Liberty or Tyranny (17 page)

“You won’t believe this,” Strovenov said, more than a hint of glee in his voice. “For some unexplainable reason, the president has gotten an entirely new bug up his ass and has decided to give us a free hand in dealing with the famine and lawlessness. He promises Washington will be hands-off for six months.”

General Myers sat up in his chair, a look of disbelief on his face. “What?”

“He didn’t explain a damn thing, just handed me a letter giving all branches of the military, including the Guard and Coast Guard, full authority over the task of providing security for American civilians and ending the famine. We also have authority to take over oil wells and refineries during the six months period and any farmland we deem necessary to feed the people. Nothing in his letter or his spoken words in the Oval Office said a damn thing about what to do with those oil wells and refineries after the six months period is over or who to hand them over to.” He laughed. “But to hell with that. We have six months to feed millions of people and to protect them from the violent criminals that are now prowling the streets and countryside of this nation of ours. Thank God Almighty.”

“Thank God is right,” Myers agreed. “Too damn late for tens of millions of Americans, but thank God nonetheless. Must’ve been that petition all the general officers signed.”

Strovenov remained quiet for a few seconds. “I’m not sure why he did it. All I know is we have a hell of a lot of work to do and we need to get it done yesterday. The Joint Chiefs of Staff will be sending out a flurry of policy changes down the chain of command sometime tonight, and the resulting stream of orders from COs will probably continue on for days. You can tell the colonel in Florida his ass is off the hook for now. Tell him to roll up his sleeves and get busy serving the American people. That little CIA manhunt down there is off. Hunting season is closed. Tell him to expend his resources hunting down real criminals and leave the innocent civilians alone.”

Meyers smiled. “Yes Sir! Unless there is something else, I would like to cut this conversation off now and get to work.”

“I understand. We have a long night ahead of us up here in Washington too. I’ll get back with you as soon as possible.”

~~~

General Myers got back on the satellite phone and explained the new developments to Col. Donovan. “I have no idea what precipitated the sudden 180-degree turn in Washington. I have theories but won’t mention them now. Anyway, we’ll forget the matter of your objection to illegal orders and offering your resignation. You have new orders now, and I expect you to carry them out. Remember, we only have six months to show results. I’m hoping that conditions will be so improved that the president will extend those six months to a year.”

Donovan kept his surging emotions under control. “Yes sir.”

“Good. Unless something drastic comes up again, I expect your reports to go up the normal chain of command from now on. I’m glad you’ll be staying with us.”

Donovan smiled as they ended their conversation. He stepped out of this office and rushed to the communications room. “Call all patrols in. They are ordered to convey their apologies to any civilian they meet along the way for violating their constitutional rights and explain to them that it was all a mistake and that it is safe for them to go back to their homes. No soldiers will bother them.” He turned to several sergeants who had overheard. “I want every off-duty noncom and officer standing in front of HQ at 1800 hours to receive new orders.”

Sergeant Quint Bartow walked in. Smiling, he asked, “Does that mean your ass is out of the sling?”

Donovan answered, “I guess so, since we’ve been ordered to stop terrorizing the innocent people of this county and start feeding and protecting them. The Williams family and the other two are no longer wanted in Washington.”

“Great.” Bartow raised both eyebrows. “Now how do we get word to them? They may be in Georgia before they even know they’re not wanted anymore. And the thing is the people here need some kind of local law enforcement besides the heavy hand of the Army. Those guys were damn sure better than nothing, even the kid.”

“Good question,” Donovan said. “But I don’t have an answer.” He rushed outside to look when he heard a Black Hawk coming in to land. He yelled for Bartow to join him outside.

Donovan watched soldiers spill out of the helicopter, running bent over, carrying their heavy combat loads. Though the Black Hawk was over 100 yards away, he had to yell above the noise. “I’ve been told the spooks were called off hours ago. I don’t believe it. Not yet. Pass the word. Tell all the patrols heading out to check for any sign the CIA is still working the area. I want to know the minute there is anything new.”

Bartow yelled above the noise, “Yes sir.”

Donovan thought for a moment, then spoke again. “Radio Lieutenant Herzing at the farm on the lake and tell him he’ll be getting more manpower and equipment sometime tomorrow. This long winter has to end sometime. The civilians need to be ready to plant every inch of that land as soon as they deem it safe to do so. There can’t be too many more freezing nights left for this year. If there is, we must be entering another Ice Age.”

“Yes sir. I doubt that.” He raised an eyebrow. “If that’s the case, it would probably finish off the human race.”

Ignoring the sergeant’s last comment, Donovan added, “Get a few teams to reach out to other farmers in the area and see what we can do for them. I know they need more fuel, but what else can we do? Whenever soldiers have contact with civilians, I want them to ask about criminal activity and what their most pressing needs are. If they say they need protection, we’ll have to give it to them by placing a team on location until the troublemakers are IDed and apprehended. That’s it for now.”

“Do you want me to wait until the officers are given your orders at 1800 hours?”

Donovan shook his head. “No. Get on it right now. We can’t wait until then. Just fill them in on your activities after the meeting, so they’ll know what you’ve accomplished so far and not duplicate your efforts. If any officer gets on your case before then, just tell them you’re following my orders and they’ll be filled in at the meeting.”

“Yes sir.” Bartow rushed into HQ to begin his many tasks.

~~~

Two weeks later.

Nate looked at the measly small pile of food sitting on a log: a small bag of rice and another of beans. “Well people, that’s all we have left.” He looked at the others who were all sitting in a circle looking at him. He half smiled. “Unless one of you is holding out.”

Only Brian had anything to say. “Nope.”

“That settles it,” Deni said. “One or two of us will have to risk going to Mel’s retreat or the farm. We have no choice.”

Atticus scratched at his gray beard. “I’d just the same die of lead poisoning as starve.”

“I vote with Atticus,” Tyrone said. “Except I think we might as well all go together, instead of just Nate and Deni.” He looked at Deni. “I’m sure that’s what you meant when you said one or two of us. But I think we should all go.”

“Yeah,” Brian said. “That is if I get a vote.” He looked at Nate.

Nate stood and turned his back to all of them, looking out into the swamp. He rested his hand on his holstered pistol, thinking. A few seconds later, he faced them and said, “We haven’t heard any aircraft lately, no gunfire, not a single soldier or even a boot track. There’s no sign that they’re hunting us anymore.”

“I think you’ve already made your decision,” Deni said. “But will it be just the two of us or everyone?”

“We’ll all go,” Nate answered. “But you and I’ll leave the others several miles back and go in slow and easy. We’ll check on Mel’s bunker and cave first. If we find no sign the soldiers have been there, you and I’ll go on to the farm and check it out, moving in slow and easy. We see so much as a boot track we’ll turn around and get the hell out of there. The food at Mel’s place will get us by for a while.”

“I sure wish we could move back home,” Brian said. “Looks like it’s starting to warm up now. We could get a good crop in if we get seeds in the ground soon.”

“You’re not the only one that’s homesick, Brian.” Tyrone glanced at Atticus. “This living in the woods shit is hard on me and Atticus both.”

“Yeah, I’m too old for this.” Atticus had a gleam in his eye as he looked at the others. “But I’m not complaining. I can take it if you kids can.”

“That settles it then.” Nate snatched up his rifle where it leaned against a nearby tree. “I’ll check the squirrel snares and gather them up. Hopefully we’ll have a few squirrels to eat before we go.”

Brian sighed. “Damn. I sure hope this is the last time we have to eat game meat. Right now I feel like it would be worth taking on the whole damn U.S. Army to get a little decent food.”

Atticus chuckled quietly, sure not to make too much noise. “I think you’ll change your mind if there really are soldiers waiting for us there.”

“Maybe.” Brian pulled his pack close to him and started putting lighter items in the bottom of the main compartment. “Let’s get packed while Dad’s gone. I don’t hold out much hope for his snares. He’s likely to come back with no squirrels at all.”

Tyrone stood and checked the safety on his rifle. “Go ahead and pack. Someone should be standing guard, even if we haven’t seen any soldiers lately.”

~~~

Casper Tanner, 72 years old and showing every year of it, stood next to his tractor, waiting for the sunrise to bring enough light he could see well enough to start plowing 200 acres of the massive 1200-acre field. Looking to the east over the newly plowed field of black peat, rich in nutrients and waiting to grow many kinds of vegetables, his chest swelled with pride over his part in the building of this farm. A 28,000 acre stretch of land was a state wilderness preserve next to Lake Jackson. The farm had come to be known as Lake Jackson Farm, or just the Lake Farm. It was the third such farm built in North Florida with the help of the U.S. Army and National Guard, as well as local citizens. The last two were modeled after the first one that Nate and Second Lieutenant Colby Jacobson, among many others, had designed and built and was already producing food for hungry people.

Lieutenant Jacobson walked up and stood beside him. “No frost. That makes ten mornings in a row.” He looked at the old farmer. “What do you think, Cap?”

Casper’s face wrinkled even more. He spoke without looking at the lieutenant. “I think we should’ve started planting several weeks ago. It’ll take a while for the seeds to sprout, so even if we get another frost or two, it probably won’t hurt nothin’. A little cold’ll harden the sprouts some. But then again, a hard freeze’ll kill ‘em.” He took his straw hat off and scratched his bald head. “Once we get the seeds in the ground, we got to keep them moist, and that ain’t goin’ to be easy without pumps and a real irrigation system. This here primitive system that works by gravity feed from the lake is better than nothin’, but we really do need to have some kind of sprinkler system and pumps to pressurize it. If we can’t keep the seeds moist, they ain’t comin’ up and those that do’ll be stunted and produce little to nothin’.”

Jacobson smiled at the farmer’s backcountry accent. “We’re working on it. Got a couple big pumps coming in soon. But we’re going to be short on diesel fuel for a while. Remember, there’s other farms besides this one.”

“Oh, I ain’t forgot that,” Cap said. “Ain’t the first time I had to make do when I didn’t have much to work with. Come hell or high water, we’ll feed some people. I can promise that. Can’t promise much else. But I can promise that. No way am I goin’ to let that Nate Williams guy down south of here outdo me. Get back out of my way. It’s time for me to crawl up on this rig and get to work.”

Lieutenant Jacobson smiled and rushed back to the little building made of scrap plywood that was his office, headquarters, radio room, and home away from home. A large olive drab canvas tent stood 50 yards behind the building. The men who served under him slept there. Its duplicate stood 50 yards further back. It served as the mess hall. Surrounding the plywood building and tents were six sandbagged machine gun nests. More soldiers patrolled the perimeter of the entire farm, and at least two guards were kept at the gate 24 hours a day. They hadn’t had any trouble with terrorists lately, but they couldn’t afford to take the chance with lax security.

~~~

The American people’s rage over recent revelations stood ready to boil over. It had become common knowledge that President Capinos and the CIA were responsible for drumming up trouble in an effort to destabilize the country further and give Capinos an excuse to grab more power and remove more constitutional limits to government. A tidal wave of demand for a real national election had grown to a fever pitch, and almost everyone knew that if that election didn’t take place soon, there was going to be trouble. The fieriest rhetoric usually came out of the mouths of those who believed the military was with the people. Those who were not so sure, were more restrained out of concern for their safety, but were just as determined to see real national elections by the end of the year.

Reestablishing law and order was still a long way off, and brigands roamed the land almost at will. Occasionally, though, they ran afoul of armed civilians, the National Guard, or the Army. Someone in Washington had decided that the Marines would operate mostly west of the Mississippi, and the Navy and Air Force would concentrate on defending the country from outside threats. The rest of the country was the Army and National Guard’s responsibility. The Coast Guard did what it could wherever it could, especially in Alaska. Hawaii had been left nearly devoid of human life. Early in the onslaught of the plague, world-traveling tourists brought the deadly disease to the islands, and it devastated the population there even more than on the continent of North America. No federal official had dared even set foot on Puerto Rico in over a year. A fly-over told them it was nearly devoid of life. A few Americans thought it would be the place to flee from the plague, not realizing tourists had brought the deadly disease there early on. With business and pleasure travelers jetting around the world, there was no refuge from the plague, except the most remote areas, where there were no airports and no roads. Alaskans living in the bush stopped coming into town for supplies and had to rely completely on hunting and fishing. Their already rugged lives became a constant struggle to survive.