Forgotten Forbidden America: Rise of Tyranny

by Thomas A. Watson

  He closed his laptop. “Baby, I’m going to ride my bike around to see if I can find a place to hide the truck and trailer,” he said, walking to his closet.

  “Want me to come with you?” she asked, about to get out of bed.

  “No, if the kids wake up, I think it will be too much for Nellie,” he explained, pulling out a black jogging suit.

  “Where are you thinking?” she asked.

  “I’m going to look across the road first. That family hasn’t been here since March,” he said, getting dressed. “Then, I’m going to look south at that campground and north at those houses for sale.”

  “Please be careful,” she said, lying down.

  Walking out, he grabbed the radio off the counter and put it on Michelle’s nightstand. “I will, baby. If you need me, just call my cellphone or use the radio,” he said, grabbing his 1911 and magazines.

  “I hope you’re not going to walk,” she said.

  Stopping in the door, he smiled. “No, I’m taking my super bike.”

  “Don’t wreck,” she said, putting her head down. “Your bikes are on the trailers in the garage.”

  Walking out, Nelson stopped and patted the dogs then grabbed his cellphone, keys, and radio off the counter. Looking around, he gave a heavy sigh and walked into the garage. He opened the big gun safe and smiled, seeing the guns still there. The guns would only be loaded when they left.

  He grabbed his AR-10 and pulled it out. It was set up for long-range competition shooting. Setting the rifle to the side, he pulled out his waist pack, put it on, and put his 1911 in the holster and the magazines in the front pouch. Digging around, he found two full magazines for the AR-10. He looked at the 7.62 shell. He put his gloves on then unloaded the shells and wiped them off. Happy they were FMJ, he reloaded them and put the magazines in his waist pack. In competition, he could hit targets at eight hundred yards with the rifle, but if everything went well, he wouldn’t need that for tonight.

  Looking on the wall, he found his small daypack, grabbed it, and pulled out his range finder then put it in the pack. Reaching back in the safe, he pulled out the 7.62 suppressor and twisted it on the rifle. Making sure the rifle was empty, he popped the pins, separating the upper and lower and carefully put them in the main compartment of the backpack. The suppressor and barrel stuck out the top, but he didn’t care. Last, he grabbed his black shooting gloves from the safe then closed and locked it.

  Walking to the trailer, he found his two mountain bikes lashed to the side. One was a high-end bike for races. The next was his super bike, a carbon-frame electric mountain bike he had talked a vendor into giving him a deal on when he was training for the Ironman. With the motor running and his pedaling, he had hit forty miles an hour before.

  Unlatching the bike from the side of the trailer, he carefully lowered and checked the battery and smiled upon seeing it was full. Pushing his bike to the side door, he put on his pack and turned the alarm off then pushed his bike out, turned the alarm back on, and closed the door. Leaving his bike, he went to the shop in the backyard. It felt weird not seeing all the stuff inside. Walking over to the safe, he opened it and pulled out one of the NV monoculars and one of the thermal monoculars. After turning them on and checking the batteries, he grabbed the head harness and put them in his waist pack. After locking up, he headed back for his bike.

  Jumping on, he pedaled out to the street and headed toward town. When he arrived at the stop sign, he reached down and turned on the electric motor. Not seeing any traffic, he started pedaling hard and felt the wind hit his face and roar in his ears.

  Staying on Crenshaw, he moved to the side of the road and pushed the pedals hard. He looked down and saw he was doing thirty-six miles per hour. Only slowing to turn on different roads, he was really stunned at the lack of traffic and few people about. Not that he was complaining; it made his work much easier.

  It wasn’t even fifteen minutes later he was slowing down and pulling off the road. Turning off the battery, he looked across the road and saw the Double Tree hotel building. Making sure his battery was off, he pushed his bike behind the buildings across the street.

  He walked behind the buildings, reached the end, and found a refrigerated trailer parked next to the building just where he wanted to be. He noticed a large, metal dumpster at the back of the building. Pushing his bike next to the dumpster, he found sheets of cardboard and laid them over his bike then climbed onto the dumpster.

  Moving to the side, he could see on top of the trailer. Reaching out and grabbing the edge, he pulled himself up. He crouched when he got on the top, eased his pack off, and pulled out his rifle to put it back together. Pulling out a magazine, he eased it in and made sure it was seated then chambered a round.

  When the bolt slammed forward, shattering the silence, he dropped down. “Yeah, that was real ninja,” he mumbled. Slowly looking around, he didn’t see anyone as he extended the bipod on the rifle and moved to the end of the trailer. He pulled out the other magazine for the rifle and laid it beside him. He pulled out his laser range finder and started taking readings.

  Aiming at the front of the hotel, he smiled, seeing three hundred and seventy-four yards. After making a few more, he put his range finder up and dialed in his scope. Bringing the stock to his shoulder, he started scanning the parking lot and didn’t see any Suburban.

  Setting the rifle down, he put his backpack on, looked at his watch, and saw it was almost eleven. He made sure the spare magazine was the only thing laying out then turned toward the hotel. Getting as comfortable as he could, he lay in the dark, watching the occasional car move down the road. When he saw a cop car pass, he looked through his scope to see if he knew who it was.

  Not recognizing the officer, he lifted his head and looked around as a thought struck him about surveillance cameras. Lowering his head over the scope, he scanned around for them and saw four looking over the Double Tree parking lot and one at the door. Then, he looked on this side of the street and didn’t see any. Feeling better, he relaxed and waited.

  Feeling his legs start to tingle, Nelson wiggled his feet slowly and looked back at his watch and saw it was one a.m. Hearing a vehicle approaching, he turned and saw a black Suburban slowing down on the road. Keeping both eyes open, he calmed his breathing and followed the truck in his crosshairs.

  The Suburban drove to the front of the hotel and turned toward him, parking almost directly in front of him. When the lights turned off, he slowed his breathing and flipped the safety off and rested his finger lightly on the trigger and slightly shifted his weight forward onto the rifle’s bipod.

  All four doors opened together as four people got out, and Nelson closed his left eye. One was wearing a blue windbreaker with ATF on it. Two of the other three were men who were carrying sport coats over one arm, and Nelson could see their weapons and badges on their belts. The last one was a woman wearing a polo shirt and khaki jeans with her pistol and badge on her belt.

  Like before, they all closed their doors at almost the same time and walked toward the hotel, talking and laughing. Resting his crosshairs on the one furthest to the back, Nelson could see they were laughing hard as his finger slowly squeezed the trigger.

  Pop. The rifle coughed and bucked, startling him, and he moved the crosshairs to the woman’s back, squeezed, heard the dull pop, and felt the rifle buck against his shoulder. He moved his crosshairs to the man who was in front of his first target and found him on the ground, holding his hip.

  Resting his crosshairs on his chest, he squeezed and moved to the last man, who was pulling his pistol and moving to the woman, who was holding her chest. Nelson squeezed the trigger twice and left his crosshairs on the man and watched both shots hit him square in the chest.

  Seeing his first target trying to crawl away, Nelson aimed at his upper back, squeezed off two rounds, and watched them hit. Moving back to the woman, he squeezed the trigger two more times, watching both rounds slam into her chest as she collapsed on the concret
e.

  Moving the crosshairs from one target to the next, Nelson sent at least one more into each body until he felt the bolt lock back. Ejecting the empty magazine, Nelson slammed in the new one and lowered his eye to the scope.

  Not seeing them moving and satisfied they were down, he grabbed his empty magazine, stuffing it in his waist pack as he slung the rifle across his back. He quickly moved to the back of the trailer, lowered himself to the dumpster, and jumped off. Grabbing his bike, he turned on the battery and started pedaling hard.

  He was over a mile away when he heard the first sirens and turned his bike off the road into a small stand of trees. Stopping, he pulled his rifle off his back and took it apart to shove it in his pack. Hearing more sirens, he guided his bike back to the road but stayed on the sidewalk and started pedaling.

  When he was over two miles away, he moved back to the street but stayed on the edge as he pushed the pedals hard as the number of sirens kept increasing. He was halfway home when he saw a car coming toward him. Quickly, he pulled off the street and coasted up to a house and stopped beside it. It was only seconds until the car flew past, and he saw it was a police cruiser without the overhead lights on.

  He waited until the cruiser was gone then headed back to the street and continued on. Pushing the pedals as hard and fast as he could, Nelson finally turned off on his road but didn’t slow down. When he saw his house, he stopped pedaling and coasted to his driveway. Steering his bike to the side of the house, he stopped by the side door. Looking at his watch, he chuckled softly. “I’m home twenty-three minutes after the last shot.”

  Pulling out his keys, he unlocked the door and turned off the alarm. He pushed his bike in and put it back on the trailer then put the rifle and other equipment up. Locking the side door, he turned the alarm on and went inside to find the dogs sitting in front of the door, waiting on him, and he stopped and patted both of them on the head.

  Heading to the refrigerator, he pulled out some leftovers and a pitcher of tea. Grabbing a plate, he fixed some food and put the plate in the microwave as he poured a glass of tea. Hearing someone moving down the hall, he turned and saw Michelle walk in the kitchen. “Find any good spots?” she asked.

  “Not really,” he said. “I’m afraid to pull it onto dirt I don’t know with the rain we had last week; I don’t want to get stuck. That truck and trailer are really heavy.”

  “Well, the only things not covered by tarps are the side-by-sides,” she said, walking over to him. “If anyone asks, we can tell them we are moving,” she offered.

  “Yeah, plus, if I move it to where we can’t watch it, someone might just take it,” he said, hugging her.

  “Let’s go to bed. I’m sure tomorrow is going to be hurry up and wait,” she said, pulling him to the bedroom.

  “Yeah, and I hate that,” he said, letting her pull him to the bedroom.

  Chapter 8

  The phone ringing woke them up, making both jump up in the bed. Nelson turned to look at the clock and saw it was just after five a.m. He looked at Michelle and noticed she was holding her pistol in the ready position.

  When the phone rang again, they both jumped, and Michelle spun toward the phone but kept the pistol pointed up in the ready position. Realizing it was the phone making the noise, she put her pistol on the nightstand as the phone rang again.

  “Hello,” she croaked, grabbing the phone.

  “Michelle, I’m sorry to wake you up, but I’m less than two miles from your house. I should be there in a few minutes. Can you open the door for me?” a voice said.

  “Ashley?” Michelle croaked as her brain slowly came up to speed.

  “Yes, it’s me,” she said, almost in a panic.

  “Okay, I’ll meet you at the door,” Michelle said then hung up and grabbed her pistol.

  Watching Michelle leave with her pistol without saying anything got Nelson worried as he jumped out of bed, grabbed his own pistol, and trotted out after her. He found Michelle peeking through the front window. “What’s going on?” he asked, moving up beside her.

  “It was Ashley saying she was almost here, but she sounded really nervous,” Michelle said, looking through the window.

  “Someone following her?” Nelson asked, worried.

  “She didn’t say,” Michelle answered. Handing her his pistol, Nelson then bolted from the room to his closet. He pulled a rifle case off the top shelf and pulled out an AR-15. A laser and light were mounted beside the forward grip, and an EoTech sight was on top. Grabbing two magazines, Nelson ran back to the living room, slamming a magazine in and chambering a round.

  Reaching up, he turned on the sight and moved up beside Michelle. “Anything?” he said in a low voice, turning off the alarm.

  “I see car lights coming,” Michelle said, and Nelson moved toward the door and pulled the stock up to his shoulder. “It’s her; she’s in Matt’s truck pulling the trailer,” Michelle said.

  “See anything behind her?” Nelson asked.

  She shook her head. “No, and I don’t see lights down the road,” Michelle told him. “She’s in the driveway.”

  When he saw the lights shining on the windows go off, Nelson opened the door and moved outside. Listening carefully, he didn’t hear another car close, and he moved over to Matt’s truck as Ashley jumped out. “You okay?” Nelson called out softly.

  “I’m better now,” she said, closing the truck door softly. As she walked toward him, Nelson saw her holster a pistol.

  “Someone following you?” he asked, looking back up the road.

  Stopping in front of him, she shook her head. “Not that I saw.”

  “Let’s get inside,” he told her, and she walked past him as he backed toward the house.

  When they were inside, Michelle locked the door and armed the alarm. “What’s wrong, Ashley?” she asked, handing Nelson his pistol back. Putting the tactical sling of his rifle over his head, Nelson let the AR hang across his chest and took the pistol.

  Ashley dropped down on the couch. “The federal agents are dead,” she announced.

  “What?” Michelle asked, moving over to Ashley.

  “They were shot,” Ashley said, looking up. Her mascara had streaked down her face from her tears. “It’s not going to be long before people come after Matt and us,” she declared.

  Stepping over to stand beside Michelle, Nelson said, “But Matt never did anything. None of the cops did except ride along with them,” he said.

  Ashley nodded. “Yeah, they were with them,” she sobbed. “I have to get my babies away from here before someone comes to kill us because Matt was with them.”

  Michelle sat down beside her. “Ashley, I could understand your fear more if Matt had arrested someone or helped take people’s property, but he didn’t.”

  “I talked to an officer Netter at the store. He said none of the cops did but were worried they were about to be forced to,” Nelson said. “Matt told me the same thing tonight before he left.”

  Leaning over, Ashley put her head on Michelle’s shoulder. “You think we’re safe for now?” Ashley asked.

  “From the general population? Yes I do but not from the government and any that follow them,” Michelle said, wrapping her arm around Ashley.

  Nelson knelt in front of Ashley, laying his pistol on the floor then grabbing both of her hands in his. “Ashley,” he said in a gentle voice. “Don’t take this the wrong way,” he paused. “But you need to save your cries. You’re a strawberry blond with fair skin, and when you cry, you get really splotchy,” he told her sincerely.

  With a loud snort, Ashley busted out laughing along with Michelle and flopped back on the couch. Nelson let her hands go and picked up his pistol as he stood up. “Oh man, I needed that,” Ashley laughed, wiping her face.

  “Well, I didn’t want to say anything, but Nelson is right; you get really splotchy.” Michelle smiled at her, making her laugh harder.

  Laughter rocked Ashley’s body for a few minutes, and then she too
k a deep breath. “Thank you guys,” she said, leaning over and hugging Michelle.

  “Don’t mention it,” Michelle said, hugging her back.

  “Baby, why don’t you take Ashley back to our room and let her shower? Then, she can sleep in our bed with you and the two body beaters,” Nelson said, moving to the recliner.

  “That’s a good idea,” Michelle said, standing, and she pulled Ashley up.

  “Both the girls are in your bed?” she asked in awe.

  Nelson huffed. “Girls my ass. I’ve never been beat like that before, but yeah, Nellie is in Olivia’s bed,” he said.

  Nodding, Ashley said, “I know Brittany is rough, but both of them? I might just lay on the floor,” Ashley said as Michelle pulled her to the bedroom. When they were gone, Nelson realized he was sitting in his boxers and a tank top.

  Setting his pistol on the end table, he chuckled, “I go to fight a battle in my underwear.”

  “I think it was sexy,” Michelle said, walking back in, carrying some clothes for him.

  Looking over at Michelle, he noticed she was wearing a dark green, silk teddy. “Me?” Nelson huffed. “I’m glad I didn’t notice what you were wearing because I would’ve got shot because I would’ve tried to sneak a peek at you.”

  She put the clothes on his lap. “Want me to lay on the couch with you?” she asked.

  Shaking his head, he said, “Nah, I’m going to pack up the guns.”

  She knelt beside him and said softly, “Baby, you need to get some rest.”

  “I’m good, sweetie. I promise,” he said, standing up. He grabbed the khaki pants and saw they were thankfully his tactical pants and not his dress pants. Then, he pulled on a dark gray polo shirt. Walking into the kitchen, he grabbed his holster off the bar and turned around to find Michelle just looking at him.