by Robert Boren
Bug Out! California
Book 1
Creeping Tyranny
Robert G Boren
Contents
Chapter 1 – Dulzura Full-Timers
Chapter 2 – The Range
Chapter 3 – South Bay Mayhem
Chapter 4 – Watchers
Chapter 5 – Police Visit
Chapter 6 – Park Rules
Chapter 7 - Frank and Jane Call
Chapter 8 – Rocketship Park
Chapter 9 – Crossbow
Chapter 10 – Paseo Del Mar
Chapter 11 – Cameras
Chapter 12 – Liberty and Tyranny
Chapter 13 – Pick Up
Chapter 14 – Boulders
Chapter 15 – Warning
Chapter 16 – Enemies Foreign and Domestic
Chapter 17 – World at War
Cast of Characters
Copyright - About the Author
Chapter 1 – Dulzura Full-Timers
“You coming, Sarah?” John asked, standing by the doorway of the motor home.
“I don’t want to go,” said Sarah, a woman in her early 60s. She walked out of the bedroom. “Can’t you go by yourself?”
“I hate going alone,” he said, watching her, disappointment in his eyes. He was nearly seventy, still a tall, strong man, but the deep lines in his face showed the pain of a long hard life.
“Why? What’s the problem?” She sat in the dinette with a glass of water. John studied her, still attractive for her age with her rusty hair and trim figure.
“Half the time my friends don’t show up, and then I sit there like a bump on a log.”
“You should make new friends anyway,” Sarah said. “You don’t need me there for protection.”
“Why don’t you want to go?”
“You’ll get drunk if your friends show up, and then I’ll have to listen to you get sloppy,” she said. “You know how I hate that.”
“I don’t get drunk that often,” he said sharply.
“No, you don’t, but you almost always do at these damn park barbecues,” she said.
“What if I promise not to?”
She sighed and got up. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll go with you, and if your friends don’t show up I’ll stick around. We’ll try to meet some new people there.”
“There’s a but coming,” John said.
“If your friends are there, I’ll come up with an excuse to leave early,” she said. “Deal?”
John shook his head. “I guess that’s the best I’ll get. Deal.”
“Good, then I’ll go get dressed.” She walked into the bedroom again. John looked out the front windshield. The Dulzura RV Park was nearly full. Unusual. Most of the people at the RV Park were retirees who lived there full time, enjoying the rural area just north of the Mexican border. There were always a few coaches passing through, but it was rare that all twenty of the non-residential sites were full. Maybe there’s a festival going on nearby. He pulled down the shades in front of the windshield and plopped into the recliner by the door.
Sarah came out, dressed in an attractive blouse and pants. “Ready?”
John got up. “You look lovely.”
“Thanks.” She smiled. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
“Yeah, for an old guy,” he said as he opened the door. He waited for Sarah to walk down the steps and closed the door behind him. They walked through the tight rows of coaches towards the clubhouse, the smell of barbecue drifting towards them.
“My, there are so many people here,” Sarah said, looking around.
“I know,” John said. “Noticed that when I was looking out the windshield earlier. Is there a festival this weekend?”
“Not that I’ve heard,” she said. They entered the clubhouse. Several of John’s friends were sitting in the back, having an intense discussion as they watched the TV screen next to the stage.
“Looks like Clem, Harry, and Sid are here,” John said, almost sounding disappointed. “Can I make a new deal?”
She shrugged. “Let’s have it.”
“Will you stick around if I don’t drink?”
“You won’t drink at all? No beers? No shots?”
“I promise. I’ll drink coke instead.”
She looked him in the eye for a long moment, then sighed. “Okay, deal.”
They walked to the cooler. John reached in for a can of coke. “Want one?”
“Sure,” Sarah said. They took their wet, icy cans and sat at the table.
“John and Sarah,” said the grinning old man sitting in the center of the bench. “Glad you could make it.”
“Thanks, Clem,” John said.
“Not drinking, eh?” he asked, grinning wider, a few teeth missing. His scraggly white hair made him look even older than his 75 years.
“Thought I’d lay off tonight,” John said.
“Sarah, you’re looking lovely, as usual,” Sid said, his longish jet-black hair partially covering a wrinkled face.
“He’s had too much fire water,” Harry cracked. He was a heavy-set bald man in his late sixties with a mischievous smile.
“That’s racist,” Sid said with half a frown. Everybody at the table laughed.
“Where are your wives?” Sarah asked.
“Oh, they’ll be back,” Harry said. “Our conversation was scaring them a little, I think.”
“What conversation?” Sarah asked.
“We were talking to a couple from San Diego this morning,” Sid said. “Hank and Linda. They were spewing all kinds of BS.”
“What kind of BS?” John asked.
“They told us we should pull up stakes and vamoose,” Sid said. “Said things were gonna get crazy in California, and we’d be nuts to stay.”
“Where are they?” Sarah asked. “They gonna be here?”
“No, they were just overnighting. Left already, headed for Quartzsite.”
“So what’d they say?” John asked.
“They were living in one of those high-rise condos on Mission Bay,” Harry said. “Things were happening there all of a sudden.”
“What kinds of things?” Sarah asked. “Do I have to pull every sentence out of you guys? I won’t get scared.”
Harry and Clem looked at each other. Sid shook his head, looking tired of the conversation.
“Lots of people coming over the border,” Harry said. “Hank said they looked different. He said they looked like soldiers, not the usual peasants.”
“He said the usual wetbacks,” Sid said. “That guy was a jerk.”
“I was trying not to repeat that,” Harry said. “Anyway, he also said he heard some of them speaking Arabic.”
John laughed. “Oh, please. One of those, eh?”
“That’s what I thought at first,” Clem said. “There was something really strange about those two.”
“What do you mean?” Sarah asked.
“Linda, the wife,” Clem said. “She looked totally shell-shocked. Right on the verge of a breakdown. She finally went into their coach to get away from the conversation.”
“Maybe she was sick of her husband’s BS,” John said.
“That’s not the vibe I got,” Clem said, a grim look on his face. “She clung to him as if he was her only protector during most of the conversation. Only left when she got too scared. There was no contempt or embarrassment there. She looked like she worshiped this guy, and believed everything he was saying.”
“I thought she looked depressed, or maybe tipping into dementia,” Harry said. “Hank acted over-protective too, as one would act with a spouse that was sick.”
“What was the gist of this guy’s story?” John asked.
“Basically, that there’s an invasion coming, and that pe
ople better get away from the border,” Sid said. “Sounded like a story from one of those survivalist web sites.”
Two women walked over, both in their mid-sixties. One had silver hair and a little too much makeup, smartly dressed. The other had dark hair, braided, with a younger look to her. Sid stood up and took the hand of the dark-haired woman.
“Yvonne,” he said, pulling her next to him.
“Are you guys done with that stupid conversation?” She sat next to him.
“Just about,” he said. “We were filling in John and Sarah.”
“Oh,” Yvonne said. “Hi, guys.”
“Hi,” Sarah said. John nodded.
The other woman sat next to Harry, settling close to him.
“Hey, honey,” Harry said. “Glad you’re back.”
“You sure you’re done talking about that idiot?” she asked. He nodded.
“Hi, Nancy,” Sarah said.
“John’s not drinking tonight?” she asked.
“Nope,” Sarah said.
“Good,” Nancy said. John shot her a glance, a thin smile on his face. He put his hand on Sarah’s thigh and kissed her on the cheek.
“You guys see all the extra coaches?” John asked.
“Yeah, kinda weird,” Yvonne said. “Wonder what’s going on?”
“We were wondering the same thing,” Sarah said.
“Maybe a new festival?” Nancy asked. “If so I’d like to go, depending on what it is. This place is a tad too isolated.”
“I thought you loved living here,” Harry said.
“Oh, I do, sweetie, but it’s still nice to hit the town every once in a while,” she said.
“Hey, look at the TV screen!” Sid said, pointing.
“My God, is that an airliner?” Clem asked. Video of a burning plane lying on the end of a runway showed on the screen, fire fighters hitting it with foam.
“Turn that up,” Sarah said. John grabbed the remote off the corner of the stage and turned up the volume.
“The FAA has not confirmed that this plane was shot down as it was attempting takeoff, but eyewitness accounts say a rocket flashed up and hit its left wing, bringing the plane to the ground, where it exploded into flames. The FAA has confirmed that nobody survived the incident.”
“What airport is that?” Yvonne asked.
“Look at the banner under the video,” Sid said. “Lindbergh Field, San Diego.”
***
Robbie Johnson sat at his laptop while the microwave zapped dinner, his large, trim frame hunched over too far to be comfortable, longish sable brown hair hanging over both sides of his face. He was angrily typing a message on yet another conspiracy message board, missing letters and slamming the backspace key to fix them on the fly. It was getting too dark. He reached over and switched on his desk lamp. There was a loud knock on the door.
“Dammit,” he said, getting up and rushing to the window. His friend Gil was standing next to the door with a Winchester 30-30 rifle in his hands, looking around nervously. Robbie opened the door and he slipped in quickly.
“Are you nuts?” Robbie asked him. “You can’t carry rifles around, man. The cops will lock you up.”
“What cops?” Gil said, setting the rifle down next to the door. He dropped onto the couch, wiping sweat off his forehead and pushing his black hair back on his head. “Cops are afraid now, man. They’re staying out of the way.”
“Well then, one of those gang-bangers is gonna take that rifle away from you and shove it up your ass,” Robbie told him. The microwave dinged. “There’s my dinner.”
“Go ahead,” he said. “Don’t mind me. I already ate.”
“I wasn’t going to,” Robbie said as he walked into the kitchen of the tiny studio apartment.
“Got any beer?”
“Yeah, help yourself,” Robbie said. “But only one or two. I don’t want you firing that damn lever gun off in here.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Gil said, getting up. “Heard from Justin?”
“Yeah, he’s coming over when he gets off work,” Robbie said as he grabbed his meal out of the microwave. “Hand me one of those brews.”
Gil nodded and passed him a beer, then opened his. He glanced at the screen of the laptop. “You messing with the nutcases again?”
Robbie laughed. “People got some strange-ass ideas out there.”
There was the pop of gunfire in the distance.
“Dammit,” Gil said. “It’s getting closer. Gardena got real bad last night, dude. So did Carson.”
“North Torrance isn’t Gardena,” Robbie said.
“Maybe we should split for a while,” Gil said.
“Some of us have jobs. You know; we earn money at them.”
“Shut up,” Gil said. “I’ll be back to work pretty soon.”
“You don’t seem to be in much of a hurry,” Robbie said. There was a knock on the door. “That’s probably Justin.”
“I’ll go check it out,” Gil said, walking to the window. He glanced out and then opened the door.
“Hey, Justin,” Robbie said.
“Hey, guys,” he said. Justin was a tall skinny blonde with a crooked smile and muscular arms. He had a paper bag in his hands.
“What’s that?” Gil asked.
“Chips, salsa, and beer,” he said. “Breakfast of champions.”
“Oh, brother,” Robbie said.
“Crap, what’s Gil’s pea-shooter doing over here?” Justin asked.
“I didn’t feel safe,” Gil said. “So sue me.”
“If the cops see you with that they’ll run you in,” Justin said, taking the bag to the kitchen counter. He emptied the contents, putting the beers in the fridge with the salsa. “Mind if I have one of yours while these get cold?”
“Help yourself,” Robbie said.
There was the sound of a window breaking outside, and a woman screamed.
“Uh oh,” Gil said, walking towards his gun. “ That wasn’t in Gardena.”
“No, it wasn’t,” Robbie said, rushing to the back window. “I can’t see that far down.”
Shouting drifted up towards them, and another scream. More breaking glass.
“We should clear out of here,” Gil said.
Robbie looked at him, then over at Justin. “And where do you suggest we go?”
“West,” Gil said. “The trouble is all east and north.”
There was a frantic knock at the door. “Guys, let me in.”
“That’s Steve,” Robbie said. “Open the door.”
Gill opened it and a red-haired young man rushed in, bowie knife in his hand.
“You okay?” Robbie asked as he watched him slam the door and put the night lock on.
“No,” he said. “I got chased down the street, and now there’s some gang-bangers messing with my car. If I didn’t have my knife under the seat, I’d probably be toast.”
“What are you doing here, anyway?” Robbie asked. “I thought you were working tonight.”
“They shut down,” Steve said, trying to catch his breath. “We can’t stay here. There’s a frigging mob on its way into the neighborhood. We better leave now.”
“Told you, man,” Justin said. “That lever gun loaded?”
“Hell yeah,” Gil said. “Seven rounds. Got more in my pocket.”
There was a crash outside, and the whoosh of a fire starting. “What the hell was that?” Steve asked.
Robbie looked out the back window again. “Somebody torched a car, I suspect. That’s a big flame. Lighting the whole sky down there.”
“Let’s go to your folks house,” Gil said. “They might be far enough west.”
“North Redondo,” Robbie said. “Maybe. I’ll call them.” He punched their land line into his cellphone and put it to his ear. After waiting a few moments, he spoke. “Mom, Dad, this is Robbie. We have to leave our apartment. It’s getting bad here. We’re coming over there. Call me.”
“Not home?” Gil asked.
“Well, not an
swering anyway. I’ll try my dad’s cellphone.” He hit the contact and waited a few moments, then ended the call and put the phone in his pocket. “No answer. Let’s go. Want to take my car?”
“I’m not leaving mine here,” Gil said.
“Me neither,” Justin said.
“I don’t want to leave mine,” Steve said, “but those gang bangers were surrounding it, and its way down the street. Can I ride with you, man?”
Robbie nodded yes. “Let’s take the beer and the food with us.” He shut down his laptop, and then grabbed some grocery bags from the pantry and loaded the food and beer.
“Good idea,” Justin said. He helped.
“Where’s your car?” Gil asked. “In the garage?”
“Yeah,” Robbie said. “Where’s yours?”
“In the guest spot,” Gil said.
“Mine’s right in front of your building,” Justin said.
Robbie put his laptop into the case. “Grab one of the food bags, Steve. The rest of you go downstairs. I’ll meet you there. You all know how to get to my folk’s house, right?”
“Yeah, it’s off Artesia,” Gil said.
“I remember,” Justin said.
“Let’s try to stay together,” Robbie said. “Just pull into the driveway after me.”
“Okay, man,” Gil said. He picked up his rifle and opened the door, peering out. “Coast is clear.”
“Good,” Robbie said, picking up the laptop case. Steve picked up the bags of food, and they all slipped out the door. Robbie stopped to lock it up, and then they rushed along the second story walkway and down to the driveway and the garages below, shadowy in the dim light of the street lamps.
“I’ll keep watch while you pull out,” Gil said, his rifle at the ready. He stood just out of sight of the street, at the front edge of the building.
“Yeah, I’ll keep watch too,” Justin said, watching as the garage door opened.
Robbie and Steve threw the bags and the laptop into the trunk and got into the car. They backed out and headed down the driveway.
“Oh, crap,” Steve said. Gil was in the middle of the driveway, aiming the rifle down Yukon Street to the left. Robbie pulled out far enough to see a mob of about twenty young men standing, watching Gil.
“Better stop, ese,” one of the gang members shouted, moving forward.
“Get back, dude,” Gil said. “I mean it.”
