Everyone in the normal parts of town ignored “bums.” They pretended like they weren’t
there. Several Lima officials would have highly sensitive discussions and describe
classified operational details right in front of a “bum.” They assumed the homeless
person was too drunk or stupid to understand what they were saying. How wrong they
were. Pretty soon, the FCorps started to get nasty with Bum Town. It was an open secret
that the Patriots were in there, it was just that the cops and FCorps had too many
other problems to deal with. But FCorps would make periodic forays into Mr. Shipley’s
territory. They were usually bullies who, like the punk kids previously, just wanted
to beat people up. The bully FCorps would justify the forays into Bum Town as “fighting
terrorism.”
Pretty soon, the FCorps with their stupid yellow helmets, would do what they called
“bum fucks” where they would beat and rape homeless people—men or women. Mostly men.
The FCorps wanted to humiliate and dominate them. It was widely known that if you
wanted to rape and torture, join the FCorps. You were above the law.
The first “bum fuck” took Allen by surprise. He hated those FCorps dicks, but this?
This shocked even him. He wouldn’t let it happen a second time. Pretty soon, having
a yellow helmet in Bum Town was a death sentence. The FCorps started staying away.
Around Christmas, Allen’s big Patriot donor came to see him. Allen only knew him as
“Mr. Smith.” Allen had found out his real name but, out of respect for the risks he
was taking, only referred to him as “Mr. Smith.”
“Some heavy shit is gonna go down around New Year’s,” Mr. Smith said to Allen. “Some
heavy shit.”
“Okay,” Allen said. “Let me know what I need to do.”
“Secure Bum Town so we can use it as a staging area,” Mr. Smith said. He smiled and
said, “Gee, the port is right here. What a great way to land some guys. Right in the
heart of the state capitol.”
“You know,” Allen said, “two of my guys were down by the water and heard the port
people talking about how no one would be working there on New Year’s Eve. They’re
having some big party.” Allen couldn’t remember if he had passed that on to the Patriots
or not. There had been so much going on.
Mr. Smith smiled. “Yep. Your guys passed that on to HQ and, based partially on the
port people being gone on New Year’s Eve, they came up with a naval landing. A small
one, but a landing, nonetheless. Instead of a ‘naval’ landing, it’d be more accurate
to say a ‘pirate’ landing, but good guy pirates. The Limas are so weak right now that
just a small water landing like this will have a huge impact.”
Allen smiled. Brilliant. Landing forces six blocks from downtown and a mile and a
half from the capitol. And Allen was perfectly positioned to help. It was like his
twenty plus years of work there had been leading up to this, even though he didn’t
know it back then.
“I need you to take out as many FCorps as possible,” Mr. Smith said. “About an hour
before the main operation.”
“I know just how to do it,” Allen said. He described his plan to get word to the FCorps
through some Patriots inside the FCorps that a big, epic bum fuck was going to happen
on New Year’s Eve. Lure in as many FCorps as possible. Surround them. Let his people
exact their revenge. Especially on captured yellow helmets. Let them feel what it
was like to be on the receiving end for a change.
“Perfect,” Mr. Smith said. They worked out the details.
Now it was New Year’s Eve and Allen was leading his people in the hand-to-hand fighting
with the FCorps in Bum Town.
“Freddy,” Allen said, “nice work. Now go back and join up with the others. The yellow
helmets are on the run and we need to get as many as possible tonight.”
“There’s some boats coming!” someone yelled. Allen ran the two blocks to the port.
He hoped to see many boats. They were finally going to take Olympia and end all this!
No more bum fucks. No more corrupt cops. No more of this.
Allen saw the lights of big and small boats. There were about a dozen of them. He
watched as they came in. When the first boat got close, he could see it was flying
the Don’t Tread on Me flag. The largest boat had an armored car on it.
The side of the armored car read, “Tantori Security Co.”
(January 1)
Back at the Prosser Farm, the EPU agents were excited. They were professionals and
rarely showed emotion, but they were giddy with excitement on New Year’s morning.
When they weren’t out at a guard station on the farm, they were huddled near the radio
in the living room.
“Amazing,” said Mike Turner, one of the EPU agents. “They’re crumbling. I’ve never
seen anything like this.” Mike went on to tell the WAB adults—the kids were off in
separate rooms playing because they didn’t need to worry about all this military stuff—about
how the Patriots were advancing on Olympia.
“We’ve entered the city from multiple directions,” Mike said. “Get this: we landed
amphibious forces right at the port of Olympia! Amphibious forces! Like this is some
real war, or something.”
Mike drew a crude map of Olympia and showed everyone roughly where the good guys were.
“We’re holding the bridge at the Pierce/Thurston County line on I-5.” That bridge
was necessary for the Limas to come down from JBLM to reinforce Olympia. “It’s like
the Limas aren’t even trying to come into Olympia. I dunno. It’s like they’re letting
Olympia fend for itself.” Mike was beaming. He had bet his life on the Patriots winning.
And it seemed like they were.
Karen, Brian’s wife who was not exactly gung ho about all this military stuff, had
been concerned that her husband was being sucked into some big military adventure
without thinking. So she asked Mike, “What’s the source of this information? Patriot
reports?”
Mike’s eyes lit up. “No! That’s the cool thing,” he said, losing his normal professional
restraint. “All these reports I’m giving you come from the State Patrol’s own radios.
We have the frequencies. We listen in on them. No, all this good news is coming straight
from the Limas. You can hear how scared they are. I even recognize a few voices from
my days back at the Patrol. I know them. They are terrified. We’re winning.” He put
his hands up to the sky. “We’re winning!”
Brian wanted to change the subject a bit. He didn’t want his wife to look like she
had been wrong, even though he knew she was.
“What’s happening inside Olympia?” Brian asked. He was wondering how his former neighbors
still back in the city were doing.
“We don’t know too much about details inside the city,” Mike said. “The Lima reports
about the civilians are very general. But, from our limited number of Patriot observers
inside the city, we know there is a lot of shooting. Not sure if it’s gangs or military
or police, or Patriot gray men and resistance. Lots of shooting, though. Detailed
reports are hard to come by. Most of our guys are still on the outskirts and comin’
in.”
Brad Finehoff, the head of the EPU unit, came into the room, “A Patriot irregular
unit came down Highway 101 an hour ago, linked up with the Delphi guards, and is now
heading into Olympia.”
“When do we go in?” Ben asked.
“When it’s safe, Governor,” Brad said. “Not sure when that will be, but in a few days,
probably.”
Everyone was silent. They just looked around and soaked it all in. There they were
in the living room of a farmhouse getting updates on a war in their own town. And
getting ready to go into it and become the Governor. Who would have thought this was
possible a few years, or even months, earlier?
(January 1)
“I am Attorney General Jerry Harvey… and I have joined the Patriots,” said the small,
slim, prominent looking man. He was the Loyalist Washington State Attorney General
– well, now he was the former Attorney General. He was broadcasting live on every
television in western Washington State and several internet news sites. The Patriots
had finally hacked the stations and sites, broadcasting directly into the homes of
millions of Washington residents late in the morning, when a huge audience was tuning
in to find out what was causing all the gunfire and explosions they’d been hearing.
The Limas’ psychological devastation from having their own Attorney General switch
sides was absolutely enormous. It was a gigantic propaganda coup, one of the most
important events in the whole war. The Attorney General’s broadcast would show the
Undecideds in Lima territory that the “legitimate authorities” were not invincible.
If their own Attorney General was switching sides, what did that say to rank-and-file
Loyalists?
“I ordered the killing and detention of hundreds of innocent people, all in violation
of the Constitution,” the Attorney General said. “I did not stop the state and federal
government from violating just about every law and principal of decency. I didn’t
stop them. I did terrible things and am sincerely sorry. I make this confession freely.
I have been treated well. I have been cooperating with Patriot prosecutors to identify
my former colleagues who committed crimes so they can be held accountable. Soon. Very
soon.” He said that with confidence.
“The Patriots have been very fair to me,” he continued. “I have been offered a full
pardon. My family was rescued by Patriot forces and relocated to a safe location in
one of the free areas of New Washington.” He paused and looked directly into the camera.
“The so-called ‘legitimate authorities’ are losing. You know it; you feel it. Listen
to the voice in your heart. This can’t go on. Your kids deserve a better life. You
see the lack of food, all the crime everywhere, and the corruption. You know the Loyalists
are wrong. Switch sides. I did, and I’ll forever be grateful I did. Join me. Join
the Patriots.” He paused to allow the camera to fade out. He looked relieved and at
peace when he finished speaking.
“Okay, that’s a wrap, Jerry,” said Patriot intelligence officer Dutch Hillenburg,
signaling that the video shoot was over. “Thanks, man. That was perfect.” He hugged
Jerry, who began to cry. Jerry was crying tears of relief that the ordeal was over
and everything had turned out so well.
“I need to be honest,” he said to Dutch. “Coming over to your side wasn’t my idea
in the beginning. You had to kidnap me.” He started to cry again. “I don’t deserve
any credit for making the right decision, but now that this has been forced on me,
I can say that I’m glad I’m on your side. We were wrong, Dutch. I did bad things.
You got me to realize that. Thank you.” Dutch nodded. He actually believed Jerry was
now sorry for what he’d done.
“Sir,” a soldier said to Dutch as she walked into the conference room. “We have the
special guests for you and General Harvey.” The formal title of an Attorney General
is “General,” even though the Attorney General is a civilian, so Jerry was technically
“General Harvey.”
“You’ll love this, Jerry,” Dutch said. He had grown so close to the former Attorney
General that he could call him “Jerry.” Dutch motioned to the soldier to send in the
special guests.
Helicopter pilot, Lt. Enrique “Paco” Mendez, came in with a woman, Jessica Aylesworth,
and three other men; Terry Rose, a burly airborne Ranger; Tom Kirkland, a Special
Forces soldier who coordinated the helicopter strikes for the Limas at Camp Murray;
and Roy Chopping, a former New York City detective. They “bro hugged” and fist-bumped
Dutch. Jerry looked on, not knowing any of them.
“Where are my manners?” Dutch asked. “General Harvey, this is ‘Paco,’ the helicopter
pilot who picked you up in August. You probably didn’t recognize him without his helmet
and visor.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Jerry said. “Under somewhat better circumstances this time,”
he said, referring to the fact that when Jerry and Paco first met, it seemed like
Paco was trying to kidnap him.
“General,” Paco said, tipping his head. He didn’t salute because they were indoors
and Jerry was a civilian.
“And you remember Terry,” Dutch said to Jerry. “He punched you in the face and handcuffed
you.”
“How could I forget?” Jerry said with a slight smile. Jerry had almost no sense of
humor and seeing Terry again was terrifying. A slight smile was all he could manage.
“Sorry, General,” Terry said. “Nothing personal. Just business. I had to get you out
of that building and into the bird,” he said, referring to the helicopter.
“You’ve never met Tom Kirkland,” Dutch said, motioning for Tom to shake the Attorney
General’s hand. “He’s a Special Forces solider who was actually at Camp Murray coordinating
the ground forces who rode on the Loyalists’ helicopter strikes. He is the one who
got Terry’s people onto the helicopter Paco flew to the hospital to retrieve you.”
“You know Jessica,” Dutch said to Jerry. “She is, of course, your personal assistant.”
“Jess,” Jerry said, “I’m so glad to see you’re okay.” He hugged her and she started
to cry.
“Sorry I had to do this, General Harvey,” she said. “But it all worked out. Are Linda
and the kids okay?” she asked, referring to his family.