Ghosts of a Forgotten Battle
Ghosts of a Forgotten Battle
By Altan Khanzadeh
Copyright 2011 Altan Khanzadeh
Published by Justin Harris on behalf of Altan Khanzadeh
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Prologue
A chill wind blew through the room, as though it was an omen of the ill will of its occupants. This room was completely empty, save for a large table and few chairs, watched over by a lone light.
“Mr. President, welcome to you and your wife.” greeted a man with a quiet, mouse-like voice. “Are you sure you want to go through with this, once you do, there will be no turning back.”
“Yes, I am sure.” a deep-voiced man replied. “The people in my country seem to react negatively to the ideals of my colleagues, despite that it is best for them.”
“And you, madam?” asked the quieter man.
“I told you already, yes.” Responded a slightly subdued woman’s voice. “My husband has been too kind in his words about the people of our country… Of course, we would not have gotten as far as we have without you, Mr. Slansky.”
“It is nothing at all, madam, I would gladly spend my vast fortune help you both. Provided you both hold up your end, and dethrone my former people from their position, just like was done at Warsaw, Belslen, and many other places throughout Europe in my youth.” A soft, almost sinister voice replied. Upon closer inspection, the voice’s owner, Gordon Slansky, was a small elderly man, whose glasses made his eyes appear too large for his head. “And you, President Mat Assad Li, it has a nice ring to it, don’t you agree?”
“Hahaha, all in due time, my friend,” He replied. The light accentuated Li’s kindly, Malay visage as he leaned forward.
“Nothing will go wrong dear.” The woman’s voice replied.
“I have spent decades studying the tactics of our forbearers and mob psychology, we will not lose.” Tabitha Li informed her husband. “Isn’t that right?” she questioned leaning forward, revealing the similar Asian facial structure of her husband, save for her lighter skin.
“Oh yes, of course.” The man with the mouse-like voice replied.
renunciations, I assume you know the penalty for apostasy from Islam is death?”
“It hasn’t changed anything.” The senator answered.
“Excellent. Oh, look at the time! Good luck to you, Senator.”
“Luck won’t be a problem, I guarantee it.” Mat Li responded with a mischievous smile.
The clock radio’s blaring alarm was more than enough to wake him up, although Seth Casey preferred the sun that was on his face by far. “I have really got to get a new one of those,” He muttered as wiped the matted brown hair out of his eyes.
After showering and dressing, Seth switched on the kitchen television and began to tune out its drone, especially due to the speech by the man who should not have been in the campaign for president, Mathir Assad Li.
Seth just did not trust him for some reason. Maybe it was the fact that he had no problem associating with shady characters, the fact that his wife
Tabitha had been deeply involved in his political career since day one and constantly insulted the American people, or maybe it was just that his supporters treated him as some sort of figure immune from any criticism. Many would actually find the skepticisms of one so young (Twenty-seven) quite strange.
Unwilling to ponder these matters any longer, Seth put his camera and file folder into his case, and started on the walk to work. Strolling through the dilapidated neighborhoods, he gave a glance to the buildings, many of which used to be quite nice apparently.
“How could this happen to such a beautiful city in such a short time?” Seth thought. If you spoke to anyone who grew up in the 1950’s, they would agree that Chicago, Illinois was quite a nice city.
For him the hour’s walk seemed to take no time at all as he was already at the sliver of a building where he worked.
Sitting down at his corner desk, Seth swept the photos across the surface.
“Nice pictures you got there, Casey” a sort of sardonic woman’s voice said.
“Ms. Dawson. I didn’t notice you there.” Seth replied slightly surprised.
A tall, blonde woman, Abigail Dawson could actually look the 5 foot 10 Seth directly in the eye.
“Did you get the photographs from the Li rally?” Dawson asked.
“Yes, and it was…disturbing to say the least.” Seth responded.
“The adoring, almost spellbound crowds, the personality cult, it’s kind of a bad omen, don’t you think?”
“Yeah, well I’ve seen creepier events, and keep in mind I’m thirty eigh…twenty five. Anyway, go review your files again.” She finished quickly before walking off.
“That here, that film there…” Seth muttered to himself.
“Hey Seth, can you help me find the development chemicals?” a somewhat curious voice inquired.
“Don’t tell me you lost them again, Cole.” Sighed Seth, as he reached into one of his desk drawers and laid two bottles on it. “Seriously, keep your things in better order. You’ve been working here three months.”
The tall, lanky Cole Bayer gave off the air of a particularly energetic person, if not for his mated black hair, one might have thought him Seth’s younger brother.
“Yes mother.” Cole huffed as he uncharacteristically sulked off.
Glancing through a book for photography techniques, Seth began to notice how blindingly bright the overhead light was, and it was only noon. “I’ll just close my eyes for a second, nobody will notice.” (On its busiest days, the studio had about twenty people working) Of course, by the time he opened his eyes again, it was four-thirty.
“How convenient” thought Seth before throwing on his jacket and heading home.
Walking for about forty-five minutes, a rather calm voice called out; “Hello Seth how was work?”
“Awful, Dr. Flynn.” Seth called back “So how have you been?
“Oh, just perfect, my wife notified me of a pig’s corpse left on our doorstep,” The doctor replied with a smile “Come in, come in!”
The hospitable Dr. Flynn, a bespectacled, heavily bearded of small stature, somehow gave off an air of serenity.
“So doctor, did your vandals make many statements praising Mat Li?” Seth (half) jokingly inquired as he sat down
“Very funny, Seth.” The doctor chuckled, “but in all seriousness Seth, some of the rhetoric from his supporters is… frightening to say the least,”
“How frightening?” Questioned Seth
“Let’s just say, I wouldn’t want to get on their bad sides any more than I already have.
Flynn answered dourly.
Seth let out a hearty laugh. “Doctor, I respect you, but here’s why you’re wrong, one: Li is corrupt, even by this city’s standards, two: he’s more red than that tomato soup I ate for lunch, the election results come in tomorrow morning, I guarantee you he’ll lose. Six already, I’ve got to get home.”
“Just be careful out there Seth.” The doctor advised the departing Seth.
I
Cole didn’t think much of Seth’s absence from the gym that morning. “He probably worked out for two hours already today.
And it’s only 9:15!” he thought.
While trying his hand at the free weights, a tall slightly muscled figure entered the gym.
“Hey, Seth. Can you help me out with these? Show me what I’m doing wrong.” He called.
Unresponsive, Seth began working with one the weight benches.
“Seth, I have a tip for you.” Cole said
“And what might that be, Cole?” Seth grumbled
“It’s been three months, Li won…Again. Stop sulking and accept it.”
“Yeah, you’re right, I’ve never been one to complain.” said an upright Seth. “Still, it’s kind of strange, in all his years as a politician, Jack Gibson never directed one cent back to his district. And yet he was allegedly the master of some grand conspiracy to rig the election.”
“Stranger things have happened.” rambled Cole “Like I heard of an incident where-“
Getting the hint to leave before getting caught in one of his acquaintance’s long winded, “Sorry I can’t stay, but I have to finish this project for work that I keep putting off” Seth lied poorly, while heading for the door.
He had only been president for two months, but Mat Li began to feel very comfortable in his new office. It was almost as though he felt it his birthright to be here. His wife was particularly fond of the red coat of paint for the Oval Office.
“Tabitha, this is about as far as we can get. I don’t think we should push for any more power.” Li said calmly
“It was a gamble using these methods in the first place.”
“Nonsense!” his wife reacted “Mathir, you remember, ‘By any means necessary’, right?”
“What of the Congress?” Mr. Li asked, “The masses will start to notice that there’s something wrong after a while.”
His wife/coconspirator had to stifle a fit of laughter.
“Don’t count on that. You would be surprised what ’persuasion’ can do. But you are right; some unflattering information to this administration might get out sooner or later.”
“What do you propose, First Lady?” Questioned Li
“Something the sheep won’t object to.” She replied
“Seth, did you hear someone tried to assassinate Mat Li?”
Cole asked him nonchalantly.
“No, I did not.” Seth replied sleepily. “Couldn’t this wait until morning? Ah come in anyway.”
“He said that he, “Hated everything” Li stands for. I’ve got a bad feeling about the next few months, Seth. Don’t believe me; he’s speaking in a little while. Combining that with the car bomb they the found in front of Congress…”
Seth halfheartedly motioned his excitable friend over to the couch, turned on the television, and as promised, was the kindly face of Mathir Li.
“Citizens of America, as you no doubt have heard there was an attempt on my life by a murderous extremist. This is a grave insult not just to this country, but to the principles of our nation.
Extremists like him do not act alone; they must have been influenced by purveyors of hatred and disunity. They Are no better than common fascists. These are not the imaginary threat their apologists and fellow travelers would like you to believe. These neo-Nazis are teaching at your children’s schools, in your churches, some you even call friend and neighbor. These are the same creatures that left truck bombs at ten shopping centers nationwide with the aim to take as much innocent life as possible.
So that is why the congress has unanimously passed, and I have approved, a series of anti-fascist laws, to root out these extremists wherever they may lurk. In doing this, we can make America a model nation, a shining example for the world to follow, in the paths of great nations like Sweden or Holland.
I would like to announce the creation of a special security corps to aid in this task.
The only kind of person who would wish to destroy the progress we as a nation have made in these past few weeks could be called be called truly evil. I call upon the American people to make these small sacrifices to destroy this threat in our midst.
Thank you and good night.
“That had to be this single most vacuous thing I have ever heard.” Said Seth dismissively.
The next few weeks would become a trying if not confusing time for Seth. The following Wednesday, the photography studio was paid a visit by two agents the new Security Committee
“Look at her Seth.” Cole said dreamily. “They’re kind of intimidating actually, but she’s not backing down at all.”
Granted, Seth thought Dawson was an attractive woman, but he had a great deal of trouble seeing her as anything more than an authority figure.
“You, there, Seth Casey, right?” one of the black-clad figures called”
“Yes, I am.” Seth replied cheerfully
“Have you seen any strange or seditious activity lately?”
“No, not really.” Seth answered again, as though he was trying to antagonize him.
The guardsman shot Seth an annoyed glance, and left with his partner.
When the next Sunday when he went to church, he noticed the normally upbeat pastor Madison troubled by something.
“Are you alright pastor?” Seth asked gingerly
“I’m just fine, Seth” he lied. “The Department of Anti-Fascism wants to see me tomorrow. Nothing too concerned about I’m certain.” Interestingly enough, this would be the last time he spoke to the pastor.
Around the middle of February, Seth had begun to notice that there was something wrong. One morning, he went onto his usual news websites to find that nearly all of them were shut down, the stated reason being “seditious” or “hateful”.
“It’s almost as though Li is to cowardly too take any criticism!” Ivy Franklin told Seth. “Most of what he’s claiming as ‘hateful’, doesn’t’t even come close to actual hatred. And I know would know that when I hear it.”
Middle age had in no way fatigued Ivy Franklin, known to have more energy than most women half her age; her bright red hair was perhaps an indication of this vitality.
“I know! It seems like I have those CS agents at my door every other day!” Seth complained rather uncharacteristically “What do they want from me anyway?!”
“I think we’ll see that soon enough, I hope I’m wrong however.” Eric Franklin responded.
Laid-back, dark-haired Eric was quite a contrast from his energetic wife Ivy; in fact, many were surprised to learn the two were spouses.
“What do you mean by that?” asked Seth
“You’ll see if it happens.” Eric replied darkly
Upon arriving at work the next Monday, as opposed to undisturbed as usual, he found the studio boarded up and his employer arguing with a few CS agents.
“And just what is your justification is for closing my business?”
An irritated Dawson inquired.
The guard sifted through his clipboard. “Ms. Abby Dawson, correct. Your place of business has been shut down due to your ties with neo-fascist individuals. Whether you can be prosecuted for this is currently under investigation.”
“Can I at least get the possessions I left here?” a noticeably angry Ms. Dawson asked.
“No, you cannot, unless you want to make obstruction of justice one of the charges against you.”
Dawson looked angry enough to attack the man, so apparently she took that as her cue to get into her car and leave.
Seeking new employment, Seth began to half-heartedly sift through a newspaper, evidenced by the fact that he knocked Dr. Flynn and the box he was carrying over.
“Oh, sorry about that doctor.” Apologized Seth as he replaced the box’s content “I’m just looking for a… You moving, doctor?”
Flynn gave a quick, nervous glance around. “Yes I am.” He whispered “And I would advise you to do the same.”
“Why is that?” questioned Seth
“Because you associate with me. I would advise that you do the same. Eric and Ivy Franklin and many others have compiled a report of… unflattering facts about Mathir and Tabitha Li. And I, being a scholar of religions provided them with a good deal of information.”
Seth was slightly puzzled by this. Li just struck him as a typical politician, as opposed to one physically dangerous to his opponents.
“Why would this endanger you or your family?” wondered Seth
“Figure it out, Seth.” Huffed the doctor “ Your employer’s studio recently shut down for “subversive activities” and “fascistic” connections? And Abby Dawson was a prominent critic of the Li family before the elections. Look, my children are grown, my wife and I are leaving for Calgary tonight. There are only eight copies of the report in existence; I want you to have this one. Read it. Memorize it. And destroy it when you’re finished with it”
“Er… thanks. Do you need any help with these boxes?”
“Just take the report and go home Seth. Who knows, maybe you could come visit sometime.”
Preparim Prifti had a stride about his step most of the day.
Years of bribing, blackmailing, and kissing up to party leaders had finally paid off, his reward: a comfortable government job. His beady, black eyes glowing with pride, though it was unusual that Mat Li would call him to his office.
“You called me, Mr. President?” Prifti asked with a self-satisfied grin.
“Yes I did, Mr. Prifti.”Li confirmed. “There are dangerous forces at work against us.
Everything we have accomplished, they wish to destroy. Therefore, I wish to offer you something offer you a promotion in our security force, Standard Leader. You are now in command of training the CS ‘summer camps‘. Any questions.”
“Not at all, sir! By the way our enemies… How would you like them dealt with?”
“However you see fit.” Li answered malevolently “Go on! Leave! Our enemies would exterminate all of us.”
“Yes sir!”
“Why on earth did you choose a moron like him as one of your commanders?” Tabitha asked.
Her husband chuckled “For that very reason, my dear. Preparim Prifti is a parasite with delusions of grandeur and power, therefore, give him these things and he will be easy to motivate.”
“You really have learned well about controlling stupid people.”
“I know, I know. No need to remind me.”
“And speaking of parasites…”
“Yes. This is how I had envisioned America. I just wish to discuss the deals you made…” Congratulated Slansky “After all, we are only half-way through…
“You see, the thing about that is, Mr. Slansky” the Leader began “While we are grateful for all your help…”
“We feel that you have outlived your usefulness.”
Li gave a slight grin as he watched the conversation. He knew that Slansky would not be a problem any longer. His scheming was interrupted by the sounds of gunshots and the sight of Slansky’s corpse.
Mathir was had always been alarmed by his wife’s proficiency with 6P9 pistol, the even more discomforting to him was that the gun never left her side.
“Dead weight.” His wife muttered, putting away the revolver.
For some reason, Seth just could not shake the feeling of being watched.
Perhaps it was the arrogant attitude of Mathir Li’s most steadfast supporters, or the reports of posters and murals throughout the nation celebrating his “revolutionary” accomplishments.
“What are they commemorating?! It’s only been four of the worst years we’ve ever had! ” complained Cole to an apathetic Seth, who was still sifting through the want ads.
“Let’s go down this street.” Seth requested
“Why?! This is leads to one of the worst neighborhoods in the city.”
“I’m sick of looking at Li’s face, alright.”
The dilapidated nature of the area did not alarm Seth, so much as the youths in the SC uniforms that were tailing them.
“Well, what do you to think you’re doing here? Your kind isn’t really welcome around here.” The oldest (no more than sixteen) asked
“None of your damn business.” Cole snapped
“You should know better than to screw with me.” Their leader threatened, his cohorts glaring malevolently “Things are different now. People like you are being watched, and if you put a toe out of line, you can forget about living outside a cell. Have a nice day…”
“Don’t antagonize him, it’s not worth the trouble.” Warned Seth
“Who do those punks think they are!?” Cole whispered angrily “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t’t have told him to screw off!”
“They were wearing the SC uniform.” Seth answered “And you can stop whispering, we’re long gone.”
“Sorry, about that earlier. I just can’t stand people like him.”
“Is what he said true? That we can just be put away for no real reason.”
“Damned if I know, but something is clear. Something is seriously wrong in this country.”
With those words, Seth’s thoughts turned to the report his friends had complied about the Li family. The report that he had for weeks neglected to read.
“I have to go do something.”
“What!?” Cole called back
“I’ll tell you when I’m finished.”
II
“Yes this is good, isn’t it?” Mr. Li asked his wife “Honestly, how stupid is the average American not to see this coming? Not to question my vision for their futures, for the world’s future!”
“You are quite right. I never for a second that they would just hand you over the keys to the most powerful office in the world, with (almost) no coercion! For God’s sake, the depth of the average voter’s thought was “He seems nice, let’s give him a try.” Pathetic, yet so very useful.”
“Mr. President, a man calling himself Sayyid al Seif bin Ahmed claims to have an appointment with you.” The intern on the intercom informed.
“Fine, send him in.,” replied an irritated Li
“You see Tabitha my dear,” continued Li “The average American doesn’t’t give a damn about their rights, so long as they have a decent standard of living and mindless drivel to keep their tiny little brains occupied. This assumption is foolproof, because the sheep love me!
If I told half of them to get on boxcars bound for work camps, they would believe I’m doing it for “our own good”! The last polls show that 43% of Americans are worried about “fascists” in their midst! As if any of these morons ever even studied what the word means!
I told them time and time again what my vision was for them, but they never listened.
I will remind you once again my darling, everything must be different.”
“May I enter?” croaked an elderly voice
“Good manners never stopped you from sticking your nose where it doesn’t’t belong, bin Ahmed.” An aggravated Li answered
Elderly, (apparently) frail, and limping, the Grand Mufti of Saudi Arabia, Sayyid al Seif bin Ahmed nonetheless radiated a disturbing vitality.
“I would advise you treat me with respect, boy. I would be justified in killing you right here in this office of yours. I can only imagine how humiliating that would be.”
“I know you’re not just here to antagonize me.” The leader said angrily.
“Not at all. I am just here to remind you whom you owe your status to. Whose associates was it that financed many of your early campaigns? Who was it that funneled hundreds of millions into you and your political allies' races? Who was it that bought shares in media corporations in your country, influencing policy so that they would demonize the opposing party constantly and members of your own party who got out of line? Who was it that-“
“WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT ALREADY!” roared Li
“It’s not what I want; it’s what I’m willing to give you. A disturbing percentage of your fellow citizens treat you as a god, correct? What would you say if I could have not millions of Americans worship you, but billions the world over?”
“I would be willing to give my right arm if you could deliver on that promise.”
“Excellent!” said the mufti descending into the chair “I only ask for a few favors in return.”
“Such as?” The leader wondered
“I have watched your security forces train, they are quite competent. Firstly, I request you send a few of your officers to train and arm the aspiring mujahadeen in the slums of Europe.
Secondly, import more believers into your country and pressure the European powers to do the same.”
“Anything else?”
“As a matter of fact yes. Strive for closer relations with dar al-Islam, while adopting a far harsher policy towards the Zionist entity. With that, I take my leave of you”
Tabitha Li waited until she was sure the elderly man was out of earshot.
“I never liked or trusted that man. I still don’t.”
“How dangerous can that old buzzard really be, Tabitha? After all, he doesn’t’t have millions who would fight and die for him; He doesn’t’t hold the power of life and death in his hands does he?”
Alan Lucas was feeling unusually energetic this day. In his twenty-five years teaching, he had never had a class as dedicated as this. Perhaps it was possible to get twelve and thirteen-year olds to listen? Nothing could damage his good spirits right now, not even the melted snow his socks had absorbed. Still he had to wonder why Fitzgerald had called this assembly.
The blonde girl turned to face him.
“Mr. Lucas, what did the principal want?” she asked
“I’m not exactly sure, Amy.”
The raucous youth turned dead silent as the sight of a fat, balding man ascending the auditorium stage and reaching the podium. He then glanced at his watch and cleared his throat.
“Children, faculty, I take time out of your day, to inform you all, that despite what you may have heard from your friends, families, or parents., We have nothing to fear from the fascists, as long as we stay vigilant. I ask you, if you see or hear anything suspicious or subversive, to tell someone you trust like-“
The stout principal was interrupted by the sound of gunfire and his own sudden death.
Around nine masked men emerged from behind the stage. Two proceeded to barricade the auditorium exits, four others began to patrol the aisles, and the final two remained on stage.
“Hands on your head!” their (apparent) leader shouted, then discharging several rounds from his assault rifle to quell the chaos. “Shut up! Try to escape and we kill you all!”
“What do you think you’re doing!” Lucas yelled “Who are you!?”
Their leader leered around the crowd.
“Your parents let that… thing into the White House, and we’re not going to stand for it!
That mongrel Li will destroy this nation, so we will destroy him, and anyone who supports him! And don’t even think about leaving.”
The young crowd sat rapt with a mixture of fear and loathing.
Unsure what to do, should they try to flee, losing many of the students?
Or wait for help to come?
“Come here, you stupid whore!” one of the guards spat at the one of the teachers.
She complied, and was promptly executed on the stage for her trouble. The leader of the thugs quelled the screams with another burst from his weapon.
“Mr. Lucas, what do we do!?” Amy whispered
“I don’t know.” He whispered back, “Maybe we should just-“
“STEVEN, NO!” a girl shrieked
A tall, wiry boy had leapt onto one of the guards necks, apparently attempting to strangle him. The man threw his young assailant to the ground and opened fire.
“That could be the rest of you!” the leader roared “Now, all the sub-humans and mongrels on the stage!”
Seth jerked himself awake once again. Those around him had remarked that he seemed to be in worse spirits than usual. Maybe it was the fact that he always seemed very tired, or the fact that he hadn’t been able to find a job for the past several weeks. Nonetheless, dozing off in someone else’s house was quite unlike him.
Ashley Franklin was slightly small for her age, (shorter than Seth by about a foot) but what made her stand out was the flaming red hair she shared with her mother.
“I still don’t see why Mom and Eric won’t let me stay home by myself. I mean, I’m almost fourteen. Seth, you agree with me right?”
“I know it probably doesn’t’t make sense to you now.” Seth answered tiredly, “But your mom’s just looking out for you. After all, her work as become kind of dangerous lately.”
If there were people more harassed by the Security Committee then Seth, they were Ivy and Eric Franklin.
The federal agents, for the time being had simply been content to stalk him around town and tamper with his mail. But they had apparently taking a liking to following their children, making strange phone calls at odd hours, and sometimes issuing veiled threats.
In spite of all this, they had still managed to keep him informed of the events in the world.
In light of these developments, they had decided to relocate, explaining the very empty house.
“Hey Jake, do you need any help with these suitcases.”
“No, I don’t.” he said coldly
Jacob Franklin was slightly taller than his sister, but his dark hair and with a perpetual scowl left him devoid of the warmth in his sibling’s face.
“You don’t need to be here Seth; we can take care of ourselves.”
“Listen.” Said Seth firmly “Your mom and step dad told me to look after you.
If the SC breaks down the door, kills you, and rapes your sister, than that’s my business.”
Jacob gave a sarcastic sort of chuckle
“I bet Eric would like that. He’d have mom all to himself then.”
“Maybe if you weren’t such a little-“
Seth was interrupted by the door creaking open.
“Do you want a lift home, Seth?” Mrs. Franklin asked, sweeping the snow from her hair.
“It is pretty cold out.”
“No thanks,” said Seth “I need the exercise”
“If you say so.” Eric interjected “We’ll contact you once we get to our destination.”
“Where are you going anyway?”
“I tell you when we get there.”
Seth said goodbye to the Franklins and set off for home. Granted, there were just some parts of Chicago that one does not enter alone at night, (or at all) but it was early February and still pretty cold, so Seth felt his chances of getting into trouble were pretty slim.
During his walk, he noticed a poster at least twenty feet high of Mathir Li gazing pompously at the street below.
“How creepy is that?” thought Seth as he entered his apartment.
Sitting down on his bed, Seth looked over the report. It was at least fifteen pages long.
He began to review the document.
“Mathir and Tabitha Li, the past, present, and vision for the future” the introduction page read
III
“Prifti, you’re sure we can make this look right?” a nervous voice asked
Prepraim Prifti gave a mirthless chuckle.
“How many times do I have to tell you Agent? Appearance of legitimacy means very little. At least not any more.”
Charles Sherman’s eyes too large for his head and short stature gave him a perpetually paranoid look.
“But Sir, won’t the public get sort of suspicious if we implement these measures?”
“You know, Sherman.” Prifti said, tapping something on his belt “I get the feeling that you aren’t’t completely committed. You know how lucky you are that I’m not Costa. If I was, you would most likely be dead right now.”
“Were you gents wondering about me?”
A strangely feminine voice asked
With an appearance to match his voice, Ariel Costa was rather short and thin.
His long black hair and matching eyelashes further accentuated this.
“Agent Costa, what brings you here?” said Prifti shortly.
“Oh nothing” replied Costa in his nasty sing-song voice “Just the fact that my underlings found out something that Mr. Li would be very pleased to find out about.”
“What is it already?”
“Just a report containing some very unflattering information about the President and his wife. Potentially damning information to the both of them in the possession of one Seth Casey.”
Prifti found himself half wishing that his handgun would “accidentally” discharge with the barrel at his superior.
“But what do we get out of this?”
Costa let out a shrill laugh.
“Who said WE were getting anything out of it” he said while dialing a number on his cellular phone.
Mathir Li gingerly set the phone down on the receiver, looking pale.
“Tabitha, does the name Seth Casey hold any meaning for you.
Mrs. Li screwed her face into a look of pure loathing.
“Yes…it…does....”
“Apparently he is in possession of a report that could prove damaging to us.” The leader replied, face still pale and fearful
For a second, Tabitha Li shared the same pallid, nervous expression with her husband, before regaining her color and wearing a resolute look.
“Well, after tonight, he and many others like him will no longer be a problem. Your predecessors weren’t’t completely useless after all.”
Mr. Li’s face broke into a twisted smile at these words.
Seth finally laid the report down. His eyes, bloodshot and heavy, but his mind much more knowledgeable. Some things in the report did not surprise him at all, (his being an excellent politician or his associations with many questionable figures) others downright shocking. (Records from around twenty-five years of Li’s life being either unavailable or destroyed)
The moment Seth set his head on the pillow; rapid tapping on the door interrupted his attempted sleep.
Who was so desperate to see to see him at 10:28 at night, anyway?
“What do you want-“
Fearful looking Cole, clutching what appeared to be a computer bag, met Seth.
“Your apartment seems smaller. What’s wrong with it?” he asked quickly.
“I sold off most of the furniture and electronics,”
Seth said “In case you hadn’t noticed, I haven’t had a job in about two months.”
“That’s not important right now. I need to use your computer.”
“Why not tomorrow?”
“Because this can’t wait!” Cole snapped, placing a Ruger SR9 on the desk.
Seth looked over the handgun:
“How did you get this, now?”
“That’s not important,” said Cole in the same irritable tone “After that run-in with those SC punks a couple of weeks ago, I’m not taking any chances.”
Cole’s internet navigation quickly bought up a live feed from Mathir Li’s current speech:
Citizens of America, three days ago, the unthinkable happened. The fascists held students hostage for twenty-four hours, immediately executing the minority students, and then opening fire on the local, state, and federal law enforcement once they arrived on the scene.
By the time our brave men and women in uniform eliminated the threat, half of the school’s three-hundred and twenty five occupants were killed, many more gravely injured.
Our problem with the fascists is even more severe than I, or any other of my advisers had predicted. So it is with a heavy heart that I introduce the following methods to crush the fascists once and for all:
The following agencies will now disbanded and their duties incorporated into the Security Committee:
The Federal Bureau of Investigation, The Department of Homeland security, the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms, the Secret Service and the Internal Revenue Service.
Finally, I have given the Security Committee the authority to dispose of any fascists they may encounter by any method they deem necessary.
“So what?” said Seth “This just sounds like more political posturing to me. Li can talk all he wants, but nothing will get done.”
“I’m getting to that,” Cole said, inserting a flash drive into the computer.
“I managed to get my hands on the security footage from the ‘fascist’ attack.”
Cole paused the video, and isolated their weapons.”
“What do these weapons all have in common?”
Seth shrugged.
“They’re all using Fabrique Nationale weapons. Now, one can modify semi-automatic replica of assault rifles to serve the same purpose.
The full-auto versions aren’t’t available for the public to purchase.”
He turned the focus to the leader’s weapon.”
“Their leader’s using a SCAR Mark 17 Light, not cheap at all.”
Cole shifted the focus to his bodyguards’ rifles:
“F2000’s, not cheap either. This means someone very wealthy paid for these weapons.”
Seth took a moment to process all this.
He was never one for conspiracy theories, but the idea that a ragtag group could afford brand new weapons and be this wasteful with their ammunition seemed less likely by the second.
“Seth,” Cole continued “did you notice that almost all of Li’s critics in the government have ended up having strange, fatal accidents, becoming seriously ill, or injured, or just resigned or gone missing? “
“But what do the Executive Orders have to do with anything?” said Seth in an irritated tone
Cole chuckled darkly:
“Seth, they have to do with everything.
Think about it, in over the past couple of days, you’ve seen the SC agents on street corners carrying weapons, right?
The ‘fascists’ were carrying them in the exact same manner and using the same crowd control tactics!
“Is it at all possible that this attack was staged by the SC?” Cole continued, ignoring the increasingly anxious expression on Seth’s face
“Why in God’s name would he stage something that horrible?” said Seth
“To justify giving himself dictatorial powers! Why else?
The Executive Orders Li signed give him the authority to take over transportation power, communications, health and education, and control over most of the economy. Essentially, this allows him to rule as a dictator, putting us in a permanent state of martial law.
You and I both know that there’s no such thing as a ‘fascist’ movement in America.
The ‘fascists’ are just a phantom internal enemy. In fact, I wouldn’t’t be surprised if Li was collaborating with our actual enemies.”
Seth felt his insides freeze at his realization. He trusted his friend not to joke or lie about something this potentially serious. Only two types of people would willingly take on dictatorial power: The very greedy and the very arrogant, if the report was to be believed, (which he did) Mathir Li was both of these things. If Li were to rule as a despot, he would send the SC after any who publicly opposed him.
If that were so, millions were in grave danger. That meant his friends, his remaining family, and most of all him.
Seth suddenly found himself regretting the fact that he had misplaced his father’s revolver.
“So, what is he going to do with us?”
“What do you think, Seth. What do you think?”
Seth glanced at the handgun Cole was placing in his bag with his belongings.
“Where did you get that?” he asked
“I bought it off some guy.” His friend replied. “By the way, didn’t’t you have one of your dad’s old guns?”
“Yeah, what of it.”
“Keep it on you, I mean all the time.
My fellow criminal.”
Cole departed the apartment, his words slightly unnerving Seth.
Laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, Seth began to review the information. Did Mathir Li really seem like the kind of person to eliminate his political adversaries? Who would go along with the purges? Seth knew the answer to both of these questions.
Li was exactly that kind of person and the SC were loyal exclusively to him.
Could this just be baseless speculation and conspiracy mongering? This possibility calmed him down a great deal.
“But what if Cole was right?” Seth thought. He couldn’t’t spend the rest of his life running from the government, if they wanted to get him badly enough, they would. Without bothering to undress or even turn the lights out, Seth slowly drifted into an uneasy sleep
A sudden vomiting sensation abruptly woke Seth. He felt as though his skin would burn from his body.
He attempted to escape the bedroom, the power outage hindering his movement.
As he stumbled to the ground, Seth noticed a low-lying mist. The fact that fog did not form indoors without the aid of a machine bought him to a realization.
“This is gas,” thought Seth.
His friend’s prediction fresh in his mind, Seth instinctively picked up his jacket and wallet and bolted for the door, bumping into it before exiting the apartment.
He continued his flight down the hallway to the stairs, when voice shouting orders started coming into focus. Closer and closer they came, Seth in their peripheral vision.
Struggling with the lock for a moment, Seth darted down the alleyway, knocking down anything that might impede his pursuers.
Over the piercing winter air, Seth heard a voice magnified to ten times its regular volume:
“Seth Casey,” called the voice “You are under arrest! Surrender peacefully and no harm will come to you.”
While working on the lock, he had caught a glimpse of their uniforms.
The black uniform identified them as SC agents, and he knew that his compliance would eventually result in his own death.
After frantically navigating several more alleys and back streets, taking extreme care not to be seen, Seth finally stopped for a rest and to consider his options.
Option one was he could turning himself in and telling them what they want.
Option two was to was suicide
Option three was to change his identity and keep his nose clean.
Option four was escape to a nation that had neither an extradition treaty with the United States or one unwilling to deport him.
Options two and three were out, as Seth had grown rather fond of his life and living in general. Option one was a definite no, as he knew full well that his own and his friends’ deaths were pretty much certain once the CS acquired
the information they were after.
The only option the posed no moral or practical dilemma for him was four.
But where would he go?
He had almost no family inside the country, never mind abroad.
What work would be available to a man who only had an expired passport?
He only had about three hundred dollars in his wallet and he couldn’t’t risk showing his face in a bank (or anywhere with even light security)
And this was assuming that he even escaped the SC at all.
Even the weather seemed to be against him, as rumblings of thunder were approaching him. Despite the coming storm, Seth continued on his trek to an unknown destination.
“Well Madame Leader, tonight’s raid bought good news and bad,” Informed the aide.
“The good news?” said Tabitha Li sleepily.
“We have located the suspect and blocked off the city of residence.
“And the bad?...”
“Well… The suspect has escaped, but we do have a rough idea of where he is!”
The Leader’s wife dropped the coffee mug she was holding.
“What…do…you…mean?” she growled
“Well um… Like I said madam, we have a rough idea of where he is, he must have fled the apartment! We’ll have him by the week’s end, we’re sure of it,” said the messenger fearfully.
“The week’s end is not good enough,” Mrs. Li said, her voice in a low, dangerous tone. “Do you have any idea how much damage this man can do just with his voice?”
“Yes ma’am! Of course! But he’s just one man. A real weirdo by all accounts. Who in their right mind would believe him?”
“Enough. But let me make this clear, you had better hope that someone else gets assigned to your position by the next report, otherwise I will personally see you-“
“Mommy, I had a dream where this man was after me,” A girl’s voice wept “It was so scary!”
Many commented about the remarkable resemblance Svetlana Li she bore to her mother, Tabitha. The one thing that distinguished the seven-year old was the kindness in her eyes.
“It’s alright, sweetie,” Li said soothingly
“Hey, I bet that man’s gone now, I’ll go with you and check for him.”
“O..Okay” her daughter said, face beaming in admiration.
The disgruntled Mrs. Li returned some twenty minutes later to the still very on edge messenger.
“Tell me more about the suspect,” she said
“Well, the description we put out lists him at about twenty-six years old, five feet- ten inches, short brown hair, and green eyes.” answered the messenger.
Tabitha Li’s face twisted with revulsion, as though a grotesque memory had just come back to her in vivid detail.
“What is his name?”
“Seth Casey, ma’am.”
“Why on earth does the last name Casey sound this familiar?” She thought
Continuing his clandestine journey around the city, soaking clothes and all. Seth began to consider how he would spend the night without being detected.
Staying in any place open to the public was certainly not a wise option, as someone would surely recognize the warnings for him that were out for him.
He could stay with one of his friends, although he felt a twinge of guilt at the fact that his few friends in the country had probably been marked for the same fate as him by the SC.
Leaning on a door to think, he found himself on the floor of a deserted warehouse.
It was dark and drafty, but also inconspicuous and likely not to collapse on him. As far as Seth knew, the SC didn’t’t put searching abandoned warehouses for “fascists” that high among their priorities.
Leaning on a box, Seth fell quickly off to sleep.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE!”
Seth was awakened by woman’s (presumably the owner’s) voice. Due to being blonde and about six inches shorter than Abby Dawson, (his former employer) he assumed them sisters for a second. She even shared Dawson’s thin nose.
“Look, I’m really sorry about this ma’am,” Seth answered quickly “but I-”
Seth suddenly remembered why he was sleeping in a warehouse at three in the morning as opposed to his own bed
“You- I can’t stay here!” said Seth quickly, “I’m putting you in danger!”
“Wait, what are you talking about?” She looked over Seth’s ragged appearance “What have you been doing, you look horrible.” Seth noticed her voice had become considerably kinder.
The woman led Seth into an office-like room and urged Seth on a couch; he complied while she took her seat.
“Ella Hochberg,” the woman introduced herself “And you?”
“Seth Casey” he answered
“So Seth, why brings you to this warehouse?”
Seth relayed the tale of the possession of the report about the Li’s, Cole’s analysis, and his flight from the SC.
Hochberg glanced concernedly around the room.
“I see, so Ivy and Eric did play a role in this.,” she muttered.
“Wait, are familiar with a Franklin family in this area?” Seth asked
“Yes, they are good friends of mine. Interestingly, they sometimes made passing mention of a report… Seth, do you have a copy of it?”
Seth reached into his jacket pocket and handed over the crumpled papers.
“The pages are damaged, but it’s still readable.”
Hochberg scanned the report, spending no more than a minute on each page.
“Wow, I knew Mathir Li was a scumbag, but… Wow…”
“Thanks, but I really can’t stay here any-”
Seth was interrupted by the sound of shattering glass, along with the pattering of hurried boots.
“I have to get out of here, if I stay here, they’ll probably kill you too!” warned Seth, stuffing the report back into his jacket.
“The emergency exit’s in the next room over.” said Hochberg quickly “Take this too” she added, throwing a cigarette lighter to Seth.
Careful to make as little noise as possible while not taking too much time, Seth slipped through the fire escape and dashed down another alleyway.
It was an interesting feeling to have narrowly avoided law enforcement twice in one night; the rush was slightly dulled by guilt however. Seth knew that Ella Hochberg would suffer the same fate as him (or worse) if the SC figured out she had even seen him.
Several alleyways and backstreets later, where the sounds of various automobiles were faint, Seth dropped the report into a trashcan and set fire to it. Even if they were coming for him, no one else was going to suffer the same fate. After all, he had memorized the important parts of it.
Many more blocks and around half an hour later, Seth found the entrance to Cole’s apartment building. Making sure the only noise was light pattering of his shoes, Seth began to quickly push ring the bell.
“Come on, come on, come on! Where the hell are you?!” Seth whispered angrily into the intercom. He suddenly came to a realization. Of course, Cole was not going to answer,
If the SC were this frantic in their search for him, they surely would put just as much priority on finding his friend who had recovered and analyzed the recording of a “fascist” attack.
Attempting banish these thoughts from his mind, Seth continued to walk quickly and carefully, sticking to the shadows whenever possible.
“Why couldn’t’t I just have gotten rid of that report when I had the chance?” he thought
Hearing the fait wail of a siren, Seth slipped into an (at first glance) almost invisible door.
The interior was dank, poorly lit, and smelled strongly of liquor, vomit, and occasionally blood. Possibly due to fatigue, he had to take a second glance to tell that this was a (rather badly maintained) bar.
“Hey buddy, closing time’s in ten minutes.” called a voice impatiently
Upon closer inspection, Seth realized that the voice belonged to a short, balding man with a prominent mustache, presumably the owner.
“Sorry, didn’t’t notice.” said Seth
“Nah, its fine,” the bartender replied “By the way, what’s a kid like you doing out here at two in the morning?”
“I’m not a kid, and my name’s Set- err… Jack.”
“Well, Jack, What’s on your mind?”
Seth thought about how he could answer this question without sounding overly defensive or giving away his actual identity.
“I’m just wondering, hypothetically of course,” lied Seth “What advice would you give to someone who didn’t‘t actually do anything, but had to go on the run from the law?”
The bartender scratched his chin.
“Why do you ask?”
“For a novel I’m writing,” he lied again “And let’s assume getting a lawyer and a trial aren’t’t options.”
“Well…” said the bartender absentmindedly scrubbing a glass “I would recommend he get a fake id and skip the country. If he really didn’t’t do anything wrong, it should blow over once they get the real crook.”
“Right, thanks.” Seth said before heading to the door
“Stay safe, Jack.”
Making sure the sounds of vehicles were very faint, Seth resumed walking to his nonexistent destination. Getting fake identification and leaving the country really was not an option for him right now, as going to the airport, even at three in the morning, at least a hundred people would see him, even if he kept a low profile. Probably just as many security cameras would pick him up too.
Noise it would create be damned, he began to kick a trashcan out of frustration.
After the third kick, the (few) lights in the alley suddenly went out.
The almost unnatural darkness for a second convinced him that he had gone blind; this idea was shot down due to the fact that blind cannot see outlines of various objects.
The blackness possessed a sort of odd hold on Seth. His heart was racing, telling him to run as fast as humanly possible, while his mind was telling him to stay and investigate.
Suddenly, the horrible nausea returned to him, along with the horrible skin burning sensation. His body felt unusually heavy and sluggish. He attempted to stagger to the other side of the alley. The unnatural fatigue compelled him to lean against the alley wall, just to catch his breath.
“Here he is!” cried a voice whose owner tackled Seth to the ground, rose and began to kick him in the ribs repeatedly.
The lights had returned and the mist was gone, only to be replaced with four CS agents kicking him in the chest, stomach, and ribs.
“How do you like this, scum!” the first one yelled at him while kneeing him in the chest.
“People like you need to learn their place!” the second agent spat at him before repeatedly smacking Seth’s legs with the butt of his rifle.
“Okay, that’s enough,” called an older voice, presumably belonging to their commander.
“You remember our orders to beat this guy up too badly.”
His subordinates complied and dragged the half-conscious Seth several yards before placing him (rather roughly) into what was apparently a seven by three foot crate.
“Why did I waste so much time listening to that damn bartender?” thought Seth before
losing consciousness.
IV
One mid-February morning at breakfast, Tabitha Li’s family couldn’t’ help noticing the normally subdued woman was rather cheerful.
“Mom, I’ve never seen you smile before. It’s nice.” Svetlana said
“Why thank you dear.” Mrs. Li replied
“What’s daddy doing?”
“Daddy’s working right now Svetlana. Maybe you can ask him later.”
On the other side of the kitchen, Mathir Li was having a hurried phone conversation.
“The old buzzard told me to contact you. Of course, I can reward you for your efforts“
Li‘s tone was becoming impatient.
“Yes, I’m well aware of the complexities of bureaucratic red tape, Watanabe.
Fine, bye.”
Sergeant Major Brian Kemp’s day had been among his worst.
The United States Army officers he had spoken with were anticipating massive layoffs of personnel due to the anticipated policies of Mathir Li.
This pessimism combined with the fact that he had been out of bed since four in the morning contributed to the abysmal quality of the day.
Although walking to his car under a sky that foretold rain didn’t’t help his mood either.
“Sorry about that,” he said after bumping into someone.
“Don’t worry about it, Kemp,” answered the man.
“Reeve, do I sound like I’m in the mood for your crap?”
His Marine Corps counterpart Floyd Reeve, with his leather jacket and graying slicked hair, he gave off the he gave off the air of a man attempting to relive his youth.
“Look, Kemp. I’m not here to give you a hard time.
You and I aren’t the same men we were thirty years ago.”
“Oh, all right,” said Kemp “Old habits, die hard, and all that.”
“Yeah, I was a real arrogant SOB back in those days,” Reeve said fondly “Anyway, what’s got you so down?”
Kemp removed the report from his briefcase, adjusted his glasses, flipped to the tenth page and began to recite from it:
In order to more effectively deal with the threats we face as a nation, the following military installations are to be vacated of all personnel no later than September thirtieth of this year and turned over to the Security Committee:
Elmendorf Air Force Base, Alaska
Eielson Air Force Base, Alaska
Fort Wainwright, Alaska
Fort Chaffee, Arkansas
Pine Bluff Arsenal, Arkansas
Scott Air Force Base, Illinois
Camp Atterbury, Indiana
McConnell Air Force Base, Kansas
Fort Polk, Louisiana
Fort Detrick, Maryland
Otis Air National Guard Base, Massachusetts
Camp Grayling, Michigan
Fort Leonard Wood, Missouri
Malmstrom Air Force Base, Montana
Nellis Air Force Base, Nevada
Joint Base McGuire-Dix-Lakehurst
Holloman Air Force Base, New Mexico
White Sands Missile Range, New Mexico
Fort Drum, New York
Minot Air Force Base, North Dakota
Tinker Air Force Base, Oklahoma
Charleston Air Force Base, South Carolina
Fort Bliss, Texas
Fort Hood, Texas
Sheppard Air Force Base, Texas
Fort A.P. Hill, Virginia
Reeve’s mouth dropped upon the recitation.
“What in God’s name?!” he said indignantly “Elmendorf, Pine Bluff, McConnell, Fort Polk, Detrick, Malmstrom, Nellis, Dix, Holloman, White Sands. Are the out of their freaking minds!”
“I don’t think its insanity,” Kemp said darkly “Think about it. Many of these installations are key to the nation’s defense. Why would Congress and the White House demand them be closed and turned over to the SC?”
“You know, I was never one for these conspiracy theories, but I think you have a point there Kemp. Speaking of CS, I met one of their commanders a couple of weeks ago.
Costa or something. A real bastard if I remember correctly, wouldn’t’ trust him-”
“The point is,” interrupted Kemp “These bases all have something in common.
We both have contacts at several bases, use these contacts to ask about these bases, visit them if you can”
Kemp took the clapping of thunder as his cue to get into his car.
“And Reeve, the key word here ‘discretion’. Don’t tell anyone. I mean anyone.”
Reeve gave an affronted look.
“What? You think caution would be a problem with me?”
Kemp responded with a you-should-know-already look before starting his car.
Jenifer Cropper absentmindedly flipped through a book she had consciously been putting off reading. It had been an interesting previous several years for Mrs. Cropper:
After her husband Elliot’s term in the White House, she became a successful politician in her own right. And as of now, a scandal-plagued Congresswoman involved in a shady land deal in Oregon.
Cropper looked pensively into the mirror on the wall to her left.
Her reflection showed an older woman who was quite a beauty back in her youth.
The graying flecks in her hair and wrinkles made her appear fifteen years above her actual age.
“I thought I requested a ‘Please knock’ sign,” she snapped at the courier, a boy of around fourteen.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” said the young man “But Costa requested this be bought to you. A ‘peace offering’ as he put it.”
Cropper eyed the youth and his delivery with cautiously. The mere mention of the surname “Costa” made her attempt to crush whatever she was holding.
“Oh, fine.” she said, placing the box on the left side of her desk as the young man casually strode out of the office.
Outside the building, the courier stared intently at his watch.
“It should be,” he thought “About now.”
As though the end of his thought was a particularly volatile trigger, a violent explosion erupted from one of the second floor windows.
The youth casually loitered about, waiting for the panicked hordes to come streaming out, with a self-satisfied grin on his face all the while.
Sifting through a stack of paperwork, Prifiti scarcely noticed his superior, Costa stride into the room.
“What do you want? Just make it quick and get out,” groaned Prifti.
“I don’t think you should be addressing your superiors in such a way,” said Costa, sounding even more arrogant and venomous than usual.
“Two of our dear leader’s most dangerous foes no longer a problem.
That wretched Casey man off in some godforsaken corner of the country, and that witch Cropper out of commission as well. Be careful, Preparim, if your youths don’t make progress soon, they just might see you as dead weight.”
Prifti stabbed several of the papers with his letter opener.
“What…do…you…want?” he said through gritted teeth.
“It’s simple. I just wanted to inform you that nothing can possibly stop us now.” Costa said, his singsong tone returning. “Of course you noticed our all of our actual opposition in the federal government has been either having strange ‘accidents’ and any halfhearted opposition has been bought or extorted into silence.”
“What ever happened to Coburn anyway?”
Prifti actually had to struggle to remember the name.
Edward Coburn was a normally verbose Senator who ran on the ticket with Li.
Strangely enough, since about the end of January, no one had heard a peep from him.
Costa let out one of his shrill, effeminate laughs.
“Why do you think that Coburn has been traveling so much?
He’s scheduled for a ’tragic accident’ soon.”
“Good riddance as far as I’m concerned. The odds are good that he would let some important detail slip out. Whether to due to carelessness or general stupidity, I’m not sure.”
“It matters not.”