Apache Dawn by - (dark books to read .txt) 📖

Cooper took a long pull from his cup and nodded his thanks to the young man who held the water jug. He and Charlie stood with the Sons of Liberty leadership, staring down at the map of occupied Boston. They were in the local headquarters—an abandoned brownstone on the edge of Cambridge.

They’d been discussing the strategy the Sons were using to harass and disrupt the German supply line. Cooper was impressed by the colonel’s boldness so far. The Sons of Liberty had been such a thorn in Jerry’s side that they’d been forced to erect forward-operating bases—like the one taken out in JFK Park—all around the city. It was spreading the German presence thin.

“So, you can see,” said the colonel, pointing at the map, “we’ve got positions here, here, and here.”

“It’s not enough, sir,” said Cooper. He hated to say it, but there it was. “On our way in, we observed transport ships out in the bay—and they were using Logan to fly materiel and most likely troops in from Europe.”

The older man grunted. “Don’t I know it. I’ll give ‘em one thing, they’re wicked efficient. As soon as we take out an outpost or steal a load of supplies, they replace them with two more somewhere else.”

“How are you set for manpower?” said Charlie, looking around the room. “I didn’t see all that many shooters.”

The colonel grinned. “Most of my men are out on patrol—it’s nighttime, and that’s our time—and Jerry knows it. We’re getting new recruits every day. It’s just a trickle now, but the more they tighten their grip on the city, the more our ranks swell. Mark my words, Master Chief, we’re gonna take back this town, with help from outside or not.”

“I believe you will, sir. But my priority is bigger than Boston.”

“Yes, the professor.” The colonel crossed his arms. “I don’t know the man.” He shrugged. “But hey, we’ll put the word out. We’ve lost a lot of good people to this damn flu. Must be half the town is in bed sick, now. From what we can tell it’s really taking a toll out west.” He shook his head. “Damn Koreans.”

“Hey! Everybody shaddup!” someone shouted. A radio was turned on in the background. “It’s the new president!”

“—likely know all too well, we are beset by a host of trials: the North Korean invasion of the West Coast, the starvation and suffering of our people across the land, and above all, the influenza which is gripping our nation and sickening so many of us.”

Cooper set his cup down and leaned over the map, willing the location of the professor to appear to him. He stared at the labyrinth of streets as he listened to his new commander in chief.

“Let me assure you, I will not rest until we as a people have utterly destroyed each of these threats. In order to do this, we must have a functioning government again, not the tyrannical boondoggle that has been created by Vice President Barron.”

“Preachin’ to the choir, brother,” muttered Charlie.

The President’s voice rose in strength. “He illegally seized power in a time of national emergency to advance his twisted political ambition—this runs counter to everything our founding fathers fought and bled for, and insults the sacrifice that every patriot in uniform has made for this country since the Revolution. “

Cooper looked up at the men gathered around the radio. Modern-day Minutemen. Scions of the Revolution. He grinned.

“I will not stand for this affront to our liberties and will stop at nothing to bring this criminal and his co-conspirators to justice!”

“Colonel, thank you for the refreshments. I think it’s time me and my boys get on with our mission. You’ve seen the radios and gear we brought…?”

“Yes, thank you, Lieutenant. We’ll put them to good use. I’ve already started to distribute the good stuff to the boys in the field. You be sure to spread the word about us and what we’re doing when you get back to…wherever you came from.”

“Will do, sir.” Cooper picked up his rifle. His team gathered gear and put their game faces on. “Let’s go find us a professor, boys.”

“You son of a bitch!” hissed Harold James Barron, President of the United States, as he listened to Orren Harris, President of the United States. Harold was lying on a bed, draped in sheets and blankets that bore the Presidential Seal and were far too heavy to be comfortable. He lay there sweating through President Harris’ speech. Harold was too weak—no thanks to Jayne—to lift an arm and shut off the damn radio.

Jayne left it on…bitch did that on purpose, he groused to himself.

“To that end,” continued that imposter’s voice, “I am hereby declaring that in Denver, a new seat of power shall be established during the current crisis. I urge any and all military units and commanders who are loyal to the Constitution and to the America of your birth—join us, as we formulate a strategy to take back our country. Patriot forces are growing daily in number as more and more of our brothers and sisters in arms throw off the shackles of Mr. Barron’s illegal reign and join the fight.”

“Stupid…sanctimonious…stuck-up…” Harold sputtered in an impotent rage. “Arrrghh!” he roared in frustration, unable to move. She left me so weak…her and Reginald.

“Our brave men and women in uniform, scattered around the globe, fighting for your very lives, now have a new mission. Get home. Get to Denver. Take back your country. I, as your Commander in Chief, therefore order each and every one of you to take control of whatever assets you can and make all speed for home.”

“Well isn’t that nice,” Harold spat.

“Commandeer aircraft and fly, capture boats and sail—steal a submarine—I don’t care, just come home. Leave nothing but scorched earth in your wake. I will not tolerate countries around the world rejoicing over our misfortune, after this great nation has done so much, for so many, for so long. Leave your bases and destroy anything you can’t take with you…”

“So help me, when I get out of this bed—when I’ve dealt with Jayne and Reginald—you…are…next!” screamed the bedridden president.