William W. Johnstone (25 page)

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Authors: Phoenix Rising

BOOK: William W. Johnstone
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C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-SIX
“Is that a helicopter I hear?” John asked.
“It is, yes,” Jake said. “I hear it, but I don't see it.”
“It's close,” John said. “Look, they hear it too.” John pointed to the men who were standing by the barricade. They could be seen searching the sky and talking to each other, obviously looking for the helicopter.
Suddenly a Huey popped up just over the roof of the houses along the beach. “Damn! That's our Huey!” John said. “Who the hell is flying it?”
Jake laughed. “It has to be Bob,” he said.
The helicopter did a quick pass by the barricade, and Jake saw an arrow streaming down.
“What the hell? He's shooting arrows at them?”
There was a loud explosion where the arrow hit, the blast big enough to throw several of the refrigerators around.
Jake laughed out loud. “C-4!” he said. “They've put C-4 on the arrows!”
The helicopter made another pass. This time Jake and John could see tracer bullets coming from the cargo door. There was also a second arrow fired, and another explosion.
Some of the men at the refrigerator barricade started shooting back at the helicopter, but the M-240 in the cargo door of the Huey was too much for them and those who weren't killed began running. The Huey chased down the runners and fired again, until the area was completely cleared of any would-be bandits.
“That old man can handle it, can't he?” John said.
“Phoenix One, this is Goodnature, do you copy?”
“Goodnature?” Jake replied.
“It was my call sign in Vietnam. I figured I may as well use it again,” Bob said.
“Roger, Goodnature,” Jake answered.
“If you can negotiate the barricade, I'll fly cover for you back to base,” Bob said.
“We're on our way,” Jake said.
“If you can't get through, get out and move one or two aside,” Bob said. “Do not get off the road—if you do you'll get stuck axle deep in the sand.”
Starting the truck, John drove up to the barricades, then stopped. “We're going to have to go around,” he said.
“No,” Jake replied. “Bob lives down here, so I'm sure he knows what he is talking about. We're going to have to push a couple of the refrigerators out of the way.”
John put the truck in neutral, and he and Jake got out and started pushing refrigerators aside until they had opened a path big enough for the truck to get through.
“I think we can do it now,” Jake said.
“Yeah, we've got it made in the shade,” John said with a happy laugh.
Jake heard the solid thunk of the bullet hitting John. Blood and brain detritus erupted from the wound on the side of John's head and he fell toward Jake.
Jake caught him, and held him up.
“John! John!” he called.
John didn't reply, and as Jake made a closer examination of him, he realized that he was dead.
Another bullet whistled by Jake's head, coming so close that he could hear the pop of as it snapped by his ear. The only weapon Jake had with him was the pistol he was wearing on his belt. He jumped behind the refrigerator then tried to look for the shooter. The only thing he knew was that the shot had come from the row of houses nearest the beach.
Jake could hear the radio in his truck, but he couldn't get to it.
“Phoenix, this is Goodnature. Keep your head down.”
A moment later the Huey passed low overhead with the machine gun firing from one cargo door and an M-16 from the other. It zoomed up over the beach houses, then made a circle back. This time there was no fire coming from the helicopter.
“Phoenix, target neutralized. You are clear to proceed,” Bob's voice said.
Jake waved at the helicopter; then he picked John's body up and put it in the cab of the truck. Starting the truck, he managed to pick through the rubble and residue until he was on the other side of the barricade. Now, with an empty highway, and the truck running on gasoline so that the engine was at full efficiency, he opened up. Running at eighty miles an hour, it was all the Huey could do to stay with him, until he pulled in to the fort.
The Huey landed shortly after Jake arrived.
“Jake!” Karin said, running to him as he stepped down from the truck. She threw her arms around him in gratitude over his survival, but her joy over seeing Jake was mollified when she realized that John was dead.
Ellen greeted Bob and Gaye greeted Jerry with equal enthusiasm as they stepped out of the helicopter.
“I was so worried about you,” Ellen said.
“Why were you worried? Not one bullet came close.”
“I wasn't worried about you getting shot. I was worried that you might not be as good a pilot as you think you are.”
“Trust me, Ellen,” Jake said. “I've never seen a helicopter handled better. For an old man, he did damn well.”
“Poor John,” Karin said.
“That's two that we've lost,” Jake said. “Clay and John. I don't plan on us losing anyone else.”
Fort Morgan—Thursday, November 22, Thanksgiving Day
In the next three months after John was killed, the men and women who called themselves Phoenix turned the fort into a comfortable and sustainable community. The garden was productive and Jake, harking back to his Amish background, led the others in canning food. They had acquired the jars necessary by raiding the many empty houses up and down the beach.
The motel was complete and comfortable, each unit equipped with a fireplace for warmth in the coming winter. They also had electricity, James having installed solar panels complete with batteries, a charge controller, and inverters. That gave them heat and electricity, and with the desalination device, they had an unlimited supply of water. Bob had even brought his TV down and hooked it up to the same satellite dish he had used back at his house. The others had teased him about it, but he said it comforted him to see it, because it gave the illusion of normalcy.
Jerry and James kept the little community well stocked with fish, fowl, and game, and on this Thanksgiving Day, they were preparing a feast equal to any they had ever enjoyed before.
“Before this, Thanksgiving only really meant two things to me,” Bob said. “Food and football.”
“You got that right,” Deon said.
“But this year I believe it is more meaningful to me than it has ever been in the past. I mean, when you think about it, our Thanksgiving here is not all that different from the first Thanksgiving. We can truly be thankful that we have survived this long and now are at the point where we are not only surviving, we are thriving.”
“Yeah, well, there is the food too,” Willie said. “Those geese smell so good my stomach is really growling.”
“We have a lot to be thankful for,” Jake said. “So if nobody minds, I'm going to say a blessing before we eat.”
“I think that would be a very good idea,” Bob said.
“Jake,” Becky said, “maybe you could add an extra blessing.”
“Sure, I'd be glad to,” he said. “What is it for?”
Becky looked over at Karin. “You can tell them,” she said. “I've been thinking about it, and praying about it, and I'm all right with it.”
“Are you sure?” Karin asked.
Becky nodded. “I am sure,” she said.
Karin smiled. “Folks, we are going to be getting an addition to our little community. Becky is pregnant.”
“What?” Sarah asked. “Who is the father?”
“I don't know,” Becky replied.
“You don't know?”
“Before anyone asks, I already knew about it, and I'm not the father,” Marcus said. He was sitting next to Becky, and he reached out to take her hand in his.
“Do you remember the time when the men came and robbed you, and you found Becky unconscious on the road?” Karin asked. “She was raped. This pregnancy is the result of that.”
“And you are going to have the baby of a rapist?” Sarah asked, incredulously.
“Sarah, you can't be just a little pregnant,” Becky said. “I'm three months pregnant—it has only one possible conclusion.”
“You can abort,” Sarah said.
“I don't want an abortion.”
“But the baby's father is a rapist.”
“And I am its mother,” Becky said. “You cannot hold a child guilty for the sins of its parents. I've thought long and hard about this, and I've kept it secret all these months. The way I look at it, this child, be it boy or girl, is the first link to my future. I will have this child.”
“And we will be here for you,” Ellen said. She looked at Sarah. “Won't we?”
Sarah broke into a smile, then went over to give her aunt a hug. “Yes,” she said. “We will be here for you.”
Gaye and Cille brought the two geese out. They were golden brown and aromatic. The table was also set with carrots and peas, mashed potatoes and biscuits, and scuppernong jelly.
“Jake, before you give your blessing, I have something for you,” Karin said.
Jake looked at Karin with an expression of surprise and concern. “You do?”
Karin laughed. “Don't get nervous, it's not what you think,” she said, and the others, who by now knew of the depth of commitment between Jake and Karin, laughed as well.
“What is it?”
She went into the little cabin that she shared with Julie, then came out with something wrapped in a sweater. Smiling broadly, she opened up the sweater to show what she was holding.
It was a can of root beer.
“Ahhh!” Jake said. “I haven't had a root beer in three months! I love you! I could kiss you!”
Karin laughed. “James found it in one of the houses,” Karin said. “So if you are going to kiss anybody, you need to kiss James.”
“Okay, James, I'll kiss you too,” Jake said. He held up his finger. “But there will be no tongue.”
The others laughed again.
“A handshake will do,” James said.
Jake took the root beer from Karin, kissed her, then carried it over to the table and put it down lovingly by his plate.
“I'm sorry there's not enough to go around for all of you,” he said.
“That's all right, Jake. I've gotten used to drinking water,” Deon said. “It's a lot healthier for you anyway.”
Bowing his head, Jake began the blessing.
“
Unser himmlischer Vater
—Our Heavenly Father, I ask that you bless these wonderful people today for their generous hearts, helping hands, and loving souls. And we thank you for the women who prepared the meal that will sustain us through this day.
Segnen Sie dieses Essen zu unserer Verwendung, und wir zu Ihrem Dienst
—bless this food to our use, and ourselves to thy service. Amen.”
He had included the German phrases in the blessing because it was an Amish prayer, the same prayer Mr. Yoder had prayed when Jake had gone back home to help build the barn. He wondered for a moment about his parents, and added a silent prayer for them.
“Now, let's eat,” he said, popping open the can of root beer.
 
 
After a very satisfying meal, Bob went back into his and Ellen's quarters. As he did every day, he turned on the TV, then hit search.
Suddenly the search stopped and a picture filled the screen.
“Hey!” he shouted. He ran to the door and stuck his head out. “Hey! We've got TV!”
“What?”
“We've got TV!” Bob shouted again.
The others came running down to Bob's apartment ; then all of them crowded in, finding seats anywhere they could.
At the moment the screen was blue, with the words
STAND BY
.
The standby card went away to be replaced by a picture. The man in the picture, short blond hair, cherubic face, slightly pudgy, was familiar to them all.
“It's George Gregoire!” Jake said.
Hello, America.
This is a simulcast over shortwave radio, satellite radio, and satellite TV. That's right, I'm back on TV, though the size of my TV audience is probably less than a cable access show of the joys of scrap-booking. Nevertheless, I am extremely proud of our little group of technicians who have managed to put our show up on the bird so that those with electricity and a TV can see us.
First, I will bring you up to date on the latest news we have been able to gather.
It appears that the so-called Islamic Republic of Enlightenment holds only Washington, D. C., and Detroit. The fact that they hold our capital city has given them a great deal of cachet in the rest of the world, but we, here in America, know that they are unable to expand beyond that. Already there have been isolated and uncoordinated raids against the Enlightened ones, none of which, at this point, have been much more than a nuisance. In the meantime the Enlighteneds' atrocities against our people, especially the women and children, continue.
Ohmshidi is alive and well, somewhere, we know not where. From time to time he will make a radio broadcast to rally his base.
Really? Rally his base?
Tell me, friends, does he even have a base any longer? I think not. I think that once we reestablish control, put decent Americans back to work, and reconstitute our government, we will then have time to find Ohmshidi and bring him to justice for all the crimes he has committed.
That means we have much to do, America, and since last I spoke to you much has been done. I have been contacted on 5110LSB by several groups of brave Americans who have banned together to fight this evil that has come into our midst. I will not disclose at this time how many groups I have been in contact with, where they are, or what their strength is. I will only say that for the first time since Ohmshidi was elected president, I am feeling optimistic.
It is my sincere belief that there are many, many more groups than have yet made contact with me, so I feel that, even though Americans made the colossal mistake of sending an arrogant, incompetent fool to the White House, those same Americans are now prepared to rectify that mistake.
During those days when we existed as a democratic republic, we often heard one party or another—whichever party was out of office—adopt the political slogan, “Take back America.”
Well, my friends, this is no longer empty political rhetoric. This is a real, and vital, battle cry. And I urge you, with all that is in my being, to hold yourselves in readiness until we can coalesce as a mighty revolutionary army to do that very thing.
Now you may well ask the question, from whom are we to take back our country? Is it from Ohmshidi and his State Protective Service? Or is it from the roving bands of brigands and thugs, people from among us who prey upon the weak and helpless, Americans by birth, but not by any moral code that we all hold dear?
The answer, my friends, is we must be prepared to do battle with all of them. I urge those of you who are watching this program, and those of you who are within sound of my voice, to establish contact with the Brotherhood of Liberty, join forces in this new revolution.
“What do you think, Jake?” Deon asked. “Should we contact them?”
“How would we do that?” Jake asked.
“He said he could be contacted on fifty-one ten LSB,” Willie said. “I think we could get through. We've got a pretty good antenna system here now. I have it attached to the top of the lighthouse tower.
“Alright, give it a try.”
“This is Phoenix, calling on fifty-one ten LSB. Does anyone read me? Over.”
Willie released the switch and listened, but got no response, so he tried again.
“This is Phoenix, calling on fifty-one ten LSB. Does anyone read? Over.”
“Phoenix, this is Firebase Freedom. Over.”
“Hey, we got someone!” Willie said.
Everyone gathered around the radio then to listen.
“Phoenix, this is Firebase Freedom. Go ahead.”
“Tell him we are trying to make contact with the Brotherhood of Liberty,” Jake said.
“Firebase Freedom, we are trying to make contact with the Brotherhood of Liberty. Over.”
“For what purpose, Phoenix? Over.”
Jake reached for the microphone, and Willie handed to him. “Firebase Freedom, we want to discuss mutual goals,” he said. “Over.”
“This is a different voice, over. Identify yourself.”
“This is Phoenix.” Jake paused for a moment, then looked at the others. “Six,” he added. “Do you copy? I am Phoenix Six.”
“All right,” Deon said. “The six is back.” He, Marcus, John, and Willie gave each other high fives.
“What is six?” Cille asked.
“It means the commanding officer,” Bob said with a broad grin. “I'm glad to see that some things haven't changed since I retired.”
“Roger, Phoenix Six,” Firebase Freedom responded. “If you don't mind, I would like to authenticate.”
“How are we going to do that without an SOI?”
“I authenticate silent seven.”
Jake released the mic button and looked at the others. “Does anyone know what the hell he is talking about?”
“Respond, faithful five,” Bob said.
“What?”
“Respond with ‘faithful five,'” Bob repeated.
Jake keyed the mic again. “Faithful five. I say again, faithful five.”

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