The adviser stepped forward so that she was glaring directly up into General Thompson’s face.
“General, I think it’s time you leave so that I can discuss with the president your pending resignation.”
The general ignored the adviser, instead turning his head to look back at the vice president to make certain the man had not lost his courage. Vice President Blunt nodded once and then his eyes fell downward to the Oval Office floor.
The general looked over the head of the adviser and stared directly into the confused, apprehensive eyes of the President.
“Mr. President, I hereby strip you of all acting executive authority effective immediately per Section Four of the 25th Amendment of the U.S. Constitution.”
The President’s eyes widened as his mouth fell open. He seemed momentarily unable to comprehend the words just spoken to him.
“Get the hell out of this office, NOW!”
The adviser’s words were hissed between tightly clenched teeth. Her right hand reached up to push back against the general’s uniformed chest. When he didn’t move, the open palm of that same hand then struck him firmly across the military officer’s left cheek. General Thompson neither moved nor flinched, though the tone of his words carried a less than subtle warning to the adviser.
“Ma’am, I strongly suggest you not do that again.”
The Vice President stepped in between the general and the adviser.
“Mr. President, I’m sorry, but the general is right. We need to get a handle on this mess and to do that we feel it’s best to make it a full military operation from here on out.”
The President attempted to say something but then abruptly closed his mouth and moved awkwardly toward the chair behind his desk. He slowly lowered himself into the chair and then remained unmoving and silent with his hands folded tightly together in front of him.
“You don’t have the authority to do this! He’s the damn President! Now get out of here before I have you both arrested! Maggie! Maggie, get in here!”
General Thompson heard the Oval Office door open behind him but already knew it wasn’t Maggie who entered. He enjoyed watching the adviser’s confusion worsen as she too realized events had already escalated far beyond even her previously considerable powers.
Two armed Marines entered the Oval Office and took positions just inside the door, awaiting further orders from the general.
“The staff has already been escorted from the White House. Mr. President, I have in my possession copies of signed declarations indicating your inability to perform your duties. These declarations include the signatures of most of your cabinet and leading members of Congress. I also have written approval from the FBI, Homeland Security, and Secret Service directors as well as the other members of the Joint Chiefs of Staff for the suspension of civil authority in America. Vice President Blunt is here as witness to those documents. As of now, I am in charge of the operation to restore order within the United States. You and your family will be confined to the White House private residence where you will remain until further notice. Martial Law is now in effect and will remain so until such time as order is restored.”
General Thompson then turned to the two armed soldiers.
“Please escort the President upstairs to the private residence.”
The President went without complaint, his mouth still hanging half open and his eyes moist with quickly formed tears.
“Well I’m not going anywhere.”
The general turned to again look down at the adviser. Her mouth curled sharply upward into a defiant sneer as her eyes dared the general to try and make her leave the Oval Office.
“Mr. Vice President, I need you to return to your residence at the Naval Observatory. I ask that you and your family remain there for your own safety. I also wish to thank you for your cooperation here today. It is greatly appreciated. Oh, and please take her with you on your way out. Feel free to drop her off on the side of the road if you like.”
Seconds later found General Thompson alone inside of the Oval Office once again staring out the large floor to ceiling windows at the dark, rolling clouds gathering overhead. He issued a faint smile as he watched the imposing form of a Sea King military chopper preparing to land on the White House lawn. The general had no intention of remaining in the White House to carry out his duties as military leader of the country during its time of enforced Martial Law. He prayed that time would be no more than a matter of weeks, or perhaps months, while silently fearing the situation might in fact drag on for far longer than that.
The chopper would transport him to the wooded retreat of Camp David some seventy miles from the White House. The general knew he would feel far more at home there in surroundings that reminded him of his childhood growing up on a sprawling, multi-acres farm in Harlan County, Kentucky. The isolated and militarily secure Camp David would be the operational epicenter of what was to commence following the President’s recent removal from power.
Dear God let me be up to the task.
General Reg Thompson had little certainty regarding what was to come, though he instinctively knew that in the short term the situation throughout the country was likely to get worse for a great many people.
Much worse…
-------------------------
EPISODE NINE:
…Chief Dolan suffered no remorse for the killing of Detective Raney. Mark had made his choice and now he must suffer the consequences. All that mattered to the chief at that moment was finding his way to Mile Post 18 where his family waited. From there they could escape together from whatever hell had visited their longtime hometown in southern Illinois.
Dolan’s first shot missed wide right. Raney flinched, surprised and then fearful of how quickly the chief drew down on him. The detective’s smirk was gone, replaced by a face dominated by eyes wide with the sudden realization he might very well die – and soon.
A second shot ripped a trench over the top of Detective Raney’s left shoulder, causing the younger man to cry out in pain as he fell backwards onto the paved street. The chief saw the three FBI agents draw their weapons as well while the female news reporter scrambled to hide behind the white media van.
The fed playing the role of cameraman returned fire first. Two bullets hissed just over the chief’s head. Dolan quickly aimed at the cameraman and fired once, hitting the agent in the middle of the chest.
Two down, two to go. Agent Wong and Agent Timmins…
At fifty-seven years of age, it was no easy task for Tom Dolan to jump and then roll himself to the other side of his police cruiser. He felt his right shoulder cry out at the maneuver and knew if he survived this altercation, he’d be feeling it for several days after.
Three bullets hit one of the front car fenders where the chief had mere seconds earlier stood. Unhappy shoulder or not, the jump and roll had just saved Chief Dolan’s life.
Dolan peeked out from the other side of the cruiser, took steady aim at Agent Timmins who was foolishly standing upright and looking confused by the small city chief’s willingness to fight back, and fired two rounds.
The first shot missed left.
The second bullet entered the front of the FBI agent’s throat and exited out the back of his lower skull, sending out a spray of blood and bone a half moment before Timmins’ body collapsed onto the street.
Where the hell is Agent Wong?
The fed had somehow managed to disappear during the initial moments of the gunfight. Chief Dolan glanced to his left and then his right but saw no sign of the last agent.
Four bodies now lay in the street – the two young black men whose bodies had been delivered there earlier, Detective Raney who appeared to still be alive and the two feds Tom Dolan was certain he had just killed.
“You shot me you son-of-a-bitch!”
Raney’s voice was a high-pitched warble.
Dolan looked underneath his police cruise to make certain Agent Wong wasn’t sneaking up on him before calling back to
Detective Raney.
“What the hell did you get yourself into, Detective? Why did you dump the bodies of those black boys in the street?”
Raney didn’t even bother trying to deny he had done so.
“This is bigger than you, Chief. It’s bigger than all of us. It’s all one big ass reset button and there’s not a damn thing to be done about it. You’re either with them, or you’re not.”
Reset button?
Dolan slowly moved himself up from his crouched position to once again try and locate Agent Wong.
“What are you talking about, Raney? What reset button?”
Raney grimaced as he sat up with his right hand pressing down on the wound that ran across his left shoulder.
“It’s all changing, Chief, the whole damn system. They came to me a few months ago. Asked if I would be interested in being in charge of this area. Apparently they’re making similar offers to other law enforcement personnel all across the country. Ones they think would be agreeable to what’s happening now.”
Chief Dolan thought he heard movement to his left but saw nothing but the parked news van.
“So it’s some kind of federal take-over, is that it? And you were willing to see innocent people dead so you could get some damn promotion?”
Whatever response Raney intended to share, it never arrived. His voice was forever silenced by a bullet to the right side of his head. The detective’s body fell over and remained there unmoving as a dark pool of blood gathered underneath him.
Looks like I’m not the only good shot on this fine morning.
Suddenly the news van’s engine roared to life.
Oh, shit…
The chief scrambled to his right in an attempt to escape the van’s tire-squealing assault. He could see the small-framed outline of Agent Wong behind the wheel.
Dolan abruptly turned and aimed his weapon into the van’s windshield. The Marion, Illinois Chief of Police fired two shots while simultaneously issuing a silent prayer that God allow him to see his family once again.
And then Tom Dolan’s world went dark.
Can’t breath!
Chief Dolan’s eyes flew open to reveal slow-moving clouds passing overhead. He was on his back, the pain in his shoulder having been replaced by even greater pain throughout his entire body.
Get up, dammit!
Though his mind gave the order, his body refused as his lungs cried out for oxygen.
Finally Dolan’s mouth opened wide and a great rush of air filled him. He sat up, realizing the van had struck the police cruiser which in turn had then smashed into him and sent his body flying backwards several feet through the air. He looked down to see his right hand still holding his revolver.
The police chief gritted his teeth and willed himself to stand, though his legs trembled from the effort and his vision blurred as a wave of nausea momentarily washed over him. The sickness passed quickly though, and his eyes focused enough to reveal the body of Agent Wong slumped over the news van’s steering wheel, half his face obliterated by two bullet wounds from the chief’s gun.
The female news reporter fell out from the passenger side of the van, her eyes temporarily blinded by droplets of blood falling from a deep gash on her forehead. She pushed herself onto her knees and then lifted her head to glare up at Dolan who stood looming over her with his weapon pointed down at her. The woman’s medium length dark hair was a mess of sweat and dirt. She wiped the blood from her eyes with a right hand and then smirked.
“This changes nothing.”
Dolan knew dispatch had likely received several phone calls regarding the gunfire and that one or more of his deputies would soon be making their way to the scene. He intended to be long gone before they arrived. As much as he hated considering the possibility, he knew that if Detective Raney had sold himself out to whatever forces were responsible for the mayhem sweeping the nation, there might be others within his own department who had already done the same.
“Young lady, at this point I’d just like to know one thing from you.”
The reporter bared her bloody teeth, momentarily appearing more monstrous than Dolan though humanly possible.
“What?”
Chief Dolan’s eyes narrowed as he growled the question.
“WHY?”
The woman spit out a glob of congealed blood before responding.
“You’ll find out soon enough, Chief Dolan. It doesn’t matter where you go – we will find you.”
Dolan grunted and then took the butt end of his revolver and brought it smashing down across the woman’s skull. He knew the blow wasn’t enough to kill her, but it would leave her incapacitated for at least a few hours.
“I don’t think so, lady.”
ONE WEEK LATER:
We will find you…
Tom Dolan suddenly awoke inside the long-abandoned mining cabin they had escaped to following that fateful morning he had literally shot his way free from the mysterious manipulations of the federal agents and Detective Raney.
The voice of the newswoman echoed in his mind as he blinked several times in the late-night gloom, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Next to him his wife Bev lay unmoving and breathing softly. On the other side of the room was his son Max and daughter Grace sleeping as well in beds of their own.
Since driving to the cabin by four wheel drive a week earlier Bev and the kids had come to realize how right Tom was in having a place for them to hide out should things go as terribly wrong as they did. They listened to daily reports from the shortwave radio told by individuals spanning every corner of the country. These were stories of madness, bloodshed, and ever increasing uncertainty. The authorities seemed either unwilling, or incapable of intervening.
The former Marion, Illinois Chief of Police knew better though. At least some of those in positions of authority had planned for this chaos and were now implementing it. Whatever reset button Detective Raney earlier referenced had been pushed – hard.
We will find you…
Dolan moved quietly from the bed, not wanting to wake his wife and kids. They needed their rest. The cabin provided them reasonably comfortable shelter, but most important, it provided necessary seclusion from the madness beyond the borders of the great Shawnee Forest that kept them well hidden from both friend and foe. They had enough canned food to last several more months, the creek outside provided both water and trout, and there was plenty of wildlife in the surrounding area as well for yet more food should they be required to stay even longer.
The loaded AK-47 was propped against the wall near the cabin’s front door. Tom walked to the door and then peeked out the small single-pane window that framed the area to the door’s left. He could see the outline of trees just beyond the cabin’s exterior perimeter. The faint rustle of leaves carried into the inside of the cabin as a brief gust of wind passed overhead.
Damn, now I gotta take a piss.
Being a few years shy of sixty meant Tom Dolan’s prostate was becoming less cooperative than it had been when he was a younger man. He had recently come to learn that when nature called, he best listen. Initially he intended to simply urinate just outside the cabin, but then felt the familiar stirrings of a necessary bowel movement coming on as well.
Tom had constructed a simple outhouse some fifty yards from the cabin, its path marked every ten feet or so by stones to make it easier to navigate in the dark. He slipped his feet inside his boots and took the AK-47 with him, then opened the cabin door as quietly as possible and stepped outside, surprised at how cold the night had become. Another gust of wind pushed the branches of the trees to and fro and then the forest grew still once again.
Dolan carefully made his way to the outhouse, his bladder urging him to pick up the pace. Once inside he sat down and focused on finishing his business as quickly as possible.
We will find you…
The earlier dream-state replaying of the events in Marion continued to plague the former chief of police. He shook his
head in an attempt to push that day’s horrors from his mind. He just wanted to get back in bed with Bev and try to manage a few hours more of uninterrupted sleep before morning.
Once back outside, Dolan paused to listen to his surroundings. The tall trees stared down at him like silent, unblinking sentinels.
Off in the distance, perhaps a hundred yards to the north, the sound of a branch breaking caused Tom to flinch. Dolan tilted his head toward the noise while holding his breath, trying to determine if something was out there moving between the trees.
American Survivalist: RACE WARS OMNIBUS: Seasons 1-5 Of An American Survivalist Series... Page 10
