Creeping Tyranny

by Robert Boren

  “Let’s get him,” another of the gang said. “He won’t really shoot. Look at him shaking.”

  Gil pulled the trigger, aiming a little high, the blast from the 30-30 echoing between the apartment buildings. The gang members ran away.

  “C’mon, let’s go before they come back,” Justin shouted.

  “Hey, they left my car,” Steve said. “I’m gonna go get it.”

  “Okay, but hurry,” Robbie said. “I’ll wait until you get it started, just in case.” Steve sprinted left down Yukon to his car and got in. He started it and drove up to Robbie’s building.

  “Let’s go!” Robbie said. He turned right onto Yukon and punched it.

  Gil nodded and jumped into his car, turning right onto the street. Justin followed, then Steve.

  Robbie turned right on 168th Street, then left on Ainsworth, taking that to Artesia. Gunfire erupted to the east as he waited at the stop sign to turn west. He could see fires burning along Artesia to the east. Westbound traffic was heavy. He took the right turn, the others following him through, just in front of another clump of cars. They went under the 405 Freeway and crossed Prairie. There were crowds of people ahead, surrounding the intersection at Hawthorne Blvd.

  Robbie’s phone rang. He answered it.

  “Yeah, Steve?”

  “Just got a text from my sister. She said to stay away from the Galleria.”

  “I see, bunch of people flooding onto Hawthorne from the parking lot. Follow me. We’ll make a U-turn and take Prairie to 190th Street.”

  “Got it,” Steve said.

  He set his phone down and made the U-turn, then made a right on Prairie and gunned it. He passed 182nd and was nearing 190th when he saw another gang, hanging out in the big park to the left. One of the gang members pointed at them, and then rocks and bottles flew. Don’t stop. He made a fast right turn against the light, oncoming traffic honking as he floored his small Honda. He checked the rear-view mirror and saw his friends getting through their turn. They raced west until they were stopped at the big intersection with Hawthorne.

  Robbie’s phone rang again.

  “Yeah, Steve?”

  “Some jerk broke my passenger side window back there,” he said, sounding out of breath. “We aren’t gonna turn right on Inglewood Avenue, are we?”

  “No, let’s go all the way to Rindge,” Robbie said. “Inglewood’s too close to the Galleria.”

  “Good,” he said. “Think your folk’s place is far enough away?”

  “No,” Robbie said. “But any port in the storm tonight. It’s defendable.”

  The light changed. Robbie ended the call and drove forward, feeling better as soon as he got across.

  They made all the lights on the way down to Rindge Lane and turned right, entering dense middle-class housing with its one-way streets, numerous stop signs, and tight parking. It was quiet and peaceful in there, but nobody had their porch lights on. It took several minutes to get through all the stop signs to Grant Avenue. They waited for the light, then drove across, making a right turn on the second one-way street and following it down through more stop signs. The condo was several blocks down on the right. Robbie turned into the long driveway, going past the garage doors of the front and middle units. He stopped. His friends pulled in behind him, Steve hanging slightly into the street.

  “I’m gonna check to see if they’re home,” Robbie said. “If they aren’t, I’ll pull this in the garage, and you guys can pull-in far enough to be out of the way of the other garages.”

  “Sound’s good,” Gil said.

  “Hurry, my ass is hanging out,” Steve said.

  Robbie nodded, unlocked the front door, and went inside. It was quiet. Lucy, his parent’s Jack Russell Terrier wasn’t there. Neither was Mr. Wonderful the cat. He raced down the hall to the garage door and unlocked the bolt. The Jeep was missing. The garage door rolled up after he pressed the button on the door jamb. When it was up far enough he got into his Honda and drove it inside. The others pulled forward, taking the guest parking spot and the driveway past the middle unit’s garage.

  “They’re out of town,” Robbie said as he switched on the porch light.

  “Hey, stagger the cars in the driveway so people can’t run in here,” Steve said.

  “Good idea,” Robbie said. Steve and Gil adjusted their cars. Justin pulled his car up further in the guest parking space to prevent somebody from opening the gate into the tiny backyard. They met inside the garage.

  “How do you know they’re out of town?” Gil asked.

  “The dog and the cat are both gone,” he said. “They’ve probably gone to the motor home. They took the Jeep Liberty. And look at the back door there.”

  Steve walked to the back of the garage as Robbie closed the main door. “Holy crap. Nobody’s coming through there. Not even with one of those cop battering rams.” He pointed to the four-by-four wedged between the work bench and the door.

  “Simple but effective,” Gil said, laughing.

  “I’ll help you with your stuff,” Justin said.

  “Me too,” Steve said. Robbie nodded and opened the trunk. They picked up the bags and the laptop and left the garage, going down the hallway to the stairs by the front door. Robbie hit the lights and they walked up into the living area.

  “We might not want to hang out here too long,” Gil said, clutching his rifle as he looked out the sliding glass door to the balcony. “Your folks split for a reason, dude.”

  “Yeah, probably,” Robbie said, staring up at the wall. “That’s new.” He pointed to a video camera.

  “There was one in the garage, too,” Steve said. “And outside, pointing at the front door.”

  Robbie laughed. “Didn’t even notice. Let’s get the food and beer in the fridge, and check things out. I’ll bet I can access those cameras from my dad’s PC.”

  Chapter 2 – The Range

  “Trevor, you ready yet?” Seth asked. “It’s a long drive.” He was standing next to his late-model Toyota Four-Runner as the sun came up. He was just twenty-one, dark brown hair and eyebrows, medium build. He had an innocent look, with a clean complexion and a delicate mouth and nose, finished off by striking steel-gray eyes.

  “Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Trevor said, rushing out to the Four-Runner with his rifle case and a metal ammo box. “We got plenty of time.” He opened the rear gate and placed his rifle next to Seth’s, then shut it and went to the passenger side door, slipping his stout frame inside. Trevor was a redhead with freckles and mealy features. He wasn’t handsome like Seth, but he made up for it with a witty and forceful personality and an athletic build. “Who else is going?”

  “Angel and Matt,” Seth said. “Maybe Matt’s younger brother.” He pulled away from the curve, driving down the tree-lined south Torrance street.

  “I’m anxious to try out the new lever-guns,” Trevor said as they pulled away.

  “You sure they’ll let us on the combat range this time?”

  “Yeah, already made reservations. These guns are okay since they shoot pistol rounds,” Trevor said. “They didn’t want us to beat the hell out of their targets with 30-30 rounds when we asked before.”

  “I think that’s a load of crap. They used to allow .223s on there, before the idiots in Sacramento passed the assault weapons ban.”

  “Well, a 30-30 carries a lot more punch in short range than a .223,” Trevor said. “It’s all about the weight of the bullet for short range. That’s why the inside range wouldn’t allow them. The owner told me that rifle rounds chew up his sheet metal back-stop too much.”

  “Look what we’ve come to in this damn state,” Seth said. “Can’t have guns that look like military weapons, so we have to go back to frigging nineteenth century lever-action rifles.”

  “It’s not so bad,” Trevor said.

  “What, the dweebs in Sacramento? Seriously?”

  “No, no, I meant the lever-action rifles,” Trevor said. “Was reading an article about usin
g them for urban warfare. They’ve got some serious advantages.”

  “Like what?” Seth asked.

  “Weight and general handiness,” Trevor said. “Hell, the .44 mag Winchester I just bought is way lighter than an M4. That means it’s faster to bring to aim. It’s also harder to jamb, can fire at a high rate for a non-autoloader, and it has a ten-round magazine.”

  “They take too long to load,” Seth said.

  “Yes, it takes more time to shove rounds through that side loading gate one at a time, that’s true. But there are a couple of advantages there too, you know.”

  “Like what?” Seth asked.

  “Well, for one thing, you can easily top them off, unlike the magazine on an M-4. Use five rounds and have a few seconds? Shove five more rounds in. On a Winchester, you can even shove a round into the chamber through the top when it’s open. Remember that you have to carry all those clips with an auto-loader, and they take a long time to put cartridges in. With my Winchester, all I have to carry is the ammo.”

  “Yeah, okay, you’ve got a point,” Seth said, “but at the end of the day, no modern army uses lever-action rifles.”

  “Oh, I didn’t say they were my first choice,” Trevor said, “but they can work out, and you can get really good with them after some practice.”

  Seth shook his head and pulled over in front of a big split-level house. Angel’s smiling face greeted them as he waited on the sidewalk. He was slightly pudgy, with a round face and piercing eyes, medium length black hair hanging down almost to his eyes in the front. He went to the tail gate, opened it, and put his rifle and ammo in, then came around to the rear passenger side door.

  “Hey, Angel,” Seth said.

  “How’s it goin’?” he asked. “You guys are late.”

  “Only a little,” Trevor said. “My fault.”

  “No problem,” Angel said. “We’d just be waiting for Matt if you would’ve been on time.”

  “Well, there is that,” Seth said. He looked back at Angel and snickered. “He bringing his little brother?”

  “Nah, not this time,” Angel said. “You guys get to fire these things yet?”

  “No, been at work late every night this week,” Seth said. “Hope I like the feel.”

  “I took mine to the indoor range and fired off a box of ammo,” Trevor said. “Nice, but since it’s so light, it kicks pretty hard.”

  “Well, I didn’t have time,” Angel said. “My dad needed me to help out with one of the apartments. The last tenants really trashed the place. They took the damn toilet, too. We walk into the bathroom and there’s just a hole in the floor.”

  Trevor cracked up. “People are pigs.”

  “Seriously,” Angel said. “You should have seen the back door. They put peanut butter on the screen of the Bellaire window. I had to use a toothpick to get it out.”

  Trevor laughed again, looking at Seth, who snickered.

  “It’s not funny, man,” Angel said. “That was a pain in the ass.”

  “Why’d they do that, anyway?” Seth asked.

  “My dad asked them to pay rent,” Angel said.

  “Geez, remind me never to be a landlord,” Seth said.

  “It’s worth it. Most of the time your tenants aren’t assholes.”

  Seth pulled into the driveway of a mid-century one-story house and honked the horn. A young man with long blond hair and a thick blonde beard rushed out with rifle and ammo box in hand, big grin on his face. He got into the rear driver’s seat and slipped the rifle and ammo in the back. “Hey, losers,” he said. “Mind if I smoke?”

  “Yeah, what the hell,” Seth said. “You’re going to anyway.”

  Matt chuckled and opened his window a crack.

  “You don’t look so good,” Angel said, giving him a sidelong glance.

  “Got slammed with my uncle last night,” he said, cigarette moving in his mouth. He lit it up. “Damn gin knocks me for a loop.”

  Angel laughed. “Again?”

  “Yeah,” Matt said. He took a big drag, and blew the smoke out his window. “Good thing I was with him. He wanted to go to that dive bar in Downtown Torrance to pick up some chick. I took his keys away. Man, was he pissed.”

  “Why does your mom put up with that guy?” Trevor asked. “He’s got to be putting a bottle of gin away every day.”

  “He is,” Matt said, taking another drag on his cigarette. “It’s gonna kill him. My dad knows it, too. Only a matter of time. He told my mom he’d leave if she kicked Uncle Ned out.”

  “Would he?” Angel asked.

  “I doubt it, but mom thinks he might,” Matt said. “Ned supported the whole family after grandpa died. Raised my dad when grandma couldn’t cope. My dad thinks he owes him.”

  “He probably does,” Seth said. “I like the guy.”

  “I love him, but I wish he’d slow down on the boozing a little. We’ve got problems with addiction in my family. I look at him and it scares me.”

  “You think you’re gonna have problems like that?” Angel asked.

  “If I’m not careful,” Matt said. “Kaylee’s been bugging me about it. Made me promise that I’d only drink on the weekends.”

  Seth laughed. “Thursday night ain’t the weekend.”

  “What are you laughing about?” Matt said. “You made the same promise to Emma. We both know how well that’s been going.”

  Seth laughed again. “I know, look at us. Under the thumb of our women, and we ain’t even married yet.”

  They all laughed as Seth got onto the freeway, heading for the Inland Empire.

  “Hey Matt, I heard you had a little problem with Nathan,” Trevor said, glancing back at him.

  Matt laughed as he flipped his cigarette butt out the window. “Yeah, he got pissed, but he’ll cool down.”

  “What happened this time?” Angel asked.

  “Zoe,” he said, twinkle in his eye. “I kinda blew it.”

  “Wait, that’s the chick that you guys met at the coffee shop, right?” Trevor asked.

  “Yeah, her and Megan,” Matt said. “Megan’s pretty hot, but she has a boyfriend. Zoe not so much. She looks okay if she dresses right, but she’s dull looking. Dull to hang around with, too.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Seth said. “I think she’s kinda cute.”

  “Nathan likes her, but he’s never had a girlfriend. He doesn’t know how to handle her, and she’s losing interest fast.”

  “So we all know you nailed her,” Angel said. “Where and how?”

  “I wasn’t planning on it,” Matt said. “She needed a ride home because Megan flaked out on her. Her apartment is on the way to my place, so I took her. She wanted to talk, so we parked in that vacant lot off of 235th Street. One thing led to another.”

  Angel laughed. “You’re a horn dog. How’d Nathan find out?”

  “The bitch told him,” Matt said. “She’s not too bright.”

  “Aren’t you afraid she’ll tell Kaylee?” Seth asked.

  “She doesn’t know Kaylee, and I’m gonna keep it that way,” Matt said.

  “Enough of this crap,” Trevor said. “What do you guys think about this scary stuff going on down at the border?”

  “What, you mean the plane crash?” Seth asked.

  “That wasn’t a crash,” Trevor said. “It was shot down. It’s all over the web.”

  Seth chuckled. “The news media changed that story, remember? They said it was a hoax. The plane went down due to a mechanical problem.”

  “And you believe that?” Trevor asked.

  “You guys ain’t gonna talk politics again, are you?” Matt asked. “I’d rather talk about chicks and guns.”

  “And drinking,” Angel said.

  Matt laughed. “So sue me.”

  “No, really, there’s something going on down there,” Trevor said. “Unusual people are showing up. Crossing the border on its entire length, from Yuma to San Diego.”

  “Yuma is in Arizona,” Seth said.

 
“It’s right on the border,” Trevor said.

  “So what’s unusual about them?” Angel asked, “and no comments about wetbacks, you assholes.”

  “They look unusual, and some people have overheard them speaking Arabic,” Trevor said.

  “Bullshit,” Matt said. “That’s conspiracy theory garbage. You need to stay off of those tin-foil hat message boards. Next you’re gonna tell me that we didn’t really land on the moon.”

  “That’s a whole other subject,” Trevor said. Seth turned towards him and snickered, rolling his eyes.

  “My granddad worked on the moon launch,” he said. “He knew some of the guys in Houston. It wasn’t fake. That’s just garbage.”

  Angel got a goofy smile on his face. “So Trevor, how do you feel about Nessie? Bigfoot? Spontaneous combustion? Area 51?”

  “Ha ha ha,” Trevor said. “There’s more to things than meets the eye sometimes.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t mention Chupacabra,” Matt said.

  Angel laughed and punched him in the upper arm. “That’s racist, man.”

  Seth laughed, looking over at Trevor, who couldn’t resist laughing himself.

  “All right, you’ve had your fun,” Trevor said, “but I’ll tell you something. Combat shooting isn’t such a bad thing to know. What if we have an invasion coming?”

  “The army will take care of it,” Seth said.

  “After all the cutbacks, the Army isn’t what it once was,” Trevor said. “You know this Administration.”

  Matt rolled his eyes. “Here we go again.”

  “No, really, man,” Trevor said. “We might have to rely on ourselves.”

  “Then we’re in deep yogurt,” Seth said.

  They continued the banter for the next hour, finally making it to the huge outdoor range, nestled against the hills in Grande Terrace.

  “C’mon, guys, let’s go,” Seth said. “Our reservation was for five minutes ago.”

  “Coming,” Trevor said. The others stepped it up, and they hurried to the office, lining up at the front desk.

  “Reservations for the combat range,” Seth said.

  “Name?” asked the gruff old man behind the counter. He looked like an ex-cop.