The Coming Storm: Liberators Part 1

Liberators.

A novel of the coming global collapse.

James Wesley, Rawles.

This novel is dedicated to my excellent wife, "Avalanche Lily," for her inspiration and encouragement.

There is no king saved by the mult.i.tude of an host: a mighty man is not delivered by much strength. An horse [is] a vain thing for safety: neither shall he deliver [any] by his great strength. Behold, the eye of the LORD [is] upon them that fear him, upon them that hope in his mercy; To deliver their soul from death, and to keep them alive in famine. Our soul waiteth for the LORD: he [is] our help and our shield. For our heart shall rejoice in him, because we have trusted in his holy name. Let thy mercy, O LORD, be upon us, according as we hope in thee.

-PSALM 33:1622 (KJV).

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

Phil Adams-Defense Intelligence Agency counterintelligence case officer with the Defense Clandestine Service (DCS) Task Group Tall Oak, Washington at Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Washington.

Jacob "Jake" Altmiller-Hardware store manager in Tavares, Florida.

Janelle (McGregor) Altmiller-Real estate agent in Tavares, Florida. Wife of Jacob Altmiller. Sister of Rhiannon (McGregor) Jeffords and Ray McGregor. Daughter of Alan and Claire McGregor.

Lance Alan Altmiller-Son of Jacob and Janelle Altmiller. Eleven years old at the onset of the Crunch.

Terrence Billy-Garbage truck driver, Williams Lake, British Columbia. Member of the Secwepemc tribe.

PO3 Jordan Foster-Navy SEAL BUD/S student, United States Phil Bucklew Naval Special Warfare Center (NSWC), Naval Amphibious Base Coronado, California.

Larry Guyot-Owner/manager of Guyot Railway and Engine Maintenance, Ltd., Prince George, British Columbia.

Jerry Hatcher-Cessna 180G bush pilot, Bonners Ferry, Idaho.

Dustin Hodges-Deputy sheriff, Bradfordsville, Kentucky.

Peter Jeffords-American missionary from New Hampshire.

Rhiannon "Rhi" (McGregor) Jeffords-Missionary originally from Bella Coola, British Columbia. Wife of Peter Jeffords. Sister of Janelle (McGregor) Altmiller and Ray McGregor.

Sarah Jeffords-Daughter of Peter and Rhiannon Jeffords. Seven years old at the onset of the Crunch.

Hal Jensen-Section chief, DCS Task Group Tall Oak, Washington, Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Washington.

Joshua Kim-NSA security officer, Washington, D.C.

Jean LaCroix-Son of Megan LaCroix. Three years old at the onset of the Crunch.

Leo LaCroix-Son of Megan LaCroix. Five years old at the onset of the Crunch.

Malorie "Mal" LaCroix-Younger sister of Megan LaCroix. Former machinist in Kearneysville, West Virginia.

Megan LaCroix-Intelligence a.n.a.lyst NSA contractor at Fort Meade, Maryland. Divorced mother of Jean and Leo LaCroix.

Ken Layton-Former mechanic and member of the Northwest Militia.

Stan Leaman-Dairyman from Anahim Lake, British Columbia.

Sylvia Leaman-Cousin of Stan Leaman. Sixteen years old at the onset of the Crunch.

Kevin Lendel-Member of the Northwest Militia.

Alan McGregor-Retired cattle rancher, Bella Coola, British Columbia. Father of Ray McGregor, Janelle (McGregor) Altmiller, and Rhiannon (McGregor) Jeffords.

Claire McGregor-Wife of Alan McGregor. Mother of Ray McGregor, Janelle (McGregor) Altmiller, and Rhiannon (McGregor) Jeffords.

Ray McGregor-Afghanistan War veteran and military historian. Originally from near Bella Coola, British Columbia. Living near Newberry, Michigan. Son of Alan and Claire McGregor. Brother of both Rhiannon (McGregor) Jeffords and Janelle (McGregor) Altmiller.

Brian Norton-Defense Intelligence Agency counterintelligence case officer and electronics expert with DCS Task Group Tall Oak, Washington at Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Washington.

Scott Paulsen-Defense Intelligence Agency counterintelligence case officer and Russian linguist with DCS Task Group Tall Oak, Washington at Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Washington.

Lamar Simons-Mayor of West Hamlin, West Virginia.

Rob Smith-Cessna Amphibian float plane pilot, Tavares, Florida.

Chad Sommers-Grandson and adoptive ward of Ron and Tracy Sommers. Eight years old at the onset of the Crunch.

Ron Sommers-Rancher and former Marine Corps 3002 ground supply officer, living near Alta, Wyoming.

Tracy Sommers-Wife of Ron Sommers, living near Alta, Wyoming.

Clarence Tang-Defense Intelligence Agency counterintelligence case officer and Chinese linguist with DCS Task Group Tall Oak, Washington at Joint Base Lewis-McChord, Washington.

Aaron Wetherspoon-Retired U.S. Navy chaplain.

AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTORY NOTE.

Unlike most novel sequels, the storyline of Liberators is contemporaneous with the events described in my four previously published novels, Patriots, Survivors, Founders, and Expatriates. Thus, you need not read them first (or subsequently), but you'll likely find them entertaining. For those who have read them, you will find that this novel ties together the four previous books. My regular blog posts are available at: http://www.SurvivalBlog.com.

1.

EXIGENT CIRc.u.mSTANCES.

The backbone of surprise is fusing speed with secrecy.

-Carl von Clausewitz.

Seattle, Washington-October, the First Year.

To Phil Adams, it seemed that his life had become jammed in "fast-forward." Even though his job as a contract counterintelligence agent with Defense Clandestine Service (DCS) Task Group Tall Oak, Washington at Joint Base Lewis-McChord was already fast-paced, recent global socioeconomic events were spinning out of control. The ma.s.s media was abuzz about the inflation jumping above 100 percent, annually. Federal debt obligations had reached absurd numbers, the stock markets had reached dizzying heights, and there were rumblings about foreign repudiations of U.S. Treasury paper.

As he drove toward a routine security paperwork inspection with a defense contractor, Phil Adams had his attention glued to the car radio. He punched the radio's scan b.u.t.ton often, jumping from news report to news report. The stories that he heard this morning were the worst yet: rioting in Detroit and Cleveland and rumors of ma.s.s demonstrations being planned by "community activists" in many other major cities. Phil muttered to himself, "This is starting to damage my calm."

Then Phil got a call on his cell phone from his manager, Hal Jensen.

"I need you to either get back to the Section office or get to a STU phone, p.r.o.nto!" Hal said.

"I'm on my way to Peregrine Systems for a quarterly," Phil answered. "I'm just a two-minute drive from there. They've got a secure phone. I'll call you in five mikes or less."

Just three minutes later, Phil called Hal on the secure line. "What's so urgent?"

"I just got a priority tasking via the high side. We've been ordered to fully update and upload all of our electronic holdings, clean our Section out of the SCIF, degauss and destroy all of the Tall Oak local cla.s.sified holdings, and turn over the entire SCIF to the FEMA staff. I've also been directed to close out all employment contracts-both full-timers and the ad hocs."

Phil was stunned. After a long pause, he replied, "Okay, I'll make some excuses here and be back at the office ASAP."

Phil drove back to JBLM-still listening to the bad economic news on the radio. Phil was thirty-two years old, of average height, with a handsome face, brown hair, blue eyes, and short-cropped hair that was turning prematurely gray. The gray hair was an advantage on post, where everyone seeing him in civilian clothes a.s.sumed that he was either a field-grade officer or a senior NCO who was off duty. Even though he wasn't tall, soldiers had a tendency to step out of the way when he walked down the hall. His physical bearing triggered immediate respect.

As he walked into the Tall Oak Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility (SCIF), he could immediately feel the tension.

Hal spelled it out tersely: The economic collapse had forced a drastic cutback in federal programs. For the first time ever, intelligence agencies had their budgets axed, and the deepest of those cuts were made to agencies with contractors. They were to destroy all of their holdings and shut down the Section. Their communications equipment would all be handed over to the FEMA staff. However, three of their computers designed specifically for handling SCI traffic would be useless to the FEMA staffers without their removable hard drives. But that was of little concern to the departing Tall Oakers.

Tall Oak had one locked storage cage in the far end of the building that was used to hold their Field SCIF gear. This cage contained some dusty equipment in plain view: two pallets of coiled concertina barbed wire, three folding tables, a half dozen folding chairs, a bundled GP small tent, two sledgehammers, a shovel, a four-wheeled utility cart, a two-wheeled dolly, and a tall stack of galvanized forty-gallon steel trash barrels that could be used as burn barrels. None of this gear had been used in recent memory, and the only time that Phil ever saw it was when he was escorting visiting inspectors. In the context of their work, the Field SCIF gear was essentially a collection of relics and an administrative nuisance-just a few more items to count each time that they had to do a PBO inventory.

Fortunately, with digitization, the volume of hard-copy cla.s.sified material that DCS Task Group Tall Oak stored had decreased in recent years. Most of their holdings were in the form of magnetic media that could be destroyed by degaussing them-pa.s.sing them through an intense magnetic field. But the task of destroying all of the paper doc.u.ments would still be enormous.

Since the SCIF had only three crosscut paper shredders, Jensen decided to set up a temporary Field SCIF in the motor pool area behind the building to burn most of the doc.u.ments. Stringing the three strands of concertina wire went quickly. They didn't bother staking it down. Inside the concertina wire enclosure, eight burn barrels were set up in a semicircle. Green plastic Scepter cans of diesel fuel were hauled out and used to stoke the barrels since doc.u.ments stacked more than five pages thick did not burn well, just by themselves. There were also fire extinguishers nearby, if needed.

Many cartloads of doc.u.ments were wheeled out of the SCIF and down the hall to the burn barrels. The flames were a hazard (since the barrels had to be stirred regularly with a length of pipe), and the smoke was irritating. Intermittent rain showers made the work miserable as wet ashes began to cling to every surface.

As they worked, Phil's coworker Clarence Tang listened with earbuds to news reports on a compact FM jogging radio, which he had strapped around his upper arm. He relayed the news headlines tersely and sporadically, half shouting, "There are still riots in progress in New York, Chicago, Atlanta, Dallas, and Los Angeles. Now in California there are also riots and looting in Oakland, Stockton, and San Francisco. So far there is just sporadic looting in Portland and downtown Seattle. They say that Vancouver, BC, seems almost normal, except for a couple of protests by 'the usual activists.' They're describing the freeway traffic like it's rush hour, but at midday. Seattle traffic is definitely slowing down, and they may be closing Sea-Tac airport since there are riots in so many destination cities. Seems like most metro areas with populations over a half million are in trouble. Part of Miami is in flames, out of control."

Phil discovered that the reinforced concertina wirehandling gloves worked well at protecting his hands when he stirred the drums of burning doc.u.ments. Meanwhile, inside the SCIF the bulk degaussers were kept humming, demagnetizing various media. The various "wiped" removable hard disks, disk drives, and tape cartridges were then carried out and smashed with sledgehammers, and then burned for good measure. Hal even had them burn the stacks of generic cla.s.sified doc.u.ment cover sheets, even though they themselves were not cla.s.sified. (Jensen always held a "belt and suspenders" att.i.tude about some things.) Next, they checked the serial numbers of all of their handguns and locked them in one of the GSA high-security drawers. Unlike the others, Phil kept his holster, because it was his personal property. He reminded Hal that he had a SIG P228 at home and asked if he could keep his two issued spare thirteen-round magazines.

Hal nodded. "Sure. Keep them-and here are three more for you. Magazines are cla.s.sified as 'expendable' items and aren't even listed in our Property Book. Consider them an early retirement gift from Uncle Sam."

An inventory of all badges and credentials followed. Finally came the SCI debriefing for Phil, Brian, Clarence, and Scott. It seemed strangely surreal, as they sat and watched the same debriefing DVD that they had shown to countless others. They were all exhausted, sweaty, and grimy with ashes, and they smelled like diesel fuel. Once they had signed their DD Form 1848 debriefing memorandums (which reminded them that they were still bound by the strict terms of their DD Form 1847-1 SCI nondisclosure agreements for the rest of their lives), they were officially read off of SCI.

While they were signing their debrief/nondisclosure agreements, two members of the FEMA staff arrived. These men seemed confused and uncertain of what they should do in the Mother of All Emergencies. They soon gravitated to the television and watched CNN, transfixed, like millions of other Americans.

After signing out for the last time and a few handshakes out in the hall, the Tall Oakers simply drove off to an uncertain future.

Phil returned to his apartment exhausted. He grabbed some leftover sushi takeout boxes from his refrigerator and ate, sipping a bottle of lemon-flavored sparkling spring water. He then resumed organizing his gear-a process that had started a week before. Most of his field gear was sorted into a stack of forest-green Rubbermaid storage totes. Alongside it were his two Pelican long gun cases and nineteen military surplus ammunition cans, six cases of MREs, a tan military surplus water can, and two white cardboard case lots of Tannerite binary exploding target powder.

Phil had two vehicles: a 2012 Chevrolet Malibu, which he used to commute to work, and a 2015 GMC Canyon midsize crew cab four-wheel-drive pickup truck. Just a few months before the Crunch, he'd traded in his blue 2009 GMC Sierra for the Canyon. Outwardly, it looked similar to his old Sierra pickup, but it was scaled down for better gas mileage. Immediately after buying it, he purchased a T.A.G. Crown-S camper sh.e.l.l for his pickup, a common accessory to have in western Washington's wet climate.

When he first bought the Canyon pickup, it had seemed fairly roomy. But when he did a test load using his storage totes and gun cases, he could soon see that he would have to rethink his "Get Out of Dodge" packing plan. While his plastic totes could be stacked two-deep in his Sierra pickup, there was not quite enough room in the Canyon, so he had to buy a set of half-height totes to use for the second layer.

In his final preparations, Phil had to be selective about what was going with him and what he'd abandon in his apartment. He first pulled a few useful items out of his car, like road maps, a tire-pressure gauge, a digital recorder, a Maglite flashlight, and some road flares. Then he filled up the back end of the pickup almost completely, and crammed some clothing and his extra sleeping bag in the gaps around the bins and ammo cans. He also loaded up both of the seats on the right side of the pickup's cab. He left only the driver's seat and a driver's-side rear seat open, knowing that he'd need room to recline his seat to sleep on the long trip ahead.

He always made a habit of leaving his pickup topped off with gas. This served him well today, since every gas station within fifty miles of Seattle had enormous queues of waiting customers.

Although technically Phil still had DCIPS termination paperwork to complete, as far as he was concerned, that could wait until "normal" times. He said to himself, "They have their SIGs, they have their badges and credentials, and I've been read off. Everything else is just piddly paperwork. That can wait."

2.

THE HISTORIAN.

Fear not, but trust in Providence, Wherever thou may'st be.

-Thomas Haynes Bayly DuPont, Washington-October, the First Year Phil Adams had met Ray McGregor when they were both deployed in Afghanistan, stationed at Forward Operating Base (FOB) Robinson, in Helmand Province. They both had a fascination with military history. They struck up a conversation in a MWR tent when Phil noticed that Ray was reading the book The Bear Went Over the Mountain, a history of the Soviet army's invasion of Afghanistan. They were both Christians, and both were politically conservative and viewed politics with a jaundiced eye. They became fast friends.

After leaving active duty, Phil Adams became a counterintelligence contractor at Joint Base Lewis-McChord, in Washington, but he kept in contact with Ray via e-mail and Skype. Ray was the oddball of the McGregor family. After his service with the Canadian army, Ray studied military history at Western University, in London, Ontario. But he had dropped out in his senior year to work on a book about World War II veterans in Michigan. Often living in a fifth-wheel "Toy Hauler" camping trailer towed by his pickup truck, he'd first encamped in Ypsilanti, Michigan, and later in Newberry, in Michigan's Upper Peninsula.

With the exception of some things that he'd left in storage at his parents' ranch, everything that Ray owned fit in his pickup and Toy Hauler trailer. This trailer held his enduro motorcycle, a hydraulic wood splitter, two chain saws, fuel cans, and his various woodcutting tools. He also carried a small emergency food reserve in the trailer, which included two Rubbermaid tote bins filled with canned foods and three cases of Canadian military individual meal packs (IMPs). These were packed in heavy-duty plastic-foil retort pouches and were the equivalent of U.S. military MREs.

Ray had already toured the inside of a B-24 at an air show in Georgia. That plane was the world's only restored flying B-24J, owned by the Collings Foundation. But Ray also wanted to see where they were produced, so he made arrangements via e-mail and completed the short drive to the Willow Run plant. Originally built by the Ford Motor Company, it was an enormous five million square feet in a 1.25-mile-long building. The size of the building was awe-inspiring. At the height of production in 1944, the plant was producing a Liberator at a rate of one every sixty-three minutes, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. By the war's end, the plant had produced 8,685 B-24s. At one point, forty-two thousand people worked at the plant.

After a change in ownership and several repurposings, the plant was finally shut down in 2010. Ray walked through the empty sh.e.l.l of the building, accompanied by a security guard as his tour guide, in the summer of 2013. The guard, who drove Ray between sections of the building in an electric golf cart, was part of a skeleton crew at the plant. The guard was mostly quiet during Ray's hour-long tour, though he mentioned that most of the people whom he drove around the plant were retired Ford and GM employees. Some of them, he said, had made M16 rifles there, for GM's Hydramatic Division, during the Vietnam War. But a few were "the real old-timers," who dated back to the days of B-24 production. As the golf cart hummed them back to the guard office for Ray to sign out, his guide mentioned one last fact: "The lore here is that the turntable two-thirds of the way along the a.s.sembly line was put in for tax purposes. That gave each B-24 a ninety-degree turn before final a.s.sembly. That way, the company paid taxes on the entire plant to Washtenaw County, because the county taxed at a lower rate than Wayne County did. The airport, you see, is in Wayne County. And you know, General Motors still pays five million a year to Ypsilanti Township in property tax on this building and the 335 acres it sits on."

Ray was sad to hear that the plant was scheduled to be demolished, and GM was faced with $35 million in environmental cleanup costs.