

American Exodus: Brimstone and Fire

By

Michael Andrews

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2010: Michael Andrews

Cover Design by Laura Shinn

This ebook is liscenced 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 ebook with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

American Exodus: Brimstone and Fire is a work of fiction. Although the places actually exist they are used in a fictitious manner for the purposes of this work. All characters in this work are fictional any names or characteristics to any person past, present, or future are purely coincidental.

Special thanks to all of those that helped me in the production of this novel, especially Mrs. Cassandra Milot and my wife Beth.

This book is dedicated to the men and women of the Armed Forces, United States Army, 10th Mountain Division. "Climb to Glory."

Prologue

"When history remembers us, how will they speak our names?"

~Unknown

"Rebellion to Tyrants is Obedience to God"

~ The Official Seal of Thomas Jefferson

A poet had once said, "Evil prevails when good men fail to act." Yes, he had to act. Without him all would be lost. He could see this now. His name would be remembered for all time. He was a man who stood against evil, a man who would do what was necessary when everyone else was too soft to act. His faith grew stronger.

"If God be with us, who could stand against us?" he murmured. The birth of a new dawn, bathed in light and righteousness and glory. A new dawn free of the void currently filled by darkness and heresy a birth of light and joy delivered by His holy prophet.

Much like birth though, there would be pain and there would be blood. Yes, he would lead his people into the Promised Land. He would be the divine deliverer who would coach the world through its labor pains, bringing the new age of light into being. There would be blood.

I

Fire licked the sky. Smoke and the screams of the wounded and dying filled the air...sweet music. He turned on the radio to listen to the first labor pains being announced as he watched the chaos before him.

"This just in," an announcer began, "an explosion has rocked the quiet town of Allison Park, Pennsylvania. The BP gas station was located at the intersection of Wildwood Road Extension and Route 8. Early reports say the explosion occurred sometime around the morning rush hour, but after school had commenced, otherwise things could have been much worse. The causes of the explosion and resulting fire are yet unknown, initial casualty estimates are six dead and many more wounded. We will keep you informed with the latest on KDKA news."

This gas station would be the first, but far from the last. His holy crusade had begun. Sodom and Gomorrah would soon have company. The three Hampton police cruisers arrived first. Flashing lights turned the smoking burning pit of fire into a morose strobe light disco accented by the rhythmic wailing of sirens. Several police officers constructed barriers at the intersection and the roads immediately in front of the scene. Two other policemen attempted to brave the flames to see if any of the motorists at the pumps had made it through the blast, but were soon turned back by the searing heat and noxious smoke. The Dark Angel, the Angel of Death, smiled from his car and lit a cigarette.

The ambulance and fire department arrived almost simultaneously and began the daunting work of extinguishing the inferno and caring for the damned souls who were unlucky enough to survive the initial explosion. Throngs of onlookers began to crowd the barriers, hungrily looking for a chance to gaze at the carnage. Traffic slowed to a virtual standstill, a logjam of suburbanites in their eco-conscious hybrids and not so eco-conscious SUVs clogged the roads. A smile touched the face of the Dark Angel, a savage grin that only one who truly enjoyed his work could have at his thoughts.

He pulled out his cell phone with the grandeur and circumstance fitting the day. He extinguished his cigarette and put the butt in the pocket of his cargo pants, no reason to leave any extra evidence behind after all. He dialed a number on the phone and then looked up through his windshield, so many people...so many dirty, lecherous, depraved people. He pushed the send button on the phone and the mass text message went out. A chain of explosions sent dirt, smoke, debris, and shrapnel into the backs of the onlookers and the faces of the emergency workers escorting survivors to what was supposed to be an earthly salvation. He had delivered them to a divine salvation and judgment instead.

Gore and body parts were splattered across the pavement in a manner only an abstract artist or a madman could appreciate. He felt himself as the former and madness as the world around him. A fire engine and ambulance which had been parked on the road were now lying on their sides. Some luckless individuals were caught underneath, never to move again. Fresh screams replaced those who could scream no longer. The only emergency worker still moving was a now gutted police officer. The Dark Angel had seen few deer who had been better field dressed as he. The officer passed out never to regain consciousness again, a mercy.

"God is great," he smirked. He put his car into drive and rode off down Route 8 toward Etna. He listened to the radio intently, waiting for the announcer to break into the song playing. "Another one bites the dust," he laughed hysterically at the irony that was to herald his coming to the world. A minute or so later the announcer came broke into the broadcast again.

"We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to bring you an update on the explosion of the BP gas station from earlier this morning in Hampton Township," the broadcaster paused. "We have just received unconfirmed reports of a second explosion or rather a second chain of explosions which witnesses said came from across the street and were directed into the crowd. Dear God! It appears as though no one who was in the blast has made it through alive, emergency workers are also amongst the dead. The chief of police has just released a statement ruling this as a terrorist action and he encourages people to exercise caution and to stay calm. Our thoughts and prayers go out to the victims of this cowardly attack and to the brave firefighters, EMTs, and police officers who sacrificed their lives trying to help others. We will bring you more updates as they arrive."

The incense of death was still fresh in his nostrils. His holy work for Him had begun, the first seal opened, the first trumpet blown. His eyes were alight with the zeal for his work. His blood burned in his veins greater than any drug made by man, and yet...the thrill was already going stale. It was a shame, a bloody shame. He chuckled at his own punning wit. He had rather hoped the feeling would linger awhile longer than it had. He thought back to his first time. Yes, the joy of that moment was even clearer than his first time with a woman and a thousand as sweet. He didn't get a chance to claim a trophy this time, maybe that was the reason why his joy had faded so quickly. He had eaten the heart of his first victim just as the native savages of this land once did to gain their strength. He thought he could still taste the sweet iron and feel the warmth of the blood upon his chin. He would have to go back when things calmed down and claim his prize. How else would he gain the strength of Sampson to knock over these heathen temples? No, not this time, this time his trophy would be less tangible, this time his trophy would be purification and holy victory. He restrained his hunter's urge and continued to drive.

Spring had finally arrived in force on the campus of La Roche College. Birds were singing and the wind blew fresh green scents with it. Libbi Jung was enjoying the scenery on her way to her noon philosophy class. The air was still crisp for spring but let's face it in Pittsburgh you only have a few seasons, almost winter, winter, still winter, and construction. This was the last semester of her sophomore year, and it had flown by so quickly she had a hard time fathoming it. Libbi was a very attractive blonde haired, blue eyed, all American bombshell. She was five foot seven with the leanness and tone of an aerobics instructor, and a playmates bust and physique. She was what one of her boyfriends had once called an "Aryan Princess"...well, in the spirit of honesty he was not really a boyfriend. He still desperately wanted that, but it was never going to happen. He was more of a drunken mistake that didn't know he was a mistake. Finding someone to replace Derrick would not be all that difficult to say the least, not with her looks.

Libbi had stepped into her class, late as usual, only half listening to what was being instructed. In her mind the professor should feel privileged on a day like today she had deigned to grace him and his classroom with her presence. That is why when she heard the quote with clarity she decided it was probably worth writing down and remembering. Her pencil whipped it into her notebook, "When history remembers us, how will they speak our names?" yes it would be worth remembering. Her phone began to chime just then, a song that even in a night club might seem too risqué to play.

"Miss Jung!" the professor shouted from his lectern. "You know my rules on the use of cellular phones in class."

Dr. Parks was quite possibly the most right winged "liberal" Libbi had ever had the misfortune of meeting. Dr. Parks was a short, paunchy, balding man in his early sixties with a bad temperament and worse sense of fashion. He had just been rejected tenure for the third time making his already bad temper all the touchier. Too much coffee and too many cigarettes aged him further than his years had, leathering his face and yellowing his teeth. Dr. Parks wanted to make a spectacle of this girl who would dare violate one of his precious rules. Maybe he could even keep that little hottie after class and have her work to get her beloved electronic device back. The thought made him smile inside, although he knew it would never happen.

"Sorry Dr. Parks I just forgot to put it on silent when I stepped in that's..." Libbi started to say before she was interrupted.

Another phone began to ring in the classroom, and then another, and then another. Soon enough it seemed as though everyone had conspired together to defy the will of Dr. Parks, god of the class room. Oh they would pay they would all pay if that was the case. Essays had been a favorite of his, essays detailing why they were wrong to be insubordinate or disruptive. However, he was beginning to consider ejecting a few students and putting them before the disciplinary board, sending a message to all.

"Dr. Parks," a student called out from the third row, "Something has happened, something big. The news is showing it right now."

"What channel Mister Jefferson?" Dr. Parks grew concerned, but spoke with a dignified indifference in his voice. The last time something of this magnitude had happened in his classroom, some Arab maniacs had hijacked some planes and flew them into the World Trade Center and the Pentagon.

"All of them," the student replied somberly.

"God help us," he said in a low voice. Dr. Parks didn't actually believe in a supreme being, but it couldn't hurt to hedge your bets. He turned on the television which was mounted above him. The image of a newscaster replaced his class notes.

"Good afternoon and I am Jeff Goodwin on the scene. Behind me you will see the still smoldering flames of this BP gas station on the corner of Route 8 and Wildwood Road Extension. During the early morning rush hour a fiery explosion ripped through the peaceful quiet town just on the edge of North Park. The initial explosion incinerated four motorists and their vehicles at the pumps. Three people, including the cashier, were located inside the convenience store when the windows were blown in by the force of the blast. The fire spread quickly into the store and set it ablaze. First responders arrived on the scene within ten minutes. However...," Before the news man could say anything else the camera zoomed in on the destruction. Wrecked vehicles, mangled metal and twisted bodies lay behind. "...as you can see it was not to be the worst of things to happen. According to best estimates, five to ten minutes after the arrival of emergency crews another explosion from across the road occurred. Investigators have ruled that this was a homemade explosive known as an IED or improvised explosive device. The device seems to have been designed to throw bits of metal called shrapnel, much like the claymore mine used by the military. This secondary explosion is what claimed the lives of the emergency crews and the survivors from the first explosion, as well as the many onlookers. The current count of dead and wounded right now stands at twenty four dead and three missing. Speculation is this may be a terrorist attack, although it is unknown if it is linked to al-Qaeda or some other group, as no one has yet claimed responsibility. We will bring you more news as it happens. I am Jeff Goodwin reporting live."

Dr. Parks turned off the television his mouth still agape. The room sat in stunned silence, almost thick enough to be palpable. In the back row a young woman started crying. More than a couple students pulled out their secret flasks they had brought with them to keep the day interesting and drank from them. They shared their contents with the students to the left and right of them. Dr. Parks thought of the pint of Jack Daniels he kept in his office, sure he had livened his coffee with it this morning as any other morning, but he desperately need to gulp straight from the bottle right now. Silence stretched on only broken by the staccato sobs of the woman in the back row. That sound is what finally broke his trance.

"Class is dismissed for the weekend," Dr. Parks muttered in disbelief, "Make sure you stay safe and I'll see you on Monday."

Libbi was shocked, appalled, and more than a little nauseated. "How could this happen?" She kept asking herself, as she stepped outside. She had grown up not ten minutes from that spot. Her hands were shaking badly as she reached into her purse for the rarely used pack of cigarettes she kept hidden there. Having one now she hoped would calm her nerves a little bit so she could get home and relax. Libbi had gone to school in the Hampton School District her entire primary education. Everyone there called it the Hampton Bubble because nothing really bad had ever really happened there. Now something really bad had really happened that would burst the happy little bubble forever. The middle school was right up the hill from where the attack had taken place and the high school not much further beyond that. Libbi began to think about all the times she had been to that very gas station, the one which no longer existed. It didn't seem real. The birds no longer seemed to be in as chipper of a mood as they sang their morning songs. The cool refreshing air that had whisked through the campus playfully suddenly seemed to chill her to the bone. How many times had she gassed up her little car there? How many of her friends went there to buy gas and snacks before school? A new thought chilled her further, how many of her friends had been there when it went up? She hurried quicker than ever for her dorm room. If she could just get inside there then she could feel some measure of safety and perhaps have a drink to take the edge off.

"Lib, hey Lib!" a man's voice shouted.

"Shit," Libbi mutter to herself underneath her breath. There at the end of the sidewalk was the lovesick puppy, Derrick Warren. Derrick was finishing his senior year with a degree in history and a minor in theology. He was of average height, not entirely impressive physically. He kept a short haircut and always had well manicured hands. He was the type of guy that one day you could see him and before he walked away, you could forget everything about him. For Libbi though it was a little different. Libbi wanted to forget, but she couldn't. She would never forget his face or the sound of his voice, nor the touch of his hands. She shivered again feeling a bit dirty. Well at least she knew in a pinch she could probably outlast, out fight, and out run him.

Why had she slept with him again? She guessed what had originally drew her to him were his piercingly blue eyes, the type you could feel on you and not just see. Well, that and the fifth of vanilla vodka she had downed at the party that night probably had something to do with it. This would have been a decent excuse for her mistake if it had been the only time, but unfortunately it wasn't. It had taken her a couple of times before she realized how he would wait until she was really drunk and would offer to take her home with ulterior motives. She had never said no though and it wasn't like he didn't buy her things and dote on her afterwards. She didn't feel all that taken advantage of, which did not mean she hadn't been trying to drop him all semester quicker than someone on fire does before they start rolling.

"Hey Derrick," Libbi tried to sound as if she had just recognized him and was happy to see him. "How have you been?" she smiled out of politeness. His short blond hair caught the light, his eyes were practically dancing, and he seemed more chipper than usual. Libbi realized if she had not been very drunk every time they had been together, she would have probably laughed at his advances instead of capitulating. He was nobody, not even worth a second glance, but when alcohol is involved frequently your perceptions of someone's physical attractiveness become somewhat skewed.

"Lib, have you heard? It's been all over the news." Derrick said. His voice was excited at the news he was about to deliver.

Libbi could not determine if his excitement was just about the news, or if it was because it gave him an excuse to talk to her. Either way she knew that had he been a puppy his tail would be wagging furiously right now.

She started to chuckle internally at the thought and then said, "Yeah, I heard, Dr. Parks sent us home early because of it. I know the gas station they attacked. I just hope it wasn't as bad as the media made it out to be." Derrick was not fond of the media, bunch of liberal reactionaries he had called them on more than one occasion. She hoped by bringing them up it would end their conversation sooner, but no such luck.

"If it bleeds it leads," was all he said with a shrug. "Lib, I was wondering if you weren't doing anything if maybe we could like hang out or catch a movie or something this weekend?" he paused. "I was just thinking we've been seein each other for a little while now and maybe we could..."

"I don't think so Derrick," she interrupted him abruptly. "We have had some fun times, yes. Maybe we can still be friends, but we will never be anything more than that. You have to understand that Derrick," she said with conviction.

Libbi had spent the better part of this semester trying to put him down easily, but it didn't ever seem to take. How could she have been clearer than she had the last time she said no to his advances? She had told him they would not be an item any longer and that she wanted to just be friends. Why couldn't he get it through his thick skull?

"B-b-but I love you!" he stammered. "We are so good together. No one has ever made me feel the way you do before. No, one could love you as much as I do, I know it."

"Stop it Derrick!" she shouted at him as she glared. "If I had realized sleeping with you that handful of times when I was drunk would turn you into a sniveling creeper, I would have never fucked you!" she blurted. Derrick's eyes began to water and his breath came in hiccups, he was about to start bawling. "Were you like this with every other girl who ever agreed to get on her back for you?" she said.

"No," Derrick said collecting himself. "Well, yes I guess."

"What do you mean you guess?" Libbi inquired, agitation still had hold of her voice.

"Well," he said now somewhat composed, "You were my first, my only," he blurted out finally.

"Oh" she said. This guy really was as pathetic as he looked.

"So you see," he sniffed, "you really are my only, my one, my beautiful Aryan princess, my..."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" she screeched at him, "That's enough, you leave me the fuck alone, quit calling me that and for that matter quit calling me altogether!"

Libbi stormed off in the opposite direction. Derrick once again began to cry. What on earth had she been thinking? She accepted the idea the first time was the only real time she could remember ever agreeing to have sex with him, but the other times she couldn't be sure if she had or hadn't. Because she was unsure she decided it wasn't worth jeopardizing both of their reputations on. If however he didn't get the point and it happened again, Libbi was going to the cops.

That night Libbi decided to go out with her friend and roommate Melani Prescott. Her roommate had a way of looking at things in an interesting light. Her pearl of wisdom was, "the best way to get over a guy was to get under another one". Apparently this was the advice her kooky grandma had told her after she had broken up with her boyfriend of three years, and she had been right then. What the grandmother did not know was that Melani never really loved him. She had only stayed with him because it was convenient and had been under quite a few guys already. Melani was a fiery redhead with green eyes and skin like fine porcelain. She was petite only standing at five foot two, but don't let her size fool you because she would knock your sorry ass out if you looked at her funny. When the two of them went out men would throw themselves at them. More often than not the girls would shoot them down just for laughs. A few however were lucky enough, or the girls were drunk enough, to be able to go home with them. The latter of the two was how Libbi had made the woeful mistake of sleeping with Derrick Warren.

"You look hot girlie!" Melani told Libbi as they stepped out into the cool night air. Libbi was dressed in a classic little black dress that hugged her curves and gave her an almost perfect hourglass figure. The dress also had a plunging neck line which drew great attention to her chest. She finished off the outfit with a pair of fashionable shoes. "Spin around and lemme check you out," Melani said to Libbi. Libbi did so with a little melodramatic fanfare.

"How's that?" Libbi asked of Melani.

"If I weren't going after some dick tonight, I'd do ya," Melani said as she winked at Libbi.

"Well that's comforting," Libbi said sticking out her tongue. "You look pretty good yourself," she told Melani.

Melani was never one to put on dresses. She had been a bit of a tomboy growing up and the habits had stuck as far as fashion was concerned. Melani was wearing a pair of jeans that could have been painted on and a pink halter top. She might have grown up a tomboy, but there was no question she was all woman now. Being someone who couldn't even start walking in heels, she was wearing a pair of tennis shoes. Melani's bluish green eye shadow made her eyes seem almost unnaturally green, like a tiger's. The fire behind those eyes seemed to make them glow and said they were just as hungry. Libbi wasn't sure if Melani's hair made her lipstick look a more vibrant red or vice versa. She had full pouty lips that would have made every other woman jealous and every man curious. One thing was for sure, if Melani didn't want to go to bed alone, she wouldn't have to. Then again, neither would Libbi although she tended to be a little less public with her sexual appetites.

"Let's go," Libbi said, and off they went.

Libbi and Melani drank and danced at the house party, but everyone seemed a little down from the attack. Everyone knew where the place was and most people knew someone who knew someone who died there. This air of melancholy did not stop the guys from hitting on the pair of girls, and it didn't stop the girls from shooting down every lame pick up line handed to them. All the same, they still had fun and for a time were able to forget about what had happened. Libbi was afraid she might run into Derrick at the party, as he tended to always know where she was, and Melani seemed to be getting drunk enough to let some meat head take her home. This drunk and heck, Mel might have even taken Dr. Parks home. Libbi didn't like that and shuddered at the mental image of her philosophy professor with her friend. Libbi knew this guy hitting on Mel right now wasn't good enough for her, so she decided to intervene.

"Hey Mel, let's go home," Libbi said. "I'm getting pretty drunk and I'm afraid of what I'll do if I run into Derrick," she lied. Libbi knew she would never ever do anything with Derrick ever again. What Melani didn't know wouldn't hurt her though. Besides the guy she was talking to was a total tool and probably had a tiny dick from all the steroids he had to be taking. Libbi was doing her a favor.

"Awright Lib," Melani slurred drunkenly. "Lez go." As it turned out neither of them would be taking home a guy tonight and if Mel had she probably wouldn't have remembered the encounter anyhow.

As they meandered on the way home Libbi couldn't seem to shake the feeling that somebody was watching them. Libbi hurried her intoxicated friend along. The night air had a menacing feel to it. Something evil was out there, something dark and foreboding. The one small mercy Libbi found was that Derrick wasn't waiting for her on the way home or at her dorm room door as he usually was. Maybe her scolding of him had the intended effect of warding him off. Libbi had to hope so at least, but wouldn't be surprised if it didn't last for long.

Jake Church enlisted in the army his senior year of high school. Six years and four tours later he was back at home and back to civilian life. Home to the Hampton Bubble, no IEDs, no snipers, and no kids waiting to throw a grenade into your truck after you just gave him a soccer ball. Yeah, he could get used to this again alright. Nothing could be sweeter in life than a life at peace and no one could tell him any different, to hell with battlefield glory. He still jumped and looked for the nearest cover when he heard balloons pop or a car back fire. All things considered though, he was just happy to be able to sleep-in every now and again, and hoped eventually he could return to being a normal guy again.

Jake was a Forward Observer by trade while he was in the army. His job was to bring in fire support when the grunts bit off more than they could chew, or to prep a battle field so when the grunts went in they just had to pick through the pieces. He rained fire from the skies and made death a living. He was good at it too, so good he actually came to loath himself for it. It was one thing to shoot a person or blow them up in a video game or if they were trying to kill you, it was something all together different when your whole purpose in life was to end others lives. Jake's hands were so blood soaked that at times he had a hard time looking at himself in the mirror. This was the main reason he had left the service.

Sergeant Church fought his way into and out of both Iraq and Afghanistan two times a piece. In that time he acquired a myriad of skills useful to a combat soldier, infantry tactics, small arms, he was a certified combat life saver, and was the company intelligence and exploitation NCO. It was the latter job which made him realize maybe he had the smarts to make it through college. The new GI bill let Jake, and many others like him, go to school. Jake had decided to go to school at La Roche College. The GI Bill let him do it without having to live on Ramen Noodles. Jake hadn't decided what to major in, but so what, he had time. Jake lived close enough to get to school on a bicycle most days, but he still had his trusty Ford Explorer for when it got nasty out. Jake felt had spent enough days in the rain, snow, and mud to earn the right to ride in comfort when he wanted to.

Riding a bike through North Park after class had a way of settling his nerves and letting him organize his thoughts. Now that it was spring again he could start riding again. Jake was twenty four and had a lean muscular form from his time in the army. During that time he had seen too much, which was why he had not reenlisted when his time came up on his contract. It wasn't that he was a coward or that he didn't enjoy the camaraderie, he just couldn't stand to see anymore of his friends lying in pieces in some God forsaken country for people who just didn't care. Jake had brown hair and eyes and stood at a mere five foot ten inches. What he lacked in height he made up for in wit and muscle. Jake had converted to being Greek Orthodox while he was in the service. He enjoyed being part of a church that hadn't changed since Christ and the rich traditions associated with it. Also, the sacrament of holy confession let him feel maybe one day he could be forgiven for all of his sins and the lives he had taken.

Jake was working tonight at Magoo's Bar and Grille as a bartender and he was a damn good one. If there was one thing he had learned in the army it was how to make a damn good drink out of damn near anything damn near anywhere. Now that he was getting paid for this skill, he was quite a happy man indeed.

"Here ya go miss," Jake said as he slid the rum and coke to the girl at the bar.

"Thanks," she said winking at him.

Yeah, he liked this job better than the army just fine. There was much better scenery at this job and much better possibilities. He smiled to himself thinking of a couple of the joking come-ons he had received in country by some of his buddies.

"The army was quite possibly the most homophobic yet homoerotic organization in the free world," Jake thought to himself

"Church is that you?" a gruff voice came from behind him. Sitting there was a high school buddy he had played football with on the bar stool.

"Demetrius Raines, how the hell are you doin man?" Jake said. Jake leaned forward and shook his old friend's hand. Demetrius Raines was an all star defensive end throughout high school, set a few records for solo sacks per game. He was a blockhouse of a man standing at six foot three and not an inch of fat on him. He had been the only black guy on the team back then and still kept the shaved head he had sported all through high school. Demetrius received a full ride scholarship to USC for football when he graduated and for a time looked like he would be a prospect for the NFL with his speed, agility, aggression, raw power, and sense for which way the play was going.

"I'm ok, hurt myself in college ball so I decided to come back to the Burgh and become a cop. What have you been up to?" Demetrius asked.

Jake suddenly remembered hearing about Demetrius's injury after he got back from his first deployment, an offensive lineman had chop blocked him below the knee which had torn it apart. It was a damn shame because guys with his talent just didn't come around all too often.

"I just got out of the army. I decided I had seen enough to last me a life time. So now I'm going to school over at La Roche." said Jake. Jake popped the top off of an Iron City beer and handed it to his friend. "This one's on me," he said.

"Thanks I could use it," Demetrius said. He took a long pull on the icy beer and then set it down. "Don't suppose you heard about what happened today did you?" he asked.

"Don't think I could escape it, it's been on the news all day." Jake answered. He pointed up to a television screen still rerunning shots of the carnage. "And being a bartender means I'm also a part time psychiatrist," he said with a smile.

"Yeah, I lost a couple of buddies on the force in that," Demetrius sniffed. "I hope we catch the son of a bitch that did it so I can string his ass up by his balls," he snarled. Demetrius took another long pull at the beer, trying to drown the pain with booze.

"I know the feeling D-Train," Jake said with the sympathy only someone who had had that happen to them could have felt. It seemed that no matter how much you drank, the feeling never went away for very long. "A few good friends of mine went out the same way in Iraq and Afghanistan, only difference is we knew it could happen." Jake took a second to say a silent prayer for the fallen. It was nearing last call so Jake made the announcement. A few people got another drink. The greater majority of the patrons probably were too drunk to remember what he had just said and began to settle their tabs.

"Hey if you don't want to do this for the rest of your life, we could use someone with your experience on the force," Demetrius said. "Heck, maybe we could even bring you in as a consultant or something." Demetrius downed the rest of his Iron City beer.

"Thanks I'll give it some thought," Jake said politely. With that Demetrius gave him one more friendly wave as he headed to the door.

"Thanks for the beer, I'll see you later." Demetrius said and then he was out into the brisk night.

Magoo's closed and Jake was finishing cleaning and restocking his bar. Jake bet he knew more about IEDs and unexploded ordinance than any other twelve people put together this side of bomb disposal teams. He knew enough that he didn't want to do anything with them ever again, or the aftermath they wrought. Jake wasn't blowing smoke up Demetrius's ass when he told him he had lost friends that way. Too many caskets came off of the airplanes at Dover just sent home with a couple pieces of body parts, or just empty with nothing at all because of those damned things. Jake came here to get away from that shit, why was it following him like some malevolent hell hound? He had been promoted out of it damn it. He had become a PFC, a private fucking citizen.

Jake grew more agitated as he put the stools up on the tables. Something was wrong, something was terribly wrong. He had not felt like this since the last time he went on route clearing mission down IED Alley. His right hand slid to the small of his back and touched the cold steel of his Colt .45. He had a concealed carry license and he damn well knew you would never know when you needed a gun, but you would be sorry if you didn't have one when the need arose. The cold steel weight was comforting, yet somehow still felt insignificant. No, something wasn't right and he was hoping he wouldn't have to find out the hard way.

II

The Angel of Death spread his blackened wings as he descended on his next target. Three gas stations lay within a quarter mile of each other. The two on the hill were separated from the third by a church and a cemetery...how fitting. Where Peebles Road intersected with Duncan, up on the hill was the Duncan manor shopping center. Past Peebles Road and over the next hill was Passavant Hospital and La Roche College. A good venue, yes this will do he thought. After this, his work would be simplified, evil would make itself known and the onslaught of terror would take almighty Babylon to its knees. God's justice would be served.

Night air fresh from the growth of spring, but still crisp from the long winter filled his lungs. He looked up at the moon. It had just enough illumination so he could do his work, but not so much as to give him away. He imagined this was how the early Church under persecution would have conducted their rituals. In a manner of speaking, he too was performing a ritual for His Glory. God was watching him, blessing him with good weather for his holy work.

The Dark Angel readied his incendiaries and explosives. It amazed him how easy it was to make such things. HME was a little volatile, but with the right care it was quite useful and powerful. The raw materials for it were so readily available it had to be a sign from the Devine One that this should be the tool of Babylon's demise. He managed to get what he needed for his explosives mostly at ordinary grocery stores and Sam's Clubs. His incendiaries were a crude thermite made from junkyard metal and the aluminum gave his explosives an extra boost in power. He was even able to find a magnesium engine block he could shave down for a high temperature igniter. The cell phone he had used to call the detonator cell phone on the first bomb now became one of the detonator cell phones for the current bomb. One mass text message to the detonator phones and they would detonate almost simultaneously. Let them try to track this phone after today.

The Dark Angel had set his first two charges up on the hill when the most blackness gave him cover. It was tricky dodging the street lights and passing cars, but he managed, God willed this after all. He headed through the dip of the graveyard to get close to his last target. Evening fog filled the dip in the ground with a mist swallowing him up, making his approach nearly undetectable. He imagined himself in a scene from Sherlock Holmes in the Hound of the Baskervilles moving through fog as a mythical creature more than a man. He reached the target with glee in his eyes and with the focus of a monk. He was readying his last charges when he looked up.

"Christmas come early," he sneered.

A volunteer fire department sat right across the street from his last target. A couple of charges attached to pressure plates or the action of the doors to the garage opening. He began to chuckle with a savage gleam in his eye, "Let's see how long it takes before they realize they can't even protect themselves, let alone their people." He went back to his work.

Finishing his charges at the gas station, he had to make his way to the fire department. The trigger would be delicate, but could not be so delicate as to go off prematurely. The bombs had to function at their intended time to have their intended effect. Too early, and he would only trap the vehicles inside. If they went off too late, then he would only succeed in destroying an empty building. Upon finishing, he felt confident everything would go as planned, so he began to relax.

The sun began to awaken from its dreamy slumber and dawn was upon the land. It was a red dawn. What did the old sailors say, "red sky in the morning sailors take warning?" The Angel of Death went into the gas station which would cease to be in the next few minutes and bought a pack of Marlboro's. He chose the best place to watch the display and not be caught up in the maelstrom and settled down. He tapped the box of Marlboro's against his hand to settle the tobacco. The time was growing near. He flipped up the top of the box and pulled out a cigarette. Raising it to his lips, he lit a match. He sucked in the first puff of delicious smoke and felt it tingle deep down in his lungs.

"Ahh," he said as he exhaled, good fresh tobacco. Too bad the damn government kept taxing the hell out of it. Of course this was in turn was passed on to the average Joe who would buy the product. If that wasn't the work of the Devil himself then he didn't know what was. He drew in another long puff to savor. "Oh...what's this?" he smiled a shark toothed grin. "Christmas come mighty early indeed," he said again. A school bus was stopped next to the target he was watching on Peebles Road. This would be an epic kill indeed. The deaths of these bastards of sin would draw the attention of the whore media as nectar drew the honey bee. He drew a fresh charge from his cigarette, the coal glowed red. The coals of his eyes burrowed into the scene soon to develop. The smoke poured out from under his hooded cloak as he exhaled. If this attack did not cause its intended effect, then he may have to broaden his tactics, but for now this would do. Yes, this would do.

"Now the sun rose upon the earth when Lot entered Zoar," he recited as he dialed his cell phone. "Then the Lord rained brimstone and fire on Sodom and Gomorrah from the Lord out of heaven." As soon as he finished reciting the verse he pushed the send button. The earth shook and the heavens split. Three black and orange mushroom clouds sprouted up to the sky delivering souls for judgment straight to heaven. It was glorious. The Dark Angel lit another smooth cigarette to add to the delicious aroma now enveloping him. He had always enjoyed the smell of gasoline, even as a child, now it had an extra essence to it, the essence of freed spirits to be judged. The school bus now lay wrecked and sprawled in a twisted ruin in a ditch by the cemetery. As with yesterday, he had made sure there was traffic at the intersections to maximize the destructive force of his devices. Several unfortunate people were on fire, but they wouldn't last much longer. Screams of those who were injured filled the air in a chorus of suffering. The Dark Angel smiled at what he had wrought. He was the Lord's Avenging Angel and his works were blessed.

Just then sirens began adding to the wail of the damned. He took another long drag on his cigarette and then turned his attention to the volunteer fire department garage. He exhaled and imagined himself much like a dragon breathing smoke and fire onto his enemies. He felt power course through his veins, he was becoming quite excited indeed. The doors to the garages on the volunteer fire department began to open. This was why he was here, the trigger was a tricky little bastard, and if it worked it would stroke his ego. If it failed to trip...well that was what secondary triggers were for. When the fire engines were half way out of their garages, two explosions sang in unison throwing the engines into the air and splitting them in half on the fire house. They came crashing back down burning and splashing a mixture of burning debris and a gush of water skyward. He found the scene intensely ironic, fire trucks on fire. No help would be coming anytime soon. He had made sure of that. Any help coming now, would be from farther away and they would have to make their way past the traffic jams and onlookers which would begin swelling the roads. The despair was palpable. This would do well for His ends to be met.

As the Angel of Death headed for his car, he caught a glimpse of the church and a thought occurred to him. As the Angel of Death, the purifier, he had the ability, nay the obligation not to just punish the wicked government and the wicked people, but he also had to punish the wicked priests who spread false teachings and were perverting the faith. Did not Moses charge the Levites to slaughter their friends, brothers, and neighbors for their disobedience to God? It would be a risk, but one he had to take to fulfill His will. He was God's Avenging Angel and if he didn't follow His will, who would? As he drove away the fire was already beginning to consume the false church erected in false teaching. He had destroyed the affront to the Lord our God with a burning fire of purification.

Jake Church was already half way through his morning physical training bicycle ride, this was Saturday morning, why was he out here again? "Old habits die hard," he said to himself.

He took a swig from the tube of his hydration pouch. Jake had a five or six mile bike route that was a large loop which was one of the few loops in Pittsburgh, seeing as a road map of this place looked like the picture of a ninety year old woman's varicose veins. Instead of a well thought out street plan with a grid, it seemed as though Pittsburghers just threw up roads when they felt like going from one point to another. In this city if you took four right or left hand turns in a row there was no guarantee you would wind up where you had started. He also liked to get his ride done before the roads got clogged with rush hour traffic. Unfortunately, he had woken up late today and was a little behind so he was punishing himself by doing extra hills so he wouldn't make that mistake again. He began to think about the logic behind this line of thinking and started laughing again, "You can take a man out of the army, but you can't take the army out of a man."

He was almost to the top of the hill near Peebles Road when the world shook. He instinctively dove into the ditch by the side of the road forsaking his bike. The over pressure from the blast popped his ears so the roar seemed to be coming from under water. He drew his pistol instinctively. He was not going down without a fight. After spending so many years with a weapon at his side it felt unnatural to go unarmed, even while doing exercise. Jake's ears were still ringing from the blast. He checked himself for injury suddenly feeling very naked without body armor. He had hated every unnecessary minute of wearing it before, but when things started blowing up it had a way of changing your mind on what was and what was not necessary.

"If that wasn't a goddamn IED then I'm fuckin loony toons," he said to himself. Even so, his voice seemed so very far away, almost as an echo coming from the end of a long tunnel. He had to have been very close to the blast for that to happen. He figured the hill must have shielded him from the deadly shrapnel and the greater majority of the overpressure. Jake checked his ears and nose for blood but came away dry. He took a moment to thank heaven and his guardian angels for the topography of southwestern Pennsylvania and a faulty alarm clock. Had he woken up on time he probably would have been over the hill and in the blast zone by his estimation.

Jake began to high crawl to the crest of the hill, just in case any other nasty surprises or secondary explosions were to occur he wanted to have as low a profile as possible. He missed his Kevlar helmet he had also cursed almost every minute he had worn before now as well. The plastic job he had on now would be great if he fell off his bike, but would do exactly nothing against flying metal and debris. Jake stole a look to his left, although he could not see Passavant hospital he knew it was there.

"Hospital staff are gunna really earn their money today," he said woefully. Just then a second explosion occurred just over the hill. Pieces of brick began to rain down on him, some of it on fire. It was like a scene straight out of the Old Testament with fire co-mingled with ice because some water came down as well. "How the hell is this happening?" he asked, "Or better question yet, what the hell is happening?" Jake resumed his high crawl to the crest of the hill and peered over.

What he saw below was sheer pandemonium. The scene reminded him of what had happened when his unit was occupying a traffic control point and a vehicle borne IED, or VBIED, full of mortar rounds had gone off. The roar of fire and the high screams of the injured and dying greeted his ears like an old acquaintance you just couldn't get rid of no matter how hard you tried. The smell of death and burning meat assaulted his nostrils sending him back to the blood soaked rocks and sands he thought he had escaped from. To his left, Jake saw the mangled corpses of fire fighters next to their ruined engines.

"Well that explains the water mixed with fire," he said.

To his right he saw what used to be a gas station. Some cars were already burning empty husks with paint curling away from the metal underneath. Other cars further away were bent, rolled, or twisted depending on how close to the blast they had been. The twin pillars of fire and smoke from over the next hill caught his eye next, only this was not some kind of divine miracle leading the Israelites out of captivity from Pharaoh, these were funeral pyres. Motion caught his eye, a vehicle driving away from the scene, a white car. It swung by the church and stopped. Jake saw the figure inside the vehicle throw something toward the church. Seconds later the church erupted into flames and the car drove off.

"That lousy son of a bitch has to be the asshole that started this whole thing," Jake said.

He committed the vehicle to memory and then turned his attention back to the devastation below. The vehicles looked like they had been tossed around by some petulant child who had thrown a temper tantrum and taken out his anger on his toys. It was while making this comparison he thought he heard what sounded like the cries of frightened and wounded children. The sound made his insides drop and he almost lost his composure. Those noises were children. That fucking bastard had no heart.

"Lord, have mercy," Jake prayed as he did his Orthodox cross.

At that, he holstered his pistol, lest someone mistake him for the bad guy. A few stunned onlookers were coming up behind him. He stood up believing everything to be safe, or safe enough to stand up that is. His training took over alleviating any conscious thought. "Alright everyone listen up!" Jake shouted. "Bring it in!" Bewildered onlookers looked at him as though he was speaking Chinese.

"Hey, listen to him he knows what to do!" a pretty blonde girl said to snap the rest of the crowd out of their bewildered state.

"Thank you," Jake said. "Who here has any first aid training?" a couple of people raised their hands. "Alright everyone else, team up with someone who knows what they are doing. You," he pointed to the pretty blonde, "Do you have a cell phone handy?"

"Ah, yeah I do," she answered.

"Good call 911. Tell them there has been another attack. Three gas stations and a fire house, multiple injuries. You got it?" he asked in a tone of authority.

"Got it, I'll call them right now," she said and she began to dial her phone.

"Ok, each team if you have something to write with that would be handy, if not then you will need to have a great memory. We need to record all the information we can about the victims we treat, if you put on a turnicate you need to write down when you put it on. Try to describe their injuries in detail and what you did for them. If you have any questions send someone back to me. If they can move without risking further injury you need to bring them back to this spot. Serious injuries go to the left, those not as serious go to the right. Got it?" Jake asked. Heads bobbed up and down. "You, you, and you," Jake said pointing to three people who were so obviously terrified they would be no good to patients and would probably cause those who were not already panicking to be so. "You are my scroungers. Go to every house, and car. Find water, ice, blankets, splints, crutches, tweezers, band aids, pillows, tape, sheets, towels, Ziploc bags, and plastic wrap, you name it and you think you can use it, you get it. Understand?" the three dazed people nodded. "I said do you understand!" Jake shouted at them in a tone of unquestionable command authority.

"Uh, uh, yes...yes Sir," they replied.

Good, Jake thought that might have at least started to snap them out of their shocked state and actually make them useful. Jake knew what the sheets were for, but doubted anyone else did. They would cover the dead so the living wouldn't go too deeply into shock seeing dead people all around them. He kept that part to himself so as not to send the makeshift medics into hysterics. They had enough horrors to deal with today.

"Ok you two big bulls, you are my litter bearers, if they don't have head or neck injuries and can't move on their own, you find a way to work out getting them up here." The two men he had pointed to looked like they could have played defensive line for the Steelers so they shouldn't have a problem hauling people around.

Now organized Jake addressed his volunteers as a whole again, "We start here, and then we move up there and help out those people," Jake pointed first to the scene of carnage in front of them and then to the smoke on the horizon. "Don't worry. The cavalry will be on the way soon so just do your best. Keep an eye out for anything that doesn't look like it fits, if you see something suspicious get away from it right away and come and get me. Any questions?" Jake asked and then he waited for a response. When none came he said, "Alright go see who you can help, two groups go to the school bus with the kids, the rest of you spread out."

The groups obeyed, not quite as well as an army unit, but close enough for the rag tag bunch which had just happened to come together. The pretty blonde had just got off the phone with the dispatcher and had a defeated look on her face.

"They said help will be on the way, but..." she said trailing off.

"They need to make sure the scene is secure before they send in the paramedics," Jake finished for her. By the look on her face he had guessed right.

"What should I do now?" she asked of him. Her pretty eyes were wide with fright.

"Stay here for now, you will be my runner and help me coordinate the casualty collection area for when the ambulance finally gets here," Jake told her. She would need a purpose to continue being useful.

"Right, ok," she said.

The first of the walking wounded were already making their way back to the casualty collection point. Jake separated them according to their injuries. He was starting to think his scroungers had run off when one of them came back with three more people in tow. All of their arms were full of goodies. One of the scroungers had taken initiative and recruited three more people from the neighborhood to run back supplies with them while the other two spread the word knocking on more doors for aid. Jake was delighted with what they had brought back and at their initiative. A few of the people they were bringing back were more important than the items they had brought with them. They carried blood pressure cuffs and stethoscopes. These individuals were off duty nurses and off duty EMTs as well as students from the La Roche College Nursing School. Jake hadn't even thought to ask about finding other professionals so he was impressed. More people from the housing complex were pouring out carrying whatever they thought could be used to help. Jake let a smile touch his lips briefly. There were still good people in the world after all.

Within a couple of minutes his medical cache of items and professionals were swelling to a degree he didn't think was possible in such a short time. He had to organize a logistical stock pile of items, pain killers ranging from Tylenol to some person's prescription narcotics to one side. He had crutches, and splints, and honest to goodness neck collars with improvised back boards to another. Blankets and pillows were in yet another location. Someone had a parent with extra oxygen tanks and masks, which would help with the survivors having difficulties breathing or suffering from smoke inhalation. The plastic wrap, tape, plastic bags, and other bandages were in another location, those would be good for bagging evidence or closing larger wounds until proper medical care could be given. Jake had to act quickly before this organized chaos turned into real chaos.

"Ok everyone who has experience working in the ER or with intense trauma experience and triage you stay here. Off duty EMTs and nursing students go out there and take over the more serious injuries from the layman. You do what you can and bring them back here. We have walking wounded to this side and critically wounded to the other. Those that are dead down there we will cover up, those who die here, we will cover up and put by the tree over there. You," he pointed to a very wise looking older woman who was busy already giving orders to the younger volunteers, "you will be in charge of triage up here, figure out what needs doing and organize those I left back here to take care of it." The woman nodded and began shouting orders to her makeshift team. "You," he pointed to the pretty blonde girl again, "manage this supply dump, make sure the guys up here get what they need and no one goes walking off with the narcotics. Do you think you can handle that?" Jake asked her firmly.

"Yes, Sir I'll do what I can," she said and then she went to go talk to the older woman Jake had put in charge.

Screams of the wounded sent him back to when an insurgent suicide bomber in Iraq had detonated himself in a crowded market. An image of a maimed little Iraqi girl invaded his thoughts. He forced the image from his mind and tried to keep to the task at hand lest he become a sniveling wreck of a PTSD case. The big bull litter bearers he had selected earlier were carrying an unconscious man on an improvised back board made out of someone's front door and a neck brace made from one of their sets of work boots. The care givers applauded their caution and creativity and then began work on the man to see whether he had an immediate life threatening condition other than unconsciousness. Jake grabbed a few Ziploc bags and the plastic wrap as well as a couple of lengths of cloth and a roll of duct tape and headed for the downed bus. He wasn't able to help the little Iraqi girl, but he'd be damned if he wouldn't be able to help these kids.

When he arrived at the scene it was worse than he could have imagined. He turned away to vomit. The smell of death, blood, and bowels which had given way, mixed with a palpable smell of fear. The smell coming out of the bus was all consuming. "No, not again," he thought to himself. Jake had smelled the smell before in battle, but this was not battle, these were children. What wrong had they ever done? Who could be so cold as to murder a bus full of children on their way to school for Christ's sake? Most of them probably weren't even ten years old, and by the looks and the smells some never would be. Two of the original volunteers ran up to him eyes bugging out of their heads wide with terror.

"Sir, Sir!" they yelled, "We have a boy. A rod or something went through his chest and he has foamy blood coming out of the hole and around his mouth and nose!"

"Oh fuck!" Jake yelled, "Take me to him." What the volunteers had just described was a classic sucking chest wound, he had to act and he had to act now. They took him around the bus. The boy had been thrown through a window when the bus rolled. The boy's eyes were wide with terror and Jake could hear the sickening sucking gurgle of the wound. Jake took out his knife and cut away what was left of the boy's shirt. One look at the wound confirmed his worst suspicions, a neat little hole sat on the right side of the boy's chest. Jake took out a plastic bag and cut it in half. He put half of it right over the boy's wound and then he took out the duct tape and taped three sides of the bag directly to the boy's chest. His breathing which had been coming in short gurgling gasps slowed and his breathing eased a bit.

"Ok, carefully take him over to the lady in charge of triage, tell her you have a sucking chest wound and show her what I did. Keep him level, can you do that?" Jake asked the volunteers. Their eyes were wide still, but this time it was with wonderment and admiration instead of fear.

"Yeah, we'll do that," they said and they carried the boy off.

"Sir, hey Sir over here!" more shouts were coming from the front end of the bus.

Jake looked down and saw something that would stay burned into his memory forever. A little girl was lying on her back unconscious. Her abdomen had been sliced open neatly by either some shrapnel or flying glass. The Iraqi girl popped into his mind again and Jake had to force the image away so he could think straight. Jake turned his head temporarily and swallowed back a scream. After he collected himself, he turned back to his tiny patient. Her bowels were coming through the almost surgical looking slice in her lower abdomen.

"Ok everyone, here is what needs to happen, I will stand on one side of her and one of you will stand on the other. Two more of you will gently lift the small of her back off the ground as evenly as possible. I will start by handing you," he pointed to the man right across from him on the little girl's right side, "the end of this plastic wrap, tuck it under her and wait until I hand you the roll. Then you will wrap it over top of her stomach again and I'll hand it to you again. Does everyone understand?" Jake waited for their nods. They were varying shades of grey, white, and green, but all intent on the work that lay ahead. "On my count lift, one, two, three, lift," Jake said. He began passing the plastic wrap to the fellow on the other side of the girl. They went around her four or five times to make sure that the entire wound was covered. "Ok, get a back board, roll her on to it with her abdomen up and get her to the casualty collection point immediately." The volunteers did as they were told.

Once they had cleared out this first area of the wounded and confirmed those who appeared to be dead were in fact dead, Jake sent a runner up the hill on his bicycle to check on the situation near the Duncan Manor Shopping Center. Meanwhile, Jake returned to the casualty collection point he had established to see what else he could do. The first thing he noticed was some of the people had sheets covering them, which was a sign that they hadn't made it. Others were still suffering, but looked like they were going to pull through. The once great medical supply dump looked as though it had a tornado rip through it. Some remnants of supplies were strewn on top of others, but most of it was plainly gone. Blood, filth and grime was everywhere as well as the persistent smells of death, blood, and human excrement. Many people were topless as they were using their shirts for bandages, slings, and to hold make shift splints in place. Deciding this was a good idea he followed suit and put his shirt under a little boy's head with a broken arm. In places nurses and EMTs with stethoscopes and blood pressure cuffs were either nodding at the good or working like hell to keep those who were still alive to stay that way. Jake noticed the boy and girl he had worked on were unconscious, but still breathing. It was a small mercy because the pain they would have been in would have unbearable if they were conscious. The runner came back just then looking grim.

"What's the news?" Jake asked. By the look of the runners face, Jake could probably guess.

"Well Sir, on the bright side there weren't as many people up there when the bombs went off. But..." The young man stopped and took a deep breath trying to keep emotion at bay, "Everyone up there is dead."

"You did what you could do, get some water and take a break and then if you are feeling up to it you can help the people who are still with us," Jake said as he put a hand on the adolescent's shoulder. The young man nodded eyes welling with water.

It was then Jake heard the sounds of sirens and the sweet sound of angel wings in the form of a life-flight helicopter or two. Jake could not be sure just how much time had passed since the start of this ordeal, it could have been ten minutes or two hours, when you are dealing with a mass casualty event time often gets lost in the hurried frenzy of adrenaline and fear. You had to get some kind of treatment to the victims in the "golden hour" or they would be goners for sure. The woman who was the head of triage was talking with a group of paramedics and their crews, directing them to the most seriously injured and in most need of transport to a hospital. When a policeman came up to her, she pointed to Jake who waved him over. Jake jogged to where he had been beckoned.

"Sir, I'm given to understand you organized this effort?" the police officer asked.

"Yes officer I am," Jake responded as professionally as he could.

"Can you tell me in detail what happened here?" the officer asked.

"Yes Sir I can," Jake said. He began to explain everything from the moment he felt the first explosion straight through to when the police arrived. It was as thorough of a debriefing as he had ever given since he had been in combat. The only glitch was in the frenzy of taking care of all of those wounded he had forgotten all about the white car he had seen driving away from the church as it went up in flames. When he finished the police officer put away his pen and paper and stuck out his hand.

"Sir, I want to be the first person to shake your hand and thank you for all the lives you helped to save today," the officer said.

"I only did what I had to do. The real heroes and heroines are the people behind me," Jake said taking the officers hand and shaking it. Without much further fuss, Jake went back to the work at hand, helping the emergency crews with the wounded.

Libbi woke up early that Saturday morning to go for a walk down to the gas station to pick up some Motrin and Pepto-Bismol for Melani before she woke up. She knew Melani would have one hell of a hangover after last night. When the girls got home from the party Libbi still was unable to shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen, so she never really got to sleep. She was at the bottom of the hill when the first explosion rocked the world under her feet.

"What the hell?" Libbi said. She started running for the hill and saw a biker dive into a ditch on the side of the road. Thinking she should probably take his example, she followed suit. It was a good thing she did too because a second explosion roared just as she got down. When the biker stood up she felt safe enough to do the same and she walked up the hill. Other people were gathering in the street as well by then.

The biker turned around just then and was trying to get everyone's attention in an attempt to organize them into some kind of rescue party. People were still milling around dumbfounded so Libbi decided she had to do something.

"Hey, listen to him he knows what to do!" Libbi yelled to try and quite the crowd. The man was handsome looking, not too particularly tall but he looked like he could have been chiseled by the hand of Michelangelo himself. What authority he spoke with, everyone was listening now to what he was saying. He was saying so many things that made so much sense, but she doubted if anyone else would have thought about it at a time like this. How did he keep his cool?

"Do you have a cell phone handy?" the man said as he pointed to her.

"Ah, yes, yes I do," Libbi answered.

"Good call 911. Tell them there has been another attack. Three gas stations and a fire house, multiple injuries. You got it?" he asked in a tone of authority.

"Got it, I'll do it right now," she said and she began dialing her phone. The man went on to give more orders as Libbi waited for someone on the other end of the phone to pick up.

"Hello this is 911 what's your emergency?" the dispatcher asked from the other end of the line.

"Hello, yes this is Libbi Jung. There has been another attack. Three gas stations and a fire house, multiple injuries," Libbi was proud she remembered to say everything the man had told her, but fear was creeping back into her voice.

"What is your location?" the dispatcher asked.

"My location, uh, uh," Libbi felt a little stupid, she had lived here all of her life and suddenly she forgot where she was. She tried to explain, "I'm near Passavant hospital and La Roche College, that's where we are taking the wounded on the top of this little hill. The gas station near the fire house here blew up and the two gas stations near the Duncan Manor shopping center blew up I think," she said the fear coming out a little stronger.

"Do you know if the attacker is still present, or if he left any traps like he did last time?" the dispatcher asked of her.

"Umm, I don't know about any of that," Libbi answered truthfully.

"We will have to wait then until the scene has been secured before we can send in paramedics, but we are sending police right away, once they say the site is secure, we can send in more help," the dispatcher said.

"Thanks," Libbi said with a little malice as she hung up the phone. She walked over to the man in charge and prepared to give him the bad news. "They said help will be on the way, but..." Libbi trailed off.

"They need to make sure the scene is secure before they send in the paramedics," the man finished for her.

"How did he know that?" she asked herself. Then she put it aside and asked him, "What should I do now?"

"Stay here for now, you will be my runner and help me coordinate the casualty collection area for when the ambulance finally gets here," he told her.

"Right, ok," Libbi said. The next few moments, or was it minutes, were all a blur of blood, gore, and panic. Could it have been hours? All she knew was, by the end, she was covered in blood, sweat, and the smell of fear. The wounded had stopped coming back and judging from the look on the guy's face the handsome biker had sent to look ahead, there would be no more survivors coming back after him.

A few of the wounded didn't make it. This was the first time Libbi had seen a dead person outside of a funeral home and it made her physically ill. Libbi made sure with the lady the biker had left in charge that the people were in fact dead and then covered them with the sheets. She heard sirens approaching and the whoop, whoop, whooping of helicopters. The man had promised the cavalry would arrive and they had. This whole ordeal would be over soon. Thank God. Heck, she had just gone out for Motrin and Pepto for a friend's hangover and wound up treating how many injuries? How trivial the trip seemed now. She wondered if the explosions had set off a round of cursing in her room from her semi-comatose roommate. The thought made her chuckle, trivial worries indeed.

Most of the wounded were gone now, taken either by ambulance or helicopter for further treatment. She saw the great man who had accomplished all of this walking away from a police officer after shaking hands. She wondered if he even realized his hands were covered in blood and he had just put it all over the policeman's hand. Then she took a moment to evaluate herself. She was a wreck. Blood, dirt, and stuff she couldn't identify and didn't want to, smeared her as well. The great man stepped away from the patients off to the side of the road and lit a cigarette with trembling hands. "Is it possible he could have been just as scared as the rest of us?" she thought. It seemed absurd at first, but he was only a man, so maybe it was possible. She came up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder. He jumped.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," Libbi said gently. "I was wondering if I could get one of those," she said pointing to his cigarette.

"Sure," he said as he handed her a cigarette, hands still trembling.

"Thanks," Libbi said as she took it. Then she leaned close to him to light it off of his coal. Once she had it going she exhaled and said, "What you did today...it was amazing, everyone was so confused and scared, but you weren't. And what you did for those kids! How did you even think of that?" Libbi asked.

"Well," he took a drag from his cigarette and let it out slowly, "I've seen more than my fair share of blood overseas," he paused to take the last long drag on his cigarette before grinding it out under his shoe. "I was in the Army for six years and spent four of them in Iraq and Afghanistan. I had hoped I wouldn't see this kind of thing again when I came home, but no such luck today it seems," he said ruefully. His eyes appeared to be watering.

"So what do you call yourself soldier?" Libbi asked as playfully as she could, considering the circumstances. Could soldiers who had been to war still cry? If that was true, then it made him all the more human and sweet, not weak.

"Oh, I'm sorry with all the excitement I forgot my manners," he wiped his face with the back of his hand clearing the almost tears away, "My name is Jake Church. What's your name?" Jake asked her.

"I'm Libbi, Libbi Jung," she answered him with a smile. Jake Church didn't seem to be a name as grand as the man he was, but what name could fit him this side of Hercules?

The Angel of Death sat down in front of his television and turned on the news, waiting in eager anticipation for the heralding of his coming and the beginning of his new world order.

"Good afternoon and I'm Jeff Goodwin on the scene," the newsman said. "In the early morning hours another attack much like yesterday occurred. The would-be terrorist blew up three more gas stations during the morning rush hour. When the volunteer fire department located behind me opened its doors to help the injured and extinguish the flames two more explosions extinguished them instead. The next part of this story may be disturbing to some of our viewers so we would ask now you take discretion in further viewing," the camera man panned over to the scene of a mangled school bus. "This school bus was full of children on their way to school when the explosion took place, rolling it over the hill and into the cemetery. Many people were killed and some are still missing. However there is a bright spot in this dismal story,"

"No," the Dark Angel said leaning closer to the television.

"A former army Sergeant named Jake Church was taking a morning bike ride when the explosions occurred," the news man said. "After seeing the devastation, he quickly marshaled volunteers and organized them into a rescue party."

"Damn him, damn that man, and damn the fucking whores who called themselves the "free press". This was supposed to be my day!" The Angel of Death screamed jumping to his feet. "The trumpets were blown and the seals were opened! Who the fuck do you think you are, defying Gods work!" he raged at the television. The Angel of Death threw an ashtray at the wall behind the television and it shattered, much like his plans.

"Sergeant Church is to be recognized later this week in a ceremony honoring his valor and courage in the face of overwhelming odds, and against a despicable foe that would attack innocent children. My name is Jeff Goodwin and this is the news, with a bright spot in an otherwise dark week of events, back to you Diane." The reporter disappeared from the screen and was replaced by the nightly news anchor who continued to sing accolades to Jake Church and his band of selfless saints.

"No, no, no, no, no!" the Angel of Death lamented.

There was supposed to be fear and distrust in the government, not joy and trust in mankind's intrinsic goodness. Mankind was intrinsically evil, corrupt, in disunion with the God Almighty. Mankind had put self ahead of God and governmental secularism had usurped Him as head of state. This Jake Church had prolonged the coming of the real Church, His Church. How could this be? How could this happen? The Dark One threw himself onto the floor in twisted mental anguish manifesting itself in body.

"My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" he cried out. Then the answer came to him from Him. Yes it was clear now. He was like Job who had his faith tested with terrible trials. He would have to pray now for forgiveness for his despair. He would also have to pray for patience and guidance as to what to attack next so he could achieve his holy goal.

Oil had crippled this country for long enough, it let rich debauched swine of men lead the country by its tail. These men had styled themselves as gods and for their sin of pride, amongst other more shameful sins, they had to be destroyed. They had allowed lesser faiths to be tolerated while the True Faith was being trampled by false religion and atheism. It allowed subhuman foes of righteousness to take up residence on these holy shores. It put weak men into politics, and weaker men into the clergy. All of them, so self-consumed on political correctness saying everyone was the same beautiful creature in God's eyes, they had been blinded from the truth. Blasphemy is what this was. It put a moron as the head of state, one who was slowly selling away America's greatness. He was turning the Great Nation into the Great Whore. Babylon the Great was no longer in the Middle East, but was here a half world away and it had to be destroyed for its pride and decadence. The Romans and the ancient Greeks didn't know any better because of their beliefs in false gods, but the new Babylon had no such excuse.

It became increasingly more obvious to the Angel of Death the longer he raged. Was not the three headed beast of Revelation what America had become with its three impotent branches of government lying on their backs for the Johns of big business? Health care was intrinsically evil and all those serving it as well. Why else was it possible in a country where even the guiltiest of guilty deserved a lawyer the most innocent of sick did not deserve a doctor? This was evidence that all who worked for the government were evil, even those who worked under the guise of doing good deeds, perhaps those people were even more especially wicked. Those working for the government had already tattooed the number of the beast to their foreheads and everyone else had been struck blind by the false trinket of peace and the middle class lifestyle. Did not the Bible warn the antichrist would come as someone who was in disguise as a charismatic peacemaker? Did the president not want to make one international currency after the so called "collapse" of the housing market? Was not this episode a cleverly engineered means to keep the working man poor and in a state of subservience to the new aristocracy? Did not the leaders of this country want to bring peace to Israel by making a two state solution, legitimizing the false prophet and selling the holy land to infidels? Was not a credit score the literal mark of the Beast, three numbers in sequence which you could neither buy, nor sell, nor work, nor trade without? All of this was forewarned in the book of Revelation. Why couldn't anyone else see? He had to get them to see. The Lord of Lords and God of Gods had chosen him to make them see.

The Angel of Death needed time. Perhaps he could find another Levite willing to strap his sword to his hip and do as God had commanded? The so called media, false prophets, needed to be punished. The oil lines, a poison bearing umbilical cord serving as the Beast's main staple, needed to be severed. He needed to destroy that which is wicked and cast it into the fire, so that which is good could flourish. When the people became afraid enough, they would turn back to the true God, God of our Fathers. Yes, the Dark Angel would bide his time and build his arsenal. He had thought too small before, and had acted in too much haste. He would wait now and allow the government and the depraved masses the illusion of safety, to think their counter measures had worked, thus lulling them into complacency. He would attack the lackeys of the Beast as well by striking them down in their sleep and when they were least suspecting it. Yes, he would remain patient. He would select his targets well and when the time grew ripe, he would strike with fury raining down brimstone and fire.

III

When Libbi returned home after her harrowing ordeal she went straight into the shower to wash off the blood, stink, and filth which encrusted her. She stripped down while the shower water warmed up and set out her towel and put a new head on her razor. When she got in it felt as if heaven itself opened up and was showering her with warmth and comfort. She began rinsing her hair first and then lathered soap into her golden locks. She let it sit there while she grabbed her razor to shave her legs. She ventured the razor a little higher to take care of some stubble elsewhere. She had shaved it once before for an old boyfriend and found she actually preferred it herself that way, so she decided to keep it after ditching the guy. One more quick run under her arms and she set the blade aside. She leaned her head back into the water pouring from the shower head so it wouldn't run down her face. She used some conditioner and then began to work on lathering up her body. She began to rinse and as she felt cleaner and cleaner she began to think more and more of Jake. He was everything Derrick wasn't. Jake was strong, confident, experienced, resourceful, a soldier who had fought for our freedom. She had heard from some women soldiers were better lovers than most men because they went so long between the times they saw women, so when they did they tended to make the most of it...several times. Besides who could resist a man in uniform?

Libbi felt a new wave of heat take her that had nothing to do with the temperature of the water. Water cascaded down her shapely form. Her hands slid from her hair down her neck, and then over her breasts letting each finger on her hands tease her nipples on their way down. She was pleasantly surprised. No one had gotten her this hot and bothered since Joey Porter in the tenth grade. She imagined Jake's hands roaming up and down her body caressing her every curve. She dreamt of partaking his lips. She bit down on her lip to keep back a little moan. She had a very good imagination and he was so very attractive. She had stolen a look at him when he had taken off his shirt to use as a pillow for an injured kid. The way his muscles gleamed with sweat and rippled under the sun was still fresh in her memory. If only he would take her up in those strong arms, that were still somehow so gentle, she could be happy for a long time. When he bent down to tuck the shirt under the kid's head she had a better shot of his butt than when he was standing straight up. It was perfect. All firm lean muscle perfectly chiseled from years of working out. Her heart rate and breath quickened. She imagined him in the shower with her right now also getting clean, but also getting very dirty all the same. She thought of his lips on her body slowly teasing their way down. She bit down harder on her lip to keep her gasps from getting the best of her. She thought of what he would be like as a lover when he entered her, what he would feel like. The tingling warmth spread faster than ever, flooding her body in waves of heat and raw animal passion. She imagined the two of them entwined in passionate lovemaking and what his face would look like in that moment of pure joy. Libbi quivered and moaned along with her imagination of Jake.

"Whoa," Libbi said to herself, "Didn't see that coming." Yeah, she hadn't had anything like that happen before, even when she had been so hot and bothered about Joey Porter. This was something Libbi would have to experience in real life, one way or another, with Jake. She gave herself one final rinse and then got out of the shower feeling refreshed in a variety of ways.

Later on, when Melani woke up from her drunken stupor and subsequent hang over, Libbi was practically bubbling over with stories to tell her best friend. What would she think about what had happened? What would she think when she told her about Jake? What would...

"Whoa there girlie, no coffee equal no talkie. You will wait," Melani told Libbi annoyed at the fact she had woken up to find her head was in fact still attached to her body, no matter how many times it tried to roll away during the night. Her hair was a frazzled mess and it looked like her mouth could have been only slightly moister than the Sahara. Those green eyes of hers, that only last night had been so hungry, they could devour someone independent of the body, were glassier than the finest mirror and about as clouded as a morning fog in London. She didn't even bother to put on pants, wandering around the dorm room like the living dead in a shirt that said "Love to sleep". Her eye shadow and mascara were a blotchy smeared mess around her eyes making Libbi wonder if this was what a hung-over raccoon might look like.

Melani reached for the airtight container in which they kept the whole coffee beans. When she popped the top open, the delicious aroma of Sumatran coffee filled the dorm room, which seemed to perk her up a little bit. Libbi watched as Melani made several unsuccessful attempts to count the scoops going into the coffee grinder. Then Melani visibly steeled herself for the sound of the coffee grinder before pushing the button, the way a child might do when she knows she has to get a shot in order to get the lollipop at the doctor's office. The grimace on Melani's face said she hadn't prepared thoroughly enough for the sound. She finished putting the coffee into the coffee pot and then poured water into the reservoir. She had forgotten to hit the power button, which Libbi normally would have let go to see how long it would take Melani to figure it out, but she wanted to tell her about her morning so she hit the button for Melani and then patiently listened to the sound of coffee brewing.

Melani stumbled her way into the bathroom and started running the cold water. She splashed some of it on her face and then grabbed the glass sitting in the medicine cabinet. Melani filled the glass with the icy cold water and swallowed it down almost as quickly as it came out of the tap. The second glass she used to take some Motrin and to wash down a swig or two from the little pink bottle of Pepto. By the time she had completed this delicate and ornate dance of the galactically hung over, the precious coffee was finally ready. The delicious aroma filled the dorm room with the essence of everything good in this world. It was strong and earthly with a deep flavor. Libbi waited patiently for Melani to pour herself a cup and add her cream and sugar. The first spoonful of sugar missed the mug entirely, but the second one made it in. Even the slight tinkling clinking of the spoon against the sides of the mug seemed to be impossible for Melani to tolerate. Libbi waited for her to take her first sip of this magical life giving fluid as she guided herself cautiously back onto the couch. Melani's constant grimace since waking up melted into a small smile, some of her hangover visibly fleeing from the onslaught of warmth and caffeine.

"Ok girlie, I have coffee so now you may talkie," Melani croaked. The dark circles under her eyes said the Motrin had not quite kicked in yet and the explosions earlier this morning probably had roused a string of curses so foul only a sailor could have been proud of them.

"Great because I have, like, a million things to tell you," Libbi said in a little bit more of a bouncy mood than she had normally.

Libbi started her story with how she had been going to the gas station to pick up some Motrin and Pepto when the explosions went off. She told Melani about her phone call to the police and the dispatcher's outward cowardice. Melani took a moment to point out how caution and cowardice were not in fact synonyms, but Libbi took little notice. Libbi continued with how one man, one great man, had taken control of the situation and organized the chaos into a real rescue effort.

"Mel it was amazing, everyone was so scared and confused and like he was the only one who could keep it together," Libbi said with a school girl's bounce in her voice, "he was so amazing, I can hardly believe it."

"Uh huh," Melani said as she nodded, a half smile on her face. "So what is this god amongst men's name?" Melani asked coyly.

"His name is Jake, Jake Church. He was in the army and everything," Libbi answered not noticing the fishing expedition Melani was on.

"So what does this Jake look like?" Melani asked with a hunter's look rekindled in her eye.

"He is so hot, tall, dark, and handsome. A few inches taller than me with broad shoulders and ooooh he's just so yummy." Libbi said. "I think he might be getting an award for everything he did today too. He's just perfect."

"So did you get Mr. Hot in Church's phone number?" Melani asked with a raised eyebrow. If this guy was as hot as her friend was saying Mel would be very interested in meeting him...or rather him meating her. She wondered if Lib would call dibs on him or if she would mind sharing, not like sharing wasn't anything Melani hadn't done before.

"No," Libbi said. Her shoulders sagged and her lips pouted a little bit at the fact she had been too shy to ask for it. "Maybe if I go to the awards ceremony I can run in to him again." Libbi chewed her bottom lip, hoping for the opportunity.

"Mind if I tag along so I can meet the hero of the hour?" Melani asked. She might have some ulterior motives, but all the same if Lib was interested in this guy then she would have to approve of him for this to be a successful relationship.

"Sure, I think its next Saturday. Wanna help me find something to wear?" Libbi asked with some excitement in her voice.

"What are best friends for girlie!" Melani responded with a bounce. Yup the coffee had kicked in alright.

Dr. Parks practically lived and breathed CNN nowadays. No self respecting liberal would ever watch Fox, the fascist news network, unless they were tied to a chair with their eyelids sown open. All they did was spew right winged propaganda day and night and insight people to be stupid. In his mind Fox didn't even qualify as a news agency anymore because they always had an agenda they were trying to push and didn't mind splicing in old footage to make things look grander than they were.

Dr. Parks reveled in his mornings, especially Friday mornings when the school had given a three day weekend. He could wake up when he wanted and he could eat what he wanted, with all the time he wanted. The breakfast table was his and his alone. Eggs, sausage, and biscuits all littered his plate. All of it was drowned in delicious sausage gravy he had made from scratch, no egg white only heart healthy crap omelets for him. If you didn't live happy, in his mind, then you truly didn't live at all. He also was able to sit and watch the news with his morning cup of coffee and a burning cigarette. No wife to tell him what to do, what to eat, or worse yet what not to eat. Dr Ned Parks was nearing an official state of alcoholism though as every cup of coffee of his needed the obligatory "eye opener". To make things worse he usually had four or five cups of coffee at breakfast, another few at lunch, and then an early evening night cap.

To hell with anyone who would change him, he was in his sixties and set in his ways. Ned Parks didn't need anyone on a daily basis. He didn't want anyone hanging around and telling him what to do just so he could get a roll in the hay once a week if he was lucky and a good boy. When his manly needs needed to be met he had no qualms paying for it. The way he figured it, relationships were just ritualized prostitution anyway. If both parties knew what was to be expected of them going into it then no one would be disappointed, besides the greatest civilizations in history had no issue with it. Rome reveled in it, and heck the Greeks invented the orgy. This was all Dr. Parks needed to believe he was in the right. The United States was just too prudish. Hell, the US was founded by a people so uptight the fucking British kicked them out, if you can imagine it. Plus, Oakland and the South Side of Pittsburgh were full of...opportunities to have a short term relationship. You just had to be careful with yourself, your manhood, and your wallet. He hadn't picked up an undercover cop yet and thought he had a good eye for them. If he wanted to pay for a date, he felt it was his prerogative and no one else's damned business.

Dr. Parks had been married and divorced three different times and he had the best ex-wives in the world, all dead. The first two died a year or two after they were divorced. He guessed it paid off to be interested in bigger women in his younger days as they had died of heart attacks from plaque buildup in their arteries. He found an intense irony in the fact those two women were the biggest pains in the ass when it came to his diet. They told him all the fatty foods he ate for breakfast, the coffee he drank, the booze he drank, and the cigarettes he smoked would send him to an early grave. He in turn told them if they made him give it up he would send them to an early grave. He began to wonder if those types of conversations had led to the downfalls of his marriages. No matter. His last wife he had met in a midlife crisis, she was young, pretty and thin. Why the hell did she want him then? Probably thought he was well off or something. All women were gold diggers at heart anyway at least hookers were honest about it. She had a tight body because of all the aerobics she did and wouldn't eat anything unless it came from some hippy claiming it had lived a long and prosperous life. How all natural wheat and soy sausage could have had a long and prosperous life was beyond Ned's comprehension. No heart attacks would rescue him anytime soon from this ex-nightmare, worse luck. Who knew "'til death do us part" would become a goal? But as things would turn out, he was still on top. The last ex-wife had died on Saturday at the Sunoco that had gone up in smoke.

"No more alimony," Dr. Parks chuckled around a mouthful of sausage. This was the best news CNN had put out in years as far as he was concerned. The fall of the Berlin Wall and collapse of the Soviet Union paled in comparison to this godsend. "I think I'm going to make a little trip and buy myself a date," Ned smiled as he took another drink from his whiskey laden coffee. Yeah, he needed to celebrate and it wasn't like he had any classes to teach today anyway. Some band had once sung "can't buy me love" huh, yeah right. They obviously had never been to Oakland. Just then the news started playing an announcement from the mayor of Pittsburgh so Dr. Parks decided to forgo his foray and listen to the speech.

"Good morning ladies and gentleman," the mayor began. "This past weekend we have suffered attacks of the like that have not been seen on our shores since the events of September eleventh. Now as then, we are searching for the cowardly terrorists who would attack the innocent, and we will find them. We will hunt them down until every last one of them are found and brought to justice."

"Well they certainly won't be making this guy president anytime soon...then again, they did put GW in the White House," Dr. Parks said wistfully. Who would have figured the American people would trust a former coke head to lead the free world? Ned filtered out most of the rest of the blustering from the city mayor and listened for the more pertinent information.

"Under guidance offered me by the Department of Homeland Security anyone purchasing gasoline will have to swipe their Pennsylvania driver's license at the cashiers counter in order to turn on the pumps. This countermeasure will allow us to monitor those coming and going from gas stations and if there is an attack we will be able to know who was there so we can bring them in for questioning. Additionally, all sales of precursors to the explosive HME are to be monitored, purchasing hydrogen peroxide for example will require a person's driver's license to be scanned. You will not be permitted to purchase in excess of one pint of this precursor each month. We feel these counter measures will allow us to provide the people of Pittsburgh with a reasonable degree of security without hindering everyday life. A full listing of these items will be published in the following weeks," the mayor said.

"Is he smoking crack?" Dr. Parks said. "That's an invasion of privacy, not to mention it won't actually accomplish one damn bit of good! Publishing a list of all precursors will also just give people ideas on how to make bombs out of simple everyday items to boot."

"But I would like to take a moment to make an announcement, a joyful announcement," the mayor continued. "Through the darkest hour, when all hope seemed lost, one man stood up in the face of incredible odds, his name is Jake Church," the mayor said.

"How long will they keep milking this man it's almost been a week?" Dr. Parks said lighting another cigarette. The mayor droned on and on before getting to the point.

"Tomorrow on the one week anniversary of his heroics, we will honor Mr. Church here at city hall at eight o'clock. This event will be open to everyone, in the spirit of unity," the mayor droned on for a few more minutes, before finally making his thank yous and goodbyes.

"Well, I think that sounds like the place to be," Dr. Parks said. He finished his eggs, gulped the last bit of his whiskey coffee and then grabbed his keys. Before heading out the door he checked his wallet to make sure he had enough cash to get what he wanted from who he wanted and then left to go buy himself a date.

Demetrius Raines was proud of his high school buddy. Granted, as a cop, he had never been in actual combat, but he had been involved in his fair share of scrapes in the past. He had seen the wounded and the dying before. It was just most of the time they were behind the wheels of cars or from a drive by. What Jake had done was remarkable. Okay, maybe Demetrius was a little jealous of his friend, hell he was being recognized by the city and being given an award. In the few years Demetrius had been on the force, all he had gotten was a couple of attaboys from his superiors. All the same though, he was determined to be happy for Jake.

Everyone seemed to be convinced the worst was over, but Demetrius was far from one of them. He was doing his best to organize a more appropriate response to future attacks other than just blundering in, or leaving people to die until everything looked "secure". All these impotent so called "counter measures" proposed by the state would do, is cause a lot of heartache for truckers needing gas and hair salons needing hydrogen peroxide. None of this would do a damn bit of good keeping another attack from happening. Hell, if this guy were half as smart as he's shown so far he probably had all the raw materials he would ever need already. There had to be a better way.

This line of thinking is what had driven him to set up a meeting with the chief of police, the commissioner, the mayor, and a certain dignitary from the Department of Homeland Security. Demetrius had the answer, his name was Jake Church. The man had spent more years fighting this exact type of battle than any one of these stuffed shirts had ever dreamed of. And heck, if he could ride his friends coat tails to success all the better.

"Mister Mayor, Mister Commissioner, Chief, respected dignitary from the Department of Homeland Security, thank you for meeting with me," said Demetrius.

"Mr. Raines I will be frank with you," the Commissioner said, "The only reason we have agreed to this meeting is because of Mr. Church's insistence you be the one who presents him with his award. So if you would please just get to the point, we would all appreciate it."

Judging by the faces of everyone else at the table before Demetrius, they all felt the same way. He was just some dumb beat cop from the sticks. This would be a tough sell alright.

"Understood gentlemen," Demetrius said. "I believe everyone here would agree we were woefully unprepared for this event and we remain so even now. The counter measures and the controls recently put in place lack the ability to meet any achievable goal," Demetrius waited to see their reactions. What he didn't expect was the severity of the looks of vicious reproach directed his way. He had known when people who couldn't do, taught, but it seemed that those who couldn't even teach went into politics. They were going to protect their asses like accused witches before the Spanish Inquisition. If he was going to get through to them he would have to be very delicate in his word choice so as to diffuse the situation.

"Mr. Raines the very implication this office and these officers are not first and foremost concerned with the public's safety and well being," the mayor paused searching for a way to end his soliloquy, "is uncalled for and reprehensible!" the mayor blustered.

"Gentlemen, let me assure you this is not the case," Demetrius said. His saying that seemed to ease their automatic reaction to be defensive a little. "What I am saying is, our current strategy is incomplete," Demetrius said trying to be diplomatic. "Our current strategy will persuade copy cats to not take the same actions, true. It may even lead to an arrest of a suspect if our man gets sloppy, but I don't think he will. He has shown he is too smart for such common mistakes," Demetrius appraised their looks. Good some of the stuffed shirts only had their heads half way up their asses, the rest probably didn't even realize their Adam's apples were in fact their noses.

"Then what do you propose Mr. Raines?" the representative from Homeland Security asked. He looked like he might be genuinely interested. This boded well because the other so called dignitaries looked shocked out of their self-righteous tight-assed suits. Such an important man thinking a common beat cop might have an insight on the grand scheme of things was something they probably couldn't even fathom, but this expert thought he might. So maybe, just maybe they might actually listen.

"Thank you Sir, what I propose is we form a special unit dedicated to the investigation and prevention of this particular type of crime," Demetrius said.

"One you would head with a promotion no doubt?" said the chief, with a little reproach in his voice.

"Actually no Sir, although I do appreciate your vote of confidence in my abilities," Demetrius said. He knew the chief was patronizing him, but he played it off as if he had not a clue. Sometimes it was better if the big whigs just thought you were a dummy. "Gentlemen I propose we bring in an expert in this type of crime, someone with extensive firsthand experience."

"Mr. Raines, if I recall correctly that's exactly why I called in the Department of Homeland Security," said the mayor pointing to the dignitary.

"Mr. Mayor if I recall correctly I said firsthand experience," Demetrius said. The official from Homeland Security looked to be taking some offense. By the look of his well manicured hands and their apparent lack of calluses, he probably had never spent a day in the field. Before the official or anyone else could interrupt this conversation any further Demetrius continued, "The person I have in mind is none other than Jake Church. He spent four years in both Afghanistan and Iraq and he's seen every IED under the sun."

"Mr. Raines we all agree Mr. Church is a good man and a hero who fought for his country, but what does he know of criminal investigation," said the Homeland Security official again. Man, he really didn't have a clue did he? Demetrius guessed the man's earlier interest was aimed at just placating him rather than genuine interest. Oh well.

"Sir, may I speak freely without offending you?" Demetrius asked.

"Go ahead Mr. Raines," the official said, tenting his fingers. He looked like a school teacher who was humoring a student he felt was of special needs.

"Do you have any idea whatsoever of what happens in a counterinsurgency operation?" Demetrius asked. "This man not only fought against the Taliban head to head on an open battlefield, but he also fought the tough counterinsurgency of Al-Qaeda in Iraq. He was the company intelligence non-commissioned officer. He brought down no less than thirty IED manufacturing and distribution rings in his four years. He hunted down high value targets taking them alive and when needed, killing their body guards. He amassed enough evidence from those busts to convict them for a minimum of twenty years and a maximum of a few life sentences. As a Forward Observer, he was the one who analyzed blast damage, he could tell you what it was that went off, what it was that set it off, and then the other different ways it could have been set off. Not to mention a myriad of ways to prevent them from going off. He once spotted a one hundred fifty five millimeter howitzer round that had been cemented into the curb of the road because the curb looked too good. These are the skills we need, skills we desperately need, in order to find this asshole and to keep more of his little toys from killing people. Unfortunately these are also the skills we desperately lack and have no way of making up for short of asking for outside help."

"You make a decent sell Mr. Raines," the mayor said. "But how would this keep our emergency crews alive any longer? How would he help us find this guy any faster?"

"Mr. Mayor, if Jake is the first on the scene he'll spot the danger, it is as simple as that," Demetrius answered. "The cannon round he spotted, he was over two hundred meters away from at the time. Are you going to tell me anyone who has not had extensive combat experience is going to be able to do the same?"

The mayor nodded before saying, "Mr. Raines if you will excuse us a minute we need to discuss this a little further in private." The commissioner and police chief looked appalled. The homeland security guy looked like a dog that had just had their nose rubbed into the mess they had made on the carpet. Good, maybe somebody would have a little of the common sense that seemed in such short supply nowadays.

"As you wish Mr. Mayor," Demetrius said and he left the room. Behind the door he heard shouting. Yes, this was a good sign indeed. A few minutes later an aide escorted Demetrius back into the room.

"Mr. Raines," the mayor began saying cautiously, "This program will be under strict supervision, and secrecy. We will ask Mr. Church if he is interested and if he is then you will be his second in command. If he accepts we will deputize him and appoint him over you, but if he does anything wrong it's your ass. Do you understand?'

"Understood Mr. Mayor," Demetrius replied. "You won't be sorry."

"I had better not be," the mayor said with the severity of conviction. "Now what do you require in order to get this unit of yours up and running?"

"Sir, I have taken the liberty of outlining a few of those needs here," said Demetrius as he handed a plain manila folder over to the mayor. "This will be subject to change of course at the behest of Mr. Church."

"Mr. Raines...you're not in the habit of doing things in half measures are you?" said the mayor as he looked into the request list. "This will be quite expensive you realize?'

"Yes Sir, however if we do nothing I believe you would agree this will become more expensive," said Demetrius with a pause, "more expensive in both blood and money."

"Very well Mr. Raines, very well," the mayor said resignedly. "You may go, and please remember to be at city hall tomorrow morning at seven thirty to prepare for the ceremony."

"Yes Sir," Demetrius said and then he left the building.

"Giving me an award?" Jake said. He still couldn't believe what he had heard and read about himself since that fateful Saturday morning. His manager at Magoo's offered him a paid week off as a thank you. Apparently his niece had been one of the kids on the bus Jake had helped and because of his prompt efforts, she would live. All things considered though, Jake decided to decline the man's generous offer, besides he made most of his money in tips, and he truly enjoyed his work. There wasn't a lot of thought involved in making drinks, not to mention drunk chicks made for easy pickings after last call if he didn't feel like sleeping alone.

Jake had performed these types of "heroics" a hundred times or more before that Saturday when he had been in combat. Once he even received an ARCOM, Army Commendation Medal, for pulling four of his buddies out of a burning Hummvee which was hit by an RPG. On the other hand, he hadn't even received so much as a "good job Church" for the scores of Afghans and Iraqis he had saved when a suicide bomber detonated himself in a market, or when some other horrible thing cut them down like wheat before the thresher. No one batted an eye for people who didn't look, talk, dress, or pray like they did.

No one sang him accolades for saving that one young woman who was hit by some random piece of metal in a suicide attack. Oh no, he actually had been reprimanded by his superiors for that one, because of the fallout it had wrought. Apparently a few of her family members had felt she had disgraced the family's honor by allowing a man other than her husband to touch her inner thigh. Forget the fact the shrapnel embedded in her thigh had almost severed her femoral artery. To the family, if she had died from Jake not saving her life to spare her honor it would have been the will of Allah. So by saving her he had actually damned her. Had she been a man it would have been the will of God for Jake to be there to save his life though, fucking hypocrites. Her father was the one to throw the first stone as it was his honor she had offended most, her husband threw the second. Apparently those two were without sin. Jake had a flash back of the horribly gruesome and bloody pictures his chain of command had shown him from the stoning. Some things just never left you. Some things you just never forgot. No matter how many army shrinks tried to help you. No matter how many shots of liquor you downed. Some things...

This weekend would be different though, Jake thought as he tried to shake the image of the woman's mangled corpse from his mind. This time it was all Americans he had saved, American civilians to boot. Jake thought this was a double standard if he had ever seen one. Wasn't one person's life just as valuable as another's? Now in less than a few hours he would stand out before the entire city of Pittsburgh and be hailed a hero to the like of Julius Caesar returning from conquest, or perhaps more appropriately Florence Nightingale.

"Life sure has a funny way with things," Jake muttered under his breath. He poured a shot for himself. Maybe he could drown away the images his memory had dusted off after all. It was worth a try anyway, wasn't it?

"What's that Heeero?" said one of the regulars sitting on a wobbling on a stool. Or perhaps the stool was just fine and the man was just too toasted to sit still, who could tell?

"Oh nothing Mr. Jones, just bullshitting a little bit," Jake said. He threw back the shot and felt the fiery warmth of the tequila run down his throat and then explode in his stomach. It took his mind off of things for awhile so he could get back to the business at hand. "Would you like a refill on that Yuengling?" Jake asked of Mr. Jones. Jake had missed Yuengling Lager when he moved away from the 'Burgh, but now he could have it every day so it lost some of its luster.

"Don't mind if I do Heeero," Mr. Jones said. Ever since Jake had been on the news few people used his real name anymore. Mr. Jones seemed to revel in using the label Jake had been given in a way only a lush could.

"Alright Sir," Jake said taking a cold glass out of the freezer he kept for the regulars. He pulled the handle on the tap and the cold, frothy, brown lager began to fill the ice encrusted glass. "That'll be three fifty Mr. Jones," Jake said, "and please stop calling me that, I only did what anyone else would have done in my position." Jake handed the frosty frothy glass across the counter to its eager recipient.

"Hey whatever you say Hee...uh Jake," said Mr. Jones catching himself.

Mr. Jones lifted his glass up in salute to Jake and then took a pull from it. Mr. Jones then took out a pack of Marlboro lights, tapped the box against the counter and pulled out two cigarettes. His eyes were glassy and his white hair was a mess. Life and the recession had hit him hard, he had been a steelworker until the early 1980's, but after the mills went bust he had become a trucker. His branch got shut down when gas prices went through the roof and the recession closed everyone's wallets. Mr. Jones seemed to have little luck in regard to steady work, so he began working as a janitor at UPMC Passavant Hospital. It did not pay a lot, but Mr. Jones never complained. He was smart with his money, being a drunk aside, so he was able to stay in his apartment. No one seemed to know if he had any family and he never spoke of any.

"One thing I love about Pittsburgh is it's the one of the few places left that a man living in this free country can have a smoke at the bar as God intended." He lit both cigarettes and then handed one to Jake.

"Thanks Mr. Jones," said Jake as he took the cigarette.

"Call me Hal, Jake," said Mr. Jones. "You've more than earned the right to address me by my first name. That's not just because of what you did last week either, you are a damn decent and kind man and you have never judged me."

"Thanks again Hal," Jake said as he took a draw from the cigarette. "I guess I just still can't believe I'm getting a damn award tomorrow," said Jake exhaling smoke as he spoke.

"You know what they say Jakey, life is often times stranger than fiction," said Mr. Jones.

Around that time two very attractive girls walked into the bar. They were the type of women who when they entered a room suddenly there was a silence as people looked in awe at their beauty. One was a redhead with the greenest eyes Jake had ever seen, the other looked vaguely familiar. She was a pretty blonde with blue eyes... Of course! That was the girl who had helped him during the second attack...it was Libbi something or other.

"Jake, is that you?" Libbi said with excitement in her voice.

"Libbi, is it?" Jake said with a wink. Judging by the large smile she returned to him he had guessed right and she looked happy to see him. Perhaps tonight wouldn't be so rough after all.

"Yeah, it's so good to see you. I didn't know you worked here," Libbi said. Libbi leaned over the bar to give Jake a hug. Jake thanked the Almighty for that because she was wearing a very low cut shirt. The degree with which she had to lean over the bar allowed him a quick check down her blouse, which was very nice indeed. Just then her friend nudged her. "Oh, I'm sorry this is uh my friend Melani Prescott. Mel this is Jake."

Melani stuck out her hand and said, "Hey there Jake, I've heard so many wonderful things about you." She gave him a wink as if to let Jake in on something she knew and he didn't.

"Melani shut up!" Libbi exclaimed.

Already she was turning a shade of red that was quickly spreading over her face. Yup, Jake had it right alright there was something there. Melani gave Jake a quick wink. Then curiously enough, she flashed him a come and get me grin. Jake began to think this could be a very interesting night indeed. Both of the girls were dressed to impress, it was Friday night after all. Spring had come to Pittsburgh which meant both of them were scantily clad. The skirts they were wearing were short enough they could probably be best classified as headbands, but they sure as hell could pull it off. Asses like those were hard to keep secret for very long after all.

"Oh really now, you don't say?" Jake said, it was his turn to flirt a little now, "and what might those things be ladies?" Jake gave them a wink and a smile.

Before Melani could put Libbi into a deeper state of embarrassment she spoke up. "Just that what you did last weekend was amazing and you totally deserve everything they are gunna give you tomorrow," Libbi said as she shot Melani a look. That look seemed to dare her to say anything more. Melani backed off deciding it would be best to leave it at that.

"So soldier, you got yourself a Mrs. Hero?" Melani asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Nah, just me," Jake responded. "No wife, no girlfriend."

Libbi visibly perked up at that welcomed news. Jake took notice of it and the other things she had that were exceptionally perky. She was a fine looking girl indeed, so was her friend for that matter.

"Seriously, I thought someone as great as you would certainly be off the market," Libbi said. Immediately after saying it Libbi realized she had probably said too much.

"Yeah, seriously," Jake said with a smile, "So what can I get for you two?"

"How 'bout your number there, handsome?" Melani said smiling back as she leaned on the bar.

"Well, uh, you sure get to the point in a hurry don't ya?" Jake said a little surprised by her forwardness. At the same time her forwardness did a little to peak his curiosity.

"I might get to the point in a hurry, but most other things I like to take my time with," Melani said. She looked at him hungrily and ran her tongue over her lips. Those green eyes seemed to catch hold of him and not let go. They reminded him of a tiger's eyes as it was checking out its prey. Jake didn't know if he liked that. He was used to being the hunter, not the hunted. All the same though, he thought he could get used to it.

"We'll have a couple of Yuenglings," Libbi said, quickly pulling Melani away from the handsome bartender hero. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" Libbi asked in an angry whisper to Melani.

"What?" Melani said. "It's not like you were ready to ask him for his number, and he's hot. If you're too afraid to make a move then I sure as hell will." Melani looked defiantly at her friend and now would-be competition. "Plus it's not like we're in high school anymore and you can just call dibs."

"Fine," Libbi retorted, "If he wants you then he wants you, but if he wants me you back off, deal?"

Melani considered the ultimatum and then smiled. "What's to say we can't share him?" Melani said with a raised eyebrow. "Besides we don't even know if he's interested yet. He hasn't given us his number or agreed to anything. Maybe as a package deal we can get his package, deal?"

"You're crazy you know that?" Libbi said with a chuckle, "and a little bit of a slut." Melani was sent into a chorus of laughter herself. Libbi hadn't even considered the idea of a threesome before, heck she had never had one suggested to her. Something about it though made her a little bolder and sure of herself.

"So what if I am, girlie, so what if I am," Melani said. They both started into hysterical laughter soon to be interrupted.

"Your drinks ladies," Jake said. He wondered what they could have been talking about that made them laugh so much.

"Thanks handsome," Melani said, "and how's that number coming?"

"Yeah, we would be even more interested in that than the drinks," Libbi said. She pouted her lips and leaned over the bar, this time intentionally exposing her cleavage. Melani quickly followed suit.

Jake had imagined a scenario like this since he first hit puberty. He never thought it would happen in a million years, now it was staring him in the face...literally. Jake had never been caught so far off guard before in his life. "Well," Jake swallowed, "You two do make it hard to say no don't ya." Jake scrawled his number on a bar napkin and handed it over. "Here you go ladies." Whatever they had talked about, it seemed to have transformed Libbi from sweet and shy into a predator.

"Thanks," Libbi said as she reached for the number. Libbi picked it up and then made it disappear into her plentiful cleavage while never taking her eyes off of Jake's. They seemed to possess him in a blue ocean of excitement and wonder. He wouldn't mind one bit being marooned there, not one bit.

"And what about me handsome, where's my number? I did ask first," said Melani. She made puppy dog eyes at Jake pouting her lower lip. Jake had never seen such a forward and flirtatious woman before in his life. Her act of flirtatious sadness drew him in. Jake reached for another napkin to write his number on again.

Libbi leaned over just then to her friend and whispered something in her ear. Jake couldn't hear what she told her, but Melani perked up and said, "Well, it looks like my friend might just include me on any calls we make."

Jake swallowed hard and then sputtered, "Plenty to go around ladies, plenty to go around. So I get off here around two in the morning, do you want to give me your number so I can give you a call and maybe we can...get together?" Jake said, hoping he didn't sound too enticed.

"We'll call you Jake, don't you worry," said Libbi patting him on the arm. Oh yeah, they had him alright, he was putty in their hands and they knew it. They had played their cards right and he was at their mercy.

"No worries here ladies," Jake said with a smile. He realized he had fallen into their trap, but he didn't care. "You know about me getting an award tomorrow, right?" he said waiting for their heads to nod. He picked up a glass and began wiping it down in a classic bartender stalling move. He hoped by doing so it would make him look more casual, however he had little success. "Well, I can bring a couple guests with me and since my parents live in Florida now and can't make it up, I was wondering if you like to come?"

"What time do you want us?" Melani said. She left the question opened to interpretation on purpose to keep Jake off guard. She leaned across the bar again arching her back, green eyes gleaming. If Jake didn't know better he thought she might be getting ready to pounce.

Jake saw the ploy and sidestepped it saying, "The ceremony begins at eight, they want me there at seven thirty so if you would like I could come by your place and pick you up." The girls looked to each other and then Libbi smiled.

"Alright," Libbi said sliding over a small piece of paper, "This is our address and my phone number, give me a call and we can go together. It is always better that way isn't it?"

The sexual innuendos were flowing more freely here than the beer coming out of the taps. Jake felt his face flush and had to suppress a smile by biting his lip. "Alright, I'll give you ladies a call in the morning," Jake said and went back to serving the other customers.

Libbi and Melani took their drinks from the bar and headed to the outdoor deck upstairs. They drew stares as they moved through the place as they commonly did when they went out together. Also as they commonly did, they ignored the stares and leers and continued to flaunt on their way enjoying every tease.

"Well I think that went well," Melani said. "We have him where we want him, and let me tell you, he wants us." She chuckled, she loved this part of the game, the hunt always thrilled her more than the act. Although she thought the act with this one might indeed be worth savoring and remembering. Hell, if it did work out to be a threesome those were always memorable even if who was in them was a little lackluster. Still though, she had a feeling if this one went off the way she wanted it to...

"We'll see," said Libbi, "I think we should go and come back right after last call, ya know, and bring him back."

"Well, well, well, who's the slut now?" said Melani with a sweet mocking chuckle. "Yeah, I think that sounds like a plan, but if he wants us both or only me are you ok with that?" Melani asked.

Libbi considered things and then said, "Well, like you said if he wants just you he wants just you. If he wants just me though, are you ok with that?"

"Way to side step the question of the threesome," Melani laughed. "Seriously though, if he wants one, I'm down," she paused and then gave a half smile, "Take that as you will, and if he only wants you then its fine with me." It was anything but ok to Melani, but she had a good feeling if she said anything to the contrary she might blow the whole deal and lose out on a good time. For the first time she began to eye Libbi in a different light. She looked her friend up and down with the eyes some of the guys in the bar must have given them. Oh yeah, this night could be memorable indeed.

"Okay," Libbi said and then paused to consider, "If he wants the threesome...we'll cross that bridge when we get there, but we did kinda offer it to him, didn't we?" Melani nodded. "Ok, then if he's up for to the challenge and can pull it off, then I'm down too." The only thing Libbi knew of threesomes were the raunchy stories Melani had told her about her various conquests. They did sound like a lot of fun too. She looked Melani up and down without drawing too much attention. Yeah, she could see what guys saw in her, she was beautifully formed and passionate in all things she did. Why not?

Jake still couldn't believe what had just happened. Two amazingly hot women had just thrown themselves at him and offered him a threesome. Yet they somehow managed to not commit and to twist him back to when he was a sixteen year old kid trying to cop his first feel in the back seat of his dad's car with Ashley Pickens. He was thrilled, frightened, and aroused all at the same time. He was still dwelling on his possible good fortune when having to work broke into his fantasy world.

"Hey there Jakey, who were they?" said Hal Jones. "Damn cute, they is."

"You got that right Hal," Jake said as he poured himself and Mr. Jones another shot of tequila. "This one's on me."

"Why, thank you kindly Jake," Hal Jones said.

"Here's to strong drinks, hot women, and good fortune," Jake toasted.

"Amen," said Hal Jones. At that, the two of them poured down the shots.

The night wore on at the bar. The owner hired a Sublime cover band to play live that evening. They didn't do too badly, but messed up the song "What I Got" so horrifically it actually hurt Jake to listen. Orders flew across the bar, and the money, tips, and drinks flew back. Apparently word had gotten out this week that the "Hero of Hampton" worked here as a bartender. Everyone seemed eager to meet Jake in his natural habitat and get him a drink. Had he accepted half of the offers, he would have probably had alcohol poisoning in about thirty minutes. The other type of offers were flying wildly too. The ones from the men he could have gone without, but most of the girls were really attractive. He just couldn't seem get Libbi out of his head. Granted when he thought of Libbi, that green eyed Melani also was there, but what was the point of fantasizing if you couldn't go all the way? Melani intrigued him in a way no other girl had been able to yet, she had flipped the tables on him. He guessed it was true that women with red hair usually had an equally fiery disposition. Time went quicker when you were busy. When Jake looked up he realized the time.

"Last call, last call for alcohol!" Jake shouted to the bar. He hadn't seen this many people in one bar since he got out of basic at Fort Sill. This big of a crowd at last call was unheard of even for those bars with a diehard crowd of lushes. The last rush on the bar was all Jake could do to keep up. People thanked him for their drinks, and then thanked him for his service, and finally for his actions last week. He thanked them in turn for their kindness and took their tips. He didn't know exactly why, but he turned down quite a few propositions as well, ones promising just as much if not more than the ones Libbi and Melani had offered. "Why did I just do that?" Jake thought to himself. Were the possibilities of those two girls, or even one of them, worth turning down the sure things he could have had? Jake had to think they were. There was just something about them that seemed special.

The last patrons had left the bar, more than a couple of the girls he had turned down were suggesting to each other that he must be gay to turn them down. Some of the more effeminate men were arguing to the contrary as he had turned them down as well. Both groups were not quite as kind as they had been when speaking to him before he had rejected their advances, but who cared. Others were downright mean hurling insults as they left. Jake had receive a thousand and one ass chewing's in his day as an enlisted man by people far more important and far more foul than them, so he shrugged it off. Water off a duck's back. People were fickle creatures after all.

The place was a mess. Spilled beer, liquor, and mixed drinks left the surface of the bar looking more like an alcoholic swamp or lake rather than a place where people had sat and drank. Bits of food, French fries, popcorn, and other unidentifiable semi-solids sat like grotesque melting islands in this river of liquor. The ground had napkins, cigarette butts, and straws strewn as far as the eye could see. The air was still musty with the damp, stale smell of beer mixed with that of stale smoke. Yup this had been a good night alright, a good night and a headache of a cleanup.

Jake had seen such messes in barracks halls and after dining-ins when he was in the service, so this didn't faze him much. He was methodical in his cleaning, robotic in fact. Everyone who had served in the military should be able to put on their work resumes "extensive janitorial experience" as far as he was concerned. Other co-workers were bitching and moaning about having to cleanup without making much headway. When would they learn if they just put their head down and drove on things would be over faster? Jake had just finished his area of responsibility and was gathering up his things to go home when the front door opened.

"Sorry we're closed," Jake said automatically without glancing up.

"How many times do we have to say it handsome, we aren't actually all that interested in the drinks?"

Jake looked up and saw Melani and Libbi standing at the front door. His heart skipped a beat and he was at a total loss for words for a moment. He blinked to make sure they were actually there and that he hadn't partaken of too many of the patrons offers for drinks. They were there all right. One was the tall blonde curvaceous playmate, the other the shorter red headed firecracker with green eyes, both of them sexy as hell. Jake knew then he had done the right thing in turning down those other girls.

"We thought maybe since you were off here, you could come with us." Melani said. The glint in her eye told Jake she could have meant that innocently enough, or that she had in fact intended the innuendo.

"Uh...yeah, yeah sure, just let me punch out," Jake stammered. He went into the back and clocked out. While doing so he took a moment to thank God for the bounty he was about to receive. Jake couldn't remember the last time his heart had tried to pound out of his chest like this. Maybe it had a couple of times in combat when he had nearly been shot or blown up, but he didn't think so. Maybe it had pounded like this that summer night when he had lost his virginity, but again he didn't think so, this was different and these girls were special. Why they were special Jake still had not a clue, but special they were. Jake came back out to the main restaurant/bar area and saw they were in fact still standing there, looking as hot as ever. "Could this be a dream?" Jake kept asking himself. If it was, he hoped like hell he wouldn't wake up for the next couple of hours.

"Where to?" Jake asked as nonchalantly as he could muster. He had his keys in hand and was leading them to his Ford Explorer. He felt the keys shaking. The more he tried to will his hand to stop shaking, the more it did though. For the life of him he couldn't figure out why he was so worked up over these two. Granted they had amazing bodies and their flirtatious dispositions were intriguing, but he didn't think that could be all. He was thankful he had just swept out and washed the Explorer, because for the first time since he had left the army, it would have passengers. Passengers he desperately wanted to give a ride to and hopefully get a ride in return.

"Well Mel I don't know about you, but I think we should save our hero a trip in the morning and just have him come home with us. What do you think?" Libbi asked.

"That's the best idea you've had all night girlie," Melani said. She ran her tongue over her lips suggestively and then grabbed her friend's perfectly rounded ass.

"Hey," Libbi sighed, "Not right now, first we get back to our place."

Jake let out a gasp and dropped his keys. He swore at himself for the very uncool move he just pulled. When he bent over to pick up his keys he thought he heard one of the girls make a sound you only would typically hear in a strip joint or when you had eaten something so wonderful you just had to moan. Maybe dropping his keys wasn't such a bad move after all. He opened the driver's door and hit the unlock button. Suddenly a thought occurred to him which frightened him, "Who exactly should I open the front door to, and who should I open the back door to?" If he got that one wrong he might offend one of them and ruin his chances. Before he could fret about it too long they decided for him. They must have foreseen this possibility because before he could open any door, Melani opened the back door and they both climbed in.

"At the risk of sounding like a broken record ladies, where to?" Jake said.

"We have a dorm room on La Roche College campus, we'll go there," Libbi said. Melani started kissing Libbi's neck. Libbi let out a soft moan that ignited a fire deep inside Jake and spurred on Melani further.

"Right, ok," Jake stammered. It took all of his will power to take his eyes off of the scene in his back seat. He was sure that was why they were doing it, but hell why look a gift horse in the mouth. Before long the two of them were kissing each other deeply and making sounds Jake had only heard of in a certain type of movie to date.

Jake pulled into the parking lot he thought was right out in front of their dorm. As it turned out, where he parked happened to be on the other side of campus. That was ok though, all it meant was he got to parade around campus with the two most attractive women on the face of the planet. They flanked him on either side so he could slide his arms around their waists. Yeah, he wouldn't mind this walk one bit. They made more flirtatious small talk as they walked along. They let his hands roam up and down their curves freely moving from the dip of their hips to the swells of their breasts and down to their firm rounded butts. He enjoyed this walk just fine.

At a distance, Jake could see the figure of another man standing a little way out in front of the dorm. Judging from his shadowy form, he didn't look all that intimidating. This was the suburbs after all so what was the worst thing he could be doing, getting stoned? He felt both of the girls tense up, which wasn't a good sign. They either knew him or he knew them, and the girls were afraid. This wasn't an emotion he thought these girls possessed. It had been awhile since he had had to fight for a woman, but he could if he had to.

"Libbi who the fuck is this!" screamed the man half in shadow pointing to Jake. He had the face that someone could see one moment and forget the next. Blond hair and from what Jake could make out blue eyes. This guy was so livid you could actually see him shaking with rage. Was this one of their boyfriends? Could it be a fiancée or husband?

"She told you to leave her the fuck alone Derrick!" Melani yelled at him.

"Stay out of it, Slut!" Derrick yelled back. Derrick stepped out of the darkness menacingly toward Melani his voice quivering with rage. Jake matched him in kind taking two steps forward to meet him away from the girls. There Jake stood between them and him. "I said who the fuck is this!" Derrick yelled again, still pointing to the now much closer Jake Church.

"You owe these two ladies an apology," Jake said before either girl could answer. The tone of voice he used here he hadn't used since speaking to an insubordinate private who had dared defy him. Jake's dark eyes locked in on this clearly inferior man's eyes challenging him. Jake felt himself puff up, his chest swelled and his fists became like rocks. If this guy wanted to go after one of the girls, then he would have to go through Jake first and if he wanted a fight, then Jake would give him one. "You'd better make it quick, and you'd best stop cussing around the women." Jake added. He looked down on this man both physically and from a stand point of chivalry. You just down swear at or around women, and you do not threaten them in any way.

"Who, the fuck, do you think you are!" Derrick yelled at him. His eyes were ablaze with fury and jealousy. Apparently the only descriptive word this individual possessed was the word fuck. How sad.

"My name is Jake Church. And I don't give a damn who you are, but you owe these two ladies an apology," Jake said again.

Jake's voice was level and almost calm if not for the hint of authority and command presence his tone held. His old First Sergeant would have been proud. Junior enlisted personnel would have picked up on the tone immediately and begged for forgiveness, run away, or at least backed down. They would have had the common sense to realize they were in the presence of a better man. This guy seemed a little denser than your average infantry Joe though. Perhaps Jake would have to teach him a lesson in manners.

"Fuck them and fuck you!" Derrick screamed. Blind rage was in his voice, the type that was difficult to predict and was not easily diffused. This probably would end up in a fight after all.

"No thanks to your second offer and as for the first, you don't have to worry about them fucking you because they are clearly not interested," Jake took pleasure in saying that. Grinding the point home to this stupid piss ant of a human being was a great pleasure indeed. This Derrick would have had to understand the unsaid meaning that Jake was going to sleep with them, both of them.

"I'm gunna fucking kill you!" Derrick yelled at Jake. Oh yes the dense boy understood alright. He began to lunge at Jake but stopped abruptly when he saw Jake's right hand twitch.

Without so much as a word or losing eye contact Jake made a knife appear as if out of thin air. Then he flipped it around and held it by the blade and made as if to hand it to Derrick before saying, "Many Iraqis and Afghanis have tried, but you're more than welcome to give it a shot if you think you are up to the challenge." That offer appeared to have its intended effect. Derrick's eyes got wide for a moment involuntarily. He broke eye contact. "Good," Jake thought to himself, "He knows who has the big dick in this jungle." Derrick then turned his attention back to the girls behind Jake.

"You fucking sluts you..."

Before Derrick could finish his insult to the girls, Jake punched him in the jaw. The lightening speed with which it occurred defied physics. As quickly as Jake's left fist had struck, it was returned to its original position at Jake's side. Derrick collapsed to the ground dazed. Clearly this fool had never been in a fight before, or had to suffer any kind of pain. Otherwise that jab would have only been the opening volley in a fight, not the last word. Jake stepped toward Derrick who was cradling his wounded jaw eyes were bulging from the quickness of the strike.

"As I said before, I believe you owe these two ladies an apology and you will apologize because I will not repeat myself a fourth time," Jake said towering over his fallen adversary. His voice more commanding and threatening than before. Now that Jake had seen the stuff this Derrick was made of, he could take the proverbial ball and run with it.

"Jake, its ok just let it go. He's learned his lesson and won't bother us anymore," Libbi said. Her blue eyes looked up into his, how could he say no? She had the eyes of an angel that could calm even the most wild of beasts.

"Isn't that right, Derrick?" Libbi's voice changed as she shouted down at the fallen man with a black and blue splotch already forming on his right jaw bone. Derrick didn't answer. He just rubbed his jaw, water welling in his eyes.

"Alright ladies, if you feel your honor has been rightly defended then I will honor your wishes," Jake said. He enjoyed the chance to be chivalrous and truly believed if dueling were still legal more people would be polite and careful of what they said.

Libbi and Melani smiled up at him as he led them around the sulking Derrick, still rubbing his wounds. Whatever little pride Derrick might have had was completely knocked out of him. Jake never looked back, and neither did Libbi or Melani. Jake knew from combat experience how to sense someone creeping up behind him. It would be no problem to detect an amateur. No foot falls came from behind, although he thought he could hear a whimpering cry. Jake didn't care, Derrick had stepped out of line and Jake had put him back in his place. Jake just hoped this incident hadn't killed the mood and his chances of scoring tonight.

Jake's blatant display of masculinity and protectiveness worked as the world's best aphrodisiac. "He has that raw power of personality, he had the power to protect the people, but now he had used his powers just for me," Libbi thought to herself. She felt light and at the same time so very safe and secure. Derrick would never trouble her or Melani again and if he did then Jake would make him sorry. Had Jake really meant it when he had offered Derrick a knife to fight him, or was that just his supreme sexy confidence manifesting itself in action? Libbi didn't care. She wanted him and she wanted him now. Heat rushed in waves over her, passion flooded her veins and she felt her pulse quicken. Everything she had imagined doing with Jake was about to come true, even if Melani hadn't been there in her fantasy beforehand.

Melani still couldn't believe a man had just stood up for her honor. Sure other guys had defended her as their territory from other guys they saw as competition, but that wasn't the same thing at all. Those times it was all about them and their insecurities. As a matter of fact, every time it had happened in the past Melani had been so turned off by the episode she had dismissed both suitors. This time was different though, Jake was different. Jake had meant it when he asked her if her honor was satisfied and then took the extra step of honoring her wishes. No one had ever even asked her opinion, let alone honored her wishes. Melani had become so accustomed to just being used she didn't even think she could have any honor left to defend. Her only defense to date was to be the one who used somebody else. As long as she was in control, it was okay. No one was using her, she was using them. In the five minute span of what had happened right outside the dorm room though, everything she had known fell apart. She was emotionally vulnerable to Jake and grateful on a level she didn't think she had in her.

Whatever games she had played to win the upper hand with Jake were moot. Melani was his. He had shown her more love in the form of respect and chivalry than any other of her lovers, or even a good portion of her family, ever had. Now Melani didn't just want him for a conquest, now Melani wanted to give herself to him. She wanted to do for him that which she had never done for any other man. She would give herself body and soul. Tonight was going to be all about him and if he ever wanted her again, she would be waiting. She didn't think such a seemingly small act could mean so much, but it did and she was his until he didn't want her anymore and maybe even afterwards.

Jake wasn't sure exactly what was going on right now. Libbi seemed to suddenly transform into the predator hungrily waiting to devour him while Melani's disposition had softened, still intense but something was different. The look in her eye's still had a gleam, but they seemed to be deeper now. It was almost as if Melani had pulled back a curtain to her soul and for once Jake could see into it. It held a lot of pain, but it also held gratitude. What the pain was, he couldn't be sure. The gratitude on the other hand he assumed he had something to do with. Before he had the opportunity to think further on it Melani pulled his face down to hers and kissed him. Her lips were soft and hot, her tongue played with his. It was a type of kiss he wasn't used to, something with an emotional depth. It was definitely not what he expected from his encounter with her earlier at the bar. When they broke their kiss, she looked up into him, not at him, but really into him. "What was going on here?" Jake thought.

Libbi turned Jake's head toward her and then kissed him as well. Her kiss had the fiery passion of the moment he had expected from Melani. The depth of this kiss was in a physical sense. When their kiss broke, Jake looked into Libbi's eyes. Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement and animalistic arousal. "What was going on here?" Jake thought again. "Could he have misjudged these two girls so badly when they first met? Or had that little encounter with that impotent prick outside the dorm have had an unforeseen effect on everyone?" Before he had a chance to think on it further the girls began to undress each other. They had Jake's full and undivided attention from that point on.

Melani knew from past experience what guys fantasized about and what they wanted to see when they had two girls. She was not a lesbian or really even all that bisexual, but she could appreciate the attractiveness of her friend and she wanted to make sure Jake got everything a man of his caliber deserved. Tonight was all about him after all. She undressed Libbi slowly to make a show for Jake and caressed her friend while doing so. Her mouth closed around one of Libbi's perky nipples on her way down to her panties. Libbi quivered and moaned in response. Melani continued down her friend's stomach and to her panties. She took them off with her teeth and then went back up to her inner thigh with her tongue. She stopped and kissed her there awhile before returning to Libbi's mouth for another kiss.

By the way Libbi kissed her back Melani could tell she was enjoying her first threesome, which was good. Libbi did her best to return the favor to Melani while she undressed her. All in all Melani thought Libbi could have done a little better, but she made enough of a fuss by moaning to make both Libbi and Jake think she had done a job better than anyone else ever had. By the look on Jake's face he was enjoying the show too, which was even better. By the way he kissed her she could tell he wasn't going to be one of those guys who were just out for themselves. He was going to make sure each of them felt as though they were the only one. Could he have been more perfect? His hands were gentle as were his arms and eyes. Melani had never encountered this quality in another lover. Could someone make love to another while they were sharing someone? Melani knelt down before him while he kissed Libbi. Melani was determined to show him how much he meant to her, even if he wasn't aware of it until later.

Libbi had thought a threesome might be awkward. Granted she had seen Mel naked before, when you lived with someone things like that happened, but she didn't know how she would react to being sexual with her friend. She was pleasantly surprised that her friend's caresses and kisses had only excited her further, tonight would be a memorable one. Libbi did her best to return the favors her friend was showing her and judging by the sounds Melani was generating, they were well received. Melani's nipples were a shade of pink that was only slightly darker than the porcelain color of the breasts which gave them rise. Libbi teased Melani's nipples with her tongue until they became erect. At the same time she let her hand slide down inside Melani's panties. She could feel her friend becoming more excited and then she allowed herself to do something she would have never imagined doing until Melani had done it for her. The kiss afterward with Melani was sweet and strong, Libbi felt as though she should have tried this with her before. When they were both naked and had given quite the show to Jake they turned their attentions to him. While she kissed Jake, Melani was doing the same elsewhere. Judging by how Jake was reacting he was thoroughly enjoying himself.

When Libbi felt someone playing with her as well she at first thought it was Jake, but soon realized his hands were on either side of her face. She had expected Jake to do as most men did that had been with her and grope her immediately. She had the type of breasts everyone, male and female alike, took notice of. The fact he hadn't groped her yet somehow made it seem like he appreciated her more. He was trying not to take advantage of her beautiful form and was trying to make her feel appreciated. She hadn't expected to like this as much as she did and was somehow thrilled even more by that fact. Libbi didn't think there was another time before, and didn't think there would be another time after, she would have this much fun. That is unless they decided to do this again.

Jake had heard of situations like this happening to other guys, but never in a million years had he thought he would be lucky enough to be part of one. The entire time the experience was not only filled with the animal passion he had expected, but also he got the feeling there was an emotional undertone coming from Melani.

When it was over awhile later the three of them lay in bed together. Melani was to his right asleep with her head on his chest and Libbi was on his left, also asleep with her head on his chest. Jake still couldn't believe what had just happened. He wasn't eighteen anymore, but he thought he had done well by them, a couple of times. He smiled at the memory fresh in his mind of the three of them. Sweet sweat still gilded their bodies as it had when they were together. It was everything he could have imagined and more. He stole a look down at the two sleeping goddesses in his arms still naked. Jake smiled thinking he didn't even care he would have to be up in two hours to get to city hall. Life was good.

IV

The Angel of Death had been in almost constant prayer and fasting since his last attack went awry. Christ had gone for forty days and nights with neither food nor drink when he went into the desert. While the Dark Angel was strong of spirit, he was weak of body when it came to water, of which he allowed himself a single cup per day. He sat in his darkened sanctuary, the only light coming from the large flickering candles spread around him. He knelt on a towel now as the first couple of days had caused his knees to bleed from the pressure. The intense physical suffering he felt paled in comparison to his all consuming spiritual suffering.

In front of him lay his alter. Upon the alter lay what he felt were the most important and holy items at his disposal. In the center of his alter lay the Holy Bible, the Koran, and the Torah, much worn were the book's pages, especially those pages of the Old Testament. To the right of his holy of holies was a copy of the Turner Diaries. This was a well inspired book and because it was of the nature of rebellion to tyrants it was inherently holy. What it lacked though was true divine inspiration, which was why it was a lesser book. It was also why Timothy McVeigh had only been partly successful in Oklahoma. He was not acting on God's behalf. He had secularism in his heart, thus God denied him true success and punished him for it. To the left of the holy of holies were all he had gathered of the teachings and occurrences from Waco, Texas. Here they had things right, divine inspiration and rebellion to the tyrannical government. However their leader was lead astray into thinking he was God. So for this sin God sent a purifying fire upon the Branch Dividians to blot out their heresy. The Angel of Death had it right this time. He knew he was only a servant to His will. Because of this he also knew He would grant him victory where others had only known punishment and defeat.

The Angel of Death continued to pray as he clenched his jaw and gnashed his teeth. His sin of despair was still before him, and the worst of all sins lay beyond that, the sin of doubt. His jaws ached, his knees continued to bleed, and what little water he still had in his system came out as sweat upon his forehead. Then, through the pain and suffering came clarity. It was true he was being tested as Job. However that was not all, what he had done, was anger the Lord. What had angered Him was the Dark Angel's intentional targeting of the children who were too young to know sin. Yes, the Lord spoke with great clarity to him now. While it was true the Angel of Death had sent the bastards and the unbaptized to their rightful place, he also had taken the good. Older school children, however, knew sin and they would have become indoctrinated against the Lord. Those of this age group could not be saved and therefore it was ok to kill them by the score. The young had to be saved though, not just from righteous judgment, but also from the evil indoctrinations of this corrupt government. If he intentionally targeted them he would be punished by Him, but if they got caught up unintentionally it would be ok. How could he have been so blind to His will?

The Angel of Death arose from his kneeling position in front of his alter and kissed the three holy works and the two lesser works. Dried blood clung to his knees. As he rose the scabs tore free and he began to bleed freely again, but it didn't matter. The Lord had answered his prayers, accepted his repentance, and had given him his task. His will had blessed the Angel of Death's new venture. While the entire city was pulling security for the false hero he would be able to work freely in daylight without fear of being discovered by the authorities. He would begin soon and then he would kill the false hero who had dared to impede His work. Once this was accomplished everything else would fall into place and everyone else would fall into chaos.

"Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done," said the Angel of Death. He left the room and gathered his implements of holy war in order to impose that will upon the debauched masses and the corrupt government.

Jake guessed this was the first time in a long time most Pittsburghers had seen a clock that read eight in the morning on a Saturday. Most people looked as though they had just rolled out of bed and were walking like the undead, others were visibly hung-over. The comparison to the undead was particularly humorous in those cases because they were seeking any shade they could find to keep the dawn of a new day off of them. Jake chuckled and pointed it out to his lady friends. They laughed with him and clung to his every word. He wondered where exactly this peculiar arrangement would go. Could you have a caring relationship with two women simultaneously? Jake didn't know the answer to that question, but decided he would have fun in the process of finding out. He gave each of them a quick kiss on the lips and turned back to the event at hand.

The security presence today was incredible and with the throngs of well wishers he guessed it was probably a good idea. One well placed bomb or improvised mortar round would have killed and maimed many people. It was funny how observations like that stuck with you from the military, but somehow the regular masses would have never even have given it a second thought. Jake pushed the thought from his mind though, he had had a great night and both of those women still hung from his arms. He was all smiles and nothing could bring him down today, nothing.

The ceremony was about what Jake had expected it to be, a lot of people who thought they were important speaking for God only knows how long without actually saying a damn thing. Why was it the more power someone had, the more of everyone else's time they seemed to want to take up by talking? It didn't matter, he had two gorgeous women with him and he was actually going to be recognized for the good he had done for once. As per Jake's instructions, Demetrius gave him the award for being a Good Samaritan. It was good to see his friend and he never forgot a friend. When the festivities concluded, Jake had to hang around and receive more congratulations from the dignitaries. Demetrius walked up to him and gave him a big old bear hug.

"Jake as soon as we are through here, do you think you can pry yourself away from the ladies for a minute?" Demetrius asked in a hushed whisper.

"Sure man, what's going on?" Jake asked also below his breath.

"Our response to the current threats if you're willing," said Demetrius as he broke the embrace.

Jake looked at his friend in bewilderment before nodding. Demetrius had never been known for his secrecy. Jake began to wonder what he exactly meant by "our" response to the current threat. He was out of the fighting business...wasn't he?

"Ladies, if you'll excuse me a moment I have to talk with a friend of mine in private," Jake said.

"Oh, of course we'll stay right here and wait for you," Melani said. Libbi nodded in agreement so Jake took his leave.

As Jake rounded the corner of the stage he saw Demetrius, the mayor, the commissioner, the chief of police, and a very dapper well manicured man whom he did not know. They were already in hushed conversation when Jake approached them.

"Gentlemen I have been given to understand my presence has been requested," Jake said.

"Yes Mr. Church," the mayor said. He paused seeming to choose his next words very carefully. "We believe these attacks are not over and we believe you can help us."

"How exactly do you mean Mr. Mayor?" Jake asked. He didn't like the sound of what the mayor might be suggesting. Jake had gotten his fill of blood in the past. He just wanted to settle down away from the shit storm. Jake had not one, but two girls who seemed to think he was the best thing since someone had decided to put peanut butter and chocolate together. He did not want to take part of any action that had anything to do with this sordid business.

"Jake we need you," Demetrius said. "You have seen this all before, you have taken down people like this before. You know what to look for when people are going into an area that might have IEDs and you know what to do to keep these things from going off. We need you brother."

"Mr. Church you are still less than two years out of active military service is that correct?" said the dapper little man. Jake didn't like his tone.

"Yeah, and what is it to you?" Jake asked. The self important man straightened up and put on a little smile Jake didn't like.

"Well, then you will know that you are still in your window for IRR, the inactive ready reserve?" he asked.

"Who are you anyway?" Jake asked with an irritated tone. No, Jake didn't like this guy at all.

"I'm Mr. Busch from the Department of Homeland Security. You will know then Mr. Church that you can be recalled at any moment against your wishes to active military service until your commitment to the inactive ready reserve has been completed."

There, he said it. That motherfucker, he was going to hold that card over his head if Jake said no. "Well Mr. Busch I guess I'll have just three words for you, go fuck yourself," Jake said scowling. He knew he had no choice and the self important stuffed shirt little shit knew it. By his smile he knew Jake knew it too. "What do you guys have in mind?" Jake asked with a resigned sigh.

Demetrius scowled at the man from Homeland Insecurity. Good, that meant his friend had no part in the idea of extortion, which he was thankful for. "Jake what we plan to do is put together a crack unit. Most of them will come from SWAT, we have a couple guys from EOD, and me," Demetrius said.

Before Jake could respond the police chief chimed in, "Mr. Church you will be compensated for your work with us of course. We are prepared to enter you into the force as a deputized consultant with full police privileges, a top secret security clearance, and the pay grade of Lieutenant. By and large you will be on call in the event of something related to these incidents occurs. You will lead the team into the area and clear it for emergency personnel and you will lead the team in tracking down this terrorist." The important men gathered behind the stage waited for Jake's response. Every bone in Jake's body screamed no, his senses became more alert. He knew the feeling, the feeling that if he did this he would not make it out alive, but what choice did he have?

"Ok," Jake relented, "I'll do it." By the smiles spreading across everyone's faces they were happy to hear it. The guy from Homeland Security seemed a little bummed out, perhaps he wanted the pleasure of making Jake do it. "I want Officer Raines as my second in command," Jake said in a pure nonnegotiable business tone. "He's also getting a promotion equal in pay to what I am being given," Jake paused to assess the faces of the dignitaries. He would get what he wanted. He smiled and continued with his list of demands, "Also I'm going to need at least two canine units, an officer who's good with sketching descriptions, a constant direct line to any helicopter overhead, and cell phone triangulation equipment."

"Is that all Mr. Church?" said the mayor with raised eyebrows.

"Actually, no, Mr. Mayor," said Jake. "I'll also need all of my men equipped with an M-4 with an ACOG sight, flash bangs, teargas, and .45 caliber pistols, silencers are also preferred."

Demetrius smiled and addressed the dignitaries, "Didn't I say he'd want the .45s?" The confounded look of the dignitaries said he was right.

"Oh and one last thing," Jake added, "Everyone is to be plain clothes, with concealable body armor, unless they are on immediate direct action, those individuals will carry MP-5s or some similar submachine gun concealed in addition to their .45."

The mayor looked concerned at the requests Jake was making and then voiced a question, "Mr. Church what exactly do you expect to be doing here, going to war?"

Jake smiled a half smile and then said, "Mr. Mayor, you wouldn't have called me in if we weren't already at war. D-Train, congrats on your promotion and you guys give me a call when everything is ready or the next attack happens, whichever comes first."

With that, Jake went back to his lady friends and escorted them back to his vehicle. He never mentioned anything that had gone on behind the stage, and they didn't ask. Jake decided tonight would be his last night at Magoo's. He would let his boss know when he got in he would not be back, but he would finish his last shift. Who would he be and how would he look at himself if he did not fulfill his commitments? It looked like he would be pretty busy soon. After tonight he would spend as much time with Libbi and Melani as possible. Who knew how long he would be in the Promised Land with these two beautiful ladies? How could he have known the next attacks were actually already underway and had been for the past few hours.

"Good evening I am Jeff Goodwin on the scene," the newscaster began. "Today was a day which was supposed to be full of peace and joy at the heralding of our hero Jake Church. Unfortunately, this would not last past the time of the ceremony at city hall." The camera man panned to the scene behind the newscaster. "As you can see behind me are the remnants of Hampton Middle School. In the early morning hours, a fire broke out and consumed the building, it is fortunate there was no one inside at the time of the fire however this does not mean no one was killed today," said the news man. The camera panned once again this time to the burning hulks of two fire engines, black body bags covered the once firefighters who were responding to extinguish the blazing inferno. "It appears as though the terrorist has struck again. Investigators have told us he used an incendiary device to start the fire in the school. When emergency crews responded to the blaze they ran over a trip wire of some form setting off a chain of IEDs concealed right off of the road, destroying the fire engines and killing the crews," said the newsman. "This would be terrible enough if this was the only attack of this type, but it appears as though this was only one of many." The screen split and showed the very same thing had happened to all of the townships elementary schools, as well as adjoining township's schools. "We do not know if this was a coordinated attack with multiple attackers or if it was a single attacker targeting multiple sights simultaneously," he said. "What we do know is this. There are no surviving fire engines intact from Hampton, West View, Shaler, North Allegheny..." the newscaster continued listing nearly every adjoining township. "Also many police departments have been depleted of vehicles and personnel. These developments will make it very difficult indeed for emergency crews to respond to any kind of emergency for the foreseeable future. The superintendants of these school districts have suspended classes until further notice to protect their students." The newscaster paused apparently receiving a message from the home station. "We have received unconfirmed reports that looting has begun in downtown Pittsburgh," Jeff Goodwin man on the scene said. "Limited police resources will be stretched even further if this is in fact the case, back to you Diane."

The Angel of Death danced with glee as he listened to the news. The Lord had heard his prayers and he had heard His will. The centers for the indoctrination of the innocent against Him were now closed and many burned. The government's police and fire crews were castrated. He had shown the people the government was powerless to stop him. The people were already beginning to rise up and cast off the Evil Empire. It wouldn't be long until the government overreacted and sent in troops to put down this rebellion. Then it would be evident that God was not with the old order anymore and a new one founded in His holy name would be born.

The effect of the schools shutting down would be two fold. The first and most immediate was that the children's minds would not be poisoned any further by the false teachings of this Evil Empire. The second, he had only thought of after the fact, this would disrupt work and the economy. There would be pandemonium. Soon the country would see to what depths of depravity the human spirit could plunge and then through the pain they would be reborn into His new kingdom.

The Dark Angel lit a cigarette to celebrate. The whores of media were his puppets to control now and they would soon forget about their false hero. The Angel of Death scowled when he thought of Jake Church. He was the epitome of what the false Church's teachings were, his name even said it for him. He was a simple debauched man whom the masses were now glorifying as a living god. He was a false idol, a graven image of sorts. Moses and the Levites had shown what happened to those who worshipped graven images. The Dark Angel smiled a smile that would have left anyone seeing it uncomfortable. He, the Avenging Angel of God, would remind the children of Israel of that lesson. Soon enough the false Church, Jake that is, would meet the Lord our God and be judged. Yes, it would be all too soon that he would and when he did, the filthy people who were left behind would have no earthly hero to look to for salvation. The only salvation they would be afforded would come from Him Himself. Jake's time was limited indeed and all who strayed from His path would soon follow the false Church to righteous judgment.

Melani couldn't remember a time in her life when she had been this happy. She had an amazing man who actually cared about her and not just what she could do for him. Granted she had to share that very same man with her best friend, but she didn't care about that. Whatever it took to make her Jake happy she would gladly do. If all he wanted to do was have her and her friend together from now until they were old and grey she would do it. As a matter of fact, she would do it gladly. To her, Jake was her world and whatever he wanted she would gladly give of herself with mind, body, and spirit. All he would have to do is ask, or even simply imply that he wanted it.

Jake went into the kitchen to make them dinner, when Melani and Libbi had offered to do it for him he declined. He had said they were his guests and he wanted to take care of them. If he were half as good of a cook as he was as a lover, they would be in for a treat this evening. How sweet was this man? Even after he had gotten what he wanted, he still wooed them as if he had never been with them before. If all he wanted to do was sleep with them, he should know by now all he needed to do was ask. He had to know, but he still persisted in treating them as if they were gold. Melani loved him alright, even if she still couldn't admit it to herself.

Melani pulled Libbi aside when Jake went into the kitchen. "Hey girlie, what do you think?" she said.

"He is amazing isn't he?" Libbi said practically bouncing. "And last night was amazing, good God who woulda thunk it?"

Libbi was right, it had been an amazing night and he was amazing as well. It wasn't quite what Melani was asking though, so she realized she had to be more specific.

"He is," Melani said adoringly, "I meant more of a...what do you think we should do?"

Libbi thought about it pretty hard before answering, "Well, for now I'm kind of ok with what we got going. You're pretty hot in bed too you know," Libbi said winking at her friend. "If I would have known doing it with you was that fun I would have jumped you years ago."

They both started giggling, but Melani still couldn't quite get the answer she was looking for from her friend, so she asked it yet another way. "Well, I guess what I really mean is, do you think he'll try and choose between us?" Melani said with worry in her voice. She bit her lip fretting in a way she never thought she would over a man. In days gone by she would have already discarded him and moved on to another, or at the very least been just as happy with or without him. Jake was different story altogether though. He was her everything.

"Mel, are you...are you in love with him?" Libbi asked. Concern suddenly clouded her face. She had never seen Melani like this before. Come to think of it, it had all started after the run in with Derrick before they went upstairs. Could it have changed Melani the in a way it had only excited Libbi? Judging by the look in Melani's face, Libbi had hit the nail on the head.

"Lib..." Melani paused at a loss for words, "I think I might be. I mean I've never felt this way before. I would do anything for him and I'd let him do anything to me." Normally when Melani said such things she had a coy look in her eyes, or some other expression showing her outward flirtatious nature enjoying a sexual innuendo. This time though her expression was flat, if not thoughtful. Her eyes instead of being coy were deep with loving adoration for her Jake.

"Mel..." Libbi began.

Before Libbi could finish her thought Melani interrupted saying, "Lib don't worry I know he's liking what he has going on right now with the two of us and I'm not going to do anything to change it so don't worry. I mean being with the both of us makes him happy and if he's happy then I'm happy." Melani smiled the most innocent smile Libbi had ever seen her give. Could she be serious? Could she be in love with a man so deeply she was willing to love him with all of herself and only be loved by a part of him and still be this happy? Judging by the look in her face the answer was yes. Was only part of his love more than all the love any other person had given her?

Before Libbi could comment on it, Jake came out with dinner. He made pasta with shrimp scampi served over a bed of slightly steamed spinach. It was simply to die for. The flavors all complemented each other and he served a bright white wine to go along with it. Apparently gourmet cook was another one of this guy's hidden talents. They were in utter astonishment at his abilities both in and out of bed. He could make them orgasm together multiple times with both his body and his cooking, would wonders never cease? To finish it all off he had made a dessert of individual portions of fresh fruit served with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and coffee on the side. All of the playful flavors together excited the palate and left you feeling sated and not overly full.

All of that only temporarily sidetracked Libbi's mind from what Melani had just disclosed to her. Part of her was jealous at the idea Melani could actually be in love with what she thought of as her man. Then again Jake had taken them as a package, so could she really claim him to herself if she wanted to? More likely than not, she wouldn't be able do that. Then the deeper part of Libbi thought maybe she should be the one to step aside. After all, Melani had never been like this with any of her other conquests. The more interesting question here was, wasn't Melani actually a conquest of Jake's? So many questions filled Libbi's head she had altogether missed what Jake was talking about.

"Well Jake," Melani began, "I know I'm happy with the way things are and unless I missed my guess from last night so is Libbi, aren't ya girlie?" Melani gave Libbi a flirtatious wink.

"Oh yeah, that was my first one of those but I think I could get real used to it, real quick," Libbi said. Whatever happened she didn't want to be the one to back out of something and therefore lose the guy.

Jake and Melani started laughing. Libbi didn't quite understand why until Jake said, "I asked that if you two didn't want to drive home because of your drinking you could stay here. I would stay on the couch if you wanted or if you wanted we could all sleep in my bed, but if you have something else in mind please enlighten me?"

Libbi's face flushed with a new raw embarrassment. Had Melani set her up so she would embarrass herself in front of Jake? She didn't want to think so, but at the same time it kept gnawing at the back of her mind. Silence stretched on for almost a solid minute. She eventually realized she hadn't said anything in awhile and they both were looking at her like the kid that had fallen asleep in math class whom the teacher had just asked an important question. She didn't like it. She had to say something quickly or she'd be stuck in a rut of speechlessness for the foreseeable future.

"Well, I was just thinking since you did all the cooking maybe Melani and I should clean up," Libbi said. She was trying desperately to climb out of the hole she had just dug for herself. "After that well, I kinda already said what was on my mind so why don't we see how your bed compares to the two of ours pushed together?" Libbi asked. Libbi made a kissing motion to Melani and then started playfully twirling her golden locks of hair around her finger.

Before Jake could say anything Melani said, "I think that's the best idea you've had all night girlie." Melani returned the flirtatious expression Libbi had sent her.

"Ok ladies, ok, I can see I'm not going to win this one like I won cooking. So will you at least let me help you in the kitchen with putting the leftovers away?" Jake asked.

"No," the girls answered in unison.

"Ok, in that case I'm going to go outside for a smoke. Thank you again ladies for your generosity. After this I'm gunna get ready for work. Would the two of you like to come down and hang out with me until my shift is over?" Jake asked.

"Oh of course," the girls said bubbling. Any time they could spend with Jake was time well spent indeed.

Jake rose from the table and went outside. He pulled his pack of Marlboro's out of his jacket pocket, tapped out a cigarette and stuck it in his mouth. He then took out a match and lit the end. He drew in a long drag from the cigarette. He held it in for a few seconds before exhaling slowly, another habit from the army he couldn't quite kick. Jake thought about the beauties in his kitchen. He still couldn't believe his good fortune and wondered how long it would last. However little did Jake know, in the next couple of hours he would be pronounced dead.

The Angel of Death descended upon his final target of the evening. This one was the most important of all. The false Church had to be judged. He would deliver him to the Heavenly Judge and then laugh as he was cast down into the lake of fire and brimstone. There the Father of all Lies would welcome the false Church and then he would roast his flesh for eternity as a thank you for the false Church's heresies. The Angel of Death chuckled at the thought of Jake roasting as he readied his tools for the coming judgment. This attack had to go to perfection because it would simultaneously destroy one of the Beast's supply lines of gasoline and the false Church. He disconnected the cell phone detonators from their respective charges and checked to see if they were still in good working order. He tested the connecting wires to ensure the electrical current would flow properly and with enough amperage to set off the blasting caps. The Angel of Death was proud of the fact that he had developed them himself. Regardless, he still made sure they were in good working order. He took out the photos of the site he was to attack and studied them meticulously. He took special note of what Jake Church's vehicle looked like. Even so he had already prepared secondary options.

A gas station sat across the street from Magoo's Bar and Grille. If this wasn't a sign from the Almighty that the false Church was in union with the Beast, he didn't know what was. This was a risky operation as it involved car theft and working in broad daylight both before and after the theft. He chose carefully who to steal the car from so as not to draw undue attention to himself before the true attack. His victim would have to be someone no one would miss, this way no one would be making a stolen vehicle report to ruin his plans. It would also be helpful if the target was already damned as He would bless his venture further for it.

He saw an Asian exchange student from China on the La Roche College campus, perfect. He knew not of His Holiness and by definition was a damned soul. The Angel of Death knew from following the man that all of his family was overseas and he had no friends. The Lord God Almighty had delivered this target into his hands. The Dark Angel spread his blackened wings over the poor man who never suspected a thing. A few short strokes of his blade finished him. The Chinese man never made much more than a gurgling sound as he shed his mortal shell. The Angel of Death watched the light go from his eyes as the man died. Yes, this was the best way to deliver righteous judgment, right up close where you could see the agents of Satan coming up to retrieve the damned soul. The Angel of Death loaded the body into the trunk of the beige Toyota Camry the former owner would never drive again and drove off to continue His work.

The Angel of Death loaded a couple of large propane tanks and enough HME into the back seat and trunk of the car so as to destroy the small bar two or three times over and enough shrapnel to shred anything that might escape the blast or the resulting fire. The shrapnel came in the form of junkyard odds and ends, nuts, bolts, nails, a length of chain or two, and ball bearings of all sizes. He prepared a standard charge load for the gas station as well. The two places were close enough, even the large propane tanks sitting in the trunk could have probably set off the gas station itself, but it paid to be thoroughly prepared. The Dark Angel found it amazing how little attention a man carrying a military duffle bag drew walking around a gas station, especially since he had proven this to be one of his favored targets. Perhaps it was because everyone had a child or two they were trying to coral due to all the schools being closed down, again his work or rather His work. Or perhaps it was because people so feared their visits to these places nowadays they were walking and riding bicycles more. Either way His will was being accomplished and the Angel of Death was able to accomplish his appointed task.

When nightfall came the Angel of Death was in his element. Even though it was early spring, daylight still fled quickly from the evening sky. Night embraced him as a mother embraces her child. This was the way he embraced his holy labors. He embraced it with loving care and affection. He took pride in his work's accomplishments. He looked down the small hill to the T shaped intersection made by the road he was on. Unfortunately for the bar, it was on the blunt end of the T. The front door and the bar where the letch Jake Church worked lay just beyond. By now he would be busy passing out the last legal drug to their eager recipients.

"Thou shalt not revel in drunkenness and debauchery," the Angel of Death said as he passed holy judgment on them. He stood a good couple of paces away from the car smoking a cigarette. Only the burning coal from its tip illuminated his eyes in short anxious bursts. He reveled in the anticipation, the hunt. The act rarely enticed him as much, but this time with Jake he thought he wouldn't be too disappointed. Preparing the car for its new purpose without arising too much suspicion hadn't been nearly as difficult as he had imagined. A couple of passersby had actually helped him carry some of the tanks out to the car, probably thinking they were doing a good deed. He laughed at the memory of the fools. He decided to remember how trusting people were of others working on a car for future use. The Angel of Death started the car of the dead Asian exchange student still residing in the trunk, now laden with two large propane tanks, HME, and Thermite. Yes, he would have to remember this trick indeed. "And then the Lord said unto them, kill them all until there is not one thing living," The Angel of Death said putting the car into drive. He tied the wheel so the car would go straight and then he wedged a couple of books on the accelerator and jumped free of the car.

The Angel of Death watched the car race down the hill toward its intended target. He already had the text message ready to deliver which would trigger both of the explosions in unison. He wanted to wait until the car had broken into the front of the bar, hopefully wedging itself on top of that cur Jake Church before sending the detonation signal. This would be when it was most effective, if however another vehicle sideswiped the bomb car he would detonate early and hope for the best. As things would turn out, the Almighty had truly blessed his venture. The car slammed into the front of the bar, people began screaming in both pain and fear. The damned began to scurry, in a futile effort to escape. They reminded the Dark Angel of so many ants scurrying away from an ant hill that had just been kicked over. Much like exterminating an ant colony, you never just kick the hill you have a better plan in store. He pushed the send button. Almost instantly the car and the charges set at the gas station sang in unison. The chorus of all the heavenly hosts could not have sung so sweetly. He was making joyful noises unto the Lord. The fire and smoke leaping to the sky sent a warm wave over him. It was as if God himself were sending him a fiery hug showing him favor. The Angel of Death whooped with glee. The false Church was dead, dead! He decided he should return to his home and watch the news for the impending announcement that the false hero was in simply a man, and he would not rise again.

"Fuck, why isn't he answering!" Demetrius lamented. It wasn't like Jake not to answer his phone. He dialed it again and once again got Jake's voice mail. "Fuck!" Demetrius exclaimed.

"No word from our boy?" said Demetrius's second in command.

"No Damian, not a damn thing," Demetrius said. Damian was the most senior guy on the new task force that was supposed to be headed by Jake, but with no word from him for the last few hours following a fiery explosion at his place of work, Demetrius was beginning to worry for his friend.

"What do ya say boss?" Damian asked.

Damian Andrews had been the SWAT team leader for the past six years and because of his experience he was an easy pick to lead the immediate action group in the new task force. Damian was a short swarthy Greek who grew up on the North Side of Pittsburgh. His ancestors had left Greece when it was ruled by the Turks, only to return to fight the Turks during the revolution and then again when the Turks invaded Cyprus. Word was some members of his family were still in Greece undertaking guerilla actions against them still, so they could free the church of Agia Sofia from Muslim occupation. Damian was never at a lack for courage and had a tattoo across his back which read "it is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees." The tattoo was all in Greek of course which looked and sounded much cooler. All of this only added to his mystique and quiet ferocity. In another life Demetrius imagined Damian would have been standing shoulder to shoulder with Leonidas at Thermopylae slaying Persians until the end.

Damian was the first one to step up and want to go when he heard Magoo's Bar and Grille had been bombed in an apparent assassination attempt of Jake Church. In Damian's mind they had to refute or confirm this claim as soon as possible. He also believed that killing the only man to have frustrated one of the attacks would have been impossible for the terrorist to stay away from. Demetrius agreed with the thought, but given the chaos descending upon the city, he was reluctant to let such a valuable asset go into a situation that could turn out to be a trap. Demetrius knew Jake had been scheduled to work tonight and he hadn't answered his phone since the blast. Jake was always the type to make it to work at least fifteen minutes before his shift started, in Jake's view if you were only on time you were actually late. Demetrius guessed it was some crap the army had brainwashed him into thinking. Now that Magoo's Bar and Grille was only a smoldering crater after the explosion, there wasn't a soul who could tell him who, if anyone, had made it out. They all hoped against hope Jake had, but when he wouldn't answer his cell phone...

Demetrius sighed and then turned to Damian saying, "We have to assume the worst. He may have been killed. So I want you to take a team down to the bar to confirm. Just don't blunder in, make sure you clear the parked cars so you don't get any nasty surprises." Maybe Jake was just buried under some rubble. Demetrius began to rub his shaved head with nervous anxiety.

Damian nodded and then shouted to his team, "Alpha with me, Bravo stay with the boss we have some work to do. Canine unit one and EOD one you are with me too, move out!" Damian popped a fresh magazine into his M-4 and chambered a round. No one was taking him by surprise.

"Sir," said the Bravo team leader. Demetrius thought his name was Harris something or other. "Sir, we need to issue a statement on Church. If he's dead then we need to let the people know their hero just went up in smoke and we kinda need to notify his parents." Harris had never seen any real action, but came highly recommended based on his past training events. Demetrius hoped he wasn't just a book soldier. However, Harris had a way of making sure you followed protocol and procedure even if it was inconvenient at times.

Demetrius hadn't even thought about notifying the parents of Jake yet. "Fuck," he said under his breath. "You're right Harris, I hadn't even thought about that yet. Do you know where I can get their phone number or address?" Harris shrugged. Of course he wouldn't know. Why would he care about how to get a hold of the new guy's parents? A thought occurred to Demetrius just then. "Hey what about those girls he brought with him to the ceremony?" Demetrius asked. "Can we track them down, maybe he was with them?"

"Alright Sir, do you know their names?" Harris asked. "Maybe we can run them and get a number for them or at least an address?"

"Yeah, their names are Melani Prescott and Libbi Jung find'em for me, will you?" Demetrius said.

"Will do Sir," Harris said. He spun around and ran out of sight.

Just then Demetrius's phone began to chime. Demetrius answered it with haste, "Jake? You ok man?"

"Judging by how you answered your phone Mr. Raines I'll take it that you have not heard from your boy yet, eh?" the voice from the other line said. Demetrius couldn't recognize the voice for the life of him. He checked the display which only said "restricted number."

"Who is this?" Demetrius asked.

"I am he whom was sent by Him to do His work," the voice cryptically replied.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Demetrius asked. He was becoming impatient with this jackass. Who was he anyway and how did he know Jake was...

"Be careful with your words Mr. Raines, taking the Lord's name in vain is a terrible sin," the voice said mockingly. Something about his mocking tone though held an undercurrent of severity.

"You miserable son of a bitch, are you the bastard behind all of this?" Demetrius accused the voice on the other line. What Demetrius wouldn't give to have this little prick in front of him right now to strangle with his own bare hands.

"I am he whom was sent by Him to do His work," the voice repeated again in a flat tone.

Demetrius considered his next words with care before speaking. "What is his work, who is he and what do you want?" Demetrius said. While he waited for an answer he pulled out a pad of paper and a pen to record what the voice said.

The laugh on the other end of the phone made Demetrius's blood run cold. "If you do not know Him, then He does not know you. Good bye Mr. Raines"

Demetrius tried to keep him on the line, cursing himself for not having thought ahead to have his possible phone conversations recorded before hand, but to no avail. The line went dead and according to the caller, so was Jake. Demetrius bit back tears of sadness and loss mingled with rage and dialed another number on his phone, this time to the police chief. He had to be made aware, their hero was dead.

V

"Hello my name is Jeff Goodwin and I'm on the scene," said the newscaster. The Angel of Death was beginning to become annoyed with how the newsman shamelessly self-promoted, but decided to stay his execution on account of the news he was about to deliver. He relished it. He couldn't wait to hear it from the lips of the most trusted man on television since Walter Cronkite.

"If you look behind me you will see the latest devastation the cowardly terrorist has wrought on our peaceful town," said Mr. Goodwin. The cameraman, who was becoming very adept in his timing of panning to scenes of destruction, panned first to the destroyed gas station. "The pictures of this devastation should remind you of the attacks we have experienced earlier this week. It is estimated thirteen people lost their lives here." The cameraman panned over Jeff Goodwin's other shoulder to what could only be best described as a crater with assorted bits of rubble strewn about the still smoldering flames. "However, the gas station was not the only target nor was it even the hardest hit," said the newsman. "Behind me is what is left of Magoo's Bar and Grille, as you can see not much was left after the explosion. Sources say a vehicle was used as a bomb and was rammed through the front door of the bar in the early evening hours. Most of you will remember the "Hero of Hampton" Jake Church worked as a bartender at this very bar," the newscaster took a moment to steel himself for the next line. "Sources also say Mr. Church was scheduled to work last night and he is believed to be amongst the dead. It is not clear as to how many others perished, however it is suspected to be near one hundred. Shrapnel even made it as far over as the CCAC North Campus, the Community College of Allegheny County, which is located several hundred yards away from the bar. Flying shrapnel wounded an additional three people who were working late, and killed a student as she left from studying in the library. What is still unsure is how the rest of the city will take this tragic news. Initial reports are coming in now. Groups of angry citizens are taking to the streets. What tomorrow will bring, only a greater power must know. As always, I am Jeff Goodwin on the scene, back to you Diane."

In the wake of the announcement, what was left of the common good holding back common evil like a great dam, finally gave way. Without the people's hero left alive as a shining reminder of what good could look like, people began to embrace the darker side of humanity. Without the police, fire, and ambulance crews, riots continued unchecked. The fires burned without end. The wounded died without reprieve. The National Guard was mostly deployed overseas fighting America's war on foreign soil. What was left was woefully undermanned and even more woefully ill equipped. Gangs had members who had been in the Guard to learn their tactics and were putting them to use against one another and whatever hero cop would dare step foot on their territory. Four man stacks of armed thugs stormed into rival gang's houses clearing rooms of anything breathing and taking anything of value. They posted observation posts in buildings to warn of danger and to kill any targets of opportunity. It was a dark hour. The darkest hour in American history, historians would later say, as anarchy reigned supreme. The Greatest Generation who fought in the Second World War were probably the last people to see chaos on this scale and most of them were powerless to do anything to stop it. They had been too soft on their children and children's children growing up. They had let their ill conceived notions of greatness, materialism, and national grandeur eclipse that of humility, common decency, and obedience to God. Now the country would reap what it had sown nearly four generations before hand in blood.

Dr. Ned Parks was watching the news at the breakfast table, as had become his custom many years before. He ate his customary sausage, biscuits, eggs, and of course nearly a gallon of gravy. What he was hearing now made his stomach lurch and he suddenly regretted the extra sausage and black pepper gravy he had ladled onto his plate.

"How could this be?" Dr. Parks said aloud.

Of course no one was there to hear him, but somehow saying it out loud seemed to make things a little better. He drained the contents of his whiskey coffee then set it aside and picked up the bottle. He tipped it back to his lips and took a couple of healthy slugs straight from the bottle. It didn't seem to do much for the trembling his hands he was still experiencing. He attempted to light a cigarette and almost burned his eye in the process. On his second attempt he got his nose, at least he was getting closer though. On the third attempt he finally got the Marlboro Red going. Normally this would have had a calming effect on the chronic chain smoker, but today it seemed to only make him more edgy. He took short nervous puffs on the cigarette until as if by magic it was down to the filter. He took another cigarette out of the box and used the coal from the first to light the second. Less chance of lighting his eyebrows on fire that way, or so he hoped. He took a long drag on the second cigarette to slow his breathing and he held in the smoke. As he let it out, he could feel his tense muscles and jumpy nerves ease a bit, but not much.

"That lunatic has been hitting schools, gas stations, bars, and the only people crazy enough to go into danger help others, what the fuck is he gunna do next?" Dr. Parks said again to himself. Again there was no answer. "If there is a God and he is good, how can he let these bad things happen?" For once Dr. Parks wasn't just posing this question in a classroom to generate a discussion of philosophy, today he genuinely wanted to know. How was it that God could let such a good man like Jake Church die and yet still allow his evil killer to remain alive and go unpunished?

The ironic thing was Jake Church probably was the only person Ned Parks looked up to nowadays, or as much as one can look up to someone more than twice as young as yourself. He had seen two of his students on the stage with him, Libbi Jung and Melani Prescott. By the looks they gave him and the big goofy grin Jake wore all morning, he had probably been with the both of them the previous night, lucky bastard.

"At least the man died happy," Dr. Parks said ruefully. Ned picked up the bottle of whiskey again, forsaking the coffee dilution and drank freely from the bottle. The fire which fought its way down his throat at first, slowly, turned into a numb flowing sensation. Soon the rest of him would be numb enough to put off the difficult questions of philosophy and spirituality. He didn't know how it had happened, but his pack of cigarettes seemed to have magically turned themselves into cigarette butts in his ashtray without being smoked.

"How could this be?" he thought. Just then he felt the urgent need to use the bathroom and he stood up. "Whoa, ok. That's how it could be," he answered himself chuckling. With his worries and cares temporarily numbed, he allowed himself to have some selfish thoughts again.

"Looks like I need some more smokes and a date," he said zipping up his pants after he had finished. He washed his hands and took a pill bottle out of the medicine cabinet. He finally unscrewed the cap after a few unsuccessful attempts and almost dropped it into the still open toilet. He swallowed one of the little blue pills down with a handful of water. Putting it back in the medicine cabinet, he took out one of the business cards from one of the classier girls he liked to call when he wanted his dates to come to him. He dialed the phone and waited for it to ring.

"Hey there, is this Roxie?" Dr. Parks said into the phone. "Yeah, it's Ned, I was wondering if you had some time in your schedule for me today." Dr. Parks listened to the response. "Good, good, how does an hour from now sound?" Dr. Parks listened to the response again. "No, the only special request I have is for you to bring a box of Marlboro Red's, cuz I'm out." Dr. Parks thought about Jake while he listened to the sultry voice on the other line. "Actually Roxie, scratch that I do have another special request and I know I'll have to pay a good bit extra for it too, will you bring your friend Jezebel with you?" Dr. Parks waited for the answer on the other line. "Yeah, everything that goes with it for at least an hour, ok that sounds like a fair price, I'll see you two in an hour."

Dr. Parks smiled and then took another blue pill. He knew she had price gouged him, but hell he didn't have two girls at the same time very often and with as much whiskey as he had consumed, he was feeling mighty generous.

Demetrius Raines was pacing back and forth in his makeshift headquarters. He was here because the higher ups had decided the rest of the team should be located apart from the main department. This was due, in part, to what had happened to Jake yesterday. It was also in part due to the terrorist's ability to track down Demetrius's unlisted cell phone number. The idea to follow up on the location of the two girls Jake had taken with him to the ceremony had been a bust. Libbi and Melani were not answering their cell phones either and a follow up check on their dorm rooms yielded nothing of value. It looked as if they had been gone for a couple days. Melani did not have a car and Libbi's car was not in the parking lot according to administrative staff. With the size of the explosion at the bar, Demetrius wouldn't have been surprised if they found pieces of her vehicle years from now. When the team gained entry to their dorm room they were nowhere to be found. Some left over Chinese food was sitting on one of their desks and had clearly been there for quite awhile. Demetrius frowned. They must have been with Jake at the bar when the bomb had gone off. He thought it was such a shame, two very attractive girls were no longer going to be able to continue making the world more beautiful with their presence.

Being dead aside, Demetrius thought Jake could quite possibly have been the luckiest bastard he had ever known to have been able to get a chance with even one of those girls, let alone both of them. Demetrius had never been all that interested in white women before, but for those two he could, no would, have made an exception. Hell, those girls could have been green with purple polka dots and they would have still been damn fine. By the way they looked at Jake and hung off of him, Demetrius could tell at least the redhead was probably falling for him.

Demetrius had just got off of the phone with the mayor a few minutes ago, apparently street gangs and common thugs could smell the blood in the water with so many police and emergency crews being killed by the terrorist madman. Cars were exploding seemingly at random outside of people's places of work or at their homes. Demetrius supposed the madman had got the bright idea to start randomly wiring people's cars to explode either when they started or on a timer, just perfect. This would only further exacerbate the economic woes and terror the city was experiencing. In such a heavy consumer economy, if no one was going out to buy anything the economy would grind to a halt soon.

The media was giving way too much attention to the fact that the police could not respond to emergencies anymore. The media was also having a field day with the latest disaster to befall the city. Some of the gangs actually had physically taken over parts of down town Pittsburgh. Police, the few that remained, venturing into these parts were being gunned down or taken hostage. The gangs were also brazenly attacking police stations and seizing weapons, ammunition, body armor, confiscated money, and confiscated drugs. After taking what they wanted they burned the stations to the ground. With insufficient fire crews, the stations were not the only parts of the city which would go down in flames as a result of fires being set. Gang members now had everything a small guerilla band could want, machine guns aside. Demetrius wondered how long it would be until some enterprising individual either fabricated one or acquired one. He frowned at the thought.

Rape, looting, arson, and armed robbery were all going unchecked in an ever rising tsunami of crime of the likes even New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina had not seen. Women and girls were disappearing from the streets in broad daylight. Some were taken from their homes, while others were just dragged away from the sidewalks and put into vans. Common folks who would have never committed a crime worse than speeding in their lives were looting any store they could get into. Once everything of value was removed from the stores the mobs were setting them on fire. Poor small business owners sat and cried as they watched their life's work go up in flames. Any person who tried to make a stand against the mob were brutally and unceremoniously killed. Banks had a rush on them of both concerned customers wanting to make sure they got their money and villains with guns. Most of the customers seemed to forget it was a Sunday and were robbed at the banks. The rest of the customers were making a run on ATMs. It was not long until criminals started staking them out as well and relieving people of the money they had withdrawn. More often than not, the thieves were making uncontested getaways. The women were disappearing never to be seen again. Dreams of success and a decent living for their families were reduced to ash. Monday would be a hard one on Wall Street. It was nearly impossible to fathom. Only a mere twenty four hours before hand the entire city had been united for a common goal and a common good. Could the death of one man really have been so significant?

Out in the suburbs of Pittsburgh, vigilante "justice" was rearing its ugly head. Groups of former Mr. Moms and soccer moms armed themselves to the teeth and were calling themselves "The Watchmen." They were killing people of Middle Eastern decent indiscriminately and burning down mosques. The suburban icon of the minivan, once a sign of peace and prosperity with children jumping out, were now harbingers of death with gun toting nutcases bursting out of them. Towns across the country were having similar problems by experiencing sympathy riots with vigilantes all their own. Those towns were in a better way to combat them however, as their police forces and emergency crews had not been so badly decimated prior to the outbreak of violence. All the same the picture across the nation looked grim indeed.

The Governor of the state of Pennsylvania declared a state of emergency and called on the National Guard to come in and help restore order. The only unfortunate thing about this decision was the Governor neglected to remember that most of the soldiers were currently deployed in support of Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom. The Guard soldiers who remained did not have enough troops to make a full company under any unified command, nor did they have the logistical support, nor the equipment to even begin to stem the tide of violence and chaos. The Governor of Ohio volunteered the only two companies he had left at his disposal, the 585th MP Company and Charlie Company 1-148th Infantry without a definite timeline. Apparently things were getting pretty frisky in Cincinnati and Akron, Columbus and Cleveland were simmering, but had not exploded yet. The only good news on this vein was both of those companies had seen recent combat in Iraq. The bad news was, like most of the National Guard units nowadays, they only had three commissioned officers between the two of them, none of which were on the last deployment. Only time would tell how those junior officers would perform. Just then Demetrius's phone began to ring.

"This is Raines, go ahead," said Demetrius. When the phone rang, only bad news was coming from the other end as of late.

"Raines this is Busch. Is this line secure?" said the man from Homeland Security.

"As secure as it can be under the current conditions. How can I help you," said Demetrius.

"I have some bad news and I have some worse news, what do you want first?" asked Mr. Busch.

"Just give it to me straight," Demetrius's replied burrowing his face in his free hand.

"Ok, here's how it is," Mr. Busch paused taking a breath. This was going be bad news indeed. "The mayor has been taken hostage and the chief and the commissioner have been assassinated early this morning," said Mr. Busch.

"What the hell! How did this happen!" said Demetrius his voice full of surprise.

"Well, some enterprising group hit the mayor's house, killed the guards and absconded with him back into the city somewhere. It is believed he will be ransomed at a later date, but no demands have been made as of yet. As for the commissioner and the chief, they were in a meeting together at the chief's house. A short while after the start of the meeting, a car laden with explosives and shrapnel was driven through his front door and then detonated. From the looks of it, it seems like our guy at this scene was the same guy that did Church in."

"Jesus Christ!" Demetrius exclaimed. "Who the hell is in charge?"

"Well, in all honesty no one really knows," was his response. "However, I think you should take charge on the security side of things in Pittsburgh and I'll try and take charge of some of the other bigger issues around the state. How does that sound to you?" Mr. Busch asked.

Demetrius's head was spinning. "I'll do what I can Sir. Would you please have anyone who is still in charge of any sizeable police force call me so we can consolidate?" asked Demetrius.

"Will do, and good luck," said Mr. Busch and then the phone went dead.

Demetrius was in a state of total shock. For all intents and purposes he was in a combat zone with almost no troops or equipment. He hoped the troops from Ohio would be able to help, but he wasn't going to hold his breath.

"Damian could I see you a minute?" said Demetrius. Damian came running in.

"What's up boss?" his second in command asked.

Demetrius informed him of his phone conversation with Mr. Busch. It was always difficult to determine what was on the grizzled Greek's mind. Judging by his face now, today would be no different. When Demetrius had finished what he had to say he waited for Damian's response.

"Well it looks like you just got yourself a promotion there boss," Damian said. "My recommendation is to move our happy asses further into the suburbs. Way I figure it, better to be around the nut bags with guns who want order than the nut bags with guns in the city who want chaos. Also we could give ourselves a little standoff distance between us and a car bomb, which after today sounds like a good idea, dontcha think? Probably could use some advice from the boys and girls who have been there and done that overseas," Damian said. He had well articulated and thought out points, but lacked a location for this strongpoint in his little soliloquy.

"Okay, that sounds pretty reasonable," Demetrius said. He pondered on locations he knew best fitting the description Damian had set out. Schools were the first obvious choice. However the original madman had already burned most of those up. That guy always seemed to be one step ahead of the game. "How about we use the Wild Wood Country Club?" Demetrius asked. "It has a big building, big kitchen, and plenty of open ground we can use to our advantage."

Damian smiled and then said, "Take from the rich and give to the poor then, eh?" Damian paused to consider the proposal further and then said, "I'll go about requisitioning it and getting anything useful out of the city so we can consolidate." Damian spun around on his heels and then was out of the door.

Demetrius had always wanted a promotion and more responsibility when it came to his work. He thought he would have been able to do the chief's job without a doubt. He had also thought about what it would have been like to be a soldier deployed overseas in a lawless country. He thought he could do that too, but with his knee after the injury in college, he knew the army would never have taken him. Now he had both of those tasks before him. Demetrius was apparently one of the only surviving police officers with any kind of rank for quite a few jurisdictions. He had to be in order for him to be in charge of the entire Pittsburgh area. He was also the only thing resembling authority in these parts since the rapid dissolution of law and order in the wake of the attacks. "Be careful what you wish for," Demetrius said ruefully to himself, "You just might get it."

Dr. Ned Parks sat glued to his television. What else could he do in a time like this? Word the crazy man was putting car bombs in unsuspecting peoples vehicles broke earlier in the morning. Apparently he had even put some explosives in some big rigs which went off as soon as they started on their hauls. Most of those must have been on timers because a few blew some bridges to hell and gone. Others knocked out the Fort Pitt and Liberty tunnels. Word also was a couple of them had been what set off a few trucking stations full of fuel and weary travelers. No one wanted to start their cars for any reason anymore. No one wanted to visit convenience stores or gas stations for any reason. Kids couldn't go to school because they didn't exist anymore by and large. Those kids who did have school buildings still standing were not permitted to go to school for security concerns. Office buildings all over the city were closed due to threats or the perception they could be next. With no work and no school idle hands were quickly becoming the Devil's play things.

La Roche College suspended classes because of the latest civil disturbance in addition to the madman's attacks. Who knew if there would even be a La Roche College after all of this between the nutcase vigilantes and a maniac bomber? Ned Parks might have been a liberal's liberal, but one thing he never followed rank and file with his party on was the idea of gun control. Dr. Parks was a true believer of the saying, when the residents of a country are armed, they are citizens and when they are unarmed they are subjects. Now with anarchy spilling out of the city and across the nation, Ned was happy he still had his trusty M-14 battle rifle and his Colt 1911A1 he had been trained on back in the early days of Vietnam. Seeing what he had seen in those early days of the war had been what drove him into philosophy and, consequently, the bottle. The news was covering the gang violence, the death of the commissioner and the chief, and the kidnapping of the mayor. Ned felt his hand slip down to the .45 on his hip, its weight comforted him.

The looting hadn't hit this part of the suburbs too hard yet, in part due to the vigilante group calling themselves "The Watchmen" which had their attentions turned to every dark skinned person who looked like they might be a Muslim. Looting their houses and places of worship were okay because they were the cause of all this, they were the problem...fucking hypocrites. Minivans, the once iconic taxi for children headed to ballet classes and soccer practice had morphed into taxis of terror. Gun toting nut jobs would jump out of them to accomplish their appointed task. One particular task was to secure stores like Walmart, Kmart, Giant Eagle, Gander Mountain, and any other store of value. All of these stores would have been looted quicker and with more violence had the Watchmen not arrived. They were making the looting an orderly looting. While they allowed no one to take any of the guns or ammunition, they did allow some of the necessities for daily living to be taken. A group of Watchmen would take ten or twenty individuals into the store at a time. Each person would be allowed to take one shopping cart full of goods before being escorted out again and allowing the next group to enter. A few bodies were on display in front of the stores showing what happened if you defied their will. Early reports with distraught mothers said that the vigilante group was recruiting young men and just taking away the young women. Maybe it was true or maybe it was just a bunch of people overreacting to nothing. Whatever was going on realistically had to lay somewhere in between, right?

"If there is a God and His day is to be the holiest of days, how then on this day can he allow such things to transpire?" Dr. Parks said to himself. It was then he realized his coffee tasting different, not bad, but just different. He looked in astonishment at the mug as if it had played a trick on him. Could it be he had forgotten to put his obligatory shot of whiskey in it? It had been years since he had drunk coffee whose only ingredients were water, coffee beans, and caffeine. He looked away from the television and to the dining room table. He had a toasted bagel on a plate with jam. No gravy soaked sausage and biscuits lay on his plate. Next to his plate lay his M-14 which had, as if by magic, disassembled itself. He was holding a lightly oiled rag and was wiping down the bolt. When did that happen?

"I guess you can take a man out of the army, but you can't take the army out of the man," Dr. Parks said in disbelief staring down. How long had it been since he had disassembled and cleaned his rifle without thought? Could it really have been around forty years? Yet somehow his hands remembered what needed doing when push came to shove. His chubby fingers that somehow couldn't seem to separate test sheets, were somehow managing ejector springs and other small delicate pieces without qualm.

Dr. Parks still had his OD green uniform hanging in his closet neatly pressed in a bag and his black jungle boots were still perfectly shined to a high gloss sitting directly beneath. He was a hundred pounds lighter the last time he wore the uniform, but thought the boots should still fit. The uniform on the other hand would be a lost cause. He suddenly longed for one of the Lucky Strikes that came in the C-rations back then, but all he had were his Marlboro Reds. They were good, but they were not the same as the toasted unfiltered cigarette. Now the military was trying to take away all tobacco from the troops. Didn't the brass realize sometimes after combat or seeing one of your buddies maimed or killed, the only thing you had to keep you from suck starting your rifle was that little self-destructive mercy?

His thoughts returned to the matter at hand. He needed to find likeminded people who would support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies foreign and domestic. These loony toons Watchmen were no better than the terrorist madmen who had started this whole mess. He remembered a student who had once taken his class named Christos Sarandos. The young man was quiet, but very bright and was almost on the Greek Olympic shooting team. In the end he declined the invitation, but he still was the number three small bore rifleman in this country which said a lot. His father, Niko, could not have been more politically different from Ned, but what they did agree on ran deep. This country must be defended against all enemies and a well armed society is a polite society. Mr. Sarandos's basement was rumored to be the literal Arsenal of Democracy and allegedly he had enough ammunition to supply a small army in bullets for an entire campaign. Not to mention he had enough reloading stations, powder, shot, and primers to last until Christ's second coming.

Communication lines were not what they should have been. Phone lines had been knocked down as well as cell phone towers, either by frisky rioters or by the mad bomber himself with his trademarked HME main charge. That guy knew what he was doing alright, he struck fear into the population for a week and let it be freely broadcast and then abruptly cut off a lot of the more common forms of communication. Curiously he left television broadcasting, power, and radio alone. Why didn't he just go in for the strategic kill? Dr. Parks decided he would have to brave what might be outside in order to get to Mr. Sarandos's house. Alone he was just an old man with a couple of guns. Together with a couple of other likeminded people they could resist what was to come in the future, whatever it may be.

Dr. Parks reassembled his rifle in a time that would have even impressed his Drill Sergeant which was really saying something. Drill Sergeant Weaver could have seen Jesus himself walking on water and then go and make a comment about how he took too long to cross. Ned inserted a magazine into the magazine well and then chambered a round. The metallic click of the well oiled bolt warmed his heart. He checked his Colt 1911 to make sure he had a full magazine and a round in the chamber as well, you could never be too careful you know. Ned was a true believer there were only two numbers when it came to personal defense and those numbers were four and five and in that order. He loaded up the rest of his ammunition, magazines, and supplies he thought he would need into a large back pack and put a few of the extra magazines in his pockets incase he needed them quickly. Dr. Parks was strapping on his boots for the first time since he had taken them off forty years ago. He could feel the soldier deep within him beginning to wake up. His inner soldier was disgusted with how fat and out of shape he had allowed himself to become. He would need to go on foot as the Watchmen were setting up illegal checkpoints and "taxing" anything they liked, he would risk a heart attack but what the hell. If he was going to die today or in the near future, he would die fighting with his boots on.

Derrick had never handled a firearm before and the closest thing to a fight he had ever been in was when that cocksucker Jake Church had sucker punched him in the process of stealing his girl. Now Jake was dead and as far as Derrick was concerned it was good riddance to bad rubbish. Derrick had been instrumental in the formation of the Watchmen. He had foreseen this event long beforehand and had acted accordingly. The internet was great for organizing likeminded people around the world. As one of the group's founders and leaders he enjoyed prestige, power, and women whoever and whatever he wanted. All the same though, those girls were not Libbi. Granted he could do what he wanted with these other girls, but he did not love them the way he loved Libbi and he knew she also must have loved him. If it were not for that fucking faggot Jake Church who went and fucked everything up... Well that was neither here nor there, Jake was dead and Derrick was the man of the hour. He was restoring law and order after the rapid descent into madness from the most recent attacks. He was punishing those responsible for the downfall of that order with extreme prejudicial malice.

Derrick did enjoy the company of a couple of Muslim girls before he gave them over for judgment. He had done it not because he found them beautiful, though most were, he did it to see the look on their faces after they had served an infidel. Granted they thought by giving themselves to him they might be spared, but Derrick wouldn't dispel this idea until after they had done what he wanted them to do. None of them were his Aryan Princess though, his beloved. True he also had used a few of the Watchmen women for bed warmers who were beautiful blondes with blue eyes, but they were simply not Libbi. He hoped when the bomb detonated and killed her would be suitor it hadn't killed her as well. He could have cared less if that whore of a slutty friend of hers was roasting in hell, but that was also neither here nor there. There was no way of knowing for sure unfortunately. Those who had been in the powerful blast were shredded so badly it would take years to even figure out how many people were in the bar, let alone whose blood and gore was whose. Seeing as Libbi hadn't answered her cell phone or come out of her dorm room in the past couple days, it did not bode well for the chance she was still alive, but he still held out hope and he still prayed. Just then a noise came from under his desk.

"Mister, can I go home now?" said the Arab girl he had been using.

"Does it look like I am done with you?" Derrick said pointing.

"No Sir," she said resignedly and then resumed the task Derrick had set before her.

Derrick decided if he ever did find Libbi alive again he would never tell her about his exploits. He would treat Libbi as if she were made of gold and as if there had never been anyone else. Derrick believed he was a patriot, he felt as if he were a Templar on the crusades ridding the holy land of its infidel infestation. He was setting things to rights, even if he did enjoy his work in the process. Derrick smiled as he heard coughing from under his desk.

"Now I am done with you. Go tell the guard I said to take you where you need to go."

The girl got up with her eyes cast downward to the floor and then she left the room. Little did she know what she was about to tell the guard was a code to get rid of her once and for all. Derrick smiled again, this time it was the type of smile a wolf might have had eyeing its prey before a kill.

VI

It was a foggy Monday morning on the Wild Wood Country Club grounds. Many of the patrons of this club asked if they could move their families onto the grounds to receive some added protection. Given this was the only condition those people had imposed for the use of the grounds, it wasn't all that unreasonable. Demetrius allowed them to stay under the condition they not hinder operations from this place and they adhere to the rationing he would be enforcing. Who knew when relief and resupply would come?

Earlier in the morning the troops from Ohio arrived and set up a hasty traffic control point on the road leading up to the new headquarters. Demetrius stared out the window at the traffic control point and wondered why the hell the army had gone to a pattern and color scheme like the ones the new uniform used. Those troopers didn't blend into anything except maybe a gaudy couch you might find in a certain type of massage parlor. He was not going to complain about it too loudly though, as it meant he had more and more heavily armed bodies at his disposal. Soon he would need to figure out a way to secure the ever inflating grounds he had to manage. Currently the Guard officers were sending out recon patrols a few times a day, but this would get to be too demanding in the long run. They dug trenches to stop vehicles and vehicle bombs from racing across the open golf course grounds toward the main building, another good idea Demetrius wished he had come up with on his own. Demetrius needed some fencing or even some barbed wire to keep some space between them and what might be disaster out there, vehicles could be stopped by trenches, but determined people would not be hindered by just a few holes in the ground. Just then a knock came on his door, a welcomed relief from his current daunting task.

"Come in," said Demetrius.

"Good morning Sir, my name is Derrick Warren and I command the Watchmen group in this area," the young man said. The young man looked to be in his early to mid twenties. He had short blond hair and piercingly blue eyes. Physically he was quite unimpressive, especially compared to the imposing blockhouse of a man Demetrius was, but when anyone commanded an armed band they garnered some attention and respect regardless of their physical stature.

"Ah yes, Mr. Warren, I was hoping to meet with you. Please sit down," said Demetrius gesturing to a chair. The boy had a look of confidence bordering on pompous arrogance. Demetrius realized he would need to be cautions as not to offend this kid's delicate sensibilities. "I understand your group has taken the law into its own hands a bit, is this not so?"

"If by taking the law into our own hands you mean imposing law and order where you could not or would not, then yes," Derrick answered with his jaw thrust outward.

"Alright, then let me get to the point," Demetrius said. "We call this type of behavior vigilantism and it is a crime. Also, we have received complaints your group has engaged in other illegal activities. Among them are, rape, murder, arson, and robbery. Do you have anything to say about these allegations, particularly the intentional targeting of people of the Islamic faith and their places of worship?" Demetrius paused to read the leader of the Watchmen's face. He didn't like what he was seeing as he awaited the young man's response.

"We have imposed law and order and we have punished those responsible for the terrible things that have happened to our country. As for everything else..." Derrick shrugged and spread his hands.

Demetrius would not have been surprised if the kid looked the other way or even participated in the atrocities taking place on his watch by the look of him. "Mr. Warren due to the current security situation we are asking you to come and turn in your arms. We are prepared to reconcile you and any of your men who may have committed these crimes before the reestablishment of authority. What do you say?"

"Sir, what I say to you is, you are trying to infringe upon my rights as an American citizen to keep and bear arms. Hell, we are even a well regulated militia. What I say Sir is, if you want my guns, you come and get them!" shouted Derrick with malice. At that, he turned around and stormed out of Demetrius's office.

A few moments later Damian walked into Demetrius's office. "Want me to tail that little prick?" Damian asked thrusting a thumb in Derrick's direction. By the look on Damian's face he probably would have done more than keep a tail on him.

"Nah, I have a feeling if we try to fight too many battles at once we will just lose all of them," Demetrius answered mournfully. "Plus we can't prove definitively either he or his group is engaged in anything more illegal than the rest of the fine citizens of Pittsburgh, despite the rumors to the contrary." Demetrius paused and then asked, "Hey, did we ever check out Jake's house after the bomb on Saturday?"

Damian thought a moment and then replied, "No, seeing as we found the remnants of his Explorer at his place of work, and he has not been answering his cell phone, we figured he must have been at work."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Demetrius yielded. He considered things deeply and then asked, "He lives in a house right down Sample Road doesn't he, or lived that is?"

"Yes Sir. So what if he did?" Damian answered clearly puzzled.

"When you can, maybe around noon, I want you and a squad of plain clothes officers from your team to check out his house. Maybe it's nothing, but I have a funny feeling we might be able to find something there. Even if his Explorer isn't there, I want you to do a knock and enter, understood?"

Damian's face was as unreadable as usual. Then he spoke, "Roger boss, I'll take Alpha and a canine to make it look like we are just taking a dog for a walk. I'll leave through the golf course so as to not alert anyone of our leaving."

"Sounds good, and be careful Damian in case I'm wrong."

Dr. Parks reached Niko and Christos Sarandos's house on Sunday evening. Trying to convince them he was who he said he was and not part of the crazed vigilante group was a bit of a chore, but he made it work. As Ned was invited up onto the porch, he looked up, he hadn't even seen Niko's daughter Maria and wife Jamie in the upstairs windows. By the looks of them they would have been just as handy with those rifles as any soldier serving in the United States Army. He was glad the Sarandos family had not joined up with those nut job Watchmen.

"Niko, Christos, it's good to see you again," Dr. Parks said with a stupidly large smile. "I'm glad you are all ok and you haven't joined up with those nut job vigilantes."

"A few of them thought I was a Turk," Niko said with disgust. To a Greek there was no greater insult than to be called a Turk. To a Greek, a Turk was everything vile and barbaric. Niko spat to show exactly how disgusted he was at the thought of good Greek man being mistaken for a dirty despicable Turk. Granted by Turk, they had actually thought he was an Arab or a Muslim and had never even muttered the word Turk, but that was beside the point. "We showed them though didn't we," Niko said as he shared a smile with Christos.

Something about their smiles told Ned no to ask about the dirt pile that seemed freshly turned in the back yard. "I was thinking you might like some help around here until things settle down. True, it has been awhile since I've been in combat, but you know what they say, once a soldier, always a soldier," Ned said with a nervous smile.

Niko looked at him with curious disbelief. Clearly short, paunchy, old academics did not fulfill his preconceived notion of what an American soldier would or should look like. "When were you a soldier Dr. Parks?" Niko asked incredulously.

"I fought in the early days of Vietnam, used the GI Bill to go back to school and become a teacher. I still know how to handle my 1911 and my M-14 though, so don't you worry," Dr. Parks answered, "And please call me Ned."

Christos said something to his father Niko in Greek. Ned cursed himself for taking Latin in school instead of Greek. Why did schools teach a dead language anyway? Niko looked to his wife and daughter who nodded before he said, "Ok Ned, come with me and I'll show you what we have to work with."

Dr. Parks followed Niko into the basement. The basement seemed smaller than it should have been. There was a steel door with a locking mechanism similar to a bulkhead on a water tight door, right down to the spinning wheel, leading to the outside. From the other side Ned assumed he would not have been able to tell how fortified this door was. To his left there was a solid concrete wall with a large steel door resembling a safe which looked incredibly sturdy. In the center of this door, was large locking mechanism with a keypad, and set to the side a bit was a handle. Niko entered in a number combination with a deftness that would have left a surgeon jealous of his dexterity. When Niko finished the combination his hand turned the handle and he pulled open the door. Niko flipped a switch and light suddenly filled the room. The inside of the room was like nothing Ned had seen since his days in the army. Rifles, shotguns, pistols, and bayonets were sitting in weapons racks. Lockers were full of ammunition of all types. There were several reloading stations with enough shot, powder, and primers to keep several armies flush with ammo from now until judgment day. If this was not an altar to the NRA and Americans taking full advantage of their second amendment rights, then there would be no other. Something large sat in the corner catching Ned's eye.

"Is that a friggin cannon?" Ned exclaimed in disbelief pointing.

Over in the corner sitting on a small gun carriage sat a small napoleon style muzzle loading cannon. The muzzle looked as though a person could fit a softball inside without too much fuss. The barrel of the gun was not all that impressive being a short three feet, maybe four. Which meant its accuracy wouldn't be all that great, even for a smooth bore gun, but it would make an amazing bad guy shredding shot gun if loaded with canister or grapeshot.

"How the hell did you get this?" Ned asked incredulously as he lightly set a hand on the barrel of the gun.

Niko started laughing, "My son and his cousin are into backyard metal casting. They were fooling around one day and cast it from aluminum, zinc, and copper. Which is what makes it strong and light for its size, and believe me it does work."

Ned did not know when, how, or where this field gun would be important, but something in him said it would.

Damian Andrews looked to his handpicked group of plain clothes police officers. Each one of them was an expert with any pistol they had ever picked up. He was glad Jake had insisted on them carrying the venerable Colt .45. The nine millimeter most police officers carried was crap. If you did not hit a person just right to kill them on the spot then it wouldn't even slow down the assailant. He felt better about carrying a pistol whose round was designed to knock over people and kill horses instead of one designed accidentally by the Lugar Company to save cash instead of retooling. A couple of the larger officers carried concealed submachine guns just in case. Those were chambered in nine millimeter, but when you shot something on full automatic it mattered little what caliber it was so long as you hit them with a lot of it. When it came to security and being prepared, Damian was not one to skimp, especially in a time like this. He brought ten men in all with him to the house. All ten of them he had served with for years on drug raids and hostage rescues so many times he could only remember the rough ones. They all were good men and would do their job no matter what. Damian didn't think they would find anyone at the house, but maybe there would be something in the house which would be useful or point them in the right direction. You never could tell after all.

Something about this house just didn't sit well with Damian. The feeling nagged at him like a canker sore in your mouth you just couldn't quit messing with. The closer he got to the house the more the feeling intensified. He tried to shrug it off as just nerves. He had been to plenty of crime scenes with plenty of dead people before. He had been to plenty of houses looking for evidence where victims had once lived too, but the person who killed Jake had shown a propensity to leave explosive traps behind. Damian did not like the vibe he was getting. Surely the terrorist mad man would have rigged the house to make sure that had his intended target survived the car bomb he would have gotten it when he got home. That was what Damian would have done in his place if he wanted to make sure Jake was dead.

"Jones, Wilson, be careful when you approach the house, we don't know what's goin on in there," Damian said. "No, this doesn't feel right at all," he thought to himself. His bones were vibrating, his skin crawled, and the hair stood up on the back of his neck and on the backs of his hands. There was no car in the drive way leading up to the garage. The door was shut and the blinds were drawn. That probably signaled Jake had been at the bar when it exploded. Jones reached a hand up and pushed the door bell. When there was no answer to the doorbell, Jones began knocking on the door. Still there was no answer. Jones reached for the door knob and turned it. Jones was about to push open the door when the realization of what was about to happen hit Damian like a freight train. Time slowed down for him and he became suddenly aware of all of his surroundings. The breeze cut threw him like a knife and he felt the chill in his bones as his heart dropped from its proper place in his chest to his stomach.

"JONES DON'T..." Damian started to yell the warning, but was cut off abruptly by an explosion. Fire and smoke leaped skyward. The sky tore in two and the ground shook. Glass shards sparkled in the air like so many unseasonable snowflakes which could be deadly if they hit you. Damian was lifted off of the ground and thrown like a ragdoll across the street. He thudded against the concrete. His head ached and his mind spun. Jones ceased to exist in an instant as did most of the rest of the squad. Those who did not cease to exist, ceased to be recognizable as human beings. They were torn apart by flying glass, overpressure, and chunks of debris. The dogs of the canine unit exploded in balls of fur and flame. As Damian lost consciousness he cursed himself for letting his men down by not listening to his gut instincts. If he could have traded spots with Jones and the rest of his squad so they could live, he would have done it in an instant without thought or regret. Now he had no team, he had no men, he had no...

When Damian came to, he was covered in blood and gore of all types. What was his blood and what was the blood of his comrades he could not be sure of. Pieces of jagged glass sparkled all around him and some sparkled on him. Or was it in him? His nose and ears he thought were bleeding, and his eyes were having a hard time focusing. He wouldn't have been surprised if he had suffered a concussion. Several car alarms were making such a racket he couldn't concentrate, yet they somehow seemed so far away. Was he dead? He blinked his eyes to clear away the blood which had been sprayed into them when he was flung across the street and made them focus in on his surroundings. He attempted to sit up but found he could not. Pain sang in electric currents from his head down through the rest of his body. He was momentarily overwhelmed by the chorus of pain that his body was singing. He tasted the warm iron of blood in his mouth unsure of whether or not it was his. He turned his head to his left and right in order to get the feel of his surroundings and to force the pain from his thoughts. Lying next to his head was the head of one of the dogs they had taken with them. The whole scene with the dog head next to him reminded him of the opening scene of the movie The Godfather with the horse head sitting in bed with that guy. What an absurd thought at a time like this? Damian chuckled. It hurt to laugh, but the more it hurt the more he seemed unable to stem the laughter.

The National Guard quick reaction force, QRF, was in route to Damian's location. It must have meant he had not been unconscious for very long...right? He thought maybe if he had those up armored vehicles it might have given his men some protection from the blast, but then again it might have tossed the entire vehicle regardless of its weight. The National Guard medics rushed over to him, the sole survivor of the blast, and began to assess his injuries. They patched some of the more immediate bleeds Damian had on his limbs and torso and then put him in the Hummvee for transport back to the fortified encampment. The ride was bumpy and the Hummvee's shocks were not all that great. Every bounce was agony, but he was damned if he would yell or let anyone else know how much pain he was in. More than a couple of the Country Club members were doctors so maybe allowing them sanctuary in the compound was more of a blessing than they could have anticipated. They would know what to do further to treat Damian. The thought comforted him as he again lost consciousness.

VII

"Hello and good morning, I am Jeff Goodwin on the scene," the newscaster began. His looks had once been the picture of American journalism. He was clean cut and well shaved, he wore his hair neatly parted to the side in a stylish manner. He was captivating and held himself with dignified poise and kept himself at an emotional distance from the story. Judging by his looks today though, he might have been a bum off of the street. His hair was disheveled and his tie was loose and cocked to one side revealing his dirty white shirt was not buttoned correctly. He clearly had not shaved in at least a day or two and he had large bags under his eyes which could have been either from a lack of sleep or a hangover, who knew, maybe it was both. He stood slouched over with a distant look on his face and for the first time in years an anchorman was smoking on national television. Walter Cronkite would have to be spinning in his grave over this one. Although, if it was true you could take the pulse of America by looking at its news media, then how he looked would have been right on the money.

"The events of this weekend and early this week have been devastating on both Wall Street and Main Street. Monday saw the largest fall on the Dow Jones and NASDAQ in the past seventy years," said the newsman pausing to take a puff from a cigarette. "The FDIC, or Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation, has just declared itself as being insolvent. The run on the banks this week by armed gunmen and law abiding citizens alike has bankrupted most major and minor banks and over extended the FDIC to the point of collapse. Yesterday, to further exacerbate the nation's woes, the Chinese government demanded to collect on all of the Treasury Bonds and Treasury Bills they currently hold in the United States. This debt collection has driven the value of the dollar to the lowest point it has been since the Great Depression. Many other countries with money invested in US securities and bonds have also cashed in. This is truly unfortunate as it leaves the country with no cash reserves and little to bargain with. America's credit rating has been downgraded as a result of the rush making it impossible to meet all of the government's obligations. State and Federal authorities alike have begun to issue IOUs to workers and creditors. The United Nations voted unanimously to move their headquarters from New York City to Geneva given the current instability in this region. The UN will convene a special session as of sometime next week to discuss the woes in the United States and any possible actions which can be taken to assist. As violence continues in the streets of America's major and minor cities without reprieve we continue to ask ourselves, when the end of our suffering will be in sight."

Just then the gunfire which could be heard in the background noise began to noticeably pick up. Tracer rounds began to zip behind the news man back and forth in a crazed light show of lethal consequences. To the viewer it must have been reminiscent of reports from previous conflicts in the third world coming from Baghdad, Bosnia, or Kandahar. Ricochets sang off of metal and concrete alike. Explosions began to ring out, not the great kind heralding the destruction of a gas station, but smaller grenade or pipe bomb type explosions. The camera bobbed and weaved from the cameraman running for cover. A wet sickening smack could be heard and then the camera stopped moving and fell. The camera continued filming the melee from the ground on its side. In the fore ground a pool of blood was quickly forming from what must have been the cameraman's head or neck. Jeff Goodwin could be seen cowering in a doorway the cameraman had not quite made it in to. He was looking in horror right passed the camera. His shirt was spattered with the other man's blood. He was screaming with tears running down his terror stricken face without his seeming to notice as he assumed a fetal position in the doorway.

Further away the battle was raging on. Neither side wore any specific uniform, but it looked as if one side was a gang all wearing blue shirts or having something blue hanging off of their belt. The other side wore a red bandana tied around their right upper arms. For the time being it looked like the blue side had the advantage as they were defending a house the red group seemed intent on taking. This image quickly became the breaking news across the country and throughout the world playing live. Those who watched and those who would later take notice learned it was the most watched image in the world, outpacing the fall of the Berlin Wall by millions.

Derrick had never fought before, but today he led the fight. He added a few rounds of his own into the air from an AR-15 he had managed to get a hold of. He didn't have any target he was specifically shooting at, but figured the extra lead in the air couldn't hurt. He had done his job cleaning up the suburbs of trouble makers and now he had to go into the city and clear out those trouble makers too. Before undertaking this task he decided each of his Watchmen should wear a red arm band around their upper right arms to distinguish themselves from the riff raff they were going to exterminate. One tidbit of advice he had pick up and firmly believed in was, "friendly fire isn't". He had learned from sources inside the city, who wanted the sanctuary only he could provide, the mayor was being held in a house on the North Side on one of the Mexican War streets. The gang who had taken him wanted to ransom him off to the governor in exchange for weapons, money, and drugs. "Filthy charlatans," Derrick muttered.

In all honesty Derrick could not have cared one way or another for the mayor's safety, but what he did care about was the competition gaining strength in the city. He also realized the public relations extravaganza he would garner for rescuing the poor helpless mayor. They would sing his praises and reward him justly. He would be the hero Jake could only have wished he could have been. Then, if Libbi were still alive and she saw the news, then she would go running back to him the way she had run to that bastard Jake Church. The only difference is he would appreciate her and love her in a way Jake could never have been able to. He deserved her and knew her worth more than any man ever could. Why couldn't that asshole have just fucked the stupid slut of a roommate Melani and be done with it? Why did he have to infringe on his sovereign territory? Derrick drew a bead on a gang member who was holding a pistol sideways and then fired a burst into the man's chest. The man dropped his pistol with blood coming out of his chest and pouring down his mouth. Soon he fell to his knees and then fell to his face never to rise again. Derrick smiled.

Derrick watched the battle before him and relished in the thought that he controlled this chaos. He wanted to see more of this filth perish at his hand. "Jeremy, is your team in place?" Derrick asked into the radio.

"Give me three more minutes and we'll hit'em like they ain't never been hit before," Jeremy replied through the radio.

"Ok, when you're ready give the signal," Derrick said.

Derrick's almost history degree was coming in handy as a militia commander. He knew from studying countless battles over time, if you could distract an enemy long enough on a smaller force, you could send a larger force into their flank and destroy them. This was the tactic he was employing today, a tactic as old as warfare itself, too bad for the gang who were clearly inferior adversaries. Any real army or real soldiers would have seen this coming and prepared accordingly. He would have Jeremy's team flank by means of a parallel street and then he would post his sharp shooters in a building to provide plunging fire upon this band ragamuffins. Why was it gang members thought by punching as they pulled the trigger on a pistol they could somehow be more effective? No matter, it meant more of his Watchmen would live as a result of their folly. The Watchmen rigged a couple of their RPK rifles they had purchased legally as single shot weapons, into fully automatic weapons with relative ease. Most of these weapons were with Derrick's group, as were most of the improvised grenades, so as to make the appearance this was the main thrust of the attack. It did the trick. Not one of the gang members could take their eyes off of the enemy directly in front of them.

"Ok we are in position, shift your fire to the left," Jeremy said. Jeremy Adkins had been in the army for a few years as an infantryman before today, but got out when he hurt his back on a botched jump from a C-130. Apparently someone thought it would be a good idea to pack parachutes while he was drunk. Several surgeries and a lengthy recovery later, the military gave him a medical discharge. Today Jeremy led the assault force and provided most of the tactical advice to his new commander Derrick Warren. Jeremy thought what Derrick had been saying for so long, had made so much sense, and what he wanted was what the country so desperately needed. As a result, Jeremy joined up with the Watchmen after reading their manifesto on the internet. It seemed as though this dorky looking kid from the suburbs of Pittsburgh had the right idea when it came to most things. Soon the action before Jeremy pulled his attention back to the battle. As soon as the shooting shifted to the left he yelled to his group to open fire. No, they did not have military discipline when it came to fire control, but they were eager and most of them were decent shots from years of deer and small game hunting.

Gang members wearing blue were caught by total surprise. Not one person in the gaggle had been looking to their left, and few had adequate cover from above. When they were cut down, Jeremy's group provided cover for Derrick's group to advance. Derrick had been very explicit in his wanting to be the first person to see the mayor and been seen rescuing him. Watchmen flooded into the building, more shots could be heard ringing out from inside. Then all was quiet.

Derrick was running up the stairs, his security lagging behind. He did not know he had this kind of stamina in him. It had to be the adrenaline coursing through his veins, setting them on fire. The little muscles his body sported were wound tight as springs, his hearing was made more acute and his senses focused. Combat was exhilarating in ways he could have never imagined. Maybe it was the anticipation of the kill or maybe it was the possibility of being killed, either way, it was more of a rush than he could have ever conceived. More gunfire from the inside came from a stairwell which separated Derrick from his entourage behind him. Derrick dove into a room and kicked the door shut behind him. He had confidence his men would make short work of the bastards, if not it wasn't as if he didn't have a rifle of his own. As luck would have it though, he had dove into the very room in which the mayor was being held. He was bound with duct tape and gagged. Derrick locked the door behind him. No one was going to deny him his victory.

"Mr. Mayor," Derrick said as he peeled the tape from the mayor's mouth. "My name is Derrick Warren and I command the Watchmen in this area," Derrick said with a pride and arrogance even George Armstrong Custer would have been ashamed of. "We have come to rescue you because your law enforcement and National Guardsmen are too weak and unwilling to do so themselves. We learned where you were and took appropriate actions to ensure your safety."

"Is that so Mr. Warren?" the mayor asked. "Then where may I ask did you get the machine guns and the grenades?"

"We modified some single shot weapons and we built the grenades, it's quite easy in fact," Derrick said with a smile. He was going to flaunt his superior intellect and ingenuity in front of the mayor like a displaying peacock.

"Mr. Warren, not that I am ungrateful for the rescue, but you know by modifying those weapons and by building those bombs you committed a federal crime?" asked the mayor. "Why did you not just pass the information over to the proper authorities so this wouldn't be misconstrued as vigilantism and so you wouldn't have to risk your lives?"

"I am the proper authority now," Derrick said coldly the smile fleeing from his face. "Why didn't the mayor understand that?" he thought to himself.

"I see, well then will you please untie me so we can get the hell out of here?" the mayor pleaded. The gunfire was beginning to die down in the hallway, Derrick's men would be to the door soon if he wasn't mistaken. He took out his knife to cut the mayor's bonds and then bent down on one knee to look him in the eye.

"What is to become of us when we get out of here? How are you planning to reward us?" Derrick asked searching the mayor's face. Derrick wanted to hear it from the man himself how he and his group would be recognized and legitimized for all the good he had done. He wanted accolades and song. He wanted the glory befitting someone of his importance.

"Well...you'll be properly rewarded of course," the mayor said.

Derrick leaned closer to the mayor's face. He leaned so close their noses almost touched as he searched the mayor's expression. The mayor could smell the smell of stale cigarettes coming off of Derrick's breath. Derrick could smell the sweet smell of fear and the odious smell of deceit coming from the mayor in waves. After all he had done to save the mayor, the lousy bastard was going to cheat him. He was going to treat him like a common criminal no better than the ones he had just slain in front of and inside of this building to rescue his sorry ass.

"Okay Mr. Mayor, are you ready?" Derrick asked.

"Yes, yes, please," the mayor said holding his bound hands out.

"Okay you asked for it," Derrick said malice dripping from his voice.

"Wait, what?" the mayor said with sudden alarm.

Just then Derrick swung the blade across the throat of the mayor. The blade was so sharp and well honed he barely felt any resistance as he finished the strike. Blood sprayed from the gash in the mayor's neck against the wall. The mayor sputtered eyes wide with surprise and terror. When he tried to speak only a raspy whistling came out of the gash in his neck. His mouth continued to quietly attempt to say the words "why?" Derrick continued to watch the mayor die with cruel indifference. A half smile touched Derrick's lips.

"You should have just been grateful Mr. Mayor," Derrick said coldly. "You should have just realized, I am the law now and I am not to be trifled with. My rewards are great and terrible are my retributions."

The mayor collapsed in a pool of his own blood, his face quickly turning grey and then a shade of white. His eyes began to glaze over and he stopped sputtering. Derrick suddenly realized the shooting outside had stopped entirely. He wiped the still dripping blade on one of the few clean spots still on the mayor's shirt and then put it away. He took two quick steps to the door and unlocked it and then returned to the mayor's side.

"Hey quick get in here, the mayor has been assassinated! I need help!" Derrick yelled in mock panic. No one would keep him from his rightful place of power and glory, no one.

Demetrius Raines stood over his friend Damian who was recovering from his wounds in the makeshift hospital ward in the ball room section of the country club. He was worse for wear to put it mildly, but he would make it. Blood welled up through some of the bandages on his body and his head was in a neck brace in case he had sustained neck trauma. Without an x-ray machine even the best of doctors only had guesses to work with. The civilian doctors tending to him said he was lucky. They had not seen someone take that much trauma, or lose so much blood, in a long time and still be alive. If it wasn't a testament to Damian's resilience and fortitude, then he didn't know what would be. The rest of the squad though was gone, and it had been Demetrius's fault. He had sent them there. Demetrius bit back tears of guilt, despair, and regret.

"How could I have been so blind, so stupid?" he said quietly to himself. Because he had wanted to check out his already dead friend's house he had gone and sacrificed another ten men and who knew how his friend Damian would pull through.

"Quit being such a pussy," Damian mumbled around bandages from his makeshift hospital bed. The grizzled Greek was still going to be tough as nails, regardless of the immense pain and he was damned if he was going to show it. Glass and other bits of flying debris had cut him up pretty badly. The flash from the fire had singed his eyebrows and eyelashes down into non-existence. Mercifully the burns on his face were probably not bad enough to leave his face horribly scarred.

"Why don't you quit being such a hard ass," Demetrius said with a smile. "We'll get the asshole that did this to you, mark my words Damian, we will." Demetrius wanted blood. He wanted the blood of this terrorist madman who would kill so indiscriminately. A man who had killed his men, wounded one of his friends terribly, and killed another. This man would pay dearly.

"Blah, blah, blah," Damian replied. "Let's survive first, recover the city second, and then we can find the asshole if we have time left." He was very pragmatic, even after all he had been through he still understood the big picture better than anyone else. He could separate his feelings from the task at hand. What was the use of capturing one villain if you still couldn't fix all the other underlying problems which allowed him to rise?

"Sir, I think you should see this," said Harris from behind Demetrius interrupting the conversation with Damian. He was pointing to the television.

"What's going on?" Demetrius asked. He walked up to the television and saw a young woman taking the place of the now familiar Jeff Goodwin.

"Good afternoon I'm Bernadette Simmons standing in for Jeff Goodwin. Today there was a clash on the North Side of Pittsburgh between a gang holding the mayor captive and the vigilante group which is called The Watchmen. Sources say sometime last night an individual knowing of the mayor's location came to the Watchmen's leader and told him where the mayor was being held. The leader of the Watchmen goes by the name Derrick Warren, who has not been able to be reached for comment at this time. The beginning of this fierce gun battle was shown earlier today incidentally by Jeff Goodwin while giving an update for the morning news. His camera man, Ben Wilson, was caught by a stray bullet and killed instantly. It is still unclear which side fired the fatal shot, but our prayers go out to his family. What is clear, not a single member of the gang made it away from the battle alive. Some looked to have been executed after the struggle with their hands bound behind their backs and a single gunshot wound to the back of the head. This is believed to have been ordered by none other than the commander of the Watchmen, Derrick Warren, in reprisal for the gang's alleged murder of the mayor. The mayor appears to have been killed by having his throat cut by one of the gang member's, or so the vigilante group Watchmen says. The real question on everybody's mind tonight though is this, where are the authorities, and when will the safety and security of our town once again be restored?"

"Did you hear that Sir?" Harris asked in disbelief. "They killed the mayor."

"Why do I have a feeling things are about to get a hell of a lot worse," Demetrius said ruefully.

"Can you believe the gang would just go and kill the mayor like that?" Harris asked again.

"No, actually I can't," Demetrius answered with a frown. He shook his head and sighed.

"What do you mean Sir?" Harris asked.

"What I mean is, I think that nutcase Warren killed him," Demetrius said.

"Why would he go and do something like that though Sir? If he rescued the mayor, then he would have been a hero," Harris said.

"I think Derrick might not have got the answers out of the mayor he was hoping for," Demetrius replied. "How's getting the wire set up around our perimeter going?"

"We should be done by the end of the night Sir," Harris answered.

"Good, because unless I missed my guess, we might be in for it in the not so distant future," said Demetrius. No he wouldn't be caught unawares, not this time.

Ned Parks was listening to the radio while he was on watch at the Sarandos house. Ned sat in the front room and pulled security on the front door and the drive way. If someone decided to get frisky and break in the front door, they would get a load of buckshot to the chest. It didn't matter who you were or if you were wearing body armor or not, an ounce of lead hitting you point blank in the chest would knock your ass down. Dr. Parks still could not believe the mayor had been assassinated and dwelt on it ever since he heard about it on the radio.

Consequently, what neither he nor the Sarandos family believed was the gang had done it. What would they have to gain from executing the mayor without getting anything in return? Why would they fight to defend a building which no longer held anything of value? Granted to be in a gang meant you probably did not have too much common sense, but this was still too far out to be an even remotely plausible scenario. Ned personally believed the Watchmen leader had murdered him for some reason. There was just something not right with that Derrick Warren. He had too many qualities of a cult leader. He was too eager to grab power, and too quick to pass judgment and blame to others. If you were with him then you were part of the solution, if you were not with him then you were part of the problem and therefore his enemy. Maybe that was the reason he had done it, maybe the mayor stood in his way somehow. Dr. Parks lingered on this train of thought for a while, when the radio switched from the music to the news.

"This is KDKA news and we have an important update on the crisis gripping the nation and gripping our city especially hard," the newswoman said. "The vigilante group, calling themselves the Watchmen, has gained full control of down town Pittsburgh. Public executions of gang members and other criminals are taking place all over the city. Many minority groups the Watchmen suspect of various crimes are being herded into the Melon Arena for detention."

As the newswoman from KDKA spoke Dr. Parks' concern grew more and more. "He is a mad man!" Dr. Parks exclaimed. If things keep going the way they were going, then Ned and the Sarandos family would have to find more reinforcements. This little hold out wouldn't do if those nut jobs decided to get serious about taking it from them.

"We were unable to reach Mr. Warren for comment, but his group sent us a release to be read on air, and it says. Order has once again been restored. We, the Watchmen, will continue to keep the hard fought order so the peace loving people of this city will be able to continue about their business without fear. The government has abandoned you. Your neighbors have abandoned you. Your police have abandoned you. The government cannot protect themselves let alone protect you. They were unable to save the mayor. They were unwilling to even try to save him. We did what they could not or would not. Not even the late Jake Church could protect you. We actually have evidence linking him to being the terrorist from the beginning, in an attempt to gain honor and prestige. The car bomb that exploded at his place of work was in his truck. A drunk driver struck it and set it off accidentally when it failed to stop at the intersection, but the government covered it up to spare themselves the humiliation of honoring a murderer. His house exploded later on from the stockpile of extra bomb making material he had hidden there. If he is still alive this would only further prove his guilt. We the Watchmen have spent great time, sweat, and blood to restore order and we are prepared to sacrifice yet more on the altar of freedom to protect it. We can and will protect you. If you comply with the orders given to you by my Watchmen then no harm will come to you and peace will be restored. Across the nation other Watchmen groups are doing what is necessary in order to restore peace and civility to the country. We are the law. Everyone who is not a Watchman and is still bearing arms they shall turn them in immediately as this is the only way to ensure an enduring peace can be restored. Do not violate our law or your punishment will be a terrible one indeed. Comply with our law and the nation will be stronger than ever. In God we Trust."

"Good God!" Ned exclaimed in disbelief at what he was hearing. "Niko, Christos wake up!" he shouted.

Niko and Christos came running into the area Ned was guarding. "What's going on?" they asked in unison, rifles at the ready.

"The vigilantes have taken control of the city, and if what they are saying is true, they are making a power grab for the country as a whole," Ned answered. Niko's face was grim. Christos muttered something in Greek and then did the Orthodox cross. "What do we do?" Ned asked.

"I think it would be wise to find the troops still loyal to the country and the Constitution," Niko answered. "We load what we can into the van and the other car and then we head to the police outpost set up off of Sample Road. If any Watchmen lackeys try to stop us, we kill them."

"In other related news," the news woman continued. "The President, from an undisclosed location, has issued a statement as well, and it reads. While these groups have been able to end some of the violence gripping our country, they are still a vigilante group. Vigilantism has been and will remain a crime in this nation. We will not tolerate armed bands of gunmen roaming our streets. If the vigilantes agree to disarm and hand over control of the cities to the proper authorities, then and only then, can they be reconciled and true peace be restored. I have given them twenty four hours from the time of this broadcast to comply, disperse and to lay down their arms. If they choose not to, then they are a clear and present danger to the Constitution of the United States of America and they will be pursued with the full might this nation can bring to bear. We are in a difficult and tragic time, the most difficult since the events of September the eleventh or maybe even as far back as the early days of the Civil War. We cannot and will not repeat the mistakes of the past and we will not be blackmailed or terrorized. In an effort to put our own house in order, I have ordered the full withdrawal of American military forces currently deployed overseas. If it comes to pass, I will use the full might and power given to me by the American people to restore order. It pains me greatly, but if this type of behavior continues I will issue a proclamation of martial law which will allow for the deployment of federal troops on the American homeland under the Insurrection Act of 1807. Thank you and God Bless America."

Ned's head was spinning. Armed gunmen had usurped many local governments across the nation. The police and other law enforcement agencies were in over their heads, many had been actually defeated in pitched battles. The President of the United States, the only truly free country in the world, was going to issue an order to deploy federal troops against their own people for the first time since the end of the Civil War without the consent of the legislature or a governor. Granted there really were no functioning state governments anymore, but this was still unprecedented. The economy had collapsed utterly. No one was coming to America's aide in their moment of need, in fact most countries were rejoicing at the fall of the last great superpower. Ned imagined this must have been what a Roman citizen felt like when the Vandals had gone marauding through their capital with no aide or end in sight. For the first time in Ned Parks' adult life, he began to pray.

When nightfall came, Dr. Ned Parks and the Sarandos family loaded up the vehicles with weapons, ammunition, and supplies and headed for the outpost the National Guard and the remnants of the police force had established. With a little luck they would get there and with a little more luck, maybe the indivisible nation would remain so. It was a dark time with no clear end in sight.

VIII

The Angel of Death reveled and danced with glee. The so called "leader of the free world" had issued an order that could only be construed as totalitarian. If there was one thing Americans could not and would not stand for it was despotism. Americans jealously protected their freedoms, how would they re-act to their leader declaring their freedoms were to be suspended? The end of Babylon the Great was near, judgment and repentance was at hand. The will of the Almighty was being accomplished as it had been told to him by Him. The random car bombs and truck bombs seemed to have had an effect greater than his original intentions. Some of the trucks, when they had detonated, took out truck stations and bridges and blocked tunnels. Watchmen were taking control of Pennsylvania and various other militias had taken control of other regions of the country. Perhaps the Michigan Militia would realize they needed faith in the True God in order to be successful this time around, or perhaps they would have to be judged as well, who knew. Everything was going to be put to rights. Soon every damned soul would repent for their lives of sin and debauchery. Soon they would return to the true faith the faith of our Father, soon...

"Babylon all of your allies have forgotten you. Where is your glory, oh Babylon, where is your might!" recited the Angel of Death. He took out his pack of cigarettes and put one in his mouth. He took out his book of matches and lit one and then drew in the first deep breath of beautiful tobacco. He exhaled the smoke a man free of man's tyranny and oppression. He breathed free air mingled with the delicious aroma of his Marlboro Red.

Truly though America's allies had forgotten her. In her moment of greatest need the other nations of the world America had once helped, fostered, and protected passed by on the other side of the road just as the priest and the temple assistant had. Could there even be a Good Samaritan left in this depraved world? The Angel of Death thought the answer was a firm and resounding no. Drug cartels were attempting to gain territory of their own in Texas, they would have a bit of work ahead of them though as most Texans were armed to the teeth and not shy about shooting first and asking questions later. If the Texans wanted to punish evil men then perhaps some of them could be reconciled to the true faith. The poison dealers would have to be dealt with after all. Did not the Lord demand each man treat his body as a temple?

Every nation who had its money invested in the United States and its currency was in a panic. They had pulled all of their money from her and they had called in all of her debts to be paid. Were not these nations like the servant who demanded his debt be paid when his master had forgiven the man's greater debts? They left her to die and waited to feast on her flesh like so many vultures of the sky and rats of the earth. The other faithless nations of the world had expedited the Angel of Death's agenda quicker than he could have ever hoped to accomplish on his own. The Dark Angel would spread his blackened wings over those nations one day too, but first he had to return America to a nation under God. After he had America back to being a member of the faith, then he would be in a position to bring the rest of the world back into the fold whether or not they liked it.

What was truly fortuitous for the Angel of Death was idiots had taken to the street and were blaming their fellow man. The type of mob justice and killing of the innocents in a way which hadn't been done since the Dark Ages was what truly pointed to how evil the world had become. One side burned mosques and killed Muslims. Another side would burn synagogues and kill Jews and yet another side was attacking the Christians and desecrating their churches. As this "civilization" continued to sink into depravity he would continue to target the frail infrastructure of Babylon it had allowed to wither since the Great Depression. He had derailed no less than ten trains using the smallest of explosives or by simply taking up parts of the track to be used later as shrapnel. Raw materials from trains and trucks were not going to be making any cross country journeys in the near future. How would America's great cities survive without any new supplies? The false economy of man would fall and the economy of God would rise finally to fulfill its rightful place.

The FAA had grounded all air traffic for fear airplanes would be targeted next, what fools they were. Had the Dark Angel wanted to strike at the air he would have done it already, but he restrained himself in order to ensure too many innocent children would not perish. Maritime trade was steering away from Babylon's shores for fear their earthly goods would not make it to market. One day he would use the seas to bring the fight to far away shores, but not yet. He smiled at the fear of material loss people had, and then scowled at the fact they did not have the same fear when it came to spiritual loss. Soon enough they would learn though...soon enough.

It was a Saturday and the world hadn't fallen apart yet. Jake was having his cigarette outside of his house before work while the girls were inside cleaning up the dishes after the dinner he made. He stood their mulling over the thought of going to work tonight. Of course this was hours before the bomb went off, a few hours after which he would be pronounced dead to the world and a day before the world fell apart. He didn't know this yet, how could he, although something had told him he should just stay home, but Jake felt he couldn't just stay home while he still had responsibilities to take care of. He wanted to be with the girls tonight, but how would he pay his bills if all he did this weekend was have sex? He smiled at the possibility. Not this weekend, but soon.

Before working over the thought any further, his mind wandered back to the task before him as a task force leader after his draft into the police force. Life often times was stranger than fiction. He exhaled a lung full of smoke. Maybe Hal would have an idea on how to spot the guy who was blowing things up left and right, and why he was going after gas stations of all things. Hal Jones had a way of knowing people and knowing what to look for in a way most people didn't. This was why Jake had become so incredibly fond of his adopted drunk of a stepdad, as he liked to think of him. Mr. Jones had been so many places and seen so many things because no one had ever thought twice about talking around him, which allowed him tremendous insight into people's motivations and thought processes most people could not fathom.

"Well, I guess I'll just have to bounce ideas off him tonight," Jake said to himself. The only thing Jake didn't know was, he would never actually get to use any of wise old Mr. Jones's knowledge. He too, would be amongst the victims of the madman bomber who was to destroy Magoo's Bar and Grille this evening. Hal's vice of drinking would be the death of him, not by cirrhosis, liver cancer, or liver failure, but by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hal was as proud of Jake as any father could have been for their biological son. It was not his heroics or his sexual prowess with the two girls that led Mr. Jones to be proud of him. It was Jake's kindness and empathy for an old man who was down on his luck. Jake's warm heart was what Mr. Jones was most proud of. The last thing Mr. Jones would ever say on this earth was the toast Jake had offered him Friday night before he had gone home with Libbi and Melani.

Libbi and Melani loaded the dish washing machine and put away the leftovers fairly quickly. Libbi put aside any misgivings she might have had for Melani. Melani had a right to love Jake just as much as she did. The idea Melani might actually love him more because he was the only man she actually could say she had ever loved, occurred to Libbi as being likely. Libbi believed her too when she said she wouldn't try to change anything. The look in her eyes told Libbi as long as Jake wanted the both of them, Melani would be eager to please him. Libbi began to wonder if she would always feel the same way as her friend did or if she would eventually want all of him or none of him. No matter, for all Libbi knew, it could be years away. Besides there was something therapeutic about putting things in order and making things clean letting Libbi relax and to stop thinking about anything serious. It was then she got an idea.

"Hey Mel, think fast," Libbi said as she sprayed Melani with the spray hose from the sink. Melani was hit in the chest with a burst of warm water from the hose and her shirt quickly became nearly transparent. Libbi laughed at her playful prank.

"Ooooh, you little hussy!" Melani exclaimed with a giggle. She could see what Libbi was doing and thought it could be a fun game herself. She jumped for Libbi's arm and wrestled the sprayer away from her. Melani then turned the hose on Libbi and wetted down her shirt as well. They both started laughing at this play fight spraying one another in the mean time. An impromptu wet t-shirt contest had just broken out in the kitchen. Melani thought Jake might have liked to be a judge. Given the fun the last time the two of them had seen each other's breasts, Melani and Libbi were actually getting a little more than turned on just by themselves.

"Hey Mel, I've got an idea, play cool," Libbi said. Melani nodded and waited for Libbi's next move. "Hey Jake we need your help in here, we're sorry but something broke and we don't have shoes on!" Libbi yelled. They both hushed laughs behind their hands as they waited for their hero to come bumbling into their trap like George of the Jungle.

Jake came bounding into the room unsuspecting of the ambush style bath he was about to receive. As he rounded the corner Melani tackled him to the ground and wrapped her shapely legs around his torso. Stunned, Jake hit the floor and was still trying to make sense of things when he heard something from Melani's lips.

"Get him Lib!" Melani shouted playfully. Libbi sprayed them both down, but the wetness made Melani's grasp around Jake's waist slip and he was able to recover.

"Oh you two are in trouble now," Jake said water dripping down his face which was all smiles. All three of them were laughing like school kids in a water fight. "I gotta go to work tonight you know."

"So what are you gunna do about it tough guy?" Libbi teased. She stuck out her tongue. Melani followed suit by mooning him. With quickness Libbi didn't know Jake had in him, he picked her up by the waist and then scooped up Melani as well. Libbi imagined this was how it was when cavemen took a wife. The thought made her giggle some more. Nothing could have made tonight any better...well almost nothing...

Kicking, laughing, and mock screaming, Jake hauled them down the hall to the bathroom and shoved them in the tub. Not to be outdone by the girls with the sink sprayer, Jake turned the shower on the girls who were still fully dressed. Jake watched as their clothes began to cling to their shapely forms. The site momentarily made him freeze in place which was enough of an opportunity to allow the girls to promptly pull him in as well. Warm water poured from the shower head soaking the three in the shower. They took each other's drenched clothes off and threw them outside of the shower. There he experienced something he never would have thought possible. How could he have been so lucky? They all were so caught up in the moment that no one even thought about the cell phones which now lay ruined in the puddles of their clothes in the sink and strewn on the floor of the bathroom. He never did make it to work that night, nor did he call. If the boss fired him then he'd just live off of what the police paid him. What was the worst that could happen?

Melani awoke in Jake's protective arms and smiled. Sure she had been with more muscular men and men who were better, from a technical standpoint in bed, but he gave her something no one else had, which made him the best of all, love and respect. Libbi was asleep on his other arm. Mel hoped one day Jake would not need the both of them to be happy and would only need her, but as long as he was happy with their peculiar arrangement she wouldn't do anything to jeopardize his happiness. She got up still stark naked and headed for the kitchen. Considering the only clothes she had with her were currently in a wet pile in the bathroom, she really didn't have much choice until Jake offered her a shirt or something. Considering all they had done since they got home was have sex, clothing seemed a little extraneous anyhow.

Melani had a knack for walking into another person's kitchen and knowing exactly where they kept the coffee. Most mornings this was a necessity as she was horribly hung-over, this morning though she just wanted to make coffee and a small breakfast for her man to wake up to. She never felt the need to be domestic before, but she didn't mind it this morning. Granted this particular task would be a little difficult to perform naked, as she would have to make things which wouldn't spatter thoroughly ruling out making bacon. Out of the corner of her eye she saw an apron hanging off of the other side of the refrigerator. She smiled, what guy wouldn't like to be served breakfast in bed by a woman only wearing an apron? The only thing that could have made the scene better was if it was a French maid's apron. Then again, if he had a French maid apron hanging in his closet, he would probably have some other skeletons hanging out in there too, and probably wouldn't have been all that interested in the girls.

Melani took great care as to not burn herself as she made the eggs, coffee, and toast. She gathered up the three portions she prepared on to a tray and took them to her sleeping beloved and her friend turned part time lover. She was starting to warm up to the idea of making love to a woman and Libbi was one hell of a woman. Melani pushed open the bedroom door and then opened the blinds carefully to allow in only a portion of the new day's light into the room. The smell of the coffee and gentle light stirred Jake and Libbi from their slumber.

"Wow Mel you didn't have to do this," Jake said sleepily with gratitude.

"I know I didn't have to, I wanted to," Melani said with a smile as she handed Jake his cup of coffee. Jake took a sip of the coffee and smiled. Melani knew her way around a coffee pot alright.

"This is much better than anything I ever had in the service," Jake said with a contented smile. Just then he really got look at her and his eyes got wide with surprise. "Wow again Mel you are a dream incarnate," Jake said with a chuckle. "Come here so I can kiss the cook."

Melani made a show of bending over to give him a kiss as well as to give him a good look at her shapely body partially hidden behind the apron. Libbi was still half asleep, but saw the show and found she liked it too. Libbi realized she liked being with Mel much more than she would have ever imagined, in fact she thought she could have probably just been Mel and had a good time.

"Hey Mel where is my good morning kiss?" Libbi said with a playful smile. Melani leaned over and gave her a kiss on the lips as well.

"Breakfast can wait a little bit," Jake said enticed.

"No, it will get cold so you will just have to wait until you are finished with your breakfast mister before you get your dessert," Melani said as she blew him a kiss.

Jake smiled and then said, "Okay, okay fine I'll eat up like a good boy." Then Jake paused and winked saying, "Take that as you will."

"Breakfast first," Melani said with conviction. "It is the most important meal of the day you know."

"Okay, okay fine," Jake relented. "Do you mind if I turn on the news for a little bit and see what has been goin on since we went to bed?"

Melani and Libbi looked at each other and then shrugged. Jake reached for the remote control and turned on the television. The newscaster Jeff Goodwin was standing in front of another gas station which had been blown to hell and gone.

"Damn it," Jake said. It did look like he would be busy sooner than he expected. Jeff Goodwin man on the scene was also talking about how all schools had been closed after many had been burned to the ground.

"Do you think this is just one bad guy?" Libbi asked Jake with a voice full of concern.

"I don't rightfully know to be honest with you darling," Jake said. Then something the newsman said chilled him to the bone.

"Behind me is what is left of Magoo's Bar and Grille, as you can see not much was left after the explosion. Sources say a vehicle was used as a bomb and was rammed through the front door of the bar. Most of you will remember the "Hero of Hampton" Jake Church worked as a bartender at this very bar," the newscaster took a moment to steel himself for the next line. "Sources also say Mr. Church was scheduled to work last evening and is believed to be amongst the dead..."

"Holy shit," Jake muttered. "If the two of you hadn't jumped me last night we would all be dead right now."

Melani and Libbi looked in disbelief at the television. "What do we do?" They asked in unison.

"Well," Jake said as he paused to gather his thoughts, "What we need to do is get out of here. If that guy wants me dead, he either has done something to the house or will. I have some clothes for you girls to get into and some guns."

"What?" Libbi asked in disbelief. Could this really be happening? Had the world fallen apart that quickly? "I've never even touched a gun before."

"Okay Jake, just tell me what to do and I'll do it," Melani said. If someone had just tried to kill her man and wanted to make another attempt then she would make sure whoever it was would have to go through her first. She felt her blood rising hot in her cheeks and coursing through her body like an Amazon.

"First thing we have to do is get dressed in stuff that will work outside, then we get ourselves some supplies and we have to try and get to my friend Demetrius, got it?" Jake asked. He held a command tone in his voice, which left little to question. This was the first time Melani had heard it and she felt comforted, Libbi had only heard this tone once before when they had first met which let her slip back into a comforted obedience.

The three of them got dressed in cargo pants and tough shirts. Jake put on his old uniform and boots, the girls put on their shoes which they had taken off before their impromptu bath. Jake handed out pistols to the girls and a pair of rifles. He tucked his .45 into a drop leg holster and grabbed his tactical shotgun. They each donned a backpack full of water, ammo, and non-perishable food. In addition Jake carried enough field craft gear to keep them comfortable for the next couple of days outside. Discovering their cell phones were trashed during their escapades last night, they would have to skirt the wood lines in order to find someone who was trustworthy enough to get a cell phone from. Jake had Libbi leave her car in his garage, if the bad guy wanted him dead badly enough to blow up an entire bar then he wouldn't trust anything he had to start.

They left out a back window in his bed room just in case any of the doors had been rigged to explode, this turned out to be one of the smartest decisions he made in all of his born days as all of the doors were rigged to explode. They spent the next couple of days hidden in the woods and only moving at night. With the chaos unfolding around them Jake didn't want to chance being seen moving in broad daylight. If the bad guy thought he was dead, then it meant he wasn't going to be looking for him.

Jeremy Adkins had been essential to the rise of the Watchmen to the prominence it now enjoyed. His tactical know how and ability to lead men was invaluable to the movement and its exalted leader Derrick Warren. As a result Derrick elevated him to the rank of Commander of Tactical Forces. As the commander he would oversee all of the militia to best achieve the Watchmen leader's intent when it came to conflict. If another rival group reared its head, Jeremy was to be the man to see how best to decapitate it and then go to work doing it. He enjoyed wild success in pacifying the suburbs and then Pittsburgh proper over this past week. Who knew there would be so little resistance? It had taken his unit months to take a comparable sized city in Iraq the last time he had been overseas. Everything was going well. Everything was being put to rights. Or so he thought.

Even though Jeremy enjoyed such wild successes his conscience began to weigh on him heavily. Executing the gang was one thing, they had brutally murdered the mayor after all, but the seemingly random executions of ordinary citizens for small infractions just didn't seem right. Everyone who rose in arms against him deserved to die, but those who just had guns to protect their families from looters was a little over the line. They had a right to defend themselves didn't they?

Jeremy also had no love or use for illegal immigrants in this country. All of those extra undocumented people had dragged this country down as far as he was concerned. They drained welfare, Medicare, and the school systems. They took jobs from decent hard working Americans. Loose borders were probably what allowed the terrorist psychopath into our country in the first place. He had no problem with legal immigrants however, especially the ones whom he had fought beside in the army before they were even granted citizenship. In Jeremy's mind those men were better Americans than half of the dope smoking college kids across the country trying to "find themselves". Perhaps corralling everyone who might be an illegal into Melon Arena was a good thing, but a lot of those people spoke some impeccable English and seemed to be eager to want to show the Watchmen their passports. True, identification could be faked and was at times, but all of them? Jeremy didn't think it was likely. He looked up and caught his reflection in one of the few store windows still remaining on a shop and then quickly looked away.

Jeremy pulled a small metal flask from his hip pocket and unscrewed the lid. The smell of sweet sipping whiskey wafted out from inside, rank had its privileges after all. He tipped it back and began to drain its contents in an attempt to drown the inner voice second guessing him for the past few hours. Once he had been able to live without the little voice constantly screaming in his head, now he had to self medicate with whiskey to get the little bastard to shut the hell up. He began to wonder why that was and then shrugged it off as the whiskey began to numb him.

"Commander Adkins," a blond haired Watchman said. "Mr. Warren wants to speak with you at your earliest convenience."

"Tell him I am on my way," Jeremy said. By at your earliest convenience he knew it really meant "come here right now" so he followed the young man to where the leader had decided to take up residence. He had chosen to make the site of his first victory against the gang on the Mexican War streets his command center.

Jeremy popped a couple pieces of gum into his mouth to cover up the smell of booze. He didn't want to give their exalted leader reason to have him "relieved" as he had done to a few of the more insubordinate individuals which now hung on display from light poles. Maybe that was what had been bothering Jeremy, maybe it was the blurring of the lines between was and was not punishable by death and who was and was not guilty. In a time when the only law laid in the hands of one man, anything could happen.

Derrick had been pacing in his office ever since he heard the announcement from the President. Could he really use federal troops on the main land? Whether or not he could it seemed as though he was going to do it. It wouldn't be long now before Demetrius Raines got orders to come down and arrest him. What would he do? What could he do? They had bigger and better guns. They had armored vehicles and body armor. They were better trained and better organized than his group was. He needed to get tactical advice on this from his go to guy. He needed Jeremy Adkins more than ever today. Once upon a time he had been a soldier, he knew their tactics and even better, he knew their weaknesses. Derrick thought he made a good decision in elevating Jeremy to the rank he currently enjoyed and also by turning a blind eye to his drinking. Just then a knock came on his door.

"Enter," Derrick shouted to the door.

"Commander Jeremy Adkins reporting as ordered Sir," Jeremy said crisply with a salute.

Derrick returned the salute, something he had never done before, and then said, "At ease Commander. Please take a seat we have some serious business to discuss." From the copious amounts of gum his commander was chewing Derrick realized he must have been drinking a short time beforehand. If his speech slurred too much or he was unable to focus on the task at hand, then Jeremy would be of no use to him anymore. It would be a shame because of all of the good Jeremy had done for the cause, but if he wasn't part of the solution then he was part of the problem.

"Sir, what do you require of me?" Jeremy said in flawless speech. It looked like Derrick wouldn't have to get rid of his right hand man after all.

"Jeremy, I don't know if you heard, but the so called leader of the free world has issued a proclamation of martial law. Apparently we are outlaws now and he wishes to send in troops to crush us," Derrick said. He paused to evaluate the face of his commander. Any sign of second guessing or disloyalty to the cause would have been his death sentence. Derrick liked what he saw out of his commander.

"They can't fuckin do that!" Jeremy exclaimed with fury fueled by booze. "The Posse Comitatus Act strictly forbids the use of federal troops against our own countrymen. It's illegal as hell and immoral. It's...its unthinkable!"

Derrick smiled and then said, "Illegal or not, they are going to do it and we need to stop them because unless I missed my guess, they will be coming after us first." Derrick studied the face of Jeremy who was in deep thought. "What do you think we can do to prepare?" he asked.

"Well," Jeremy said pausing, "I think what will probably come at us first is the Nasty Girls, uh National Guard that is. They will probably come at us up Route 279 to access North Washington Street and then they will execute a cordon and search operation against us."

"Okay Jeremy what can we do to stop that from happening?" Derrick asked. He didn't know what all the military jargon was, but by the sound of it, it wasn't good.

"We have to hit them before they hit us, simple as that," Jeremy said. "Do you have a map handy? Like a close up map of the immediate surrounding streets?" Jeremy asked.

"Yes, as a matter of fact I do, here," Derrick said as he passed Jeremy the map. Derrick studied the face of Jeremy who was intently evaluating the complex urban terrain. Derrick wished he possessed such know how.

"Okay, I think I have it," Jeremy said. "Here is what we'll do. We will set up an L-shaped ambush on the first turn onto North Washington Street from the off ramp of 279. The reason being is the convoy will have to slow down as it makes the sharp turn on the dog leg. Once the first two or three vehicles make the turn onto North Washington Street, we hit the lead and the trail vehicles. We will post sharp shooters in the tops of the buildings and we will put our machine guns in the gutters under the street and a couple up high. That way the heavy weapons on the trucks won't be able to be brought to bear on all of our machine gunners at once. The only escape route after that will be to cross the over pass, in order to make their escape they will have to make a full about face turn which will give us more time and targets. We will post another machine gun crew up in the building on the T intersection with the bridge, which will give us excellent enfilade and plunging fire across any part of the retreating column. We will tell the guys up there to hold their fire until the column has committed to crossing the overpass. Seeing as we don't have any good can openers if they use armored vehicles, we will have to wire the bridge and blow it. Trigger to blow the bridge will be no less than two vehicles on the bridge if they have that many left. This should ensure all of the vehicles they bring should be destroyed. We will knock out the initial vehicles by dropping several pipe bombs and Molotov cocktails into the turrets and the rear vehicles we can probably do the same. What do you think?"

"What I think is, you are a damn genius!" Derrick exclaimed with glee and admiration. So thought out was this plan, it had to be fool proof, no one would think a rag tag group of militia men would have such a well thought out ambush. It had to work. "Jeremy you just might make yourself a regional commander one day, answerable only to me," Derrick said with a broad smile.

"Thank you Sir, I'm glad you appreciate my work," Jeremy said sincerely. "But well, there is one little kink we need to work out. What do we do with the wounded survivors and those who surrender?"

Derrick's smile quickly vanished and was replaced by a scowl before he said, "There will be no survivors and there will be no prisoners. No quarter is to be given to our enemies." He waited for Jeremy's reaction, if he saw even a hint of insubordination it would mean Jeremy would have to be dealt with.

"Roger Sir, no quarter," Jeremy said. He kept his inner feeling of panic in check. The booze suddenly fled his system and he was as sober as the Pope. "Could he really mean what he just said?" Jeremy thought to himself. "Could he really want every last Guardsman dead? If so then it was lunacy, it was plain and simple murder."

"Good," Derrick said. He was unaware of the inner conflict raging in Jeremy, which was the only reason Jeremy continued to breathe. "Now we have another issue we have to take care of, one that must be completed for the reestablishment of law and order in our fair city and bring us to a final state of well being in our country."

"What do you have in mind Sir?" Jeremy asked thankful the talk of murder had passed.

"The question of how best to deal with all of these filthy illegal immigrants we have corralled into the Melon Arena," Derrick said. "We need to find a good systematic way to be rid of them once and for all because you know if we deport them they will just come back."

There, he said it. He was a mass murderer after all. He didn't just want justice. He wanted to perform an ethnic cleansing and he wanted Jeremy to be the main architect of his neo-holocaust. How could this happen? What was going on? Jeremy's head spun at the onslaught of all of these thoughts. He knew he had to pull it together otherwise he would be the first to die.

"Sir, I think it would be best to focus on the training of the men to defeat the soldiers first and then we can focus on the solution to our other problem," Jeremy said carefully. He studied Derrick's face to see if he saw through the façade he had thrown up. Derrick's deep blue eyes seemed to pierce straight through him. He could feel Derrick's eyes trying to pull down the barrier Jeremy had erected to keep him at bay. Jeremy fought back the urge to run or show any panic.

"Your right commander," Derrick relented. "We do have some bigger fish to fry now don't we?" Derrick wasn't sure if Jeremy was dodging the question or if he really just wanted to focus on the task at hand. He figured it was likely to be both, but realized it would be wise to keep to the task at hand as Jeremy had suggested, so he let it go.

"Sir if you are finished with me I would like to begin preparations for our defense," Jeremy said.

"Of course commander please take your leave and make our defenses as best as they can be made," Derrick said dismissing Jeremy.

As Jeremy left Derrick's office it dawned on him that he had been dooped into being on the wrong side. What should he do? Or a better question yet, what could he do?

IX

Jake Church had not been in the woods this long or moved this much in the dark without the assistance of night vision since he had been in Ranger School. He quickly reassumed his fire team leader role while he led the girls. They moved in near silence taking great care not to crunch too many leaves or step on too many branches. He skirted the road and had taken note of the vehicles which held vigilantes frequently flew a red bandana or piece of cloth from the antenna of their car or van. Melani appeared at home in the woods while Libbi looked utterly miserable. When they slept now they slept in shifts. When they cuddled together now it wasn't out of lust or love, it was to keep warm. No, this wasn't like any camping trip Libbi had been on before, but it looked like Melani was right at home. Just then a pair of headlights began to crawl by.

"Get down!" Jake said in a hushed whisper. The girls complied while Jake kept a rifle trained on the vehicle just in case. That's when he saw it. "Girls get up, follow me!" Jake said in an excited shout.

"What? What's going on?" they asked.

"It's one of us, someone loyal to the Stars and Stripes!" Jake said excitedly as he jumped into the road and began waving with his rifle above his head. What Jake had seen was a minivan and a car behind it with two American flags flying from their antennas. The cars slowed down and stopped.

"Keep your hands where we can see'em soldier," commanded the voice from the sunroof of the van. Something about the voice was very familiar to Libbi....

"Dr. Parks! Dr. Parks!" Libbi shouted excitedly, "Is that you? It's me Libbi Jung and with me is Melani Prescott and that's Jake Church!"

Ned's jaw dropped visibly. "You...you three are supposed to be dead!" Dr. Parks stammered. "How did you make it?"

Jake smiled and dropped his arms from his head into a more casual posture as he approached the lead vehicle. "We never went to the bar Saturday night. Honestly, I played hooky," Jake said with a shrug and a smile.

"But your house, your house exploded," Dr. Parks said incredulously.

"Yeah, I had a funny feeling about the house so we left through a window on our way into the woods. Hoping to run into someone like you as a matter of fact," Jake said. "Where are you guys headed?" Jake asked.

"There is a police and National Guard outpost up on Sample Road a little further down the road by the Wild Wood Country Club. We were headed there since the nut job Watchmen took over the city. I'll tell ya that Derrick Warren is bad news," Dr. Parks said.

Libbi and Melani's jaws dropped in unison. Jake was the first to speak. "When you say Derrick Warren do you mean the student at La Roche College?" Jake asked.

"Yeah, it was him alright, he is the ring leader and he is making one hell of a mess of Pittsburgh. Public executions and herding everyone he thinks is a trouble maker into the Melon Arena, plus he is killing Muslims and then burning down their mosques. Why, do you know him?" Dr. Parks asked.

Libbi's stomach turned a back flip in her abdomen. She turned to the side of the road and began to vomit. "Oh my God, oh my God," she kept saying in between wretches.

"What's wrong with her?" Dr. Parks said pointing to Libbi.

"She saw him on occasion," Melani answered as she held her friend's hair back. "Last time we saw him was right before the awards ceremony. He was flipping out and then Jake planted him when he wouldn't apologize to us." Melani returned to comforting her friend while the remainder of the contents of her stomach fought their way out. Soon Libbi was dry heaving and sobbing between the wretches.

"Do you mind giving us a ride to where you're goin?" Jake asked.

"Sure, soon as she's finished you just hop right in and we'll get ya where you need to be," Dr. Parks answered. When Libbi had finished her vomiting fit Melani and Jake helped her into the van. Jake held her close and Melani began stroking her head softly.

Libbi's world was coming down around her. How could it be that sweet, innocent, albeit creepy, Derrick could secretly be a mass murderer without her knowing? She had been with him in the biblical sense on more than one occasion. His blood soaked hands had once roamed her body freely. She had an evil mass murderer make love to her. Was his mental break somehow her fault for rejecting him so often and so harshly? Could she have somehow prevented this by humoring him one more time? Could she... Tears took over her conscious thought once more.

Jake tried in vain to comfort her and then he looked deeply into Melani's eyes. They were both thinking the same thing. Libbi had lost it and felt responsible for this whole thing. Jake looked around himself for the first time since getting into the van. Ammunition and firearms were everywhere as well as non-perishable food items and water. This family was smart. They knew what they needed in order to survive this quasi-apocalypse. It was then Jake caught the sight of the long metal tube running along the passenger side of the van almost the full length.

"Is that a friggin cannon?" Jake asked. Dr. Parks and the two other men in the front seat erupted into laughter. "What's so funny?" Jake asked again.

Between laughs Dr. Parks answered, "It's funny because I said the exact same thing when I first saw it." He laughed some more and then continued, "And the answer is yes, that is a friggin cannon."

Demetrius sat in his office brooding. If only he had listened to Damian and had that creep Derrick Warren followed, then he could have captured him by now. If he had then all the atrocities in the city wouldn't be going on. If he had just had enough balls to take a chance on something for once in his life since his hasty exit from football then none of this would have been happening. Too many innocents had died. Too many of his friends, comrades, and men of his had died. Too many people had lost their faith in the country and the government's ability to protect them. Demetrius had to act. He had to restore their faith. Next time he wouldn't pull any punches, next time he would act with the aggressiveness he was once famed for having as a star defensive end. Next time...

"Sir, we have someone at the gate I think you would be interested in seeing. Also you are the only one who can actually verify his identity," Harris said. Demetrius didn't even notice his new second in command had stuck his head into his office.

"Who is it Harris?" Demetrius asked in an aggravated tone.

"He claims to be Jake Church," Harris responded.

"Jake!" Demetrius exclaimed spitting out the water he had been drinking, "Are you sure?"

"Sir, that's why I came to get you, but he is wearing an army uniform that says Church," Harris answered. "He is accompanied by a family of four with the last name Sarandos, a Miss Melani Prescott, a Miss Libbi Jung, and a Dr. Ned Parks. They are all armed to put it mildly, what would you like me to do?" Harris asked.

"Well, let them in and let them keep their guns. If Jake trusts them then we can trust them too," Demetrius said. "I'm going to come down and see them, lead the way."

Demetrius grabbed his personal weapon and then he headed to the gate at a brisk enough pace to make his knee ache and scream, but he didn't care. If Jake was alive then he wanted to see him and give him a warm welcoming back to the land of the living. The two vehicles were still stopped at the gate when Demetrius arrived. "Let them pass, Let them pass," Demetrius shouted to the guards at the gate waving his arm. The guards stood aside and moved the barricade so the two vehicles could enter.

"Demetrius, how are you doing man?" Jake asked. Jake was dressed in his old army uniform. Body armor and helmet aside he looked like he was right at home in it. He ran up to Demetrius and gave him a big bear hug.

"How did you make it, how are you still alive?" Demetrius asked. "I thought you were dead? And why didn't you answer your damn cell phone if you weren't you son of a bitch?"

"Well all of that kinda ties into one story," Jake answered with a chuckle. "Well the girls and I had us a little fun on Saturday after the ceremony before I had to go to work. One thing led to another and all of our cell phones got soaked in the shower and I never went to work."

"But what about your house, how did you make it out of there?" Demetrius asked.

"Well, we heard what happened to the bar on the news the next morning. I figured the nut job who wanted me dead would be back soon, so we got our gear together and we jumped through a window in case the house was rigged," Jake answered. "I am sorry about your men, Dr. Parks told me my house exploded and killed a bunch of them," Jake said as he put a sympathetic hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Yeah it was rough, and I wish I would never have sent anyone to check. I just had this feeling you weren't dead. I mean if the combined forces of Al-Qaeda and the Taliban couldn't kill you then I didn't think one lone psycho could," Demetrius said.

The two men began walking to the main building. Melani stayed with Libbi who was being comforted by Maria and Mrs. Sarandos. They were trying to get her to drink some water and have a little butter cookie they called koulouria.

"Okay man, I need you to bring me up to speed on what has been goin on since I was...delayed," Jake said to Demetrius suddenly all business.

Demetrius brought Jake up to speed on the chief and commissioner's assassination, the chaos ensuing from his "death" and the gang violence. After that, he brought him up to speed on the killing of most of the city's police force and the collapse of America's economy. Finally, Demetrius told him of the Watchmen and their maniacal leader Derrick Warren. He informed Jake as to how he thought Derrick had assassinated the mayor and how he had taken control of the city. He told him about the proclamation of martial law under the Insurrection Act and how Derrick had been ordered to lay down his arms as of today but how he had no such inclination.

"Holy shit," Jake said. "I figured things had got bad, but I didn't think things had got that bad."

"Unfortunately I don't think anyone could have anticipated things getting this bad this fast," Demetrius said. "We need to regain control of the city."

"Yeah I agree, but how are we going to do it?" Jake said.

"Here is what I am planning to do," Demetrius said. "I am going to send the MP Company in to go arrest that crazy fuck. I have their Lieutenant planning it all out and he's briefing his operations order for the cordon and search right now."

"You are just going to send one company of MPs?" Jake asked incredulously. "These guys are a full blown insurgency, if we don't go in with thunder and lightning then we ain't gunna get back out."

"Jake I want to do this right. We have to maintain our legitimacy and we can't make it look like we are in a military occupation. We need to have the police arresting these criminals not the infantry," Demetrius said. "I missed an opportunity to take down this sick fuck once before, I won't miss it again. Also, we can't just leave this place undefended because it's our only safe haven. One company is really all I can spare."

"I don't like this Demetrius, it doesn't feel right," Jake said.

"Jake, I haven't felt right about anything since they told me you were dead. We need to be aggressive, but we can't afford to lose this place," Demetrius said.

"Alright fine, do what you want. I'll go along to make sure this doesn't get too fucked up, but I'm telling you this feels wrong," Jake said. "Where is the LT giving his order?" Jake asked.

"He is briefing it down by the pool," Demetrius answered.

"I'm gunna head down there and listen in, if that's ok with you?" Jake asked.

"Go ahead, and stay safe man. You only have so many lives left," Demetrius said with a chuckle.

Jake headed out the door and was met by Melani and Libbi. Libbi had stopped sobbing, but by the red rings surrounding her eyes, it looked like she had only just stopped. Melani, however, had a look of fire in her eye.

"What's going on Jake?" Melani asked. Yeah, she wanted blood.

"We are going after Derrick. One MP Company and I," Jake responded.

"I'm going with you," Melani said. Her eyes were wide and unblinking.

"No Mel, this is going to be dangerous, only soldiers," Jake said. He didn't want to chance losing one of his girls. He had seen too many friends die in combat and didn't think he could stand to see someone he really cared for go that way and still remain sane.

"Who, the fuck, do you think you are?" Melani demanded with a fire in her eyes, her voice quivering with rage. "You can't just ask me not to make sure you are ok. You can't tell me I can't defend my country. I know Derrick and I know how he thinks, you need me."

"Mel..." Jake started before being interrupted again by Melani.

"No Jake, I am a big girl and I can handle myself. I don't want to hear any of your chauvinistic bullshit about how women can't be in combat. Fuck, there are women in the MP Company. You will let me go," She said in a tone of non-negotiable authority. She was breathing heavily and was fixated on her one goal, killing Derrick and making sure he never hurt anybody ever again.

"Ok, fine," Jake relented, "but you will stay by me and you will listen to what I say when the shit hits the fan, because when it does, listening to me will save your life."

"Alright, I won't leave your side," Melani said with conviction. To make her point resound she cocked the action on her AR-15. "Let's do it."

Jake and Melani headed toward the briefing already in progress. Libbi stayed behind with the Sarandos family. Jake hoped she would recover soon, but when he looked into those beautiful blue eyes of hers they told him it would probably take awhile. The briefing was thorough enough for Jake's standard, but clearly the guy had never done this for real. While his plan was briefed thoroughly, it also thoroughly lacked an appreciation for the enemy, which did not bode well for the mission. After the briefing Jake approached the Lieutenant to bring this to his attention.

"Lieutenant Crenshaw, I'm Jake Church," Jake said extending his hand. It was convenient having everyone's name plastered to their chest every now and again.

"Sergeant Church, it's nice to meet you," the Lieutenant answered shaking his hand. "What's on your mind?" Lieutenant Robert Crenshaw was a graduate of the Virginia Military Institute and he wore that gaudy class ring everywhere he went. He was a lanky six feet tall with short sandy hair and a face which looked like he really didn't need to shave very often. Judging by his looks and how he carried himself he probably thought he was cleverer than he really was.

"Well Sir, frankly, I think you have grossly underestimated the enemy," Jake said. "They have defeated every foe they have come up against to date, to include SWAT teams and local law enforcement. The plan you briefed assumes you can do too much and credits the enemy too little."

"That will be quite enough, Sergeant!" Lieutenant Crenshaw shouted as he turned a deep shade of red.

"Actually, Sir, I am no longer active duty or even a reservist. I have been reactivated in a sense. I am now the head of the combined task force of the police," Jake said.

"Well the last I checked Mr. Church," the LT took great care to make the title mister sound like an insult and to make it drip with as much disdain as possible when he said it, "Officer Raines was in charge of all the civilian forces in this area, not just a task force. So unless word comes from him that he does not like my plan, you can go fuck yourself."

"My my, an officer and a gentleman," Jake said sarcastically. "Well, Sir, whether or not you like it, I will be going on this cordon and search. I will be in one of the trail vehicles and I will have a person accompanying me so I do not rob you of extra men. Is that understood?"

Clearly the Lieutenant was not used to being talked to in such a manner by someone who he clearly felt was his inferior. "Fine Mr. Church, I will allow you to tag along, but you stay out of my way and let me accomplish my mission," Lieutenant Crenshaw said.

"It's your world Sir, I'm just livin in it," Jake said and then walked away. That pompous ass was going to get people killed one day, but arguing with him would be like arguing with water for being wet. As Jake walked away he prayed that day would not be today.

Jake was able to find an extra armored vehicle with a machine gun mounted in its turret. He found the driver, commander, and the turret gunner of the truck and let them know he and Melani would be their passengers for this mission. None of them looked thrilled because they knew it meant they probably would be watching the action instead of participating in it. They did their rehearsals and radio checks to make sure everyone was on the same sheet of music for the upcoming mission. Everything moved with military methodical timeliness and precision, every block would be checked before they crossed the line of departure. Little could they know, they would be fighting for their lives a mere hour from now. Then a voice came over the speaker of the radio.

"Attention all Talon elements, Attention all Talon elements," the voice said, "This is Talon Six prepare to cross line of departure. Vehicle commanders check in." All of the vehicle crews responded with their corresponding call signs signaling they were up and prepared to go. "Attention all Talon elements this is Talon Six, cross line of departure, over." Operation Hammer was to be executed by the leader announcing this order. The operation was named hammer because it was designed to be the driving blow putting the nail in the coffin of this insurrection. Operation Hammer, instead of bringing in Derrick Warren and dealing a crushing blow to the Watchmen, was going to be shattered against the anvil of the Watchmen ambush.

Jeremy Adkins was making his final preparations for the ambush of the National Guard troops. He checked all of the positions sectors of fire and made sure they were well protected from direct fire and well concealed. He did final inspections of all of the vital equipment to ensure they were in good working order, the explosives would be critical to stopping the vehicles in the initial attack. He checked all of the components of the explosives which would blow the overpass to finish off the kill. He made sure all of the machine guns had enough ammunition so they would not go dry when they needed it most. He watched for his opportunity to escape and to warn the troops of the ambush they were about to bumble into.

Jeremy realized if he didn't do everything to the best of his ability, any suspicion of Derrick's would be confirmed and in turn Jeremy would cease to be valuable to him. He had to make a good show, and in doing so, he had to act as though he really wanted to make the ambush work. This would later have the inconvenient side effect of actually making the ambush more effective. Ever since Jeremy's epiphany that the leader he had trusted was in fact a psychopath he had been waiting on his chance to escape. That little bastard of a conscience who had been shouting for so long and so loudly in his head had been trying to warn him about this before even he was consciously aware of the evil things Derrick was making him do. He made a show of drinking out of the flask which never left his side. Nothing could seem out of the ordinary today, and quite frankly his being a bit of a lush was common knowledge, he had to make sure people saw him drinking. The only difference today was the flask instead of containing copious amounts of alcohol, today only contained harmless water. He longed for a nip of the whiskey he had grown so accustomed to, but realized if he did he would be putting too much at risk. He needed to be as sober as a church mouse if this was going to work and the ambush was going to be avoided. No one would believe a warning about danger coming from a man reeking of whiskey. How many street ministers preaching the end of the world had found this out first hand?

"Commander, come and check this out," a voice said excitedly from behind him. Several militia men were standing over a cache of riot equipment.

"Sure, whatcha got?" Jeremy asked as he put away his flask.

"Well what we were thinkin was, that with these here grenade launchers, we could shoot a bunch of teargas at the bastards when we start the attack. That would, ya know, mess things up for'em an stuff right?" the leader of the squad said.

"Well, that is a good idea, but none of us here has gas masks," Jeremy pointed out. One thing he learned in basic training was if you were going to be anywhere near teargas, you would want a protective mask to help keep you straight.

"Yes we do, they are right here!" another boy said excitedly pointing to several trash bags full of protective masks.

"Well alright hand out the masks and if we have enough for everyone in the ambush, then we can use the gas, if not then it will do us more harm than good," Jeremy said. The squad of adolescents turned militia men smiled and went about their work with a bounce in their step. When they were out of sight Jeremy sighed and hoped against all hope the Guard had brought their gas masks with them. He knew from experience chemical warfare was something most units didn't really practice anymore outside of basic training. Who in the civilized world still used gas? Who in their right mind would use it against a nation who could use nuclear weapons in retaliation? He hadn't had a gas mask during his deployment in a war zone his last go round so he seriously doubted a National Guard unit would have thought to bring theirs with them to put down a civilian uprising. The only thing saving them from this being a greater disaster was if the militia hadn't acquired enough masks for all of the men in the ambush. If they did have enough, then this could be an even worse slaughter than he had previously imagined. Jeremy tried to shake off the feeling, but couldn't. Unless he warned the troops, they would all die gruesome deaths.

"Commander Adkins! Hey, Commander!" the first militia man said. "We have enough, we really do have enough!" the boy was all smiles. He had only seen conflict against gangs, people who really did deserve what was coming to them, not against American soldiers. How could this kid be so excited to kill men and women who were so willing to lay down their lives for him, soldiers who went to foreign countries for a year at a time away from their families while this kid went to the movies and felt up little Susie Rottencrotch? Just then his radio began to chatter and beep at him.

"This is Adkins," he said and waited for a reply. "Saved by the bell," he thought to himself.

"Adkins this is Warren, look outs report that the troops left their compound about fifteen minutes ago," Derrick's voice said from the radio.

"How many and what vehicles were they in?" Jeremy asked all business.

"One company of Military Police out of Ohio, they are in armored Hummvees," Derrick replied.

"Okay, I will have the men get down and be ready for the signal," Jeremy said.

"Roger, when the second to last vehicle is on the bend we hit, confirm," Derrick said.

"I confirm, we trigger when the second to last vehicle is on the bend," Jeremy responded. He hoped against hope he would be able to sneak away in time and warn the convoy of the impending doom he had helped orchestrate.

Jeremy started walking off toward the direction of Route 279, which was the avenue indicated the troops were taking by the network of look outs. He went to his position for the ambush and then he waited until no one was looking and slipped away. He knew he didn't have long until Derrick or some other Watchman realized he was missing and would come looking for him, but he had to warn the troops. By the side of the road Jeremy had hidden a dirt bike, and he prayed it hadn't been discovered and would still be there when he got to it. He was running now ever faster to get to it. Sweat of fear, pain, and fatigue was pouring down his face. His thighs burned and the rods in his back screamed. None of that mattered now, he had once taken an oath to defend this country and, by God, if he died in the process of keeping that oath, so be it. There the yellow Yamaha sat on the side of the road covered by branches and leaves. Jeremy picked it up and tried to start it. The engine coughed and failed to start.

"No, no, no, don't do this to me now!" Jeremy cursed in a soft whisper to himself. He prayed he had stashed it far enough away from the rest of the Watchmen so that his failure to start it hadn't been heard. He tried to start it again.

"Come on you fucking piece of shit!" Jeremy cursed in panic at the machine. He thought he could hear footsteps behind him, gaining in speed to where he stood. He tried again to get the cursed machine to work and again to no avail.

"Come on! Come on! Give me a break. Quit being a little piece of shit and let me do something good in my life for once," Jeremy said. He fiddled with the damnable machine a little more. Just then he heard a shout coming from behind him.

"Hey, you! Whoever you are stop or I'll shoot!" the voice behind him commanded.

Initially, the icy hand of fear gripped him, he was caught. Then the key word Jeremy picked up on from his would-be captor was the word I, whoever had realized he was gone and was trying to stop him was alone. It meant Jeremy had a chance. Jeremy said nothing, but spun around and raised his rifle at whoever was behind him. He saw behind him one of the guys he had mentored at the beginning of this whole god awful shitty mess. By the look on his face and they way his jaw dropped, Jeremy was the last person the man ever expected to see trying to desert.

"Commander Adkins?" the man said clearly puzzled at the sight before him.

"Listen Frank, I need you to lower your weapon," Jeremy said. Frank was a thirty year old former construction worker. He was of average height and was built like an ox. He had a keen eye for tactics most laymen did not and could not possess. His weapon of choice was a Romanian made AK-47 for close in action and a Dragunov sniper rifle for distance. He wore a flannel button up shirt under a pair of faded overalls and always had a toothpick hanging from his mouth. He was a true believer in the cause and a blind follower of Derrick Warren.

"Jeremy, what are you doing down here? What's with the bike?" Frank asked lowering his weapon only slightly.

"Frank, do you trust me?" Jeremy asked trying to keep panic from his voice.

"Well, ya but what are you doing?" Frank asked. He didn't like the fact that Jeremy wasn't giving him a straight answer. Could he be a traitor, a wolf in sheep's clothes?

"If you trust me, then put down your rifle and come with me," Jeremy said. His eyes were focused on Frank's. He didn't want to do it.

"No Commander, I think you need to lower your weapon and come with me," Frank replied. If he was a traitor, then he deserved whatever the exalted leader gave him as a punishment.

"I can't do that Frank, and you know why," Jeremy said. He stared into Frank's face. His mouth was working the tooth pick with a twitchy frequency. Frank wasn't going to relent.

"Hey! Over..." Frank started to shout, but was interrupted.

With the hand not holding his weapon, Jeremy unsheathed a knife and threw it into Frank's neck. Frank dropped his rifle and grabbed his throat, eyes wide with pain and surprise. Jeremy bounded on top of him and finished the work the blade had begun on his former pupil. He felt bad for Frank. He died for his principals, which they had once shared. He had been a good and honest man, but had been blinded by the Watchmen. Jeremy walked back over to the bike and kicked it. He knew it wasn't reasonable, but he blamed the bike for making him kill someone he had once called his friend, someone who had saved his life when a gang member he didn't see was about to shoot him. If the damned thing would have just worked the first time, then maybe Frank would still be alive. Jeremy collected himself and righted the bike. When he attempted to start it this time, it fired to life.

"Now you work you lazy fuck," Jeremy said in disgust at the bike and then he rode off to intercept the column which was headed quickly toward a certain death. He took the radio, the one that never left his side, off of his belt and threw it off to the side of the road. It shattered like the hopes and dreams he had once placed in the Watchmen. He tore the red arm band off of his arm, he had once been so proud to wear it, and let it fly off behind him and then he began to recite the soldier's creed, "I am an American Soldier..."

Derrick Warren sat in his office, the place of his first victory. He elected to put his desk and chair over the blood stains of the mayor he had slain. To him, it was a way of showing his power over the dead mayor. Of course the rest of his men thought he had taken the office as a tribute to the mayor sacrifice, but they didn't need to know the truth. He waited to watch the slaughter of his enemies, and he reveled in the idea of bathing in their blood. How dare they try to arrest him! He was the law, he had pacified the city. Why couldn't they just be gracious and say a simple thank you?

"Sir, we have reports that the convoy is on the way," his guard said from outside his office.

"Good tell the men to be ready," Derrick said. Some of his men had found a butt load of teargas canisters and teargas launchers. This wouldn't have mattered if Jeremy hadn't realized that they needed gas masks or the teargas would have hurt them just as much as the enemy. What would he do without his most trusted commander? He had seen him personally check every position and every weapon to make sure it was in working order. He drilled and checked every man's responsibility to the finest of points. After they destroyed this attack he would launch an attack of his own to crush the last remnants of resistance against him. They hadn't worked out all of the details yet, but he knew Jeremy would come up with something brilliant as he always did. The attack of his would come tomorrow after the total destruction of this puny effort so as to have the greatest psychological effect on his enemies. How Jeremy could be so precise when he drank so much was beyond Derrick, but if he continued to perform Derrick would continue to look the other way.

What Derrick couldn't know was the only contents of the flask since the last time they met held nothing of alcoholic value. He had alienated his most trusted advisor greater than he could have imagined by sharing with him his grand plan of ethnic cleansing. Now even as Derrick sat singing his praises Jeremy was riding off to thwart the ambush he had so meticulously emplaced.

Derrick left his office and took up his position on the roof to watch the events. He wouldn't just passively watch though, he had a hunting rifle with a powerful scope so he could add some lethal fire to the battle as well.

"Adkins report," Derrick said into his radio. He waited for a response. "Adkins report," Derrick said again a little annoyed he had to ask for his second in command twice. He waited again and stewed in his own impatient fury before yelling into the radio once again, "I said fucking Adkins fucking report!"

"Sir," came a voice on the line, "We can't find the commander and squad leader Frank is missing."

"What?" Derrick said in disbelief into his radio.

Could Jeremy have gone off and passed out after drinking too much? This close to a battle, that kind of behavior would be an inexcusable offense to commit, even for him. Where was Frank though? Or a better question yet, who the fuck was this Frank? Could he have been a spy? Did he kill his second in command just when he would need him most? That had to be it. He had spies and traitors in his ranks. First he would have to take care of the troops who were coming after him and then he would tend to his own flock. Yes, he would find those traitors and make them pay, but before he let them die he would make them betray their colleagues. He smiled a wolfish smile at the thought of those bastards dying and then looked back into the kill zone.

X

As Jake got closer to the off ramp from Route 279 to the target area, the more he began to feel uneasy about it. This was too obvious of a route, and if the enemy even had an ounce of common sense they would have something nasty waiting for them. Nothing about this felt right to Jake. This was too obvious and in broad daylight to boot.

"Driver," Jake said, "Hang back two hundred meters, we will stay in an over watch position until the outer cordon has been put in."

"Yes Sir," the driver responded.

The vehicle commander started to voice his displeasure at Jake asserting authority over his vehicle, but then relented remembering that Jake outranked him. "Sir, may I ask why we are going to hang back in an exposed position when the rest of our support races in?" the vehicle commander asked sardonically.

"Because Sergeant, if the shit hits the fan and we are too close to the action, then we will have lost any kind of maneuverability," Jake answered in a tone of unquestionable authority. At that the vehicle commander shut up. Just then Jake saw a man standing next to a dirt bike lying on its side in the middle of the road. He had his shirt off and was waving it over his head in order to signal the column to stop. If he were back in Iraq or Afghanistan Jake would have just driven by for fear of an ambush, but the location this man was in was quite possibly the worst place for one, so Jake thought it would be a good idea to stop. Perhaps this gentleman just needed some water or his wife was in labor or something of that sort.

"Talon six, Talon six, this is Steeler six, over," Jake said into the radio.

"This is Talon six, go ahead Steeler six," Lieutenant Crenshaw answered.

"I believe we should conduct a security halt and see what this guy is up to, over" Jake said.

"Negative Steeler six we continue with the mission, over," Lieutenant Crenshaw said.

"Talon six I strongly urge you to reconsider, over," Jake responded.

"Steeler six if you want to hang back fine, but you will not jeopardize my mission, how do you copy?" Lieutenant Crenshaw said.

"Good copy Talon six, Steeler six will conduct a security halt to assess the situation and catch up, over," Jake said. That guy was a pompous ass wasn't he?

"Go ahead Steeler six, Talon six out," Lieutenant Crenshaw said curtly.

"Driver, you will stop and we will speak with the man with the dirt bike. Turret gunner keep your eyes open don't just focus in on him. Mel you keep a look out the left window," Jake said.

"Roger Sir, wilco," said the driver.

"Sir, do you really need me to tell you that this is a bad fuckin idea?" asked the vehicle commander.

"It's on me Sergeant, so don't you worry," Jake said. The Hummvee slowed to a stop by the man standing next to the bike. He had two rifles lying in the open next to the bike. That was a good idea as it sent a message that he was no threat.

"Oh thank God one of you stopped," the man said.

"Identify yourself Mister," Jake said.

"My name is Jeremy Adkins. I used to be a specialist with the 82nd until a jump broke my back. I also used to be with the Watchmen until this morning. They are planning an ambush up ahead. I know because I helped them plan it, I didn't want to, but you have to believe me!" Jeremy said frantically.

Jake studied the man's face. By the look of him you would never have guessed he had once been a soldier, let alone a paratrooper. Jake did believe him when he said he had been with the militants and he also believed him when he said that there was an ambush ahead. What he wasn't sure of was whether or not he could trust this Jeremy.

"Sergeant I know it probably is rough to believe me by my looks and by what I just told you," Jeremy said seeming to read Jake's mind. "Trust me though there is an L shaped ambush up ahead on North Washington Street when the column makes that dog leg. Plunging, flanking, and enfilade fire from multiple directions and men in the storm drains plus your egress route over the overpass is rigged to explode on command. You can't go up there and hope to come out alive."

"You swear on your life?" Jake asked. "If this guy was telling the truth..." Jake thought to himself as an icy chill ran down his spine.

"Yes Sergeant, I swear on my life and on all of your lives that if you do not listen to me you will all be dead men," Jeremy said. His voice was high pitched and racing. Sweat ran in bullets down his face despite the unseasonably cool breeze blowing by. He was telling the truth.

"Oh shit!" Jake shouted and then got on the radio. "Talon six, Talon six this is Steeler six, over," Jake said frantically.

"This is Talon six, go ahead," Lieutenant Crenshaw replied.

"Abort, I say again abort, over," Jake said.

"What's this about Steeler six?" Lieutenant Crenshaw asked.

"The man standing in the road is a deserter from the Watchmen, and he says that there is an ambush up ahead on North Washington Street, over," Jake said into the hand-mic.

"And you believe him?" Lieutenant Crenshaw said incredulously.

"Yes sir I do," Jake answered. The face of Jeremy relaxed a little. It was as if he was truly happy that the men were not going into an ambush. His face didn't have any of the tell tale anxiety of a man hoping someone would buy his bluff. He wasn't lying, all doubt fled Jake's mind in an instant.

"Steeler six, we will continue on. If you wish to turn back so be it. Talon six out," Lieutenant Crenshaw said. He had dismissed everything Jake and the deserter had told him.

Jake sat in utter disbelief at the arrogance of the man who was about to get his entire company slaughtered and for what? Jake needed to do something and do something fast, otherwise there were about to be a lot of "deeply regret" telegrams going out tomorrow. This would be a huge propaganda victory for the Watchmen if they could pull it off, and it looked like they just might.

"Driver," Jake said, "Move to the oncoming traffic side of the barriers. Keep at least two hundred meters separation from us and that on ramp. Gunner, if you see anything that doesn't look right I want you to open up on it right away, you got it? Jeremy get in and bring your weapons, if this happens and you are lying then you are a dead man. If you are not lying and this happens then we will need an extra gun."

The Hummvee tore off down the road trying to catch up with the column. They had the last vehicle in sight when it all happened. Several high powered rifles sang as one, from the sound of it at least two of them were in the .50 caliber range. Shortly after those shots explosions from IEDs and pipe bombs were going off like so many firecrackers on a string. Some of them were muffled which told Jake that a few of those bombs had made it into the turrets and exploded in the vehicles. Low white clouds began to appear at ground level and were spilling through the streets like a fog. The lack of return fire told Jake the Watchmen must have had something else up their sleeve. He looked over to the deserter.

"Gas," was Jeremy's one word reply.

"Go! Go! Go!" Jake screamed to the driver. He needed to get to a position where he could put his machine gunner to good use suppressing the enemy. With everyone else in that tight column fumbling for gas masks or blinded by tears and coughing fits, his truck would be the only one with effective fires on target. When he got into position much to his dismay the overpass blocked any good angle to fire on the roof tops from which most of the fire was coming on the convoy. The convoy was blocked in but three vehicles managed to turn away and were heading at a high rate of speed to the overpass. Some of the soldiers had dismounted and were using the vehicles for cover from a machine gun which was hammering down a combination of enfilade and plunging fire from a building at the other end of the overpass. Men were being cut down as if by a scythe. No fire support or air support would be available to bail them out today. Today they were all on their own. Jake fumbled for the radio which was already jammed with traffic.

"Break, break, break," Jake said over the radio. "Turn back from the over pass, I say again turn back from the overpass, it's a trap. I say again it's a..."

His transmission was cut off by another explosion ripping apart the bridge. Men, pieces of men, flaming debris, and vehicles flew through the air and were scattered in all directions. This Jeremy Adkins he had picked up hadn't been lying after all. His pleas to listen to him went unheeded and now the brave soldiers of the 585th were being shredded to pieces. Jake's machine gunner was doing his best to knock out the gunfire coming from the buildings but it was too little too late.

"All Talons this net, All Talons this net, break contact. I say again break contact!" Jake screamed into his radio. No responses were coming back, a bad sign indeed.

Just then the vehicle commander said, "Look there are a couple of survivors bounding back to our position!"

"Dismount and provide as much cover fire as humanly possible, fire on cyclic. If we leave here with ammo then we failed our friends!" Jake yelled. The rest of the vehicle crew obeyed and dismounted. They spread out in a lazy W formation and began to pour as much lead into the air as possible. The vehicle commander had an M203 grenade launcher attached to his M4 carbine and was launching grenades, flares, and smoke at the buildings as fast as he could load them into his launcher. Jeremy picked up the Dragunov sniper rifle and was taking select shots which were having some more immediate effect on machine gun nests. Melani was following the shots of Jeremy with fire from her AR-15 as quickly as she could pull the trigger.

"Changing belts!" shouted the machine gunner from the turret. With the speed and precision of a professional he changed the belt under fire, but before he could put the gun back into action, a large caliber bullet took off his head.

"Get that gun up and running!" Jake shouted. If they lost the gun their most effective weapon would be out of action and all hope of recovering those two survivors would be lost.

"I'm on it!" Melani shouted. She jumped into the turret and pulled back the charging handle of the machinegun and began to let off long bursts. A trained machine gunner would have been more effective and ashamed at the waste of ammunition, but for an amateur she handled the gun like she had been on one all of her life.

Jake saw the two soldiers bounding back down the off ramp toward the Hummvee. "Remount!" Jake yelled to the driver and the vehicle commander, "Get between those bullets and our soldiers then come back and pick us up. We will provide cover fire from our position."

The two soldiers jumped into the Hummvee and tore off to the two besieged survivors. Melani kept her fiery eyes turned to the enemy. Jake feared for her safety, but tried to remain focused on the task at hand. Jeremy was systematically sniping at the machinegun crews and snipers he had actually emplaced a mere hour earlier. Jake took his time selecting targets now as well following where Jeremy was sending his rounds. The Hummvee pulled to a screeching halt between the beleaguered soldiers and the enemy's hail storm of lead. Machine gun bullets ricocheted off of the Hummvee's armor. Judging by the lack of any stoppage in machine gun fire, Melani was taking the danger in stride. The two soldiers jumped into the Hummvee which pulled away in haste to Jake and Jeremy's position. The two men jumped onto the back of the Hummvee and held on until the vehicle was out of small arms range of the ambush. They slowed to a stop by the dirt bike still sitting where Jeremy had left it on the road. Melani jumped out of the turret and let one of the soldiers man the gun.

"Do you ride?" she asked Jake.

"Yeah, hop on," Jake said. "Driver we will follow your vehicle back to the outpost, we need to be ready to debrief when we get back. Let's go."At that the remaining Hummvee and the dirt bike headed off back in the direction of the country club turned combat outpost. Nothing would be the same after this...nothing.

Derrick sat behind his rifle perched on the top of the building he had taken for his command post. The bumbling patrol that was going to try to take him was walking straight into his well thought out trap. Soon they would learn who the rightful authority here was. Soon everyone would remember his name. Soon no one would dare defy him again.

"Alright guys the show is about to start," Derrick said into the walkie talkie. "I want sharp shooters to hit the guys on the machine guns first. Big guns hit the unprotected engines of the lead vehicle and any other one you can get a clean shot on. As soon as the first shots go off I want those bombs and Molotov cocktails to go into the trucks. Does everyone understand?"

Derrick took careful aim. A soldier's head manning a .50 caliber machine gun filled his scope. He smiled and began to squeeze the trigger. He felt the push of the rifle's recoil against his shoulder. He saw the soldier's head split open like a water melon dropped off of a kitchen counter. Apparently ballistic helmets didn't stop rifle rounds like they advertised. Soon a chorus of explosions and rifle rounds sang in unison. Machine guns chattered with the rate and chipperness of two gossiping school girls. The massacre ensued just as his trustworthy Jeremy Adkins had planned. He would have to remember to reward him if he was still alive.

Derrick lost track of time and space, before he realized it the battle was over. How could it be when he had just fired his first round? He looked around himself in puzzled astonishment. His shell casings were lying all around him. Could he have fired that many times and have no recollection of the event? He peered over the building. Dead bodies and burned out hulks of armored vehicles lay in a wasted funeral pyre below. A few wounded National Guard soldiers were still writhing on the ground, while others had their hands held above their heads in surrender.

"Wow, it worked," Derrick said aloud. He couldn't believe the trap had worked so perfectly. He had defeated well trained, well armed and armored soldiers, the best soldiers the world had produced since the days of Rome. The two young militia men who had thought to use the teargas were running up to him.

"Sir, it worked! It really worked!" they shouted excitedly to him.

"Did the gas help, I can't remember?" Derrick said. "I guess in all of the excitement I didn't notice."

"Oh ya as soon as gas started going up around them they were coughing and choking so bad that they couldn't fight back. It was a damn turkey shoot," they said.

"Good good," Derrick said nodding. Then with a smile he added, "You boys did great, take whatever spoils from them you wish."

"Yes Sir!" they said in unison with broad smiles as they left.

"Mr. Warren, Mr. Warren. Are you there?" a voice came over the radio.

"Yeah this is Derrick what do you need and who are you?" Derrick said into the radio.

"This is James Sir, umm, what do you want me to do with the wounded and those who surrendered, ya know the survivors?" James said.

"What survivors?" Derrick said. In his mind the Spartans had it right, you either came back with your shield or you came back on it. No surrender, no quarter. Mercy was for the weak.

"The soldiers who surrendered and the wounded, Sir, those survivors," James responded. Clearly this guy didn't understand the subtleties of warfare jargon.

"James I see no survivors. As far as I can tell all of them were killed in action," Derrick said pausing. "Any soldier who would raise his hand to free citizens is the soldier of a false government. They are soldiers for a tyrant and deserve the same treatment that the tyrant so richly deserves." Derrick waited for the response on the other end of the radio. If it were not everything he wanted it to be, then the man was not to be trusted and would share the fate of the doomed, disgraced, charlatan soldiers.

"Uhh, yes Sir," James stammered, "I was mistaken when I said that anyone had survived our defense of freedom."

At that the survivors were lined up against a wall. They were placed on their knees and then shot in the backs of their heads. Some Watchmen were picking up the dead soldiers weapons and ammunition, others went for body armor and the boots, and yet others were trying to take what little money the soldiers might have died with. Derrick took special note of a few Watchmen who had turned away from the executions. What did they think this was a nice friendly game of paintball? Fuck no, this was war. To win a war you had to show the other side that fighting you was suicide. Imagine the media bonanza at the site of an entire company of soldiers massacred by their own people. Imagine the outrage the American people would have that it had come to this. The President had ordered an illegal action by using troops against his own people and his people had defeated them. The world would know. The world would have to know soon enough. If this didn't cement Derrick as a patriotic liberator defending the American people from the onslaught of governmental tyranny what would?

Demetrius sat at his desk with his face buried in his hands. Tears of regret, dismay, and despair cascaded down his face. One more decision he made leading to disastrous consequences. One more choice he made that ended the lives of the men who were put in his charge. Once more ill conceived trust had been placed in his hands and he had squandered it. How long could the powers that be tolerate his failures? How long could he tolerate his failures? His service pistol looked more and more inviting with the perceived prospect of escape it offered.

"What should I do Jake?" Demetrius asked with his voice shaking.

"Honestly," Jake said shrugging, "I don't rightly know."

"Well that is comforting," Demetrius said sarcastically. "Who is this that you brought back with you?"

"This is Jeremy Adkins," Jake said. "He was with the Watchmen before today..."

"You son of a bitch!" Demetrius interrupted. He rose from his chair, his look of grief was temporarily replaced with the look of blood lusted rage. Jake took a step between them just then.

"He tried to warn the column of the ambush, but the Lieutenant didn't want to hear it," Jake said. "If it were not for him then all of us would be dead, he is on our side now." Jake peered into his friend's eyes. The murder in them still stayed fixated on his perceived enemy. "D-Train, listen to me," Jake reiterated. "We need him."

Demetrius looked like he was going to disregard his friend and kill the foe turned ally anyway, but then he backed down. "Alright, alright," he said, "tell me what you know."

"Well for starters Derrick Warren really is a murderer," Jeremy said.

"Well no shit. I already fuckin know that you idiot!" Demetrius chastised.

"He plans to kill all of you...well all of us now, and then he plans to kill every last person who he believes to be here illegally and bringing down the nation," Jeremy said. Everyone's faces darkened.

"If I would have only arrested him when I had the chance..." Demetrius said his voice full of woe.

"You did what you did with the information you had at the time," Jake said to comfort Demetrius, but to little effect.

"What he was planning to do gentlemen, before I left, was to rally his forces and take this camp by storm," Jeremy said. He looked at the gathered faces, most stared back in disbelief except one. When did the guy with the bandages enter the room?

"Damian, are you sure you are well enough to be here," Demetrius asked, his voice full of concern for his wounded friend.

"By the sound of it, even if I was worse for wear it would do me well to be ready to fight soon," Damian said. As usual he said much less than he understood. It was probably his silence which echoed most in the room.

"The forces of the Watchmen are much more numerous and well organized than you could have expected, as I am sure you have become aware of," Jeremy said. When the other men nodded Jeremy continued, "The ambush today was designed to kill at least a company if not more, but not much more. We knew you would not have air support or fire support and the only help you had was about half an hour away. Once we defeated this smaller force it was believed that the remaining forces here at this camp would be so demoralized and the Watchmen so charged from victory, a final victory by means of storm would be feasible."

"Wait, so you're telling me those maniacs think they can actually overrun our position?" Demetrius said incredulously.

"Wouldn't you have had the same disbelief if had I told you this time yesterday only two of your MPs would survive the mission you were about to send them on?" Jeremy retorted.

"Gentlemen, before we get all hot and bothered again about the past we need to think about the present and our very near future," Jake interjected. Jeremy and Demetrius seemed to retreat to their metaphorical corners when Jake spoke. "We have to put our guns into tactically better positions with good fields of fire and collapse down to a more defensible posture. We will put a platoon of infantry in reserve to plug any holes that begin to open up in our lines, which they will. We must also arm our civilians so they can defend themselves."

"Mr. Church makes a lot of sense," Damian said. As far as Demetrius was concerned if Damian thought it was a good idea then it must be, so he did not voice an objection. "Jeremy, do you know when the Watchmen leader plans to make his assault?"

"Sorry, but no I don't. He is very tight lipped about his plans and time tables," Jeremy answered honestly. "What I do know is this though, he will take no prisoners. Neither military nor civilian will be given quarter. They have machine guns, teargas with launchers, improvised grenades and bombs and the last time that I checked they were trying to improvise a mortar tube or two."

The looks around the room were grim. They were outnumbered, which was never in doubt, but now it seemed the impossible had been made possible. The Watchmen possessed fire support. They captured several automatic grenade launchers which had been mounted to several of the Hummvees, as well as .50 caliber machine guns, and .30 caliber machine guns. They had squad automatic weapons and they had assault rifles and plundered body armor. Did the sparse defenders have enough of a firepower edge to be successful anymore? Were they just counting down the hours they had left on this earth while the enemy mustered their full weight to bear down on them?

"Well then, it looks like we are going to have to get ready as soon as humanely possible if we are going to make it," Demetrius finally relented. The men got up and set about improving their defensive position.

XI

Derrick Warren was sitting in his office after the battle. He pulled out his pack of Marlboro Reds and lit a cigarette. He breathed deeply and savored the taste of fresh tobacco mixed with the smell of his enemy's blood and the taste of victory. He decided that perhaps he could indulge himself in a glass of a certain brandy and perhaps a little while later...the ass of another certain Brandie. Yes, he reveled in his own cleverness and his uncanny ability to pun. He was still reveling when he became acutely aware he was not alone in his office. As quickly as he could he spun around and drew his pirated M9 pistol at the perceived form in the corner.

"Easy Mr. Warren, easy," the dark figure said.

The dark man was of average height and build. He wore a pair of loose fitting khaki cargo pants and a hooded cloak disguising his facial features. He lifted a cigarette with his right hand to what must have been his mouth because the coal glowed red. Derrick hoped the brief increase in light would help him identify the man who had been able to sneak into his office without detection. If he had been an assassin, then Derrick would have been a dead man. He made a mental note to scorn his guards for their inherent lack of situational awareness. Unfortunately for Derrick all the burning ember did was tell him that yes the man had a face, but he could not make out who he was. The dark man blew out a perfect smoke ring. For just a moment Derrick thought he could see the scene of the battle he had missed in the smoke.

"Who are you stranger?" Derrick asked with a slight quiver in his voice. The shock of this man's strange ability to appear still made him edgy.

"I am he who was sent by Him to do His work," the man cryptically replied. He took another long drag on his cigarette. It seemed to entrance Derrick with its deep glow which was somehow unable to pierce the darkness of the man's cloak.

"Why do you come to me then Mister?" Derrick asked. He wanted to say what was really on his mind "Who the fuck are you, and what the fuck do you want?" but realized it would probably be unwise. Prudence seemed to be the word of the day for him with this mystery man.

"Why to admire your work of course, I did so enjoy how you slaughtered those heretics and charlatans in a manner they so richly deserved," the man replied. Yes, the Angel of Death loved it, he reveled in it, and he needed it. This man of the hour could be of use to him to accomplish his Holy tasks. This Levite controlled the populace that would one day be used to return the country to its rightful place under God.

"You did, did you?" Derrick responded. "I am always glad to find another man who thinks as I when it comes to politics and how things should be run." When it came to having his ego stroked, Derrick really didn't care where it came from. This mysterious man admired him and why not? He was the Great Derrick Warren, bringer of peace and virtue. He was restorer of law and order. He would bring America back to its former grandeur.

"As do I Mr. Warren as do I," the dark man said. "You know in this day and age it is so terribly difficult to find a man with a good head on his shoulders."

"Do you wish to join my Watchmen then Mister...?" Derrick asked hoping to get a name as well as a new and sneaky recruit.

"No Mister Warren, I do not. However, we do work toward the same goals you know," he said, "and as for your open ended question I already answered that." If Derrick could not recognize the Avenging Angel of God, then clearly God had chosen not to reveal His presence to the man yet. However, God had shown this Derrick favor with his victory against the tyrant. This was good enough for the Angel of Death to value this man as an asset and possibly a friend.

Derrick was momentarily embarrassed he had been caught trying to get this mystery man to reveal himself. "How do you mean? Of which goals do you speak?" He asked.

"I mean we are both of like mind the government is a tyrannous one, is it not?" the man asked. He waited for Derrick to respond before continuing.

"Why yes then I guess we do, why else would the so called leader of the "free world" have declared martial law on me and sent troops for my head? But we showed them. Oh did we ever show them." Derrick answered with a sneer. He hated the President. He hated Demetrius Raines for trying to enforce his illegal decree. He hated the troops who had been sent against him. He hated...

"Indeed, indeed. Then would you also agree we must do whatever is necessary to bring this change about?" the man asked again. Judging Derrick's response would determine whether or not he would wake up in the morning.

"Yes of course I agree. Why else would I have gone through such lengths to secure every free man's liberty?" Derrick responded. He was getting tired of this man's cryptic speech. If he didn't get to the point soon then he would have to get the hell out. Derrick was an important man nowadays and had no time for this foolishness.

"Well then let me get to the point," the man said seeming to read Derrick's mind, "our common enemy yet lives."

"What are you talking about?" Derrick asked this time truly puzzled.

"The false Church lives, Jake Church lives," he answered. Confessing his failure to kill that letch to another man was painful indeed. This was yet another failure to the Almighty he must repent for.

"Impossible! That mad man blew him up. I saw it on the news I..." Derrick's mouth dropped open as he realized the identity of the man with which he had just been conversing. Derrick raised a trembling finger at the figure and then said, "You, it's you."

"Yes my friend it is I, I am he who was sent by Him to do His work. Now do you see?" the man responded. The Angel of Death smiled under the protective darkness of his cloak and lit a fresh cigarette with the coal of his old one. This Derrick Warren would need a moment to process what had just transpired. Even Moses and Abraham had needed a few moments to collect themselves and realize they had been speaking with an Angel of God. Soon he would realize the Almighty had called him just as he, the Dark Angel, had been called to service.

Derrick's mind was spinning, he didn't know what to think. This guy was evil. The bad guy...wasn't he? If he was then why had he not killed Derrick and the rest of his Watchmen, why did he warn him about Jake's continued existence? If he was on Derrick's side didn't that mean everyone else was on the wrong side, the side of evil and anarchy? This mysterious man could not be evil if this were true. Instead, he must be the greatest of good. He was a man willing to do what it took to restore this country to its rightful place. He was Derrick's first among equals in sharing his vision. Derrick could trust him. Derrick could confide in him. Derrick could be joined with him.

"I see you are troubled my friend," the dark man said with concern. "You see we are not so unlike you and I. Are we not just two Levites trying to make the world righteous once more?"

"You do have a point I guess," Derrick relented. "Would you please sit down and have a drink with me friend?" This man had warned him of peril and had praised his works. It would be wise to offer him a drink to keep on the man's good side.

The man stubbed out the nub of his first cigarette and then placed it in one of his cargo pockets before replying, "No, dear friend, I cannot. A priestly man such as me may not defile myself so, but I shall allow you a drink so long as it does not lead you into drunkenness, of this I make you a stern warning." No one was above God's law. To hear God clearly you had to remain sober. If you were drunk, then that was when the Adversary would take hold of you. Why else would so many bad things happen when people reveled in drunkenness?

Derrick didn't normally drink either, especially when he was alone, but today was special since he had achieved a great victory. Regardless, he did not want to offend his new and powerful friend. Derrick put aside the glass he just poured, but did light another cigarette before asking his next question, "How do you know Jake is alive?" Perhaps this man was lying to him to get him to leave the city undefended.

"I have seen him," he said.

"What? Where?" Derrick asked. He began a coughing fit because it was the last thing he expected to hear. If Jake were still alive then it might throw a cog into all of Derrick's carefully laid plans. His ascendance to power, prestige, and authority hinged on the idea that the government was wrong and people, if left to their own devices, were inherently evil. If Jake were alive then he might be able to rally the people around him because of his earlier heroics.

The dark man smiled before answering, "He was in the vehicle that got away in the battle just now. Did you not see him get out and fire onto your positions?" The Angel of Death had seen him. He raged at the man's continued existence on this earth, but now he kept an outwardly indifferent exterior.

"I did not, I regret to say," Derrick said. "I owe you a debt of gratitude for bringing his continued existence to my attention. I shall ensure he does not continue to breathe for many more days." Any misgivings Derrick still held for this dark stranger fell away. He had shown himself to be a true and powerful friend. One who wanted Derrick to raise to power and experience the wild successes he so dreamed of.

"Brother, do not trouble yourself so," the dark man said. "Both of our needs are met by his destruction and both of us are at a disservice by his continued heretical life." Yes, the Angel of Death had him. This Derrick was his puppet to use to continue God's holy war.

Derrick's mind swam in a renewed flood of hatred at the knowledge that the cocksucker Jake Church was still alive. He had stolen his love. He had taken his Aryan Princess. His anger deepened as he continued to brood over the wrongs Jake had done unto him. Derrick could feel a smile he could not see coming from the dark man. It was most unnerving, but felt like the man was pouring an unseen accelerant onto Derrick's fiery furnace of hatred. Then a spark of hope came from deep within him which put the burning wall of hate on hold. If Jake were alive then maybe Libbi was still alive as well.

"Sir, if this cur Jake lives does my beloved, Libbi Jung, also live?" Derrick asked hopefully. He chewed the inside of his lip until he could taste the warm salty iron of his own blood in his mouth. The silence seemed to be stretching for an eternity. If this guy had knowledge that his beloved was still alive and didn't tell him then...

"I do believe this is a fact," the dark man said. "She lives yet and still clings to the false Church."

"Praise God!" Derrick shouted and then fell to his knees. "If she lives, then she can still be mine. When we kill Jake and destroy the police compound, may I take her for a wife?" Derrick didn't care if Libbi accepted him at first. With time he would make her love him.

The dark man bowed his head at the name of the Almighty before saying, "This is so my friend. It has been told to me by Him, she is to be yours as a reward to your service to Him."

Derrick allowed the hate in his heart for Jake and the loathing of the tyrants who ran this country slip aside. Love warmed him. It washed over him in droves. He wore it like a blanket which for a time kept the bitter cold of hate at bay. He would be with Libbi forever. Sure it might take some time for Libbi to learn to love him as her husband, but he would be ok with that. She would still perform her duties to him as a wife and in time the memory of her past would fade. She would love him as he loved her.

Then as quickly as the love had come over him the renewed thought of Jake standing in his way made it vanish. Jake's continued existence meant Libbi's continued violation by him. Derrick was left feeling emptier and colder than ever before. His heart became a hard glacier of ice again. It was unmoving by and large, but when it did it would cut valleys before him, it would flatten mountains. He looked over his shoulder at the dark man in the corner. Did he know what he was thinking? Was he manipulating his emotions in some way that was other worldly? He stopped caring. Jake had to die and this man would help him do it.

"Will you help me kill him?" Derrick asked. "Will you help me get my love back?" Derrick was desperate now. Desperate to regain the feeling he now could only have the faintest remnants of a memory of.

"The Lord said that it is not good for a man to be alone," the dark man said. "Of course I will help you regain your love. Now let us go and destroy that which stands in our way!"

The two sat in darkness smoking as they planned the final attack designed to wipe out the police and their common arch nemesis Jake Church. Soon the Dark Duo would descend on the last bastion of moral torpidity and snuff it out.

"If you may not indulge in drink, then will you indulge in any other pleasure of the flesh?" Derrick asked his new ally.

"What do you have in mind?" the Angel of Death responded.

Derrick smiled and then said, "How about I show you instead?"

The Angel of Death nodded. Derrick made a call into the hallway and a guard brought in two attractive women who were still wearing uniforms, they had not been executed when they were taken prisoner after the ambush. Their hands were bound behind their backs and at Derrick's instruction they had been lightly sedated with some morphine which had been liberated from Allegheny General Hospital nearby.

"Perhaps I understand you better now," the Angel of Death said smiling although Derrick could not see it. He enjoyed the gift Derrick gave him a few times as Derrick enjoyed his spoils. Yes, they would make a perfect ruling duo and woe to any who would dare defy them.

"Good afternoon and I am Jeff Goodwin on the scene," the newscaster said. He still kept the disheveled look he had acquired over the recent past. The distant look in his eyes told of pain, horror, and intoxication. Apparently he was self medicating with booze even more now that his camera man had been killed before his very eyes.

"Behind me is the police outpost which sits on Sample Road. This is the only remaining law enforcement entity we are aware of in this part of the city or perhaps even in our county," Jeff said. He paused and raised a small bottle of whiskey to his lips. Not only was he breaking with tradition by smoking on national television, now he was drinking on national television as well.

"Earlier today, acting under guidance from the President of the United States to reclaim the cities under the authority granted to him by the Insurrection Act of 1807, a company of military police was slaughtered trying to capture the Watchmen leader Derrick Warren," he said. "We have acquired amateur video of this battle earlier and we will be the first to play it now."

Just then a video took the place of Jeff Goodwin on the screen. It must have been shot by a cell phone or some other small device because it was rather shaky. The images of armored Hummvees making a turn on to North Washington Street filled the full view of the picture. Then all at once it seemed as if the entirety of God's wrath had come down on the luckless soldiers. Men were filmed being shot in the head while they manned weapons mounted to the tops of the Hummvees. Other soldiers were spilling out of the vehicles on fire from incendiary devices thrown into their trucks from above. A white cloud began to fill the street as canisters were fired from the buildings on either side of the road onto the convoy below. Men and women were coughing and choking on what must have been teargas, but none of the soldiers were carrying gas masks with them, or so it seemed. Machineguns opened up and single shots rang out in a symphony of destruction being directed by some malevolent unseen conductor. There was a brief pause in the video just then. When the video returned to filming the carnage, men wearing red arm bands on their upper right arms were walking down the street putting bullets into the heads of the wounded and of anyone they thought was playing dead. The camera panned over to a nearby sidewalk where soldiers had been stripped of their body armor, helmets and weapons. More men with red armbands were walking up behind them with pistols in their hands. One by one they started walking down the line executing the prisoners until they were all dead. The video then went dark.

"As you can see," Jeff Goodwin began again, "the brave men and women who were sent in were ambushed and then mercilessly killed after their defeat. The identity of the soldiers who were killed has not been released as of yet, nor has there been any official count of the number of dead. If it was not clear from the video graphic evidence, the vigilante group called the Watchmen were responsible for this massacre. Our thoughts and prayers go out to the families of those soldiers who gave their lives today. The group has made themselves abundantly clear "do not come in here or you will never leave". Will the Watchmen come out of the city and attack this last outpost of American law and order? Only time will tell."

"In international news," Jeff Goodwin continued, "the North Atlantic Treaty Organization, otherwise known as NATO, has collapsed. Without the support of the United States financially and militarily the alliance had its back bone of support ripped out. As I report this to you the many member countries of the United Nations are also withdrawing. Without the logistical and financial strength of the United States the United Nations has become as impotent as the League of Nations was before World War II. Already conflict worldwide has broken out in areas that had been, until this point, policed by these forces. The main cause seems to be the sudden end in US aid to those nations and to the UN. Without the logistical support only the US Armed Forces could supply, even the most basic humanitarian missions have collapsed. Whatever happens in the coming months and years, one thing is for certain, the third world is on its own."

"On a brighter note Jake Church who was believed to have perished in the explosion that decimated Magoo's Bar and Grille has survived," Jeff Goodwin reported. "He was not in the bar nor was he in his home when the explosions occurred. He was found to be alive and well and he went on the raid which ended so badly earlier today. Through his efforts though, he was able to extract two soldiers who were under siege and return them to this outpost alive."

Dr. Ned Parks had been eavesdropping on the newsman to get an idea of what the outside world would be hearing about today's events. When only one Hummvee and a dirt bike came back from the snatch and grab mission he had a bad feeling something horrible had taken place. Much to his dismay he found out he was right. What made him grow even more concerned was that in America's weakened state the world had come apart at the seams. This guy was attacking that guy, famine, disease, plague, and pestilence. He tried to shake off the bad feeling he was having by doing something that he hadn't done in a long time, digging a fighting position.

Something was therapeutic about mindlessly digging a hole. He had learned how to do it properly some forty years ago and happily his muscles remembered what needed doing so his mind could float freely elsewhere. The Sarandos family dug in nearby as well. Poor Libbi Jung was still a mess and just sat next to the van in the fetal position all day. They had chosen a dip in the ground some landscaper had thought would look nice for a sand trap near the club house. Now the sand trap had been emptied of sand which was put into sandbags and it left a natural area of defilade to have the cannon emplaced in.

It seemed as though everyone's first reaction to the gun was the same disbelief he had first had upon seeing it. Given there was no other fire support to be had, some took comfort in knowing they had a trick up their sleeve, while others enjoyed it as a good joke. Niko and Christos had enough powder to fire the gun a few dozen times with a small charge. Seeing as they could only see a few hundred to meters in front of them, it would be more than adequate. They had a few solid projectiles to lob at the enemy, to include a couple of actual soft balls. This was probably the first time anyone had thought to use one in this fashion, but hey that was American ingenuity at its finest. The one item they seemed to have a greater multitude of were brown paper shopping bags that were filled and taped into cylinders small enough to fit down the muzzle of the gun. Ned assumed the bags must have been filled with grape shot or scrap of some kind. Given the amount of lead projectiles Niko had in his basement, it wouldn't have surprised Ned in the slightest if he had put the real deal in there.

"How long do you think it will be before it happens, Dr. Parks?" Christos asked. He was cleaning the bolt of his Kar98 bolt action World War II German rifle with a scope. As a war gun collector they knew what would be needed for supreme reliability and accuracy when push came to shove.

"Well, if I were them I would make my move soon," Ned responded. "With us being so short staffed and the news broadcasting one defeat after another to the nation, it only makes sense they would want to kick us while we were down," he said putting down his shovel and taking a seat.

"Do you think we can hold on?" Christos asked again. His face was worn with concern.

"Christos," Ned said pausing to take a drink of water from his canteen, "We will either make it or we won't. The real question is this, how many of those bastards will it take to pry us off our little piece of dirt?"

"What do you mean?" Christos asked puzzled. Clearly it was not the answer he was looking for. He wanted to be comforted, reassured they would survive victorious. Giving the enemy a shallow victory did not seem appetizing to him.

Ned smiled and wiped his brow before saying, "Whether or not we live, no one can know and none of us can really influence all that much. What we can influence, what we can control is how expensive we make it for those sons of bitches to dig us out of our holes. Once you accept it and put it in your heart that only the Devine knows when your time on this earth is up, then and only then can you function as a soldier should function. Fear is the real enemy, conquer it and you will find the battle will flow around you like a stream flows around a rock."

When Ned finished his speech, he put a hand on Christos's shoulder and gave him a comforting smile. Christos returned the smile and from the looks in his eyes he had been comforted. That was a good thing. A scared soldier was an ineffective soldier. Given this kid wasn't even a soldier to begin with, it was even more important than ever he not be too frightened. If he could perform under fire the same way he shot in competitions, then he would be an invaluable asset to the defenders giving one shot one kill certainty over extended ranges. Personally, Ned believed anyone worth shooting once was probably worth shooting twice, but that was neither here nor there. Soon they would have to prove themselves. Soon they would be fighting for their lives.

Melani had only fired a gun before a couple of times in her life. An old boy toy of hers had been big into shooting and wanted to impress her with all the big guns he had. A lot of people joked around about how he was probably compensating for something. As it turned out him having all of those guns was just to make up for the almost completely non-existent penis he possessed. She guessed maybe there was something to that line of thinking after all. Generally, a lot of ugly guys drove nice cars to get girls. A lot of short guys drove trucks and were overly aggressive in a way that would make Napoleon blush. Why not then would some guys with really pathetic cocks, have the biggest guns money could buy? Granted there were exceptions to every rule as she knew with Jake, a man who both drove a truck and wasn't short and had guns and was very well endowed.

Melani had fired a couple of rifles and a couple of pistols with that guy, but before today she had never even dreamed of using a machinegun. It was big, black, and sexy. It was raw power incarnate. It was simple, rugged, and beautiful in form and function. It was either your saving grace or it was the grim reaper himself. In some ways she felt perhaps she was a kindred spirit with this mechanism of death. It spat fire and it consumed all it set eyes on. Hungrily it devoured everything fed into it. If you crossed its path at the wrong time you would not live to tell the tale. It was useless unless someone took great care of it and treated it properly. She knew with Jake she had finally found that rare quality of man who could take care of both her and her kindred spirit. He was as skillful with his hands in cleaning and caressing the gun as he was in caressing her mind and body. She would destroy anything who would threaten him just as this gun had protected them during the ambush.

A couple of spent shell casings fell into her shoes during the fire fight and gave her second degree burns on her ankles and the tops of her feet. When exactly that had happened she couldn't be sure as she was too focused on shooting back at the people who were trying to kill her and her man. Now though she was painfully aware of them. During all of the commotion her shoes had worn the blisters of the burns open and they screamed at her now. You never saw this kind of stuff in the movies. Heck in some movies a guy would shoot a hand gun and catch the casing in mid air and act as if it was as cool as ice. Well that's the movies for ya.

"Easy," Melani said to the medic who was cleaning and dressing her wounds.

"Sorry Ma'am," the young man said.

"Don't worry about it, it just hurts a bit," Melani said biting her lip. She understood now why soldiers wore boots and tucked their pants into them. She made a solemn decision to never make the mistake again of going outside the wire without proper boots and her pants tucked neatly into them.

"What you did today saved the lives of those two men you know," the medic said as he dabbed ointment on her burns. "I only wish I could have been there too."

The name on the medic's jacket said Spitz. Melani thought with a name like that in as macho of a profession as the army probably caused him a lot of grief when he was in basic training. The only way it could have been worse was if he had been teamed up with a guy named Swallows. She chuckled in spite of herself.

The medic Spitz was an attractive guy in a homely kind of way. He was the type of guy you would expect to be living next door. He stood about six feet tall and had the build of a marathon runner. He had a buzzed head and deep brown eyes. His fingers worked with the deftness someone in his trade should have. They reminded her of piano player's hands. Had she met him a few weeks before, or not have been so in love with Jake, she might have been tempted to try them out. However she had her man, and she would do nothing to betray him.

"Now let me take a look at that nasty little gash on your head," Spitz said.

"What gash?" Melani said.

The medic put something on a cotton ball and then applying it to the wound said, "This gash."

"Fuck me running!" Melani swore, "What the hell is that?" It felt as if he had poured acid onto her scalp.

"Don't mind if I do," the medic said with a coy smile and a wink. "This is just an antiseptic so we can clean out the wound so you don't get an infection. If it burns that means you needed it and that it's working." Spitz continued to dab the wound before adding, "Looks like you were lucky, some piece of debris or maybe a ricochet got ya. Had it been a little lower or if your head had been at a different angle you might have wound up like the poor bastard you replaced on the gun."

The thought of being killed hadn't occurred to her until now. She rarely thought about the consequences of her actions or inactions ever in her life, but this one struck home. Had she not been sitting just right she would have been dead. She would have died never telling Jake how much she loved him. She turned her head slightly to look in the direction of where Jake had walked off to his meeting with the head police guy, an old buddy of his from high school. If they made it out of this alive she would tell him how she felt. She would confess to him how he meant everything to her. How he was her reason for being, how she lived and breathed because he was in this world. She wouldn't force him to stop seeing Lib and she would tell him that. She would let him know she was willing to do anything for him to guarantee his continued happiness. If he wanted to add someone else that wouldn't fly, but Lib had been there from the beginning so it was only fair. Plus, it wasn't like she hadn't learned to enjoy her friend in a way she never thought she have before. The medic let out a little snort because she had complicated his work by inclining her head away from him.

"Ya know this would go a lot quicker if you just sat still there," he said to her in an annoyed tone.

"Sorry," Melani said half heartedly, "I guess my mind was wandering."

"Don't worry about it," he said. "So what's your name?"

"Oh I'm sorry, I forgot my manners," Melani said. "My name is Melani, Melani Prescott. What's yours?"

"My name is Jack, Jack Spitz," the medic said, "and before you say it. Yes I know how it sounds and yes basic training was hell. As was high school and so was growing up." The medic said with a smile.

Specialist Spitz thought she was quite possibly the prettiest girl he had ever seen. She was a short fiery red head who could handle a gun. Could there be anything sexier than that? He thought not. Maybe if he played his cards right maybe he could convince her to sneak off into the wood line for a little romp before the shit hit the fan down here.

"Well Jack, thanks for fixing me up," Melani said. "If I get any more boo boos I'll make sure to find you."

Before Melani could jump off of the table she was sitting on, Jack decided to make his move saying, "Well Melani, I was thinking maybe in a little while after everything settles down, maybe we could take a walk and you can tell me about what happened today. You know a comforting shoulder to lean on and a person to talk to."

Melani saw through this blatant come on and said, "Look buddy I appreciate you taking care of my injuries, but if you ever make that kind of a pass at me again I will cut off your balls and shove them up your ass. You understand me?"

"Yeah, yeah," Spitz said flabbergasted, "I got it, don't worry about me none."

"I had better not have to worry about you," Melani said glaring at him. With that said she got up and walked in the direction Jake had gone half an hour before. She was proud of herself at turning down a guy only a week or two before she would have probably bedded. She loved her man and would do anything for him.

"No, no, no, no, no!" Jake shouted unrelentingly. "That kind of a plan is sheer madness if not literal suicide!"

"Jake you are not the one in charge here," Demetrius said equally unrelenting.

"Haven't you learned a damned thing from any of this shit yet?" Jake shouted again.

"Gentlemen," Damian interjected before Demetrius could respond. "Perhaps a five minute respite would cool our tongues a bit and let you reflect on how better to get along and get this figured out."

"You're right," Jake relented.

"Fine," Demetrius agreed.

As Jake walked off out into the hallway he found Jeremy was in tow close behind him. This guy seemed to be his new shadow nowadays. Maybe it was because they shared a bond of military service and joint sacrifice only military men could understand. Maybe it was because he just realized what Demetrius was proposing was plain and simple lunacy.

"Can you believe he wants to do that?" Jeremy said panting as he jogged to catch up to Jake, his back aching.

"No, I can't," Jake responded. "He saw what happened when he went in with a company of soldiers. What makes him think a SWAT team and some patrolmen will have better luck?"

"I'm telling you Derrick and his lackey's are going to hit us and hit us soon," Jeremy said. "If we are short on men when they attack, they will slaughter us without even breaking a sweat. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if Derrick was sitting there praying we make that kind of mistake."

For reasons unbeknownst to Jake and Jeremy, Demetrius had it in his head a single SWAT team and a few patrolmen in police cars would be able to apprehend Derrick more effectively than a company of heavily armed and armored soldiers. Jake guessed in Demetrius's mind the people had risen up at the idea of a military occupation of the cities. What he failed to realize was this wasn't a ragtag unhappy mob which destroyed the patrol. This wasn't a group of disorganized rioting looters angry about some social injustice. What they were dealing with was a well organized insurgency led by a megalomaniac with more than a couple of screws loose. If they went back into the city with such a paltry force, they would only be serving up another massacre and another public relations disaster. Just holding on to the ground they still had was going to be an ordeal. Granted, staying on the defensive was not palatable, but when it was defend or die what choice did you have?

"I see that, you see that, how do you propose we make him see that?" Jake asked nearing his wits end. "Whatever happens, you are sure Derrick intends on attacking us here soon?" he asked Jeremy.

"Without a doubt Sergeant, without a doubt," Jeremy replied.

Jeremy had spent a majority of the time after the takeover of the city drunk out of his mind. He had witnessed too many summary executions and far too many injustices at the hands of Derrick Warren's henchmen. The only way he knew to silence the voice in his head who still reminded him of loyalty, duty, selfless-service, honor, integrity, and personal courage was by drowning him in booze. It was during one of those sessions Derrick had disclosed to him that he wanted a contingency plan to overrun the joint police and National Guard outpost. Of course this was before he planned the ambush on the Guard soldiers and before Derrick let him in on his version of the final solution. Jeremy's plan hinged on attacking the post after giving them a kick in the nuts elsewhere within a day or two, this way he would be able to capitalize on the morale boost to the vigilantes and the morale pitfall for the opposition. Little could Jeremy have anticipated at the time, he would be part of the opposition before this came to an end.

"Why is Jake being so stubborn about this?" Demetrius asked of Damian nearing his wits end.

Jake had been a stubborn mule since his football days. It was one of the things they had in common. It had made them a nasty tag team on a blitz. However, the problem here was now he was using his stubbornness against Demetrius, which was something he would rather not experience. Why couldn't Jake see in order to maintain law and order the police had to police the people? In Demetrius's mind it was the decision to send in the military police which caused the town to revolt in the first place. Americans loved freedom and having troops in body armor with machine guns and assault rifles coming into the city sent the message they lived in a police state. Americans did not stand for tyranny or oppression. He should have gone with his gut instinct to send in real police officers. To him, it would have been a simple serving of an arrest warrant. What he couldn't know was there would have been a greater slaughter if he had.

"Well boss, I think our boy might have a point," Damian replied.

By and large Damian kept his mouth shut. Most people lived by the credo that the squeaky wheel got the grease. Damian believed it was most frequent that the squeaky wheel got replaced instead. This was why, for the most part, he kept his thoughts to himself and did what he was told unless his opinion was asked, in which case he would give a very vanilla response. However there were exceptions to every rule and this was one of them.

"Not you too," Demetrius said sorrowfully. "I thought if anyone could see what we needed to do here it would be you."

"Boss, I will follow you either way. You know that," Damian responded. "But really this has gone and mutated into something neither you nor I have ever seen firsthand."

"How do you figure?" Demetrius asked truly perplexed.

Damian thought hard for a moment and then chose his words carefully before saying, "What we are dealing with here isn't a police action anymore. This is not keeping the peace in a town full of law abiding citizens. Hell, this isn't even like taming a riot, bringing down a mob boss, or even taking on a turf war with a gang. This is a full-fledged insurgency. Now I know you wanted Mr. Church in on this show from the beginning because he has seen what we haven't, and has firsthand experience in things we don't. Pittsburgh is closer in form and function to being Mogadishu or Baghdad than it is to being an American town. Jake is the only one of us who has experience when it comes to stuff like this. Why do you doubt your decision about bringing him in now?"

"I guess maybe you right...damn it," Demetrius relented ruefully. "How did it come to this though? How did we lose our identity and dignity as citizens of the United States and let ourselves become the third world?"

"Well," Damian began, "How can you be a citizen of something that doesn't really exist in the first place?" The look on Demetrius's face was one of utter shock, but before he could say anything Damian continued, "A country only exists because its citizens say it does. Laws are only followed because it is the only way to ensure the stability of our every day make-believe lives. The only way we can maintain the status quo is to go along with what everyone agreed to and punish those who deviate from the norm. Once the ruling parties are unable or unwilling to provide for their citizenry, law and order collapses. National identity and law and order are no more tangible than the air we breathe. No more concrete than the philosophizing of long dead Greek philosophers rambling on and on about the four fluids or the four elements. Do you really believe the money in your wallet right now actually has value of its own? No, it only has value because enough people have agreed it does. It has happened in countries throughout time and history from the fall of Tsarist Russia and the rise of the Soviet Union to the fall of Napoleon and the rise of another one of their Republics. People under duress and unable to meet their most basic of needs are snapped out of their collective dreams of imagined grandeur and belonging and realize the harsh realities of the world. It is a hard and violent wake up from this beautiful waking dream and we are in the middle of it right now."

Demetrius couldn't believe what he was hearing from his friend and so he asked, "So if this is all imaginary, and the feelings we all feel as Americans don't really exist, then why may I ask did you decide to serve it? Why risk your life day in and day out for something that is really moot?"

"Simple," Damian said, "sometimes the truth is stranger and more horrible than the lie. Sometimes the comfort from a shared belief in something that is not really there is more beneficial to the common good than when it is allowed to go away. National identity and the keeping of law and order is one of those things, or it was before now. However with the events of the recent past, we have been awakened from our dreams of peace and we have been plunged into the reality of the human condition. Man's great ability to do good deeds and to be so remarkably noble is tempered by its knowledge of evil and desire to stray from the path of righteousness. If I were to stand aside and allow evil things to happen when I could help prevent them, would I not be even worse than those who would perpetrate those actions? Some things, even things you cannot really see or touch, are worth defending with your life."

Demetrius was left speechless. Damian had opened a door to the inner sanctuary of his soul. Even more unbelievable was he had spoken more than his usual two sentence maximum. So articulate were his points he could have been Socrates himself speaking on the nature of the gods. Demetrius was left in a state of complete awe at the wisdom of his friend. Could it really be that simple? Could it really be true everything we had placed so much faith in was really just a fantasy? Demetrius was still pondering along these thoughts when Jake and Jeremy came back into the office.

"Demetrius," Jake began, "I really think sending out the SWAT team and a few patrolmen will only invite two massacres. The first of those massacres being those guys we send out to go arrest this fucker. Then the other one will be of the guys we leave behind here. I cannot in good conscience let you continue on this path which will lead to our downfall."

"I agree entirely Sir," Jeremy said to Demetrius. "I know what Derrick wants, he wants us to leave. If he divides us we will be goners for sure. He won't leave anything that breathes alive here. He is bent and determined to make sure he crushes every last bit of resistance to his will. Our best chance is to wait for the inevitable attack. At least here we have food, water, and ammo, not to mention some pretty good cover. Honestly, I don't think it will be more than a day or two at the max before they come down on us. If he wants to maintain control he needs to keep delivering up victories over his perceived enemies to his followers, otherwise his true madness will be made known. He needs to blot us out in order to gain full legitimacy. We can't let that happen. If ever there was a time when the United States couldn't be allowed to fail, it is now."

"D-Train," Jake said with a look of concern on his face, "Are you ok man? You haven't said anything or even blinked in the past couple of minutes."

Demetrius, who was unaware he was still staring out into space, was suddenly snapped out of his deep thought. "Yeah, I'm ok," he said. "After some careful consideration I think maybe you are right, we need to stick it out here. Also I've realized this is kinda beyond my scope and pay grade as a police officer. Jake will you take command until this is over? I think I would be remiss in my duties if I didn't offer it to a man who is better qualified than I."

Jake held out his hand to his friend and said, "We are in this together and we will get through it together, or I will die trying."

XII

Luca Verona fit most stereotypes for the quintessential Italian kid who grew up in the Bronx. He was a short five foot six and he spoke with an accent at times even though he was a second generation American. He had dark hair that if he let grow long became a shimmering wave of black. He smoked heavily because he never really knew what air without the smell of tobacco flavoring it smelled like. In his part of the neighborhood kids either grew up to be cops or they grew up to be criminals. His father, who worked three jobs to keep his family fed, wanted him to get away from all of that and to be the first of his family to go to college. In order to accomplish this lofty goal, Luca joined the Ohio Army National Guard so he could attend Ohio State tuition free. His hair was cut short now and he could run two miles in ten minutes despite his smoking habit. Today he was getting ready to go out on a recon patrol with his squad of riflemen from Charlie Company.

"Hey Verona," his squad leader shouted, "You're on point for the recon today."

"Hooah," Luca replied. Luca thought English was quite a strange language indeed. How else could one word mean everything else but the word no?

Luca wanted to get out and take the fight to the bitches who would execute innocent civilians and surrendering soldiers. To Luca there was nothing lower than that, hell he had even been in fights as a kid where he let the guy get back up when he had knocked him on his ass only a moment before hand. Honor was so ingrained in him from such an early age that he found the army a pretty decent fit.

Luca had done this type of patrol only twenty four hours before so the lay of the land was still fresh in his mind. It was a handy thing too because nightfall had rolled in a thick fog a couple of hours before. When deployed overseas the soldiers of the 1-148 infantry battalion had night vision devices to aide in night time movements. Given they were stateside no one had thought to bring them. The one edge they held over the vigilantes in night time operations was sitting comfortably secured in their arms room in the middle of Ohio.

Luca closed his eyes and breathed in the nighttime air and savored it. Dampness was the first thing he tasted, and then he caught the smell of the blowing pines swaying in the mist. The sounds of cicadas thrummed in the trees and the sounds of frogs added to the symphony of the natural world around him. Turkeys and deer had learned the hard way that this was no longer a safe grazing area after the golf course was militarized. He knew the smells of dead animals from a summer he spent working on a farm in Plain City, Ohio. Those smells were there as well.

"Noise and light discipline gentlemen," the squad leader said. "Move out."

The nine men moved quietly through their lines and into the woods. They performed the patrol in a methodical manner. They would move a hundred or so meters and then they would stop and form a security perimeter, there they would take in their surroundings. They listened for the sounds of rustling leaves and breaking twigs. They watched for movement and breathed the air to try and detect any change. Luca moved through the woods surprisingly well seeing as before his time in the army he had only seen trees on television and in the park. He moved as if he was one with nature, he floated through the mist of the fog and the darkness of night like a shadow.

They had been patrolling for a few hours and were laying in a security perimeter again before dawn started to break. Luca could feel the air get cooler right before the sunrise. While he didn't like being awake around this time of day, he did so much enjoy watching the sun come up over the horizon of trees so much more than the horizon of buildings. Just then the cicadas stopped their thrumming and the frogs stopped their singing. The air was too calm and the nearing dawn too silent. Luca felt the hair on the back of his neck begin to rise.

"Sergeant," Luca said in a hushed whisper.

"Damn it private what the hell did I tell your Dago ass about noise discipline?" the squad leader said back.

"Sergeant, somethin don't feel right," Luca said. "The animals all went quiet at the same time. No bugs, no birds, no frogs, no nothin. I think there might be someone out there."

"Are you sure?" the squad leader said.

"Yeah, there is someone out there alright or maybe even a few some ones," Luca replied.

"Verona, we are those some ones you jack ass," the squad leader replied. "You are just getting too edgy and tired from being on point all night. We are on the home stretch. Just stay up another half hour or so and we'll be back in the rack before you know it."

"Sergeant," Luca said again with a pause, "It's not us, we need to stay put just another couple minutes."

"Shut up Verona and relax. We are gunna head out," the squad leader said with conviction.

As the squad leader made the hand gesture to stand up a bullet tore through the side of his neck and sent a fountain of blood shooting skyward. Most of the squad was on their feet as well when the first burst of machinegun fire sliced into them. Luca was still on the ground and he thanked God he had not decided to stand up just then. He couldn't make out exactly where the fire was coming from. Contrary to most popular beliefs, muzzle flashes are in fact very misleading and are much more difficult to spot in real life. Luca hugged the dirt and pulled his body toward the downed sergeant who still clutched the radio. He writhed across the ground never wanting to raise his body any higher than he had to. A few of the wounded men were returning fire in all directions to little effect. More men were getting hit and were dying when he finally got to the radio.

"Steeler Six, Steeler Six, this is Rock Two One, over," Luca shouted into the radio.

Luca prayed the crap radios that the army carried would actually work or have the range when he needed it most. Waiting for a reply felt like it took hours. Perhaps it was because he knew his time in this life was limited, but finally the radio crackled to life.

"This is Steeler Six Romeo go ahead," the radio operator replied in a calm tone of indoctrinated indifference.

"Steeler Six we are in heavy contact near sector seven, break," Luca said. He paused to compose himself before he spoke again, "Machine gun fire has us pinned down we are decisively engaged and we have many casualties rendering us combat ineffective. I say again, we are combat ineffective, over."

"Rock Two One what is your estimate of the enemy composition and disposition, over," the radio operator said again.

"Exact numbers unknown, estimate a company sized element plus, break," Luca responded. "Assortment of small arms fire coming from the north, no indirect fire at this time, over."

Just then a new voice came on the radio, "Rock Two One this is Steeler Six Actual you must break contact and return to the perimeter. I say again break contact and return to the perimeter."

"Wilco Steeler Six, Rock Two One out," Luca said.

Luca looked around and saw the leaves and trees were disintegrating all around him at an alarming speed. There were two other soldiers who were still firing their weapons at the perceived enemy everyone else had stopped moving except for the occasional twitch. Luca thought he could see people moving towards him from their right flank although most of the fire they were taking was coming from the front.

"Cyclic rate of fire to the right, one belt liked, get on those SAWs!" Luca yelled to the two remaining soldiers. Since he sounded like he knew what he was doing the two other soldiers obeyed.

Luca hadn't been in the army all that long, but the one thing they taught him early on was to lay down a base of fire on the enemy and then to move an assaulting force into their flank. That way there would be bullets flying from multiple directions which would pin the enemy down until the assault force could overrun the position. He had a bad feeling maybe a few ex-army guys were on the wrong side of the fight and if he didn't do something quickly then he would be the enemy being overrun. By having the two other soldiers rip off a full belt from the light machineguns at the enemy assaulting force Luca hoped he would buy himself some time to evacuate.

Fresh screams of wounded men came from the direction he had the machine gunners fire in. Luca loaded a high explosive round into his M-203 grenade launcher and fired it into the area as well. Some screams stopped when the grenade went off while others replaced them. He had guessed right and if he could judge the battle by the screams, then he might have just bought himself a window of opportunity to escape. Luca began to load and fire smoke grenades from his grenade launcher in a screen directly in front of them to conceal their position from the guys who were still shooting at them from the front.

"On my next smoke begin bounding back," Luca shouted over the din of battle. "Bound back individually until we either break contact or until we get some support, got it?"

Luca waited for their nods and then fired his smoke round. "Go!" he shouted. They began bounding back firing as they went. Leaving men behind felt unnatural, it was wrong. Luca hoped that if he survived this he would be able to come back and retrieve his fallen friends.

Jake had not slept much since the massacre down town. Images flooded his dreams and bathed them in the horrors of that day and of days gone by. He wondered what his army doc would have said about this "stressor" on his post traumatic stress syndrome. The thought made him chuckle and brought a smile to his face. Knowing that impending doom was on the horizon probably didn't help either. Jake, Damian, and Demetrius slept in eight hour shifts nowadays so one of them would be up all the time in case something happened. Jake drew the straw putting him on early morning to mid afternoon shift. He was still asleep when he was shaken awake by a frantic police officer.

"Mr. Church, Mr. Church," the officer said shaking him.

"What, what is it?" Jake said immediately alert.

"One of our patrols is under heavy attack and has sustained many casualties," the officer said.

"Fuck," Jake shouted, "Get me to the radio fast."

The police officer and Jake went running down the hall where the radio operator was talking to the beleaguered squad. Much to his amazement though the rest of the outpost appeared to be still half asleep, no quick reaction force was suiting up. No alerts had been made and civilians were beginning to roll out of bed and go to the chow line for breakfast. The gun fire and explosions didn't seem to be getting through to them that there was a formidable danger approaching. On a positive note at least the guys on duty had the sense to wake up Jake and Damian. Demetrius was still on watch and appeared to be paralyzed by indecision and fear. The speaker on the radio began to chatter once more.

"Exact numbers unknown, estimate a company sized element plus, break," the voice on the radio said. "Assortment of small arms fire coming from the north, no indirect fire at this time, over."

An entire company versus a squad was an invitation to massacre. They had to get out of there and they had to get out of there fast. Why hadn't Demetrius given the order to break contact yet? Jake looked at his friend, he had never seen a pale black man before, but today Demetrius could have passed for a very tan Irishman.

Jake took the microphone out of the radio operators hand and then said, "Rock Two One this is Steeler Six Actual you must break contact and return to the perimeter. I say again break contact and return to the perimeter."

"Wilco Steeler Six, Rock Two One out," the man said.

"Alright everybody this is the real deal," Jake said. "Raise the alarm and go to 100% security and be ready for the first waves of the attack. Get the civilians down and if they can carry a firearm put them where they will be of most use, but for God's sake get them out of the damned chow line. You," Jake pointed to the closest man in ACUs, "Raise a QRF, I would prefer a platoon, but if you can get a fully armed squad out there faster, then do it. We have buddies getting cut to pieces out there and we need to rescue them."

"Yes sir!" the young private first class said and then he went running out of the door.

"I want snipers or anything we have close to snipers on the roof right now and get them a radio," Jake said. "They are to report everything they see and to shoot at targets of opportunity. Let's move people!"

As Jake looked out of the window two up armored Hummvees went tearing out in the direction of the smoke was rising out of the woods. The turret gunners were only half way dressed and had their helmets on. Jake knew the feeling they must have been experiencing. Panic mixed with adrenaline all in the goal of rescuing their surviving friends and getting them back to friendly lines as soon as possible. To hell with their personal appearance or safety, they had buddies in need of rescue. Jake took a moment to bow his head and said a quick prayer.

"Lord Savior Jesus Christ Son of God, have mercy on a sinner and save me," Jake muttered. "Archangel Michael, protect us from our enemies slings and arrows and grant us victory for His name's sake. Amen."

After doing the Orthodox cross he opened his eyes and looked up. Melani had appeared next to him and was mimicking his cross. Where had she come from? She had her rifle slung across her body just like Jake had shown her a few days prior. She had acquired a drop leg holster that attached around her toned thigh much like Jake's for her pistol as well.

"What do you need me to do?" Melani asked of Jake.

The fire that had once burned in her eyes when she was hunting Jake had returned. Only this time it wasn't a sexual hunger that burned in them, this time it was protective and primal. He had seen that look in many soldier's eyes before a battle. She was ready for war.

"I want you to stay down and keep an eye on Libbi," Jake said with the hope she wouldn't see his blatant attempt to keep her out of the action.

"Jake I'm not stupid and I'm not leaving you," Melani said matter-of-factly.

"Alright then stay with me and hopefully neither of us will have to shoot our guns," Jake relented with a half frown.

Jake looked out the window and heard the sound of two .50 caliber machine guns hammering in the dawning hours. Hopefully those were the two that the Hummvees mounted and they would soon be headed back to the compound with three soldiers. Jake closed his eyes and prayed again.

Ned awoke with a start when he heard the sound of small arms fire. It took him a moment to realize the hole he laid in now was not in Southeast Asia. Libbi was not in the pit any longer. Ned hoped she had gone inside to go to the bathroom or was in line to get food. The Sarandos family was waking up and Ned went over to them.

"Hey this is it," Ned said to them. "They are coming and we appear to be in a fight out there a hundred or so meters out. I'm just hoping we jumped them and not vice versa."

"What do we do?" Christos asked.

Ned looked around before saying, "Christos I need you to get on the roof and for you to use those amazing shooting skills of yours to knock off as many bad guys as possible."

"Got it," Christos said with a smile before he ran off toward the main building sniper rifle in tow.

"Jaime, Maria, go with him," Niko said. "You can do the most good up there too."

Ned realized Niko was probably right, but also realized Niko wanted to make sure his family was as safe as possible during the fight. Niko was going to sit tight with Ned though. The cannon was emplaced here after all and so was the stockpile of extra weapons and ammunition.

"Do you want a scope for your M-14?" Niko asked Ned.

"Wouldn't know what to do with it if I had one, but thanks," Ned answered with a smile. "Do you have any extra magazines or ammo for it though?"

"Do I have ammo," Niko said with a chuckle, "don't you remember what the downstairs of my house looked like?"Niko walked over to the car and pulled out two ammo cans full of unopened boxes of ammunition. He then picked up a small cardboard box full of empty twenty round magazines and then said, "How is this for starters?"

"Looks good," Ned said with a chuckle.

Just then Libbi jumped back into the hole and asked, "What do you need me to do?"

"Load magazines for now," Ned said, "and then when they get closer you will probably need to shoot too. Here take this." Ned gave her the AR-15 she had been carrying up until she had her break down.

Single rifle shots began to bark from the roof of the country club turned headquarters. Niko smiled and then said, "It looks like there are three less bad guys we won't have to worry about."

Derrick cursed the bad luck of running into a patrol before he was ready. He had chosen to come this way because he thought the idiot Guardsmen wouldn't think to patrol in a direction that wasn't as obvious for his group to attack from. He cursed even louder now as he learned that three soldiers made it away alive and had managed to thwart a flanking attack he had personally ordered. He wanted to draw first blood, but maybe he would be able to pull this off regardless.

"How are we coming on the captured weapons and the improvised mortars?" Derrick asked into the radio.

"Give me five minutes sir and we will be in good range and be able to make'em pay," the man on the other side said.

"Alright fine," Derrick said annoyed. "Hey drivers are you ready with our first surprise in the next couple of minutes?"

"Yes, sir give us the word and we will send in the first one," the voice said.

"Alright when you see those two trucks headed back I want you to send in the first one," Derrick responded.

"Sending it now," the voice replied.

Just then a car laden with explosives came roaring down Sample Road toward the main gate now lying open to allow the rescue trucks back in. With any luck the car would make it inside their perimeter before it went off, thus maximizing damage. If it didn't work out that way then there was enough explosive and shrapnel in there to make a nasty hole. All of a sudden it looked like every machine gun the enemy had was firing at the bomb laden suicide car. It was stopped short of the gate when it went off. The blast momentarily stunned both sides. Dirt and debris was raining down from the sky and a cloud of smoke and dust enveloped the gate. When the smoke started to clear Derrick could see the gap.

"Go, go, go," Derrick shouted into his radio, "hit'em with everything you got!"

Derrick was the director of this symphony of destruction. Two captured automatic grenade launchers lobbed grenades into the compound. He told them to just go ahead and shoot all the rounds they had for it off the bat, which came to twenty rounds per gun. Explosions boiled inside the compound. Derrick smiled a wolfish smile. Other captured machine guns sprayed bullets at anything that dared to raise its head. Perhaps this would prove to be a little easier than he had originally thought. Although Derrick hadn't given the order yet, a few enterprising squads were making a rush for the hole in the main gate. Well aimed sniper fire from the roof of the country club made them pay dearly for any advance they made.

"Mortars are you ready?" Derrick asked into the radio.

"Yeah, just about," the answer came, "what do you want us to shoot?"

"I want you to try and land a few bombs on top of that building. If we can cave in the roof all the better, but we need to put those snipers out of action," Derrick said.

"Ok boss, here goes nuttin," the voice said.

The mortars were nothing more than heavy hollow plumbing pipes that were set at a forty five degree angle. He wasn't sure how exactly these guys had rigged the two things to fire but it couldn't have been too difficult. They were just wide enough to shoot some of the pipe bombs they made earlier when they attacked the gang down town. A simple fuse was what caused the bomb to detonate. Derrick hoped it would work. The tubes roared and rang with a deep and bellowing thud. No, mortars in real life definitely did not make the classic Hollywood thumping sound. The first few bombs fell behind the building.

"Damn it, I told you I wanted you to hit the building you sons of bitches!" Derrick screamed into the radio.

"Hey boss this actually does resemble rocket science," the voice retorted, "Well part rocket science part black magic ya know, the tube has a mind of its own."

"Tube has a mind of its own..." Derrick said in a mixture of frustration and exasperation, "What the fuck, they are pieces of steel how the fuck do they have a mind of their own?"

"That's where the black magic part comes in boss, hold on," the voice said. In the back ground Derrick heard the improvised mortar man yell "Hang it, fire!"

Derrick not so much heard the thud as he felt it. He saw the pipe bombs flying through the air to their intended target and then again as they arced downward. This time they exploded short of the roof, on the plus side though it looked like they had done some damage to the men defending on the ground. A secondary larger explosion sang from what Derrick assumed was a parked vehicle or an ammo dump. A truck was thrown skyward as troops scattered to escape the falling debris. Maybe it wasn't such a bad shot after all.

"Keep up the good work fellas, out," Derrick said into the radio.

Jeremy was running like a man possessed. He tried to warn the police and the soldiers about how Derrick would attack soon, but it appears as though his warnings were going unheeded. He suddenly realized what Cassandra must have felt like in Homer's Iliad when she warned the horse was not a peace offering and no one had listened.

"Incoming!" someone yelled.

Jeremy dove flat on the ground instinctively. His back screamed, but his body remembered what needed doing when it was put in a combat situation. Explosions sang, two were obviously from improvised devices and a few others were probably rounds launched from the automatic grenade launchers Jeremy had warned the higher ups about. He had to get to the hole in the line. He had to make sure the Watchmen did not get inside the wire. If they did then it would be all over quickly. The snipers which had positioned themselves on the roof were helping, but without a machine gun or some larger piece of firepower to plug the hole, it would be too little too late. How had Derrick thought of using vehicle born IEDs anyhow?

"Anyone that's still standing on me!" Jeremy yelled.

A few dazed soldiers were gathering themselves and rallied at the cry of a voice sounding as if it had some authority. Jeremy climbed into a partially disabled Hummvee whose engine was burning and manned the .30 caliber machine gun it boasted as a main armament. Thankfully it was still in working order and had a few belts worth of ammunition remaining. The other few soldiers looked in amazement at a guy who was climbing into and not out of a burning vehicle.

Machine gun fire from the Watchmen concentrated on Jeremy as he charged the machine gun and began firing it. The first wave of Watchmen was so close he didn't even need to aim to cut them down. He ran dry on ammo and then loaded the second belt.

"Soldier," Jeremy shouted between bursts, "I need another belt of ammo!"

The soldier fired two more shots in the direction of the enemy and then ran to get another belt of ammunition. Jeremy kept to short bursts to expand the amount of time he could bring this weapon to bear on the enemy. Where was the guy with the ammo anyway? Suddenly Jeremy felt as though he had been punched in the chest by a world champion boxer. He realized he had stopped shooting and could taste blood in his mouth. It was hard to breathe. Maybe he had just got the wind knocked out of him? At first he didn't hurt so he figured that must be it, but then came the pain. He looked down and saw a neat hole in his chest with blood was pooling out of it. By the way it was foaming and by the way he was becoming light headed and cold he knew this was it. He pulled the charging handle back on his machine gun and fired off another long burst to take as many of those bastards out with him as he could. That little voice he had tried so long and hard to silence with whiskey, was telling him that he had done the right thing. He was a good man and a good soldier, he was forgiven for his past sins, he was a good... The pain stopped, the voice gave him comfort for a little while longer and then Jeremy was gone. His body slumped over in the turret and for the first time since this whole God awful shitty mess began, he was at peace. The battle of Sample Road had begun.

Ned and Niko continued to pour fire into the enemy. This group seemed to be only the first wave as no one else was following them through. Perhaps if they got a foothold then the rest of the Watchmen would pour in? The machine gun at the hole which was so critical in turning back the main attack suddenly fell silent.

"Niko I think things are about to get a little rougher," Ned said.

Niko carefully aimed his M1 Garand at one of the remaining Watchmen and pulled the trigger before saying, "Then we probably shouldn't waste our time worrying about it then should we?" Niko pulled the trigger again methodically only the area in which he was shooting didn't seem to contain any advancing Watchmen.

"Niko," Ned asked carefully, "What exactly are you shooting at?"

Niko gave him the look that one might give a very young child who had just asked a very stupid question and said, "I'm shooting at the bad guys Ned. You know the ones on those machine guns who just killed one of our guys."

Ned felt a flush of embarrassment and said, "Oh, ya, I knew that." He followed Niko's lead and started to put a couple rounds of his own in the same direction as Niko had just been firing. Although Ned had no idea exactly who he was shooting at or even if he was having any effect.

The shooting died down as the day wore on. The Watchmen continued to launch their improvised mortars which more often than not hit nothing, but was more than enough to keep most people edgy. Snipers on both sides of the line were exchanging pot shots on each other and on men who hadn't learned to stay down yet and never would. Any other day, a sunset like the one tonight would have been one Ned would have sat and enjoyed. Tonight though the deep red of dusk reminded him all too much of the red now streaking the well manicured green of the golf course. Men and pieces of men cast small shadows on the ground as they lay in their final resting places. Ned fought back an urge to vomit and tried to lock back up images of blood soaked rice paddies from a lifetime long gone.

"Miss Jung will you do me a favor and hand me that tarp?" Ned asked.

"Sure Dr. Parks, but what do you need the tarp for?" Libbi asked.

"Because you never smoke out in the open when it gets dark, or you're asking to have your head shot off," Ned said in a flat tone.

"Oh," Libbi said with a pause before saying, "do you mind if I join you under there cuz I could really use one after today?"

"Of course, Niko will you keep an eye out while we have a smoke?" Ned asked.

"Sure, just move away from where we are keeping the powder for the cannon," Niko said with a nod in the direction of the aforementioned piece.

"Right," Ned said, "to be honest I completely forgot we were sitting on top of a giant bomb."

Ned and Libbi stayed low and moved to another dip in the terrain some landscaper had thought would make this hole more difficult. Ned would have bet dollars to doughnuts that whoever had designed this golf course had never imagined it would become a battlefield. The dip was just big enough for Dr. Parks and his paunchy form to fit along side of Libbi's exquisitely crafted body. As Ned pulled the tarp over the two of them, Libbi lit her cigarette and then Ned lit his. Lying side by side with this beauty and the tarp pulled over them let Ned slip into a daydream where he and her had just made love and were now smoking in the glorious afterglow. Libbi began to cry.

"It's ok Miss Jung," Ned said in a soothing tone as he put an arm around her, "everything will turn out alright."

"No," Libbi said through her gasping sobs, "this is my fault, this is all my fault."

Dr. Parks was truly perplexed, "Miss Jung how could any of this be your fault? You have done nothing wrong."

"Because he was in love with me and I shot him down," Libbi said between sobs. "Maybe if I would have been nicer, or maybe if I would have just gone out with him a few more times, maybe then none of this would have happened."

"Miss Jung, may I call you Libbi?" Dr. Parks asked. He waited for her to nod before continuing, "Libbi none of this is your fault. I'm willing to bet that a woman as good looking as you must have turned down more than just this one guy." He waited for Libbi to nod again and then said, "Now I am willing to bet none of them besides Derrick has taken it so badly as to become a gun wielding megalomaniac with a genocidal game plan have they?"

"Well no," Libbi relented as she took another draw on her cigarette. As she blew out the smoke she said, "It's just he went off the deep end right after he saw me and Mel with Jake. He just went crazy and looked like he wanted to hurt us, but then Jake hit him and made him apologize for swearing at us. I guess that's why I feel guilty."

"Well then Libbi," Dr. Parks said as he took in a last breath of smoke, "it looks to me like Derrick was a little unstable before you got rid of him. To be honest it is probably best it happened that way, who knows what he would have done to you if you were with him alone during this episode. He is a violent man without remorse. If you ask me you are probably lucky to be alive after being with him for as long as you had been."

Libbi hadn't thought of it like that before. Dr. Parks was bound to be right. If she hadn't gotten away from Derrick when she did then she might be dead now. Derrick had used her just as he was using his vigilantes in an effort to make himself into a big shot. As long as he was in control it was all that mattered. She realized she had been chosen for her beauty not because of his personal feelings for her. It was because she was widely regarded as the prettiest girl on campus. It was all about him. The more Libbi thought of it, the angrier she became. How dare he use her like that? How dare he take advantage of her?

"Thank you Dr. Parks," Libbi said. "I hadn't ever thought of it like that."

"Feeling better then?" Dr. Parks asked.

"Well I'll tell ya I'm not sad now," she said, "but now I want to kick his scrawny ass!"

"That's more like it Miss Jung," Dr. Parks said with a smile. "Anger is much more useful than self pity. What do you say we get you a rifle?"

"Yeah, and if I see that cocksucker again I'm going to fucking kill him!" Libbi said with conviction.

XIII

Jake Church couldn't believe his eyes. A man was standing in the field holding a white flag of truce. Jake didn't think this guy was a deserter, nor did he think Derrick was sending a man forward to surrender. Seeing as Jake didn't want to see any more bloodshed, he figured it couldn't hurt to hear this guy out. If nothing else, it meant no one would be dying for the next half hour or so. The man had the sun at his back so from a distance it was completely impossible to make out who he was. As they left through the former main gate Jake passed the body of Jeremy Adkins who was slumped over a machine gun. Jake said a prayer quietly for the fallen hero and then he made the sign of the Orthodox cross.

Jake and Demetrius had left Damian in charge just in case this was a trick to get everyone in charge killed at once. Melani tried to insist that she go with them but was persuaded by Libbi to stay behind. Jake wasn't sure what had gotten into Libbi, but she was suddenly back to being a self-confidant in charge woman. She had a fire in her eye that said when shooting started again she would be adding to the lead in the air. Them staying behind turned out to be a good thing indeed because the man with the white flag of truce was none other than Derrick Warren himself.

"So it is true," Derrick said, "you are alive."

"Last I checked," Jake replied coldly.

"Well that is a shame now isn't it," Derrick retorted.

"Gentlemen," Demetrius interrupted before things blew up, "Let's get down to business. Mr. Warren what do you want?"

Without breaking his gaze into Jake's eyes Derrick said, "I desire your immediate surrender, this bastard's head on a plate, a public apology for your illegal actions against the people of the United States, and the swearing of your allegiance to me."

Jake and Demetrius shared a perplexed glance. Was this guy serious? Granted, the outpost had taken a beating and they had taken some appalling casualties, but he couldn't think that only after a day of fighting they would be willing to surrender to him.

Before Jake could jump on him, Demetrius said, "Mr. Warren we categorically reject this set of demands as an act of treason."

"And I categorically reject your loyalty to a corrupt government over loyalty to the American people as a higher degree of treason," Derrick responded.

Jake stewed in his boots. Who the fuck did this guy think he was? What did he know about serving the greater good? The only thing Derrick had ever done was swear to fight all of his enemies both foreign and domestic, not the defense of the constitution. Had he even the faintest clue of the degree of treason he had already perpetrated? Did he even understand the extent of his crimes against humanity, the country, and God?

"Jake you don't look too happy," Derrick said with a sideways smile. "Is it because you know that you cannot possibly make it through this alive and all you have ever fought for was a lie?"

Jake started to lunge for Derrick's throat, but Demetrius caught him in his bear like arms and pulled him back. Jake saw red and murder was in his heart.

"Derrick you had better pray you do not cross into my sights while we are still fighting," Jake said maliciously. "I swear by all that is good and holy that before I die I will stand over you as you die and the last thing you see on this earth will be my smiling face. I will stand over you and watch Satan's minions come up to collect you personally, this I swear."

"He's not worth it Jake," Demetrius said quietly.

"Why don't we settle this right now, just you and me?" Jake said panting as he struggled against his friend's arms.

"Because by this time tomorrow it won't be me who is dead," Derrick responded. "My men will roll over you tomorrow washing you away in a tide of blood and every one you harbor will die. I might have them save you for last though, so you can watch my victory be complete."

Before Jake could say anything further, Derrick spun around and walked off back to his lines. Demetrius held Jake who was shaking with rage. Demetrius only realized later that maybe it would have been for the best to just let Jake tear the fiend apart right then and there.

"Let it go Jake," Demetrius said quietly. "Tonight we get some rest and then tomorrow we beat them back again, it is as simple as that."

"No D-Train, he's coming tonight," Jake said with conviction. "We need to get all of the innocents inside and try to keep them as safe as possible."

"Do you really think he was serious when he said he would kill everyone?" Demetrius asked with a tint of horror in his voice.

Jake looked at him with a sideways glance to give him his answer and then said, "Let's see who we have that's still able to fight."

Derrick knew those cowards would have never accepted the terms of surrender he had so generously offered. However, had they accepted then he knew he would probably have to kill everyone inside anyway to make a point. What he didn't know and had to confirm was whether or not his beloved was still alive. If Jake came out, then logically in turn Libbi must be alive as well. His heart was a mixture of fire and ice which raced in his chest. Even if Jake had in fact been dead and in turn so was his beloved, then the meeting would still have had a purpose. In the time they had stood out in the open talking every eye was focused on them. With the cover of darkness and the distraction of the meeting he would be able to move up his men while the defenders were distracted. No one would think a bunch of rag tag vigilantes would attempt a midnight attack on a group of soldiers and police officers. His men would be able to move undetected and by the time the defenders knew what was happening, it would all be over and his beloved would be returned to him.

"This is Warren. Leave every blonde haired woman alive until the place is secured. Am I understood?" Derrick said into his radio.

"Got it chief," replied the voice on the other end.

Tonight Derrick would end this and finally be elevated to the position he so desperately desired and in his mind so splendidly deserved.

Luca Verona had dodged a few bullets today, both metaphorically and literally. His squad had been chewed up in the opening volleys of the conflict when they were ambushed on patrol. Luca thanked the heavens he had enough nerve to not stand up when his squad leader instructed him to do so. One of the improvised mortar rounds landed in his fox hole, but failed to detonate. His body armor had stopped shrapnel from when a Hummvee being used to store extra forty millimeter grenades got hit with an improvised mortar round and did explode. His only regret there was that he was unable to retrieve the ammunition the other guy in the turret needed. Luca hoped it wasn't because of his failing the man had been killed. He died protecting the innocent and his comrades. He was a hero and when this was all over Luca hoped the man would be recognized as such. Without that guy's bold decision to go into a burning Hummvee and engage the enemy with accurate machine gun fire, they would all be dead by now. Luca knew this deep down in his heart of hearts and so he said a prayer for the fallen hero.

The compound was on fifty percent security for the evening. What this meant was one out of every two men would be awake and alert on the line at any given point in time. Luca had worked out a four hours on and four hours off rotation with his other half. Luca had just come off of his four hour watch. Most guys would have tried to grab as much sleep as possible or get something to eat. Luca, however, was a firm believer that if you didn't take care of your equipment before yourself then you wouldn't be an effective or responsible soldier. Luca was vigilant and meticulous when it came to maintaining his M-4 rifle. To him, the M-16 series rifle was like dating a high maintenance woman. You had to keep it very clean, well lubricated, and pay lots and lots of attention to it. If you did then she would work for you and put out, even if the bullet wasn't all that powerful. If you didn't take care of her as she felt she should be taken care of though, she would jam up, seize up, and in general, act like a total bitch. Seeing as this was to be a no quarter given type of situation, he wanted his weapon as happy with him as possible.

Cleaning his rifle was therapeutic to Luca as well. Even if the rest of the world was falling apart and you were filthy and grimy, you could make something clean and right. In the dark soldiers are taught not to break down their weapons, but let's face it, if you don't then you won't clean it. His hands knew every crevice of his weapon and worked independently of any actual thought. Luca paid special attention to the infamous "star chamber" which collected carbon like it was going out of style. He lightly oiled his bolt and ran an oiled rag down the barrel of the rifle. Was there anything a little gun oil couldn't fix?

Luca breathed in the nighttime air and savored it as he had grown accustomed to every night since getting away from the city. He didn't dare smoke right now for fear of snipers, but he desperately wanted one. The smell of death had crept into the fresh pine smell and the smell of green grass and left a taste of corruption with it. One delicious cigarette would cover the horrible odor now taunting his nostrils. The wind picked up a little bit, yet the clouds covering the moon did not want to yield. There would be no moonlight tonight, but the breeze was welcomed. Fog began to form on the low lying areas once more which only further added to the pea soup darkness surrounding him like a damp shroud. He made a mental note to put a light coat of oil on the outside of his weapon to keep it from rusting. The wind changed direction just then and blew straight into Luca's face. His nose twitched and his hearing quickly became more acute. He threw his weapon back together quick enough to make any drill sergeant proud and then crawled back up to the line.

"Verona, what are you doin back up here man, I just relieved you?" the other soldier asked in a hushed whisper.

"You don't smell that?" Luca asked urgently.

The other soldier stopped and sniffed a big whiff of air before saying, "Smell what?"

"There are people out there," Luca said with conviction, "Get whoever is in charge and let them know we are going to have company, pass the word."

"How can you tell there are people out there?" the soldier asked again.

"I can smell them," Luca responded, "and one of them has what smells like a chaw of Red Man in."

The other soldier's eyes went wide as he smelled it too and then he made the fatal mistake of standing up as he said, "Jesus, you're right! Hold on and I'll..."

Before the other soldier could finish his sentence, a bullet smashed through his skull splitting it open like a watermelon dropped off of a kitchen counter. Luca put a flare into his grenade launcher and shot it almost straight up and out. The flare made a little popping noise as the parachute deployed and the flare began to burn with a bright white light. No more than ten feet in front of him was a man carrying a captured M-4 much like his own. He had on a pair of jeans and an oversized captured set of body armor he was clearly uncomfortable wearing. Luca raised his weapon at the man's head and pulled the trigger only to hear a disheartening click. He had forgotten to chamber the first round. All hell was breaking loose along this part of the line. Machineguns were barking to life, grenades were going off, and men were yelling, but for Luca this battle had become a one on one battle for survival. When the other man tried to shoot Luca nothing happened. Apparently his high maintenance woman hadn't gotten enough attention in the past twenty four hours so it decided to jam up with a double feed. Luca let out a savage cry and lunged for the man tackling him to the ground.

The other man was not expecting such a brazen assault and dropped his rifle as he fell backward. They rolled around on the ground punching, twisting, and grabbing at each other. For a time it looked as though the Watchman guy had the upper hand when he got on top of Luca and began to rain down punches onto his face. Luca managed to turn his head just so and the man punched Luca's helmet. The man stopped to scream and grab his wounded hand allowing Luca the opportunity to grab one of the man's arms and he pulled the man down. Instinctively from doing army combatives training Luca put the man's arm into an uncomfortable arm bar hold to make him submit. While he was up there waiting for the man to tap out Luca suddenly realized this wasn't practice anymore this was life and death, so he took the knife off of his belt and stabbed the man in the neck.

When Luca recovered he realized only a small group of about twenty Watchmen were attacking in this area and it probably wasn't part of a larger offensive, but they were awfully concentrated. He looked back to his own lines and saw that maybe the enemy didn't need to send many more men to achieve a break through. The machineguns had largely stopped firing and all shooting was sporadic and disorganized. Sounds of shotgun blasts punctuated the night air as well as pistol fire. This was no longer an organized fight, but a melee of men for their very lives. Luca picked his rifle back up and chambered the round he had forgotten earlier and was about to run down to the fighting positions to try and help any of his comrades that might need it, but he froze. Other soldiers on the distant side of the battle field were firing flares from grenade launchers with enough of a frequency to keep the battle field brightly lit. Shadows were dancing this way and that as the flares descended which momentarily froze him in place. If he could have glanced into hell, Luca imagined this would be what it looked like. It was a sea of constant motion, a shiftless vision of leaping shadows, death, blood, and cruelty. The only positive side was it looked like his side might be winning, but then again who could really tell. That was when he felt a sudden searing pain in his left leg and he screamed.

Luca collapsed to the ground and looked down at his leg which had a knife sticking out of it. The hand holding the blade, which he only later recognized as his very own knife, was the hand of the man he thought he had killed a few moments ago. Now it looked like the clearly dying man was going to try and take Luca with him. Luca prepared himself for death by saying a few internal "Hail Mary's" but then he heard yelling and felt running footsteps on the ground behind him. A blonde haired girl leaped over him and stabbed a bayoneted rifle into the dying Watchman quickening his end and saving Luca. Two older men were with her as well. One man was a short dark man, Luca realized had to be either Greek or Italian, and the other was an older fat man who was balding. The two men carried older combat rifles with bayonets mounted on them as well.

"Thank you," Luca said wincing in pain.

"Don't worry about it," the pretty blonde said. "Ok guys pull him back in, me and Mel will help out the guys down there."

"Libbi, I don't know if that's such a wise idea," the balding man said clearly out of breath.

"Don't worry Dr. Parks I'll take care of her," a red headed bombshell of a girl whom Luca hadn't seen said.

Libbi and Melani went running off down the line. The girls stopped and then kneeled down a couple of times on their way down the line to shoot their rifles at enemies who were far enough away from their own downed soldiers to pose little risk of friendly fire. Was there anything sexier than a beautiful woman who could handle a gun? Well, in all fairness, they could handle the bayonet just as well and seemed to be in the midst of a bloodlust. Such fury and passion they had, it let Luca's mind wander away from the battlefield. Luca momentarily forgot about the pain and blood flowing from his leg as he longed to see the two girls again.

"They are something aren't they," the Mediterranean looking man said.

"I think I'm in love," Luca said detached from the pain throbbing in his leg. Only part of him even registered the bald man working on him to stop the bleeding. "Could he have been in the army once upon a time?" Luca thought to himself. The guy obviously knew what to do with battlefield wounds.

"Who isn't in love with those two," the bald man said, "but you should know both of them are hopelessly in love with Jake Church."

"Well it never hurt anyone to dream, eh?" Luca said with a half smile.

"We'll see buddy," the bald man said. "You should be ok with the pressure bandage I put on you, I don't think he hit the femoral artery and you don't need a turnicate I don't think."

"Well that's good news," Luca said. "Now can you get me back into a place where I can shoot some more of these assholes?"

"Nothing would please us more, eh Niko?" Dr. Parks said.

Luca looked to Niko who's only expression was a half smile that would leave the enemy feeling uncomfortable, but gave Luca a sense of well being.

"Let's get him back to the gun," Niko said and then they pulled Luca back to friendly lines.

Libbi was running down the line which was rapidly deteriorating in the face of this surprise midnight commando style raid. Seeing two beautiful women rushing into battle while many soldiers were losing hope caused those soldiers to find a renewed sense of courage. With every step Libbi felt as though she was reclaiming part of her self-confidence and personal identity she had lost earlier this week. She had never killed a man before today, heck she had never even been in a fight. Somehow though, she flowed through the battle as if channeling the spirits of the Amazons, Boudicca, and Joan of Arc all at once. Her conscious mind seemed to take a back seat to the adrenaline fueled blood lusting warrior woman she had morphed into. She moved down the line plunging her bayonet into enemies and shooting them when she could.

"Slow down girlie, you're losing me," Melani shouted over the din of battle to Libbi.

Of the two, Melani had proven herself to be the more at home fighting than Libbi had, until today. Now the two of them descended on fighting men with the beauty and allure of two sirens, but with the ferocity and prejudice of two harpies. Melani relished the fact that Libbi was back to being herself. She had been afraid the jackass Derrick Warren had ruined her friend and part time lover forever after her melt down two days ago. Something had snapped Libbi out of it though and for that Melani was eternally grateful. They fought side by side most of the time taking Watchmen by total surprise with their beauty and lethality. When the fight was over, all either side would be able to talk about was the two Amazons who fought to protect the police and National Guard outpost.

By the time the fight was over dawn was breaking over the land, a blood red sky this morning to reflect the bloodshed of the previous night. Libbi and Melani were streaked with blood, dirt, and filth. Neither one of them remembered when exactly they had run out of ammunition, nor did they recall exactly how many men they had killed. They didn't know how much of the blood was theirs, if any, so they decided to go get checked out by the medic and to try and get clean.

"You did good girlie," Melani said panting as she put an arm around her friend's waist, "I'm glad to have you back."

"It's good to be back," Libbi responded.

"How are you feeling after all of this?" Melani asked.

"I don't really know to tell you the truth," Libbi responded, "I guess I'll figure that out as we go."

"Holy shit, are you two ok?" the medic said at the sight of the two women.

"We think so Spitz, thanks for asking," Melani said, "but could you check us out anyway to make sure we didn't get hit and haven't registered it yet?"

"Yeah, sure," Spitz answered, "strip down so I can check you out, also so you can get as much of the blood cleaned off of you as possible."

Libbi and Melani gave him a look saying something along the lines of "we aren't that dumb."

"Ok, ok, just get to your bras and panties," Spitz said again in a defeated tone. "Honest, it is the only way to see if you are hurt under there."

Libbi and Melani complied. Down the hall men, women, and children who had been injured in the fighting were being taken care of by medics and off duty doctors. They were fixing up both friendly and enemy alike. The scene would have been at home during the Revolution or the Civil War, but seemed a little out of place in this day and age. At least these poor souls had the benefit of modern medicine and doctors who knew about germs. Spitz handed the girls some wash cloths and a bucket of warm soapy water. As they washed the blood off the medic began inspecting their bodies for injury. Neither one of the girls remembered getting any of the scrapes and bruises which were revealed.

"I'm gunna have to clean these cuts out pretty aggressively," Spitz said. "We have no idea whose blood might have got mixed in with your cuts and we do not want to take any chances on cross contamination."

Melani groaned at the memory of the burning the antiseptic which had been used on her last time. Libbi was blissfully unaware of the cursed solution, but soon found out why Melani dreaded Spitz's prescribed course of treatment.

"Holy Christ!" Libbi exclaimed, "What in the name of heaven is that stuff?"

Melani laughed and then said, "If it's burning it means it is working."

"Don't laugh too hard there Melani," the medic said, "You're next."

Melani stopped laughing after that and realized she was in fact going to have the same painful treatment shortly. After their wounds were dressed and cleaned the girls went to go get something to eat. They were very aware now of how many little scrapes and cuts they had received in the battle, but were even more aware they hadn't eaten anything since breakfast the day before.

"We need ammo Jake," Demetrius said ruefully.

"I know Demetrius, I know," Jake responded.

When the National Guard deployed to Southwestern Pennsylvania no one could have imagined the amount of ordinance that would be expended in such a short time. Who would have thought they would have been fighting any pitched battles? Additionally, no one had anticipated the nationwide collapse of the government and its systems of resupply. Most bridges, highways, and railroads had been blocked or destroyed in the past week, strangling the troops from receiving any relief, reinforcements, or resupply. So few were the rounds remaining for the machineguns, they would probably only be effective for a short time of maybe a few minutes when the next attack came. If they lost their massive advantage in automatic weapons then the vigilantes would probably make short work of the few remaining healthy defenders.

"Hey, do you think you could get that guy I rode in with up here?" Jake asked.

"You mean the Parks guy?" Demetrius answered.

"No, the other one, Niko something," Jake responded.

"If he's still alive, yeah," Demetrius answered, "but why?"

"Well, when we were in his van coming here I think I remember seeing some linked ammunition," Jake said.

"Why the hell would he have something like that in the back of his van?" Demetrius asked astonished.

"I guess he saw this kind of thing coming long before we did," Jake answered. "I just don't know if the linked ammo is the type we can actually use."

"Alright I'll bring him up," Demetrius said and he dispatched a police officer to go retrieve Mr. Sarandos.

The two men in the mean time tried to figure out how many men they had left who would actually be able to fight. Unfortunately, it looked grim. With an entire MP company wiped out at the very beginning of hostilities and an entire patrol wiped out in the ambush, they were not in a good position before the day and night of fighting, let alone after it was all over. While they had killed and captured almost twice their number of the vigilantes, what was also frighteningly true was they had a lot more men where they came from. Without machine guns and fire support things would get dicey.

"Mr. Church this is Niko Sarandos," the young police officer said announcing the man in tow.

"Mr. Sarandos it's good to see you again and in good health," Jake said shaking his hand.

"It is good to see you again too Mr. Church," Niko said shaking his hand, "and you as well Mr. Raines. How can I help you gentlemen today?"

"Well Mr. Sarandos, I first wanted to say thank you for your help yesterday and last night," Jake said. "The other thing is I think remember seeing some linked ammunition in your van the other day. I was wondering what type it was and how much of it you had?"

Niko thought a moment and then said, "It's all 5.56mm and I think I have around two thousand rounds, give or take."

Demetrius and Jake looked at each other before Jake said, "Mr. Sarandos, would we be able to get that ammunition from you? We are running short and those two thousand rounds would help out a lot in our defense if we could feed it to our squad automatic weapons. Also, if you have any loose 5.56 for our rifles, those would be greatly appreciated as well."

Niko nodded before saying, "Of course Mr. Church. Anything I can do to defend my country I will do gladly."

With another handshake the young police officer who had brought Mr. Sarandos in, escorted him back out again and went to go and secure the ammunition. When all of the ammo was passed out Jake realized this was going to be the end unless either the hand of God or US government decided to intervene. Given the US government by and large didn't exist anymore, Jake realized he would have to hope in the former rather than the latter.

"All right D-Train," Jake said, "If this is it then I just want to say I'm glad to have had the opportunity to fight beside you."

"Same here brother," Demetrius said shaking Jake's hand, "This we'll defend."

The Angel of Death was becoming annoyed with his new companion and his bumbling motley crew of vigilantes. How was he supposed to show the depravity of man if there was still a few idiots who would try and disprove the truth? His car bomb should have either gone in before any engagement occurred or not until the defenders were lulled into a false sense of security. If you were going for a night time attack when the enemy didn't have night vision, then you should go all in. Commando raids are fine and dandy in a real war, but when you are the guerilla and you have the big guy knocked on the ground, you need to kick in his neck until he stops thrashing. This half-assed shit had to stop. This Derrick Warren had no sense of tactical patience or strategic thinking. He did have fine taste in women though. If Derrick were to fall in the next day's assault he would take the blonde haired vixen, Libbi Jung, for his own. He would show her how a good woman should act though. He would make her realize how men were superior and how God had created women to serve and obey. Yes, he relished the thought of teaching her particularly.

"Derrick," the Angel of Death said from the shadows.

"Holy shit," Derrick said startled, "don't you know how to knock like a normal person and make yourself known. You scared me half to death."

"A pity," the Angel of Death said.

Derrick wondered what exactly his dark benefactor meant by that, but decided it would be imprudent to ask. With the havoc this man had caused there was no telling what he would do if he decided Derrick was no longer an asset. He was suddenly very aware of how vulnerable he was and how this man really dictated his works and his life more than he actually co-ruled with him. He decided to think about something else.

"Do you have any ideas for our attack tomorrow, seeing as tonight was a bust?" Derrick asked.

"As a matter of fact, I do," the Angel of Death answered. "We still have two car bombs left correct?"

"I believe we do," Derrick answered.

"Ok, this is how we will do it," the Angel of Death began. "We will start with an attack right where we attacked tonight. This way we can use the corpses of our fallen men as cover while we advance. Whatever teargas we have left we will launch behind their lines so their reinforcements will have a hard time getting into position. However, this location will not be where the main blow really falls."

"Where will it fall then?" Derrick asked eagerly in awe the dark man's know how.

"After the attack has been under way for a little while I think most of their machinegun ammo should be expended. Without men to plug a breach in their lines they will have to fill it with lead, which will be costly," the Angel of Death said with a cold and indifferent calculation disregarding human life. "Then we will send in the last two car bombs we have just to the right of the main gate. When we blow them we will create a hole in their lines and we can send every last man we have through the hole."

"That sounds a bit risky my friend," Derrick said lighting a cigarette nervously. "How am I supposed to convince every last man to go through the hole?"

"That's simple Derrick," the Angel of Death said as he smoked his own cigarette, "they will follow your lead."

Derrick choked on the smoke and was sent into a coughing fit before saying, "Me? You want me to lead the charge into that place?"

Derrick regarded himself as being as brave and courageous as any other man, but this seemed a little too suicidal. If he led the charge into a fortified compound, he got the feeling he wouldn't get through this alive. Had the dark man found no use for him anymore? Was he trying to be rid of him cleanly and without blame?

"Don't worry Derrick," the Angel of Death said with a smile seeming to read his thoughts, "without machine guns they won't be able to stop you. Granted there will still be men with rifles, but even those should be pretty sparse by then. The police only have a few rifles and most only have pistols or shotguns. By the time those firearms are in effective range you will be inside the wire. Not to mention most of the actual soldiers will be tied down with the diversionary attack as well as many should be killed by the car bombs or incapacitated by the remnants of the gas. Police are good for police work and soldiers are good for soldiering. That was the lesson this idiotic government never figured out when they invaded the Middle East. This will work, trust me."

Derrick looked at the sketch of the battle field and found his dark benefactor to be right. The defenders would have to shift as many soldiers to the flank as possible to prevent being overrun on that side and even then they would probably still arrive too late. The gas would cause panic and confusion and there would be a pretty good cross fire going on. Derrick made a mental note to have two or more signals for the diversionary force to stop shooting so they wouldn't accidentally shoot the assault force. The defenders couldn't have much more than thirty or forty men still willing and able to fight while he had almost triple that number.

"Ok," Derrick said, "I'll lead the final charge to our ultimate victory."

The Angel of Death was elated by Derrick Warren having seen it his way. The Dark Angel would float into the midst of the chaos and reap any life which had been looked over during the initial surge. Whether or not this feeble, weak, fallible Derrick Warren made it through this attack was inconsequential, just as long as the attack succeeded. Then he would take the head of the false Church and place it on the roof of the building he now used for a refuge. The Angel of Death savored one last drag on his cigarette and then closed his dead eyes savoring the image of the slaughter to come.

XIV

Jake no longer sat in the command center of the make shift headquarters. He was a soldier and soldiers needed to be where the metal meets the meat. He had as many men as he could spare with him to be used as a reserve when the final attack came. If a breach opened in the line his paltry force would have to plug it or everything he had fought for in his entire life would be forfeit. Jake had bled on foreign lands. He had lost friends in so many horrible ways they still haunted his dreams. He had forsaken his friends and family back home for so long that when he got back to Pittsburgh it was months before he ran into the only friend he still had left. His parents lived in Florida and hadn't even taken the time to come back and see him be proclaimed a hero as a result. This country was not perfect and it never would be. No perfect idea ever remains that way once human fallibility touches it. Regardless, this was his country. This was a place where, by and large, gangs of people didn't just kill you for being a different religion. This was the place which had originated the idea about people having inalienable rights. This country had even sacrificed thousands of men, gallons of blood, and hordes of treasure to defend these ideals at home and abroad. He would endure any hardship and pay any price God would demand of him in its defense.

Libbi had listened to reason and stayed with Mr. Sarandos and Dr. Parks in the relative safety of a fighting position. Melani, God love her, still refused to leave Jake's side. With her he had ten other people, mostly police with pistols and shotguns. A few had acquired rifles from the dead and severely wounded soldiers, but Jake had serious doubts any of them knew how to effectively use them. Jake said a few prayers to steel himself for the coming battle.

"Alright fellas no matter what happens out there you listen to my command," Jake said. "If I tell you to wait then you must wait, if I tell you to go forward you must go forward, and if I tell you to pull back then you pull back, got it?"

Jake had taken an ammunition inventory and wasn't happy with what he had found. Most soldiers were sitting at four full magazines a man and the machine gunners just looked at him and shook their heads when he asked them about how much ammo they had. The one major weapon they had would soon be nothing more than a twenty to thirty pound club. He instructed the machine gunners to carefully choose their targets and keep bursts as short as possible. Whether or not they would listen was another story. That was when it happened.

Rifle and machine gun fire started barking and braying in the same area the Watchmen had attacked from last night. Maybe they thought this section of the line would be demoralized or weaker? Sniper fire from the roof of the country club was helpful, but it looked like this attack was going to be more concentrated effort to actually overrun the defenders. Jake's men looked to him eagerly.

"Not yet," Jake said.

Just then one of the police snipers who had been positioned on the roof was struck by a bullet from one of the Watchmen's weapons. His body fell off of the roof and thudded against the patio with a sickening crunching splat which, unfortunately, Jake had heard before. The vigilantes looked to have learned a few lessons from earlier battles because they were moving up in short rushes and taking cover rather than just sprinting blindly to their deaths. Some took cover behind bodies of those who had been killed in the fighting the night before. They were now within thirty meters of the line and the vigilantes began throwing their improvised grenades. A small hole began to open as they exploded.

"Alright guys we move forward to the hole in the line," Jake said pointing, "We can't let them get in here or we are done for."

The group did a crouching run for the section of line under assault. That was when Jake noticed something arcing through the air.

"Incoming!" Jake shouted as he threw himself flat, but the explosions never came.

"Gas! Gas! Gas!" soldiers started yelling down the line.

Jake had hoped the Watchmen didn't have any more teargas, but it looked as though he was painfully mistaken. The gas canisters landed between the line and the reinforcements Jake led. If he crossed through the gas to try and rescue the men in trouble, he risked coming through the gas not being able to have his men shoot accurately. If he stayed on this side of the gas he risked the breach getting bigger and this getting out of control.

"What do we do?" asked a panic stricken officer who was beginning to cough and gag.

"Pull back, if we have to we will fight from the building," Jake said much to his dismay. "Try and get into a good firing position and choose your targets carefully."

The fight was getting pretty intense at this point and since he couldn't use men to fill the hole in the line, machine guns filled the hole with bullets. Watchmen fell before them in swaths until the guns abruptly stopped. A chill went up Jake's spine. The guns were already out of ammunition. How could he make up for this? Before he could think any further two cars came racing through the field toward the other flank from the front. With no machine guns, they wouldn't have any effective means of stopping these remote car bombs.

"Get down!" Jake yelled to that side of the line, but too late.

The two cars exploded sending shrapnel in all directions. Even worse, as the dust settled Jake saw there was a giant hole in the barbed wire leading straight into the heart of the defense. When Jake thought things couldn't get any worse he was proven wrong. What he saw was a flood of Watchmen rushing toward the newly created hole. Jake realized in growing horror the first attack was only a diversion. Scores more Watchmen were rushing in a growing tide to the hole. The snipers shifted their attention to this new threat and began firing as quickly as possible. What could they do now?

Dr. Ned Parks, Libbi Jung, and Niko Sarandos heard the warning to get down just in time for the explosion. Even though they were a few yards back from the front line, they were dazed and momentarily disoriented. Suddenly, the three of them were the only thing standing in the way of scores of vigilantes flooding toward them knowing they would give no quarter, and the women, children, and wounded who lay inside of the building.

Ned quickly emptied his magazine into the mob and then put in another, and then another. Libbi was following suit, but they didn't seem to be having too great of an impact. There were just too many people and not enough guns pointed in their direction. Niko's much needed rifle fire was strangely missing. Ned turned his head to see what Niko was up to.

"Don't just sit there, help me!" Niko screamed at Ned as he was pulling the homemade cannon into position.

"That's brilliant," Ned said.

"Blah, blah, blah just load the damn thing with a double load of canister," Niko responded frantically.

Suddenly, the three of them went from improvised infantrymen to improvised artillerymen. Ned rammed home the charge and the two brown paper bags full of projectiles and then shouted, "Loaded!"

Niko spiked the flash hole with a nail. He then primed the flash hole and aimed the gun in the general direction of the onslaught which was getting ever closer to the hole in the line and then yelled, "Firing!"

Ned and Libbi covered their ears with their hands and ducked away from the mighty gun. The cannon belched and roared spitting flame and metal from its mouth. A plume of smoke appeared on the battlefield sweeping over the mass of humanity headed their way bent on murder and destruction. Neither Niko nor Ned could see what effect, if any, their gun had made on the battle.

"One more time!" Niko shouted.

Ned picked the ram rod back up and swabbed the barrel. Libbi placed another charge in the opening of the gun and Ned rammed it home.

"Come on, come on hurry up!" Niko shouted.

Libbi placed the first canister round into the mouth of the gun and Ned rammed it home. She placed the other round in, and again Ned rammed it home yelling, "Loaded!"

Niko spiked the hole again and primed it. He carefully aimed the gun down a little more in case he had fired over the heads of the mass of humanity last time and then he yelled, "Firing!"

Again, Ned and Libbi covered their still throbbing ears in a feeble attempt to make the roar a little less painful. For the second and final time the gun spat flame, metal, and smoke like some kind of terrible reincarnated metallic dragon. Ned hoped against hope what they had done here would be enough to ensure their survival and the survival of everything he had fought so hard for the last few days and a lifetime before hand on a distant continent.

Derrick couldn't believe how well the plan of his dark benefactor was working. The diversionary attack drew a good bit of the defenders away from where the main thrust was going to take place. The gas almost entirely stopped any more reinforcements from arriving on the spot and had forced the machine gunners to expend the remainder of their rounds. What was even more impressive was the diversion looked like it would actually turn out to be a successful attack in its own right. What was about to happen would be the icing on the cake so to speak and would ensure the massacre Derrick so desperately desired would occur.

"Do you have the car bombs ready?" Derrick asked into the radio.

"We got'em started and pointed in the right direction," the man on the other end of the radio said, "Just give us the word and we'll send'em in."

Derrick's smile was ravenous. He would strike the death blow today and be proclaimed the rightful ruler of all he set eyes on. He took great pleasure in the order he was about to give and then he said, "Send'em in and be ready for the attack."

At that order, the two cars were released. The steering wheels had been tied in place and the accelerators wedged down. Derrick held the cell phone which would be used to detonate the explosives just as his dark benefactor had instructed him. The two cars bounced across the uneven terrain before doing a jump on the curb. As the cars were about to land Derrick hit the send button on the detonator phone which sent a text message to the two phones wired to the explosives in the trunks of the car bombs.

The two vehicles sang in unison. The two fire balls produced by the detonation of the propane tanks and HME melded together into one larger cataclysmic fire ball. Given how close Derrick's Watchmen would be to the explosions, he had decided not to pack extra shrapnel into the vehicle for fear it would hit his men too. His ears rang and the overpressure from the explosion slammed him in the chest. Even with all of that, he kept his eyes on the settling dust to see if a hole had opened in the lines. With the attack on the other side of the compound, the part of the line he had targeted with the car bombs was lightly defended. Smears of blood on the manicured grass said there had been at least a couple of men who stood their ground.

Derrick smiled a dark smile and then yelled, "Charge!"

The other two thirds of the force he kept back for the charge let out a yell which shook the air and the ground almost as much as the explosion had. His Watchmen flooded forward in an untamable tsunami of destruction. No machineguns were waiting to cut them down. Only a few rifles were aimed his way and most shots were not hitting many men. Most shots were either going wild or hitting the same person numerous times. A few Watchmen stepped to the side to put down suppressing fire on the roof of the country club where most of the effective fire was coming from. Suddenly it was the only place any rifle fire was originating from at all. He had his victory in hand. His name would live through the ages as a great invincible conquering hero. People would speak his name throughout history and would add The Great. That was when he saw the tongue of flame lick out from what looked like a civil war cannon.

Abruptly, his untamable flood of destruction turned into Picket's Charge. It was as if the hand of God himself reached out to smite his mighty army. A thick blanket of smoke enveloped his men. His ears rang and bled and he became disoriented. He tried to urge his men forward again, but they were in a shambles. The mighty gun sang once more and Derrick Warren, along with the majority of his men, ceased to exist on this earth.

"What in the name of God was that?" Melani shouted to Jake to be heard above the ringing that was in everyone's ears.

"I think it was the cannon Niko had in his car," Jake answered.

"You mean to tell me that thing actually works?" Melani asked. The second thunderclap originating from the cannon answered the question for her.

"Come on," Jake said motioning his hands, "I have an idea, but we need to get to the gun!"

The small group of reinforcements went running to the fighting position where Niko, Libbi, and Dr. Parks were located. A few police officers stopped to take pot shots at the Watchmen who were floating through the cloud of smoke. Jake took a few as well to ensure they would get the picture, coming through this hole was certain death. As Jake peered through his sights into the cloud, he saw men staggering about. Their forms were foggy and unclear, as though they were already more dead spirits than living men. Jake took mercy on a few men who were wounded so badly he didn't know how they were still alive. Jake felt detached and surreal as he only half felt the bucking recoil of his rifle against his shoulder. How could this be? How did we come to this? He pulled the trigger a final time before getting to the fighting position.

"Great thinking there guys," Jake said praising the crew.

"Did it actually work? Did we actually hit anything?" Niko said half perplexed and half elated.

"Yeah, you stopped them dead in their tracks...no pun intended," Jake said with a smile.

"That's great!" Dr. Parks yelled happily.

"Libbi are you ok?" Melani asked of her friend.

"Yeah I'm good," Libbi answered with a sparkle in her eye.

"Niko, do you have any more powder and rounds for that thing," Jake said pointing to the homemade cannon.

"Yeah, we have one more canister and a couple of rounds of solid shot," Niko answered.

"Alright guys let's get the cannon over to the other hole in the line and plug it like they plugged this one," Jake shouted.

Three of the men held in reserve got on the gun and began to push the carriage as quickly as humanely possible to the other end of the battlefield. The rest grabbed the ramrod and some shot and headed off to the line. On the other end of the field, it looked as if the Watchmen had not yet been clued in their main attack had just ceased to exist. The team loaded the cannon and Niko aimed it. The gun roared and shredded most of the back ranks of the vigilantes who had been supporting the forward most portion of the diversionary attack.

"Reload with solid shot," Jake yelled to the crew.

If the attackers were not going to surrender, Jake intended on causing them more pain until they finally either broke and ran or got the picture and capitulated. The men were frantically looking around the gun.

"What is it?" Jake asked annoyed.

"We forgot to bring extra powder," they responded dejectedly.

Libbi and Melani spoke up then in unison saying, "We'll get it."

The girls went running back to the old firing position to retrieve a fresh charge of powder. The new gun crew gave them covering fire with whatever weapon they happened to carry. Jake was proud of the girls and found his mind wandering from the battle which was winding down. Shooting by and large had already stopped except for the occasional pop here and there. Jake decided to go back and tell the girls they didn't need the fresh charge of gun powder anymore. Now that this was all over, he would pick them up and kiss them and tell them how he was proud of them and how he loved them.

As Jake started jogging back to the fighting position a new hope flooded over him. Then a dark terror gripped him for reasons he didn't know. His smile faded and his jog became a dead sprint to the fighting position. Something terrible was about to happen and he didn't know what. When he got there he saw Melani lying on the ground bleeding from a gunshot wound in her abdomen.

"Melani!" Jake shouted panic stricken as he cradled her in his arms, "Melani speak to me!"

Melani's eyes were already growing more distant and had been clouded by pain. A thin line of blood trickled from her mouth and down her cheek before she said, "S...save...save Libbi. He has her. The dark man with the hood and cargo pants has her. You have to, you have to save her. I lo...I...love y..."

Melani never finished her last sentence as she went limp. Jake felt the overwhelming feeling of loss well up from deep inside of him. He had lost friends in combat before, the close type of friends who feel more like family than anything else, but never had he lost a love. Jake let out a loud and terrible scream and he began to bawl. Seconds later Ned, Niko, and Demetrius were beside him.

"Oh my God," Demetrius said, "I'm sorry Jake."

The three placed their hands on his trembling body as he continued to cry. Then something deep within him turned the feeling of terrible loss into a terrible rage. That terrorist bastard from the beginning had taken both of his loves away from him. He knew he couldn't get one back, but he knew he would have to at least try to get back the other.

"Take," Jake started to say but was cut short by his own emotion, "take Mel and take care of her. I need to go after the bastard who took Libbi and I will bring her back. I will also bring back that fucker's head on a mother fuckin plate so help me God!"

XV

Libbi's head was throbbing. She didn't know where she was. The bouncing and darkness clued her in that she was probably in the trunk of a car. The last thing she remembered was running back to get a fresh charge of powder for the cannon, or was it? Something had happened, something bad. What was it? She tried to remember, but for the life of her she couldn't bring it into focus. She reached her hand back to where her head was throbbing and felt a warm, moist, sticky substance. Against her better judgment she decided to taste it because she couldn't see it. She tasted warm iron and realized it had to be blood, her blood. That was when the memory came flooding back in, snapping into focus.

"Oh my God," Libbi said trembling.

She remembered everything now. Mel had been running with her to go get the gun powder when a man with cargo pants and a hood stepped out from the ditch. He raised a pistol and shot three times and she remembered hearing Mel scream and crumple to the ground. After that she remembered a searing pain in her head and then she passed out. Whoever had shot Mel, must have decided to kidnap her. Why would the person kill her friend and then just kidnap her? Libbi started to cry at the thought of her friend being killed in front of her.

"Pull it together girlie," Melani's detached voice said from deep within Libbi's head.

"I just don't know what to do Mel. I'm so sorry I couldn't help you," Libbi cried woefully.

"Lib, listen to me girlie," Melani's voice said to Libbi, "You have to pull it together and find a way out of this. If you don't then he will win. You can't let the dark man win."

"I can't Mel," Libbi sobbed, "I just can't. Not without you. I don't know what to do."

"Lib, you need to look around and find something you can use to defend yourself," Melani's voice said, "You have to live for the both of us now. You have to love Jake for the both of us now. Make it out of here Lib, you have to."

"Ok Mel," Libbi said abetting her sobs and wiping her nose, "I'll do it for you."

The voice of Melani stopped speaking to her for a little while as Libbi strained to see what could be of use to her inside the trunk. She felt around for a trunk release and found it had been cut. She strained to grasp the remaining piece of pull cord still exposed, but to no avail. She started to despair, but then remembered she had to get through this for Melani. She felt a cloth covered panel with her right hand and ripped it off. Inside she felt wires.

"God, I hope this works and doesn't get me electrocuted," Libbi said quietly.

Libbi pulled furiously at the wires until a few came free. She put a handful in her pocket for reasons unbeknownst to her. She continued her mad blind search of the trunk and found nothing else of real value, much to her dismay. She then felt her other pockets to see if she had anything on her she could use to defend herself. She still had her wallet, a pen, a lighter, a pack of cigarettes which were surprisingly not crushed, and a small pack of tissues.

"What, the fuck, am I supposed to do with this crap?" Libbi said in disgust.

"Girlie, you'll know what to do and what to use when the time comes," Melani's voice said again to Libbi.

"But how will I know?" Libbi asked.

"Trust your instincts Lib," Melani's voice said. "And remember, I will never leave you."

Libbi felt the car starting to roll to a stop when her plan finally hit her.

The Angel of Death was driving his car with his prize tucked safely away in the trunk. He was tormented by the disappointing failure Derrick Warren turned out to be. He was one ridiculous failure after another. He had no spine and he had no will to succeed. Why else would he have been so eager to work with God's Avenging Angel instead of working under his own power? No matter, Derrick was dead. The Angel of Death saw his final seconds on the earth with his own eyes and shed not a tear for the lost man. He was weak and proved it in the end because he didn't even lead the charge from the front. He had let one of his cronies do it for him. Granted he did go on the charge, but he should have led it. Regardless, he was cannon fodder and worm food now. Who could have anticipated someone would have had a muzzle loading cannon in that place? Only dumb luck could have landed the assault right in front of the cursed artillery piece. The Angel of Death would regroup though and then he would bring the faithless masses back to the true Savior one way or another. He would bring them back through even greater pain and suffering than before because he knew where even greater weapons lay hidden in plain sight. The University of Pittsburgh was bound to have some nasty viruses or bacteria on ice. Pestilence would be the next cup he would pour out onto this depraved world. He would also kill the false Church yet, but for now he would be satisfied with just killing the cur's spirit. A savage smile touched his lips.

The Angel of Death did not prefer to kill with fire arms, in general, because they seemed a little too common. However when he saw the false Church's women coming toward him, he was happy he had one to use. He killed the red headed bitch that had caused so many problems in the recent past and had used the pistol as a club to knock the blonde unconscious. He wondered what sound Jake's heart made when it broke, holding one of his beauties dying in his arms and finding the other missing. He lit a cigarette and savored the delicious flavor of the tobacco. Somehow its smell and flavor only accentuated the taste of bitter pain he knew Jake must have been feeling. How delicious it was in so many ways.

The Angel of Death pulled his car into the driveway of his residence and sanctuary. Knowing crime scenes were everywhere now, instead of putting the cigarette butt in his pocket as usual, the Angel of Death threw it out of the window. The rest of the day today would be spent with his new bride, whether or not she wanted him. Excitement roused within him. He decided to light another cigarette before taking his bride out of the trunk, which was probably why he hadn't noticed the smell of smoke coming from within the trunk. No cars followed him here, he was alone to do as he would with his new toy.

The Angel of Death could take the anticipation no longer, so he put the keys in the trunk and opened it. Inside his bride lay still unconscious. He exhaled smoke and then reached in to grope one of his brides perfectly shaped breasts. They were his now after all. As he reached in for her though, he was taken by surprise.

Libbi grabbed his arm and pulled him down with all her might. He was taken off guard as he lost his balance and fell half way into the trunk. She slipped a rope made of electrical lines around his wrist and looped it on part of the spare tire bolted inside. Libbi pounced on him with the pen stabbing wildly at any exposed skin. If he was going to take her, she was going to fight to the end and make him pay dearly.

"Take that you mother fucking son of a bitch!" Libbi screeched at him as she plunged the pen down again and again.

The Angel of Death realized she had his arm and he was temporarily unable to get it back. He was also aware of the alarming rate at which she was stabbing him with what appeared to be a ballpoint pen. He made a feeble attempt to grab at it, but Libbi pulled away. She then grabbed the lid of the trunk from the inside and slammed it down on him several times. Everything went sideways for the Angel of Death for a moment. Libbi made a final stab into the Angel of Death's hand in an attempt to pin it to the trunk and then she ran for the road.

"Help me!" Libbi yelled in panic, "Somebody, help me!"

Libbi was running like a person possessed and then she realized where she was which made her momentarily stop in her tracks. No, it couldn't be, could it? Not here, not so close to everything? Just then she felt a hand grab her by the hair.

"You have been a very naughty little girl," the Angel of Death said with menace in his voice. "You will learn to behave or I will teach you to behave."

Libbi was terror stricken, but she had to know. She had to know who the man was. She had to confirm or deny what she thought to be true. Libbi spun around and punched the man in the head and then ripped off the hood which shrouded his features and was momentarily frozen.

"It can't be!" she yelled in disbelief. "I don't believe it."

"You better start believing it princess," the Angel of Death said and then again he knocked her unconscious.

Jake was racing the little dirt bike he had ridden home with Melani on only a few days before as fast as it could move. He followed the tracks of a man through the woods to where he assumed a car must have been parked. His mind was racing hoping he was going in the right direction. He rode up and down hills at speeds causing him to do jumps at times. A mysterious hand seemed to be guiding him along as he made the turns.

"You have to save Lib," Melani's detached voice said to Jake.

He had heard those final words echoing through his mind ringing into his very soul. Melani had died never knowing how much he cared about her and now Libbi was gone too. He couldn't afford to lose the two of them, not this way. If one day they grew tired of him and left or found another love it would be something different, it would be something he could live with. Having them ripped from his life as they had been was a completely different story though. Jake hammered down the throttle juicing every last drop of speed from the little bike. Suddenly, Jake was at the intersection where it had all begun for him. This was where Libbi first introduced herself to him and started what would turn into the love affair of his life. This was where he had first become a hero. He caught the sight of some smoke rising from over the hill near the campus of La Roche College.

"Follow your instincts Jake," Melani's detached voice said to him again.

"What do you mean Mel?" Jake said.

"Follow your instincts," her voice said again.

Jake set his bike into motion again and went to where the smoke was coming from. As he neared it he realized the smoke was coming from the trunk of a car. Libbi had used the cigarettes as a fuse to light the tissues on fire in hopes the rest of the car would burn and send up a giant smoke signal, it worked. The car was parked in front of an apartment. By the looks of it, the car had only just started smoldering. Blood was on the ground leading to and from the car. A wallet lay on the ground near the road where the blood trail stopped. Jake got off of the bike and picked up the wallet and opened it. The blood clinging to the outside of the wallet was still warm.

"She is smarter than people give her credit," Jake said to himself peering at a student ID of Libbi within the wallet.

Jake drew his Colt 1911A1 from its holster and followed the blood trail to a door which had a partial bloody hand print on it. Jake peered into a window to see if he could see anything inside, but no luck. Jake began to pray silently in a futile attempt to remain cool, calm, collected, and focused. He stealthily moved back to the front door and tried to turn the knob only to find it was locked. Jake then turned his attentions back to the window he had been peering through moments before. There he found the break he needed, the window was unlocked.

Jake used his knife to pry the window up an inch and then he was able to use his free hand to lift it up enough for him to fit through the opening. He stalked silently around the bottom floor following the blood trail with his pistol at the ready. The trail led to the bathroom where he assumed the bad guy must have tried to fix himself up. With no further blood trail to follow Jake walked into the kitchen. With as much care as he could, Jake opened the basement door because he saw there was light coming from below. This wasn't the type of light which came from a light bulb, but rather was the flickering type of light cast by a multitude of candles. Jake carefully descended down the stairs and was shocked at what he saw.

The dancing candle light revealed a seemingly random collection of news paper clippings, pictures, and bible verses scrawled on the walls. The more recent news paper clippings had to deal with the recent reign of terror the terrorist mad man had been perpetrating. Death counts were displayed on the wall as well as an odd collection of what seemed to be political quotes and big business deals. Who was this guy? What did he want? Why was he doing this? All of these questions and more raced through Jake's mind when something else caught his eye.

Jake turned his attention to a dark hooded figure standing in the middle of a circle of lit candles with his back turned. His hands were bandaged and had dried blood on them. The hood of his cloak appeared to be the only article of clothing on him not having a rip or tear in it. Spattered on it looked like dirt, blood and filth. The man was chanting something in a low musical tone Jake coulnd't understand. Lying at the hooded man's feet was his Libbi. She was stripped naked and laid out on a clean white satin sheet with a white satin pillow under her head. Libbi appeared to be unconscious and had been cleaned up from her time fighting over the past couple of days. On her left hand was a ring, or at least what appeared to be a ring. Why would he be putting a ring on her...? The dark hooded man dropped his cloak and bent over to kiss Libbi's naked body.

"Put your fucking hands up you lousy fuck!" Jake screamed pointing his pistol at the back of the man's head.

"Why Jake, you continue to impress me," the man said sounding eerily familiar.

"Turn the fuck around or I'll blow your damned head off," Jake instructed as he continued down the stairs.

When the man turned around Jake was given the shock of his life. The dark hooded man turned to reveal his face. Before him stood a man Jake knew to be dead, before him stood Derrick Warren.

"If you don't mind Jake, you are interrupting my wedding night," Derrick said.

"Actually I do mind. Now Derrick, back away from Libbi you sorry prick. Don't you fucking touch her," Jake said menacingly.

"I am not Derrick," he said calmly. "Derrick was weak and foolish. He lacked the will to do what was necessary. I am the one who was sent by Him to do His work. I am God's Avenging Angel, his Angel of Death."

Jake realized Derrick had gone off of the deep end. Derrick was dirty and bloodied from the final ill-fated assault on the country club turned war zone. In Derrick's right hand glittered a gleaming kitchen knife large enough to be considered a small sword in most cultures. Clearly he also hadn't fared well in a tussle with Libbi before he had a chance to knock her unconscious either.

"Derrick," Jake said calmly, "I realize things have been a little rough for you lately. Maybe you can put down the knife and we can talk like two reasonable men."

"To hell with you and your heresies false Church!" Derrick yelled. "And for the last time Derrick is dead! I am he who has been sent by Him to do His work! I am His avenging angel, the Angel of Death!"

Jake was slowly making his way down the stairs never taking the aim of his pistol off of Derrick's chest. If Derrick decided to hurt Libbi then it would be the last thing he ever did on this earth. Jake thought back on everything that had happened this past month and it all started making sense. Derrick had gone insane and had attempted to set himself up as some kind of supreme ruler. The terrorist attacks of his had succeeded better than anyone could have expected too. The government had collapsed by and large due to the economic death of the dollar. When push came to shove people tended to put their faith in whoever could get them their next meal above their ideals. He had set up his Watchmen waiting for the day he would make them necessary. Then he would swoop in and "restore order" and be able to complete his mad man agenda, whatever that might be. That was why he had killed Melani and kidnapped Libbi. That was why Jake seemed to have drawn special attention from the terrorist bomber. It wasn't because of anything he represented, it was because he possessed someone Derrick wanted and because Jake occupied the place of prestige Derrick felt he deserved.

"Derrick," Jake said deliberately, "why did you do all of this? Why kill so many and ruin so much?"

Derrick smiled and pulled a cigarette off of the table next to him. He never took his eyes off of Jake's as he lit it off one of the many nearby candles. His eyes didn't seem so much to be reflecting the flames of the candles as much as they seemed to be burning independently. The blue of his eyes sent an icy chill down Jake's spine despite the humid heat of this basement. Derrick said nothing as he stared into Jake's eyes. Jake felt the piercing gaze breaking into his very soul. This wasn't the same man he had stared down outside of Libbi and Melani's dorm. This wasn't even the same man he had met on the battlefield the day before. This man was a cold and calculating mass murderer. The light in his eyes Jake had seen before in men that had killed so many people that it had fundamentally changed them. Jake felt his normal hard shell of resolve begin to crack and his façade of strength and authority begin to melt. This might have been Derrick in body, but the dark soul he was speaking with now was someone or rather something completely different.

"Ah, so now you do understand I am His Dark Angel, don't you?" Derrick asked rhetorically. "Why don't you put your pistol down false Church and I will enlighten you as to His supreme will."

For reasons unbeknownst to Jake he complied. In every corny movie Jake had ever seen the hero would do the most idiotic thing of taking a trained weapon off of the bad guy. Never did it turn out well, but yet now he was the idiot hero committing that very same folly.

"Very good," Derrick said condescendingly, "If you would care for a cigarette you may take one of mine."

Jake suddenly felt a very strong urge to smoke and didn't know why. The cigarettes were sitting right next to Derrick so Jake said distantly, "No thanks, I have some of my own."

"Very well," Derrick relented as Jake lit one of his own cigarettes. "You have seen the world have you not?" Derrick said as he waited for Jake to nod. "Then you must agree the world has fallen away from the Lord God Almighty. This country has fallen into disunion with His will."

"Ok," Jake said tepidly, "I see where you're coming from, but don't you think this is a little extreme?"

"This false Church truly is blind isn't he?" The Angel of Death pondered quietly. "Then answer me this false Church," Derrick began, "Why do you defend a nation who has sold its soul to the highest bidder? Can you seriously claim big business doesn't run this country in its entirety? Alternative energy was pioneered in this country in the 1970's, but when big business oil was threatened, the government mysteriously decided alternative energy wasn't necessary anymore. Heck, Ronald Reagan even took solar panels off of the White House because big oil didn't like the precedent it set. Even in war we let big business dictate our actions."

"How do you figure?" Jake said, "I was in the army and I don't know if I am exactly convinced."

"We went into Afghanistan because they attacked us, do you agree?" Derrick asked and waited for Jake to nod. "Why did we go into Iraq?"

"We thought they had weapons of mass destruction which turned out to be mostly bogus," Jake answered, "You're not going to say we went in for oil are you? Because I know firsthand that the French, Russians, and Chinese have the lion's share of it."

"No, you are right," Derrick relented. "We did not go for oil. We went because we thought they had weapons of mass destruction. Did you ever wonder who first thought they might and why though?"

"I'm sorry, but I don't follow," Jake said perplexed.

Derrick sighed before he said, "Vice President Dick Cheney. He was on the board of little firm you might have heard of named Halliburton. They have a subsidiary named KBR, which as you know, owns every civilian contract in one way shape or form with the military."

"Why not just funnel the money and more troops into Afghanistan then? Why go to war in a totally different country?" Jake asked.

"Come on false Church," Derrick said as if speaking to a halfwit child, "You know as well as I do that Iraq was more developed. Being more developed means you would need much more men and materiel. Reconstruction projects galore as well as your Forward Operating Bases. Not to mention the boat load of money made through arms sales to a brand new Iraqi Army and Iraqi Police force. Hundreds of billions of dollars spent to line the pockets of big business. Even for the jihadists, it is all about big business. The longer the conflict goes the richer the leaders become from the donations to their cause. Haven't you ever wondered why we don't crush them outright and why they do not perpetrate any actual attack that would bring us down, but only goads us?"

"Ok, even if all of that is true," Jake began, "Why then did you target the country as a whole? Why kill the innocents who are clearly not part of the military industrial complex?"

"Because they are part of the problem as well," Derrick said. "They have become corrupted by greed and they have abandoned their moral compass. We have shopped ourselves straight into the unemployment line at Wal-Mart, Kmart, and every other big box store. In order to keep such ridiculously low prices, they buy their inventories from overseas. Local suppliers and companies who deal with them outsource, killing American jobs. We all know this to be the truth, yet have you ever gone into a Wal-Mart and not seen it full of patrons? Our national motto of "In God We Trust" is nothing but the greatest hypocrisy of all time now. Secularism and atheism, self love and self worship, and the love of money and power, has usurped God as the head of state and personal god of the people. If not, why then was the phrase one nation under God removed from the pledge of allegiance? Why is it people feel so threatened by the Ten Commandments, God's law, they have held protests for its removal from courthouses? Why now do we call Christmas, the birth of Christ, just the "holiday season" I ask you?"

"Ok," Jake relented tentatively, "Why then attack paramedics and EMTs? Those are people who only look to help others and to heal the sick? What wrong have they ever done?"

"Because you fool," Derrick said with an irritated tone, "They are the perpetrators of some of the greatest evils and injustices of all. They do not just look out for others. They look out for their stock holders. Otherwise healthcare would be available for all people all of the time. How else can the most innocent of sick children be turned away from a doctor's office and left to suffer yet the most perverse and sick of the guilty deserve legal representation? It is all because of money and those who style themselves as gods before God. The Lord of Lords and Host of Hosts once said we should pluck that which was wicked and cast it into the fire so that which was good could flourish. Did God not say if thine eye offends thee pluck it out? Will you now deny that which you know to be the truth?"

Jake was impressed by how articulated his arguments were and then said, "No, I cannot deny most of the substance of your argument." Derrick's look was that of self-satisfaction, but then Jake continued saying, "But you went about correcting the problem the wrong way. You murdered countless innocents to include children too young to know sin. How can you justify that?"

Derrick mumbled something inaudible before saying, "Did God not tell the Israelites to kill everything that drew breath when they were taking the Promised Land from the Canaanites? Regardless, I corrected my mistake by destroying the institutions which would corrupt their minds against Him. Has not my continued success proven I have God's blessings?"

"Quite the contrary," Jake said abruptly. "You have been dealt defeat after defeat. I believe God has given you a chance to repent and come back into the fold by sparing you from the final assault on our compound. Put down the knife and come with me Derrick and I'll help you."

"Enough of your heresies you charlatan! I am His Dark Angel. I am he who was sent by Him to do His work!" Derrick screamed as he lunged for Jake with the knife.

Jake jumped backwards to avoid Derrick's wild thrust at his abdomen. Jake pulled the knife off of his belt and parried away another thrust at his stomach. Jake's back was against the wall now both literally and metaphorically with his second bound back. With nowhere to go Derrick prepared to deliver a final blow, but as he began to strike Jake grabbed one of the candles and threw the pooling hot wax at Derrick's head. Derrick screamed when the hot wax hit his face. Jake took the opportunity to kick his knee and then upper cut him in the jaw sending him crumpling to the floor.

Jake ran to the still unconscious Libbi lying next to this altar of a madman. He shook her shoulders saying, "Libbi, wake up. Wake up Lib!"

Slowly Libbi opened her eyes and she recognized her rescuer, "Jake you came for me."

"Of course I did darlin. I wouldn't leave you, not when I still had a breath of life in me," Jake said with a comforting smile.

Then, as her wits returned to her, Libbi asked, "Is Mel really..."

Jake cut her off and said, "I don't know, but we are going to do everything we can for her." Jake didn't have the heart to tell her Melani had died in his arms. "Now let's get you dressed and then we can..."

Jake never got to finish his sentence when he felt a sudden searing pain in his back. Jake screamed and then collapsed to the floor motionless. Derrick had regained consciousness quicker than Jake had thought he would and when he did he threw the knife he had been carrying into Jake's back. It landed home and buried itself deep in what appeared to be a mortal wound.

Derrick took two or three long strides and was standing over the body of Jake Church. By the look on his face he was bound and determined to make sure Jake stayed dead this time, but Libbi intervened when she said, "Oh Derrick my love, is that you?"

Derrick was shocked at hearing his beloved address him so, which froze him in place. Could it be? Could Libbi have realized his greatness only now that he had slain the false Church before her very eyes?

Libbi looked to her left hand at the ring Derrick placed there and smiled saying, "My husband, you have waited so long and fought so hard for me."

"Yes beloved. I have," Derrick said still in an amazed glow. "Why are you only now realizing this?"

"Don't trouble yourself so on such a doubts my beloved," Libbi said rising from her satin sheet. "God has revealed to me his plan for us. We are to be as one and we are to bring His law back to His people."

Derrick fell into her inviting eyes. The light danced this way and that on her beautifully formed body magnifying every rise and curve. Her golden locks of hair caressed her perfect skin dancing over her pink nipples. God was rewarding him to the fullest extent for his works, and for slaying the heretic Jake Church, with his bride. Finally, she was his both body and soul forever more. Derrick stepped toward her and partook of her full red lips. No wine ever made by man could have tasted sweeter or have had such an intoxicating effect. His hands fell from her face and drifted down her smooth curves until they settled on her gorgeously toned buttocks.

When their kiss broke Derrick said, "Now beloved we shall consummate our marriage before the altar of the Lord God Almighty with the sacrifice I have offered him of that cursed heretic."

"Shhh," She said raising a finger to his lips, "waste not your time on the deeds of evil men when we are to celebrate our blessed union."

"Of course my love, my Aryan princess, if you desire it, so shall it be," Derrick said.

Libbi kissed him again and unfastened Derrick's pants which he promptly stepped out of. She then took off his shirt and let his cloak fall to the ground. Then she lay back on the white satin sheet with her head on the white satin pillow and said, "Come to me and receive your just rewards beloved."

The hate which had been the driving force in his heart melted away into passion and arousal for his new bride. Derrick assumed a position above her and between her legs and then said, "And the Lord said the two shall be made one flesh."

Just before he could do such a thing though he felt a stabbing pain in his back and he screamed. As he spun around he saw the cursed Jake Church was not dead, but was in fact very alive. He had taken the knife Derrick had thrown into his back and used it to stab Derrick in his. Blood was streaming down Jake's right arm and back, but not in the way it should have if Derrick had hit the artery he had been aiming for.

"Now we finish this you lousy cur!" Derrick shouted in a mixture of pain and fury. "How dare he interrupt my wedding night," he thought to himself.

Before he could rise from the ground though, he felt another pain which came exploding from his right side. He turned around to see that Libbi had taken the knife Jake had dropped when he was hit by the knife Derrick had thrown and had buried it in Derrick's right rib cage. He felt a popping sensation in his chest as the knife collapsed his lung. All the hate and all the love and all the betrayal felt by all peoples who had ever walked this earth and would ever walk this earth did not equal what Derrick felt.

"Here are your just rewards you son of a bitch!" Libbi yelled as she pulled the knife out of his ribs and then she stabbed him in the neck saying, "Now go to hell!"

Derrick made a few more gurgling gasps as he collapsed to the floor in a pool of blood. The Angel of Death mocked Derrick's weakness as the two lay there. He had done what was necessary, but had let his pride overtake him. This was his fatal flaw, his mortal sin, which he would now be punished for with his life. With all that was left in him he sat back up and grabbed for Libbi's arm. Instead Libbi dodged his grasp and gripped his blond hair now streaked with red. She peered into his eyes as he made his last gasp and then Derrick, and in turn the Angel of Death, was no more.

When Melani awoke she found herself in an unfamiliar place. She was wearing a paper gown and had an oxygen mask over her face. Cords and tubes seemed to sprout from every conceivable part of her upper body. She felt very light and was only dimly aware of the pain in her abdomen.

"I love you too," Jake said appearing over her smiling.

When Jake came back with Libbi everyone was so surprised they had almost forgotten to tell him the good news. Melani had passed out from shock and had not died in Jake's arms after all. Quick thinking, and work in the improvised emergency room of the country club, had got her stable enough to be transported to Passavant Hospital where she could receive emergency surgery and a blood transfusion. It was pretty touch and go for awhile but Melani, being the fighter she was, just refused to die.

"Could this really be or am I really dead?" Melani thought to herself. "Jake?" she asked feebly. "Where's Lib? Did you save her?"

"I'm right here babe," Libbi said suddenly appearing over her, "and I love you too."

Libbi hadn't ever imagined saying those words to another woman and meaning it the way she meant it now, but stranger things had happened. In fact, Libbi so loved her friend and Jake she was willing to make any sacrifice for them.

"Everything is going to be ok now," Jake said to her as he tenderly caressed her red hair, "We will get through whatever lays ahead together."

"Well," Libbi said, "If you want him all to yourself Mel, then you can have him because you deserve him."

Libbi learned throughout this ordeal what true and lasting love was all about. While she loved Jake and knew he could be the love of her life, she realized how much more Melani loved him and saw the love in Jake's eyes as he gazed into the emerald green ocean of Melani's. A true friend is willing to sacrifice and a true love is willing to let the object of their affection go if it's happier elsewhere. This was the type of selfless love Libbi had for them.

Melani was shocked by the offer of happiness Libbi had just given her. She was so shocked she did something she hadn't done since her mother died, she began to cry. These were not the tears of loss she had felt before, but were the tears of gratitude and joy she thought she was incapable of ever having. She was so moved she almost forgot to accept the offer.

"Lib," Melani began, "I don't know what to say."

"You got me through this Mel and you have always been there for me," Libbi answered. "You love him in a way I couldn't even fathom," Libbi continued, "just keep me in your lives."

Melani looked hopefully into Jake's eyes. She had dreamed maybe she could be enough for him and he could be happy with just her, and be in love with her the same way she was in love with him. His eyes were deep and soft.

"Nothing would make me happier," Jake said smiling down at her.

Melani and Jake were a deep and unyielding love. Libbi never left them and not as a lover, but as a true friend to them both. Together the three of them would enter a strange new period in American history. The conflict fundamentally changed all of them for the better. Dr. Parks never realized he could regain the part of him he had lost decades earlier as a young man in Vietnam, but he had. Being forced from his alcoholism and thrust back into making life and death choices reminded him of what being an American citizen was all about. Demetrius Raines for a time would be the main authority in the Pittsburgh region managing the police and reconstruction. Damian Andrews remained his loyal second in command. The Sarandos family had their cannon purchased from them by the government, where it would go on display as "the gun of freedom" for all to see as a memorial to the courage of citizens in defense of their country. The family casted another larger one the following day and set the medal they received into the rear of the gun to mark their right to keep and bear arms. The country was never the same.
Epilogue

"Hello and my name is Jeff Goodwin on the scene," the newscaster said. "The events of our recent past can never and will never be forgotten. The rise and fall of the Watchmen was a bloody one. It ended behind me here at the Wild Wood Country Club in what is now being referred to as The Battle of Sample Road. Two fierce days and one fierce night of fighting ended in the total destruction and surrender of this vigilante group. Its founder and leader, Derrick Warren, led a final charge designed to be the death blow for governmental forces, but due to the resourcefulness and quick thinking of Niko Sarandos and Ned Parks disaster was averted. They used a homemade Civil War style cannon to push the vigilantes back. All of this started when a terrorist who styled himself "the Angel of Death" started attacking gas stations and other infrastructure in our peaceful town. We now know the identity of this Angel of Death as none other than the founder and leader of the Watchmen, Derrick Warren. The surviving members of the vigilante gang deny ever knowing that he was in fact the terrorist behind the mayhem from the beginning, but further investigation is planned. Another investigation into possible atrocities is planned as well which survivors of the group categorically deny. However, with so many victims crying foul and so many people still missing no one can know for sure. While the megalomaniac Derrick Warren did fail in his attempt to control this part of the country, he did succeed in other ways. Even now the dollar is losing value faster than they can be printed off at the US mint. Inflation is running rampant and the term "deficit spending" has become almost as vile as many other four letter words that I cannot speak on air. Our once powerful machine of a free market consumer economy has ground to a halt and all of America's creditors have called in their debts. With American troops headed home and the influence and prestige of our nation at an all time low one can only ask, what is in store for our country's future? Again, I am Jeff Goodwin, good night and God bless."

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Thank you, reader, for taking the time to read this novel. . I am always interested in what others have to say about my work so please email me with any questions or comments you might have at author_mike_andrews@yahoo.com.

Very Respectfully,

Michael Andrews

About the Author

Michael grew up in Allison Park, PA, a suburb of Pittsburgh, and attended Hampton High School. Later he attended The Ohio State University where he received a degree in Security and Intelligence with a focus on Counter-Insurgency and Physical Security. In 2004 Michael enlisted in the United States Army National Guard and served with the 1-148 infantry and the 585th MP Company. Upon graduation, he was commissioned as an officer in the Field Artillery and served with the 10th Mountain Division. Michael is also married to the woman of his dreams and is the proud father of two boys.
