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Monday, January 30, 2012
IF YOU DRINK AND DRIVE... WE'LL LOCK YOU UP IN SOLITARY: NO COURT DATE, NO LAWYER, NO DOCTOR!
If you drink and drive... we'll lock you in solitary confinement for 2 years! No court date, no doctor.
http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/night-in-the-cells-accidentally-became-two-years-in-solitary-6295937.html
Night in the cells accidentally became two years in solitary
Suspected drunk driver wins $22m after he was forgotten, isolated – and terribly neglected
Guy Adams Author Biography
Los Angeles
Saturday 28 January 2012
Stephen Slevin at the time of his arrest for drink driving in August 2005, left, and when he was released in May 2007, right
Stephen Slevin was driving along a rural highway in southern New Mexico in August 2005 when traffic police pulled him over and arrested him on suspicion of drink-driving, along with a string of other motoring offences.
By the time all of the charges against him were dismissed and Mr Slevin was released from custody, it was 2007. For reasons that remain unclear, officials had forced him to spend the intervening two years in solitary confinement.
During the ordeal, he claims to have been denied access to basic washing facilities for months at a time. He'd lost a third of his body weight, grown a beard down to his chest and was suffering from bed sores. Prison officials had also ignored his pleas to see a dentist, forcing him to pull out his own tooth. They declined other requests for attention, including an audience with a mental health professional. He duly became delirious and says that by the time of his release he'd "been driven mad".
This week, a jury in Albuquerque ordered Dona Ana County, which was responsible for incarcerating Slevin without trial, to pay $22m (£14m) in compensation. It was the largest award ever granted to a US prisoner whose civil rights have been violated.
"Prison officials were walking by me every day, watching me deteriorate," Mr Slevin, who still from suffers post traumatic stress disorder, told reporters. The court heard how he was originally arrested on suspicion of drink-driving and "receiving a stolen vehicle". He was thrown into solitary confinement after officers learned that he suffered from depression and decided he might be suicidal.
Matthew Coyte, a civil-rights lawyer who represented Mr Slevin, now 58, during the six-day trial, said he was then "forgotten" and left to "decay".
In letters to staff at Dona Ana County Jail, Mr Slevin claimed to be depressed and unable to sleep in the solitary "pod" there. As time went on, he told them he'd begun hallucinating. No doctor was called, but at the behest of a prison nurse, who had a bachelor's degree in psychology but no medical qualifications, he was given some sedatives. It wasn't until June 2007 that Mr Slevin went before a judge, at which point he was immediately released into the mental health system on the grounds that he was by then incapable of participating in his own defence.
The case throws an uncomfortable light on the use of solitary confinement in the US justice system. At present, an estimated 50,000 inmates are housed in such circumstances, sometimes for years at a time. Dona Ana County had previously offered Mr Slevin $2m to drop his compensation case. It pledged to appeal the $22m award, saying: "we believe we have strong legal issues to raise."
http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/americas/night-in-the-cells-accidentally-became-two-years-in-solitary-6295937.html
Night in the cells accidentally became two years in solitary
Suspected drunk driver wins $22m after he was forgotten, isolated – and terribly neglected
Guy Adams Author Biography
Los Angeles
Saturday 28 January 2012
Stephen Slevin at the time of his arrest for drink driving in August 2005, left, and when he was released in May 2007, right
Stephen Slevin was driving along a rural highway in southern New Mexico in August 2005 when traffic police pulled him over and arrested him on suspicion of drink-driving, along with a string of other motoring offences.
By the time all of the charges against him were dismissed and Mr Slevin was released from custody, it was 2007. For reasons that remain unclear, officials had forced him to spend the intervening two years in solitary confinement.
During the ordeal, he claims to have been denied access to basic washing facilities for months at a time. He'd lost a third of his body weight, grown a beard down to his chest and was suffering from bed sores. Prison officials had also ignored his pleas to see a dentist, forcing him to pull out his own tooth. They declined other requests for attention, including an audience with a mental health professional. He duly became delirious and says that by the time of his release he'd "been driven mad".
This week, a jury in Albuquerque ordered Dona Ana County, which was responsible for incarcerating Slevin without trial, to pay $22m (£14m) in compensation. It was the largest award ever granted to a US prisoner whose civil rights have been violated.
"Prison officials were walking by me every day, watching me deteriorate," Mr Slevin, who still from suffers post traumatic stress disorder, told reporters. The court heard how he was originally arrested on suspicion of drink-driving and "receiving a stolen vehicle". He was thrown into solitary confinement after officers learned that he suffered from depression and decided he might be suicidal.
Matthew Coyte, a civil-rights lawyer who represented Mr Slevin, now 58, during the six-day trial, said he was then "forgotten" and left to "decay".
In letters to staff at Dona Ana County Jail, Mr Slevin claimed to be depressed and unable to sleep in the solitary "pod" there. As time went on, he told them he'd begun hallucinating. No doctor was called, but at the behest of a prison nurse, who had a bachelor's degree in psychology but no medical qualifications, he was given some sedatives. It wasn't until June 2007 that Mr Slevin went before a judge, at which point he was immediately released into the mental health system on the grounds that he was by then incapable of participating in his own defence.
The case throws an uncomfortable light on the use of solitary confinement in the US justice system. At present, an estimated 50,000 inmates are housed in such circumstances, sometimes for years at a time. Dona Ana County had previously offered Mr Slevin $2m to drop his compensation case. It pledged to appeal the $22m award, saying: "we believe we have strong legal issues to raise."
PURSUIT: The continuation of The Future of Warfare
PURSUIT
The continuation of The Future of Warfare
J. Croft
RURAL GEAUGA COUNTY
March 20, 2014
Kayla Miller
cruises steady, cooly, in her brand new-to her-Chardon Police Department
Cruiser. The 90’s era Crown Victoria’s
V8 thrums with power on tap, its interior consoles jammed with speed radars,
automated license plate scanners, a scanner-none of which were working, which
only baffled Kayla for a second before remembering the nets, radio, television…
all down.
That’s why the
sky’s not filled with all the motherfucking drones the enemy’s produced over
the past few years in anticipation of this war.
At least that was what Dad said-wasn’t the first time he was proven
right…
Mind on the
mission. That’ll keep the memories of
her dead friends, loved ones, comrades-in-arms at bay. Has to if she’s going to get job done.
Inventory: one underfed 5’6” girl… hell, grown ass
woman… with a gunshot wound clean through her left shoulder like an ice pick
that’s hurting like all hell. Well, she
was a right hand shooter anyway and used whatever rest for the rifle
anyway. Yeah… brand new-to her-M14
sniper rifle with suppressor and scoped… mil-dots. Have to replace the scope first thing, can’t
stand having to do math to calculate where to hold some motherfucker on
whatever dot. Slowed her down, but at
least the centered dot was on at about 200 yards, so she’ll deal. Got her sweet Sig-Saur off that dead pig as
well, and a loaded pistol is always a comfort.
Got a G18 full auto suppressed Glock with some extended mags-holy shit
that’s going to be useful as a motherfucker…
…From the
motherfucking Terminator who murdered Chris Bernard. God that hurt… shit.
…Yeah, too
bad Chris isn’t around to help with his drone design neither. His plans will have to do.
Got Dave
Getz’s M240 with four belts of 7.62x51.
Got plenty of that caliber in the magazines but those are sniper loads
she was certain an’ all that belted stuff was ball and armor piercing. Damn that thing’s heavy-no WAY she could hump
that! Dave was a big dude-in fact that
MG came with him when he turned on his platoon doing a sweep through Warren. Always good to have dude around, and not for
just his ability with the MG though he was about a Picasso with the thing when
raid teams bunched up. Dude was another
of the Best Kayla herself and the Cause in general lost. Lost to fucking pigs in black who like to
fuck with anyone weaker-physically-than they, lost to 300lb fatties in air
conditioned drone control rooms. No
doubt with a twinkie in one hand and a all-too deft hand on the joystick,
murdering their fellow Americans from hundreds, thousands of miles away. Cowards.
Naw, they
lost the right to be called Americans when they raised their hand against their
own. Speaking of which, she thanked that
Chardon piglet with her new Glock-which has a suppressor as well-for his
contribution to the war effort; his M4 carbine, ammo, and this cop car which is
getting her through enemy lines with the easiest of ease with the lights flashing
and whatnot.
Kayla looks
forward. Definetly out of the official
Chardon town limits but these days those were formalities not even looked at…
so long as she wasn’t rolling in the sausage wagon in say, C-Town. Hickbilly cop car there might set off some
alarms.
Hitchhiker-well,
that isn’t exactly a safe bet these days.
Not one bit safe in fact it was a sure bet to get scooped up and thrown
into a FEMA camp and God knows where else.
Whatever they were doing with millions of out of work, homeless,
starving Americans, it’s turned into something that Nazis back in the day could
point at and say “see ve ain’t so bad, are ve?”
Had enough
close calls there-that’s why her policy on contact with any government
officials is to fight to the last round.
That was for herself if she lost.
Been there and unfortunately done that.
Yep. Cruise on by that fool. Bye…
yeah she’s going to have to find another ride to get further down the
road… down the road where? Well, where
else but Chesterland? Man hope her
contact out this way’s still alive or she’s gonna have problems-like getting to
her alternate across the free-no, highway.
Nobody who sees what the enemy has done to the interstate highway system
would for a second call them “freeways”.
Another
hitchhiker?! What gives-is fucking
Geauga County full of fools or what? AND
THAT PARTICULAR FOOL’S STICKING HIS THUMB OUT TRYING TO GET A RIDE FROM A COP
CAR!
Kayla
laughs. How can you not? These times just make anyone quit, but quit
wasn’t in her. Won’t give the enemy the
pleasure-and bye there Loser number two… was he a twin?
Whatever: her priority’s to get to whatever contact is
around, get these plans to the rebels-yeah, just like Star Wars, an’ she’s
Princess Leia. And where the hell she
going to hide a Chardon cop wagon at?
Just have to find some foreclosed home that ain’t occupied and park this
piggie in the back.
Yeah, gonna
have to park it-oh what the hell, another fool with his thumb out for the
cops?!
Another
fool… looks just like-no, EXACTLY like those other two… oh no. No-she’s read about this, but this isn’t
happening. Speed past him. It’s the day-big ass bomb going off, chased
by a tank and a terminator looking spook, lost what’s left of her militia, last
of her family, now losing sanity just speed on by, bye bye, and look for a
place to ditch this and get a replacement… should’ve jacked a Geauga Sheriff
but them fools weren’t around.
There he
is. Again. Alright that’s fucking enough.
Kayla speeds
up, then screeches to a halt inches from the Fourth Hitchhiker… who was the
Third, Second, and First.
Kayla gets
out, M4 locked, loaded and ready to rip and let this be a mirage or whatever.
“Hey, what’s
it going to take to get a ride out here anyway, Officer?”
He can’t be
kidding. Yet there he is all fed and
smiling and happy an’ shit.
Unbelievable.
“Okay:
first, I’m no cop an’ don’t ever insult me like that again; second, you know
trying to hitch a ride with the po-lice is a one way trip to a FEMA detention
facility; third, you an’ yo’ brothers/twins/whatever-this a STUPID ASS way to
lure a cop into a ambush. You don’t have
four dudes spread out along the road, you have one an’ the rest y’all be out of
sight with rifles. Maybe have a dude or
two nearby if they ain’t got rifles to get to the punk ass cop quick an’ strip
him an’ take his ride. Cruise around,
flag down other traitors and shoot them in they face but they looks for that
now so that plan don’t work so good cept if they tired or brand new or just
fuckin’ stupid.” Kayla adjusted her jaw
and it crackles.
“Alright, I
get it. You weren’t expecting me”
Hitchhiker #4 holds up his hands-wrists got bullet holes neat through each of
them.
“Goddamn how
you get shot through each yo’ wrists like that an’… oh. Oh, no you ain’t…”
Kayla’s
energy just leaves her, the lightweight government issued M4 drops to the hood
of the cop car, she loses the power to make words, to even think.
Jesus
gingerly, slowly, walks over to the opposite side of the police cruiser, and as
Kayla Miller goes into mental shutdown he takes the M4 carbine out of her
hands, safes and slings it, then helps the girl into the passenger seat. He gets in the driver’s seat and gets going,
driving to Chesterland.
FEDERAL FUSION CENTER
Warren, Ohio
In the
command chamber at the heart of the converted office building, General Warburg
of the German Army on a joint NATO operation looks at the holographic display
of Northern Ohio:
*The
electromagnetic blackout extending 160 kilometers from the Pymatunig Lake
battlesite is still in effect, though there’s now a flashing red beacon
indicating a report of a new battle in some hick town named Chardon. Additional markers not moving indicate all
the forces along the 50 km perimeter are moving in rapidly to contain whatever
was in, or got out of the battlesite.
*The 160 km
perimeter was marching methodically inward, with additional holographic video
displays clicking through of house to house searches like nothing America has
ever seen, even during the war-NO consideration given, no quarter offered,
everyone marched off into waiting buses and off to a massive FEMA detention
camp south of Cleveland. ANY resistance
was fired on by every weapon in sight-small arms, tank cannon, gunships, any
NATO fighter-bombers in the vicinity given shoot to kill whatever they
could. All in glorious video that’s
hours late because of the damned EM blackout that’s the centerpiece of this
verdamnt operation.
*He was
getting very frustrated with this entire operation.
General
Warburg retreats to his office overlooking the command chamber, not even
looking at the naked, starved, incredibly abused children chained to his
office’s walls and gets on the phone.
They knew better. He trained them
himself… so he gets on the phone, dials.
“This is
General Warburg, I need to speak with the Joint Chiefs… Ja.” Conference calling… he sets the phone to
speaker mode. “This is Warburg; I
request that the electromagnetic blackout over my battlefield be lifted
immediately. I cannot coordinate my
troops and they certainly cannot communicate with each other, this has turned
into a disaster-a disaster I am not going to be held responsible for.”
“General,
this the blackout stays. We’re prepared
to pay whatever cost in men and material in order to contain whatever shot down
two of the world’s best fighters. That
drone-or design-cannot and will not be allowed to escape.”
“Warburg,
this is General Dixon, Air Force; you have a nuclear armed B-52 and about all
of NATO at your command, just use them!”
“With
respect, but, if the design for this rebel super drone would turn the tide of
this war into the enemy’s favor, why not simply bomb the area and use more
southern routes to break out into the Midwest?”
“Cleveland’s
become strategic.” Another general-
“nation’s road network is densest in this area, not easily cut. Besides, if you’ve been paying attention to
all your feeds we’re clearing this region out.
We do that, secure it, we’ll use this operation as a template for future
actions against the enemy. Win here, Warburg. There’s no other option. Alright we’re done.”
The phone
line cuts. Warburg simply walks out, the
current operation the only thing on his mind.
He’s greeted by four American intelligence agents. The lead-a big but wiry blonde haired male in
his late 30’s perhaps 40 leads two finely but simply dressed women and a even
bigger black male who clearly are subordinate…
“General
Warburg, if you have a minute-“
“-Ah, Tom
Jager! From Los Angeles-wonderful! You’re here-I have much use of you! I see you have a team.”
“Yes,
General: this is Carol Finn, Andrea
Hazel, and Andre Grace.”
“Yes,
yes! Your government’s counter-terrorist
specialists from Homeland Security.
Heard many great things about you and how your group’s single handedly
disrupted the Los Angeles threat.”
“Thank
you. I am confused however; we know
nothing about this area-why were we called in?”
“You’re the
best. Come let us look at the situation
at hand.” All five of them look out at
the holographic map and video feeds of the battlefield. Among them are recovered combat camera images
from the downed F22 Raptors of the clandestinely built rebel drone that shot
them down with such ease…
“I need you
and your team to go into the heart of the electromagnetic blackout zone that
will remain up, and you’re to find the trail of the group that built and
launched that drone.”
Andrea Hazel
speaks, all 5’10” former model of her; “wasn’t there another operative working
this?”
“Yes a Agent
Cooper of the FBI though my own sources indicate that was a cover-I presume him
dead from the Chardon incident but if you do link up with him, assist him in
tracking down the group, otherwise track them down yourselves.”
“Um,” Carol
Finn: 5’4, not nearly as attractive.
Obviously the brains of the group.
“General, I don’t know how useful myself and Andrea are going to be if
we can’t communicate with Tom and Andre.”
“I
know. However, we do have our own
landlines at the 50 kilometer perimeter we laid down, use them as you can find
them, they ought to be where there are company headquarters. Alright Agent Jager: I give you my full
authority to pull whatever forces you need… can you carry this mission out
given the situation?”
“If we can
pick up the trail, we’ll find her.”
MARIETTA, OHIO
The
Commander of the former Warren Ohio underground base-right underneath the
current Federal Fusion Center-gets in a semi-trailer, riding shotgun with a
real trucker. He doesn’t know his real
name. Didn’t need to. He certainly didn’t know his.
“I do the
driving.” Trucker starts “if there’s a
emergency hopefully I’ll still be able to-otherwise, you’ll be doing the
driving, solo. Hope your ID checks out
when we hit a checkpoint, we’re bound to.
Stay quiet, let me do the talking, these cops know me, I’ve been hauling
their shit for them since well before the war started. Hope the trip’s worth it.”
“So do
I.” The Commander watches as the Trucker
puts his semi into gear, and they roll off to the North to the interstate, to
Cleveland hauling a trailer full of ammunition.
Whatever was going on was requiring every last mode of transport to
supply all the forces arrayed up there.
BACK ROAD, GEAUGA COUNTY
Kayla comes
to, in the front passenger seat-with the fourth copy of the guy she thought was
Jesus Christ parking the Chardon cop car she took from a now dead Chardon cop
in the barely there driveway of a long collapsed farm. He drives the car in the back, parks under a
awning. At least he knows that much she
thought.
He turns to
her. “Yes I really am who you think I am
but don’t want to admit.”
“No. No, no.
You’re not doing this. Not
today.”
“Yes,
today. Listen: you need to succeed. The fate of this country, the fate of this
world depends on you, and what you do.”
“And why
would that possibly be?” There, Kayla
thought… Kayla looked into the big, soft, compassionate eyes, feel the love and
concern just washing over her like tidal waves… the neat scars on the wrists…
Kayla brushes aside the long, hippie hair to see a jagged line of marks on the
brow. She passes out.
Kayla wakes
up-in the driver’s seat, behind a abandoned farm. What a dream.
No time for dreams though, and she needs a place to hide out.
Now
normally, Kayla would use a cell phone but with this weird electromagnetic
effect going on that wasn’t happening… look around, look around-neighbors! Leaving most of her armament she takes the
silent, selective fire Glock pistol, heads to a neighbor’s home.
Months
before the Geauga County Volunteers left pamphlets all over their area of
operation and one of those was the protocols for assistance of any Volunteer
under threat or duress, and being a good soldier Kayla knew those by
heart-she’s had to use them more than once.
Kayla knocks
on the back door: RAP, RAP… RAP, RAP, RAP, RAP… RAP-SLAM!
She awaits…
she has the Glock 18 behind the back, at the ready…
A voice from
inside: “cancerous tumor!”
“Colloidal
silver!” Kayla knew her codes. …She waits… waits… waits… waits…
The door
opens. A older woman, haggared, but
still determined, with a stock SKS rifle at low port. Thank God.
“Kayla
Miller, Pymatunig Militia. I need to get
to Chesterland.”
“Well, beats
having to hide you. Not that we could. Like riding in a horse drawn cart?”
“Sounds like
a question you can only say yes to.”
MINOT AIR FORCE BASE
NORTH DAKOTA
A B-52H
Stratofortress taxis onto the runway, its eight engines spooling up.
Major Glenn
Higgins, pilot and commander, advances the throttles along with Major Anne
Devaraux, the copilot, and the bomber starts to roll down the runway.
Captain
David Morris checks the weapon status; his board shows six B-61 nuclear
weapons, gravity bombs, not armed but ready.
Lieutenant
Gary Schoeder checks the radio, internal comms, and onboard radar and sensors-a
map shows the 200 mile diameter EM blackout field centered around Pymatunig
Lake-warning no radar, nor radio communications possible. There are also map warnings about enemy air
activity from Wisconsin, Minnesota and Michigan.
Sargeant
Terry Ray sits in the back, at the tail gunner, checking his four 20mm
cannons. Oddly enough not having radar
suddenly makes his position potentially much less anachronistic.
The B-52
takes off, slowly accelerating skyward, heads South. Linking up with the strategic bomber are two
F-22 Raptor fighters-Major Albert Anson, and Captain Jerry Tomkins.
Major
Higgins gets on the comm: “This is Major Higgins, we are proceeding as
planned. MALLET is go.”
CHESTERLAND, OHIO
Kayla lies
under a tarp… not the first time today… on a horse-drawn cart full of
home-grown produce driven by that farmer lady with the SKS westward to
Chesterland. Two years ago this would be
quite anachronistic… not today as they pass a gas station with 25 dollar a
gallon gasoline.
“Folks in
Chesterland know me well.” Farmer Lady
rambles on, “my produce is disease and radiation free.”
“Yah, that’s
important these days” Kayla wonders just how much radiation she’s sucked
down. Everyone does. “Y’know, I’m surprised they let you keep that
SKS.”
“They
haven’t got this part of the country locked down just yet. Yeah it has that nasty bayonet but its stock
Russian. Besides folks in Chesterland
know me well, and know just how many hungry people are around. Not so many of them would go through me as
they would say, west of the freeway but those folks in Chesterland need my
produce. That’s why I’m still armed. Imagine there’s even parts of Ohio where they
still tolerate armed citizens so long as they’re considered safe.”
Kayla shakes
her head… Farmer Lady could sense her doing so.
“I was a Volunteer when Sheriff McLellan first formed them, thought
things would just collapse. A lot of
folks made that bet. A lot of those
folks lost that bet with their lives, but you know that first hand girly. Don’t worry, you’ll get to your contact, just
let me handle this and could you not point your Glock at me so much?”
How did she
know Kayla thinks… woman’s no fool that’s for sure.
The horse
drawn cart approaches the outskirts of town-defined by a roadblock manned by
Geauga County Sheriffs Deputies and a HUMMV full of Ohio National
Guardsmen. No mounted machine gun, but
all the OPFOR are packing M-4s.
“God’s sake
keep quiet girl.” Farmer Lady advances
to the roadblock. The Geauga County
Deputy, a Sargeant, gives a halt gesture, and she complies.
“I’d ask
what your business is, but I already know what that would be.”
“And I’ll
ask if I can be on my way, but you’ll search my horse and buggy anyway. Got nothing to hide.”
“Ma’am I
know what you got, and you’d best be advised to keep it out of sight today-some
serious craziness is going down.”
“In
Chardon. I heard. I couldn’t help but hear.”
“There
definetly was an incident. They’re
trying to piece together what happened-literally-and it looks like a suicide
bomber-“
“-No
way! Suicide bombers-in America?!” Farmer Lady shakes her head in shock and
despair. That Sheriff’s Deputy was no
fool, and this one honestly made rank by not being one.
“I was
hoping you wouldn’t have approved… things are going to get a lot scarier-I’d
hide that SKS very well when you get home, they’ll be doing sweeps.”
“What’s
going on? Why don’t the TV and radio
work?”
“I suspect
it has something to do with what happened in Chardon, and Pymatunig Lake a few
days ago.”
“That air
crash?”
“No
Ma’am. That was rebel activity.” Farmer Lady took a breath… that’s why Kayla
Miller, Pymatunig Militia was in her cart, in the secret compartment…. She
should never have answered the door.
“I
appreciate the word Deputy. But I can
only get these goods to town.”
“After we
search” to the other Deputy and Guardsmen “I’ll search this one myself.” The Deputy Sargeant unfurls the tarp sees the
produce… doesn’t see the hidden compartment, under the seat…
…Kayla aims
at the Deputy Sargeant-no he doesn’t look the fool. Shit fuck shit fuck shit!
…Deputy
Sargeant regards the hidden compartment, and it’s a well crafted hide… a year
of open warfare has given him a well developed sense of danger… he pulls the
tarp over the Farmer Lady’s goods, secures it.
He goes to Farmer Lady with some advice “I’d lay a lot lower about
everything.”
“I do try
Deputy.”
“Take
care. Let her through!” The HUMMV gets moved aside, and the Farmer
Lady with the horse drawn cart goes through.
Chesterland
is a small Ohio town built up from a crossroad, mostly built in the west but
the Farmer Lady strolls the horse through the car-free intersection to
REGGIE’S, a family restaurant that’s somehow been able to hold on. She guides her cart into the back, gets off
and knocks.
Reggie
Jones: mid 50’s, clothes a bit baggy on him suggesting he had a bit of a gut
opens, smiles. “Ah, you’re early. Good thing you’re early, I was actually
running out of food.”
“…Got a
package for you, personally.” Farmer
Lady was not so cheery.
“Better give
it to me right away then.” Farmer Lady
pulls back the tarp, opens the hidden compartment and Kayla Miller cautiously
gets up. Reggie motions for her to enter
and she does just that; Farmer Lady lifting a massive duffel bag with Kayla’s
M-4, M-14, and M-240 and gear and bringing it in with her.
CHARDON, OHIO
Flying
overhead, a UH60 Blackhawk approaches a cleared space near the devastated east
side of Chardon; the fires are out, now there’s burnt houses, burnt vehicles,
burnt bodies. Soldiers and investigators
from everywhere from Chardon to NATO Command swarm the battlefield, taking
measurments.
The UH60
lands, and Tom Jager, Carol Finn, Andrea Hazel, and Andre Grace step out with
four masked operators of indeterminate service and rank. Guards.
Muscle.
All look
around; a NATO official, a Colonel from Great Britain approaches.
“Colonel
Miles Davidson, British Army.”
Tom steps
forward; “Tom Jager, this is my team. I
have authorization from General Warburg to act under his full authority
here-what happened?” Andrea Hazel steps
forward, hands the documentation to the British Colonel.
“Ah,
good. Well, that’s about the only good
thing-lost one of my tank crews today from that bomb blast, took out a whole
platoon of infantry, 60 or so blueshirts-sorry, TSA agents-and several other
suspect vehicles. Then we had a bit of a
battle with my other Challenger, and then some flyboys decided to make certain
any insurgents got perished to the south of here.”
Tom Jager
and his team look to the west, see the bomb blast, the flattened devastation,
then the south and see five bodies-four militia and one man in a black leather
jacket.
“Any ID on
them?”
“The terrs
on the road got turned into mush, maybe we can get DNA. The two other wankers over there are ID’d as
Dave Getz, Sargeant, US Army-deserter.
The boffin at the end is Chris Bernard, student, MIT but he dropped out
at the beginning of your latest civil war.”
“Bet he’s
behind the drone-did you find any plans, flash drives?”
“No.”
“Damn. What about the man in all black?”
“Agent Bill
Cooper, FBI sir. Died taking them down I
believe.”
“Let’s take
a look” Tom Jager leads his crew over to Agent Cooper’s body… yeah it’s
him.
Andre speaks
up; “looks like he took about 10 rifle hits after he went down.”
“Plans are
missing from Bernard as well” Andrea is over by Chris Bernard’s body.
“There’s one
left and that person has the drone plans.
Any reports from local law enforcement Colonel?”
“Beg your
pardon Sir, but we’re still in the process of sorting out just what
happened. I’ll get a vehicle myself-this
bloody electromagnetic blackout, whose bloody ideal was it?!”
“Not
mine.” Tom looks at Agent Cooper’s body
and his other team members cluster around him.
Carol Finn
recognizes the deceased agent, “that’s-“
“Mark
Bolo. In the flesh. He’s a legend in the intelligence
community-known as The Shadow, he was like a… fairy tale. I’d hoped I never met him.”
“You,
Tom?!” Carol was in shock at Tom’s
respectful awe of the black clad corpse.
“He was a
one man commando unit. There would be
problems and he’d be sent in to solve said problems… much of what you hear
about him they say are myth, but...
Carol, check out his vehicle.”
“Which one
is that?”
“The one
that a guy like this would drive. Try
the sports car.” Tom points at the burnt
Mustang and Carol goes over… meanwhile Andrea joins Tom wandering over to the
Roofing Truck.
“What do you
think Andrea, you think a five man team could hide in a secret compartment… in
the back… camoflaged by rubble when nobody has any money for roof jobs?” Tom examines the hide the Pymatunig Militia
used.
“Clever
bunch.” Andrea looks around; a pair of
HUMMVs approaches, the Colonel getting out of the lead. “Just had a chat with the town constable; one
of their vehicles was taken, the officer killed and his weapons stripped from
him-it was reported going southwest.”
Tom Jager
leaps into action “Commandeer the HUMMVs-Carol-“
“-Got
Cooper’s-Bolo’s Toughbook!” Carol comes
running, and joins Tom and his team in the HUMMVs and they spin out of the
battlefield, headed Southwest.
In the lead,
Carol has a good question: “Tom, how are we going to search for a Chardon
police cruiser when we have no communications?”
“I
know. We’ll just have to go back and forth.” Tom brakes the HUMMV-“COLONEL DAVIDSON, CAN
YOU GET MY CHOPPER IN THE AIR?”
“I’LL SPOT
YOU FROM THE AIR MYSELF!” Colonel
Davidson runs to Tom’s Blackhawk and seconds later it takes off as Jager’s team
heads southwest.
REGGIE’S
CHESTERLAND, OHIO
Kayla
Miller’s in the back storage room/office helping with her one good arm helps
Reggie Jones to help stock up the Farmer Lady’s produce.
“Look you
don’t have to help, you’ve obviously been through enough today.”
“Been
through enough the past few days. I’d
like to keep busy if you don’t mind.”
“You gotta
rest though, you got that gunshot that needs tending-speaking of which I got
someone to come over. Now sit down right
now.
Kayla sits,
bone tired but at the same time wired like she’s never been before in her
life. Reggie sits in his office chair by
her.
“I’ve seen
how you are before Kayla. When we stood
against the military, we all were run ragged trying to duck those damned
drones.”
“24/7. They never stopped running them.” Kayla shook her head.
“Yeah. They operate those things in shifts.”
“One thing
to take on a platoon of infantry with those little RC drones, maybe one of
those model helicopters with a machine gun on it-a goose gun’s good enough but
a Predator at 10,000 feet-fuck.” Kayla
shakes her head… “my whole unit perished themselves getting this here, what was
left after those things pounded us to nothing.
The only good thing about this commo blackout’s that it’s stopped them
from flying them around here” Kayla pats Chris Bernard’s satchel with the
plans.
“Tell me
about it. What’s that?”
“Thing that
can turn this war around. Plans to the
drone that shot down those jets and drones over Pymatunig.”
“What?”
“We built a
drone.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It shot down two fighter jets and three
drones. F-22s in fact; saw em’ go down
myself. Hard.”
“Made ace on
its first sortie.”
“Only
sortie-decided to ram the last drone when its gun jammed, or so Chris
figured. And yeah, that’s why there’s a
bunch of BS about a plane crash, why Chardon was blown up trying to stop us,
and probably why no radios or TVs work.”
“And the
landlines cut. We’re operating by
runners and laser signal but there’s so many hostile planes in the air, we
don’t dare do it unless it’s absolutely vital.
Even then-they’re pounding on anything.
Anything.”
“We’re going
to lose here, aren’t we?” Kayla looks
intensely into Reggie’s eyes, something he understands-a shit situation.
“Don’t know
about your situation by the border-“
“-We were
done for anyway. Drone patrols
intercepted shipments about every time, we were out of food, down to basic
combat ammo loads.”
“Death by
inches.” John McLellan enters the
office; if he was a former Geauga County Sheriff turned ‘domestic terrorist’ he
gave no hint with a full growth of beard and chef’s outfit. “Not only do we have to contend with all the
drones in the air, but the enemy cut us off with the freeways.”
“Turned them
into prison walls. Had more than enough
experience with that getting in and out of Warren. Pleasure to meet you again, Sheriff.”
“How’s your
Dad?”
“Dead from a
drone strike. That’s why we launched.”
“Can you
make us a copy of the plans?”
“No need to
ask Sheriff you’re getting one. Think
you can get me outta here?”
“That we’ll
have to make arrangements. Reg I’m going
to be late for work tonight, I got some calls to make… or messages-how in the
hell are they shutting down the entire EM spectrum anyway?”
GEOSTATIONARY SPACE ABOVE EARTH
A huge
satellite, blacker than black orbits 22,300 miles above the Western Hemisphere;
a cylinder with a nuclear engine, massive solar panels extended, and a series
of transmitters aimed at America… at Ohio.
WESTERN GEAUGA COUNTY
Colonel
Miles Davidson, British Army, cruises overhead in the Blackhawk helicopter,
with a Copilot operating a optical/thermal sensor. The Colonel himself looks out the open door
with a pair of binoculars. “Bloody hell,
how do these Colonials manage to hide a fucking cop car!”
In the
HUMMV, Tom Jager rolls through the Geauga countryside, Andre Grant riding
shotgun with an assault rifle, Andrea and Carol going over Mark Bolo’s
Notebook…
“Tom I don’t
see how Bolo’s done any worse than you have-well, you know what I mean”
Andrea’s nonplussed at the hideous carnage Mark Solo/Agent Cooper inflicted on
those unfortunates who knew/aided the Pymatunig Militia. Andre takes a look at the video of Mark Bolo
taking a blowtorch to the genitals of a elderly lady…
“Ah, I see
the Shadow appreciates Mr. Blowtorch.”
“Who
doesn’t?” Tom pipes in. “Turn up the
audio.”
Carol
complies:
Elderly Lady SCREAMS, screams horribly with
the application of the propane blowtorch to her privates at low heat.
Mark Bolo: “Where’s their safe house at?”
Elderly Lady sobs, shakes. “Goddamn you to Hell you son of a bitch.”
“I can appreciate you not feeling like
cooperating. Tell the truth I’m
impressed by your continued silence. I
can change that.” Bolo leaves the
Elderly Lady to her suffering, drags out a Granddaughter-just a little
girl! He roughly binds her to a chair
facing her, rips her clothes off. He
grabs the blowtorch.
“I believe you hickbilly gunfuckers call
this Mr. Blowtorch. Well, Mr. Blowtorch
is about to deflower your lovely little Granddaughter. Too bad-I know plenty of people who’d
appreciate that fine little ass…
Tom has
pulled the HUMMV over and the four of them watch the screen, hear the horrific
screams from the child.
“Oh, I
haven’t done it like THAT! Not yet…”
“Get a
chance in a few hours I suspect, Boss.”
Andre smiles.
“If we can
find her-this goddamn EM blackout! I’m
finding a place to park; let the Blackhawk find it, let them come to us. No need for the good Colonel to have to hunt
two vehicles. …What else does Bolo got
in there?”
CHESTERLAND, OHIO
Sheriff John
McLellan-former Sheriff-walks across the street to shopping mall, to what was a
supermarket-now a daily flea market. He
approaches the front entrance; two huge Guards nod him through and go through
John McLellan does…
A
supermarket is a big open space with linoleum floors and flourescent
lighting-but without a tenant to pay the electric bill the power comes from a
series of ad hoc generators, windmills, solar panels on the roof, the wiring
crudely plugged into the lighting.
The shelves
are mostly gone-save for those salvaged for walls or use by vendors. There are a lot of vendors-everyone from full
time dealers to desperate families offering what spare produce they sold or
parts or, if you ask, other riskier things like guns, gun parts, ammunition. Most of the things for sale are common
household items-about all of which gather dust.
A few vendors sell CDs of illegal movies, copies of web sites but have
most of their items being copied DVD movies.
John
McLellan approaches a fully equipped stall; filled with old memorabilia, some
jewelry, how to books, hand crafted crossbows and bows, walking sticks, common
auto parts like lamps, spark plugs. The
Vendor sits behind a glass display case; about 40, full beard getting peppered
with grey, Jewish, stocky and strong.
“Afternoon, John.”
“Avrim” John
replies “I need an out, for a girl.”
“Oh. That’s not going to be easy. Not at all.”
Avrim shakes his head, in a practiced act.
“I
know.” Yeah, John knows a negotiation’s
going to be tough with this one. “If I
thought I could do it myself, I would.”
“Ah. This must be important. I will have to know where you want her to go
to.”
John
collects himself… regards Avrim; he’s dealt with him and he’s been
straight-wants his cut, a profit margin, but he’s established himself as fair
as well…. “You’ve helped us out, and you’ve been more than fair when you could
have-“
“-Oh what do
you want already?!” Avrim can be short.
“She needs
to get to the Free States.”
Avrim leans
forward, “are you a police officer?”
“Not since I
started shooting back-“
“-This is serious
John! What did this girl do to merit
smuggling to the Free States?”
“Her group
was responsible for shooting down two fighter jets and three combat drones over
Pymatunig Lake, by the border-“
“-I know
where!”
“How much?”
“What did
they use to accomplish this?”
“They built
a drone.”
“And
operated it without the signal being triangulated, shelled or bombed out of
existence?”
“You know
they couldn’t do that.”
“…Fully
automated? AI?” Avrim leaned close, eyes boring in on
McLellan….
“I suspect.”
“Give me a
full copy of the design, I shall deliver the girl wherever you need her to
go-the question is where?”
John thinks…
“Michigan-“
“-Out of the
Question!”
“It’s the
closest Free State Avrim.”
“Most of the
militia in the Michigan Republic do not appreciate my People. Certainly not their leadership! I will take her to Alabama, though Texas may
be the best bet, but getting there will be a lot trickier… she will have to
backtrack-through PA, and down the Appalachian Mountains-hopefully there’s
still enough of a resistance left hiding there to assist.”
“You’ll make
the usual arrangements?”
“No. I will take the girl myself.”
“You?”
“John I
consider you a friend so I will speak truthfully; my people will be very
interested in this drone.”
“Isn’t
Israel gone though?”
Avrim
shrugs. “Most of it.”
WESTERN GEAUGA COUNTY
The
Blackhawk lands in the clearing where Tom Jager’s team has parked their HMMV
and Colonel Davidson waves. Tom gets out
and runs to him; “found that missing police cruiser five kilometers south of
here!”
“Go there
and orbit we’ll be there in a few minutes!”
Tom Jager runs back to the HMMV gets in and speeds along the back roads…
…Few minutes
later, Tom Jager’s HMMV arrives at the abandoned farm… right when the Farmer
Lady arrives with her horse drawn cart.
Andre looks
at her… “Think she knows something?”
“Got a
blowtorch?” Tom jokes. He gets out with Andre; Carol and Andrea stay
behind, being more intelligence analysts than frontline agents. They approach Farmer Lady, G36 5.56 carbines
aimed at her. “GET DOWN FROM THE CART
RIGHT NOW! RIGHT NOW!” The Blackhawk orbits overhead, a side mounted
M240 aimed at the Farmer Lady.
Farmer Lady
regards the situation; two highly trained, well armed government agents with
automatic weapons aimed at her, a helicopter with a machine gun aimed at her
overhead… some things are best not stretched out. She smiles.
“Oh Father
in Heaven-“ Farmer Lady whips out her SKS carbine snap shoots at Andre and puts
a round through his skull! She starts
aiming for Tom…
“NO!” Tom Jager hoses Farmer Lady, peppering her
with high velocity 5.56mm, the orbiting Blackhawk joining in with the M240,
turning her into bloody mush.
“FUCK!” Tom kneels down by Andre-now dead… where’s
the nearest fucking town?!”
REGGIE’S
CHESTERLAND, OHIO
Kayla
Miller’s chowing down on a plate full of spaghetti, another plate of garlic
bread, and a coke. John McLellan returns
with Avrim Heinz, with Reggie at the door.
“Mhrey” Kayla mumbles through a mouth full of spaghetti and bread.
“Chew and
swallow, dear.” Reggie can only look at
Kayla, he’s seen a lot of hungry people the past couple years. Kayla chews, swallows, takes a swig of coke,
then reluctantly turns towards her benefactors.
“Sorry. Your food’s really good.”
“Kayla” John
starts, “this is Avrim Heinz; he’s going to get you to where you need going.”
“Thanks. Hi.
Where’s that?”
Avrim
answers, “that’s what we need to talk about now.”
“Ah.”
“We were
talking a bit earlier, and Avrim thinks it would be best to get to the Free
States.”
“That’s a
no-brainer.”
“Ah, you
would think!”
Kayla gives
Avrim Heinz a good quick look. “You have
objections to going to Michigan… yeah, I can see how you would.”
“Good
girl. You’re smart-I think we’ll get
along.” Avrim approaches; “I work for
the State of Israel.”
“That’s
still around?!”
“Yes. I won’t go into details at this time, save
that we need your unit’s drone plans as much as your fellow countrymen. As for Michigan, they don’t have the
resources to exploit this technology anyway, they can barely keep themselves in
bullets and fuel. I want to head further
west-Texas, Montana, Zion, Jefferson.”
“That’s
going to be quite an adventure getting there” Kayla thinks it through, easier
to do when you’re not having hunger dominate your thoughts “they sending a lot
of shit this way and I’m sure most of it’s not yet here.”
“It’s worse
than you think. NATO is intervening in
your civil war.”
“Saw that
when that British tank blew two of my friends away.”
“My
condolences. Yes, NATO’s here, and many
more of them are landing in New York, Boston, Norfolk.”
“How
many?” John asks, “heard Alabama sent
their battleship to try an intercept.”
“It
failed. They threw everything at it,
quite the sea battle but no-a full army corps has landed, and is headed west,
to here. Ohio’s done for and likely
Michigan will follow. Our hope lies west
of the Mississippi. You know, they got a
nuclear powered satellite that can shut down all EM transmissions within a 200
mile radius… what we’re going through now.
Your drone’s got them desperate, girl.”
Kayla leans
back-no she can’t help but smile at the ruckus her and her now perished troop
have caused. “Alright. We’ll get out of here-you’re guiding me,
right?”
Avrim nods.
“Good-you’re
a big boy, you’re humping the 240.”
Kayla turns to John, “think I can get some rest before me and Avrim hit
the road?”
“I don’t
recommend too much of a delay. Even my
people aren’t sure how much they’ve thrown into this state.” Avrim produces a netbook computer, “now if
you don’t mind I’d like my copy now.”
“Aw hold
on! What obligation would you have to
get me outta here if I just give you the plans now?”
“Good
point.” Reggie nods.
Avrim sets
the netbook down at the desk, “I’ll get you to the Free States Kayla. You have my word, and I’m giving that word to
you on account of how your government fucking left us flapping in the wind
during our war! You destroying your
govenrment is justice for what they’ve failed to do for us!”
Kayla gets
out the flash drive with the plans, “since you put it that way.”
NEWBURY, OHIO
Another
little burg built from a country crossroad.
Colonel Davidson, British Army, in the Blackhawk lands near a armored
platoon of four British Warrior infantry fighting vehicles, presents himself to
the commander, a Captain…
REGGIE’S
CHESTERLAND, OHIO
Tom Jager
and his team arrive at the outskirts of town, at that roadblock Farmer Lady
went through a few hours ago. Tom gets
out, goes straight for the Deputy Sargeant.
“My name’s Tom Jager, I’m with the federal government and I’m going to
need you and your mens assistance in searching this town for insurrectionists.”
The Sargeant
thought fast-ANY hesitation or calculation and this serious looking fed would
make his worst nightmares come to frightening reality… “whatever you want,
Sir.”
“Good. I have a Blackhawk and a platoon of British
mechanized infantry coming this way.
When they get here, redeploy to the south, west, and north and we’ll
squeeze them out. We’re going door to
door and we’re not stopping until we get what we came for! Understand?”
“Yes
Sir.” Nothing else for the Sheriff’s
Deputy to do but to obey… right?
“Come
on!” Tom Jager gestures his team to
follow him and they enter Reggie’s “I’m making this my command post!”
In the back
of Reggie’s, Kayla finishes up her meal; John McLellan finishes making a copy
of the drone plans for his own use, when they both hear the commotion from the
dining room. They both go to
investigate…
Tom Jager,
Carol, Andrea and his troops burst in, loud and proudly obnoxious as only feds
can.
“This
restaurant is now under federal control!”
Tom Jager waves his badge overhead, Sig Saur in the other hand,“leave
now-right fucking now!” Tom gives it a
thought then shoots a customer dead-just to make an example “I FUCKING MEAN
IT!”
The patrons
stream out quietly, not wanting to join that unfortunate American. “Get rid of this body, and get me set up.”
In the back
room Kayla and John look at each other-no words are needed. Kayla hands the M-4 with chest rig full of
loaded magazines to John as Kayla gets out her suppressed Glock 18 machine
pistol, dials the selector to full auto.
She nods to John-he’ll head this, it’s his town, his county.
Kayla and
John creep up to the door, then burst through….
Carol and
Andrea are in the center, setting up their computers, with Tom Jager to the
left, his eight troops to the right-all of them look as a bearded older man and
a young lady burst through.
Kayla works
the right, going to the left-she tips the Glock 18 gangsta style to the left
and rips full auto, letting the recoil carry the machine pistol from right to
left, going for the groin.
John
McLellan aims the M-4 at Tom Jager but decades in covert ops helps him; he
lands backwards onto the floor, aims his Sig Saur at John as he fires!
Carol and
Andrea both push the table towards the threat.
Kayla’s
Glock 18 runs dry-she grasps for a second 33 round magazine as she ejects the
first, letting it hit the ground.
Tom Jager
FIRES pegging John McLellan in the legs, gut and shoulder as he lands and
shoots. John McLellan’s bucked
backwards.
Kayla sends
the slide forward. Still on full auto
she aims at Tom Jager…
…Tom rolls
out of the way…
Kayla fires
a burst; Tom’s reactions just enough to avoid the five round burst. She goes left behind the counter.
“Carol,
Andrea-get outta here and get help-NOW!”
Carol and Andrea have no problem obeying Tom and scamper out of the
restaurant. Tom grabs a M-4 off one of
his wounded soldiers and SPRAYS the counter Kayla’s hiding behind, the 5.56
filling the air with splinters.
Kayla on the
ground, she crawls fast to the back room as Tom’s M-4 runs dry. He transistions back to the Sig Saur as she
disappears into the back office.
Kayla
switches back to semi auto, stuffs the Glock and grabs her M-14.
Reggie peeks
his head out from the Kitchen-“Get back Reggie!” Kayla warns!
Tom Jager
puts a round from his Sig into Reggie’s head.
He drops down, dead. Kayla
screams!
Tom grabs a
fragmentation grenade off another of his wounded soldiers pulls the pin, lets
the spool fly, then chucks it into the back then loads a fresh magazine into
the M-4.
The grenade
EXPLODES!
Tom Jager
rises with the M-4, charges forward with maximum aggression…
…when Avrim
Heinz charges into the restaurant with an equal amount of aggression-with his
new M240 general purpose machine gun ….
Tom turns,
sees the new threat-big man with belt fed.
He ducks for concealment behind the counter…
Avrim cuts
loose; he shreds the counter with a long burst of 7.62 then turns on the
wounded soldiers and finishes them off.
“KAYLA!”
Kayla is in
the back room, and is stunned; the shrapnel embedding in the walls but not
hitting her, though the concussion sure as hell did. “Yeah.”
Kayla gets
up, staggers, takes her Glock, resets to full auto, comes out and turns left to
the counter…
Tom Jager
sprays wildly, sending both Kayla and Avrim ducking for cover. He empties it in their general direction,
then draws his Sig Saur shoots out a surviving window pane and dives out of the
restaurant.
Avrim and
Kayla recover. “What the fuck?!”
“We got to
get out of here Kayla, before we’re trapped!”
A rumble is
heard from outside…
Avrim and
Kayla look to see four British Warrior infantry fighting vehicles take
positions outside the restaurant, 30mm chain guns turned at them, British
soldiers disgorged from the rear-seven each to form a 28 man execution squad.
Tom Jager
takes position behind one of the armored vehicles, his own assault rifle in
hand. Miles Davidson combat crouches
over, L85 bullpup rifle in hand “I need to tell you we are deployed, Sir?”
“Get some of
your troops around the sides of this building, cover the rear exit. I need a megaphone.”
“Right. Soldier!”
Colonel Davidson addresses the Commander of the Warrior they were sheltering
behind “fetch us a corded mike if you would.”
“Yes
Sir!” The Commander dives back in, then
produces a corded phone, hands it to the Colonel who hands it to Tom
Jager. “Kayla Miller, this is Tom
Jager-it’s over! Come out and I will
personally see to it you’re treated well.”
From inside
Reggies, Kayla and Avrim hear Tom Jager.
“I respect you and your companion as warriors and as Americans. This country’s been torn apart enough by this
war… hasn’t there been enough death?”
Avrim turns
to Kayla who simply stares at Tom Jager, almost catatonic. “I’m afraid he’s right Kayla. Listen:
I’m with Mossad. My government
can insure your safety and well being. I
have diplomatic status as well, so I can get these drone plans out, and
eventually to your compatriots in the Free States. …Let me talk to this Jager fellow, and maybe
I can talk him into letting you go with me.
I’ll tell them something and maybe you won’t even be in their custody.”
Avrim gently
turns Kayla to face him, “we get out of here, we can go anywhere-you and
me. My government can send you anywhere
in the world you want. Europe, the
Carribean, wherever.”
Kayla stares
back at him, not quite there… “Kayla, do this with me and if you want you could
even come back to America. Live to fight
another day-but the key to that is staying alive!”
Kayla looks
at Avrim, not staring, a decision reached “go talk to him.”
Avrim
exhales in relief. He embraces, hugs
Kayla, kisses her on her forehead.
Gathering his wits and his courage anew, Avrim Heinz comes into view
“Tom Jager, I am Avrim Heinz with the Mossad-I am coming out to negotiate terms
between you and the American. I am fully
authorized by my government to do this!”
Outside
Jager and Col. Davidson look at each other in digust “bloody balls up this has
turned into I tell you!”
“Carol! Check up Avrim Heinz-“
“-My
computer’s inside Tom! And we can’t find
out about Heinz anyway because of the EM blackout!”
“FUCK!” Tom paces back and forth…. He gets on the
mike again; “Avrim Heinz, come out unarmed;
I will meet you halfway!”
Inside,
Avrim was watching, and smiles at Tom’s reaction “I’M COMING JAGER!” He sets the M240 down as well as the packs of
belted ammunition. He turns to Kayla
“see girl, I will get you out of this and out of here. I know this Jager fellow-he will keep his
word when he has to.” And with that
Avrim Heinz steps outside, walks toward the British armored vehicles.
Tom Jager
advances, striding to the midpoint between his forces and the restaurant like
the proverbial predator he is. They meet
up, facing off.
“As
stated: Avrim Heinz, Mossad.”
“Your
credentials, Sir-you’ll understand if I ask given conditions.”
“Ah, I do
have credentials-they are not exactly from my intelligence agency” so Avrim
hands Tom Jager his diplomatic credentials, with his photograph and ID
number. Tom looks the identification
over with a practiced eye “you’re with the Israeli consolate in Beachwood.”
“You do not
expect a Mossad agent to carry around an ID stating he is from Mossad do you?”
“So why out
yourself?”
“To show you
I am dealing with you straight Mr. Jager.
You’ve worked with my people before.”
“Yes.”
“I want safe
passage for both myself and the girl.”
“You can go-my
Kayla’s going to stay and answer questions.”
Avrim looks
at Tom… decides not ask about the “my”. “You’re
after something. You’re after something
and you’re desperate enough to use an EM blackout generated from geostationary
orbit-“
“-HOW DO YOU
KNOW THAT-“
“-and cut
every last landline, and carpet bomb anyone using a laser within a hundred
sixty kilometers of where your F22s were shot down to stop these drone plans
from getting out and turning this war against you. Yes my government knows all about this
situation.”
“You have
the drone plans!”
“Tom, it’s
time to decide what’s important: that girl or the drone plans.”
“And nobody
else has had a chance to copy them?”
“I can
assure you, the one other person who had a copy was killed by you and your team
when you entered the restaurant. I give
you the drone plans, but I will be taking a copy back to my government-as well
as the girl since she helped construct the drone.”
“Now Avrim,
just how much help do you think a college dropout hip-hop dancer’s going to
give you?”
“I won’t ask
why you’re hung up on this girl-I don’t want to know. This war has caused enough suffering, don’t
you think… you’ll be stopping the drone plans from getting out to your
rebels. Your Eastern Seaboard is
cleared; you can mop up the rest of the country in a couple, maybe three years
tops.”
Tom turns
back, paces, turns, paces back, hand on his mouth… “a rebel killed my colleague
a few hours ago…”
Avrim’s eyes
close into squints “Was it her, in there, that took your colleague’s life? I’ve lost nearly all my relations when Tel
Aviv was nuked because your government had to stand down. And yet, I am here. We’ve both lost, yes? We know about you Tom Jager. You losing your wife to a rogue agent, your
daughter in Jefferson-disowning you as a father. Yes we know.
…That girl in there, she’s lost as well-all she’s done is take some back. We all have.
Look: I’ve stuck my dick out in your sausage grinder by outing myself,
you’re going to stop the rebels from turning this fucking war, and you’ll be a
hero-let that be enough.”
Tom thinks…
Avrim’s hand is by a hidden cut in his pants, by a 25 caliber Beretta Mossad
Agents are more than proficient with.
Tom comes to
his decision. The commanders of the
British Warrior IFV’s are all peeking through the open hatches as well as Col.
Davidson coming into view. “I will
debrief Ms. Miller, do you understand?”
Avrim nods. “I will be present. And you will not harm her.”
“If Ms.
Miller cooperates after I talk with her, you can take her and a copy of the
drone plans out of the country.”
Avrim
nods. He extends his hand and Tom Jager
shakes it, both looking each other in the eye, nodding.
Inside
Reggie’s, Kayla can’t see Tom Jager’s face, but she sees the shoulders move to
make a handshake… she sighs, closes her eyes… then with a fire she brings her
captured suppressed, scoped M14 to shoulder, aims, puts the center of the
mildot crosshair on the farthest right Warrior commander-fires!
FFBAP! Connects to his chest-the M14 shoots a inch
or so above point of aim at this range-can’t be more than 50 yards. Kayla does the calculation in a fraction of a
second, spins on her heels aims the suppressed semi automatic rifle at the
second Warrior commander-fires!
FFBAP! Kayla turns on heel to the third Warrior-they
haven’t figured this out yet, and a good thing the windows are all shot out
already or this wouldn’t have worked.
Back to the task… aim… fire-FFBAP!
Third Brit tank commander down!
On to the fourth… and still not having a clue-God Bless Kayla loves this
new rifle, aims, fires FFBAP! Last fish
n’ chip eater down, now for the Jack Bauer wannabe…
…Outside
Avrim’s face was fully in Tom Jager’s so he misses the faintest of gun flashes
from the suppressed M14 Kayla wields against the exposed Warrior IFV commanders
atop their turrents…
…Colonel
Davidson, British Army doesn’t; he looks up at the sound of the flopping
Warrior IFV commander freshly killed. He
looks around inside, then to his left at the other commanders shot! He raises his L85 and rips a full mag of
5.56mm into Reggie’s!
Tom and
Avrim hit the ground! Both shocked when
Col. Davidson starts spraying the restaurant.
Inside
Reggie’s, Kayla can’t believe it… it actually gives her pause to see the fed
agent talking to Avrim-Tom Jager. Oh
yeah… can’t get a good shot of Jager without going through Avrim-oh well…
…And that’s when
the British Officer sprays his bullpup assault rifle at her-she lets herself
fall to the ground in a slick hip hop dance move she’d done probably 20,000
times.
Outside, all the British Infantrymen start spraying
the fuck out of Reggie’s, one of the Warrior IFVs starting to turn its turrent
to sweep the restaurant. Tom pulls out a
hidden Seecamp-as Avrim Heinz puts his .25 Beretta to his dome: “STOP FIRING!
STOP FIRING I HAVE YOUR LEADER AS MY PRISONER!” He spins Tom around, takes his Seecamp;
Colonel Davidson unshoulders his L85, runs through his ranks ‘CEASE FIRE! CEASE FIRE!
CEASE FIRE! BLOODY CEASE FIRE YOU LOT!”
The infantry
stop firing, the first Warrior starts firing it’s main armament, a 30mm chain
gun BOOMBOOMBOOM-as Davidson rips the now deceased commander aside “STOP BLOODY
FIRING THOSE BUGGERS GOT A HOSTAGE!” The
Gunner inside looks up angrily at his Commanding Officer, but does stop
shooting up the restaurant.
The rest of
the Warriors stand down, as do the British Infantry. Andrea and Carol look on, helpless as the
Mossad Agent has Tom Jager.
To Tom “I’m
sorry sir, I should have disarmed her beforehand; now I will have to use you as
a human shield to get out of here. You
understand.”
“I don’t
care-“
“-Apparently
neither does Ms. Miller! We’ll be going
back inside the restaurant. Come
on.” Avrim guides Tom up and gun on him
guides him back inside the restaurant…
When inside,
feet crunching under the splinters and broken glass and debris and shell
casings, Avrim silently guides Tom to sit at booth, which he does.
Avrim
glares. He glares as Kayla Miller
smoothly, gracefully arises from some shot up celing tiles and debris, M14 in
hand, a death glare straight from hell boring right at Avrim.
“Why”? Avrim loses it now, “WHY YOU FUCKING LITTLE
CUNT?!!”
NIGHTCLUB
COLUMBUS OHIO
April 5, 2012
Kayla Miller
is dancing on stage for a local Rapper…
…Kayla’s not
in camoflage, nor carrying any weapons.
Nor is she 30lbs underweight, desperate, and on the run. What she is doing is moving in ways with her
5’6” 120lb toned body that makes the word dancing a retarded
understatement.
The crowd;
urban, young, black, white and brown, all cheer Kayla.
Her set
done, Kayla smiles, waves, soaking up the cheers and love sent her way. The onstage Rapper goes over and they hug.
Backstage,
the two and the Rapper’s DJ relax…
“I’m going
to Occupy New York” Kayla declares.
“K, girl,
you know I got love for you, but I’m telling you you don’t want to be fuckin’
round at those protests.”
“The po-lice
have been foul, an’ I mean foul by even our standards!” DJ can only look at Kayla Miller, seeing
nothing but resolution there.
“That’s why
I’m doing it. I love you guys. And I thank you fo’ looking out for me, but
I’m not going to spend the rest of my life regretting not doing something about
all this bullshit going down. You need
to be joining me cuz the way things are going, no telling how much longer we
got any right to protest or even say shit’s fucked up. I’d go myself, but I could use you guys.”
“I hear you…
I’ll go wit you then.” The Rapper
rises. Kayla goes to him and they hug.
DJ chimes in
“Uh, yeah. I’ll go as well. Might as well make it a mu’fuckin show
then.” Kayla reaches over, yanks the DJ
up and they group hug.
“Thank you!”
MILLER HOME
WARREN, OHIO
April 25, 2012
Older home
from the 50’s. Brian Miller; bigger and
having a potbelly than he does about two years later sits at the family table
alone with Kayla.
“You’ve got
to believe me Kay, it’s dangerous going to that protest! Anything could happen!”
“I hear you
Dad, I really do. You have to believe
that!”
“Then don’t
go: there are better ways of making
change!”
“How? I mean, I know you do stuff and you don’t
tell me-God knows I never wanted in your militia but marching around with guns
and typing on the internet-what does that do?
Occupy Wall Street, that’s attracting people… yeah a lot of them are
there for the drugs and sex and bang drums but a lot want something done. Maybe you and yours should join them, come at
them with what you got. Maybe if folks
can see the left and the right or whatever you put yo’self… oh God something
needs to be done! Maybe OWS isn’t the
best vehicle, or even one steered by folks a hundred percent but it’s the
biggest. Join me.”
“Kayla, last
time I suggested to the forums we should join OWS and put our message out I was
almost banned. I don’t even dare suggest
it to anyone in my unit. Too bad though,
we need to do something…
If you
deliver my message, I’ll let you go.”
Kayla bounds
over, hugs her Dad, cries.
WALL STREET
NEW YORK CITY
April 28, 2012
Occupy Wall
Street, Season 2 is well underway; this time the very street itself is clogged
by a flash mob of well over a thousand who immediately block access to the road
the New York Stock Exchange is located in what could be described as a
well-oiled takeover. Coordinators direct
people-every one pulling some kind of cart or luggage and they stream in,
directed smoothly down the street, taking over their designated spot.
A
Coordinator guides Kayla, the Rapper and the DJ to their designated spot; like
a well trained fighting force the three set up a dance floor, turntable,
speakers, generator, tent, cooler filled with food and drink. Kayla kicks off her shoes. She’s in a flowing hippie like dress.
“Aw no, hold
up girl I don’t want people to see knarly black feet!”
“We gots
enough hippies in here K.”
“That’s our
audience, yo. Besides get in the spirit
of things. Let’s get started gentlemen.”
DJ switches
on the generator, and there’s an enclosure designed to soak up engine noise and
vibration. Equipment checks are quickly
done and the Rapper goes to grab his mike as Kayla stretches…
…Overhead a
small helicopter drone scans the Occupy Wall Street, and along with all the
city-installed cameras and sensors feeds the video back to…
…a Mobile
Command Center; a huge trailer packed with monitors and Officers monitoring
them. The white shirted NYPD Commander
and a Representative from Homeland Security…
“Wow.”
“Yeah; they
really came out of nowhere this time!
Out from the streets and set up in three minutes, tops. They said their coordinators were on the ball
but fuck me!”
“What’s your
call sir?” The Commander looked at
Homeland Sec. and it didn’t hurt to kiss up to them.
“Let’s see
whose here…” they watch the video feeds…
A braless,
shoeless, hygeine-less hippie girl works a hula hoop. There’s a bunch of those-both male and
female… some you can tell the difference.
Several packs of those hippies bang on drums, chant.
A Ron Paul
for President booth is there, manned by a conservative in suit and tie, a
elderly artifact from the 60’s and a obvious gangbanger: “bust those assholes Commander. Tag em’ and bag em’.”
“Yes
Sir.” They move on:
Groups from
various walks of life congregating; union workers, high tech workers,
out-of-work people freshly evicted from both the Middle Class and their homes,
along with those who’ve been homeless for a long time. …Some
people walking through passing out pamphlets to everyone.
“Hey what
are they passing out-get a copy of that, they don’t look like they’re with the
program here.”
They look
on; a few bands, a couple already shedding their clothes off underneath a
blanket having the first sex of OWS.
“Get lots of
coverage of those two.”
“No need to
give me an order for that!” They all
laugh. A Sargeant manning a console
turns, “got a scan of that printout, Sir.”
They read:
OWS: JUST THE FIRST STEP
Left, right, rich, poor; WE have been
looking for solutions to this country’s problems. We’ve looked to each of our anointed
so-called heroes, our politicians for help and when that didn’t work we just
looked away and paid attention to our sports and celebrity… heroes.
Isn’t it obvious the solution is US? We the People!
We are Sovereign! We are the rulers of America, not our public
servants-and if that will never be understood by them then they must go!
Yet, how do we do that? By relying still on the same tired ways-that
don’t work? No. The solution is with YOU-WHERE YOU LIVE! Start local, clean out your town of the
criminals there, spread the Second American Revolution! Here’s how-
“Hokay
that’s enough of that! Get those fuckers
outta there!”
They watch…
a minute later the Pamphleteers are accosted by the OWS Coordinators, given
hell.
They come up
on Kayla Miller, the Rapper and DJ. The
Commander and the Homeland Security Rep eye Kayla in the flowing skirt and
cropped tank top, toned body, firm breasts, fine ass, long legs making like a
hip hop 60’s flower girl, moving like crazy and just not stopping. They all check her out head to toe, keep
looking at her move to the beat as that Rapper does his thing.
“Who’s that
girl? Really, look her up!”
The
Commander himself looks up the biometrics on the girl, “Kayla Miller, from
Warren, Ohio. Some misdemeanors;
disorderly conduct, no surprises there-this isn’t exactly her scene though.
“Fucking
protests. Can’t tell whose going to come
to these things.”
“…Oh yeah!”
Representative
looks at what the Commander’s looking at: her dad, Brian Miller is on the
domestic terrorist black list.
“Jackpot.”
“One hip hop
hippie chick coming up.”
Kayla’s on
stage when she sees a Pamphleteer being confronted by the Coordinators-she
immediately stops dancing, marches straight out through the crowd… they part
the way for Kayla as she marches straight at the confrontation…
“…We cannot
and will not have this incendiary crap passed out!”
“It’s
freedom of-“
-“You can
practice your hate speech someplace else-“
-Kayla grabs
the Coordinator-some fugly professional college student/pol sci major, spins
her about to face her: “FUCK YOU DOING BITCH!”
“What? Who-“
“FUCK YOU
DOING FUCKING WITH MY PEOPLE BITCH?!”
“Whoa; let’s
calm this down; I was explaining official OWS policy-“
-“My
policy’s to fuck up anyone fucking with my people!”
“I’ll have
you thrown out-“
-“DO
IT! I’LL FUCK YO’ ASS UP RIGHT NOW
BITCH! I BEEN TO JAIL-JAIL AIN’T FUCKIN’
SHIT TO ME! LET’S GO!”
The crowd of
OWS protestors surrounds both the Coordinator and Kayla… Coordinator looks at
the Cops and doesn’t see any sign of helping her out… she turns and walks way,
having to get through the crowd who aren’t too quick in parting the way-she
even gets shoved.
Kayla
laughs. The crowd cheers her and she
bounds back up the stage.
“That’s
Special Kay Y’all” the Rapper calls out!
In the
Command Center, the Homeland Security Representative and NYPD On Site Commander
look at each other…. This will have to wait until they can bag this bitch
without backup.
OWS: It’s
after Midnight; Kayla Miller has been dancing all day and all night. Utterly exhausted.
“Call it a
day, girl. Go on back to headquarters
an’ get some real bed time girl. Don’t
worry; it be my turn tomorrow-“
“-FUCK
you!” Kayla playfully bats at the Rapper
and starts walking, her feet looking like shoes they’re so dirty. “Hey, yo’ shoes!”
“Who cares,
the damage is done.” Kayla scoops up her
sneakers and walks through the OWS protest, then sees the NYPD guarding, or
containing, the protest.
One of the
cops approaches her, “Ma’am I strongly suggest you go back in. It’s not safe.”
“What? All y’all are here, right?”
“Exactly…
please, let me-“
“I’m good
Officer! Have a nice night.” Kayla walks off down the block.
At the end
of the block Kayla’s grabbed by NYPD Emergency Response Team and thrown hard
into a waiting wagon, her shoes and purse flying elsewhere. A Officer grabs the purse gets in and they
speed off.
OCCUPY WALL STREET
NEW YORK CITY
May 1, 2012
The Rapper
speaks to the entire mass of Protesters-all races and creeds in rapt
attention: “Kayla Miller was a
dancer! She had nothing but love for
people! She came from Warren Ohio-a town
that’s had its lifeblood, it’s industry and jobs stripmined out by these Wall
Street MOTHERFUCKERS!”
The crowd
CHEERS!
“She’s a
DANCER! What have the FUCKING POLICE
done with Kayla?! THEY’RE THE ONES WHO
KINDAPPED KAYLA MILLER BECAUSE THEY WERE THE LAST PEOPLE SHE WAS SEEN WITH!”
The Rapper
holds up Kayla’s sneakers… “THESE ARE KAYLA’S SHOES-WHERE’S KAYLA MILLER?!”
The crowd
starts “WHERE’S KAYLA MILLER? WHERE’S
KAYLA MILLER? WHERE’S KAYLA MILLER?”
DETENTION CENTER
NEW YORK CITY
May 1, 2012
Converted
from a warehouse, the cells are open cages all empty in preparation…
In an
interrogation room he Homeland Security Representative has Kayla tied to a
interrogation chair, hair greasy, naked, dirty, bags under her eyes. A NYPD Detective stands over her and whenever
she starts to nod off to sleep-WHACK!
Kayla gets open hand hit in the face.
She cries, and the two government officials laugh.
The
Representative has a TV set and turns it on for Kayla; it’s a feed from Occupy Wall Street and
they’re all chanting “WHERE’S KAYLA MILLER?!”
Over and over and over.
…The News
Crews are ushered out of the area by NYPD-at gunpoint…
“Yeah Kayla,
they’re wondering where you’re at. Let’s
let them find out.” Rep. gets on a cell
phone, speed dials, “do it.” He hangs
up, turns, gets behind.
They all
watch as tear gas cannisters and percussion grenades EXPLODE among the OWS
protesters. Lines of NYPD with riot
shotguns open up on the crowd with rubber rounds-dozens of Americans fall
instantly, gravely injured, maybe dead.
The rest
start to run or seek shelter; those that run only run up against another
phalanx of Riot Cops who beat them back into Wall St. with batons and a LRAD
turned up to a horrific SCREECH… back to the full volleys of rubber buckshot,
percussion grenades, tear gas. Those
that try to gain entry into varying buildings find they’re locked-those that
desperately try to break in are SHOT with live ammo by building security.
…The
Coordinators are careful to stand to the side-a door opens and a NYPD White
Shirt Officer motions them inside, and they go in.
That is what
everyone in the interrogation room sees.
The government men smile, chuckle.
Kayla is in a state of horror beyond horror-beyond even her own ordeal
as the Detective reaches from behind and starts sexually assaulting her
breasts.
The door opens,
and Tom Jager steps forward, “Tom Jager-this my girl?”
“Yes
Sir! It’s an honor to be working with
you Agent.”
Tom only
nods. The Detective had stopped sexually
assaulting Kayla to look up-“as you were Detective.” He smiles and gets back to getting off.
“You know
the other reason why we picked you up Ms. Miller? Your dad.”
“I don’t
know ANYTHING YOU FU-“ Kayla’s cut off
with a bear paw delivered to the side of her face by the Detective. Tom Jager leans down to the hapless
prisoner’s face, now swollen on both sides, “I know you don’t know about your
father’s militia activities.”
“Don’t know
nothing. I swear to God; I am going to
sue the fuck out of you for this!”
“Nuh,
unh. Law’s changed; you’re now an enemy
combatant.”
“WHAT?”
“You resisted
arrest. Since your dad has ties with
those militia extremists, that means we actually have a plausible legal reason
to strip you of your citizenship… as well as your clothing. You’re renditioned-outside of the judicial
system, which means among other things, we get to fuck the fuck out of you.”
Kayla
screams. They let her as both Tom Jager
and Homeland Security Representative unzip their pants…
LOCAL PARK
OUTSIDE ERIE, PENNSYLVANIA
January 6, 2013
Trees
abound. In the parking lot, Brian Miller
awaits by his Ford truck as two typical black government SUVs pull up; armed
SWAT-like agents jump out, M4’s at the ready.
Overhead a low flying drone buzzes about. The SWAT agents aim at Brian Miller.
“Easy fellas
I’m alone and unarmed. As agreed.”
Someone in
one of the SUVs calls out: “He’s alone!”
“Let’s get
this over with then…” that voice emerges: some human robot in a suit who pulls
out a frail, shaking figure wrapped in a blanket, barefoot-her toenails haven’t
been clipped in many months. He yanks
the blanket away and a naked, emaciated, scarred, utterly filthy Kayla Miller
tumbles to the ground. “Government
property” the suit states.
“KAYLA!” Brian Miller rushes to her, stripping off his
coat and covering his daughter. “You
didn’t have to do that!”
“You’re
telling us what we can’t do Mr. Miller?
We held up our end of the agreement-you have your daughter back.”
“You-“
“-I know
nothing about what may have happened to Ms. Miller while in our custody; just
know we can always return her to her cell if you don’t hold up your end of the
agreement.”
With that
the suit and his armed and armored thugs pile back into their SUVs and roll
away as Brian Miller gently picks up his badly tortured, nearly catatonic
daughter, crying.
REGGIE’S DINER
CHESTERFIELD, OHIO
March 20, 2014
All those
memories, events, flood through Kayla now with Tom Jager…. Avrim looks at Tom
Jager; yeah they know each other quite well.
“Kayla,
what’s going on with you and Jager?”
Kayla
ignores Avrim. She faces off against Tom
Jager.
“L-look Kay-“ Kayla pulls out her suppressed Glock 18,
shoots Tom Jager in the gut and he crumples down to the debris strewn floor.
“Ah… ah I
can’t move my… I can’t feel my fucking legs!”
Outside, the
British infantry start to rush-“HE AIN’T DEAD YET, BUT I’LL KILL THIS JACK
BAUER PUNK ASS WANNABEE, MOTHERFUCKERS!”
Kayla stares down the soldiers and she can hear Col. Davidson “BACK
UP! BACK UP ALREADY!”
Kayla
crouches down, to face Tom Jager. “I was
wondering why I wanted to shoot you so particularly bad, but I had to suppress
a lot of yo’ shit just to start functioning again.” She snorts, “I see you paralyzed-good. Now, I want you to witness this...”
Kayla
unslings her M14 looks through the scope, sees Andrea and Carol together about
a hundred yards away by a Geauga County Sheriff’s SWAT vehicle, out in the
open, running to the scene and FFBAP-FFBAP-SHOOTS them both in the head, dead.
All the cops
and British infantry OPEN FIRE again and Kayla and Avrim duck to the floor as
they’re covered in more Reggie’s debris-with Kayla laughing. The firing dies down for magazine changes and
she rises, straining to prop flopping Tom Jager up: “I WILL KILL ANYONE ELSE WHO FUCKING TRIES
RUSHING US-THEM TO BITCHES WAS AN EXAMPLE, YO!”
The police
and NATO military forces stop shooting.
Colonel Miles Davidson gets on the speaker “MA’AM, WE CANNOT NEGOTIATE
IF YOU KEEP SHOOTING AT US!”
“BLOW IT OUT
YO’ FUCKING HALF INCH DICK-INBRED FISH N’ CHIPS EATIN’ YUCKMOUTH MUTHAFUCKA!”
“Kayla”,
it’s Avrim, “Kayla you have to stop this!”
“Avrim, the
only reason your double dealing ass still alive is cuz I need someone to hump
my machine gun.”
“But, how do
you know Tom-“
“Yo, if you
keep pressin’ on how I know this muthafucka, I’m just gonna blast yo’ kosher
ass right here.” Kayla crouches down,
keeping Tom Jager propped up by a booth.
By the
Warrior IFV’S Colonel Davidson’s had enough:
“Fuck them! Open fire!”
…Atop the
former supermarket turned flea market Travis Dane sets up a M72, aims for a
Warrior IFV, his second Joe Bielski has a scoped Hk-91… Travis aims…
A rocket
streaks towards the IFV and BLOWS it apart!
A second rocket BLOWS UP the Warrior IFV with Davidson along with it.
At a
shuttered Denny’s two blocks further away, Doug Heemeyer has a M40 sniper rifle
but that’s aside as he assists loading a MG42 in the hands of Adam Bent. He cocks the weapon, aims-Doug knocks down
the board…
A MG42 opens
up with it’s ZZZZZZRRRP! Sends about a
hundred fifty rounds at the cops and infantry, shredding through them!
The
remaining two Warrior IFV’S rapidly turn about.
They charge toward the enemy, turrents swivel about, and center on the
flea market-and cut loose with 30mm autocannon fire!
The MG42
sends another burst at the armored fighting vehicles, tinking off the armor and
hitting softer components like grenade launchers, sensors.
Sabine
Leersen aims her M14 at the Warrior looking for the soft points and
shoots. She picks at the optics, viewing
ports, grenade launchers and other weak points of the British light armor; they
pop smoke to obscure themselves and FIRE autocannon through, but not accurately
as the snipers and machine gunners have obviously damaged their thermal
imagers…
Kayla
watches with glee as the NATO forces are engaged by friendly parties unknown to
her-which become known as that Deputy Sargeant enters…
“I can get
you out of here-Geauga Volunteers can handle these Brits-there’s no drones to
buzz about our heads, blowing us up now.”
“Won’t last
y’know; they got all kinds of jet fighters that bomb whatever the fuck’s
around.”
“Where’s the
Sheriff?”
“Dead. He’s got a copy of the drone plans-take em’,
use em’, send em’ wherever… give me a minute here with this… motherfucker.”
“Make it
fast.” The Deputy Sargeant grabs the
thumb drive, the M4 that was Kayla’s-extra gun to her-and awaits outside. She looks at Tom Jager straight in the eye…
“I’m getting
these plans out, Jager-by the time you’re shot up with stem cells an’ up and
walking and fucking again the skies will be filled with our drones from sea to
shining sea, an’ then when your government falls, an’ you’re on the run-dirty,
starving, desperate to get outta the country, we’ll meet again. And I’ll show you what I know about
interrogation… show you everything I’ve learned from you. That’s why I’m not
killing you: I’m going to destroy you. I
promise you when this is over you will know the difference.”
Kayla hits
Tom in the head with the butt of her M14, knocks him out cold. She gets up, turns and just has to give the
Mossad agent a look and he grabs the M240 and they exit out the back.
GEAUGA-PORTAGE COUNTY BORDER
Kayla and
Avrim are in a US Army HUMMV looking like US Army; they look back in the
distance at Chesterland, see the flashes and thumps and screaming jet engines
of NATO and US Air Force jets blowing Chesterland apart. Carrie Messing is driving; a 30 year old
former college student, former waitress…
“I hope what
you got is worth it. We used up the last
of our resources getting you out.”
“I
know. I lost the last of my unit just
getting here.”
Carrie looks
through the mirror at her at a stop sign, “you must really have something…
we’ll meet up with the rest of the Volunteers someplace in Summit County.”
“Summit
County Rangers?” Kayla perks up, “heard
they’ve managed to more than hold they own so far.”
“Yep they
have. Don’t worry, we’ll get you taken
care of soon enough. Just remember to
act like Army until we get there okay?”
“Hear that
Avrim-look like a called back reservist instead of a fuckin’ sellout.”
Avrim
whispers in Kayla’s ear, “perhaps where we’re going looking like a fuckin’
sellout may be the way to go.”
Kayla rears
back, glares at Heinz.
CHESTERLAND
The town’s
essentially gone; fires consume what bullets, rockets and bombs haven’t simply
annihilated. A Blackhawk Helicopter
lands and General Warburg, NATO commander steps out to a shot up, bombed out
little American town. One of many. He looks about, sees the surviving officer
approach; a British Lieutenant.
“General
Warburg we had that militia lady trapped in that restaurant but then some other
bloody militia came to her aid-it was bloody balls up until flyboys came in,
bombed everything in sight-nearly got my own Warrior, Sir.”
“Any of the
team I sent in survive?”
“Yes
Sir-one, got gutshot a few times. Saw
the whole thing; him and some Israeli were negotiating when the lass opened up
with a suppressed sniper rifle, took out the IFV commanders, shot his teammates
over… would be there but there’s a bomb crater now. “
“Where’s Tom
Jager?”
“Being
tended to-we’re about to fly him out.”
So Warburg goes over to the medivac chopper with Tom Jager being lifted
in, unconscious-too bad. They’ll be
having words when he recovers of course.
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