AK-47 gunfire rattled
from behind us as a shadowy Federal picket advanced. Bitter bitch.
“You had to talk to Pavi.”
Not just mini-balls;
screeching 25-06-cal nipped our ears. My Leicas picked them out of
Manitou Parks woody southern shoulder; against riflemen brush
covered camoed sons-a-bitches till they hit the rose garden. Then
militia snipers would bleed them. Now, the girl wants metaphysics.
“He sent the message, - - messages, he did the planning, he did the
killing, he did the escaping.”
“That's more than you
do when you take my ass.”
“I don't expect a
million hits webday either.”
Snickering - - “You
said Pavis last four emails went both ways.” - - obscenely. “Bet
he's an easy lay.”
I grunted. “NOW!”
A shotgun slug had
chipped thru my knee-plate, and the girl was quicker than me, even
carrying the digicam. Legs pounded and pounded and pounded. I
stumbled behind, a weaving, stuttering stumble while 37-mm frags
exploded where we had been or might have been or - - obscene cheers
from the line of oaks and a crackle of A-16 hard-points. National
Guard; unexpected. We dove into a shell crater, and rolled across
granite spurs took squatting positions. You and me babe. Back to
back. One A- -3 blood-stain sharing another. Her 38-cal Colt and my
357 Dan Wesson scanned the crater rim. It wasn't hard to find. Both
barrels sent a useless patter of lead against the metal duck hiding
behind Manitou Parks greenhouse.
“Wish we had a Peshi
TOW.” Puffing and spitting she bit her lip and said. “Can the
Seals hold HRI?”
HRI - - not just my
webzine, but top half of a four story brick Victorian. The lapped
walnut entryway sat at the curve quarter-way up east hill, skirting
the borders of Manitou Park and backing stone hardpoints of the old
Manitou estate. “Three more special-force guys defected from
Kitsap.” Like I had anything to do with that, beside hiring the
first batch of Seals. “They brought two docs , more Russian
14.5mm autos and an 81-mm mortar.”
“Gives us a bundle,
eh” the girl snickered. “Fucking Kshama released and armed
four-hundred kidskin molesters from the local perv-factory; another
400 came in by train - - the Feds gave them Ranger Lieutenants - -
or don't your read your own morning copy?” She bit me above the
mouth and I bled some.
“Jake wrote HRI
morning addition, you and Jake - - “ The girl cringed, like I
might slap her. My own blood tasted dull; I knew the numbers, but
needed to eat more vitamins. Funny thing about the rail-lines.
Both sides could blow-tracks in an afternoon, but both sides moved
men and provision using their own diesel engines and neither side
could repair damaged track for a month - - for two - - no
Muzzi-wogs poisoning wells in the great-white-north so the tracks
stayed open, unmolested on alternate days for each side. “Nothing
westward changed overnight. City police and free-rangers hold
downtown, and everything north of Washington Ave.”
“Will you stay to
fight!”
“Bedroom closet has
two Remington 308-cal semis.”
“What's left of the
Spokane militia?”
Any numbers were good
enough. “Two battalions, since two brigades were sent to Mt Rainier
to push back narco.MEX raidiers. Pavi had almost got Sand Point
fundies outa their lakeside bunkers. The Government oil-shale lab
revolted, and since biker and Nevada air-clubs joined them for fuel
it's a damned-well army they can swing.”
“They - - ?”
“ Lots of Yggdrasil
people; hard right militia, ex-military and very tough men. Earth
and sky.”
The girls eyes
brightened. “You think?” She would have fucked right there,
before putting 38-lead into my guts. I spit out a bloody mud chew.
“No, Federal pervs won't capture the HRI building.” Not us
either. We would not allow capture. Not by them. Decided yesterday
after a fuck worth having.
“Now,” she hissed
as a stream of 22-mm tracers raced over our head threading toward
the rump Federal battalion gathered south, a vipers nest of
rapists, paedofiles and stranded narco.MEX cholos that - - once
armed - - had advanced across Spoken from the prison. Our militia
defended high points in Manitou Park; they had once owned the city.
Bitterly militia gave street by street, waiting for the Sand
Point Nazi brigade to run in from the north. We ran - - again
stutter-stepped as M1-A rounds chipped at grey granite outcrops and
when we belted into the bullet- scarred line of leaf-heavy oak trees
fear had frozen our blood and we had nothing left to give.
A bevy of 7.62-cal
slugs danced dirt between us; strong arms pulled us behind a tree
trunk. “Think you're feckin-A batman,” spit a guy in a three
piece suit. The unexpected battle had backed that far down the
combat ladder. He was watching the girl - - staring - - lusting.
Shrapnel had slit her A- -3 and the breast showed bloody, scorched
and un-noticed , as unaware battle-line tit mattered. Women at war
will fight, but not like men. I learned that in the caves of New
Israel.
“Bugger's got to talk
with Pavi.”
Eyes pull away toward
me. “Oh he does just so - - - and I've got to shit white.” The
suit was a twenty-something slinging an M1-carbine ; 20-clip; coat,
tie, tailored slacks he carried half a ripped right sleeve,
patched with a seeping-red bandage. He gave a fuck-you salute with
that right hand. “So this is Scranton. Since our unit came over
from Seattle I read HRI web bullshit most mornings. Is any of it
true?” He took a Camel straight I offered. “Any except - - except
this crap?” He waved at the sleet of bullets whipping over our
heads.
“True? Only G*d is
true.” True enough, I thought to shock Washington DC
limo-liberals; but those HRI shilled actions brought Seattle into
revolt, led by homosexuals now more hoplite than fagot. Other cities
too. Some fags wised up, like those who bled-out to liberate Puget
Sound, but the kittenish soul-rot festered. This simpering
bastard. I thought who, what, where, how - - -
Suit twitched and
babbled. “The fight at Olympia was a rut - - who fucked first
lived on first blood. Every man who escaped the airport got burned
out. Pavis' band had to fight at the terminal to put-down Boeing
Federal guards. Then beat-off tarmac snipers Kshama set up. By the
end they were toast.”
Wasn't much, but a
bogart left of my Camel; I cupped paws and sucked. Ex-liberal
sympathy is what he wanted - - the pussy brigade of LBTG all grown up
and simpering while Fed supported Muzzi-wogs slashed their throats,
and the ISIL - - AJIB duo gutted their bleating lovers. Was this one
of the galvanized fighters? Suit had bushy eyebrows, and the
honest face of a practiced politician. I rammed the bolt home. “Where
is Pavi?” Suit flinched. “Who's he with and how long will he stay
in Spokane?”
“How would I know,”
snarked suit? I hear the airplane landed, everyone cleared out
taking militia SUVs .”
“Which one were you
in?”
Glazed eyes sparked
red. “Fuck you - - I came to Spokane three months ago.”
“Suit and all - - - “
Girlie whine. “Will,
the bastard's just - - - gawd sakes tell him what you already
know!“
From the airbase - - if
you couldn't guess - - a missile bristling control-vans rose on a
long-tailed barrel of flame, curved north and vanished above the
blue. I followed it with the Leicas telephoto. More 37-cal smashed into the
tree-line. We ate dirt, but the sprinkle of regulars held steady
return fire. Two snipers with National Guard uniforms, A-5 armour
and 338-cal long-barrels came scrambling to kneel beside us. An M-60 team reported to one,
then scrambled south. Anybody could be general. I told half of what I already knew
while they fired at leafy brown helmets.
“Story is palsy that
after Governor Inslee was beheaded, Federal courts forced Stalinist
Bantu Kshama Swaant as his replacement. Lawyers sued, citizens
complained - - rejecting the gunbarrel citizens just sat
to be butt-fucked by the Feds and the Feds aren't shy. Seattle City Council
complained they were losing a sexually bivalent evangelist, kinda
like a river smelt in California ag-canals. Big surprise - -
promotion didn't bother her, even if she understood the language.
Liberal Senators admitted for a sleeze-easy squeezer she was the
best blo-job in Olympia. Bitch promptly freed and armed all state
imprisoned sex-offender; fair's fair coastal liberals wonked and
threw in Bantu bangers, kommi true-believer clutches and scattered
bands of narco.MEX raiders. Trained in two weeks by sympathetic
drug-addled forest rangers they were marched north-east to fight a
second Battle of Spokane.”
“You natives ready
for it? My software group was still cleaning Stuxnet from the
power-plant voltage converters; Federals code real good. Us ready for
battle? Not even - - !”
We didn't expect them
for another four days, and this time their pickets caught us
knickers-down.”
I looked at the two new
men. “You heard any different?”
Months before - - with
Seattle ruled by Debian whiteboards under a
Committee-of-Correspondence - - the first bloodbath pitted a flood
of escaped Seattle yellow-belly liberals against an unorganized, but
determined county militia. With 270-cal deer rifles firing against
M-14s, the reverse-rout had been a Federal and lib-com humiliation.
Kshama thought the Seattle uprising a pot-headed freakshow; the
proletariat needed discipline. She thought. That same night her
Attorney General - - Ingo Pavi, a rag-head and supposed globalist
pimp blew off her head with a 45-cal Glock , snatched a Dreamliner
787 and headed east from Olympia with his family, State Police
SWAT, National Guard snipers, two dozen members of the legislature
all reported armed and two squads of dark militia. He brought a
small army east. But, east where - - now that was the question
worth a million-hit day for HRI.
“Boeing people tell
me the 787 has fuel economy like a 1968 Oldsmobile. Assuming the
airplane left Seatac with gas-tanks half-filled, then the flight
must stop in Spokane for fuel. No other option.:
“Vancouver?”
“Canadians shoot
Americans on sight anywhere near the border. Cars, boats, trains and
planes; Brits orders since a Welshman now runs the country.”
Official like. “You
talk lots, and know too much Scranton,” snarked the suit.”
Out of the loop - -
out with the in-crowd - - “Blood in the veins for HRI,” I
snarked back and suits carbine wavered just the slightest. You know
when stuff goes to shit. My 357-cal was loose in a casual way
under my left shoulder. “Since Federal raiders landed at the
railroad station , Portland has been a slaughterhouse, with bodies
clogging the Columbia River and Fed installed 100-mm anti-aircraft
guns on the HP Campus.”
“Mafia makes planes
pay to land at Las Vegas.” The girl was sure of it. She had once
dealt black-Jack at the Sahara and thought she had fucked all the
right people. She wanted the story published, like suit wanted a new
right hand. But, without corroboration, backup, second source HRI
never published a story no matter how lubricious.
“Every - - - “ a
75-mm TOW snaked into the tree-line and cut short her rap.
Talk is fat, a TOW
burns bright and hungry with three sharp fins, a conish chrome head
and black sensors behind the cone. This one snakes between us - -
two arms-length you can see the metal blur and feel its hot breath
before hearing snik snik snik - - and its silver cone snatched-off
the suits head like a barber shaving a whisker and leaving a
blood-spray passing away thick as the green rippling oak leaves.
Not really the present or future it tosses the ragged body through
the 2nd line of trees and leaves it burning in a clump.
Then - - later - - the explosion beyond the roadway. Pulled through
the stage of being aware, we are on the ground vomiting while the
snipers work bolts and spit long-legged tracers into a house-line.
Two large explosions to
the south turn blue sky burning phosphor. Trails of flame tumble
ground-ward. I rise beside the girl her digicam grinding, and the
armed men slammed us to the dirt. Then - - I count them - - eight
JDAM ground explosions. One, two, three - - - eight. The granite
infested ground rattles like a jar of marbles.
Death moves fast and I
listen to snipers rap. “You wanna die, Scranton? Like those Nazi
F-28s? For fighter- bombers they got too far south, too close to
the Fairchild airbase.”
“The Air Force
declared neutral.”
“Yeah, and snakes
don't eat kittens.” He spit. “Neutral means ten miles away.
Their Nike-4s keep the sky above them clean. Easy to die in this
police action.”
“Mean Civil War
number Two doncha?” I stared into the field and turned back. “Suit
died.”
“Died? You mean
Senator Hughs? Don't figure he cared much.” Sniper hunched over,
intensely filling his 20-round 338-clip. “You ever been in a real
war?” I said nothing. “Hughs - - Republican from the Oregon
border territory - - his wife and daughter were raped and burned
on the Olympic airport tarmac. A couple hundred Isis immigrants –
we call 'em Obama Oreos - - jumped us hustling across to the
plane. Yeah, yeah we know Obama's long dead, but the evil men do -
- “
“Yeah I heard the
story.” I looked at the girl; her face had bleached white, hands
and arms the color of a tombstone. “Lucky the plane wasn't hit.”
“Dreamliner 787 is
built with that self-healing plastic; drill a hole it refills, but
not people.” That wasn't enough for the second sniper. “I was
riding a luggage cart with my spotter - - my girlfriend, she just
made corporal - - when a wall of dark slugs started the shooting.
Our body armour took hits. Ragheads flooded the loading zone. Some
of us ducked the Muzzi firestorm and some were just lucky returning
fire. We both wasted a clip, reloaded and fired again - - I made
it - - maybe our Glocks took down a couple-three head-choppers. ”
Heavy ordinance trawled
the blue sky and explosions ravaged the far edge of Spokane River
Canyon. Those shells were 203s and you didn't find them at Ace
Hardware; two hundred pounds of snark would rip metal and guts from
Federal resolve. Earth and sky; I was trying to match them up. He
started crawling away. I said. “Sorry about your girlfriend. Did
Pavi make it? He knows all HRI needs to know.”
It a quiet thing most
times, an end or a beginning. Scratch of stones, 404ERROR strings in
a /16 ipv4 address block, wind-whistle, a message runners pause - -
hell has not forgotten you and such a ragged quiet descended over
Manitou Park. Machine noise massive and uncertain rumbled somewhere
far distant. Shadows of men stretched by the sun, but shortened by
300 meters darted along Federal lines. Then chaos. Three more JDAMS.
Closer, flashing, shocking and the brittle drumbeat of Gatling guns.
A sweep of mortar rounds hit the Federal positions pissing up dirt
showers and tossing bodies like pine-cones. Four M-60 tanks firing
and dashing threaded a path from flank left and a rash of 25-mm
turrets and swastikas spread out behind them. Shouts swept down our
tree-line and six rifle squads howling a Pict battle-cry broke
into the green. For'ard!
Both snipers stood
watching the tanks. “That's the Wittmann brigade.”
Itchy. New
bullet-clips SNACKED into their magazines. “Sorry to say Mr.
Scranton. Ain't no Pavi - - he'd been shot, assassinated the
previous afternoon. A well kept secret - - everyone knew after
Kshamas bitch secretary got water-boarded.” He looked away. “You
ever been certain, Scranton?”
“Yeah - - certain
that bullshit floats liked whipped creame.”
Sniper laughed. “Pavi
did have his say, only much earlier. We heard him. Twenty-four
senators brought pistols to Kshamas talk last night. Twenty-two slugs
hit her. I know; I counted. Those involved scattered, then re-joined
just before the airport. We joked and swilled bourbon having done
justice sworn to our Constitution and got home free. ” He was
running toward the Federal lines, screaming and firing - - -
We're
home with another HRI. Returning to port, Ladies and gentlemen good
night.