I had an idea which I put the pen to. This a different perspective than what you are used to.
What Are You Advertising?
The white slightly
bruised and rust stained Chevy Impala idled quietly, its exhaust emitting thin wisps
of vapor and drops of water in the chilly May morning. The occupant, twenty
year old Sean Stein sat back in the driver’s seat, trying to be as
inconspicuous as possible. His life was about to take an irreversible turn.
Sean nervously
tapped the steering wheel, and for what seemed to be the hundredth time,
glanced down at the towel covered, sawed off, double barrel 12 gauge shotgun
laying atop the passenger seat. His mind wandered back to the recent past…
“Professor!” Sean
spoke rather loudly and increased his pace, trying to catch up to Professor Mark
Dohrn.
Professor Dohrn
turned and smiled, recognizing the thin, bearded brown haired young man as one
of his top students in his ‘Revolutions and Governments’ class. “Sean, what’s
the hurry?” He asked.
“Professor…” Sean
said pausing momentarily, trying to gather his thoughts “…I’d like to ask you
about…”Sean paused again and then stammered “…when you...”
The Professor looked
Sean directly in the eyes. “Let’s walk outside. We can talk privately.”
Professor Dohrn put his arm around the student, leading him through the side
door. Under ordinary circumstances, touching students by a teacher would be
forbidden, but in Liberal Arts College circles, touching was quite accepted.
They walked to a wrought iron and wood bench and sat. “What would you like to
know Sean?”
Sean nodded and said
“I’m tired of this stuff. I mean, nothing seems to be happening. The world is
collapsing around us, and all we can do is…” He said as his voice trailed off with
a note of frustration. “Look, Professor, I know you’ve done this before. You
were very active in the 60’s right?”
“I was.” He replied.
“And let me say that there are some things I cannot talk about.” He said and
paused a moment. “I understand there are rumors that I was on the FBI’s 10 Most
wanted for a brief time.” He said with a wry smile. “It’s true. I was a part of
the Weather Underground Organization.” He paused and looked around trying to
see if anyone was within earshot. “I understand your frustration. There are
some whose comfort level is holding signs and shouting protests, and some will
attempt civil disobedience.”
“But that wasn’t
you, was it?” Sean asked.
“No, and I suspect
that the reason you’re here now is that civil disobedience and sign-holding
protests aren’t for you either, are they?” He asked.
“No…I want to be
more active.”
The Professor looked
Sean in the eyes and said. “I’ll have someone contact you.” With that said the
Professor rose and started to leave.
“Umm.” Sean tried to
speak
“That’s all I can
say, Sean.” He said with authority as he strode off.
…Sean looked at his wristwatch. His target has been in the
grocery store for twenty minutes now. Sean’s nervousness was starting to get
the best of him. After all, not many people plan on killing another human being
in cold blood. Sean’s mind raced with the thought. His mind responded ‘This
isn’t cold blood, after all this planet-killing man deserves it. His
advertising said who he is, a Republican, gun-owning, cop or fireman. This guy
probably voted against everything that was right…that meant voting against
clean water, clean air, a woman’s right to choose, gay marriage…’ The list went
on and on, and as Sean’s mind raced, he now became angry. He now wanted more
than anything else, to kill this guy. Sean took a deep breath and thought about
his first contact with the Party.
…Friday evening, schools out and time to relax. Sean and his
two most favorite people; Sarah Albright and Benson Fowlkes were all together,
drinking wine and having dinner. Sean, Sarah, and Benson were life long friends.
They became friends early on from Junior High School. Since then they shared
everything. Sean was the more aggressive and outspoken of the group, while
Sarah was the computer nerd, and Benson was the engineer who could figure out
anything that was mechanical. It was a full two weeks since Sean had his
conversation with Professor Dohrn, and the trio was pretty anxious about it. A
knock at the back door interrupted their conversation.
Benson answered the
door and invited a man inside. “My name is Nicholas.” The tall athletic man
said.
Sean and Sarah came
into the kitchen to see the person behind the voice and introductions were
made. “The Professor sent me.” Nicholas said, getting to the point. “I’m your
contact and will handle all of your training.”
“So, you’ve accepted
us?” Sean asked.
“Accepted isn‘t
quite the term I’d use. But yes, your initial background check as well as
Sarah’s and Bensons were satisfactory.” Nicholas said eyeing the three.
“What kind of
training are we going to have?” Sarah asked.
“We are going to
teach you the basics of tradecraft. Like dead drops, coded communications, how
to follow someone and being able to ditch a tail, firearms training, and as you
progress we will get into explosives.” Nicholas didn’t hold back, he looked at
each for their reactions. He was pleased with what he saw. It was always nice
to have fresh students. Once they understood their part of the Party’s goals
and their personal mission, attitudes might change.
Nicholas continued,
“Your job is very important and quite risky. The rewards will come later as we
gain victory over the enemy. You three will become a cell. You will have no
further contact with the Professor. All contact with the Party will come
through me, understand?” He stated. “It is for your protection and for ours.”
…Movement brought Sean’s mind back to the reality of the
moment. His target now exited the supermarket, and with half of a cart of blue
plastic bagged groceries and headed towards his late-model club cab pickup
truck. The man paused at his truck, glancing around at the vehicles within his
immediate range. Unlocking the door electronically, he unloaded the foodstuffs
into the rear passenger seat, then got behind the wheel, and started
driving.
Sean waited a few
moments as the targets truck exited the parking lot. He then put the car in
gear and headed out. He let the target get about three blocks ahead. After all,
Sean knew where the man lived and as long as they were headed in the right
direction, he was somewhat comfortable. The target made an unexpected stop at a
local bakery. Evidently there was something not right at the bakery, as he took
an inordinate amount of time inside. Sean tried to relax by closing his eyes
and deep breathing.
…”So what makes you an expert in this kind of thing?” Sarah asked Nicholas with a sly seductive
smile.
“US Army Special
Forces, with two tours in Afghanistan.”
He replied.
“So you’ve…um…killed
people before?” She asked, the seductive tone gone.
Sean nodded his head.
“Yeah, it was part of the job, No one likes that part, but when your ass is on
the line, and it’s you or him…you just want to make sure it’s him.” He paused a
moment. “The Taliban were very worthy opponents, good fighters. I mean, anybody
that can stand up to the most advanced military in the world…and force US to the
bargaining table for a surrender, has my respect.”
“So, why are you now
doing this?” She asked, while motioning with her hands.
“You mean why leave
the Army and train radicals like yourself to kill?” He said bluntly.
Sarah was taken back
with that comment. “Yes”
“I saw during my second tour what our country had really
become.” He said pausing briefly, “We aren’t in Afghanistan
to do anything noble, we’re there for the defense contractors. We think that we
can take a country who is as backward as anything you’ll find on topside planet
earth, and change them into a civilized democratic society.” He took a breath
and continued. “We’re killers of the worst kind, cowards who use drones to take
out whole families to get to one person.”
Sarah looked at the
young soldier affectionately, and reached out her hand to his arm.
“Look, if I can help bring down those who are responsible, then I’ll die a happy man.” Nicholas
said quietly, and withdrew slightly from her light touch. “Sarah, there’s a
good chance you’ll get hurt or arrested, worst case, we all get killed.” He
said looking her directly in the eye.” It’s best not to get too attached to
someone in war.”
“Are we at war?”
Sarah asked.
“We will be in a few
weeks.” Nicholas said confidently.
“Maybe you should
explain to us before we go further, what we can expect.” Sean asked from the
opposite side of the room.
“Ok fair enough.”
Nicholas paused and looked down, trying to arraign his thoughts. “You will be
one of hundreds of cells scattered across the country. On Friday May 1st,
you will be tasked with taking out one of the enemy. It will be completely
random, and will be chosen by you. I’ll help you with this.” He said with a
smile. “The next day, we will take out another of the enemy. By this time the
news media might have a clue that something is up, as there will be
hundreds of republican earth killers being shot.” He said and then added,
“Sunday will be the turning point, we attack Christian churches and kill as
many as we can. Now, you won’t be involved with the Sunday attacks, we have
groups that have been specifically trained for this.”
“So after three days
of attacks…don't you think that the enemy will strike back?” Sean asked.
“We hope so.” Said
Nicholas with a sly grin. He continued, “We want the enemy to attack us.
You see after the third day, the news media will be clued in to the killings
that follow. So any republicans that want to attack us will be singled out as
murderers. At this time we hope…President Obama will declare a state of
emergency and martial law.”
“Martial law?!
That’s NOT good.” Sean exclaimed.
“Hold on…” Nicolas
replied with a chuckle “…ok look, I know on the outside Martial law doesn’t
look all that good, and we lose a lot of freedom, but we figure…”
“We?” Benson chimed
in.
“The Party.” Nicolas
replied. “Now look, let me give you what our analysis is, ok?”
The trio nodded.
Nicolas continued.
“There are four entities of this countries government. First is us, the
Progressive Democrats. Now we control certain parts of the government and make
policy, but there is another group which we don’t totally control. These guys
are the alphabet agencies and the military. They are only concerned with
continued governance. Third are the republicans, and the conservatives.
Understand?” He said at the trio. “Finally, the general civilian population…and
their three hundred million firearms.” He paused. “Now if we can get Martial
law enacted, then we’ll have Martial law for a long time. We’ll do everything
to disarm the population and then eliminate the troublemakers.”
“Ok.” Sean said
speaking for the group. “So if we are successful…we have a good shot of this
thing succeeding?”
“Damn straight.”
Nicolas said with a determined smile.
…The target exited
the bakery with a large flat box, probably a cake of some sort, He put it in
the passenger seat and started down the street. Sean held back a couple of car
lengths and on the drivers side. At the next intersection, the light changed,
and this was what Sean was waiting for. Taking the towel off of the shotgun, he
pulled up beside the Ford truck. Sean used the window controller on his side of
the door to lower the window. Taking a deep breath, he removed the safety,
raised the weapon, resting it on the passenger window sill and firing the first
round. The explosion was deafening, but expected.
The driver of the ill-fated Ford F150 pick up, Luis Gallego, was off duty today. Luis had 12
years in with the county as a police officer. Today was his daughter Alyssa’s
sixth birthday. The explosion, slightly off target, blew lead and glass into and smashed the head and
shoulder of officer Gallego. After what seemed like an eternity, the officer, still alive,
shook his head and came to the conclusion he had been shot. Reaching down to
his right ankle, Luis retrieved his small back up pistol, while looking at the
car next to him at the same time. As he started to bring up the pistol, he saw
the double-barreled shotgun release its second round. In slow motion, Officer
Gallego watched the pellets tear him apart. He felt no pain, but he knew he was
dying.
He slurred his last
words silently. “I don’t remember if I told Helena
that I love…her.”
The black pick up
rolled across the intersection and stopped after hitting the light pole at a
slow speed. Witnesses would come up from behind and see the blood-splattered glass, which
highlighted the rear windows stickers. Two red circular decals adorned the
right side, one identifying the driver as a Marine and the other a NRA decal. On the
left side a Sig Sauer decal and finally a bumper sticker of a Republican
Governor candidate.
The end.
So, what’s your
advertising?
It’s my hope that something is
learned through this fictional story. If you want to repost to other sites,
that’s fine. All I ask is that you give me credit and link to this site.
Thanks,
Jmurman
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