“Hey Eric, look at the smoke rising over Atlanta,” Tamati Enzo nudged Porter in the side. They were sharing a seat in the back of a bus filled with fellow soldiers. “I can’t fucking believe this is America.”
Eric Porter looked like a privileged young man, Ralph Lauren handsome, and it was easy for others to assume he had everything handed to him. That he was somehow privileged and shallow. Yet Enzo knew that his friend had earned everything he had through his own sweat and blood.
“Yeah I see it. Looks like a warzone.” Porter ducked his head down to look through the lower pane of the window into the distance, seeing large pillars of black smoke rising into the air many miles away. What had now been nicknamed the Urban Riots were quickly getting out of control. First Detroit, then Chicago, Philadelphia and now Atlanta. He was reminded of the news clips he had seen of the LA riots in the nineties, only this was much worse.
***Cut to mid-chapter 1***
By now the sky was nearly black, they could see grey clouds rushing in, covering the moon. It added to the darkness and feeling of danger, it also highlighted the overturned car, seeming to glow as it burned. Other cars and homes were black husks, burned the previous days. Rioters were bringing Atlanta to dust.
“Another dead dog,” Enzo motioned to Porter as their unit began their march up the road.
“There’s a charred body over there,” Porter replied as every block seemed to reveal a new shock.
Enzo flicked a flashlight beam on a strange silhouette only to see a young male impaled on a metal post. “What the fuck!”
“Gang shit probably,” Porter replied callously as they moved closer to the burning cars.
“This is like a horror movie,” Enzo mumbled. Up ahead they could see silhouettes against flames now. A group of rioters. Sounds of yelling and destruction melded with the crackle of flames. Another helicopter passed overhead.
Their pace slowed as they entered active hostile territory and the men in the front put their shields up. The single story homes were replaced by two and three story apartment buildings built in a ring around the commercial district of this low income suburb. The rioters were moving; pacing and strutting around. Porter couldn’t make out any numbers but there were dozens for sure.
They had set another car on fire as well as some piles of who-knew-what right on the road, creating a virtual wall of fire to stop their advance. The fires were bright enough that he could make out individuals on the other side. They were mostly young black males but also a few older men. Some of them were shirtless, others had on hoodies, bandanas and ski masks. Some carried bats and bottles and bricks. Porter looked hard for firearms. He couldn't see any but he was certain they were there.
As the wall of fire began to slowly dwindle down, the mob of rioters had amassed and Porter could now see there were well over a hundred. Bradley gave the order to move forward.
The helicopter flew back overhead and cast a spotlight on the mob, causing a few of them to scatter. A loudspeaker from the chopper ordered everyone to drop their weapons and surrender. The mob shouted back with vulgar screams. The soldiers continued to move closer, much slower now as they held their shields up and pressed together tightly.
As the distance closed, the unit was assaulted by rocks and bottles, most deflected or hitting the shields and shattering. Soldiers flanking the formation shined their flashlights into the adjacent buildings to make sure they were empty. Bradley announced over the com that all non-lethal weapons were fire-at-will, instantly leading to a few of the men firing tear gas into the crowd. The rioters scrambled and moved like a living wave. Soldiers in the second row shot rubber bullets at them. Some of the rioters dispersed but most worked through the waves of tear gas with masks or bandannas.
“Incoming projectiles,” a man in the front row yelled as more rocks and bottles slammed into their plexy shields.
The soldiers returned fire with rubber bullets and the rioters did their best dodging and hiding behind vehicles or walls. One rioter did not move however, and the spotlight from the helicopter focused on him in the middle of the street as rubber bullets whisked to the left and right of him. He looked enraged, cursing at the soldiers and throwing anything he could at them.
“Shoot the fucker,” one of the soldiers in the front started yelling. Porter felt adrenaline surge through his blood, he aimed and fired. The rubber bullet struck the man in the throat then ricocheted off into the darkness. He fell to the ground instantly. For a moment there was a silence, finally broken by the enraged screams of other rioters. Another round of rocks and bricks pelted their shields. One rock deflected off the top of Porter’s helmet. He jerked in surprise, but held his position as Enzo helped stabilize him.
No more than a few seconds later Porter noticed a flash of light from the roof of a nearby building. A small flame arced through the dark air. Porter caught a glimpse of a man’s silhouette as he tossed a lit Molotov into their formation. The bottle smashed into the pavement. Instantly a whirlwind of fire engulfed several soldiers. They panicked, running away from the front line with their arms and vests covered in flames, causing the unit to begin falling into disarray. Porter started panicking at the chaos only to look up and see another man was tossing a large object down from the roof. It crashed with a fury on a soldier’s head, crumpling him. An air conditioner!
“Holy shit,” a soldier screamed.
“Fall back,” Bradley commanded over the headsets, though only half the soldiers were still in any semblance of a formation. Two soldiers ran over to the downed man, dragging the corpse with them in retreat. Feeling emboldened, the rioters began firing pistols at their formation. The man in front of Porter took a bullet to his helmet which ricocheted off and knocked him backwards but he quickly regained his composure.
“Lethal force is authorized,” Bradley finally announced. Porter drew his pistol. A teenage boy, too stupid or brazen to know better, ran up close to them, aiming a pistol. Before he could pull the trigger, a soldier put a bullet in his chest and he fell dead. Several other rioters who got too close were shot down as well and they backed down on their advance.
All eyes were fixed on the mob scrambling in the darkness in front of them as they shuffled back in their retreat. Porter wasn’t looking behind until Enzo screamed, “Watch out!”
He turned to see a young man rushing him with a machete in his right hand, already cocked back over his right shoulder to swing. Before he could strike, he heard a shot ring out over his shoulder and the attacker fell backwards to the ground. Enzo had shot him in the face and as he fell the machete clanked on the ground, bumping Porter’s foot.
There was no time for thanks as they continued a frenzied retreat. Something caught Porter's eye as he glanced up he could see several small circular drones hovering about thirty feet above him. The drones moved forward and let loose a wall of tear gas. Porter was sweating profusely and finally ripped off his helmet as it was restricting his vision. He continued watching in confusion as the drones began shooting neon green paint balls at the rioters as they ran around.
“Up there,” Enzo yelled as he pointed to the top of an adjacent building. Porter zeroed in on a man lighting another Molotov. He aimed and shot multiple times, hitting the Molotov, causing it to explode in a fireball onto the man. The screams lasted for only a few seconds and ended as quickly as they started.
The withdrawal was successful and their unit took a defensive position in a house a few blocks away. They were still far from the safety of the fifty-cal machine guns but it would have to do. Porter remained outside with his pistol drawn, guarding the area, feeling strange about how alone they were and how quiet it had gotten. Still fearful that the rioters could be stalking them. After thirty minutes passed without conflict, he finally began to ease up.
Enzo rejoined him outside and patted him on the back. “Hey bro, you doing okay?”
“I guess,” Porter replied. “What’s the status?”
“One dead, three missing.”
“Jesus,” Porter said solemnly. “Thanks for saving my ass back there.”
“Sure thing,” Enzo replied as though it was no big deal.
“What the hell are we doing out here?” Porter said in a soft yet strained voice. “Why at night? I just don’t get it. Are they trying to get us killed?”
“I’ve been thinking about that too…and the only thing I can come up with is that they didn’t want the world to see what was happening here tonight. How chaotic this has become. Think about it. It’s much easier to hide bodies at night, ya know?”
"Makes sense. What was with the drones shooting paint balls, did you see that?"
“Yeah, kind of weird.”
“Hold up...” Porter cut him off, motioning towards the street. A black Humvee with lights turned off was slowly making its way up the street, flanked by twenty or so men on each side. As they got closer, Porter flashed his flashlight quickly to get their attention. One of the men hurried over to their position, covered from head to toe in black, complete with body armor, helmet, and carrying a small MP5 sub machine gun with a silencer attached. His face was covered by a black ski mask and resting high on the helmet was a small set of night vision goggles.
“Are you guy’s Unit Sixty?”
“Yeah,” Porter replied, “who are you?”
“A transport will be here shortly,” the man replied, before abruptly jogging back towards his convoy which then disappeared into the darkness.
“Who the hell was that?” Enzo asked with curiosity as he looked to see if they were all gone.
“Couldn’t tell.”
“He had some RH patch on his vest. You know what that’s about?”
“An RH?” Porter stopped to think. “Was the R backwards, pressed against the H?”
“Yeah why?”
“Because I worked with guys in Bahrain who had that symbol. It stands for Right-Haven, as in the private military contractor, Right-Haven Security. Those fuckers were notorious for some brutal shit in Iraq I heard. All acquitted of course.”
“What the hell are mercenaries doing out here?”
“Probably the dirty work," Porter said off-hand.
“You mean they’re going up the street to what, kill everyone? And what was with the silencer?”
Porter thought for a moment. "Oh shit. I get it now. The paint balls were marking rioters. They'll shine like fire flies for the night vision."
"That doesn't explain the sound suppressors."
“I don’t know and I don’t care at this point,” Porter admitted blatantly. "This isn't my problem."
“You don’t care,” Enzo said in amazement. “Using private security forces against Americans is fucking creepy to me, man. Hell, using the military is pretty bad too. You know, when I signed up for the Army I thought I would be defending my country.”
“You are defending the country."
“Well what do you do when your country asks you to shoot at its own people? I thought we were supposed to protect the people?”
“Well what about law and order?” Porter asked, trying to justify what they were doing. “If we don’t keep the American people under control there will be anarchy. Plain and simple”
“Well whose side are you going to be on when one day our government is so fucking corrupt and violent that the people demand a revolution? Are you willing to shoot protesters because some fucking asshole in Washington wants to keep things under control?”
“Is it really our right to question orders,” Porter asked. “We voluntarily signed up for this shit and you can’t just pick and choose what orders you follow.”
“Of course you question orders. Would you just shoot at protestors if ordered to like they did at Kent State in the seventies?”
Porter paused for a moment. “I don’t know, man. I know that’s fucked up but I don’t, and right now I really don’t feel like talking about it.”
“Well I don’t believe you would. That’s not you. I’ll never follow orders I can't live with.”
“So you’d lose your career just like that?”
“Just like that,” Enzo stated with the snap of a finger. “I can find another job. I can’t find a new soul.”
Thanks for Reading.
If you would like to support this effort please go to my kick-starter page
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/874526763/shadows-of-tyranny-a-pro-liberty-science-fiction-n
Please contact me with any questions.
Copyright ©2014 by Nick Morenz
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems – except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews – without the permission in writing from the author.
Eric Porter looked like a privileged young man, Ralph Lauren handsome, and it was easy for others to assume he had everything handed to him. That he was somehow privileged and shallow. Yet Enzo knew that his friend had earned everything he had through his own sweat and blood.
“Yeah I see it. Looks like a warzone.” Porter ducked his head down to look through the lower pane of the window into the distance, seeing large pillars of black smoke rising into the air many miles away. What had now been nicknamed the Urban Riots were quickly getting out of control. First Detroit, then Chicago, Philadelphia and now Atlanta. He was reminded of the news clips he had seen of the LA riots in the nineties, only this was much worse.
***Cut to mid-chapter 1***
By now the sky was nearly black, they could see grey clouds rushing in, covering the moon. It added to the darkness and feeling of danger, it also highlighted the overturned car, seeming to glow as it burned. Other cars and homes were black husks, burned the previous days. Rioters were bringing Atlanta to dust.
“Another dead dog,” Enzo motioned to Porter as their unit began their march up the road.
“There’s a charred body over there,” Porter replied as every block seemed to reveal a new shock.
Enzo flicked a flashlight beam on a strange silhouette only to see a young male impaled on a metal post. “What the fuck!”
“Gang shit probably,” Porter replied callously as they moved closer to the burning cars.
“This is like a horror movie,” Enzo mumbled. Up ahead they could see silhouettes against flames now. A group of rioters. Sounds of yelling and destruction melded with the crackle of flames. Another helicopter passed overhead.
Their pace slowed as they entered active hostile territory and the men in the front put their shields up. The single story homes were replaced by two and three story apartment buildings built in a ring around the commercial district of this low income suburb. The rioters were moving; pacing and strutting around. Porter couldn’t make out any numbers but there were dozens for sure.
They had set another car on fire as well as some piles of who-knew-what right on the road, creating a virtual wall of fire to stop their advance. The fires were bright enough that he could make out individuals on the other side. They were mostly young black males but also a few older men. Some of them were shirtless, others had on hoodies, bandanas and ski masks. Some carried bats and bottles and bricks. Porter looked hard for firearms. He couldn't see any but he was certain they were there.
As the wall of fire began to slowly dwindle down, the mob of rioters had amassed and Porter could now see there were well over a hundred. Bradley gave the order to move forward.
The helicopter flew back overhead and cast a spotlight on the mob, causing a few of them to scatter. A loudspeaker from the chopper ordered everyone to drop their weapons and surrender. The mob shouted back with vulgar screams. The soldiers continued to move closer, much slower now as they held their shields up and pressed together tightly.
As the distance closed, the unit was assaulted by rocks and bottles, most deflected or hitting the shields and shattering. Soldiers flanking the formation shined their flashlights into the adjacent buildings to make sure they were empty. Bradley announced over the com that all non-lethal weapons were fire-at-will, instantly leading to a few of the men firing tear gas into the crowd. The rioters scrambled and moved like a living wave. Soldiers in the second row shot rubber bullets at them. Some of the rioters dispersed but most worked through the waves of tear gas with masks or bandannas.
“Incoming projectiles,” a man in the front row yelled as more rocks and bottles slammed into their plexy shields.
The soldiers returned fire with rubber bullets and the rioters did their best dodging and hiding behind vehicles or walls. One rioter did not move however, and the spotlight from the helicopter focused on him in the middle of the street as rubber bullets whisked to the left and right of him. He looked enraged, cursing at the soldiers and throwing anything he could at them.
“Shoot the fucker,” one of the soldiers in the front started yelling. Porter felt adrenaline surge through his blood, he aimed and fired. The rubber bullet struck the man in the throat then ricocheted off into the darkness. He fell to the ground instantly. For a moment there was a silence, finally broken by the enraged screams of other rioters. Another round of rocks and bricks pelted their shields. One rock deflected off the top of Porter’s helmet. He jerked in surprise, but held his position as Enzo helped stabilize him.
No more than a few seconds later Porter noticed a flash of light from the roof of a nearby building. A small flame arced through the dark air. Porter caught a glimpse of a man’s silhouette as he tossed a lit Molotov into their formation. The bottle smashed into the pavement. Instantly a whirlwind of fire engulfed several soldiers. They panicked, running away from the front line with their arms and vests covered in flames, causing the unit to begin falling into disarray. Porter started panicking at the chaos only to look up and see another man was tossing a large object down from the roof. It crashed with a fury on a soldier’s head, crumpling him. An air conditioner!
“Holy shit,” a soldier screamed.
“Fall back,” Bradley commanded over the headsets, though only half the soldiers were still in any semblance of a formation. Two soldiers ran over to the downed man, dragging the corpse with them in retreat. Feeling emboldened, the rioters began firing pistols at their formation. The man in front of Porter took a bullet to his helmet which ricocheted off and knocked him backwards but he quickly regained his composure.
“Lethal force is authorized,” Bradley finally announced. Porter drew his pistol. A teenage boy, too stupid or brazen to know better, ran up close to them, aiming a pistol. Before he could pull the trigger, a soldier put a bullet in his chest and he fell dead. Several other rioters who got too close were shot down as well and they backed down on their advance.
All eyes were fixed on the mob scrambling in the darkness in front of them as they shuffled back in their retreat. Porter wasn’t looking behind until Enzo screamed, “Watch out!”
He turned to see a young man rushing him with a machete in his right hand, already cocked back over his right shoulder to swing. Before he could strike, he heard a shot ring out over his shoulder and the attacker fell backwards to the ground. Enzo had shot him in the face and as he fell the machete clanked on the ground, bumping Porter’s foot.
There was no time for thanks as they continued a frenzied retreat. Something caught Porter's eye as he glanced up he could see several small circular drones hovering about thirty feet above him. The drones moved forward and let loose a wall of tear gas. Porter was sweating profusely and finally ripped off his helmet as it was restricting his vision. He continued watching in confusion as the drones began shooting neon green paint balls at the rioters as they ran around.
“Up there,” Enzo yelled as he pointed to the top of an adjacent building. Porter zeroed in on a man lighting another Molotov. He aimed and shot multiple times, hitting the Molotov, causing it to explode in a fireball onto the man. The screams lasted for only a few seconds and ended as quickly as they started.
The withdrawal was successful and their unit took a defensive position in a house a few blocks away. They were still far from the safety of the fifty-cal machine guns but it would have to do. Porter remained outside with his pistol drawn, guarding the area, feeling strange about how alone they were and how quiet it had gotten. Still fearful that the rioters could be stalking them. After thirty minutes passed without conflict, he finally began to ease up.
Enzo rejoined him outside and patted him on the back. “Hey bro, you doing okay?”
“I guess,” Porter replied. “What’s the status?”
“One dead, three missing.”
“Jesus,” Porter said solemnly. “Thanks for saving my ass back there.”
“Sure thing,” Enzo replied as though it was no big deal.
“What the hell are we doing out here?” Porter said in a soft yet strained voice. “Why at night? I just don’t get it. Are they trying to get us killed?”
“I’ve been thinking about that too…and the only thing I can come up with is that they didn’t want the world to see what was happening here tonight. How chaotic this has become. Think about it. It’s much easier to hide bodies at night, ya know?”
"Makes sense. What was with the drones shooting paint balls, did you see that?"
“Yeah, kind of weird.”
“Hold up...” Porter cut him off, motioning towards the street. A black Humvee with lights turned off was slowly making its way up the street, flanked by twenty or so men on each side. As they got closer, Porter flashed his flashlight quickly to get their attention. One of the men hurried over to their position, covered from head to toe in black, complete with body armor, helmet, and carrying a small MP5 sub machine gun with a silencer attached. His face was covered by a black ski mask and resting high on the helmet was a small set of night vision goggles.
“Are you guy’s Unit Sixty?”
“Yeah,” Porter replied, “who are you?”
“A transport will be here shortly,” the man replied, before abruptly jogging back towards his convoy which then disappeared into the darkness.
“Who the hell was that?” Enzo asked with curiosity as he looked to see if they were all gone.
“Couldn’t tell.”
“He had some RH patch on his vest. You know what that’s about?”
“An RH?” Porter stopped to think. “Was the R backwards, pressed against the H?”
“Yeah why?”
“Because I worked with guys in Bahrain who had that symbol. It stands for Right-Haven, as in the private military contractor, Right-Haven Security. Those fuckers were notorious for some brutal shit in Iraq I heard. All acquitted of course.”
“What the hell are mercenaries doing out here?”
“Probably the dirty work," Porter said off-hand.
“You mean they’re going up the street to what, kill everyone? And what was with the silencer?”
Porter thought for a moment. "Oh shit. I get it now. The paint balls were marking rioters. They'll shine like fire flies for the night vision."
"That doesn't explain the sound suppressors."
“I don’t know and I don’t care at this point,” Porter admitted blatantly. "This isn't my problem."
“You don’t care,” Enzo said in amazement. “Using private security forces against Americans is fucking creepy to me, man. Hell, using the military is pretty bad too. You know, when I signed up for the Army I thought I would be defending my country.”
“You are defending the country."
“Well what do you do when your country asks you to shoot at its own people? I thought we were supposed to protect the people?”
“Well what about law and order?” Porter asked, trying to justify what they were doing. “If we don’t keep the American people under control there will be anarchy. Plain and simple”
“Well whose side are you going to be on when one day our government is so fucking corrupt and violent that the people demand a revolution? Are you willing to shoot protesters because some fucking asshole in Washington wants to keep things under control?”
“Is it really our right to question orders,” Porter asked. “We voluntarily signed up for this shit and you can’t just pick and choose what orders you follow.”
“Of course you question orders. Would you just shoot at protestors if ordered to like they did at Kent State in the seventies?”
Porter paused for a moment. “I don’t know, man. I know that’s fucked up but I don’t, and right now I really don’t feel like talking about it.”
“Well I don’t believe you would. That’s not you. I’ll never follow orders I can't live with.”
“So you’d lose your career just like that?”
“Just like that,” Enzo stated with the snap of a finger. “I can find another job. I can’t find a new soul.”
Thanks for Reading.
If you would like to support this effort please go to my kick-starter page
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/874526763/shadows-of-tyranny-a-pro-liberty-science-fiction-n
Please contact me with any questions.
Copyright ©2014 by Nick Morenz
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems – except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews – without the permission in writing from the author.