Fractured Nation

by Kurt Winans

  Aside from that event slated for the near future, life at the academy with its academic rigors and associated cadet responsibilities continued with similar intensity to those of his previous three years. The significant difference between the earlier time and the present term was that Jason had become more efficient with the management of his time, and his friend Kevin had played a major role in that education. As such, Jason no longer needed thirty hours, if he had wanted to get any sleep, to accomplish what would be required in twenty-four.

  Like nearly all of the cadets, Jason was in excellent physical condition. Aside from the daily regimented dose of calisthenics and exercise, he had been jogging through the wooded areas of the academy grounds since the dawn of the calendar year whenever regulations would allow for it. In the course of doing so, Jason continued to gather what could be additional valuable intelligence. Per the instruction of his grandfather and number twenty three, he had used the burn phone to report on the first day of every month. In possession of a new burn phone that Samuel had issued to him during summer break in Texas, the same strategy continued into the fall.

  Jason’s October first report had revealed his keen attention to detail with regard to the organizations questions that were put forth to him, and that he had witnessed no significant changes in the protocol or security during the events of September twelfth or the twenty sixth. Therefore in his estimation, no reason existed to believe that future events would be handled any differently than with the well-established patterns currently in place.

  Based on that intelligence report, and at the request of his lead recruiter, Samuel made another visit to the training facility in west Texas. However during the current trip, he brought a supply of goods with him from the mansion. As he was greeted by the three recruiters, Samuel said, “I’m glad that the men have become so proficient with their training, and also that you’re prepared for the next step.”

  The lead recruiter as usual was first to respond. He said, “Thanks number two. We were hoping to get to this point of refinement by November first so that the men could have a week of practice with the weapons, but now there’s no need to wait until then.”

  “It’s always good news to be ahead of schedule, but what exactly will they be doing?”

  “Well mostly they will be firing into the desert with the blank ammunition that you procured. That way they can all become accustomed to the recoil of the various weapons that some of them have never fired before.”

  “Alright, that sounds good. I remember that such recoil, especially from the South African model, is something we had discussed from the very beginning.”

  “Indeed, but now I have an additional thought on how the men can proceed with the extra practice time.”

  “Knowing you, that will undoubtedly involve another training exercise. So what do you have in mind?”

  Motioning toward the other two recruiters, he spoke for them, “We want to determine how that recoil might affect them while they are still in the air.”

  As Savanah was looking forward to the big costume party that she, her brother Blake, and their cousin Jennifer, would be attending with her parents and grandparents in a few hours, a double trailered eighteen wheeler rig prepared to depart from Tillman Freight in west Texarkana. Hidden from view within the trailers were three black suburban’s, several crates containing an arsenal of weapons and live ammunition that had been safely secured since Memorial Day, clothing, and provisions of food, water, and cash needed for the mission. Topping off the list of cargo were sixteen parachutes, but two of those would be discarded on the afternoon of November thirteenth. The driver’s mission was to deliver the rig to a warehouse location in Amarillo within the northwest panhandle region of Texas on the afternoon of November first, and then without unloading the cargo, wait for his female contact to arrive.

  An hour after his departure from Texarkana, Courtney got her first real taste of what she would forfeit when Samuel insisted that there would be no turning back. She had accepted the mission he designed specifically for her, and in so doing, would depart for the early stages of her task from the Tillman mansion while many in the family were at the costume party. As with other social gatherings held within the nearby town of Crockett throughout the year, the annual Halloween costume party was an event that Courtney had attended with the family numerous times. She had enjoyed conversing with the adults, and had watched the various children of those friends grow and develop from their toddler stage into a more independent form of young adulthood during the process. This year however, that transformation was hitting close to home again, and the experience was enlightening.

  While helping her fourteen year old boy crazy daughter Jennifer with certain aspects of her costume, Courtney suddenly wondered how different the young lady would be by the time she returned from the task in front of her, let alone in the months that followed. Although the subtle changes had been occurring for a few years, the process had recently accelerated. Jennifer’s body shape had changed dramatically of late, and at the rate she was filling in, she would probably need to have her tailored holiday party dress altered before it could be used for Thanksgiving. If there proved to be a shortage of material for such intent, a new dress could be easily purchased. There was minor comfort for Courtney in knowing that in either scenario, Ms. Holloway would tend to the need when it arose. Of course she also possessed substantial comfort in a much grander understanding. If something drastic such as her own death were to fall upon Courtney while on the mission, Jennifer would not be left alone. Like with most other things, Samuel, Victoria, and Ms. Holloway would make sure that she was well looked after even if Mason was somehow unable to step up.

  As she fought back the welling tears of having her youngest child already entering the next phase of early womanhood, Courtney looked Jennifer over with a smile, and said, “You look beautiful young lady, and I hope that you have a good time at the party.”

  Just then there was a knock on the door as the voice of Savanah asked, “Jennifer, may I please come in?”

  “Sure Savanah, come on in.”

  With that the door swung open and Savanah bounded in to say, “Oh hi Aunt Courtney. I’m sorry to interrupt, but I was hoping that Jennifer could help me with my hair ribbon if she has the time.”

  It was an instant reminder to Courtney that her problems with Mason and missing out on some of her daughter’s transitions paled in comparison, as Savanah had her own mountain of concern to overcome. The well-instilled manners and bright outlook of Savanah had also proved once again how valuable Ms. Holloway had been to the family with her time and tutelage. With Jennifer then tending to the hair ribbon of her young cousin, Courtney realized it was imperative that she successfully complete her mission for the good of the cause and the overall plan.

  Later that afternoon, shortly after the family entourage had left for the party, Courtney headed for the Houston County Airport that was located on the far side of Crockett. Driving past the site of the Halloween party in the process, she then boarded the family jet bound for the Amarillo International Airport.

  For many decades the first Tuesday of November in the even numbered calendar years had been Election Day throughout America and during this mid-term election cycle it was no different. President Harwell had been elected two years prior in 2024, and as such, still had that same timeframe remaining before votes would be cast for or against him in his re-election attempt. Samuel Tillman didn’t care too much about that particular timetable for now, but also felt that the man probably didn’t stand much of a chance at a second term as the chief executive. Of course Jordon Harwell’s future within that office could be largely determined by the outcome of the overall plan, and how it would be subsequently responded to.

  Of more immediate concern to Samuel were the various state elections that would have a federal impact on Congress, and also at the state legislature level. Many of those with regard to Texas were perceived to be already secured, as Samuel and others of in
fluence within the organization had seen to that. The campaigns of supposed high moral character that had gone on for several months throughout Texas for certain incumbents located in both Washington D.C. and in Austin had been run cleanly without slander toward their opponents. That had won some voters over as they longed for such non-childlike behavior within the political arena. In addition, a behind the scenes financial machine backing those same incumbents had made things rather difficult for any of the opposing unwanted candidates to overcome.

  Regardless of the outcomes of elections beyond the perimeter of Texas, Samuel knew that some within the body of both the United States Senate and House of Representatives would soon be on their way out. In the process, one of two things would occur that were basic to human nature. The outgoing personnel would either glide to the finish line of the winter holiday break while pouting that they had not gained another term, or they would be boisterous and overzealous in an attempt to leave a lasting mark on their time in the Capitol Complex with an eleventh hour legislative statement. Of course the latter of those had the potential to create a disturbance or inconvenience for those around them, but in either case, the mood would be short lived. Their eager to prove replacements would begin their shift in the spotlight after the New Year, and would be faced with a brand new set of challenges.

  While viewing the evening news for tallies and results, Samuel smiled with pleasure. Then an hour later, before sitting down to dinner with the family, the television media revealed what he had known all along. Every incumbent that mattered to Samuel and the overall plan had been named the winner of their particular office, so no new bumps in the road from the political scope would develop.

  Having flown to Amarillo via the family jet on Halloween evening, and then staying in a local hotel for the night, Courtney met with her contact at another of the Tillman Freight warehouse facilities on the afternoon of Sunday November first. As the man entrusted by Samuel for the delivery, he had driven the eighteen wheel tandem trailer over from Texarkana containing much of the supplies that would be needed for the Colorado portion of the attack scenario. Courtney’s part in the transaction was to match the manifest she had been given by Samuel with that of the contents within the truck. In short, she was to ensure that the shipment arrived safely and intact.

  Soon after completing a visual inspection to their combined satisfaction, Courtney drove the delivery man to the Amarillo airport for his one way flight back to Texarkana. Then as he prepared to leave the vehicle she said, “Thanks for bringing the shipment over safely friend, and I hope other aspects of your mission go just as smoothly.”

  With an outstretched hand, the man replied, “Thanks for the lift friend. For the good of the cause, may your mission, whatever it is, go just a smoothly.”

  Courtney shook the man’s hand before he closed the door and then she drove back to the warehouse. Staring at the once again securely locked trailers, she pulled the burn phone from her pocket and hit speed dial. The woman who answered said, “This is number twenty three, what do you have to report?”

  Having recently been given a numbered designation by Samuel that even his two remaining sons did not possess, Courtney replied, “This is number thirty seven. Please inform number two that the shipment is secure in Amarillo, and that I’m going dark to proceed with my mission. My next contact will be in two weeks if all goes well.”

  “I understand the message of secure shipment, and no contact for two weeks. Good luck number thirty seven.”

  With that Courtney climbed back into the generic vehicle she had rented that morning, and began her own road trip north. Following highway-287, she crossed over the thin panhandle section of Oklahoma and into the southeast corner of Colorado before stopping for the night in Lamar. Then she arrived in the greater Denver area on Monday afternoon by working her way further to the northwest, and checked into a small motel in a rough part of town that wasn’t known for asking any questions of its guests. Later that night she began shadowing the movements of a certain individual when he emerged from his office for the drive home, and placed a tracking device under the trunk area of his vehicle after he parked for the night at his apartment complex. The next few days of reconnaissance had revealed that her target, as had been originally noted by number forty three, was a creature of habit with definite patterns in his routine. One of those habits could be useful to her endgame, as every night on his way home from work, the man stopped for roughly forty-five minutes at what had to be his favorite watering hole.

  On the evening of Friday November sixth Courtney waited patiently in an unseen location for him to emerge from his place of business, and as with the three previous nights, noted when other employees either entered or exited the building. When her target exited at the usual ten o’clock sharp, she followed his car at a safe distance to that same watering hole. The bar was filled with people as she ventured inside for the first time, but no one seemed to care that she had unknowingly intruded upon a joint usually frequented only by locals. After getting a drink, and then locating and observing her targets habits for more than an hour, Courtney realized that his Friday night drinking had less constraints than during the previous three nights. Understanding there was a need to do so before her target became too intoxicated, Courtney made certain that he had spotted her when she walked past with a smile.

  In the pre-dawn hours of Monday November ninth, four large vehicle carrying trailer rigs rolled onto interstate-30 to begin their journey northeastward from Texarkana Texas. Their combined cargo, consisting of various makes and models of fourteen automobiles, six large vans, and six black suburban’s occupied most of the available double deck transport area of the convoy. The suburban’s with dark tinted windows, as the only vehicles less than two years old, had been outfitted with special fortifications for use by the men who would eventually occupy them. Additionally, each of five vans that contained no rear compartment seating had been equipped with a less cumbersome array of necessary gear. The last of the six vans would serve a different purpose, and as such, had maintained its normal array of bench seating behind the driver’s seat. If all went according to the plan, then each of the four large trucks would deliver their payload on Wednesday the eleventh.

  Last minute preparation before the journey began included the collection of all cell phones from any of the drivers except for the lone burn phone that the lead driver possessed. He had already driven a rig to Amarillo just over a week prior, and had used that burn phone to signal number twenty three that he had returned safely as planned via a one way flight. Each of the men had also been reminded that only limited communication between the four trucks would transpire throughout the entirety of the mission. Such rare communication would be necessary only if one truck from the small convoy had been out of visual formation for a prolonged period of time, and then only via the use of coded messages transmitted on CB radios. That type of plan was nothing new for truckers, as before the advent of cell phones, CB radios had been employed for decades as the primary mode of communication for information on traffic accidents, construction zones, or the presence of law enforcement. What made them attractive in this instance was that the CB radios provided a way to communicate under cover without a satellite traceable cell phone footprint. Each driving pair had also been pre-instructed on the sequence of which CB channels would be used for any contact within the various states they would pass through along the way, and that transition from channel to channel would coincide with the crossing of the appropriate state lines.

  Once attaining a comfortable cruising speed, the lead driver glanced in his left side mirror to confirm that the other three had fallen into formation. He knew, and was well experienced at having driven many of them before, that a vast network of interstate highways at their disposal could provide alternative routes if necessary. Fortunately the weather forecast of the next seven days in the eastern half of the country implied that there would be only minor storm activity, so each crew of two drivers believed that
the primary route could be adhered to.

  If that favorable forecast proved to be correct, then the small convoy intended to pick up interstate-40 on the outskirts of Little Rock Arkansas and follow it eastward until the genesis of interstate-81 well beyond Knoxville Tennessee. From there they would take a more northeasterly course through the Shenandoah Valley within the western portions of Virginia. Finally they would pass through a narrow fragment of both West Virginia and Maryland before closing in on their intended drop off location. By employing tandem driving teams in each truck, it was also ensured that the long distance haul could be made without stopping for any purpose other than fuel, food, or restrooms. Additionally, the empty rigs could immediately begin the return journey along the same route only moments after unloading their cargo.

  With a newly painted body of camouflage designed specifically for the upcoming mission, the MIL MI-8 HIP-C helicopter from the West Texas Skydiving School had completed the first leg of its northerly journey. Like the small convoy moving northeast from Texarkana, those involved with the western attack site in Colorado had initiated their journey the previous day. The relocation process began when the five women still at the training facility were transported to Amarillo via a twin engine propeller plane. Since the arrival of the helicopter in August to handle all of the training jumps, the twin engine aircraft and her sister ship, along with the two pilots, had served little purpose other than to taxi Mason and others to and from either Fort Stockton or El Paso. Now in Amarillo, the plane would remain in a state of readiness until that same function would be needed again.