American Survivalist: RACE WARS OMNIBUS: Seasons 1-5 Of An American Survivalist Series...

by D. W. Ulsterman

  They would make rabid dogs of us all and within that mayhem declare themselves justified in putting the gun to our collective heads, for what must you do with a rabid dog but kill it to ensure the safety of others?

  More towns have been decimated since last I spoke with you. People who were your friends, your family, your neighbors…they are no more. Those of you barricaded behind the militarized walls of the cities, is it safety you chose, or a prison into which you willingly became an inmate of?

  When shall you join with us outside the prison walls and fight to take back what was always intended to be ours? Freedom is not an abstract. Freedom is real, freedom is what made America the envy of the world, but we gave it away, bit by bit, drip by drip, until finally we turned upon ourselves when so easily motivated by our masters to do so.

  That is about to change. There will be a signal soon. Look for it. Listen for it. When you see it, when you hear it, know it for what it is and then begin the work of taking it ALL back from them.

  America belongs to you. It always has. Now it is up to all of us to make certain it always will.

  The recording ended.

  Fred took a deep breath and then shook his head slowly as his left hand reached back to scratch the back of his white-haired head.

  “Damn I wish I was just twenty years younger. I’d be out there kicking authority in the teeth with both feet!”

  Silas Toms stood up with his hat in his hands and thanked Sadie for the food and coffee.

  “You’re leaving already?”

  Silas sensed the elderly couple wanted Lu and him to stay, but the radio recording had fanned a flame that had burned low of late. He knew it was time to get back to the ranch.

  “I’ve work to do. I’ll be back soon though with more supplies. I shouldn’t have waited so long to visit. I won’t wait that long again. It’s my nature to only require my own company, but I think that’s about to change.”

  Fred cocked his head to the side as his eyes narrowed.

  “What kind of change are you talking about, Silas?”

  Silas used the brim of his hat to point at Fred.

  “It’s like you just said, there comes a time when a man has to kick authority in the teeth with both feet. I guess I intend to start kickin’.”

  -------------------------

  EPISODE THIRTY:

  Twenty-four hours later…

  “I want him dead, General. I want him dead and I want it done yesterday. You find the son-of-a-bitch and terminate him and his damn radio program. He’s threatening to send a signal and I don’t think it prudent for us to sit around to see what that signal is going to be.”

  Admiral Walter Briggs was surprised to find the doctor so openly concerned about the ramblings of some mysterious radio personality. The Joint Chiefs Chairman was far more focused on the ongoing push back against the encroaching military threat from both Russia and China and the ongoing effort to try and further stabilize the still-precarious U.S. economy.

  “I don’t feel the need to utilize resources at this time to track down who this might be, Dr. Sage. Not when we have multiple military encroachments by the Russians and Chinese on both coasts, the ongoing mess along the southern border and even the damn Canadian government has initiated a full-on shoot to kill order for any Americans attempting to cross the northern border into their country. I’m sorry, but this radio program is just not a high priority for me.”

  Fenwick Sage’s mouth twisted into a snarling scowl as he used the tip of his right pointer finger to hit the top of the brightly polished mahogany table inside the Pentagon conference room that was adjacent to Admiral Briggs’ personal office.

  “It’s important to me, Admiral! That means it should be important to you as well! I don’t want excuses. I want results! I want that voice on the radio gone! He’s instigating rebellion for God’s sake! You think the Russians and Chinese are a threat to your authority? How about ten or twenty million pissed off Americans marching on D.C.? That isn’t beyond the realm of possibility, you know.”

  The admiral folded his hands together in front of him and rested them upon the top of the desk. He had long ago grown tired of the doctor’s preening self-importance and looked forward to the time when EPA official’s participation was no longer necessary to the ongoing restructuring of the American government.

  “It is your responsibility to keep the rural areas under control, Dr. Sage. You wanted that task, correct?”

  The doctor’s eyes flashed superior indignation. At that moment he would have liked nothing more than to see the admiral’s neck ripped open from one ear to the other.

  “Yes, Admiral Briggs, but how am I to do that if you refuse to fully appreciate my expertise?”

  The admiral’s jaw clenched tightly several times as he fought the urge to rise up, reach across the desk, and snap Sage’s neck.

  “With all due respect, Doctor, you’ve been given more than adequate resources to carry out your responsibilities as they pertain to Protocol X implementation. If you are failing to do so despite those resources, I’ll be happy to assign someone who can actually get the job done.”

  Sage was decidedly unimpressed by the implied threat.

  “I don’t think you should consider your position so secure that you would entertain ideas of replacing me just yet, Admiral Briggs. I still have the full support of the President and the leading members of Congress.”

  The admiral grunted.

  “While that may be true, Doctor, we are under Martial Law in this country and likely will remain so for some time, which means I am in charge. Now I’ve already told you I have precious few resources to spare for your beloved Protocol X. If you want to go after this voice on the radio who you think has become such a problem, you’ll need to find the time to do that on your own.”

  The doctor opened his mouth to dispute the admiral’s indifference to the mysterious shortwave radio broadcasts when both men felt a tremor vibrate through the table and floor of the conference room.

  “What the hell was that, an earthquake?”

  The admiral’s question was left unanswered as the first tremor was followed by a second and then a third, each more powerful than the previous one.

  Admiral Briggs knew the Pentagon’s construction was rated to safely withstand an earthquake of up to a 7.9 magnitude. The fact anything was felt at all within the massive structure indicated whatever the cause of the tremors had to be significant.

  “That was no earthquake. Those tremors were too shallow.”

  The admiral glanced down at the doctor as he stood up from the conference table. He then looked toward the hallway entrance door and counted down silently in his head for it to suddenly open.

  Four…three…two…one…

  There was a brief knock and then the door swung inward to reveal Admiral Briggs’ personal assistant, Lieutenant Commander Carlos Smith. Smith was a thinly-built man in his early forties of average height and abnormally dark hair which he kept cut short and neatly parted to the right side of his head. He had been Briggs’ assistant for the last three years and was noted for his unquestioned devotion to the admiral.

  “Sorry for the interruption, sir. There’s been an incident.”

  Briggs straightened the dark tie on his formal naval officer dress uniform and then waited for Smith to elaborate. Commander Smith cleared his throat as he closed the door behind him.

  “At this time specific details are not entirely clear but it appears there have been three separate explosions – significant explosions inside of Washington D.C.”

  “How significant?”

  Smith shook his head and shrugged.

  “Too early to tell, sir. Everything is preliminary at this point.

  “Are we gathering in the command center?”

  Smith nodded. Briggs noted something in the commander’s demeanor that indicated he was deeply troubled by something else he had not yet told him.

  “What is it, Commander?”

 
; “Sir, we immediately attempted to contact the President. There was…no response.”

  Admiral Briggs felt a chill run up his spine.

  “What about the Capital?”

  “I don’t know, sir. I think we should go. They’ll be waiting for your input.”

  Dr. Sage had stood up as well, though given his stature it was hard to tell.

  “This had to have been an inside job. To be able to bypass the security perimeter around the city, that would have taken someone with considerable knowledge of our defenses.”

  The admiral’s hard stare settled upon Sage where it remained for several glowering seconds.

  “For all we know, it was you, Dr. Sage.”

  The doctor appeared ready to laugh and then simply rolled his eyes.

  “Not likely, Admiral Briggs, but I appreciate the thought.”

  Briggs moved toward the hallway door and then stopped to motion for the doctor to follow.

  “Appreciation or not, you’re coming with me to the cellar.”

  Dr. Sage took a step back from the desk.

  “I’m sorry Admiral, but I have pressing matters elsewhere.”

  Briggs was in no mood to be told no.

  “I wasn’t asking, Doctor. Now let’s go.”

  Dr. Sage found himself doing as he was told – and hating every second of it. Three minutes later found him transported into the lower bowels of the Pentagon, past numerous security checks until finally he entered the facility’s legendary Military Command Center. He quickly scanned the four thousand square foot space and found himself surprised at how fearful the faces of the various personnel appeared as they paused briefly to give Admiral Briggs a salute and then scurried by.

  “We should have a visual link in a moment, sir.”

  Briggs stood before an expansive wall dominated by six large, dark media screens while Commander Smith stood to the admiral’s left and Sage stood to his right. Two uniformed officers were speaking in hushed tones into secured, landline phones seated at a long desk just under the screens while two other uniformed personnel, one a young man and another an equally young woman, were reviewing initial crisis reports flashing across their computer monitors.

  “Do you want me to attempt contact with the Secretary of Defense, sir?”

  Briggs knew such an attempt would have been procedure in more normal times. The power of the Joint Chiefs was largely advisory since the Goldwater-Nichols Act of 1986 that added yet another layer of civilian control over the operational intent of the U.S. Military. That layer had been ripped apart by the declaration of Martial Law though, and Admiral Briggs had no intention of pretending otherwise. This was his show. His word was the law.

  “No, I want to wait until I can see what we’re up against here.”

  The center screen flickered to life. Briggs found himself leaning forward trying to determine what exactly he was seeing. The military helicopter’s fly-over image depicted a smoldering pile of white-stoned rubble engulfed in black-smoke flames. Several emergency response vehicles encircled the site, their lights flashing a hellish red that complimented the hunger of the worsening fire.

  “What am I looking at here, Commander?”

  Smith cleared his throat and answered in an almost-whisper.

  “That’s the White House, Admiral.”

  Briggs’ eyes widened with shock.

  “WHAT?”

  There could be no survivors – the entire centuries-old structure that was the White House was no more. The admiral lowered his head and placed a trembling right hand over his face.

  “What kind of explosion was it, Commander?”

  Smith glanced at Dr. Sage and then waited to get the admiral’s approval to respond. Briggs nodded.

  “We believe it was the primary gas line that serviced the White House - some kind of pressurized malfunction.”

  Admiral Briggs pointed to the screen and screamed his disagreement.

  “Malfunction my ass! That was an attack! Get me Directors Bell and Pensky ASAP!”

  Briggs had little regard for either Miranda Bell or Colonel Jordan Pensky and even less for the NSA and the Homeland Security agencies they were in charge of. That said, he knew the scope of whatever had befallen the White House would require an all hands on deck approach. There would be many lining up to place blame for the crisis on him and he intended to make certain that blame was shared among as many others as possible.

  One of the uniformed officers seated behind the admiral spoke up. It was the young female.

  “Admiral Briggs, it’s just been confirmed the President was inside the White House at the time of the explosion. And sir…”

  The woman’s voice trailed off. Her resistance to finish her thought infuriated the admiral.

  “WHAT?”

  “Sir, there was a cabinet meeting scheduled at the White House today. Directors Pensky and Bell were among those believed to have been attending.”

  Briggs closed his eyes.

  “Oh my god…”

  “There are no coincidences, only intended conclusions.”

  The admiral opened his eyes and found Dr. Sage looking up at him with a face that appeared far too content given the horrific circumstances.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Sage pointed to the screen.

  “That gas explosion, given what we now know regarding the scheduled cabinet meeting, cannot be a coincidence. No, Admiral Briggs, what you see on that screen is the intended conclusion of a rather well thought out and executed attack against your authority.”

  The admiral knew Sage was right regarding the likelihood of the White House tragedy being an intentional attack. He also knew the ramifications of something happening in what was supposed to be among the safest militarized zones in the country would only worsen the ongoing chaos both inside and outside of those zones.

  His job had just become immeasurably more difficult.

  As soon as he was coming to terms with that realization, Admiral Briggs found himself tested further.

  Yet another massive explosion momentarily darkened the military chopper’s visual. It took several seconds before the screen’s image cleared enough for anyone to make out what had just happened.

  The admiral’s whisper did nothing to diminish his horror.

  “No-no-no…”

  A third of the Capitol Building’s great domed roof had collapsed as smoke billowed forth from the hole underneath. A second explosion soon followed which resulted in the entire roof disappearing into a pile of broken and charred rubble below.

  “That’s just three miles from our own location. Admiral, I was once told some years ago that this room is a fortified, blast-proof location. Is that true?”

  Admiral Briggs nodded slowly while he kept his eyes glued to the images flashing across the screen above him.

  “Yeah, that’s true. It’s not Raven Rock, but it’s close.”

  Sage knew Raven Rock was a reference to the nuclear bunker deep inside the Blue Ridge Mountains in Pennsylvania that served as a secondary military command and control center should the primary Pentagon facility be compromised.

  “I certainly hope so, Admiral Briggs.”

  The admiral finally realized the intended warning within the doctor’s comment. He looked away from the wall monitor at the very moment a massive explosion from somewhere outside the room caused the interior of the Pentagon command center’s metal-framed walls to groan their discontent. The lights above flickered once, then twice, and then went out, but were almost instantly replaced by the battery-supplied power source contained just underneath the very four-inch thick steel floor upon which the admiral and doctor stood.

  The faint buzz-drone sound of an emergency warning system was heard from outside the command center. This was momentarily drowned out by the rumbling roar of a second explosion that nearly knocked both the admiral and doctor off their feet.

  Briggs looked up to see the wall screens had returned to darkness, an indicat
ion both of the Pentagon’s primary and secondary communication systems were down.

  “Get me a status report!”

  Commander Smith circled the room trying to locate a computer that was still functioning. He soon gave up.

  “Nothing is online, sir. I’ll keep trying though.”

  Briggs’ shoulders slumped as the weight of what had just taken place fell upon shoulders more accustomed to a military career devoted to furthering his own rank. He was not a man of war but one of constant self-promotion.