ablaze.
Each gunner and driver manning the weaponized pickup trucks saw, heard, and felt the same thing before the lights went out: a hard
“Machine-gun nests are neutralized as well,” Wayne Macomber, wearing the Tin Man armor, radioed. “They were only half manned, mostly by older guys.”
“We detected two less technicals than before,” Rob Spara, manning the bank of laptops at the squadron, radioed. John de Carteret was orbiting the Knights of the True Republic’s compound overhead at 9,500 feet, maintaining real-time surveillance and acting as a communications relay node for this operation. The sensor images were being beamed to Charlie and Whack as well as to Rob. “They must’ve lost more residents than we thought.”
“I’m moving in,” Patrick radioed. He was in the crew-cab pickup, with David Bellville driving, heading up the dirt road toward the compound. “Heads up, everyone.”
But it was soon apparent that the layers of defenses set up around the compound were gone, replaced by residents with little more than walkie-talkies and flashlights. Patrick and David were not challenged — in fact, some of the residents left their post and followed Patrick’s pickup toward the inner compound.
The gates to the inner compound were wide open, and David drove right up to the church and outdoor meeting area. There was several sheriffs’ patrol cars parked there as well. Patrick and David got out of the pickup and were met moments later by Whack. The meeting area was about half full. The residents seated there were silent, not moving — no one turned to look at them. “This is weird — kinda Jonestown-like,” Whack radioed.
The three walked up the main aisle toward the dais. Again, no one made a motion to stop them or even looked up. Reverend Jeremiah Paulson was standing at the lectern, dressed all in black, his head bowed, a Bible in one hand, his Uzi still slung on his shoulder.
“Come on out in sight, Charlie,” Patrick radioed. A few moments later, the CID approached the meeting area from the opposite side and walked right up to the last row of chairs, towering over the seated residents. Again, no one turned to look at it. They heard babies crying and a few sobs, but no one spoke or even moved.
Patrick stepped forward and stopped at the edge of the platform on which Paulson stood. “Reverend Paulson, what’s going on here?” he asked.
“This is a memorial service for our murdered family members,” Paulson said. “We are in deep mourning. We are observing a period of silent vigil that will last until daybreak.”
“ ‘Family members’?” Patrick asked. “They’re not traitors to your community anymore?”
“They were never traitors, General,” Paulson said. “They were always members of our family. They are now martyrs in the civil war that is tearing the Constitution and this nation apart.”
“How many did you lose, Reverend?”
“Twenty-seven killed or wounded, including eleven children,” Paulson said. “Whoever did such a thing is a monster and needs to be eliminated.”
“Reverend, the FBI thought you engineered the attacks in Reno and Pahrump and the missile attacks against the drones doing surveillance over your compound.” Paulson said nothing. “Many believe you were responsible for today’s bombing outside the base.” Still no response. “You weren’t involved in any of them, were you?”
“We are a peaceful community, General,” Paulson said. “Yes, we have weapons, but they are weapons for self-defense only. We would never attack innocents — only those who seek to do our community harm. We care nothing about being spied upon, as long as we are left alone to live our lives as God and the framers of the Constitution intended.”
“Then why didn’t you speak out against any of it, Reverend?” Patrick asked. “Why didn’t you cooperate with the FBI, allow them to search the compound? They could have refocused their resources on the real extremists.”
“I think you know exactly why I did not, General,” Paulson said, looking directly at Patrick for the first time. “The Fourth Amendment to the Constitution of the United States of America. The FBI had no warrants to search our homes — they wanted to search simply because they wanted it, and that is not permitted in the United States under the Constitution. Simply because a horrific disaster or crime occurs is no reason to suspend the Constitution. Do you agree, General?”
“I do, Reverend,” Patrick said. “I refused to talk with the FBI without my attorney present, even though a nationwide state of emergency existed and almost every other member of my squadron had already cooperated. They tried to blackmail my son to inform on me for them.”
“Then you understand completely,” Paulson said. “We have a right to be secure in our persons, houses, papers, and effects against unreasonable searches and seizures. There is no caveat, no exceptions, no provision that says, ‘Unless the FBI orders otherwise.’ ” He sighed. “But there is too much distrust in our community, and it is tearing us apart. We have decided to disband.”
“You’re breaking up the Knights of the True Republic?”
“I think the true believers will still push for true freedom, less government, and more personal responsibility,” Paulson said, “but the idea that we can live apart from our neighbors in our own purist society is not realistic. Rather than ensuring our own happiness and security, it has turned our neighbors against us. That was not our goal.”
“So what will happen?” Patrick asked.
“Most will go to your air base, look for work, and join with others to form a stronger, tighter community, with the help of the federal government and the military,” Paulson said. “Some will probably join other independent communities; a few will try to form their own cells of like-minded idealists. Everyone is free to do whatever he or she chooses. As for this community: some will stay and try to keep it alive, but in the end, it’s not separation and anonymity that guarantees success, but cooperation and community. We forgot that truth years ago, and it’s hurt us. It’s time to support the greater community once again.”
Paulson reached down from the dais and extended a hand. “It was a great privilege to meet you, General McLanahan,” he said. Patrick shook his hand. “You are indeed a patriot. I believed you wanted to use your technology to destroy our community. I see that I was mistaken. One word of advice, however: don’t rely too much on the technology. You have some fine people here that want to help you rid our community of extremists — rely on
“I will, Reverend,” Patrick said. He turned and started to leave…
… when suddenly Whack rushed forward between Patrick and the dais and shouted,
… but not at Patrick… he aimed upward from the bottom of his jaw. He closed his eyes, shouted, “God bless the True Republic!” and pulled the trigger. Except for a few children who cried out at the gunshot, no one in the audience moved or said a word as the lifeless body hit the dais.
Patrick led the others into the FBI hangar, with Whack carrying the folded-up CID unit himself. Patrick was surprised to see Michael Fitzgerald there, examining the bullet-ridden wreckage of the second Cybernetic Infantry Device, which had been hit by gunners in the Knights of the True Republic’s compound. “Hey, Fid,” Patrick said.
Fitzgerald looked at amazement at the Tin Man as Whack set the stowed CID unit in its charging cradle. “Who in hell are
“It’s kind of late to explain, Fid,” Patrick said wearily. “What’s going on?”
“I went over to the squadron to see if you needed any help with the surveillance,” Fitzgerald said, “and Rob said you’d be over here. What happened? Where were you guys?”
“Out at the Knights’ compound.”
“Did you fight it out with them? I heard they have all sorts of weapons out there.”
