Liberty or Tyranny

by John Grit

  “I’ll get Brian and Atticus. You guys go to the vehicles.” Deni rushed ahead, pushing through the brush in the dark.

  Approaching the truck and sheriff’s cruiser, Nate threw his pack in the back of the truck and barked orders. “Everyone load up. Deni drive the truck. Atticus drive the cruiser. Tyrone, watch the prisoner. Keep in mind if he’s what we think he may be he’s dangerous as hell. Watch him closely. Don’t rely on the cuffs to render him harmless. He won’t be harmless until he’s dead.”

  Tyrone shoved the man headfirst into the back seat of the cruiser and sat on him. “Don’t worry. I got him.”

  “Start the engines and be ready to take off when I come back.” Nate ran down the Jeep trail toward the road. He heard footsteps behind him and turned to see Brian following close behind. He stopped. “Whoa! I meant for you to get into the truck with Deni. These guys know more about night fighting than both of us put together. Go on back to the truck.”

  Brian didn’t move. “What are you going to do?”

  “Just take a look down the road and see what they’re up to.”

  “In that case I might as well come with you.”

  “No. Go back like I told you.”

  “Shit.” Brian turned and ran back toward the truck.

  Nate slowed down when he got near the road and eased up to the edge of the brush where it ended and the asphalt started. Dropping to his knees while still hidden in the tall brush, he crawled close enough he could see down the road with his binoculars. They were out there, up on the hill with rifles. The dim moonlight wasn’t enough to allow him to see that far, but he knew they were up there. He back-crawled from the road ten feet and then ran for the others.

  He ran past the truck and stopped at Atticus’s driver-side window. “Leave your lights off until we’re way down the road. Don’t step on the brakes; it’ll light up your taillights. They’re up there waiting to get a shot, and they’ll probably see us with night vision devices when we leave, so we’re going to come out of the woods like a bat out of hell and take off down the road as fast as we can. Expect to take a bullet or two in the back of the car, so stay down as low as you can.”

  “You bet,” Atticus said.

  Nate ran to the truck and opened the passenger side door. “Brian, sit down on the floorboard. I know it’s tight, but squeeze yourself in down there and stay low.” He ran around to the driver side and opened the door. Speaking to Deni, he said, “I’ll drive. Scoot over and lay down in the seat with your feet in my lap. I want you as low as possible. If I get hit, I’ll slow down and turn into the woods on the left side of the road. You bail out and hit the woods, both of you.”

  Deni frowned in the dark. “Yeah right. Bullshit.” She did as he said, despite the fact it was obvious she wasn’t going to bail out and leave him if he were wounded.

  Nate waved his left hand out the window to signal Atticus. There was no need to floor it and throw dirt on the cruiser’s windshield. Nate took off fast but without spinning the rear tires. By the time he made it to the hard road, he was going as fast as he could and still navigate the sharp turn to the left. The rear of the truck skidded around and he had it straight in the road when he floored it, tires squealing and smoking. The cruiser was faster, and Atticus had no trouble staying right on his rear bumper. The rear of the cruiser took two bullets, one going through the rear window. In ten seconds, they were behind a six-foot swell. Fifteen seconds longer, and they disappeared around a curve.

  Nate didn’t let up on the gas until they came to a side road. He slowed and turned off to the right.

  “Now what?” Deni asked.

  “If they’re Army, they’ve already called in air support – if they have any available. We have to stay off of that road and get out of the area.”

  “Can I get up now?” Brian asked. “It’s cramped as hell here.”

  Deni maneuvered herself over by Nate and made room for Brian. “Go ahead. If we get shot at from the air, staying low won’t do you any good.”

  Nate drove a few miles farther and stopped. He opened his door. “I’ll go check on the others. One of them may have taken a bullet.”

  Atticus stuck his head out of the window of the cruiser. “Not a scratch here. You guys all right?”

  Nate bent down and saw the bullet hole in the back. “Yeah. We need to get to town a different way. I’m afraid they’ve called in air support.”

  Tyrone still sat on their prisoner. “Maybe we should hold out somewhere till daylight.”

  “Well, we’ll need a barn or something to hide these vehicles in. Do either of you know the area?”

  Tyrone spoke up. “I used to patrol this part of the county. There’s a little hamlet about six miles down the road. It’s got a junkyard. The guy that owned it is probably dead but I don’t know for sure. Anyway, he had a big metal building he used for a work shop. We might could break into that and park of our vehicles in there.”

  “Sounds like our best bet. You get in front and lead the way.” Nate ran back to the truck.

  “Where are we going?” Brian asked.

  Atticus sped by.

  “Junkyard.” Nate put the truck in gear and took off.

  Deni had a thought. “If they asked for air support, it would’ve been here already. Col. Donovan’s choppers are not that far away.”

  “I hear you,” Nate said. “Chances are Donovan knows nothing about any of this. These guys are covert. They may be taking their orders straight from the Pentagon and someone there might be taking his orders straight from the president. This is probably political bullshit. And I’m starting to think the so-called anarchists are also bullshit. Oh, the young punks are real enough, and they’re true believers – but someone has put anarchy nonsense in their heads.”

  Brian narrowed his eyes and looked at his father. “I don’t understand. What you’re saying is just as crazy as what we’ve been thinking was going on before now. People have died because of this.”

  Nate’s voice grew sharp and cold. “People die because of politics all the time, Brian. War is politics by another means. The number of people murdered in the last hundred years by their own government is higher than the number killed in warfare. And wars are started and waged by governments. That’s not to say I’m against government. Government is a necessary evil, as our Founding Fathers stated many times. But it must be kept small, weak, and inexpensive.”

  “I agree,” Deni said. “But a small, weak, inexpensive government is exactly what we have now.”

  “But is it really a representative republic?” Nate kept his eyes on the road. “It seems most of those in power in Washington were elected only by voters in the northeastern states, and only a small number of voters at that.”

  Deni tried to get comfortable in the seat, which wasn’t easy while wearing her heavy body armor and spare ammunition. “We’re not even certain those guys are Special Forces. But assuming they are, what’s the point of causing trouble around here and getting people killed?”

  “That’s what I’m hoping our prisoner will tell us.” Nate saw the little community ahead and slowed, putting a little more distance between them and the cruiser.

  They parked in a dirt and gravel driveway at the entrance to the junkyard, which was fenced off with old roofing tin, so people couldn’t see the junked and crumpled cars, as they drove by. The fence of rusty metal roofing certainly didn’t spare anyone’s eyes any unpleasant sights. Flattened cars were stacked 30 feet high in places and they could be seen over the ratty-looking fence.

  Someone yelled from out of the dark, “Who are you and what the hell do you want?”

  Tyrone yelled back, “We’re with the Sheriff’s Department or what’s left of it. We need to park our vehicles in your workshop until daylight. We’re not here to arrest anyone or cause any trouble.”

  “Tyrone, is that you?” The hard edge in the man’s voice disappeared. “It’s Sam Broker. I guess you didn’t think I survived the plague or the aftermath. But I’m
still here. Let me unlock the gate and I’ll let you in.”

  Chains rattled. A few seconds later, someone pushed the gate aside on its rollers. A skinny old man in dirty jeans and a brown T-shirt waved them on through. “Come on in. Don’t linger out there. Someone might take a shot at you. Lots of folks around here need the parts I have to keep their vehicles running. That is if they have any fuel for them. We’ve had trouble with people wanting to take what they want and not trade food or fuel for it.”

  They drove both vehicles into the junkyard and stopped in front of the closed door of the metal building. The man pulled the gate closed and padlocked the chain.

  Tyrone walked up to him with a big smile on his face and they shook hands. “Damn glad to see you’re still alive, Sam.”

  “Same here. You’re the best deputy this county ever had.” Sam glanced at the others. “What’s this all about?”

  “Too complicated to explain now. We need to get these vehicles in your building as soon as possible. Choppers might be looking for us.”

  Sam produced a ring of keys from his pocket and moved as fast as he could to the wide double doors of the shop. “Okay, but I want a better explanation than that as soon as you’re parked inside.”

  Inside the shop, Nate and Tyrone manhandled their prisoner, pulling him feet first out of the cruiser.

  Sam lit a kerosene lantern. “Who’s he?”

  “That’s just one of many things we’re going to find out.” Nate answered.

  Atticus deftly moved in to distract Sam. “I’m Atticus, Tyrone’s father. And before you ask, yes, he’s adopted.”

  Sam laughed and shook his hand. “I wasn’t going to ask.”

  Nate and Tyrone jerked their prisoner along until they came to a support post to tie him to.

  Nate gave their prisoner a hard stare. “We’re going to be here a while. That’ll give us plenty of time to get to know each other. The best thing for you is to answer my questions without forcing me to resort to persuasion. There are plenty of tools, vices, and welding torches around here I can use along those lines. But I would rather not. We’re both Americans. We’re both human beings. Problem is I’m pissed off. I’ve seen a lot of good people die recently. And I think maybe you had something to do with it.”

  The man swallowed. “I haven’t killed anyone lately. I’ve never killed anyone in this area. And the only time I have ever killed anyone, I was following orders.” He looked straight into Nate’s eyes. “Whose orders are you following?”

  Nate stared back, cold and hard. “Following orders? I don’t have that crutch to lean on. And I’m restricted only by my own conscience. Right now, I’m just pissed enough that I’m listening to another side of me and keeping my conscience boxed up somewhere dark and so far back inside of me I couldn’t hear it if it was screaming.”

  After introducing herself and Brian to Sam, Deni asked, “Is there anyone else around? If there is, you need to inform them we’re here. We don’t want any unfortunate mistakes that result in someone getting hurt.”

  “Yeah,” Sam answered. “I’ve got two families living with me and my wife. Eight people, including the children. We help each other survive. I’ll let them know you’re here. Just don’t go outside the building until I come back and tell you it’s okay.” He went out a standard-sized side door and closed it.

  Nate looked his prisoner up and down, noting that he didn’t have an ounce of fat on him. It wasn’t thinness from malnutrition; it was evidence of a high level of physical conditioning. Everything about the man, his physical appearance, his calm demeanor, his fresh haircut at a time when there wasn’t an open barbershop in the entire state, and his hunter’s eyes told Nate he was an operator. “What’s your name?”

  The man spoke without hesitation, “I would rather not say. Knowing my name will do you no good anyway.”

  “Okay. It’s not important. I’m not interested in hunting your family down. All I want to know is what you’re doing in this area.”

  “Why?” the man asked.

  Nate sighed, losing patience. “I was hoping to avoid crippling you, but if you answer another question with a question, you’ll regret it.”

  “I was delivering the boxes strapped to the back of that semi.”

  “And what was in those boxes?”

  “HE, small arms ammunition, a little food, and propaganda leaflets.”

  “Who were you going to deliver them to?”

  “Pawns.”

  Nate lowered his head slightly and stared at him. “Explain that.”

  “People naïve enough to be led by the nose and persuaded to cause trouble here locally. My job was to give them a cause and rile them up enough they would get violent. It’s not exactly a difficult thing to do. People have seen the inner circle of hell and are under severe mental stress. Probably three out of ten of those who survived the plague and its aftermath are basically nuts. Plant a seed of hate in their heads – this or that group caused all their problems – or the government did it – and they go out looking for someone to kill. It worked okay for Hitler.”

  Tyrone broke in. “Are you saying the government has ordered you to artificially drum up antigovernment movements in the area? What the hell for?”

  “More terrorist attacks,” the man answered. “It gives Washington an excuse to clamp down on people’s freedom. They’re just trying to protect you from the terrorists, don’t you know. And to do that, they need more control over your life. Our new president is power-hungry, and he needs an excuse to burn what’s left of the Constitution.” The man shook his head slightly. “And believe me, there’s very little of it left already. The guy used to be a corporate mogul – richer than six feet up a bull.” The man shrugged. “Now he’s president. Money’s no good anymore, so his new drug is power.”

  Nate glared at him. “Didn’t you swear the same oath I did?”

  “Hey, they feed us and provide my family with healthcare. I still have my wife and daughter. My son died in the plague. Survival: it’s the name of the game.”

  Brian looked around. “I wonder if there’s some gas or kerosene around here. Some of your pawns burned my friend alive the other day. I think it’s eye for an eye time.”

  The man pulled against his ropes. “I didn’t burn your friend.”

  “You just admitted you put them up to it.” Brian spit his words out, burning with rage.

  Nate broke in. “As long as he’s telling us what we need to know, we have no excuse to get barbaric.” He glared at the soldier. “But the minute he stops talking or starts telling us what we think are lies, we’ll light a welding torch and go to work.”

  Brian took a rusty gallon can off a shelf. “Paint thinner. It’ll burn slower than gas. Take longer to kill him. He’ll scream longer that way.”

  Deni’s head swiveled from Brian to Nate. She kept her concerns to herself, but it was obvious she was uncomfortable with the conversation.

  Nate noticed her reaction but said nothing. “Why the hell are you using semis? And why are the terrorists who call themselves anarchists using semis?”

  The soldier lifted both shoulders slightly. “The government’s short on resources the same as everyone else. There’s a big truck stop just north of the Florida-Georgia line and a few others between here and there. We just found some trucks that were still usable and filled the tanks. Then we made them available to the indigenous halfwits. We use them ourselves, mostly because military vehicles would be too obvious and they’re great for pushing stalled vehicles out of the road.”

  “We saw two deuce and a halfs go by earlier.”

  “I don’t know anything about that.”

  “So the Army is using this road too?” Nate asked. “I mean besides you operators.”

  The soldier shrugged again. “I guess so. They weren’t our trucks. We’ve been using the silly semis all along.”

  It was growing colder in the metal building, and Tyrone zipped up his leather jacket. “What’s our new president’
s name? I damn sure didn’t vote for him. What party is he in?”

  The soldier looked as if he didn’t want to talk about it. “Russell Capinos. There is no political party anymore. The old pre-plague government’s gone. What we have now has no connection to the old government. It’s as different as the pre-plague America was to today’s America.”

  “Russell Capinos,” Tyrone said. “Never heard of him.”

  “All I know is he was some kind of a corporate big shot and one of the wealthiest assholes in the world before the plague. Now he’s residing in the White House and pulling the strings. Almost everyone in Congress is one of his cronies, put there by him. Same goes for almost every justice on the Supreme Court.” The soldier gave everyone a grim look. “Capinos has this country by the short hairs. He issues executive orders every day. It’s a Simon says government now, and he’s Simon. So far, what’s left of the high brass in the Pentagon has followed his orders as if he’s completely legit. It looks like they’ll continue to do so, for the present time anyway. They still refuse to go against the prime directive of staying subservient to civilian government.”

  “Well, Washington and the Pentagon are both out of our hands.” Nate rubbed the stubble on his chin. “The question now is what to do with you. You’ve seen our faces. You’re a trained killer and part of a team of trained killers, all well equipped by our wonderful new government. It won’t take you long to learn who we are and almost everything about us, just by asking around. You admit you’re more than willing to follow orders from a corrupt government, even when those orders are unconstitutional, illegal, and immoral. I have a strong feeling if I let you go it’ll be the worst mistake of my life.”

  The soldier looked away but said nothing. Finally, he turned his head and looked at Nate. “I’m not going to beg you not to kill me. I do ask that you treat me like a soldier and execute me with a bullet to the head rather than kill me slow.” He looked at Brian. “I’m sorry about your friend. But I didn’t burn anyone, and I didn’t tell anyone to burn anyone.”