“Groovy quarter-wave paint-job,” I jib. “Don't have a Rad-Lad to blank-out that static and side-band snooping?”
He's chewed off the Pennsylvania-leaf wrapper. “Yeah, bitch right after martinis and caviar, or counter-AA rockets. And don't bet-a-fuck on the twilight PC12, not in this mess. You expect to get picked up going west, but I know the pilot. He has three kids and a hot wife. Mebby sleeps late today.”
My watch sez nothing, but the ticker reads nine-AM. I cover Ms Ks hair with a twine camo scarf, but landing or being awake or digi-caming another million-hit-day for HRI does not please. Seventy-five miles back we dodged sniper fire to pick her out of a hot swale; three dead Jayhawk militia got shallow-pits, three stones and a Psalm. It gets casual … the Skymaster is a heavy airframe that damps flight vibrations and mebby any desire to find solid ground twice traced and three-times shelled by enemy geo-crafts.
NOW, I think ! Kansas meadows firm, but remain green through June. The grass landing strip comes up in the Skymasters windscreen just 30 seconds before touchdown. It's beyond a plot of blue, orange and red glass landing markers and a brier-bound nest of 25-mm tree-trimmers. Didn't expect Scrums Militia raiders to cut-grass, but the front prop just wickers green fuzz our Cessna top-mounted wings ignore.
“Have a nice fucking day, Scranton.” Rubber patches on the 7.62-cal bullet holes in the fibreglass & Aramid skin hold solid.
Three hard men, armed and armoured and camoed in the style of Ukraine Speznaz leap from the planes rear door. Our look-outs, they clear round the Skymasters position, and four local farmers in 3-As and Winchester 30-06-cal rifles join them. There's talk and shared radio rap. We're out also, with back-packed HRI recording equipment. Tents sit back from the airstrip, tents and dugouts and wooden pallets scattered-away …. like puddle-jumpers can crash and Federal F4 warbirds just don't stop strumming their 20-mm shitrain . Stones-throw West , radar screening & French Mistrals lear from a hill-slit; they're deadly against both the F4s and Chicom ZBD-97s.
Two men exit a log bunker – wave - and we move toward them. It's been raining; the grass feels fresh and slick and innocent. Distant 35-mm rifle-fire rattles us all. Such fire has a muffled echo, across this open terrain that makes distance hard-to-judge. A sound-seeker disk places the vibs NNE … I look that way.
The Sargent says. “Just about where Scrums raiders had planned to sweep.” He checks an iPOD map. Young kid, Sargent, punk-style hair, cheap watch and a knife-scar across his chin … “we put pickets out that way. Nobody gets through while Scrums chewing on them.”
“Yeah nobody,” I grouse. 'Heard that before,' I think. “Why waste 35-mm rounds against a mini-14?”
Sargent starts to respond, then starts to curse, then sez, “our front line is everywhere, bastard. You and the girl armed?”
I look around. “Yeah, 357-cal.”
“Get M-15s from the weapons tent. Prisoners get treated rough out here, so don't be one.”
Behind us, the Skymaster has sucked dry three 20-gallon fuel battons. Pilots are out of the crap-stations, lug a bucket of coffee to the plane and circle it, poking flaps and tightening bolts. They're ready to take off. One yells. “No blo-jobs in a field, Scranton unless your neck needs a shave.” Their plane engines whine bitchy, thrumm-up and the aircraft carving brown-mud trails takes off low and mean and stays there along a tree-line as it buzzes east. Ever felt left-behind?
“Where's Scrum,” I ask ?
“Like I said, pilgrim, on patrol, raiding the Bluebellys ass.” Current lingo, I note, 'pilgrim' from the 1960s counter-culture and Bluebelly from the 1st American Civil War. *ASS* is strictly a modern term – assigned service section - a rut of armed mobiles whoring out a slice of prairie; killing everything with a nose to breath. Sargent snickers. “You plan on taking out a Mobster and joining him?”
“I'd take yours. Pack-in the digicam Ms K.”
“You need the Lieutenants permission for a mobile ...” Sargent sneers. “Besides, look at her eyes, dazed and confused. She doesn't have the pants for it!”
Right now too true. She is biting the death-brew without a mug. Nervous, distracted and fishing for time. “W-Who replaces c-cunt Hillary,” stutters Ms K? She's pawing the short-barrel 4-shot 357-cal Rugar under her left breast. Both paw and stutter recent, while I was in DC , from an ambush she didn't expect. It's like that, killing and the blood. She killed two Bluebelly teeners breaking free.”
I've got a paw on her shoulder and she leans into the force. “Nothing will happen till we reach the bunker.”
“You're here!” Scrums Lieutenant slides in rapping to Ms K. “Sorry about your Jayhawks. How long were you out?” He's a hard-bitten kid with cold eyes and bullet-burn on his right cheek.
“Ten days,” Ms K. shivers. “Time enough to map hydro-turbines, space enough to document all Federal Hillsdale Lake gofasts. Must be twenty of them, and two gunboats with 57-mm ordnance.”
“Our troopers .. your guides … they die good?”
She became Minerva, ripping away another seam of her life. “Militia never die good. They died slow, and never stopped shooting as they bled out, sniping one Bluebelly after another while we fought for position: any cover beside a landing zone.” Fuck.
She was the last trooper. “We pinged the satellite, but maintained local radio silence till we talked the plane down. Everyone was still alive and then, plane taxi 30 yards away they sent me first … “
“You get vids of ... fuck, sure you did, them running for the plane, shooting and dieing. The families will want some pics.” Lieutenant scibed-out a passcode and URL.
“I'll send them over, when bandwidth gets cheap”. She meant when GIMP washed away gore. “Will told me about bitch-Hillary. Hope she died slow.”
“Well now, isn't that question the Militias good fortune, that Clinton mafia and Rawlsian globalists butcher each-other.” Damme, I spit. Another feckin-A academic … Scrum favors them to distract while he fights.
“Best that her own people put her down.” I snigger. “Rats whisper that Clinton Foundation pay-rolled the Black Panther who shot Obama. Figures a payback was coming.”
Lieutenant asks. “Obamas' killer have any status of his own?”
“None!” Banski had told me. “His gang claims the refueling concession at Cincinnati Airport. Or I should say the delivery trucks; actual bangerbois couldn't refuel an RC drone with a squeeze-pump. ”
“Jackson, that really his name? You know this shit, Scranton.”
“Yeah, Jackson was his real name; so was Barkevious D’quell. Fuck, whether you called him Tom, Dick or Harry from gangs POV he provided muscle for vig collection. Another assistant thug to a legit Chicago triggerman. Obama stepped over the line, stepped uninvited onto the niggers territory and BANGZ the only plan Jackson knows.”
“Kinda primitive.” A trooper squad with two wounded , returning bloodied and ragged from patrol has stopped to listen. “Had we run across him, a field trial is what Obama would have gotten … screw Bronskis' shit … before he swung from a peach tree. And Levine?”
“POTUS killers are in short supply, Corporal.” All troopers had their M-16s ateasy-arms, but no reason to aggravate hair-triggers. “Pritzker was one of the few globalist Jews that escaped Militia snipers during the first five months of insurrection. Christ that was a mess, suppressing progressive, IDF and ISIL assassins.”
“Liberty does come from a gunbarrel.”
“As long as it's yours! Only one funny angle –- discovering that SUPREME Ginsberg had been dead for five years ... souless, thoughtless, a progressive atavar & charade years before being shot dead! We don't know exactly when programmers weaponized her. Ha !! A GOOGLE puppet-master ran her neo-Stalinist AI, while the collagen-creame skin and flesh burned energy from a fist-size thorium reactor under the skull. FACEBOOK clouded her memory ; synthetic blood actually was weaponized, carrying botulism toxin so if she ever scratched you … it's said Scalia was immune, since they argued over opera, but he did die funny. Ginsberg vanished during that night … Christ-on-cross can't get more golem than that!”
“Didn't anyone ever touch her?”
“Not for years. She always wore that black robe and SOD scarf.”
“Quite a coven of witches on the SUPREMES. Fit perfect with bitch-in-chief Hillary.”
“But neither Obama nor Hillary were ever targeted by Militia … lone wolves excepted … given the anti-Regicide thing of Bronski. Of-course no telling if a Militia scouting party killed his keepers and ran him down. “
The Lieutenant. “Funny how both Ginsberg and Obama.husain hated white western creativity; puppy twins of the same rabid bitch. Obama, because Bantu can never produce modern value; just too stupid. His job was to cripple white effort, blind the far-sighted, drag down Western success to the failure level of Bantu. Of-course he'd never produced anything of value himself. Then contra-wise. Ginsberg! She felt Aryans could never create or produce as well as Semites; white Aryan success, northern Euro-success was a fluke –- an historical fumble, a butchershop gain for gentiles her lifes work and grail was to eliminate.”
“Quite the Jewbitch ubermench, while Obamas yank was his kommi-stupid, nigger father. Wonder if they ever explicitly shared those themes?”
“Banski and the Militia did!” Laughs go all round, and a city-rolled joint passes finger-to-finger as Scrum would never permit.
I recalled. “HRI recorded the crucial debate among field commanders. Classic yeomanry real-time rhetoric. Douglas and Paine would have been proud, even with Banski winning over the strong-nativists and Redskins! Iroquois wanted to spit-and-roast Obama over charcoal! Can't reveal much, but fact is a Slovak gal with big tits and AK-12 thought her voice sounded too common to be made history. She had a guy who only talked to her in bed, so the debate was never broadcast. HRI still has the tapes.”
“Turns out our reluctance really pissed off the green-guy progressive wing of the Federals. They broke into Rush Limbaughs studio – he supported the nokill decision – and shot him through the plexi.”
“Like 9/11 , financed by Saudi Arabians?”
“Except for fringe libertarians who support crony capitalism astrue freedom, certainly! Course Hillary knew shit, and appointed Levine to the SUPREMES, cause she could give the womans point-of-view. One more ball-buster for Jesus! Little did Hill-babe imagine, how modern woman views have fled upstream. Now, Levine is Pritzkers' poodle.”