American Exodus

by JK Franks

  “Care to elaborate more?” Steve asked.

  “Not really, not yet. I need to think about this for a bit. It . . . it changes things.” He took out his small, brown leather notebook and began jotting down something.

  Although they had not been traveling together long, this was the first time Steve had seen the man flustered. Something about the broadcast had registered badly with Gerald. He had no idea what, though. The speech sounded like just more politico gobbledygook to him. He did wonder again if he should head to one of the relief centers. That was probably what his wife and son would be doing by now. Maybe Gerald was wrong, and they were actually there to supply aid. He gave up thinking about it and drifted off to sleep.

  “Wake up, Steve,” came the urgent whisper.

  “Huh . . . what?” He leaned up until a sharp pain from his bruised ribs caused him to wince. It was still dark, but he saw the deeper shadow of Gerald kneeling and heard rustling sounds from where JD had slept.

  Gerald leaned in, “Get your ass up, we have got to move.”

  “It’s the middle of the night. Is someone out there? Are we in danger?”

  “Just shut-up, grab your gear and follow me. JD, you ready? Here’s your pack, tie off your bedroll and let’s move.”

  Steve now could see flashlight beams in the distance and heard voices. What in the fuck was going on? He quickly gathered his few supplies and crammed them into his pack.

  Gerald grabbed his arm. “Keep that pistol in your belt. We may need it.”

  He felt more than saw the other two as they left the campsite and moved deeper into the woods away from the searching men, whoever they were. “Who is that, Gerald? Who are they looking for?” He got no response. Twice he caught a toe on an exposed root and nearly went down. Gerald and the boy were easily outpacing him through the dark woods. He didn’t like bringing up the rear. Then a shot rang out. Then another.

  Gerald didn’t pause or duck but kept moving forward. “They aren’t shooting at us, but let’s not give them the opportunity,” he said over his shoulder in a low whisper. Steve’s pace had sped up noticeably, closing the distance to the other two. Up ahead, he heard JD run into something with a thud, then the boy whimpered in pain.

  “Fence,” Gerald said. “Barbed wire.” “JD, are you ok?”

  “Yes sir, I think.” He could almost make out the figure untangling himself from the metal hooks on the thin strands of the fence. In the darkness, they had been invisible, and JD had hit them at full speed. They would leave wounds, but that was a problem for later. Gerald helped get the boy unhooked and then parted the two lower strands of wire to let Steve, then JD and himself slide through. More shots rang out, seemingly closer this time. Whomever or whatever the guys were after was coming nearer.

  Ten minutes later they broke from the treeline into a cleared pasture. “Run,” Gerald said as he took the lead. Steve’s chest was on fire, his ribs throbbing, but he ran trying to silence the noise being made by the items in his pack. JD was falling back, unable to keep up with Gerald who seemed like a man possessed. Damn, the old dude is in good shape. They made it into the far tree line just as the rays of light began stabbing through the woods they had just left.

  Each of them was winded and breathing heavily. Gerald motioned for them to stop behind some thick bushes. The search party emerged on the far side of the clearing. At least a dozen spread out with lights sweeping in long deliberate arcs over the tall grass. “Guess they aren’t hunting deer,” Steve whispered.

  Gerald leaned against his ear. “Don’t whisper, it carries much farther than you realize. If they have NCGs, we’re fucked. But since they seem to be relying on flashlights, we may have a chance. Just don’t make a sound.”

  Steve nodded, trying to process it. The fog of sleep was fully dissipated now, but none of this made any sense to him. A twinge of pain at the back of his neck sent panic through his body. Tension was an enemy of his as it could trigger headaches. Focus on the task at hand. He held an arm around JD and noticed numerous dark spots across his light-colored shirt. That fence had gotten him good, but he hadn’t complained. This kid was a trooper, that was obvious. He felt Gerald pulling on the back of his shirt, wanting him to follow. He pulled JD, too, and all three began moving slowly away from the searching men.

  It was nearly an hour before they stopped. The first blush of daylight was sweeping across the sky as they came into a clearing with row after row of tall, round hay bales. Gerald climbed on top of the bales and helped the other two up. They moved to the center of the mass and lay down, grateful for the rest.

  The hay smelled fresh like it had been cut in just the last few weeks. Steve lay back on the rounded hump enjoying the relatively cool, soft bed. “Think we are safe yet?”

  “No idea, but we had to take a break. I haven’t heard any shots in a while.”

  JD asked the obvious questions: “Who were those guys? What did they want?”

  “Soldiers of some sort is my guess.” Gerald shrugged out of his pack and wedged it into a low spot between bales. “Something woke me up. Guess I wasn’t sleeping too well after that radio address. I thought I heard somebody yell, then saw lights coming our way. Figured we needed to not be there anymore.”

  “Why do you think they were soldiers? Couldn’t it have just been hunters or something?”

  Gerald shook his head. “They were well trained, moved very precisely and deployed in a way to offer multiple firing lanes. I’m not sure who they were after, but it seemed serious. After the radio broadcasts, I just know we better not take any chances.”

  Steve was puzzled and rubbed his temples. “Why is that? I noticed you seemed very concerned with what you heard. It didn’t sound too bad to me. Made me wonder if we shouldn’t all go to one of those relief camps.”

  Gerald leaned back on his pack and gave a slight smile. “If I had to guess, that was where that person was trying to get away from—the one the soldiers were chasing. I don’t think they want anyone spreading the truth about the camps.”

  “Gerald, why do I again get the feeling you know what is going on?”

  23

  Just over 700 miles to the north, a Marine helicopter gently touched down on the well-manicured lawn. The massive wooden door to the stately mansion opened as Madelyn Chambers, the secretary of transportation, was ushered into one of the estate’s large wood-paneled parlors. She felt, as always, the opposing emotions of dread and excitement at being summoned here.

  “Madelyn,” came the clear, feminine voice from behind an enormous writing desk, positioned at the far end of a small conference table. “So very good of you to stop by this morning. Caught your speech last night. Quite a performance, I must say.”

  “Thank you, Ms. Levy. I appreciate that.”

  “Let me get right to it. I know you have a busy schedule, and I am heading out shortly. Have you mobilized all of your people?”

  “Yes, ma’am, we have just under 70,000 armed TSA agents being deployed as instructed.”

  That was quite a bit more than any public record would ever indicate, but with an annual budget of almost eighty billion dollars, a lot of things in the Transportation Department could go unnoticed.

  “Has David over at Homeland given you access to the CBP forces as well?”

  “Yes, he has. Forty thousand agents being temporarily reassigned to work under my department's direction. Some issue in getting the word out to everyone, but we anticipate no problems.”

  “You should.” Ms. Levy paused to take a pill that was sitting on her desk with a drink of water. She held the glass up to catch the morning light streaming in from the high windows. “Amazing, isn’t it?” She set the glass back down on the ornate desk. “Madelyn, problems will be part of this, make no mistake. Lives are at stake. Many more will be lost. Dangerous people smell opportunity. Now that Catalyst Protocols are in effect, we all have our jobs to do. I need to know we can count on you to do what is expected. Your combined militia will work with our
guard assets who are already in place. You must ensure they secure all vital infrastructure, get the designated individuals to reserve centers, maintain strategic agriculture production and please make damn sure the bio labs are secure.”

  The secretary paused before answering. “I can do what is expected. I struggle with the suffering I see, but I know we have to do what is best for the country.”

  “The country. Yes, of course. These are tragic times; the CME was devastating. Who knew a solar flare could do so much damage. It was one of our most dreaded scenarios, but the crises offer us a rare opportunity. We now have the chance for a full reset. Eliminate the parasitic vermin who live on the backs of hard-working Americans. Get rid of our broken political and monetary system that has long struggled to keep pace. Sadly, this, reduction of the burden is the only way to achieve this—and we can save the most important among us. The rest will have to . . . ”—she faded off—“fend for themselves. Tell me, dear, what is your boss doing about his Navy going rogue?”

  Madelyn had heard that numerous fleet commanders and even several in naval command were no longer responding to presidential directives. “He has sent an envoy down to the Gulf and also blocked the fleet from leaving out of port in Virginia.”

  “The idiot, he never had any real control. Guess that is why we put him there, but you would think he could do something. Madelyn, you know you can be the next one to occupy the White House . . . or whatever we choose to be our next capital. Unlike most of the rest, you would actually know who gave you this position. For that to happen, you do what is needed—you cannot be weak. Do you understand me?”

  “Of course, ma’am, of course. We have prepared our contingencies for years: secure the food, the water, the transportation and cut-off the regular military. Full command and control will be ours within the week.”

  Ms. Levy brushed her hair back and approached her. “Honey, we have always had control and command. We just no longer need to pretend or work through idiots like our president. He . . . he, sadly, will likely not survive the week. I’d suggest delaying any other meetings with him for now. We can’t save everybody you know.”

  “I rarely meet with him in person, anyway,” she said. “The broadcast was a rare exception.”

  “Yes, of course . . . the protocols.”

  A man in a dark suit opened the door. “Ma’am, your ride is ready.”

  “Sorry, Madelyn, but I do have to run. Work to do and have to check in on my lovely family. Do be careful on your way back to the capital and meet me at Mount Weather next weekend. We will have much to discuss.” She handed the secretary a large sealed envelope before heading out the door. “You are going to need this. Please review it today.”

  Madelyn stood there absorbing it all. The power contained in this room was enormous. She had just been all but promised the presidency of the United States, and yet, she had never even been offered a seat in this room. Even if she were president, she would not have a seat at this table. She had no idea the true identity of the woman, but her power and influence were astonishing. Once again, she had been dismissed as just another lowly servant while the master left to attend more important matters. She tucked the envelope under her arm and proceeded back out the estate's rear door to catch her own ride still idling on the lawn.

  24

  The men watched as JD moved across the hay bales and under the shade of a large tree. He tugged on a long, leafy-green vine and began pulling something off and putting them in his mouth. He grinned—“muscadines” the sweet, wild grapes that grew all over the South. All three were soon downing the sweet, pulpy fruit and spitting seeds over the edge of their perch. “Man, these are good,” Gerald said.

  Steve nodded agreement. “Yep, good find, JD. This takes me back to my childhood. Every summer it was such a treat to go out and find wild plums, blackberries and muscadines. I never see them growing anymore.”

  Steve looked at Gerald. “You haven’t answered my question.”

  “Never heard a question—you made a statement.”

  Steve smiled and looked down shaking his head. “You know something, don’t you? Or have a pretty good theory at least of what is going on.”

  “I have . . . an opinion. Not sure I am ready to share as you would probably think I am just another conspiracy nut.”

  “Whatever you have is more than me. It obviously affects us all, so give us your thoughts.”

  Gerald nodded. “Okay, but believe me, I hope I’m wrong. Remember, I worked in government for years. I was basically an analyst, forensic accountant by trade.”

  JD asked the same question Steve wanted to, “What is a forensic accountant?”

  “I was the guy they called to ‘uncook’ the books. I found where money was hiding, misdirected or stolen, mostly by looking at the paper trail. I did stints at Treasury, IRS, GSA, but most of my years with the GAO. The Government Accounting Office. One thing about the government: no one spends a dime that accounting somewhere doesn’t know about. Now, it helps that I am paranoid, skeptical and have a bit of a devious mindset myself, but I was damn good at tracking down misappropriations. That made me very good at my job, and over the years, provided me with a catalog of unusual knowledge. When it comes to politics, following the money is always the key.”

  “Sounds boring,” JD said as he went back to picking the fat grapes.

  “Kinda agree,” said Steve.

  “Most of it was, but I like solving puzzles, and at some point, I realized I had a lot of pieces that didn’t seem to fit anywhere. Like places that had way more money to spend than they should have, which to an accountant is even worse than having a shortfall. It took a lot of years, but eventually, I came to the startling realization that the people that must actually run our country were not our government. Believe it or not, government agencies are also always conspiracy hotbeds. Some lifers are the most distrustful of big government. I found that I listened to these theories and some—a very few—dovetailed into what I had uncovered in my various accounting work assignments.

  “As a side project, I began to come up with some scenarios that might fit the clues. In some of the history checking, I researched the founding of the American banking system and the families behind it. You know, after the Revolutionary War, the government was flat broke, couldn’t even pay the army. Since then we have become the richest nation on Earth. What most people don’t know is that there was just a handful of men, six to be exact, who were responsible for that. They called themselves the Jekyll Island Group ‘cause that is where they met. You know Jekyll Island, just across the state from here. Anyway, from those meetings emerged the Federal Reserve Bank.”

  Steve nodded but was not sure where all this was going.

  “I know, I know . . . it’s a bit complicated. Bear with me. Think about this, though. A small group of individuals meeting in secret creates something so instrumental, so vital to our country. Something that is pseudo-official, government-ordained, yet none of these people had any real legal authority to do so.”

  “So what, Gerald? I imagine it just seemed like a good idea at the time. Its time had come. Nothing all that sinister to me.”

  “But Steve, the Fed is still privately owned, yet they can print money and regulate its value. They set the interest rates. You must see this is inherently wrong. Problematic at best and truly evil at its worst. I won’t bother getting wound up in a discussion about the Fed as that is not the real culprit. Just understand for this small group, money was never an issue. They owned the banks. What mattered to them was what it could buy. In Washington money buys power and loyalty.”

  Steve interrupted, “But this Jekyll Group are long dead. Surely whatever machinations they put in place are long gone.”

  “Well, Steve, that’s where it gets muddy. You have no doubt heard of the secret cabals that run our government: the Trilateral Commission, Bilderberg Group, Bohemian Grove and such. People seem obsessed with shadow governments. The truth I uncovered is that it isn’
t the government that has been commandeered; it is instead, a small group that runs our financial system. Six men or six families maybe, each representing the top layer of what may be truly ancient financial empires. As far as I know, they have no name, but I maintain they are the evolution of that original Jekyll Island Group. I suppose they may even precede that meeting—that one just happened to get some unwanted attention.

  “What’s so troubling is once I made the initial connections, I could see their hands in everything. Nothing that was ever outwardly illegal, nothing I would ever go to my bosses with, but I swear these people were the ones in charge. I heard rumor of lots of crazy ideas while I was in DC. Plans to collapse the dollar, ruin the housing market, get rid of the social welfare system, neutralize global warming, but the worst ever was how to depopulate the country. That one always had a bit too much of the ring of truth. Supposedly somebody got hold of some documents that told people what to do in various natural disasters to help the effects of the disaster spread across the country and to use it as an excuse to get rid of the undesirables. The masses of humanity that are simply a drain on the economy.”

  “Whoa . . . whoa, whoa! . . . Uh, uh. So, you believe the government is using the blackout as a cover to what? . . . Depopulate the country?”

  “Don’t give our government that much credit. It is a massively oversized, slow-to-react behemoth, but in this case, it’s probably just another tool being used by this group. But to answer your question, essentially, yes. You see, besides being huge, our government, particularly the politicians, are notoriously bad leaders. A person whose main job is being popular enough to get re-elected may not be the best person to control the world’s largest military and largest economy. Yet, knowing that, I realized most of our choices throughout history have been pretty good ones. I am not totally sure this group is evil; it seemed much of what they have done has benefited us as a nation. I do think you would have to be blind not to see our nation’s problems. Massive social welfare programs, broken healthcare system, crooked politicians, banking ineptitude, packed court and prison systems, add to that immigration and a long-simmering racial divide. Someone high-up has declared a ‘do-over.’ That is what I think.”