If God Wills It

Zombie or Post Apocalyptic themed fiction/stories.

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If God Wills It

Post by Stercutus » Wed May 20, 2015 5:01 am

Al Anbar Province 50 KM North of Rutbah
R-Day -6 0200
The three up-armored American pickup trucks glided silently across the dark desert following a hidden old smugglers route that had been in use for over a thousand years. The route had been known for the last several years as the "Green Road" and it had most recently been used to smuggle arms and ammunition into and out of Syria, Jordan and the occupied territories depending upon who needed them the most to support the conflicts that ravaged the region for the last millennium or so.

For the present the vehicles carried no cargo other than their human occupants. The occupants were on an expedition. The expedition was going to pick something up out there in the wastes and the empty that was Western Iraq nearly forgotten after the American Invasion of Iraq and the fall of Saddam over a decade before.

Something that was needed to see through the last prophecies of the book.

The lead vehicle came to an abrupt halt. The occupant of the front passenger seat, a brutally cruel and efficient man known as Haider, who was the expedition leader exited the cab and looked on the desert with his recently acquired US made PVS-5s. After the fall of Ramadi Haider had liberated and hand selected nearly every vehicle, weapon and piece of equipment that was used in this mission for the sole purpose of this mission.

He had carefully selected the personnel too; only choosing those completely loyal to the cause and fanatically loyal to him. His extensive training under the US advisers for years had not been in vain. He was the rare man in this part of the world who could think ahead several steps ahead and plan.

The path was well disguised but his guide pointed to the trail and explained what needed to be done. Haider barked a few commands and the men dismounted and began clearing it on his orders. What had appeared to be a rocky impassible landscape a few minutes before was suddenly a passable vehicle side trail. The vehicles turned up the trail in the wastes and wove their way through the wadis. Finally, the coordinates on Haider's GPS indicated that they had reached their destination.

The group again dismounted and began a search in the dark for the entrance to the bunker.

Haider had also hired the guide who had led them here. He paid the man his agreed upon fee of 100 grams of gold. The guide tested and checked the metal and then began yet a new round of negations indicating his great performance in leading the group here and how he had a number of babies at home to take care of. Certainly for a few more grams he would show them exactly where the entrance was located. Haider drew his Jambia and with a swift fluid motion slit the man's throat. The guide fell to his knees in shock then fell to his face as he set about gurgling and expiring.

"Yet another of the six signs, it is exactly as written, God is Greatest"; Hadier shouted to the wind. His men echoed his last cry. The end was truly upon them he thought.

Dr. Said Nursi calmly watched Haider kill the guide from the cab of the second pickup. He had been truly surprised when Haider had kept his word and paid the guide at first. Haider had mounted quite a few human heads on the walls at Mosul and he had figured he would simply kill the guide when they arrived. Haider was always showing himself to be true to his word though. The expedition had gone exactly as Haider said it would.

Even though it was dark Said recognized the place like something from a half remembered dream. He had marveled at the justice of using the fine American trucks, gear and even their satellites to bring about their certain downfall. God was indeed Greatest he thought.

He recalled the last time he had seen this place, known simply as "Lab Mountain 1" more than a dozen years earlier. It had been shortly before the invasion of the Americans. The plan just prior to the war starting was to abandon the facility and hide it well until after the war. Said had pushed for employing some of the research in defense of the homeland but was this notion was dismissed. The researchers would be returned to the Air base at Rutbah and meet with their families to evacuate to their home provinces from there. When the convoy arrived at Air Base Rutbah there was practically no one left alive. The Americans had killed nearly everyone with their bombs.

Paralyzed with the pain of losing his sons and his wife he had simply waited near his smoldering military quarters until someone had pushed him on to a truck. Before he knew it he was in Syria and the short war was over. Saddam was dead at the end of a rope a couple of years later and the long war continued on.

He never forgot what he had done here. No one who had worked here could ever forget. It would have been impossible but; they were all dead now.

He was the last, even the Swiss scientist who had started them down the road of their research was now dead. Going last year peacefully in his sleep of a heart attack, or so Said had heard. With the recent death of the guide, a man who years ago had delivered food to the facility, Said doubted that any of the locals even knew the place even existed.

When the kafir doctor had come to him all those years ago at the conference and promised to bring research, research that was "difficult to pursue in the Europe" he had said they would be able to use it to create certain weapons for purely defensive purposes. That and the thin, pale Swiss man had wanted gold, lots and lots of gold. Saddam's Minister had readily agreed and lab mountain was built out in the wastes where few would bother to look.

During the reign of Saddam test subjects were easy to come by. Anyone who displeased Saddam would be sent out here to the wastes and they would simply never return. The old bastard had not lived to see his forgotten project bring him revenge, and it seemed doubtful to Said that Saddam even he knew what had been going on out here. Saddam had gone a little demented in his last few years in power. At some point even Said had doubted if what they were doing was a good idea.

He no longer harbored those doubts.

One of the rebel militia cried out breaking his thoughts. The man had found the entrance. The men converged on the spot and began tearing away the small rocks covering the small man hole entrance. No guard towers or fences or anything to indicate what was going on out here had ever been constructed. Simply an expeditionary oil rig had been set up nearby during the dig as cover. For two decades it was the perfect hiding place but soon Mountain Lab 1 would give up her terrible secrets.

Haider ordered the generator trailer brought forward and they connected it to the power coupling. Haider barked more orders and the generator came to life. The 60KW generator seemed to buckle under the load of starting up the lab then went to a strained putter. Next they began the cutting of the entrance to enter the facility. A cutting torch came to life and the men began in earnest.

During the long war Said had made cautious approaches to those leading the insurgency. "What if there were a weapon of terrible power buried out in the desert, with enough power to destroy all of America and Israel and all those who oppose us?" he would ask.
The reply was always the same; "We don't want to destroy America. We are not butchers. We just want them to leave us be." Now the voices of relative reason were mostly dead. They had disappeared under a black hood and gone to Cuba or died and gone to some other hell from which they would never return. God had replaced them with good butchers. Resolute and holy men willing to do whatever was needed to bring about the end times of the 13th Imam.

A loud clang came from the tunnel. The entrance cover fell free the 10 meters to the bottom of the near vertical entry tunnel. Lights emitted from the tunnel as the generator seemed to be doing its job. Now Said exclaimed the greatness of God. Again the echo was taken up by the rebels. As Said descended into the hole in the Earth in the sky a new day was dawning.

Note: Edited extensively on suggestions from 91Eunozs for grammar and readability.
Last edited by Stercutus on Thu May 21, 2015 5:35 pm, edited 1 time in total.
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be rememberèd—
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother

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Re: If God Wills It

Post by Spazzy » Wed May 20, 2015 8:14 am

Nice start!
Overheard at my USN retirement ceremony....
"So he's not a team player then?"
"You mean Spazz...? Hes not even a fan of the team."

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Re: If God Wills It

Post by 91Eunozs » Wed May 20, 2015 6:14 pm

:clap:

Fan-flippin'-tastic start...Insh'Allah, it will continue!
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zengunfighter wrote:... you don't want to blow a tranny in the middle of a pursuit...
woodsghost wrote:... A defensive gun without training is basically a talisman. It might ward off evil, but I wouldn't count on it.

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Re: If God Wills It

Post by DAVE KI » Wed May 20, 2015 6:42 pm

Agreed, and can't wait too see where it leads.
"We'll Fight Them, Sir!, Until Hell Freezes Over, And Then We'll Fight Them On The Ice! Sir!

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Re: If God Wills It

Post by Stercutus » Wed May 20, 2015 8:00 pm

Perdue Chicken Processing Plant 10KM West of Richmond, VA
R-Day -4 1700

After five years of working at the plant processing chickens Telal had worked just about every low level job in the factory. Most of the jobs were either dangerous or back breaking labor. Lost fingers and thrown out backs were common. His most favorite job was running the forklift. This involved the least amount of labor and running the machine all day made him feel more of a man for reasons he could not explain. Today he had run the forklift most of the 10 hour day and was now looking forward to going home and spending some time with Noor and his children.

It was a ten minute walk from the shipping area out into the massive parking lot to where he had parked his vehicle. Telal had bought the old Ford Bronco for $500 on his second day in the US five years ago. The Colonel had told him it was a great deal and that he should buy it right away. He agreed, such a vehicle in his home country would easily have cost over $4000 USD. He put gas in it, changed the oil regularly and kept an eye on it. Driving slow and easy it had yet to fail him. The odometer was moving up to 200,000 miles and the vehicle showed no signs of stopping.

He flipped on the radio and the international news was playing. More word from the home country. Things were very bad there. For the ten thousandth time since fleeing Iraq he was grateful that he and his extended family had made it safely to the United States. Once the rebels had taken over the Chaldean areas he had stopped hearing from those he had left behind. He knew they were dead in his heart and could not bring himself to think of their fates. He turned off the radio.

Telal's mind wandered back to the plan that the family had formed during the "Surge" years in Iraq. A family meeting had been called when Telal had returned from his convoy escort mission for a local contractor. This mission had been particularly dangerous and several of the guards were killed in an IED attack in the vehicle in front of him. Shaken he had taken his pay and his AK home and decided not to return. Jobs were hard to find but death was all too easily found in Iraq.

At the family meeting Babu, his father and patriarchal family leader had explained that the Americans were offering immigration rights to anyone who would serve as an interpreter for the US forces for two years and proved themselves as faithful and trustworthy. Since they all spoke English (more or less) the sons would all get jobs working for US Forces and then flee at the first opportunity with their families. They would say and do whatever it took to get out of the country. They would ingratiate themselves to the Americans whom he believed had big hearts until they were away from this place. They would start over in America and God willing, meet together in a new city in America.

There were no arguments and little discussion. Everyone knew that as soon as the Americans left; Iraq would either devolve into chaos or the Iranians would take over. Either option would spell their deaths, imprisonments or worse. There would be more risks serving as interpreters but many in their community were already doing just that. They were protecting and hiding each other.

Telal then became "Tom" named after his favorite movie star Tom Cruise. His two brothers also adopted American names for their jobs and they were all assigned to the same American unit serving as an advisory team in Sadr City. During the "Surge" Sadr City was a nightmare of near constant violence. They were among the few local interpreters in the country that were allowed to carry weapons and wear US uniforms on the job to keep them from becoming easy targets. None of them had any formal military training so they just did whatever they saw the Americans soldiers do. Every few months the Americans would take them for weapons training and they all became decent shots with their AK's.

About eighteen months into the job the current advising team on rotation was led by an American Aviation Colonel who seemed to have an uncanny knack for knowing when the shit was about to hit the fan as the American's called it. He seemed to like to go to the exact area where this was going to happen too. It was on one of these days while the patrol was stopped in the market that Tom saw the suicide bomber well before anyone else. The man gave off every sign from the funeral garb to the way he moved in a semi-drunken gait through the crowd that was giving him a wide berth. The bomber had moved all the way up to the outer cordon of Iraqi soldiers. He approached an Iraqi soldier who seemed to recognize him and who then turned his back letting the bomber through.

The Colonel was berating the Iraqi General on some point of how poorly the men on the guard point in the market were doing while Tom's younger brother Maskim/ Mike was furiously trying to keep up and translate.

Tom had seen the pink mist before and wasn't having any of it that day. Without a word he raised his AK and fired a single shot shooting the man in the head from 30 meters. As the failed bomber hit the ground chaos erupted. Several of the Iraqi guards jumped him, pinned him to the ground or pointed their weapons at him. The Iraqi General's chief of security, a huge major named Haider moved from his armored vehicle over to where they were and became enraged. He demanded Tom be arrested. That is until the SVEST was discovered. The big American Colonel paled at the discovery. They were all easily inside of the kill radius.

From that day onward the Colonel employed Tom exclusively as a spotter when on patrol. When the time came Tom explained that he really wanted to go to America. It was far too dangerous to remain in Iraq. The Colonel agreed and helped Tom and his brothers and their families to emigrate to the US. He was better than his word providing them with a place to stay and helping them get started in the States as they arrived and relocated to the Richmond area. With the down economy and opportunities being what they were they all took jobs at the chicken plant at first. The Colonel retired and took a job as a defense contractor in the Washington DC area. They lived in different worlds and did not stay in touch much lately.

Telal pulled into his driveway and mounted the steps to the porch in the small, neat and clean home. The crash of the US housing market shortly before their arrival had meant that when they emigrated to the US the whole street where he now lived was practically empty. So all the families had moved on to the same small street in what was considered a rougher neighborhood in Richmond. The street gangs of the US streets had nothing on Jesh AL-Mahdi. So long as you left them alone they pretty much left you alone they just wanted to sell their drugs unimpeded. The drug addicts were a bit more dangerous but they could be avoided.

The houses were so cheap that the families had simply paid cash for them with the wages they had earned in Iraq. Today they all still lived on the same street but Telal was the only one who still worked at the chicken factory. Maskim/ Mike had gone on to get a job as an armored car driver. Riding around in the armored truck all day had seemed familiar to him and it was less dangerous than working at the chicken plant. The eldest son of Babu; Zaidu (AKA Steve) had taken a job leading Arabic speaking tour groups in the DC area. He was up there 3-4 days a week, mostly on the weekends. With Babu dead Zaidu was now technically the family leader.

Dinner was waiting and he hugged his children before sitting down. As always the TV was playing in the background. Telal looked up and did a double take in shock as he was certain he saw Haider on the TV. While older, the large man, formerly the chief of security for an Iraqi infantry division was unmistakable. Talel had seen him nearly every day for two years.

A recorded statement from the man had been released. Haider went on about how the rebels now had it within their power to destroy; "all of America, every bit of it and Israel and Iran too." They would make good on their threats unless everyone opposed to them withdrew from their caliphate, and submitted to the will of God, immediately. All non-believers and "bad Muslims" would perish. Again Telal was thankful he had left. Things were even crazier than ever over there. At least in America he knew he and his family were safe.
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be rememberèd—
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother

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Re: If God Wills It

Post by 91Eunozs » Wed May 20, 2015 9:11 pm

Woot!

Twofer Wednesday! :clap:
Molon Latte...come & take our coffee order
Doctorr Fabulous wrote:... It's fun to play pretend, but this is the internet, and it's time to be serious.
zengunfighter wrote:... you don't want to blow a tranny in the middle of a pursuit...
woodsghost wrote:... A defensive gun without training is basically a talisman. It might ward off evil, but I wouldn't count on it.

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Re: If God Wills It

Post by DAVE KI » Wed May 20, 2015 10:31 pm

This is getting good. At first I was afraid 'Tom' was a sleeper.
"We'll Fight Them, Sir!, Until Hell Freezes Over, And Then We'll Fight Them On The Ice! Sir!

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Re: If God Wills It

Post by rednekrampager » Wed May 20, 2015 11:27 pm

Great story. I'm looking forward to reading more.
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Re: If God Wills It

Post by Stercutus » Thu May 21, 2015 6:27 pm

Thanks for everyone for your comments, I hope you are having as much fun reading it as I am writing it. I was planning on posting a lot more but decided to put more effort into editing. It will probably be next week before there are any long follow ups.

While Tom was settling into dinner with his family, five blocks West of the street where clan Buba had resettled, Dango Red was sitting on his front porch playing chess with his brother Willie. Dango was the father of at least six kids and grandfather of 17 grandbabies that he knew of. Most days he would sit on his front porch and play chess with Willie.

Dango was also one of the largest drug distributors of illegal and illicit narcotics in the greater Richmond area. He dealt in crack and various pills with some marijuana on the side.

The only drug he ever touched personally was marijuana, which he smoked on a daily basis. That particular drug trade had slacked off a bit lately with the legalization in a few states making it more accessible for most people. It didn't make sense for people to cross Chamberlayne Avenue to buy a small bag of weed when UPS would deliver a kilo straight to their door.

The times they were a-changing.

The last coded text on his cell had been from the Banditos. The text indicated that the boys from the Banditos were bringing in a large delivery of powder within the next hour. The Banditos had showed true colors for several years and were now his sole provider of several products. The products were always what was asked for and on time, every time. They were even more reliable than FedEx. The Banditos were still crazy fucking bikers though. A lot of them did meth and that made them unpredictable at times. Dango had made sure that he had plenty of people out on the street in numbers in case shit went bad.

Two of his men were in the house across the street armed with a rifle. There were three men milling around the corners casually armed with with pistols. His cousin Kivan was at the top of the steps to the porch. Kivan had a shotgun under an old blanket next to his chair. Brother Willie had a blue tooth linked to a laptop in his ear. It was monitoring all unencrypted local police channels via the world wide web.

Yes sir, the times were a-changing indeed.

Dango expected things to go smoothly as always but one did not stay alive in this business as long as he had been without being a bit cautious. Most of the men on guard and lookout were family or relatives of sorts so he figured they were ready if anything went down. A text then came in from a spotter indicating that the delivery car was in the area.

Dango watched the ancient Ford LTD with local tags turn the corner and pull up into his driveway a couple of minutes later. He recognized the man in the passenger seat but the driver had a face he had not seen before. The men exited the car and hailed him from the driveway. Everybody was being nice and careful.

After the verbal exchange the men approached the porch carrying a large gym bag. 6PM seemed like an odd time to some people to do a major drug deal but; Dango knew from his sources in the department that shift change was at 6. All the cops that were still on the street were swamped with traffic wrecks and other calls during this time of the day. The police never came into his neighborhood until well after dark. During the day they could be spotted from blocks away and spotter would send him a text well before they got to his block.

After the deal was done Dango drew down some of his men and had his breakers go inside and start splitting up the load. He had to get the product moved out to the street as quickly as possible. So long as it was all in one place he was at big risk for a raid. Going to prison wasn't really a worry. He knew the local prosecutor would plead him out for hardly any time at all but the whole thing would be expensive and he would be shut down for a few weeks.

Moments later his cell phone started blowing up with text messages. The local police were starting their annual round up of the known dealers in the city. His street level guys were being shuffled off to jail. The old man sighed. He guessed it was going to be a long week.
Last edited by Stercutus on Sun Jan 31, 2016 7:28 pm, edited 2 times in total.
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be rememberèd—
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother

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Re: If God Wills It

Post by 91Eunozs » Thu May 21, 2015 9:52 pm

Thanks for the update!
Last edited by 91Eunozs on Mon May 25, 2015 1:18 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Molon Latte...come & take our coffee order
Doctorr Fabulous wrote:... It's fun to play pretend, but this is the internet, and it's time to be serious.
zengunfighter wrote:... you don't want to blow a tranny in the middle of a pursuit...
woodsghost wrote:... A defensive gun without training is basically a talisman. It might ward off evil, but I wouldn't count on it.

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Re: If God Wills It

Post by rednekrampager » Thu May 21, 2015 10:29 pm

Can't wait until next week. Great stuff so far.
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Re: If God Wills It

Post by jackorchuck » Fri May 22, 2015 5:09 am

Good story so far, thank you.

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Re: If God Wills It

Post by Stercutus » Mon May 25, 2015 3:58 am

The Pentagon, Alexandria VA Sub-Basement Level 3
R Day -2 0830

COL (US Army retired) Bill Bryant had a headache that the coffee he was drinking was not curing. Working down in the poorly recycled air of the still not acknowledged secret sub basement of the Pentagon tended to do that. The things people will endure for $200K a year he mused. The sub basement did not exist in the unclassified world; filing an OSHA complaint was not really an option and he chuckled at the thought of trying to do so.

Despite being chained to his desk 30 hours a week Bryant kept himself in decent shape. He ran several miles a day and hit the gym as often as his schedule would allow. At 6'4" and 220lbs of mostly muscle the old man was in great shape by old man standards. The years were catching up with him though.

Bryant opened his Classified Email account and began reading over the reports from the previous 24 hours. Bill had five years experience living, working and fighting in the skies and on the ground in Iraq making him as much a subject matter expert as anyone on the cursed place. He knew some of the current insurgents personally. Retired, Bryant was just a small piece of the giant puzzle factory called the Pentagon. The Department of Defense paid him a lot of money to collect and analyze reports on the Middle East and tell the Army leadership what he thought; not that they had listened much.

After his last tour in Iraq he had been told to retire after submitting his end of tour report on the state of affairs in Iraq as he saw it. There was a lot of truth in the report and some disagreement with the official policy of getting the fuck out as quickly as possible. He stuck to his guns and refused to change it. He then went down in flames for defending it. The report was over-classified, stuck on a data server somewhere and forgotten. This ended his career so he retired, moved to West Virginia and began a new career in trout fishing near his converted mill farm "Trickle Rock". Not long after he had settled down his beloved Angela passed from the breast cancer. In his mid 50s he was alone for the first time in his life.

His report ended up being one of the rare ones that called the ball exactly. When some lead DOD intelligence contractor found it buried in the database he contacted Bryant and offered him a job. Bryant kept saying no until the contractor offered him an eye watering amount of money.

Bryant worked in the basement three days a week and cyber-commuted two days a week from his place in the mountains. The considerable extra money had allowed him to buy a small dairy farm and a few commercial chicken houses not far from his place. These business concerns ended up keeping him busier than he liked. He was also able to make a number of improvements to his home in the mountains.

So much for trout fishing; at least he would die rich.

A meeting request popped up on his desktop. It was his eldest son Barrett wanting to know if he was free for lunch. The biggest side perk of working in the Alexandria Puzzle Factory was that Barrett also worked there in the automation center doing computer work for a different contractor. This allowed the two of them to meet often for lunch and other activities.

Bill suspected that Barrett made more money than he did due to his doctorate in Computer Science. He just wished the man would get married and have some kids. Barrett had few girlfriends through all his years in college and had only ever brought one home. Once out of school he had been heavily recruited and now worked 10 hours a day talking to computers. Bill thought that Barrett really needed a social life.

Bill's only Grandkids were through his other son Colton who was stationed at Ft. Bragg. He did not get to see them as much as he liked. Often during the summer, Linda, his daughter in law, would bring them up to the cabin for a few weeks. Those were good days with lots of fishing, hiking and other adventures.

Of Colton he saw less than the grandkids. The fool had gone and signed up for Special Forces and was constantly deployed. Even now he was over there in theater somewhere helping "fix" the mess that Iraq had disintegrated into after US forces had left. Bill prayed more for his son while his son was deployed than he ever did for himself when he had been deployed.

Ravena, Bill's youngest daughter would likely never get married or have kids. She liked men well enough but only for a very short period of time. As soon as they started getting "clingy" as she called it she would get rid of them. She had pursued the life of a Special Agent for the DEA and spent her days coordinating drug raids and kicking in doors. She took after her daddy.

He responded to the request that he would love to meet Barrett for lunch and drove on with the reports. Moments later his phone rang. It was Roger his boss.
"Bill, Martin wants everyone in conference room BB303 at 1800."
"That is a little past my nap time Roger, what is going on?" Bill replied.
"I think they are working towards resolving the problem with your old friend Haider."
"He is no friend of mine, the son of a bitch tried to have me killed in '08."
"Then you really, really want to be there then...."

Bill told him he would be there, hung up and went back to work. Something was definitely stirring in Iraq. Reports showed that hundreds of the tens of thousands of foreign fighters among the rebels were returning home. Many had been detained at security check points. All of the fighters had the same story: The rebels were losing and the fighters missed their families and wanted to go home.

They did not seem to be heading to the same place to mass for a extra-theater attack though. If anything they were getting as far away from each other as possible. Given Haider's speech the other day he expected some kind of major action. Unlike many of the rebels Haider was not one to bluff. This had to be connected, in the intelligence world there seldom was such a thing as coincidence.

The rebel leadership was acting strange too. They were buttoning up in one place up in the North on a compound North of Mosul. This was a far cry from the dispersed strategy that they normally followed. It seemed a suicidal strategy given the amount of air power in theater.

Bill wondered, "if they are noticing this upstairs then the plan probably is to decapitate the leadership tonight," he thought. His train of thought continued on; "seldom do you get such a good chance of taking down so many leaders at once. Given all the bad press lately this could be a good thing. Why would the rebels leave themselves open like that?" Bill was confused. They had to know what a risk it was. There was an answer in there somewhere he just had to put the pieces together. He also needed more pieces to the puzzle.

* * *

Lunch with Barrett was also a puzzle. Barrett seemed way more stressed and distracted than was normal. His son had the look of a man holding a secret that he needed to let go of. It seemed at some point that he was going to share whatever it was but then he backed down. Barrett had been acting a little more squirrelly the last few weeks and it seemed to really be bothering him whatever it was. He invited Barrett up to Trickle Rock for the weekend. He figured they would have time to discuss whatever it was up there. Barrett readily agreed and they shuffled back to their respective work areas.

Bryant Returned to his desk and kept digging through intelligence reports. The CIA had issued a raw report on an unknown VIP that had showed up at the suspected rebel HQ's in Mosul three days ago. The VIP had then moved over to the rebel hospital where he had seen hundreds of fighters over the next two days. It was highly likely that these were the same fighter that had just left theater.

He was said to be giving out vaccinations. "Well that is certainly bullshit," Bryant thought, "they don't even have the capability to give out vaccinations." He wondered if maybe the doc was having them swallow drug bladders or some other contraband to smuggle back to the West to sell for money... or bombs...

Bombs would make perfect sense. Some kind of bomb surgically implanted inside the fighters that would be extremely difficult to detect. Something with a doomsday clock. The asset gets on a plane and heads home. At the right time and place "boom". Planes fall out the sky. Hmmm.. still the doc had seen well over two hundred fighters in the last two days. There is no way he could have even shoved that many bombs up the assholes of that many terrorists in two days. Bill was missing something simple and obvious and it was driving him crazy. It was getting close to 1800 so he headed over to B303.

Bryant was the last to arrive but Roger had saved a place for him at the head of the table. When he sat down Roger whispered to him in a conspiratorial tone; "You are really going to want to see this."
"Are they going full scunion on them tonight?" Bill replied.
"Oh yes, the hajis decided to have some kind of pajama party in their man-dresses and now they are going to pay for it. I don't know exactly what CENTCOM is sending their way but it is certain to be a lot. It will be a combined package of breathers and non-breathers." Roger explained.

There was not much to see on the wide screen monitor in the conference room. The satellite was looking at some buildings in the desert city and then suddenly there was a number of flashes of light and the buildings were not there anymore, just a lot of fire with a few secondary explosions. There was some cheering and clapping in the room at the fiery death of the rebel leaders.

"Exterminated them like the plague that they were," announced Martin. The company head had never seen a day of combat in his life.

Bill froze. "Oh shit, that has to be it," he said under his breath. That was the only thing it could be.
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be rememberèd—
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother

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Re: If God Wills It

Post by Snapshot7.62 » Mon May 25, 2015 9:39 am

Very good!
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Re: If God Wills It

Post by 223shootersc » Mon May 25, 2015 11:06 am

Very good start, love where you are going with this, hope the good guys can head them off at the pass and save the day :clap:

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Re: If God Wills It

Post by Stercutus » Mon May 25, 2015 5:29 pm

After lunch Barrett had gone back to his desk and sulked a while. His desk phone rang and it was his sister Ravena.

"Did you tell him?" she queried.
"Not yet," he replied.
"Jesus Christ brother you really need to sack up," she goaded him.
"It is not that I don't want to tell him it is just that you know how he gets... he really will be upset and that can't be healthy at his age."
"Shit, the old man is in better shape than you ever will be. You know he still runs something like 3 miles a day and he is as healthy as a damn ox. You, big brother on the other hand are one big ball of overweight American stress."
"He has invited me up to Trickle Rock this weekend. I think we will go up there and then I can just explain the whole thing to him. Once he sees it in the flesh I think he will find it easier to accept."

There was a long pause on the other end until she began again; "Ok, I'll come up too for moral support. But if you don't tell him by Sunday I might just tell him to get it over with."

They said their goodbyes and Barrett hung up. He turned and immersed himself in work until it was nearly 4PM. He then left a little early to try to beat some of the legendary DC traffic. Tonight was the homeowners association meeting night in his small gated community of Woodcrest. He crept along the packed Interstate in his Prius to his neighborhood and he thought about some of the issues that they were having in the community.

Barrett had been elected to the HOA board last year. He owned one of the larger homes in the neighborhood. He paid more in HOA fees than in annual property taxes. While he wasn't crazy about the HOA they did seem to have a handle on some things.
Several months ago they had three break-ins in a month and the HOA had hired some retired cops to sit in a booth at the gate. The break-ins stopped. The cops did not do much but just having someone there to keep an eye on things had eliminated the problem for now. Their solution to most problems was to pay someone else to take care of it.

Currently the biggest problem they were having was that people not cleaning up after their pets. Some people were letting their cats run loose or feeding strays. Dogs were being walked and people were not bagging the poop. The normally pristine lawns had animal feces everywhere. The lawn service refused to pick up the feces and in the areas that were in heavy use would not mow the grass. Things were starting to look positively redneck.

Nearly everyone in the community worked for the government or a contractor in some fashion. There were few house wives and kids in the neighborhood. Most of the married couples were older. Their kids had mostly already left the nest. The neighborhood was full of people who worked a long day and paid people to take care of their lawns and pools, fix their houses and keep everything up and looking like a park. Nobody liked picking up poop.

At the meeting things went downhill fast. Residents slung accusations at each other and then whole thing devolved into a near shouting match over dog shit. The HOA board voted to install some wireless game cameras to see who was doing, or not doing, what. People would be fined based upon the camera evidence. About the time Bill, Roger and Martin were settling into conference room BB303 to watch the rebel leadership get theirs the HOA meeting broke up and Barrett headed home.

Barrett thought it was ironic that some of the same people who would fight hard against having a state run camera system peeking into their lives were just fine with getting one to spy on their neighbors. He wondered if they realized that they were spying on themselves as well.

Inside the kitchen of the McMansion Barrett fixed himself a Manhattan and began to unwind to some light jazz. He moved into the master bedroom where a small male figure was laying naked on his bed.

"Did you enjoy your meeting? the figure asked.
"We are going '1984' in Woodcrest in order to stem the rising tide of dog shit" he replied to the Filipino man.
"Did you tell him?" he asked, changing the subject quickly.
"No. We are going up to his place in West Virginia this weekend and we can tell him together."
"Sounds Dangerous. Come to bed now. I worked a 15 hour shift last night and need a foot rub."

* * *

Done speaking with her big brother Special Agent Ravena Bryant hung up and went back to planning for the large coordinated warrant services that the DEA was planning in Richmond. The plan was to hit a number of houses simultaneously with the full cooperation and assistance of the Richmond PD. Sources were providing information that a large shipment of cocaine had just hit the area and that it had not been distributed to the low level dealers yet. Decisive action right now could throw the market into chaos for a few months.

The RPD had made a roundup of as many low level dealers as they could a couple of days ago. With the low level dealers working their way through the justice system the major dealers could be stuck with large quantities of drugs making a big bust a high confidence possibility.

Federal involvement meant that they would be able to get some of the larger dealers off the street for some real time in federal prison as opposed to the revolving door justice that the local DA seemed to be happy to employ. Eventually someone would move in to fill the vacuum as always. No matter how many drug dealers she put away there were always more coming out of the woodwork to fill the uniquely American huge craving for large quantities of drugs.

Ravena did not even drink alcohol and had no understanding of why people needed something mood and behavior altering in their lives. She did not drink much even in college. As a three season college athlete it seemed she was always in training and booze made her sedentary and dizzy more than anything. " Who needed that?" she wondered.

Glancing at her watch she realized that it was nearly 7PM. "Shit." she murmured. She was supposed to meet Jason in five minutes for dinner. Although she had never once missed a hard time for an operation or been late to a meeting for work she didn't recall ever showing up to a date on time.

Ravena knew it was dangerous to date at work. Technically she wasn't. Jason was a narcotics detective with the RPD. If everything went to hell she could always transfer to LA or somewhere else far away. He would not be able to follow easily. For now it was fun to date someone with whom she could talk about work and share some excitement. Most men didn't get her and she thought felt intimidated by her and relationships only lasted a few weeks before she got bored.

She really needed the date. She had decided that she was going to sleep with Jason tonight to relieve some of the stress she was under due to the upcoming operations. She was always more calm and ready for an operation after a night of good sex. Jason had been real sweet these last few weeks and putting in real effort too. She sent him a text letting him know she was running late and then headed out.

* * *

After the rebel compound had been destroyed Bryant skipped the impromptu celebration and returned quickly to his desk. He needed more information on the mystery doctor. He sent requests out at the highest levels and with the greatest urgency that he was allowed. Requests like these often drew attention from other analysts which resulted in other intelligence professionals taking a look at what he was looking at and making up their own requests for information.

Bryant's heart was sinking. He knew it was too late. Whatever the rebels had planned had already begun.
Last edited by Stercutus on Mon May 25, 2015 6:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be rememberèd—
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother

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Re: If God Wills It

Post by DAVE KI » Mon May 25, 2015 5:42 pm

That was great! Bet they aren't bombs though.
"We'll Fight Them, Sir!, Until Hell Freezes Over, And Then We'll Fight Them On The Ice! Sir!

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Re: If God Wills It

Post by 91Eunozs » Mon May 25, 2015 6:30 pm

Ruh Roh!

Thanks for the update... Man, this is good stuff, can't wait to see where this goes!

And love the plausible setup for long term bug out/survival too! Already has a competent and trained core team to build around...if they all survive whatever the hell's coming and can get home! :ohdear:

Edit: Oh crap, just saw the second posting! I had the page opened earlier today and just got home to read it...friggin' twofer! :clap:
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Re: If God Wills It

Post by Stercutus » Tue May 26, 2015 6:53 am

12 Kilometers North of Mosul, Iraq
R-Day -1 0600

Haider had watched the rebel leadership compound burn most of the morning from a hidden point several kilometers away. He appreciated the destruction the Americans had wrought on his behalf and wondered if they would ever know how much they had truly helped him. Certainly it was the will of God that of all the significant rebel leaders he alone survived.

The old Guard insurgency leaders had been fools. They should have taken the doctor up on his offer. They were stuck on the idea of restoring themselves to power and did not have the vision of how to achieve ultimate power. As a man who had had just reached his 40th year Haider was a man with visions, visions of the greatest of glory and now nothing stood in his way.

He had explained the plan to the other rebels leaders and he showed them a test subject. The jihadists were shocked and pleased. The doctor showed that transmission rates were near 100%. There was some unpredictability to the course of the disease but; everyone who was infected was a carrier and everyone eventually fell ill. Everyone who fell ill would die within five days, no later. The infected would spread the infection like the wind. In a few months the True Faith would inherit an empty Earth. Then they could begin anew.

A new era beginning with Haider as their leader. Insha'Allah Haider would be the one.

It had been surprisingly easy to convince them to move to the hidden compound in preparation for the final battle. Haider had explained that he alone was unworthy enough to take the risks of being outside the protection of the compound to lead the final battle. They were easily misled and they had martyred themselves for the cause.

Satisfied that none had survived the pounding that the US Air Power had given the compound Haider ordered his small convoy to emerge from their hiding spot. He sent a text message to Dr. Said informing him that he would return soon. The convoy would drive South towards his personal compound. From there they would watch world events unfold. In a few weeks the road farther South would be clear and he would lead his army to the Holiest of Cities.

Haider was unaware that he had not been the only one on the ground secretly observing the compound burn that morning. As his convoy moved South two old pickup trucks full of Bedouins moved from their own hidden spot and trailed him just out of sight.
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be rememberèd—
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother

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Re: If God Wills It

Post by Stercutus » Tue May 26, 2015 7:15 am

DEA District Office, Richmond VA
R Day-1 1600

As rain slowly turned to a drizzly mist outside, the mood inside at the Immediate After Action Review of the warrant service or "Operation Rock Breaker" as it had been called was solemn. The observation team had failed miserably on Dango Red's house. There were supposed to be six adults in the house, three likely armed. Two of the reported adults had been convicted of a number of violent crimes against people and had a history of resisting arrest.

There were actually eleven adults and four children under the age of five in Dango's house. Dango had family guests and no one had noticed.

Everything had gone to shit the second the door had been breached at the target house. Four of the adults and two of the kids had been sleeping in the living room. Some jumped up and began screaming, two men jumped out windows in bids to escape and one female headed for a back bedroom down the hall. It was absolute chaos with a lot of running around, screaming and crying.

The video from Detective Sergeant Jason Tyler's helmet cam was revealing. Jason had been the third man through the door and tasked with securing the unlit hallway to the bedrooms. The video showed his entry into the house and him securing the hallway. In the hallway it showed a woman emerging from the bedroom with a bundle in one arm and what might have been, under varying light conditions, a weapon. It wasn't a weapon. The item was actually an umbrella. Why Dango's fifth daughter was holding an umbrella in one hand and her nine month old baby in the opposite arm was never fully established.

Jason told the woman to drop the weapon. She failed to comply. She turned and screamed to shield the package, bringing the opposite arm, the one holding the umbrella up and around. Jason fired three rounds from his AR-15 short barreled rifle. Two bullets struck the woman and one struck the package she was holding. Both fell to the ground, dying.

Dango Red had not been home. The wily old drug dealer had been suspicious and was staying away from the house until his products were distributed.

* * *
The community response to the killing of the woman and her baby was swift and well organized. Community leaders demanded Jason's immediate arrest. The leaders wanted all the law enforcement officers who participated in the raid be identified and investigated. There were lots of demands, accusation and hyperbole all playing out on the 24 hour news networks.

The mayor made a speech at a press conference at 1145AM. He condemned the shooting of the woman and the child and said there would be a full investigation. He said he understood their anger and that he shared their outrage. He then stated that the police were human and made mistakes just like everyone else. Several of the city lawyers cringed at his last comment; regardless his comments did nothing to calm the people of his city.

By noon several hundred residents had gathered in the neighborhood to protest, the looters started coming out of the woodwork shortly after.

By 4PM a number of the shops in the area had been looted and a full blown riot with thousands of people was developing. News and police helicopters circled the area. Several vehicles were in flames. At least ten deaths had been reported. The day was young.

Sympathy protests had begun in Washington DC, Virginia Beach, and Baltimore. Some neighborhoods were reporting random gun fire.

By 8PM the riot was spreading to other parts of the city and had moved closer to the business district. The police were not having an easy time of resuming control of the streets.

At 9PM the Governors of Virginia and Maryland ordered a call up of their respective National Guard units to restore order in the beleaguered cities. It would be another 12 hours before they actually were organized enough to hit the streets.

The President ordered the DC National Guard to muster. He stated that this would be a prudent measure, just in case the things got out of hand.

* * *

When Telal and his brothers were children the Americans came to fight Saddam in the first war with the United States. Minutes after the first bombs fell the electricity went off and stayed off. A few days later the water pipes stopped running. The Americans had targeted every part of Iraq's infrastructure for destruction during the first war. Markets were closed and supplies no longer ran into the country, people were not only terrified they were getting hungry and thirsty.

A few days after the water stopped running some men in the neighborhood located the water main that ran into their area and forced it open. There was some pressure. Not enough to provide for the houses but enough flowing to fill buckets and drinking vessels and keep people alive. Telal took a cup and dipped it in the flow and drank some. Twenty-five years later he remembered it as the best water he had ever had.

Telal's Grandmother had known what privation was like. She had squirreled away a number of sacks of rice and flour, cans of cooking oil and some other canned goods in her larder. When the markets closed the family struggled during the war but never went hungry. Telal had never forgotten.

It took Tom an extra hour to safely arrive home from work that night. He pulled the old Ford into his carport and threw a tarp over it. Inside he checked the doors and windows to make sure everything was secure.

Tom thought it unlikely that the rioters would make it over to his block, they had so little to steal compared to everyone else in America. He knew that would not stop looters, merely move him to the bottom of the target list. The rioting seemed to be focused around the main street through the area where the shops and stores were located. As he had drove home that night a number of rioters had given his vehicle and him some serious looks. He did not know if it was his darker complexion that kept him safe but he felt really uncomfortable.

After Tom had left Iraq and settled in the United States he decided he would never pick up a gun again. Until tonight he didn't think he might need one. Although the United States had a lot of murders most of it seemed to be drug addicts or family members killing each other over stupid things. Tom had nothing to do with drugs and couldn't imagine ever shooting one of his own family members.

He went to the basement and grabbed the machete that he normally used to cut vines and weeds around the small yard. While he was there he checked on the food and water that he had stored up. He figured that they could hide inside the house for at least three months without getting anything from the store. Some of the stores in the neighborhood were going to be closed a lot longer than that.

When he returned up stairs he placed the machete on top of the cabinet that held the TV. He pulled out his cell phone and called his manager at Perdue. He told him he would not be in for a few days. The boss was surprisingly understanding. While he was talking his phone began to vibrate. Zaidu, his older brother was ringing in. He hung up on the manager and picked up on the other line.

Zaidu was very upset. He was coming home that night and wanted to meet to discuss things face to face.
Last edited by Stercutus on Tue May 26, 2015 8:35 am, edited 1 time in total.
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be rememberèd—
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother

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Re: If God Wills It

Post by rednekrampager » Tue May 26, 2015 8:16 am

Things are getting real interesting .
Get off my lawn!!

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Re: If God Wills It

Post by 91Eunozs » Tue May 26, 2015 8:57 am

^

This.

Liking the pace too...not too fast, not too slow; just right!

And thanks for the quick updates!
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Re: If God Wills It

Post by Stercutus » Tue May 26, 2015 9:23 am

Prenzlauer Berg, Berlin, Germany
R Day 1400

Sven Luftbourg, citizen of Sweden was fulfilling his destiny.

Sven had always been a volunteer. Years ago he had volunteered to help the resettled people in his homeland. He had then taken their faith and cause as his own. Last year he voluntarily took the step of joining them in battle in the Holy Land. Finally, he had volunteered to take the fight home to his former people.

He had suffered the indignity of shaving his beard and cutting his hair to blend in with European travelers and appear to be less of the jihadist that he had become. It was a flawed plan. Intelligence agents were tracking him by his passport. When he went through EU customs He was directed to a side room for "additional screening". A bag went over his head and many hands had grabbed him. He had no idea where he was now but he thought he might be underground.

Before Sven had left the caliphate his leaders had told him that he could not fail in this mission so long as he made it to Europe. He felt as though he had failed anyway. He had been fearless in battle these last few months firm in the knowledge that he was doing God's work. He was not afraid now, merely frustrated. His flight on the return to Europe had also given him a bad cold.

Sven was wrapped in layers of the tough fabric of a body containment suit. His arms and legs were bound; only his hooded head emerged from the end of the restraining body suit. He was strapped to a gurney helpless before his captors. Various leads from electrodes emerged from the suit to monitor his heart and body functions. These readings were recorded and read in another room by a bored technician.

Sven did not know how long he had been strapped down but every moment that he remained strapped down he became more and more anxious about his fate. His body was getting numb and starting to tingle strangely. He had no idea what was going to happen but he felt that whatever it was, it was going to happen soon.

Station Chief Berlin Kip Turner had come personally to the secret facility to oversee the questioning. He really missed the old days of cloak and dagger that he had grown up with. Like him, the facility was a old carryover from the Cold War. SC Berlin had used it as a safe house more than 25 years ago to hide assets from the communists. These days the nondescript building was used for another purpose.

After 9/11 the US Government thought it would be a good idea to tell their people and the world that such places existed. The idea was that it would make people feel safer. The revelation had the opposite effect on many people and now such places no longer existed on paper; just as it was during the Cold War.

A number of red flags had gone up due to the sudden departure of so many of the foreign fighters from the caliphate in such a short period of time. There was talk of some kind of major worldwide attack brewing. Orders were to use whatever enhanced interrogation techniques were needed to find out what the rebels were up to. Kip felt personal involvement would show that he was concerned. It would speed up the process and he could make the report up personally just to let the higher-ups know what a great job he was doing.

The interrogation team had decided to drag out the water board setup. SC Berlin figured the only reason they were using it was because the public hated it so much. There were plenty of other more effective techniques but this one drew a lot of criticism. Geez he thought, this guy had been part of rape gangs and running around cutting the heads off of innocent civilians for months and the press wanted to break their balls over pouring some water in his mouth. These things shouldn't have rights he figured.

Sven was wheeled in to the room strapped to his gurney. The lead interrogator pulled the hood off of Sven and explained to him what was going to happen to him. Normally they would have prepped the target for days, weeks or perhaps even months prior to enhanced interrogation. The urgency of the intelligence requests indicated that there was not time in this case. SC Berlin doubted they would learn a thing from the terrorist. They were often very committed and did not like to talk without a few weeks of conditioning.

The integrator turned the water on and demonstrated what was going to happen to Sven if he did not talk. As soon as the water was turned on the target broke in to a profuse sweat, began shaking and drooling and babbling in a low voice. SC Berlin moved a little closer to try to make it out. Even though the target was securely wrapped in a containment suit he strained at the gurney bindings by flexing. One of the bindings around the chest snapped. Everyone in the room froze, no one in the room had seen this before.

A new binding was ordered brought in and the interrogation continued. As the binding was put into place Sven flexed just enough to bring his mouth around to SC Berlin's arm and hit bit down furiously. Kip screamed in pain and began striking Sven in the head with his free hand. After several hits Sven released, leaned his head back and began praying.

Kip did not know it yet; but his career climbing days in the bureaucracy of the CIA were over.

Tonight SC Berlin would attend the annual President's reception and dinner of Foreign Ambassadors at Schloss Bellevue as part of his official duties. When dinner was served Kip would stand up suddenly and with a glazed look in his eye and drool dripping from his chin, bite and scratch terrified people who had been sitting near him at dinner. He would display amazing strength and speed for a paunchy man in his mid 50's. The German presidential security detail would tackle and capture him eventually but not before several of them were also bitten or scratched. In all he would bite a total of nine people and scratch another eleven.

All those bitten and scratched would become infected.

The German State Dinner would officially mark R-Day around the world. The shocking news footage of the crazed CIA Station Chief running around the room like a madman with blood dripping from his mouth and hands would soon become an all too familiar sight to everyone remaining alive on the planet.

Four days later Kip would be dead from dehydration along with thousands of others around the world. The reign of the eighth species of the Lyssavirus: Magna Celeri Lyssavirus or "Super Rabies" as the media would dub it, had only just begun.
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be rememberèd—
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother

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Re: If God Wills It

Post by Stercutus » Tue May 26, 2015 9:25 am

The Pentagon, Alexandria VA Sub-Basement Level 3
R Day 1300

Bryant had not gotten much sleep in the past 24 hours. That morning he had practically begged DOD to share everything they had learned so far with DHS. His recommendation was to arrest and isolate every single returning jihadist in some kind of medical isolation ward. His suggestion went over like a fart in church.

Martin was still celebrating the decapitation of the rebel leadership from the night before and did not want anything to rain on his parade. The military officers that they worked with were receptive to Bryant's idea but wanted to gather more information. Their sources all indicated that the insurgents did not have the resources to develop any kind of bio weapon. The real sticking point was the politics of the matter, so he had spent all morning digging for more evidence.

Roger came up to his cube. "Have you been watching the news?" he asked.

"No, busy. What is going on?" Bill replied.
"I doubt that it is related to what you are working on... but just on the off chance.... come over and check out the news footage."

Bill went with Roger and a couple of minutes later was watching the former SC Berlin expanding his diet well beyond the normal provender of State dinners. It was all over the news. The story was starting to nudge out the area riots that had sprung up yesterday after the police shooting in Richmond.

Each news network had called in medical experts to explain what was wrong with Kip Turner even though they had never examined him, performed a single test or seen any lab results. One medical expert stated that Kip's symptoms appeared a lot like rabies but this was "nearly impossible" because Germany had been declared "rabies free" by the World Health Organization. There had been no cases there in over a decade and whatever he had worked much faster and a little differently than rabies.

"He looked pretty damn rabid to me. One minute he is sitting there calmly digging into some bratwurst and the next he is vampire." Bill said.
"Yeah, do you think it is possible? Could the insurgents have come up with some kind of biological weapon? I mean these guys don't even have the resources to provide basic care. There is no way they could have developed a bio weapon." Roger reasoned.

On the TV monitor the newsman suddenly did a double take. He was a professional but Bryant was a professional also. He saw the look of fear in the newsman's eyes. The Germany story cut to some cell phone footage of a disturbance at the Atlanta Airport. In the international terminal a man had been shot by airport security after biting several fellow travelers.

Bill and Martin looked at each other.

Bill broke the silence and said; "I am going with the odds of those two incidents being related at near 100%"
Martin didn't answer at first. Finally he said; "Do you remember where you were for 9/11? Because I am getting that feeling now that the whole thing is going to come down on all of us."
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be rememberèd—
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother

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