Forgotten Forbidden America: Rise of Tyranny (2 page)

When they were still in the army, Nelson and Michelle talked about always staying prepared. Then, watching the politicians start punishing the warriors for fighting a war Washington sent them to, Nelson and Michelle grew very weary of the government. Not of America, for they loved their country, but of those in power they feared, elected and unelected.

“You have a busy day today?” Michelle asked as they reached the back patio.

Looking in the sliding glass doors, Nelson smiled at the two Rottweilers standing there, panting at them. “Yeah, we have to lay out the new additions to the fall hunting line,” he said, opening the door, and the two Rotts sat down and continued to pant at them. “Zeus, Hera, go potty,” Nelson said, pointing outside, and the two massive dogs walked past them and shot out into the yard.

“It’s the middle of summer,” Michelle exclaimed. “I swear men are just as bad as women when it comes to hunting and the outdoors. You do shows and catalogs that would rival the fashion shows in Paris.”

“Hey,” Nelson snapped, offended. “At least we can play with our stuff. Women can only wear those stupid clothes, and they aren’t that pretty either.”

Laughing, Michelle went over to the counter and fixed Devin a bottle. “That’s what I mean.” She smiled.

“If I’m not mistaken, you spend more than I do hunting each fall,” Nelson reminded her, crossing his arms over his chest.

She looked up at him as she offered the bottle to Devin. “The only reason is because you get freebies from all the outfitters and companies,” Michelle moaned as Devin snatched the bottle and started drinking.

“Not my fault I got a cool job.”

Michelle walked over and kissed his cheek. “Another reason I keep you around,” she said and handed Devin over.

“Well, I’m glad I got that business degree,” Nelson mumbled.

“You want to do breakfast or get the heathens up?” she asked, adjusting her towel.

“I’ll take breakfast,” he offered, kissing Devin on his big, bald head. Smiling, Michelle took Devin and headed down the hall.

As Nelson started breakfast, she went into the first room and saw little Olivia sprawled across her bed and all the covers on the floor. Olivia was five and brunette like her mom but was small for her age. She was diagnosed with asthma the year before after a hundred doctor and ER visits. Now on medications to help her breathe, she was rarely immobile except when she slept, and judging by the conditions of the blankets, Michelle was convinced Olivia was running around in her sleep.

Putting Devin on the bed, Michelle leaned over. “Olivia baby, it’s time to get up,” she whispered and caressed her face. Olivia let out a groan and turned over, curling up into a ball. She slid her hand down and stopped at Olivia’s tummy. “Get up, sleepy head,” she called out, smiling, and Olivia grunted. Grabbing Olivia’s tummy, Michelle started tickling.

Howls of laughter sounded as Olivia grabbed her mom’s hand to stop the tickles. “Momma, quit!”

Michelle quit as Olivia turned over, looking up at her and smiling, wiping sleep out of her eyes. “Tell Daddy to wet your hair and brush it before you eat,” Michelle said, standing up and grabbing Devin, who finished his bottle and threw it down, complaining. Walking over to the closet, Michelle laid out Olivia’s clothes for the day.

“Okay,” Olivia yawned, sitting up. “Will Daddy make pancakes?”

“He might if you hurry and ask him,” Michelle said, walking out. She stopped at the next room. Olivia jumped up and took off to the kitchen, showing no signs of just waking up as only a five-year-old could.

In the next room, Michelle put Devin in his crib, and immediately, he started yelling, letting her know he didn’t like that. Ignoring Devin, she walked over to the bunk bed in the corner. Their oldest child, Gavin, was eight and sound asleep on the top bunk. Reaching over, Michelle brushed the hair out of his face. “Gavin, it’s time to wake up,” she said softly.

“Mom,” he groaned and turned over as Devin kept shouting from his crib.

“I’m off tomorrow, and you can sleep late before your baseball game. This weekend, we have a lot of stuff to do,” she said, turning around to look at Devin. “You need to hush,” she snapped at him, and Devin jerked back like she hit him. “I’ll get you in a minute,” she said, turning back to Gavin.

“When can I shoot in those contests?” Gavin groaned, sitting up.

She rubbed his head and wished Gavin would quit growing so fast and sighed. “Your dad asked me last night if you could enter the junior skeet shoot when we go to Texas this weekend, and I told him if you promise to be careful and remember what you were taught, I didn’t mind.”

Suddenly wide awake, Gavin jerked and threw his legs over the side of the bed. “Really, Mom?” he asked, grinning, and she nodded. “I’ll do good; you’ll see, Mom,” he said and jumped down, hugging her. “If I do good, can I do pistol next time?” he asked with his face burrowed in her chest.

“Let’s do one thing at a time, but if you follow the rules, I’ll talk with your father,” she offered as Gavin leaned back.

“I know guns are dangerous, Mom,” he said with a serious expression.

Pulling him back into a hug, she sighed, “I know you do, baby, but Momma doesn’t like you growing up so fast.”

“Mom!” he cried out as she hugged him.

Letting him go, she smiled. “Sorry, I forgot you’re not a baby anymore.”

“Mom!” he cried in exasperation, blushing.

“Oh, don’t worry. Nobody’s around to see me making a fuss over you growing up,” she said and walked over to grab Devin. “Even if they were, I’d break their legs if they said anything about my baby boy.”

She left and closed the door behind her quickly but heard Gavin cry out, “Oh come on, Momma, I’m eight, not four,” as she headed to the last room. She walked into the master bedroom and set Devin on the floor as she went in the bathroom and started the shower and laid out hers and Nelson’s clothes.

In the kitchen, Olivia was sitting at the bar, watching her dad fix pancakes. “Munchkin, go get Daddy the brush,” Nelson said, stacking up pancakes.

“Can I have some pancakes first?” she whined.

Turning around, Nelson looked at her hair going everywhere. “Munchkin, your hair is going to take some time,” he said, grabbing the bowl of batter. Sighing, Olivia jumped down and ran to the bathroom she shared with Gavin then ran back holding her brush.

Finished with breakfast, Nelson walked over. Grabbing the brush and wetting it, he started taming the mass of tangles. When Gavin walked down the hall dressed, Nelson was braiding Olivia’s long hair in two pigtails on each side of her head.

Walking past, Gavin smiled, “Dad, a man shouldn’t know how to braid a little girl’s hair.”

Nelson turned around as Gavin sat at the table. “Son, I can guarantee you when you have a little girl, you will learn,” he said with a straight face. “Because the momma threatens to cut it off if she has to deal with it all the time,” he added under his breath as he finished his task. He patted Olivia on the back and kissed the top of her head. “Get dressed, and let’s eat.” She smiled and jumped off the stool.

Gavin got up from the table, grabbed plates, and started setting them out as Nelson walked down the hall and found Michelle putting on her belly band with a pocket holster. A naked Devin was crawling around on the floor, exploring. “Damn, a near naked woman getting armed is sexy,” Nelson said and walked over and kissed her.

“Don’t, or we’ll be late,” Michelle warned, kissing him back but pushing him away. She was already in the mood, seeing him still pumped from his workout in a tank top. Groaning, Nelson headed into the shower. Walking over to the nightstand, Michelle tapped the small bedside safe, pulled out her compact Springfield, and slid it in the pocket of the belly band. Then, she grabbed a spare magazine, sliding it in the pocket on the other side. Pulling on her scrub top, she looked in the mirror, and like every other day, she couldn’t tell she was armed.

Working in a hospital was dangerous, and be damned if she was putting her life in an unarmed security guard’s hands. JCAHO forbid weapons in hospitals even if you had a permit, which Michelle and Nelson did. The way she saw it, if she had to use it to defend herself, she would be alive and in trouble instead of dead or hurt in the clear: judged by twelve or carried by six. It made her mad that politicians still told women that they should be raped instead of protecting themselves.

Walking in the bathroom, she brushed out her shoulder-length hair and pulled it back in a ponytail, pulling her bangs out over her forehead. After putting on the bare minimum of makeup, she grabbed Devin and left.

Getting out of the shower, Nelson brushed down his thick, short hair, giving him a GQ look. After quickly shaving, he walked out and put on the suit that was lying on the bed. He was satisfied with suits from Sears, but Michelle threw them all away and bought him tailored suits. He opened his small safe in his nightstand and pulled out a compact 1911 in an inside the waistband holster. Sliding it in, he pulled out a dual magazine pouch and put it on his left side. Unlike Michelle, his work encouraged carrying a firearm. People really didn’t want to rob a store where many of the employees were armed. 

Grabbing his coat, he walked in to find the family eating. “Man, I cooked it. You could’ve at least waited,” he said, smiling and sitting down. Everyone groaned and held hands as Nelson said a prayer. Then, like always, the family ate together, enjoying each other’s company as they talked.

Chapter 2

Walking outside, Nelson stopped as the family walked past him. He looked down at the Rotts. “Be good,” he said, arming the alarm system and closing the door. He stopped and grabbed the newspaper as the garage door opened, and Michelle climbed in the back of her new Suburban to put Devin in his car seat. Olivia ran over and jumped in the back, whining for Michelle to start the car so she could watch cartoons on the entertainment system. As Gavin climbed in the passenger door, Michelle handed over the keys, and he started the SUV to make Olivia shut up.

Smiling at the sight, Nelson turned and walked down the driveway to the mailbox with Jackson stenciled on the side. He put the bills in and raised the flag. They had credit cards, and when they used them, they paid them off the next month by mail of course. They didn’t allow companies to pull money out of their account no matter how convenient it was. They never kept more than three thousand dollars in their bank accounts.

There were two massive gun safes in the house and one in the shop. That was where they kept their stash, around twenty thousand in cash in US dollars and that much in other currencies with a shitload of gold, silver, and platinum. Then, there was the stash at the farm where the rest was stored.

They had 401Ks through their jobs, but they didn’t trust Wall Street to protect their savings. In truth, Nelson didn’t want his 401K, but his job demanded everyone had one with the company. Before the last crash, he and Michelle had a small IRA set up with other diversities, and it took a massive hit. In the end, they lost money and pulled everything out. After the last “bailout,” he was under no illusions that the government would only protect the banks and not the people who had invested as the bankers gave themselves raises.

Hearing the SUV backing up, he turned around as Michelle stopped beside him. “Love you, baby. You be careful,” she said as he leaned over, kissing her.

“You too,” he said and looked at the kids. “You guys be good today.”

“We will,” Gavin and Olivia sang out, and Devin chewed his fist.

Michelle backed out and drove off. They lived south of Lake Springfield on a long cul-de-sac subdivision. It wasn’t like a normal subdivision. All the lots were a minimum of five acres, but their house was the smallest by far. The massive monstrosity across the street sat on twenty acres and was four or five times the size of their house. Nelson didn’t know for sure because he had never been inside. The family that owned it only stayed there a few weeks out of the year.

Turning around, he looked beside the house at the 1980 Chevy Blazer he had bought when he was in high school. It was now totally restored and in mint condition with massive tires, cattle guard, and winch. It normally sat inside the garage, but he had changed the oil in his truck last night.

He pressed his remote, and the second garage door opened, and he smiled at the present Michelle had bought him last year: a Chevy 2500HD quad cab. They had put running boards and a cattle guard and winch on along with his massive tires. Then in the bed, they installed a sliding storage drawer. It held items he would need if things ever went bad while he was away. It required a combination and not a key to open, so if the police ever wanted to search it, a warrant would be needed.

Michelle had one in the Suburban only smaller, and each vehicle held a backpack with three days of supplies—what Nelson referred to as a small go bag. They were preppers before the word ever came into vogue. They never talked to anyone about what they had, not friends or even family.

Thinking of family, Nelson stopped beside his truck. His dad was alive but still drunk in south Texas. His mom had died when he was still in the Army. He had an older brother named Bill, but the last he heard from Bill was he was serving six years for killing a pedestrian, getting his fifth DUI.

Michelle’s mother was still alive somewhere in Florida, still going to the bars every night. The last time they heard from her was when she needed bail. That was three years ago, and they didn’t send the bail. Michelle had a younger brother, Michael, who was in the Navy, and they talked every few months. Like Michelle, he wanted to change his life. Michelle’s father left the house the day her younger brother was born. The reason: Her brother didn’t look anything like her father.

“This is our family here.” Nelson smiled, opening the door of his truck. Turning the key, he waited till the glow plug light went off and started the truck. Carefully backing out, the truck fit with only an inch clearance overhead and a few on the side. When he was out, he hit the button, closing both doors.

He hit the radio and found his favorite talk show was just starting. “Hello, America, it’s Alex here, and the big news today is the market collapse in China,” the host announced, causing Nelson to hit the brakes, stopping in the middle of the road as he backed out.

“The China market lost twenty-seven percent of value yesterday or last night as we slept. Japan lost eighteen percent, and both countries closed markets early,” Alex announced. “Here in America, all signs are our markets will follow this crash.”

Hearing a horn, Nelson turned and saw a car waiting on him to move. He pulled back in the driveway and let the car pass as Alex continued. “The markets open in fifteen minutes, so we will see.”

“Holy shit,” Nelson mumbled. He was no economist by any means, but even he knew those were massive losses.

“The Secretary of the Treasury announced an hour ago he was certain our markets wouldn’t follow the downturn and was backed by the chairman of the Federal Reserve,” Alex continued, and Nelson chuckled. “Yes, America, that’s what they said; you can look on their websites and even see it on the networks. I’m just here to tell you if our market doesn’t drop, it’s because they are inflating the numbers or outright lying.”

Nelson nodded. “You got that right.”

“With our debt now over twenty trillion dollars, if China, who holds over seven percent of our debt, demands payment, we are screwed as the house of cards will fall. Then, if Japan, who holds almost that much, does the same, the house of cards will burst into flames,” Alex said in a somber voice.

Shaking his head and making sure no cars were coming, Nelson backed out. “Wish I could run up a debt like that,” he mumbled. “Hell, the last loan we had, they seemed pissed when we paid off the note early,” he said, talking to the radio as he drove down the road.

Listening to the talk show as he drove to work, Nelson was numb as he pulled in the parking lot and into his space. Grabbing his cellphone, he texted Michelle the highlights then climbed out. He put his cellphone holster on his belt and grabbed the newspaper. Seeing nothing else, he closed the door and spun around. Hitting the button to lock the doors, his truck honked at him, letting him know the alarm was on.

As he walked inside, Nelson opened the paper and didn’t see anything on the China and Japan market crash. “Probably didn’t know before the paper was released,” he said, folding the newspaper up. Walking past employees, he smiled and talked to a few as he headed for his office.

Turning off the main floor, he walked down a narrow hall that opened into a large waiting room with a secretary on each side. Turning to the right, he walked past a middle-aged, chubby woman sitting behind a desk: Mildred, his secretary. “Hey, Mildred,” he said, stopping as she handed him a stack of folders.

“The new inventory arrived, and the store managers will be online for the conference at ten,” she said with a smile.

“All the inventory arrived?” he asked, shocked, looking at the stack as he took it. In the five years he had this job, never had all the new inventory arrived on time.

Handing over a mug of coffee, Mildred nodded, smiling. “Yes, even the display models and warehouse stock.”

“Well, I might get out of here on time,” Nelson said, smiling and heading to his office. Walking in, he found several boxes on the far wall. He set the stack of files and his coffee down then went over and started opening boxes. Finding this year’s new releases of hunting bows and guns inside, Nelson smiled. Pulling the ATF forms from the boxes of guns, he signed as Mildred came in and started gathering the empty boxes.

“Daren wants to talk to you before the online meeting,” Mildred said, carrying out an armload.

Walking over to his desk and grabbing his coffee, Nelson nodded, “Send him in when he gets here.” Daren was the store manager for this store.

“I’ll get someone to bring some cases over for the guns and bows,” Mildred said and walked out before Nelson could reply.

“That woman is too good,” Nelson said, carrying his coffee over to inspect the new merchandise. There were three new bolt-action rifles, four shotguns, two AR-15s, a crossbow, and two compound bows. Arranging the stuff, he found several packages of new broad heads for the compound bows and crossbow then over a dozen different knives. Then, he found three new lines of camo from the top competitors. They sent them to management hoping the store would push their stuff over the competitors. Nelson always told them he tried the stuff out, which he did, and those that worked as advertised, he would recommend personally.

Walking around his desk, he sat down then started going over the fall layout when he heard his door open. Looking up, he saw Daren walk in. “What’s on your mind, Daren?”

“Hey Nelson,” Daren said, walking by to look at the stuff. “Just opened mine as well, and I’m excited about the new bows.”

“I wasn’t that impressed with the prototypes,” Nelson said and took a sip of coffee.

“They fixed it,” Daren smiled. “Hey, I was just wondering if we put a larger display just outside the doors to announce the new lines if you think it would do some good?”

Shaking his head, Nelson said, “We are already putting out a new catalog, flyers, with a TV and radio campaign. When you throw in the internet advertisement, that’s quite a large sum we have invested on their merchandise. The way I see it, if the customer is already at the store, we’ve done our job.”

Daren sat down and sighed. “Nelson, it will be hunting season, and even when we double staff, we can’t get to all the customers, and they walk around looking for the new merchandise.”

Thinking about that, Nelson leaned back. “Well, why don’t we put up small, fluorescent, orange signs signaling new merchandise? That shouldn’t cost much, and the stores can order them locally. One sign at the front of the store won’t do much to help with that,” he finally said.

Laughing, Daren slapped his thigh. “That’s why they pay you the big bucks.”

“I wish I got paid the big bucks the CEOs get paid,” Nelson said, nodding.

“Huh,” Daren huffed, “you and I wouldn’t know what to do with that type of money.”

“True,” Nelson nodded. “Hey, did you hear about the market crash in China and Japan?”

“No,” Daren said, standing. “Why would I care? They are on the other side of the world.”

“Ah, they own a lot of our debt.”

Daren shrugged. “I know lots of people who don’t pay their debts. Hell, I can take you down to the credit department and show you the ones that don’t pay the credit cards we give out,” Daren said.

Shocked at Daren’s answer, Nelson just took a sip of coffee. “See you online at ten,” Nelson said as he tilted his head back as Daren walked out. Nelson picked up his phone and told Mildred about the new signs. When he hung up, she scurried off to make one.

Turning on his computer, Nelson could only find small, one or two-line stories about the Asian crash on the network sites. When he went to the alternative news sites, the boards were almost on fire with news. He read over the entries as his cellphone went off.

Looking at the screen, he smiled at Michelle’s text. “Holy f**king shit and balls that’s bad.” He typed back that he agreed.

“What do you think?” she typed back.

“That we don’t need to type on cellphones what we think or will do.”

“Oops, sorry. You are going to stop by and pick up the paychecks, right?”

“It’s payday of course. See you tonight,” he typed then realized how paranoid that previous text sounded. “Shit, with our government spying on us more than terrorists, it’s not too paranoid,” he concluded out loud.

The rest of the day went off without a hitch, and several times during the day, Nelson would turn to his computer and check on the markets. All the markets were holding steady, but on the alternate websites, all kinds of stories continued.

Gathering up the test equipment, Nelson carried it out to his truck and was able to leave early. He headed to the bank because it was payday, and his and Michelle’s checks were deposited directly into their accounts. When he walked in, the bank manager came over and pulled Nelson to the side.

“Mr. Jackson, I’m sorry, but we can’t let you pull out the money you usually do,” the manager said.

Hearing that, Nelson took a step back as he said, “Excuse me?”

“We can’t let you pull out the money you usually pull out every two weeks,” the manager repeated.

Nelson forced himself to remain calm. “Sir, you will give me my money, or I’ll go to the nearest radio station and tell them to broadcast what you just said,” he warned, making the manager go pale.

“Mr. Jackson, the Federal Reserve issued a statement requesting all withdrawals over two thousand dollars be canceled,” the manager whispered.

Shaking his head, Nelson replied, “I don’t care. It’s my money, and if you don’t give it to me, it’s radio time,” Nelson replied in a low voice.