it,” she said, grabbing the pack. “And your lighter,” she said, pulling a cigarette out. He handed over the lighter as she gave him the pack back. “I’ll be in shortly. I need a minute.”

  “Take your time,” Moore said, patting her arm and walked over to their building.

  “Thank God I took a chance,” she mumbled, lighting the cigarette with trembling hands and coughed, drawing in the smoke. It normally took two days for her message to get to her unit of Minutemen, but with the constant surveillance now on all email and phone, she’d only got the message she had given Ernest out yesterday.

  What she didn’t know was that Ernest had gotten the message out. He’d notified the units he was connected to and they’d relayed it out. The Blue Ridge Minutemen got her message that she had given Ernest from another unit before they got hers.

  Many of the attacks were by ordinary people, but the majority of attacks were from those who knew America was the people, not the government. Some were Minutemen; others were just small groups of working people and friends who were tired of being run over and having everything taken while those in Washington made millions. It was once again, time for the government to fear the people, the only real reason any government wanted weapons out of the hands of the citizens.

  An armed man was a citizen; an unarmed man was a subject.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Riding all night, only stopping to record the small burst of noise that Ernest had sent, Joshua didn’t even listen to it and instead, listened to the radio the feds were using. Joshua heard Tanner come on and tell the teams that he was in charge now. Joshua had never heard about the executive orders Tanner spouted and wished he could look them up. Unlike any other time, there was much more chatter on the radio.

  Stopping along a ridge and looking in the valley below, Joshua saw a dim campfire half a mile away. Glancing at his watch, seeing it was 3:48 a.m., he knew he had to move fast. Steering King through the trees, he got within two hundred yards.

  Climbing off, Joshua looked back at the pack saddle on Jack. “Well, it is quieter than even a suppressed gun,” he said, taking his compound bow off.

  Carrying the bow in his left hand, Joshua gripped the M4, aiming it ahead with his right hand as he slipped through the woods, closing on the camp. He saw eight of the pop-up tents and wondered why the number varied so much from team to team. On the radio, he’d heard of teams talking about the number of agents that refused to go out because they were sick but hell, couldn’t they just grab another man to take his place. So those that claimed they were sick were forced to go out or face disciplinary action.

  The team was camped in a small clearing next to a stream and Joshua knelt down, putting the bow down softly. Keeping his hand on the M4, he lifted the thermal scope up to his eye with his left. Seven of the tents were a brighter white than one and Joshua saw a man sitting next to a tree.

  Keeping the scope on the man for several minutes, Joshua could swear the man was asleep. ‘I can’t sleep like that damn it’ he thought, lowering the thermal. Putting it up, Joshua flipped the monocular over his left eye and picked up the bow.

  Swinging around the camp till he was facing the man leaning against the tree, Joshua moved closer, letting the M4 hang at his side. Pulling an arrow out of the side-mounted quiver, Joshua crept up till he was twenty yards from the man. Nocking the arrow, Joshua pulled the eighty-pound compound bow back.

  It was dark with more clouds rolling in and Joshua could see his aiming pins with his right eye. The problem was his left eye could see just fine and his brain wanted to use that view. Finally, he closed his left eye, seeing just the man’s outline and rested the pin on the man’s head as he relaxed his breathing.

  Twang- sounded as he released the arrow and Joshua almost dove to the ground, expecting the men to be charging out of the tents. He heard
the arrow hit the tree with a thunk and grabbed his M4 aiming, but only saw the outline twitching.

  Realizing his left eye was closed, he opened it to see the shaft of the arrow sticking out between the man’s eyes as his body jerked against the tree. “Well, guess since elk have a hard time hearing a bow people do too,” he mumbled, letting the M4 hang at his side again and pulled another arrow.

  With the arrow nocked, holding the bow in his left hand, he crept up to the first tent and pulled his knife out. Lightly pressing the blade on the fabric he pulled the knife down as the razor edge split the fabric. Making a six-inch cut he could see the man inside sleeping with his mouth open.

  Putting his knife down, Joshua pulled the bow back, aiming at the man’s head that was almost at his feet. Letting the string go –twang- sounded as did the sound of the broad head punching through the man’s skull. Dropping his bow, Joshua saw only the feathers sticking out of the man’s nose. The rest of his thirty-four-inch arrow had passed through, burying into the ground.

  Moving from tent to tent, Joshua continued till he reached number seven. He put his bow down and moved up, cutting a hole and then moved to the last tent cutting a hole. Seeing where the men were, he raised his M4 aiming at the first one and squeezing the trigger.

  Pfft sounded from the suppressed shot making Joshua realize just how quiet that bow really was as he swung his rifle to the other tent, seeing the man sitting up. He squeezed the trigger when his sight rested on the man’s head.

  Seeing the man’s head explode, Joshua lowered his rifle. “Sorry, I only had six arrows, the rest are on Jack, and I didn’t feel like going back,” he said and moved to each tent, pulling out the backpacks and rifles.

  Finding more grenades, Joshua sighed looking at the bodies, “No, I’m sure I won’t get any more that way,” he said and continued to rummage in the packs.

  Taking a small pile, Joshua pulled some of the bodies out and arranged them, then pulled out a deck of cards. Blinking his eyes, Joshua tried to get his tired brain working. Giving up, he pulled out his small notebook to find out where he was in this game.

  “Well, we need a full house for this hand,” he grinned, fanning the cards out and pulling out the cards he needed. Like the scrench, loggers had lots of cards. The truth of the game was only to keep his mind active. The short naps he was taking during the day and nights were starting to catch up and taking a toll.

  Putting the cards beside the man sitting, Joshua put the deck up and picked up the bag of supplies. “Ding,” he said, with a grin. “Like my son would say, by George, I have an idea.”

  Putting his bag down, he grabbed the radio and took off the cover for the battery. Taking the battery out, he tried to fit a grenade in the cover but the cover wouldn’t close. “We will conquer,” Joshua said, grabbing a coat and laying it down. He pulled out his knife, then jabbed it into the bottom of the radio.

  Using the blade like a shovel, Joshua scooped out the broken electronics. It took several tries but he was finally able to fit the grenade inside and close the battery cover. Undoing the cover, Joshua pulled the pin on the grenade. Squeezing it so tight his hand hurt, he put it in the battery housing, slowly closing the door till he couldn’t hold the spoon.

  Letting go quickly and shutting and locking the battery cover, Joshua cringed and closed his eyes waiting for the explosion. Realizing over a minute had passed, he opened his eyes, letting out a long sigh. “I’m taking a nap,” he said, grabbing the coat and rolling it up with the broken electronics and battery. Tossing down his scrench, Joshua got up.

  Making a change to the cards, he set the radio near a pack. Joshua had the spare batteries and hoped those that came didn’t try to repair it in the field. “Time for some shut-eye,” he said, picking up his bow.

  When he climbed on King, King gave a snort, wiggling his ears. “Hey, we are going to take a nap, so don’t talk to me that way,” Joshua snapped, grabbing the reins.

  At dawn, he was over a mile away from the area, moving into a small draw. Checking his map, he made sure no other patrols were close. “It’s getting really crowded here, time to spread the love,” he said, folding the map up. Taking his helmet off, Joshua looked out at King and Jack eating their grain. “We’ll head to the dugout for a day or two,” he said, laying back and was soon fast asleep.

  The sound of a helicopter a few hours later made him stir as Joshua’s body demanded sleep. Pulling out of his sleep, Joshua yawned and grabbed his spotting scope. Crawling out of the draw, Joshua went to see who had shown up at his latest attack.

  ***

  Sitting in the briefing room, Moore looked at the cards he had recovered from Joshua’s latest attack as Tanner carried on with the others in the meetings. Tanner glanced over to see Moore staring at the cards in the plastic bag and Winters staring at her laptop, making notes.

  “That will be all,” Tanner said. He looked over to see that neither Winters nor Moore were moving to leave. “I’m glad you are staying,” he said, and Moore looked up with a startle.

  “Huh?” he said, looking around and seeing the others leaving.

  When Moore started to push back, Tanner stopped him. “Hold, I want to talk.”

  When the last person had left, Tanner got up, walking back to the table loaded with snacks, “I have to say, seeing Joshua’s work firsthand is impressive. But I think he’s a little perverted,” Tanner said, loading a plate.

  “He changes his MO too much to be predictable,” Winters mumbled, writing as she looked at the screen of her laptop.

  “Ah, but soldiers do that,” Tanner said, walking back carrying a plate loaded with snacks.

  Whipping her head back to sling her hair over her shoulder, Winters shook her head. “No, Colonel, they don’t. They may change plans, but a good soldier can look at the remains of an attack and tell if it’s someone he’s fought.”

  Grabbing a napkin and wiping his mouth, Tanner nodded. “That is true, but I’m curious as to how you know.”

  “She’s a military brat,” Moore said, staring at the cards. “Don’t play trivia with her unless you’re on her team because she loves to read.”

  Winters rolled her eyes, “Moore, I always let you answer the sports questions,” she said and turned to Tanner. “Like I said, even a soldier, be he a grunt or commander will use attacks he has used before because he knows they’ve worked. The only reason I can pin these attacks on Joshua is he leaves that damn scrench with his thumbprint. Each scene is different.”

  Grabbing a can of soda, Tanner took a drink, shaking his head. “No, there is one thing that tells me it’s Joshua,” he said, putting the can down. “None of the attacks have been hands on.”

  Throwing up her hands, “Oh come on, just because he hasn’t gutted someone with a knife, you can’t make that assumption. You’re a soldier, so you know how hard it is to kill a human with a knife.”

  “Yes, I do,” Tanner said, with an expression Winters didn’t like. “Now, I’m no forensic expert, but those arrows were shot from very close range.”

  “All but the agent against the tree were feet away,” Moore said, leaning back and still looking at the cards. “Why the hell did he leave a joker? Is it supposed to be an eight or queen?” he sighed.

  “Like I-,” Tanner started, but Winters let out a gasp as her eyes got big, spinning to her computer. She tapped the touch pad several times, then grabbed her notebook.

  Tanner just continued eating, not wanting to interrupt either of their thought processes. “Moore, look,” she finally said, sliding the notebook over. “If you get the deck we first discovered, and break the cards down into five more hands. Then, compare them to what Joshua has left.”

  Moore looked over, “Yeah, he beat us every time.”

  “No shit, he’s alive, smart-ass,” she popped off. “Look at the difference. He left a Royal Flush at his cabin and this hand had two pairs. Joshua’s telling us he beat us easy.”

  Moore gave her a skeptical look. “Wait, lo
ok at what he left at that attack where he took the orders, clearing agents to shoot anyone, he barely won. He’s saying he almost lost.”

  Looking at the hands, Moore nodded. “Okay, so how does that help us?”

  “Moore, you’ve seen the pictures, Joshua left stuff that he normally gets that time. He missed two hand grenades. He made the choice to attack too fast. You’ve seen the video of that attack last night-.”

  “Whoa, another video?” Tanner interrupted.

  Winters and Moore looked at him, surprised he didn’t know. “Um, yeah the NSA forwarded me a copy before they shut the site down,” Winters said.

  “I want to see it later, but please continue,” Tanner said, putting his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his hands.

  “So, anyway,” Winters said, turning to Moore. “Joshua was only like fifteen to twenty yards away when he opened fire and the cards he left, his hand only won because he had a king for a high card.”

  “I still don’t see how that helps.”

  “Moore, Joshua doesn’t like attacking until he plans it out. He can’t make attacks up quickly,” Winters said, hoping Moore and Tanner were buying it. “He can’t pass up a target, but likes to plan. Hell, look at his traps. That man can make traps to rival the Goonies.”

  “True,” Moore said as Tanner made a mental note to find out what the hell a goonie was. “So why the joker?”

  “I don’t know. It beats our two pairs, but not by much.”

  “You think he just happened up on them?” Moore asked hesitantly.

  “No,” Winters said. “I think he stumbled across them while hunting. He’s an avid bow hunter and we know he has tons of ammo.”

  “That I can see,” Moore said, and Tanner nodded.

  “Most of their food was gone,” Tanner said.

  “That’s why I said, he was hunting,” Winters said slowly.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” Tanner said.

  “Why in the hell would he tell us he almost lost?” Moore said, picking up her notebook.