I awaken to the sound of pouring rain coming in over the bay. It’s been two days since I spoke with Rod about coming down here. I’m starting to get worried. I’ve been thinking about trying to raise some of the others on the list that Scotty left, but I want to see how things pan out with Rod first. I’ve been worried about how well he’ll be able to move around considering his disability. Technology has come a long way, even in the years since we were employed by Uncle Sam. Now, however, Uncle Sam seems like that perverted uncle just waiting for your parents to leave so he can do unspeakable things to you.
I spent the last two days trying to formulate a plan on how and where we could strike the government bastards who have killed not just my family and friends, but the others across the country who tried to stop their insane power-grab. I’ve finished setting aside 6 sets of gear while waiting on Rod to get here. I have an idea of who will get which set of gear, provided everyone on the list is still alive.
Set 1:
- Ironskin armor
- plasma rifle
- 10,000 plasma rounds
- 2 ion grenades
- 6 fragmentation grenades
- 2 smoke grenades
- sniper scope
- personal COD (to be worn at all times)
- high-frequency comm set
- light-weight pack with frame
- thermal wet-suit w/rebreather
- carbon-fiber survival knife
Set 2:
- Ironskin armor
- plasma rifle
- 10,000 plasma rounds
- 2 ion grenades
- 6 fragmentation grenades
- 2 smoke grenades
- personal COD
- high-freq comm set
- light-weight pack w/frame
- thermal wet-suit w/rebreather
- underwater demo kit w/10 HE armor-piercing rounds
- carbon-fiber survival knife
Each of the remaining sets are almost identical with the exception of mine. My set also contains 1 antiquated laser, 1 .45 caliber antique pistol, and 200 hollow-point armor-piercing rounds. That pistol was a favorite of mine back when I was in the Techno Marines. My grandfather had passed it down to me as did his father before him. It had been meticulously maintained by him and still is, er was, by me. Scotty, Gage, and I used to target practice with it whenever we were on liberty. Gage’s family used to own quite a bit of land in Wisconsin, back when you were still allowed to own land. Since Scotty and I weren’t yet married at the time, we used to go there with Gage and get drunk and stupid and play with guns. I thought it was gone forever, but I found it yesterday while looking through the food and other supplies Scotty kept stocked down here. It appears that Scotty made some modifications to it as well. I wonder how well she still shoots?
* * *
I keep wondering when Rod us going to raise me. No sooner does the thought cross my mind than I hear the faint chirp of my comm set.
“Jake! Get your ass out here, man! And I mean NOW!” came the sound of Rod’s booming voice from the tiny speaker.
Jumping up out of my chair, I grab a fully-loaded plasma rifle and my mini-COD. I head out the door and into the sound of a fierce battle raging down the street. Peering through the raindrops, I see 12 goons and their leader have Rod pinned down behind a burned-out tracked vehicle. In previous encounters with these goons, I’ve found that if you take out their leader, you can pick the goons off one by one. The goons are great at following orders, but not too good at giving them. I try to circle around behind the goons so I can get a clear shot at their leader. Meanwhile, Rod is still returning fire picking off goons almost at will. The problem is that their firepower is superior to whatever Rod brought with him. The burned-out tank he’s hiding behind is slowly disintegrating under their awesome firepower. After taking a few pot shots at abandoned vehicles to turn the goons’ attention from Rod, I finally find the shot I want to make. A slow, steady squeeze of the trigger places a well-aimed plasma round into the forehead of the leader. His head is vaporized and his body slumps to the ground. Instantly the goons go into shutdown mode and Rod and I easily pick off the remaining eight. It’s amazing how quickly your military instincts come back to you. I slowly make my way over to Rod to see how he’s doing. After looking him over, I see that the Marines done good by him. Or at least what used to be the Veterans Administration. Rod is sporting a new set of legs courtesy of the same. Fortunately for him, he had his walking papers well before the operation that gave him back his mobility.
“Rod! What the hell happened?” I shout at him.
“They’ve been tracking me since Sacramento,” he replies. “Seems that they’ve been waiting for me to leave my cabin up there in the Oregon hills. Judging by the numbers they sent, I guess they thought I wasn’t important enough to warrant a whole platoon. But when they saw where I was headed, they pounced.”
I quickly grab a hold of Rod, bringing him in under my mini-Cover Of Darkness. Our only safe haven now, is back into Scotty’s hidden bunker.
* * *
Back inside and out of the rain, Rod sits down behind the old, dusty desk Scotty left down here. I break out a first-aid kit and start applying quick-heal packs to Rod’s assorted wounds. I can’t help but notice how good of shape he’s still in. Those goons out there managed to slice his shoulder up pretty good with their plasma rifles. Thankfully, even though they do a hell of a lot of damage, indirect hits seem to cauterize themselves fairly well. Focusing on his new titanium appendages, I ask him when he got them put in and how well they’re holding up.
“Not as good as I’d like them to, but better than the alternative I guess,†Rod replies. “They put them in about 2 years after the end of the war while I was still what they considered a ‘loyal soldier’.â€
“Well, they don’t look half-bad considering what a gimp you used to be!”
“I can move around now, Johannson! Wouldn’t be nothin’ to whup YOUR ass!”
Rod and I go on and on like this for a few more minutes before it’s time to get down to business.
* * *
I start to lay out what little bit of a plan I have formulated so far. While explaining to him who gets what set of equipment, I pour us each a drink of Scotty’s Moonshine. After the excitement of just a few hours ago, we need it. Since the government was basically hijacked by that band of corrupt thugs, everything that made this country great is damn near gone. You can’t even buy alcohol on the open market anymore. Open market my ass! Gone are damn near all of the vices that have kept me sane over the years. Cigarettes, cigars, beer, whiskey. All gone. Thank God Scotty got ahold of his great- great-grandfathers moonshine recipe. That recipe has (had) been in Scotty’s family since damn near the beginning of time.
Rod and I both wince a little as we quickly drain our glasses. The ’shine goes down hot, yet smooth. I can feel the burn in my belly already. Now that the firefight is over the alcohol is finally starting to calm our frazzled nerves. Adrenaline and alcohol tend to even each other out pretty well.
“So what do we do now?” Rod asks.
“Well, for starters we should get some shut-eye.”
“It’s not even dusk yet!”
“Rod, tomorrow is going to be a full day. You can count on that. Let’s just turn in for the night and get plenty of sleep. I have a feeling we may be on the move tomorrow.”
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