“Stacy is going to send out orders under Sterling’s name to properly ID all liberated slaves.”
“Excellent. Thank you, Howard.”
“We had a deal, Richard—you command my army, I help you find your daughter.”
“Would you be opposed to Max leading the invasion force? If I find out my daughter is in Florida, I’ll be leaving immediately.”
“Max has my full confidence. I’m also certain your senior officers will be able to carry out their duties in an efficient and timely manner.”
“What are you going to do about the cruise ship in Seattle? You think you can convince those people to live somewhere else?”
“I have no idea what will happen. I’ve never been the sociable type, and I hate public speaking with a passion. I’ll probably just get pissed and start yelling.”
“I’m sure Max won’t let that happen.”
CHAPTER NINE
Regional Governor Roberto Jimenez awoke in his Malibu home and pressed the button to summon his nurse. Roberto’s decades-long battle with multiple sclerosis had cost him the use of his legs. If not for Andrew, his faithful caregiver, the governor would be completely bedridden. As much as he loathed his emasculating dependence, Roberto knew he no longer had the physical strength needed to tend to his own basic personal needs.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Hurry up. I need to piss like a racehorse.”
“I keep telling you, Mr. Jimenez, there’s nothing wrong with using the bedpan.” Andrew did his best to sound like a concerned caretaker so as not to embarrass Roberto.
“And I keep telling you, I’m not pissing in a fucking jug!”
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Remember, you promised to watch your temper. We need to keep your blood pressure down.”
“Whatever. Just get me to the bathroom.”
Andrew lifted Roberto out of bed and placed him in his wheelchair. Roberto maneuvered himself into the bathroom and shut the door.
“Do you need any help, sir?”
“No, I’m fine. Computer, report.”
“In the wake of the Golden Gate Bridge attack, widespread demonstrations have sprung up in San Francisco, Anaheim, Los Angeles, San Diego, and Sacramento.”
“Is that so? Show them to me.”
Five separate windows appeared on the bathroom mirror, each broadcasting similar reports of somewhat peaceful demonstrations threatening to erupt into violence at a moment’s notice. Picket signs delivered tasteless racist slogans as groups of malcontents billowed in the litter-filled streets.
Roberto found the cries for retribution amusing. Even without watching the videos, he knew the demonstrations weren’t aimed at him or the UAE. The citizens of his region knew better than to speak out against the UAE since to do so resulted in the death penalty. Angry citizens harkening back to the days of the democratic United States thought it was all a bluff, a fear tactic meant to control the populace. At first, protestors were arrested and imprisoned, with public execution at a later, more convenient, time. Roberto thought this measure would be enough but was shocked when even more brazen fools protested the executions and demanded governmental reform. Without haste, he ordered in the troops and gunned down the recalcitrant protestors in the street, leaving their bloody, bullet-ridden bodies behind.
“Computer, what’s on the schedule?”
“Sir, President Sterling is requesting to speak with you.”
Roberto yelled for Andrew to get him from the bathroom to his desk.
“Establish the connection.”
“Good morning, Roberto, is this a bad time?” Simon asked once the link was completed.
“Not at all, Mr. President. What can I do for you?”
“I’m on my way to your home. I should be there in less than an hour.”
“A pleasant surprise, Mr. President. If you’d have given me more notice, I could have prepared a reception in your honor.”
“That won’t be necessary; my visit is unscheduled and unannounced for a reason. I have something to discuss with you that requires the utmost secrecy.”
“I’m honored, Mr. President. This can’t wait till the funeral?”
“No, Roberto, it cannot. Tell no one about my arrival and make no preparations.”
“I look forward to it, Mr. President.”
***
President Simon Sterling emerged from his helicopter and followed the flagstone path to Regional Governor Jimenez’s guest home. Roberto waited alone in the dining room, his nervous expectation nearly getting the best of him.
“Mr. President, I took the liberty of having coffee and pastries set out for you. Help yourself. I know you said no preparations, but I don’t have it in me to be a less than gracious host.”
“Thank you, Roberto. I just didn’t want to attract attention to my visit.”
“I must say I’m rather surprised by this, Mr. President. It’s not like you to sneak around.”
“You are indeed correct. Once I say what I have to say, you’ll understand the need for discretion.”
“I’m all ears, Mr. President.”
“To put it frankly, Roberto, the UAE is on a path to destruction. Well, to be more accurate, The Pulse Zone is on a path to destruction.”
“How so?”
“We’ve made significant strides in restoring the infrastructure, but the problem of maintaining law and order remains. Much of the region is being divided up into small pockets controlled by either crime lords or powerful individuals who can offer a community the protection for which all are so desperately longing. At first I put a stop to it but soon saw the benefit of these communities.”
“Meaning they were simply one less thing for you to worry about, correct?”
“Yes. As long as they were minding their own business and not causing trouble, I left them alone. All of our efforts have been focused on getting the power back on and rebuilding the interstates, but The Silent Warriors stymie our progress at every turn. Butler will clear out a stretch of road and rebuild a bridge, and those cursed terrorists will come in behind him and undo everything. It’s making things impossible for us.”
“Mr. President, what can I do to help?”
“I’m here to discuss a matter that has been troubling me for months. Regional Governor Butler has become a problem.”
“Really? In what way?”
“I’m growing concerned that his loyalties no longer lie with the UAE. He’s becoming increasingly insolent and enjoys testing the limits of my patience. I put him in charge of the reconstruction efforts in The Pulse Zone because I thought he could get the job done.”
“You’re not satisfied with his progress?”
“Quite the contrary. He’s doing an exemplary job in spite of all the frustrating setbacks. What troubles me is his affinity for the spotlight. He’s arrogant and will do anything to gain popularity. The accusations you made recently about him stockpiling resources and manpower did not fall on deaf ears. I looked into the matter and discovered that you were correct.”
“To what end?”
“Isn’t it obvious? He’s planning to seize power and get rid of me.”
Roberto laughed. “By himself? He can’t possibly be that deluded. Just because he’s making strides in getting The Pulse Zone up and running doesn’t mean he’s in any position to start a civil war. That sort of egotistic idiocy is the last thing we need right now. Once Iran is finished with Europe, they’re coming for us. Butler has to know that.”
“I think he’s too blinded by power to even care. He must think he can get rid of me, slip quietly into the driver’s seat and just take the wheel without any bloodshed.”
“What do you want me to do, Mr. President?”
“If I know Jackson like I think I do, he’s going to reach out to some of the other regional governors for support.”
“You know the two of us don’t exactly get along. I’d be at the bottom of his list.”
“That’s why I came to you, Roberto.
Of all the regional governors, you’re the only one in whom I have implicit trust. You were instrumental in helping me overthrow Malcolm Powers, and it’s a fortunate coincidence that you and Jackson despise each other.”
“That’s putting it lightly.”
“I need you to be mindful of the rest of the group. Use the attack on the Golden Gate Bridge as your cover. Tell them I’m furious with you, furious enough to force you into retirement. A few juicy rumors should get their tongues wagging.”
“I wish you’d force me into retirement; I could use a break. What are you planning to do about Butler?”
“Nothing for the time being. I’m curious to know if he can recruit anyone to his cause.”
“And if he does?”
“I think you already know the answer to that.”
CHAPTER TEN
Benjamin Black had never felt such fervent hatred toward anything or anyone in his life. Yes, he faced the customary loathing for mundane annoyances— he hated getting stuck in traffic, he detested his shitty bosses, and he despised the Dallas Cowboys with a vengeance – but nothing came close to the unmitigated, raw hatred Benjamin harbored for the Unified American Empire.
Like so many Americans, Ben felt he’d been deceived by President Simon Sterling. In the wake of the collapse, Sterling seemed like the perfect answer to the country’s desperate prayers, both a revolutionary and a true patriot. The guy was smart and ready to cut through a mountain of bullshit to do things right and get them done fast. The fact that Sterling’s initial move was to bring the country’s troops home, leaving the rest of the world to fend for itself, made him the most beloved president of all time. And just when Ben thought the man couldn’t possibly top that, President Sterling made it clear to all that his style of dogged isolationism not only referred to military intervention, but to financial relief as well. Even while the country was mired in The Second Great Depression, the bleeding-heart liberals still wanted to send billions and billions of dollars to feed the starving children of the world. President Sterling proclaimed that Americans had their own starving children to feed, thank you very much. No more handouts, no more sticking our noses into foreign matters where they didn’t belong in the first place. America had enough problems to deal with; the rest of the world was on its own. Benjamin Black believed in Simon Sterling. If anyone could pull the country out of The Second Great Depression and rebuild The Pulse Zone, he could do it.
At first, Sterling’s measures seemed strict and imposing, but Ben and the other terrified citizens sat in quiet acquiescence. Someone needed to bring the hammer down on the degenerate thugs who were in the way of progress. Curfews weren’t really a bad thing either. Ben was smart enough to know that darkness is the coziest blanket for evil. Ben became a bit wary when more and more of the country became compartmentalized. President Sterling declared that crossing state lines required a passport. If you were caught in Tennessee with a Florida driver’s license and no passport, you had some serious explaining to do. Ben questioned the restriction, but drastic situations called for drastic measures…right?
Like most people, Ben harbored an underlying hatred and mistrust of anyone with olive-colored skin. He kept these feelings buried beneath a façade of indifference and certainly never acted on them. A decade of progressively deadlier attacks by The Silent Warriors had fostered his racism and kept the perpetual internal flame burning just beneath his skin. During The Thanksgiving Day Massacre, Ben was at his parents’ house watching the Cowboys game with his siblings and their families. Like every year, his dad kept stalling the start of the meal so they could sit in front of the TV just a little longer. With less than two minutes to go in the first quarter, breaking news of the sniper attacks interrupted the game and had Ben screaming at the TV. Once Ben and his family truly grasped the severity of what they were witnessing, Thanksgiving would never be the same. When the Super Bowl Massacre of 2023 brought about the demise of the National Football League, Ben joined millions of enraged fans and didn’t object in the slightest when the Middle Eastern internment camps were erected.
Benjamin’s aversion for the UAE deepened as rumors of mass executions ran rampant. The massacre of thousands of internees, including innocent women and children, generated an alarming, caustic side effect—the eradication of free speech. Sterling was far too cunning to provoke the Empire while they were busy conquering Europe. Censorship reared its menacing head, and the ugly truth withered, its silent death unreported. Once Sterling had an iron grip on the media, he could unleash his madness free from accountability.
New flocks of refugees arrived at Disney World each day, offering passionate firsthand accounts of Sterling’s lunacy. Everyone knew the president’s first measure of “social reform” would be to clean up the Obama Camps. Benjamin Black had been earning his keep since he was sixteen years old and had made an honest living ever since, so he viewed the Obama Camps with disgust. They were filled with lazy bums who expected hard working people to take care of them. Ben hoped President Sterling would kick these indolent losers square in the ass and force them to find employment, however menial. Sterling had a simple, quite efficient solution: The Unified National Guard marched in with flamethrowers and burned the camps to the ground, no eviction notice or other advance warning provided.
Benjamin faced a serious dilemma. On the one hand, he was glad the problem got cleaned up, but was appalled by the method Sterling used. He didn’t know how, but he was going to stop Simon Sterling and help bring down the UAE. He knew he couldn’t form a militia and go on the offensive; he would be slaughtered before he could make a dent. Sterling was exactly the type of dictator the former United States of America would have toppled without a backward glance, the irony of which provided Ben a momentary bright spot in an otherwise terrifying reality.
Someone had to stop the UAE, and Ben was determined to help make that happen.
Ben was proud of the double life he lived. While he plotted and schemed against the UAE in the shadows, on the surface he was a model citizen, loyal and supportive. He treated UAE officers like celebrities when they came to Disney World and made sure they were afforded every luxury; the UAE officers idolized him in return. Over time, Ben was able to manipulate them into believing he was their ally, and many soon sought his counsel on a variety of topics. While they poured out their souls to him, Ben used the vital intelligence to undermine their efforts.
Captain Nedry Brown was by far the easiest mark. Ben found the man to be an incompetent officer. He was ignorant and had low self-esteem—both characteristics unbecoming in a leader. Thus, the soldiers under Brown’s command had no respect for him. Ben cashed in on the man’s insecurity and did everything possible to boost his fragile ego. When the good captain finally began to display a measure of confidence, Ben would snap him like a twig, even a minor slight enough to break him. The vicious cycle had the poor officer’s mind coiled like a spring around Ben’s little finger. Captain Brown craved Benjamin’s approval like a son would a father’s. He wasn’t alone, sadly, as many others found themselves in the same needy predicament. Ben prided himself on his skills at psychological manipulation and could have instructed a master class on Machiavelli with little or no preparation.
With his top lieutenant, Jessica Bradley, away investigating the mysteries in southern Florida, Ben had a bit of a problem on his hands. He needed to get inside Captain Brown’s head to find out what was going on, but he needed Jessica to do it. Nedry Brown was quite unattractive and turned into a bumbling fool around women. Jessica was far too proud to whore herself out for some cause, no matter how just and honorable it may be, but when it came to Captain Brown, all Jessica had to do was show him a little kindness and respect. Nedry nearly hyperventilated at her beautiful smile, and she would pretend not to notice, giving the man the misguided impression that he was a charming storyteller. This simple distraction allowed Ben to play Nedry like a fiddle. With Jessica gone, the task would prove more difficult.
Ben and Nedry
were sitting in the captain’s private officer’s suite at the Wilderness Lodge. Ben knew Nedry craved brandy and cigars. Ben had crates of the stuff on hand but always gave Brown the impression that he went to great lengths to procure this special stash just for him. Nedry smiled at the first-class treatment as he put the cigar in his mouth and allowed Ben to light it.
“Ned?”
“Ben, please.”
Ben sat down across from Captain Brown and lit his own cigar. After enjoying a slow, smooth sip of brandy, he began again. “Ned?”
“Ben, c’mon. I already told you what you need to know. You and yours are safe. Relax! You have nothing to worry about.”
“Ned, you know me better than that! Something this big? You had to know I’d be curious about it. What’s going on?”
“You give me too much credit, Ben. I really don’t know much more than I told you earlier.”
“So, you do know more! You gonna make me beg?”
“Don’t be silly. You know I can’t just spill my guts to you. All I know is something big is happening in Miami.”
“When?”
“Tuesday or Wednesday.”
“What are the rumors going around?”
“A secret meeting of some kind. I’ve heard Beck is surrendering. On the flip side, I also heard Sterling is surrendering to Iran. All of it’s probably bullshit, but my gut tells me it has something to do with the sudden interest in the slave trade. The timing is just, I don’t know...”
“The slaver thing is really that big of a deal? I thought it was just some PR stunt to make the UAE look more civilized.”
“I don’t know, Ben, I can’t help but think the two are connected somehow. They’re making a huge deal about the liberated slaves you got here. Seemed to take an interest in some orphan girl, thought maybe they found her parents.”
Ben hated when the UAE took an interest in anything to do with his operation. He’d rather they stay the hell out of his business. Ben knew neither Sterling nor anyone else in the UAE gave two shits about helping an orphan girl. Burning down Obama Camps and executing Middle Easterners was proof positive that Sterling’s only concern was for furthering his own misguided agenda.
New America 02 - Resistance Page 8
