Martial Law (29 page)

“All I know is the declaration of martial law is synonymous with the suspension of our Constitutional rights,” said Susan. “Americans should rise up in arms if that happens.” The group sat quietly for a moment and then Morgan spoke up. He finished his drink and indicated for J.J. to pour him another.

“Assuming,
arguendo
, that Jade Helm was an extensive military exercise for the very circumstances we find ourselves in today, Mrs. Quinn, would you prefer chaos or control?” Morgan sat back in his chair and studied Susan. She seemed unfazed by the question.

Susan, taking a deep breath, looked Morgan directly in the eye and answered, “If given the choice between losing my constitutional rights—and the freedoms those rights afford me—in the name of controlling the chaos to which you refer, I’ll choose freedom.”

Chapter 54

Tuesday, September 6, 2016

10:15 a.m.

1st Battalion, 25th Marines HQ

Fort Devens, Massachusetts

“Gentlemen, I’m going to give you both the option to go home and turn away from what we have set into motion,” said Brad to his two most trusted officers—Gunny Falcone and CWO Shore. “The actions we take today may ensure our survival and the potential security of the future leaders of our nation. But to some, our actions may constitute treason. I want you to have the opportunity to leave. Go home to your families or friends. I will understand and say that I am proud to have served as your commanding officer.”

Gunny Falcone walked a few paces away and then returned to Brad. “Forgetting the fact that there’s nothing out there for me, I wouldn’t leave. I am loyal to you, this unit, and America. I believe wholeheartedly in what we’re doing. Regardless of my suspicions surrounding the events that brought us here, I will continue to devote my life to protecting the Constitution.”

“I’m in, hondo percent!” said Shore.
Hondo
was Shore’s way of saying one hundred.

“Gentlemen, I’m humbled by your loyalty and couldn’t be prouder to serve with you. We have a limited amount of time to logistically reposition our assets. When that jackass Pearson returns on Thursday, he’ll find a facility at quarter strength in both troops and firepower. Agreed?”

“Absolutely, Colonel,” replied Gunny Falcone.

“Good. The first order of business is to speak personally with each of the Mechanics. Look them in the eye. Confirm their commitment while keeping them on a need-to-know basis. Over the next two days, they’ll gather up the critical assets and weaponry necessary to maintain this unit at battalion strength, but housed in a different location. By dusk tomorrow evening, we’ll start quietly rolling out of here under the auspices of traveling to Boston to assist local law enforcement and for the protection of those FEMA fucks. In reality, we’ll move the Mechanics to Prescott Peninsula.”

“We’ll make it happen, sir!” said Shore.

“I’ve been in contact with our fellow patriots and oath keepers throughout the military community,” said Brad. “They’re all making similar arrangements. How many soldiers will follow in our cause is unknown. But those in the Pentagon and the so-called
Western White House
who underestimate the number of soldiers who will stand by the Constitution against all enemies, foreign and domestic, will do so at their peril. I believe there are far more military personnel who will defy tyrannical orders infringing upon the constitutional rights of freedom-loving Americans than there are those who will blindly follow such orders. As for those who don’t stand with us, let’s hope they go home to their families rather than stand against us.”

“Sir, once we pull out, what will you do?” asked Gunny Falcone. Brad had thought of this extensively. His battalion would lose more than half its personnel and deployable assets over the next forty-eight hours. Someone would need to provide Agent Pearson an explanation.

“I’ll stay here and keep Pearson occupied. There are already defections across the country. More soldiers go AWOL every day. He won’t be surprised.”

“What about the equipment and weaponry?” asked Shore.

“For one thing, he doesn’t know what we’re supposed to have. I trust that you two can make the records look like shit.”

“They already do.” Gunny Falcone laughed.

“Great, I guess,” said Brad. “Remember, he’s not military. He’s a pencil-pushing prick that’s learning on the job. As this thing continues, which I believe it might for months to come, he will grow bored and either move on or go home himself.”

“Maybe you can take him to Boston and tell him to wait on a street corner in Roxbury,” said Shore. “He can explain to the locals that he’s from the government, and he’s there to help.” All of the men laughed at Shore’s bastardized quotation of President Ronald Reagan’s famous statement.

In a 1986 news conference, President Reagan famously said
the nine most terrifying words in the English language are: I’m from the government, and I’m here to help
.

Brad thought for a moment.
Yeah, maybe that’s what I’ll do
.

Chapter 55

Tuesday, September 6, 2016

7:13 p.m.

Triple Q Ranch, Prescott Peninsula

Quabbin Reservoir, Massachusetts

“Hey, girls, guess what?” asked Susan. Rebecca and Penny came over to where she was sitting with Sabs on the couch. They were all ears.

“What do we get if we guess it right?” asked Penny.

Susan laughed at the young negotiator. “Well, you’ll probably never guess, but I can tell you it’ll be loads of fun for you girls!”

“Tell us now! Tell us now!” exclaimed a hopping Rebecca. The girls looked up at their mom like baby chicks would plead for that big fat worm in her mouth.
Chirp, chirp, chirp
.

Sabs laughed and commented, “There is no end to their enthusiasm.”

“Very true,” said Susan. She pulled the girls in close. “Tomorrow, we’ll be getting lots of visitors to stay with us, and one of them has a cute little French bulldog—Winnie the Frenchie.”

“Is it for us?” asked Rebecca innocently.

“No, but I’m sure they’ll let you play with her lots. How does that sound?”

“Are you serious?” asked soon-to-be teenager Penny.

“Yes, honey, sometime tomorrow you’ll have a new playmate!”

“Awesome!” exclaimed Rebecca.

J.J. entered the room, holding a couple of board games. “Ladies, who’s up for a game of Chutes and Ladders or Sorry?”

Donald and Susan discussed the possibilities of having to bug out with children. If you had a family with children, a bug-out situation was not as simple as grabbing your bags and hitting the front door. They recognized that kids were not wired for quick, organized reaction. Their needs were far more complicated than adults. One regret Susan had was not teaching the girls more about the possibilities of a disaster and a prolonged stay away from home. When she and Donald sat down with the girls on Monday, it went better than expected. Oddly, it was Rebecca, who was fairly new to school at age seven, who protested the most. She was very social, and not being around children for an extended period would take its toll on her.

Children of every age need to be adequately sheltered, well-fed, and entertained. This last aspect of prepping was overlooked by many. The Quinns made a habit of playing board games together once a week—
Friday night game night
. Whenever the family took a liking to a particular game, Susan bought one for 100 Beacon and a backup for 1PP. Lately, the game of the week was either Sorry or Chutes and Ladders. It appeared J.J. was up to the task.

“I wanna play Sorry!” exclaimed Penny. She ran to J.J.’s side as if being first in line would guarantee her choice.

“No,” protested Rebecca. “I never win. I want to play Chutes and Ladders!”

J.J. looked at the women and shrugged. Susan smiled and shrugged back.

Sabs laughed and whispered, “He’s in a pickle now.” Both women clammed up, leaving the negotiation up to J.J.

“Okay, I’ll make a deal with you guys,” started J.J. “We’ll play both games if you let me read a bedtime story to you tonight. How’s that?”

“Deal!” the girls responded in unison. They grabbed J.J. by the arm and escorted him toward the kitchen. As they walked away, the negotiations escalated.

“J.J., I want you to read us Harry Potter.”

“No, please read
Charlotte’s Web
again.”

“Not two nights in a row. Bad form!”

“How about
Peter Pan
?”

“Yeah!”

Susan laughed and leaned back on the sofa. Sabs did the same and grabbed a pillow to snuggle. After they were done laughing, Susan spoke.

“J.J. is great with the girls. He has changed so much over the last several years. I’ll never forget the first few times he came over to the house. He wanted to bring the girls a gift, but he was never quite sure of what was age appropriate. He must have gauged their reaction and studied popular gifts for young girls on the Internet. The gifts became huge hits with the girls, as did J.J. Donald and I began to wonder if he was coming to visit us or play with Becca and Penny.”

Sabs propped her right leg on the table and then crossed it with her prosthetic leg. She appeared to unconsciously tap her left leg with her prosthetic left arm.
Or was it deliberate
?

“The girls always appear thankful for the love and attention they are given,” said Sabs. “Material things don’t seem to rule their lives.”

“As the girls learned to speak, we taught them four words to help them learn communication skills—
please
,
thank you
,
all done
, and
more.
”

“More?”

“That is comical, isn’t it? We spend our days trying to teach them to be thankful, yet we encourage them to use the word
more
. However, that enabled us to teach them the meaning of the word
no
.”

“Makes sense,” said Sabs.

“We live in a world of selfishness and entitlement. We wanted to raise the girls to be aware of the basics they might take for granted, the opportunities they are given, and the experiences they enjoy. Believe it or not, we knew it would prepare the girls for a situation like the one we’re in now. By teaching them to appreciate the basics, they live a life of humility, generosity, and happiness. It’ll serve them well if they have to grow up in a post-apocalyptic world.”

Susan drank some of her water and listened to the playful banter coming from the kitchen. Sabs was silent for a moment, and then Susan noticed she was crying.

“Sabs, are you okay?”

“Yes,” she replied, once again tapping her left arm on her left leg. “It’s ironic that I lost my arm and leg saving children. On the one hand, it was the greatest moment of my life. On the other hand, not so much. For years afterward, while I was thankful to be alive, I held a bitterness of what I was left with. By saving those children, I thought I’d never get a chance to hold kids of my own.”

“Sabs, you did a great thing in Fallujah that day. You’re a real hero.”

Sabs continued. “Now I have J.J. in my life, and I see how much he enjoys your girls. My dream has been to find a man who loves me unconditionally like he does, and have beautiful babies with him.” Sabs began to sob now, unable to control the tears.

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Chapter 56

Wednesday, September 7, 2016

7:13 a.m.

Triple Q Ranch, Prescott Peninsula

Quabbin Reservoir, Massachusetts

“Rise and shine with a good cup of joe,” said Abbie to J.J. and Sabs on the front porch of 1PP. They toasted their cups to Abbie.

“Good morning,” replied J.J.

“You guys look serious this morning,” said Abbie. “Everything okay?” She leaned against the railing and enjoyed a sip. If it weren’t for the circumstances, 1PP would be a very relaxing place.

“It’s fine,” replied Sabs. “J.J. is being overprotective.” Sabs finished off her coffee and stood up.

“Brad had to pull the bulk of the security detail to gather up your dad’s friends and to clean out Devens,” said J.J. “Sabs volunteered for gate duty to fill the void.” J.J. crossed his arms and stared into the woods. He was obviously upset.

“Listen. Going on patrol with the guys is routine and probably a one time thing
although
I am perfectly capable, you know. I will always be a soldier.”

“I get that, Sabs, but there has been more activity at the gate since the helicopter’s arrival.”
Ouch
.

“I’m sorry about that, J.J.,” defended Abbie. “My father said we had just enough fuel to get here, and the drive from Norwood would have been very dangerous. The south side of Boston was falling apart Saturday night. Twenty-four hours later would have been worse.”

“Please don’t get me wrong, Abbie,” said J.J., staring intently at the Sikorsky. “That chopper landing here Monday night might as well have been
the rockets’ red glare
. In a world with no electricity, a sound as unique as a helicopter probably drew attention from miles around. I’ve already heard that men have approached the front gate with questions.”

“Wayward hunters, J.J.,” interrupted Sabs. “Stop making Abbie feel bad.” The front porch was filled with awkward silence. J.J. shifted uneasily in his chair as Sabs got her gear together. Abbie chose to remain silent.
He was right, of course.

“I’m sorry, Abbie,” said J.J. finally. “And I’m sorry to you too, Sabs. I was out of line.”

Sabs walked over to J.J. and pulled his head against her hip. She scruffed his hair like he was a child.

“I am a soldier. I have some limitations that, thanks to you, J.J., enable me to continue to be what I am—a
sheepdog
. Somebody has to be on the front line. I have every confidence in the people I love to take care of themselves, but none of you have ever been in combat. You may not be capable of killing another human being, whether in self-defense or otherwise.”