Mawsil’s eye’s grew large in terror.
“And just so you know? Margaret Malcolm wasn’t a whore.”
Chris pulled a flask of whiskey from his pocket and took a drink as he stared at the dying Mawsil. Mawsil tried to talk, but already his nervous system was shutting down and the only thing he could do is make a squeaking sound.
“Oh, by the way, I’m pretty sure there aren’t going to be seventy-two virgins to welcome you,” Chris said. “Because in about thirty seconds now, you’ll be in hell. Obey Ohmshidi, you son of a bitch.”
Mawsil’s eyes opened wider, the only part of his body he could still move, and they reflected his terror. Chris took another swallow of his whiskey as he watched the life go out of those eyes.
Just after dawn, Shurayh Amaar came out of his apartment building and started toward his car. He had left it parked on the street, clearly marked as an SPS vehicle, and not only SPS, a vehicle that belonged to the elite Janissary Corps. It would be the height of foolishness for someone to bother it.
And yet, this morning, someone clearly had.
Amaar gasped as he approached the car. Painted on the side of the car were the words: “Take Back America!” An American flag fluttered from the radio antenna.
“Who did this? Who did this?” Amaar shouted.
Chris, who had been squatting down just on the opposite side of the car, stood up.
“I did it.”
“Why you . . .” Amaar shouted in anger as he reached for his pistol.
“With a draw like that, you wouldn’t live a day in the Old West,” Chris said easily.
“We’ll see about that, you son of a bitch!” Amaar shouted, pulling his pistol and bringing it to bear.
Not until then did Chris raise his own weapon, a Glock 19, with a suppressor. When he fired, it sounded no louder than a trigger being pulled on an empty chamber. His bullet hit Amaar in the middle of his forehead, and he fell back, his arms flung out to either side, the pistol lying loose in his right hand.
Chris pulled the whiskey flask from his pocket, took a mouthful, then spit it out on Amaar’s body. Then he took a second drink, and turned to walk away.
Lower Alabama
Twenty-one days after they left St. Louis, Tom and Sheri Jack reached the Intracoastal Waterway in Southern Alabama. The bridge that led over the waterway to the island was down.
“Is there any other bridge across this water?” Sheri asked someone who was fishing.
“Nope.”
“Is there a way around it?”
“Nope. That’s why they call it an island.”
“Come on,” Tom said. “We’ll find a way across.”
“Have you got any money?” the fisherman asked.
“We have a little,” Tom said. “Why do you ask?”
“I’ve got a boat. I’ll take both of you across.”
It cost twenty Moqaddas in AIRE currency to persuade the boat owner to take them across. Once they reached the other side, they stopped at what used to be a McDonald’s. They could smell fish being cooked, and because they had last eaten yesterday morning when Tom killed a rabbit and cooked it in the woods, the aroma of fried fish made them both hungry. They parked their bikes and went inside.
A young black woman greeted them from behind the serving counter.
“I’m not sure how to pay for this,” Tom said. “I don’t know what you are using for money.”
“Do you have any money?”
“All I have are Moqaddas. I have a feeling that isn’t too welcome here.”
“We use it,” the woman said. “We don’t like it, but we use it.”
“Then we’ll have two orders of fish,” Tom said, smiling at the prospect.
When they took their food to the table, a man at the next table spoke to them.
“Just arrive on the island, did you?”
“How can you tell?”
The man chuckled. “I heard you ask what we use for money. My name is Heckemeyer. Tony Heckemeyer.”
“I’m Tom Jack, this is my wife, Sheri.”
“Where did you come from, Tom?”“St. Louis. But before the collapse of the military, I was in the Navy in Coronado. I must say, I was little surprised to hear that you are using AIRE money. I thought you folks were sort of off by yourselves down here.”
“We are, and for the time being we are using Moqaddas as a matter of exchange for expediency. Our island is pretty self-sufficient, but not entirely so. From time to time we have to go over onto the mainland to buy supplies, and whenever we do that, we have to use AIRE money.”
“How do you buy supplies without identity cards?”
“Some of us have ID cards,” Heckemeyer said. “It’s not anything we are proud of, it’s merely a matter of expediency.”
“I know what you mean. We have ID cards for the same reason. Tell me, what are people using to pay rent down here? Will Moqaddas work?”
“Ha! Rent? Nobody pays rent. We have twice as many places to live as we have people. All you have to do is find one that is empty, and move in.”
“What if the real owner shows up?” Tom asked.
“Easy enough. Just find another one. I’ll give you a hint, though. If you go to one of the high-rise condos, you’ll find a lot of empty apartments up on the top floors. There’s no electricity for the elevators, and nobody wants to climb up all those stairs.”
“Thanks.”
“What brings you to our island?”
“You aren’t an undercover SPS agent, are you?” Tom asked suspiciously.
Heckemeyer laughed. “Lord, no!” he said. “There’s not one SPS person on the entire island. In fact, we don’t have any police force at all, though as the population of the island increases, it is becoming more likely that we’re going to have to have some kind of police. Actually, I was a lawyer before the nation collapsed.”
“I’ll answer your question, but it might sound a little hokey,” Tom said.
“Try me.”
“We heard about this place on the news, and we came here to find freedom.”
Heckemeyer smiled. “There’s not a thing hokey about that.” He extended his hand. “Oh, and you might be interested in coming to a meeting we will be having tomorrow afternoon.”
“Who is we?”
“We is all of us. Everyone on the island. As I understand it, we are going to be discussing future plans for the island. If you are at the meeting tomorrow, you’ll be in on the beginning.”
“That sounds good. If I’m going to live here, I think that is a meeting we should attend. Where will it be?”
“It’ll be at Holy Spirit Episcopal Church, on Fort Morgan Road. And, I understand they will be furnishing a free meal to all who show up.”
Tom smiled. “Then I know damned well we will attend.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Pleasure Island
There was no central supply of electricity on the island, but there were many buildings that had their own supply of electricity, drawn from solar panels. Holy Spirit Episcopal Church was one such place, and it was for that reason that on this sunny afternoon Karin Dawes, Julie Norton, Ellen Varney, Becky Warner, Cille Laney, Gaye Cornett and a few other women were cooking a large meal in the kitchen of the church. Jake Lantz had called a meeting of all interested parties on the island, the stated purpose of which was to “chart the course from here forward for the residents and patriots of Pleasure Island.”
Jake was pleased to see that the turnout for the meeting was even larger than he had expected. Most had walked to the meeting, some had ridden bicycles, and others were driving cars, or pickup trucks, that worked by wood gasification.
Bob Varney, who was a rather large man, with silver hair and beard, had come to the meeting wearing a ball cap that said “Vietnam Veteran,” and a red T-shirt with the words “Alabama Crimson Tide” on the front. Earlier, there had been some good-natured ribbing between Bob and another citizen who was wearing an Auburn T-shirt. But then they becam
e melancholy as they realized that the storied college football teams of the past—Alabama, Auburn, LSU, Ohio State, Michigan, Notre Dame, Nebraska, Oklahoma, and USC—were no more, because the universities and their athletic programs no longer existed.
The group had managed to put together a very good dinner, consisting of barbequed goat, fried fish, coleslaw, and fried potatoes, every morsel of it drawn from resources available on the island. For most of those who came, it was their first gala gathering since the collapse of the republic, and despite the serious intent of the meeting, everyone was genuinely enjoying it. When all had been served, and while they were still eating, Jake stood up and tapped a spoon against his glass, causing it to ring out. Conversations at all the tables stopped as everyone turned their attention toward Jake.
“First, I would like to thank all of those people who made this absolutely delicious food available for our gathering, and, I want to thank the ladies for preparing it,” he said.
There was a round of applause.
“And now, if you will allow me, I would like to get right into the cause of our gathering.
“The America we were born into, the America that we all loved, and the America that many of us fought for, is no more.
“But we here, on this island, are prepared to make a new beginning. And I am sure that you know we are not alone. There are several other freedom groups around the country, and though we are in contact with them by radio, unfortunately we are so separated by distance that as yet we are not able to form one contiguous body. I do believe, however, that in time, we will be able to do just that. But in the meantime, we must all exist as separate, but cooperating, entities.
“We called this meeting because it is time that we organized ourselves, and to that end, I asked Bob Varney, our resident writer, to draw up for us a Declaration of Independence. He did, and I think it’s a damn good one. I’m pretty sure that all of you will think so as well. Bob, would you read it for us, please?”
Bob stood up and held out a sheet of paper.
“I’ve printed out several copies and they will be available to anyone who wants them. But I will read it to you,” Bob said. He cleared his throat, and began to read:
“Resolved by the people of Pleasure Island here assembled, that whenever any government becomes destructive of the inalienable rights of its citizens it is the right of the people to dissolve any connection with that government and establish a new government. It was those principles that emboldened our forefathers to declare American Independence from Great Britain in 1776, and it is those same principles which guide us today.
“Be it now declared and ordained that all powers over the residents of Pleasure Island heretofore delegated to the Government of the United States, and usurped by the American Islamic Republic of Enlightenment, and they are hereby irrevocably withdrawn from said Government, and are vested in the people of Pleasure Island. And it is the desire and purpose of the people of Pleasure Island to ally ourselves with other groups of patriots who at their core, as do we, continue allegiance to the United States of America as it was before the election of Mehdi Ohmshidi, and in cooperation with said group coordinate a plan of action by which we will take back America.
“Signed and agreed to by officers elected in convention on this day, July 4th, in the time since the collapse of the United States, one year and six months.”
“Excellent!” someone shouted, and the audience applauded.
“As I am sure you can guess, our choosing this day, the fourth of July, to declare our independence, wasn’t just a coincidence,” Jake said.
“What are we goin’ to call ourselves, Jake?” someone called up from the audience.
“We’ve been calling ourselves Firebase Freedom,” Jake said.
“That was all right when we were just getting started,” Bob said. “But a firebase is temporary. We need to move into something more solid. I think we should declare ourselves to be a state. We should write a constitution, we should establish military defense and law enforcement, we should elect a congress and a president, and we should take on a name that is fitting to our plans.”
“Do you have a suggestion for a name?”
“I think we should call ourselves the UFA,” Bob said.
“UFA?”
“United Free America.”
“I second!” someone shouted, and by unanimous vote, the fledgling nation of United Free America was born.
One of the people in the audience raised his hand and Bob called on him.
“My name is Tony Heckemeyer,” the speaker said. “It’s my opinion that we aren’t going to be all that successful as a state if we don’t have electricity and water.”
“I agree that is going to give us problems,” Bob said. “But without fuel, we can neither generate electricity nor pump water. And even with the few ID cards we have on the island, there’s no way we can get enough gasoline to make any difference.”
“We don’t have to worry about ID cards, or rationed gasoline. We have a nearly limitless supply of fuel.”
Heckemeyer’s comment got everyone’s attention.
“Oh? And just where is the limitless supply of fuel?”
“I’m a lawyer,” Heckemeyer said. “And for the past several years, or at least until Ohmshidi shut them down, I represented the Alabama Gulf Coast Platform Company. There are twenty-three drilling rigs within eyesight, just off our beach.”
“Yes,” Bob said. “I can see them from my house. I can also see that they are still well illuminated at night.”
“The drilling crews have all been taken off the platforms, but many of those who worked on the rigs are still here on the island.” Heckemeyer looked around the room for a few seconds before he continued. “In fact, I see Don Webb here right now. Don, why don’t you tell us a little about the rigs?”
“I was the drilling chief for AGCP 98-1,” Don said. “The wells didn’t run dry. We were ordered to shut down in mid cycle and evacuate the platform.”
“And you say there is still recoverable oil?” Jake asked.
“Not oil, better than oil. Oil has to be refined. This is natural gas, and it doesn’t have to be refined. All that has to be done to it is to process it, to get rid of water and some of the heavy particulates. And that’s a much easier thing to do. In fact, we can get it into a useable state right there on the platform, before we even pipe it ashore.”
“So what you are saying, Mr. Webb, is if we put you and your crew on the platform, that will take care of our energy problem?” Jake said.
“Well, yes sir, if you can actually get us on the platform. But that’s where the problem is. Unfortunately, it isn’t just a matter of going out there and getting on the platforms,” Webb said.
“Why not?”
“When we were evacuated we were replaced by security teams from the State Protective Service.”
Jake smiled. “No sweat. We’ll just ask them to leave.”
The next item on the agenda was to elect officers for the new country of United Free America. Jake’s name was the first one to be put up for president.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I thank you for this honor, I truly do,” Jake said. “But I am going to quote General Sherman, when he was asked to run for president. Sherman said, ‘If nominated I will not run, if elected, I will not serve.’ That, I’m sure you will agree, is the most definitive refusal ever offered with regard to running for president.
“And while being president of United Free America doesn’t rise to that level, I’m going to turn it down because I believe that if I remain independent of any specific office, I can do my job much more effectively. I would, however, like to nominate Bob Varney.
Bob’s nomination was seconded, and he was elected by unanimous consent. Karin Dawes was elected as vice -president, Julie Norton as Secretary of State, and Tony Heckemeyer as Attorney General. Jake Lantz was Secretary of Defense, and all of them signed the Declaration of Independence.
After that they began to di
scuss plans to take over one of the offshore drilling rigs.
A young dark-haired man came up then. “Mr. Lantz, I wonder if I could join your team.”
“Well you have, haven’t you?” Jake replied. “As far as I’m concerned, everyone who was here today is now a part of the team.”
“No, I mean specifically, as when you take over the drilling rig. That is going to require a strike team, and I’ve had some experience in that sort of thing.”
“What sort of experience?”
“My name is Tom Jack and I am . . . that is, I was a SEAL, a lieutenant commander in the Navy. I understand you were a major in the army.”
“Yes, I was.” Jake stuck out his hand. “It’s good to have you aboard, Tom. And you are absolutely welcome to be a part of our strike team.”
Tom took his hand, smiling broadly. “I’m glad to be with you. And this won’t be the first time I’ve worked with the army.”
“Where are you staying?”
“My wife, Sheri, and I have taken an apartment in a beach condo. It’s nice enough, but we have no electricity. We’re also on the fifth floor, with no elevator.”
“If you are going to be part of our assault team, it would be best if we all stayed together. Why don’t you and Sheri move out to the fort?” Jake invited. “We’ve got power, water, and a spare cabin.”
“Thanks!”
“Have you got a way out there?”
“We have bicycles.”
“Good. It’s about a twenty-three-mile ride.”
Tom chuckled. “We’ve just come 750 miles, what’s another twenty-three?”
“When can you come?”
“Is this afternoon too soon?”
“We’ll be looking for you.”
“You don’t have to ride out there. Throw your bikes in the back of my pickup truck, I’ll take you,” James Laney offered, having overheard the conversation.
“You’ve got gasoline?”
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