Nelson listened, and his eyes got wide. “Oh shit,” he said. Spinning around, he jumped up on the front of his truck, standing on the bumper.
“What?!” Michelle snapped, getting worried.
He looked down at them. “Just who would be the people leaving the city?” he asked. “Gerald, give me those binoculars.”
Gerald walked over and handed them up. “You’re saying they want to catch preppers?”
“What are the odds of two state troopers that just happen to set up on a very small road, one we were on earlier tonight? If they wanted to catch people trying to leave a city, they would set up on highways, but people who are prepared, which usually have food stores and weapons, they all know to use back roads to avoid traffic and road blocks,” Nelson said, looking at the black and gray world in the thermal binoculars.
“Dude, you are talking some real conspiracy theory shit now,” Matt said with a nervous chuckle. “Even if they were doing that, think of the resources it would take.”
“Matt, a CB base station can get fifty miles. We couldn’t talk to them, but they could hear us and triangulate. It wouldn’t take much to set up,” Nelson said, never lowering the binoculars.
“Okay, so what do you think we should do?” Gerald asked, walking over.
“Only you will use the radio from now on and use trucker lingo. We will only use it for an emergency. Gavin has been doing good with the radio checks, and he can use Ashley’s phone to check on everyone every half hour,” Nelson said. Everyone looked around, nodding. “They’re leaving,” Nelson announced.
“Where are they going?” Matt asked, moving over, half expecting the troopers to come plowing across the fields that separated them. They were on a ridge looking down into a shallow valley with a small rise between them and the troopers.
Lowering the thermals, Nelson announced, “Back towards Springfield.”
“Thank God,” Michelle said, letting out a breath. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Michelle, give Gavin one of the cards you made with everyone’s number,” Nelson said, jumping down.
Reaching out and grabbing Nelson’s arm, Gerald moved his face close to Nelson’s then said in a low voice, “Nelson, if they are doing what you think, we are totally fucked. That would mean they are wanting the very people who would fight back right out of the gate. They haven’t passed any of the laws to confiscate guns—martial law or the others to justify it,” Gerald told him.
“Wrong,” Nelson said. “Those presidential orders make it illegal to not work. You can’t quit your job without government approval, and in case you don’t realize, we have guns outside a residence.”
“Shit,” Gerald spat. “Mount up. We are getting the hell out of here. Anyone need to pee?” he asked, looking around.
“They can hold it,” Michelle snapped.
Whirling around, Gerald trotted for his truck. “Then let’s move.”
With a sense of urgency driven by fear of the unknown, everyone took off running. As Gerald slowly pulled down the road, Nelson stood on his running board, flipping down his monocular, looking back at the others. When they were all in their vehicles, he dropped in his seat, threw his rifle and map on the dash, and slammed the door shut.
Feeling the tension from Nelson, Zeus became alert, looking for a threat as Nelson dropped his truck into drive. The diesel growled as he pressed on the accelerator, getting his loaded truck moving.
He and Michelle had driven this way a few times to the farm over the last few years when they were finding alternate routes. They never treated it tactically; it was just a family drive to the farm. Now, Nelson was mentally kicking himself because he couldn’t remember how far it was to the next turnoff, and Gerald had his atlas.
Groaning in frustration and giving up trying to remember, Nelson pulled his map off the dashboard. Holding it over the steering wheel, he slowly glanced back and forth from the road to the map until he found the road they were on.
There were no turnoffs that went anywhere that he could see, and they would head south where the dirt road met a small state blacktop ahead. With a rough guesstamation, Nelson was putting the turn thirty miles ahead.
Disgusted they were trapped on the road with no way off until the turn, he threw the map on the dash and looked down at his speedometer. He was going thirty-five and looked up and could see Gerald a half a mile in front of him, kicking up dust. Seeing that he was gaining, Nelson slowed a little and looked in his side mirror.
He could see Michelle behind him and every now and then make out Nancy through the dust. They couldn’t speed up without turning on lights, and he had to trust Matt was still at the back because he couldn’t see him through the dust.
“Where the hell is a nice summer shower when you need one?” he asked out loud, and Zeus looked over, thinking Nelson was talking to him.
For a dirt road, it wasn’t bad, but farm equipment used it, and the road had some nice potholes that you couldn’t see with the night vision. You only knew it when your vehicle suddenly gave a lurch.
Resigned to their fate, Nelson tried to go over the rest of their route in his head to keep his mind from wandering. He tried to block out thoughts of helicopters suddenly descending on them or a drone releasing a missile, making one of the trucks disappear.
After half an hour, he started to relax and poured a cup of coffee. Seeing Zeus was still tense, Nelson reached over and patted him. Putting down his coffee cup, he pulled out a cup and, using his knee to steer, filled it with water. Holding the cup in front of Zeus’ muzzle, he said, “Drink.”
Unable to stick his snout in, Zeus unrolled his massive tongue. Nelson was impressed with how much water Zeus wasn’t spilling as he lapped it up. When Zeus held up his head, Nelson rolled down the window, poured out the slobber, then shoved the cup under his seat so he wouldn’t drink out of it. When his leg vibrated, Nelson let out a yelp then realized it was his phone.
Digging in his pocket, he grabbed the phone and flipped it open. “Hello.”
“Daddy,” Gavin said. “Are you doing okay?” he asked.
“Yes, Daddy’s doing fine. Have you called the others?” Nelson asked.
“Just Uncle Gerald, and he said he was okay,” Gavin said.
With a huge grin, Nelson said, “You’re doing a great job, son. Keep it up.”
“Thank you, Daddy. Don’t forget to change channels. I love you,” Gavin said.
“Love you too, son,” Nelson said, hanging up and putting the phone on the center console.
Settling back in his seat, Nelson followed Gerald down the dirt road with the others. “Breaker One Nine, this is Big Long One,” Gerald’s voice came over the radio, almost giving Nelson a heart attack. “Watch your loads on this exit ramp. The ramp is a really tight turn.”
Reaching for the microphone, Nelson stopped and grabbed the steering wheel. “Radio silence means don’t talk,” he mumbled. He was happy to hear the CB remain silent and wondered if anyone else had almost talked back.
Seeing Gerald’s brake lights light up the night with both his night vision and his unaided eye, Nelson let off the gas, coasted, then tapped his brake to let the others know to slow. He crept up behind Gerald’s trailer and saw Gerald climb up on the roof of his Bronco, holding up the thermal binoculars and looking each way down the road they were about to turn on. When Nelson saw a few hundred yards ahead on the road, he groaned, remembering this turn.
The dirt road they were on didn’t meet the road in a traditional T. It angled into the blacktop very sharply. If they were going left, it wouldn’t even be considered a turn, just a merge. Going to the right was just about doing a U-turn.
With the trailer he was supposed to be pulling, he knew it would be tight because he had done it before. But the trailer he was pulling now was longer and held three times the weight than that one. The one Nancy was pulling with his Bronco.
“This so sucks!” he growled, hitting the steering wheel.
Seein
g Gerald drop down and climb back in his Bronco, Nelson hit the four-wheel drive button, knowing he was going to have to go at least partway in the ditch to get the trailer on the blacktop. As Gerald pulled forward, Nelson turned, hugging the side of the road so he could swing as wide as possible.
When he saw the front of Gerald’s Bronco drop down, going into the opposite ditch, Nelson started his swing. Gerald’s front tire came out of the ditch, and his back tire barely went off the pavement as the trailer stayed on the road.
Looking in his side mirrors, Nelson saw he was about to jackknife and straightened the wheel some. Seeing that buy him some room to work with, he looked up and hit the brakes, almost dropping down into the ditch on the other side of the road.
Throwing the truck in reverse, Nelson spun the steering wheel, trying to straighten out the trailer. When the back tires of the trailer were at the ditch on the dirt road, he stopped and dropped the truck in drive and spun the wheel again. Seeing he hadn’t bought enough room to complete the turn, Nelson pulled up to the ditch and repeated the process three more times.
He saw that the left front tire was going to go down in the ditch, but pissed off and not in the mood to back up, he stomped the gas. The powerful diesel responded with a roar, sending the front tire into the ditch. The tire dropped down and sent out a cloud of dirt as it attempted to climb back out. The truck started to straighten out but lined up parallel with the edge of the ditch. Feeling the back left tire drop off the pavement, Nelson cut the wheel hard to the right.
With a last explosion of dirt, the front tire climbed and bounced onto the blacktop. With all four tires gripping and his foot buried, the truck shot across the road toward the opposite ditch. Letting off the accelerator, he spun the steering wheel away from the ditch, letting out a string of words Michelle would’ve beat him for.
Responding nicely, the truck and trailer straightened out, and Nelson eased up behind Gerald’s trailer. When he stopped, he noticed he was soaked in sweat. “I feel like I gave birth,” he mumbled and grabbed his coffee cup, draining it. He looked back and saw Michelle carefully and slowly making the turn.
Seeing there was more than enough room for the others behind him, Nelson reached up and turned off the four-wheel drive. Putting the truck in park, he sat and tried to calm his breathing. “This is Fab Five. Lights behind,” Matt’s voice rang out of the CB.
Heart and breathing rate suddenly went through the roof as Nelson whipped his head around, looking down the dirt road. In the distance, he could see the shine of headlights way down the road. “Zeus,” he snapped, grabbing his rifle off the dash and pistol off the seat, shoving it in his holster.
Jumping out, he saw Nancy finishing the turn, pulling up behind Michelle, and Matt starting. He ran over to Michelle’s Suburban. Seeing Nelson run toward her, she lowered her window. “Get your ass back in the truck!” she shouted.
“Call Gerald, and tell him to pull over somewhere down the road and wait as long as he can. Get out of here now,” Nelson told her, running to her window.
“No,” she said, getting a dark look on her face.
“Goddamn it, think! We can’t outrun them, and they can call for help. Our kids are here; now go!” he shouted and took off running toward the turnoff. Seeing Nelson running, Matt slowed, rolling down his window. “Get the kids out of here. Michelle will explain,” he said, running past with Zeus at his side.
Hearing the vehicles pull away, he sighed and ran over into the ditch where it met in a sharp point with the dirt road. Getting to his knees, he turned to see the convoy speeding down the road. Turning more, he could now see two headlights far back but getting closer. “It’s probably just some farmer,” he said hopefully, doing a press check on his rifle and felt brass under the bolt. Letting the charging handle go to seat the round, he tapped the assist and lowered his head. Looking from his truck to the dirt road, a pit formed in his stomach.
If it was someone with night vision, they would see it from the dirt road, and he would have to get in a hundred-yard gun battle before they could call for help. Pulling the stock to his shoulder and gripping the barrel in front of the fore grip, he saw the lights steadily getting closer at a nice speed.
“I don’t like this,” he mumbled. “Zeus, heel,” he said, and Zeus’ body became rigid. When the lights started to slow almost across from his truck, Nelson’s already fast heart rate went supersonic. When he realized the car was only slowing for the stop and not because they saw his truck, his heart only slowed some.
Turning his body to follow the car, he suddenly saw with the night vision “Missouri Highway Patrol” on the side, and his breathing stopped, and his pulse became a vibration in his chest. Lowering his body and bringing his rifle up, Nelson flipped the safety off as the car coasted to a stop at the blacktop.
He could see a man wearing a Smokey Bear hat behind the steering wheel, and suddenly, the night lit up in his right, unaided eye, and the monocular dimmed. The driver had turned on a spotlight, shining it down the road away from him. Knowing that light would next turn toward him, Nelson jumped up and ran.
Jumping up onto the dirt road, he squeezed the trigger and felt the rifle buckle against his shoulder and let out a cough from the suppressor. The passenger window shattered as two more rounds coughed from his rifle, making the shards fall away.
Seeing the figure jump, Nelson shoved the barrel of his rifle through the shattered window. “Move, and you will die!” he shouted.
“I’m the state police!” the man shouted, holding up his hands. “Lower your weapon!”
“You talk when I say. You move, you will die; do you understand?” Nelson asked, hitting the laser on his rifle. The officer nodded, seeing the green laser on his chest. Looking into the car, Nelson smiled, seeing his shots had gone through the passenger window, hitting the front windshield like he wanted it to. “Now, with your left hand, reach over and put the car in park, and turn off the engine. I can put half a dozen rounds in you before you roll a foot, so don’t get creative,” he commanded, turning off the laser and turning on the light on his rifle.
The officer winced when the light turned on but squinted so he could see and put the car in park with his left hand. “Very good. Continue to follow my instructions, and you will live through the night,” Nelson said as the officer turned off the car.
Reaching forward, Nelson opened the passenger door so the officer could see. “Zeus,” Nelson said, and Zeus let out a growl. The officer’s eyes got wide, only able to make out the dog’s shape behind the glare of the rifle light. “Now, with your right hand, reach over and slowly open the door. The dog is trained to kill, but you won’t get the chance to draw as I shoot you and let him rip your throat out.”
Slowly, the officer opened the door and raised his right hand. “Slowly get out and look away from me,” Nelson said, turning off his light. The officer did what Nelson asked as Nelson went around the back of the car, keeping the officer in his sights.
“Don’t look at my face, or I’ll be forced to kill you,” Nelson said, coming around the car. “Turn around, and put your hands on the car. I’m giving the dog a command; if you move, he’s to kill, so don’t move. He’ll have you down before I can shout the halt command.”
Closing his eyes, the officer turned around away from Nelson and put his hands on the car. “Zeus, movement kill,” Nelson said, letting his rifle drop and hang from the sling at his side and pulling his pistol out.
Slowly easing up, Nelson put the pistol at the base of the officer’s head. Reaching around, he undid the officer’s duty rig and let it fall. Seeing the hand mic attached to the officer’s shoulder, Nelson unclipped it, letting it fall with the belt.
Patting the officer down, Nelson found a pistol in the small of his back and another in an ankle holster. “Now, we have radios that can hear, so don’t lie,” Nelson said, backing up. “Where are the units with CBs tracking us?”
“One is eighteen miles to the south from here. The other is sev
en miles to the west,” he responded with a whimper.
“It’s not state police, so who is it?” Nelson asked, kicking the duty belt and guns away.
Starting to tremble, the officer answered, “Homeland.”
“Now, if I think you’re lying, you don’t live for sunrise,” Nelson said. “What the fuck are you and them out here for?”
“Catching people leaving cites with weapons,” the officer answered.
“You mean you’re catching preppers?” Nelson asked, and the officer nodded. “How many have you caught?”
“Sixteen,” he responded.
“People or vehicles?” Nelson asked, looking back down the dirt road but not seeing anything.
The officer’s breath quickened. “Vehicles,” he said quietly.
“Where’s your partner? And I know how to operate that computer in your car.”
He let out a shocked gasp. “She’s headed up 558 to see if the group headed north. Are you the group that calls out numbers?” he asked.
“Oh, so you have been listening,” Nelson growled as his finger dropped to the trigger of his pistol.
“You were following military-like procedures with your calls and changing channels. That’s what set them off,” the officer replied as the radio on the ground went off.
The radio sounded, “Unit four and unit eleven, new contact; move south toward Elkhead and will vector you in.”
“Who are you?” Nelson asked.
“Unit four,” the officer answered as the radio sounded again.
“This is eleven. Copy,” came a female voice.
“I’m going to handcuff you to the fence behind us. Your friends will eventually find you when they trace your low jack. I’m going to let you reply. If you try anything, you’ll die, and I’ll be long gone before they get here. Understand?” Nelson asked, and the officer nodded with tears of relief.
Nelson picked up the hand mic and put it by the officer’s mouth. “This is four. Copy,” he called out when Nelson pushed the button.
Forgotten Forbidden America: Rise of Tyranny Page 17
