13
D MINUS 74
LAS ANIMAS COUNTY, COLORADO
Joshua Rennenkampf let the Palomino set its own pace up the mountain slope. The sun, where it shone between the trees, was hot; but the air had a cold bite to it in the shade. A nasty winter was due, and even this far out Josh could tell it was on the way.
Josh was tall and lanky, with classic Nordic features. His blond hair was grown out almost down to his collar, and he used the beard trimmer just often enough to keep perpetual five o’clock shadow. When he entered civilian life his divorce from the Army manifested in his appearance and his sleep schedule, if not his tactical mindset.
A rifle scabbard hung hunter-style from his saddle rig, and a pistol was holstered on his hip. From the opposite hip hung a scabbard full of oversize survival knife–the ESEE Junglas. In his breast pocket was a lensatic compass.
He didn’t anticipate using any of this today. Most people didn’t expect to get in automobile accidents, either, but they still paid for car insurance.
Beside the horse trotted two pit bulls–a 90 pound male and a 60 pound female. The female,Valkyrie, was buckskin, with amber eyes. The male, Ragnarok, was brindle all over except for black socks and tail, and a white patch on his belly. He looked like a burglar’s worst nightmare, and probably was, though he had been just a growing puppy only a month ago. Neither had ears or tails cropped, as was the fashion for the breed.
So far only one of his traps had paid off for Josh. The raccoon dangled below his saddlebags.
He rode up to a spot overlooking his third and final trap, and saw that it, too, was empty.
Josh patted his mount, Denver, on the neck. “Looks like I still got some learning to do, huh?” He turned Denver around and let the mustang pick it’s own way down the slope. Both he and the horse were startled when his phone rang. The dogs both cocked their heads to the side and stared curiously. He pulled the phone out of his breast pocket and checked the caller I.D.
It was Jennifer.
“Hey,” he said. “How’s it going?”
“I’m here,” Jennifer’s youthful, feminine voice answered. “I think this is the south entrance I’m at.”
“That’ll work,” he said. “Just hang the cable back across when your car is inside. “Keep it in low gear. First fork, make a right. After that, always go left. I’ll meet you at the house.”
“I remember,” she said. “Okay.”
He continued down the slope, thinking about Jennifer’s tone of voice during their brief exchange. Was she still upset with him? It didn’t sound like it, but then who could tell?
They’d had their first fight on her last visit when he insisted she leave her cellphone outside in her car. She’d thrown a few words at him, including “unreasonable” and “paranoid,” the latter most likely applicable, but he told her that her choices were to keep it out in the car, or with her, turned off, after he had removed the secondary battery. She told him tampering would void the warranty.
He had wanted to give in, but didn’t. More and more judges were ruling that, by voluntarily carrying around a device with a microphone in it, a citizen waived his Fourth Amendment protections.
When she left after that argument, he assumed it would be the last time he ever saw her. It was too bad, because she meant a lot to him.
Then, after a few weeks, she called. They began talking again, and she soon asked if he would still take her riding up in the mountain. Who could figure women? But when Jennifer sprang surprises on him, they were usually of the pleasant variety.
He heard the engine of her Jeep straining to make it up the steep driveway. His emotions were haywire. On the one hand, he missed her; but on the other, he dreaded this visit if they were just going to pick up where they left off last time.
Denver felt his own way down the trail and made it to the flat shelf a couple minutes after the Jeep. Josh dismounted and tied Denver to the hitching post in front of his dome house.
Ragnarok and Valkyrie had gone ahead and beat him to the shelf. They now stood facing the Jeep’s driver door, tails wagging in sync like windshield wipers.
The Jeep door opened and Jennifer got out. “Hello, babies!” she said, stooping to pet the dogs. Valkyrie especially loved the attention and jumped up, her paws landing on Jennifer’s jacket.
“Get down, Val!” Josh snapped. “You know better than that.”
Val dropped to all fours, ears swinging back and head smoothing into an abashed expression. But her tail kept wagging.
Jennifer was short but shaped nicely. Her red-bronze face was pretty, but had a kind of toughness to it that Josh assumed was normal for the Shawnee nation. What he liked best were her radiant brown eyes.
They walked toward each other and she smiled, then hugged him, pulling back quickly.
Platonic. Well, so be it.
“They’ve both gotten so big,” she said, reaching down to pet the dogs as they escorted her on either side. She then held up both hands as if ready to be searched. “Don’t worry—no cellphone. I left it in the car.”
“Nice trip?” Josh asked.
“It was,” she said. “I’ve really got to pee, though.”
He waved toward the front door of his dome home and she headed toward it. He fell into step behind her and couldn’t help admiring the scenery, glad she was wearing tight jeans, but half-wishing she wasn’t at the same time.
“When you’re done,” he said, “we can eat if you’re hungry.”
“I’m fine,” she said over her shoulder. “I’d like to start out right away. That gives us more riding time.”
His house’s exterior was painted subdued earth tones that blended in so well with the surrounding environment that it wasn’t easy to see unless you knew what you were looking for.
They entered, both dogs taking a seat outside the door.
Inside were several shelves sagging with books; Josh’s commo nook full of shortwave and HAM radio gear; and his server and four desktops.
Josh had removed the portrait of his ex-wife from the wall prior to Jennifer’s very first visit here. If nothing else, Jennifer’s friendship had helped him exorcise that particular ghost.
While Jennifer was in the bathroom, Josh fetched the pair of chaps he had bought for her. She came out and he handed them over.
“What are these?”
“There’s cactus and thorny bushes out here,” he said. “You may get brushed up against something with sharp edges now and then. These will protect your legs.”
“Oh, these are chaps,” she said. “Like the cowboys wear.”
They went out to the stable and saddled Indy, the mare, and went off on their ride.
He took a trail that led farther away from his traps, with a gentler grade. Both he and Jennifer were novice riders, so he figured excessive caution was the best way to avoid doing something stupid. He hadn’t owned the horses long and was learning their strengths and weaknesses even as he learned about horsemanship in general.
Only a couple miles up the trail some snow had stuck, but it was shallow enough the horses had no trouble with it. The dogs couldn’t have been happier, either, licking up the snow on the run and snooping around in general.
Joshua and Jennifer didn’t speak much, but every time he glanced her way, she seemed to be enjoying herself.
“It’s so picturesque up here, ” she said. “It’s crazy to see snow this time of year.”
“High elevation,” he said. “If it’s high enough, you get snow year-round.”
“But it’s worse in the winter, right?”
Josh nodded. “And there’s supposed to be a bad one coming up.”
Before long, the dogs’ ears swung forward and tails extended down. Ragnarok growled.
“Stay on me,” Josh said, but the dogs’ instincts were too powerful and they bolted forward to investigate. Josh sighed and Jennifer giggled.
“Needless to say, we’ve still got some training to do,” Josh said.
“I’m impressed that they’re not barking, though,” Jennifer said, always seeing the glass as half-full.
Josh noticed movement between the trees far ahead, perpendicular to the path of his dogs.
“Did you see that?” Jennifer asked.
He nodded.
“Is it a bear?”
He waited to reply until he got a better look. When he did, he saw it was another party of horses and riders moving across their path. No more growling or other noise from the dogs, nor sign of a struggle, either. “Looks like my neighbors.”
The two parties drew close and Josh recognized Paul Tareen, a tough-looking hombre with a black mustache, his sons Dan and Reuben, both dark-haired and whipcord thin like their father, and his daughter Terry. They greeted each other and Josh introduced Jennifer, noticing the looks of appraisal she got from the two young men. Ragnarok and Valkyrie came back to sit at either side of Denver, panting, tongues hanging out from the run.
“This is the family that sold me the horses,” Josh said, smiling at his neighbors.
“They’re beautiful,” Jennifer said.
“How do you know each other?” Terry asked, gaze bouncing between Josh and Jennifer.
As little as Josh understood women, he was fairly sure Terry had a crush on him. At 19, Josh considered her far too young for him, but she didn’t seem to agree. Josh had always looked younger than his years, inspiring unflattering nicknames like “Baby Face” in some circles. In the past he’d tried growing his beard out to look more his age, but he didn’t like how it felt when it got long. It itched and felt greasy.
“I’m friends with her uncle,” Josh said, assuming he had been downgraded from boyfriend since the cellphone incident.
Terry, a pretty blonde with dimples in both cheeks, appeared to like this answer. But not Jennifer. In fact, maybe he was reading too much into it, but he had the impression Jennifer took a dislike to Terry from that moment.
“You been keepin’ an eye on the Chapanee situation?” Paul asked.
“The Bar G Ranch?”Josh asked. “Yeah. Just read the latest before I went up to check the traps this morning.”
“You think it’s gonna get ugly?” Paul asked.
“I think it’s already ugly,” Josh said.
“Yeah. Man can’t dig a retention pond on his own property…” Paul said, shaking his head. “The Feds will use any excuse to steal from us.”
“The land owner got sent to the hospital for a heart attack,” Josh said. “You know they’re gonna work on his son—see if they can get him to cave in.”
“What do you think about this Jade Helm business?” Reuben asked. “Is it just a cover for beginning martial law?”
“They’re supposedly just carryin’ blanks,” Dan said. “I think they just might have live ammo.”
Josh shrugged. “Hey, I’m a civilian like you. I’m out of the loop. Best I could do is speculate.”
“Please do,” Paul said, with a worried frown.
“I really do think it’s an exercise,” Josh said. “Will they springboard from it into martial law? I don’t think so. For one thing, they’re using SOCOM personnel—not who you’d want to earmark for occupation troops. Two things SpecOps have always done is special operations, hence the name, and military advising. So first off it’s probably another psychological prep for the population—get civilians used to seeing soldiers patrolling Elm Street and Oak Street like it’s no big deal. The Pentagon has been pushing more and more of these exercises over the last several years. Another thing it does is familiarize the participants with the terrain that a real operation might play out on in the future—a special operation, to take out the most dangerous leaders of a potential resistance movement, for instance.”
“Night of the Long Knives,” Paul mused aloud.
“Or it could be so they can advise foreign troops how to effectively pacify this region,” Josh added.
“You think American soldiers would really go along with all this?” Reuben asked.
Josh nodded, feeling a pang of the old heartbreak again. “I do. Soldiers are mostly folks who were taught what to think by government schools and the idiot box, just like everyone else. They haven’t read the Constitution and, these days, probably lack the reading comprehension even if they tried. So all they know about it is what they’ve heard.”
“From government schools and the idiot box,” Paul said, frowning.
Josh sighed and nodded. “Almost nobody joins for patriotic motives. I was an oddball because I did. It’s all college money, signing bonuses, and job training. The different branches recruit by appealing to mercenary instincts, so they get mercenaries. G.I. Joe is gonna do whatever he’s told to do. Likely they’ll have him overseas in some U.N. Or State Department manufactured hellhole violating somebody else’s rights, anyway, while foreign troops are dealing with us. Bottom line is, don’t put your trust in our military. It’s not ours, anymore.”
“The weapons and equipment ain’t even made here now,” Dan remarked. “We could never go to war with China—all they’d have to do is stop sellin’ us what we need to fight.”
“They have to do away with posse comitatus, too,” Rueben opined. “They know police will be a joke if they come up against organized resistance. They need combat troops if they get serious about coming for our guns.”
“They pretty much have done away with it,” Josh said. “But posse comitatus was never as restrictive as we wish it was. Not that politicians will abide by even the most simple laws, anyway. And nobody appreciates the danger of standing armies anymore.”
Paul turned solemn. “Josh, you reckon you could start teachin’ me and the boys…um, Morse Code one of these weekends?”
Paul wasn’t talking about Morse code. He obviously didn’t know if he could speak freely in the presence of Jennifer. As the neighbors had gotten to know each other over the years, they found out Josh was a Special Forces vet. One primary mission for Special Forces was to train indigenous armies for war. “Advising.” Paul was asking Josh to train him, his sons and some like-minded friends for a war they believed was coming right to their back yard.
“I’ll drop by your place one of these days,” Josh said, “and we’ll talk about it.”
Terry flashed a charming smile at Josh.”Maybe you could show me some orienteering, Joshua?”
“What’s the matter?” Josh asked. “Your brothers don’t savvy land navigation?”
“I bought compasses for all of them,” Paul said. “But we haven’t tried to use them much.”
“You can do it without a compass, right Joshua?” Terry asked. “At night, by using the stars?”
Before Josh could answer, Jennifer said. “He can. He taught me how. I can teach you.” The offer was made in a sweet tone of voice, and Jennifer’s expression was innocent enough, but this struck Josh as the proverbial hissing and scratching of a cat announcing her ownership of the turf in question. Terry seemed to take it that way, judging by the fading smile and furrowing eyebrows.
“Matter of fact,” Paul said, oblivious to all the covert saber rattling between the females, “if you’re not doing anything for Independence Day, we’d be obliged if you’d come over and spend the day with us.”
“You can try some of my potato pie,” Terry suggested, undaunted.
“I appreciate it,” Josh said. “Sounds good.”
They exchanged a few more pleasantries and bid goodbyes.
Josh continued along the trail with Jennifer following. He expected either an angry outburst, or the silent treatment. Not that he had been anything more than polite with his neighbor’s daughter. But since when did facts ever matter to a woman?
Jennifer surprised him again, though. She asked a few reasonable questions about his neighbors, but never escalated the exchange to an argument.
He turned back just after the waterfall so they would make it home before dark. The ride was a pleasant one, with horses and riders getting familiar with each other along the way. When they reached the house, Jennifer asked to take a shower. While she did that, he stabled the horses, rubbed them down and fed them.
Jennifer was still in the bathroom when he came indoors, but the water was no longer running. He called through the bathroom door, “You wanna eat something before you go?”
Her answer didn’t come right away. “I’m staying here tonight, aren’t I?”
That was the agreement originally, but judging by her lukewarm greeting and attitude, he assumed she had changed her plans. “You’re welcome to stay if you want,” he replied.
“I thought that was the whole idea,” she said, rustling something around on the other side of the door.
“Well, yeah. But I figured you only wanted to go riding, after…” He shrugged, deciding to drop it and just play this visit by ear.
“After what?” she asked.
“Nevermind,” he said, and went to the kitchen.
As he dug through the freezer, she entered the kitchen wearing a bathrobe she must have brought along, and a towel wrapped around her head. “What are you doing?” she asked.
“Trying to figure out what we’re going to eat,” he said.
She grabbed the freezer door out of his hand and waved toward the doorway. “Why don’t you clear out. I’ll take care of this.”
“Cool. I’ll go make sure the guest room is ready, then.”
“And call Uncle Tommy,” she said. “He wants to talk to you about something.”
Josh rounded up sheets, blankets and pillows, and made the guest bed for her. Jennifer was the only guest he’d ever had sleep over at this house; and he’d been convinced they were finished as a couple, so he hadn’t anticipated using the guest room again.
Josh wondered what Tommy Scarred Wolf wanted to talk about. For the several months after returning from Indonesia Tommy had continued the investigation which probably got he and his brother Vince marked for ruin in the first place. But then Tommy got too busy with the whole county sheriff thing and slacked off.
Josh opened up his video conferencing program and dialed his old friend. It worked much like Skype, only it was strongly encrypted—a custom program he’d installed on his and Tommy’s desktops.
Tommy was an old buddy from Josh’s A-Team in 5th Group. Tommy was a living legend getting short when Josh was an FNG fresh from the Q-Course. Still, they were like-minded in those days and got tight. They remained friends even after Tommy got out, but after Josh’s time in Iraq years later…things changed. Joshua’s attitude soured regarding the people running the U.S. government. Over time, the more he learned, the sour attitude became seething animosity, which trickled down to nearly every bureaucrat and person with any kind of authority. Tommy had become a cop like his brother, and that strained their friendship. Then he left the Tribal Police and went over to the Feds for a while, which was when Josh completely turned his back on him.
Then Tommy showed up one day right here on the mountain, in desperate need of Josh’s help. Joshua still didn’t completely understand why, but he couldn’t turn Tommy down.
Josh got wounded helping Tommy on Sumatra. Then everything was further complicated when Jennifer came into the picture (her father was murdered, so Tommy was even more protective of her than normal). But somehow when all was said and done, Josh and Tommy were good friends again, as if they’d never had a falling out.
“Hey Tommy,” Josh greeted. “Jenny says you wanted to talk.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Tommy replied. “I have something new for you to keep track of. Maybe dig at a little, when you have time.”
“Is it related to the secret teams?” Josh asked.
Between what Tommy and Vince dug up, plus some information their friend Rocco Cavarra had once been privy to, they had pieced together evidence pointing to an ongoing black ops division hidden inside the intelligence community. The division employed an unknown number of clandestine “tier zero” teams, a couple of which Rocco and the crew ran into overseas. They strongly suspected at least one of the secret teams specialized in false flag ops.
After a hesitant pause, Tommy said, “I have no evidence of that. But it’s something that looks pretty big. I can’t really do much more digging from here without getting The Man back on my tail.”
Josh fancied himself a pro at hacking into secure resources without being detected. “Whatcha got?”
Tommy told him about an epidemic of occult rituals involving both animal and infant sacrifice. Tommy himself had traced connections from some of the practitioners to classified government programs. He wanted Josh to glean more information, on the down-low.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Josh said. They exchanged a little more information and hung up.
After the meal of buffalo burgers and diced potatoes Jennifer cooked, Josh thanked her and bid her good night. His plans for the evening involved some reading on the living room couch before turning in.
He wasn’t ready for her to sit in his lap, wrap her arms around him and stick her tongue down his throat. It stunned him, but was certainly another pleasant surprise.
The towel-turban was gone now and she looked earthy and glorious with her long black hair hanging down.
They had been affectionate with each other before, but something was different about this time. Jennifer was really revved up, and soon had his motor running at redline. He let his hands roam over her, and she didn’t protest. Her breathing became heavy, but she didn’t push his hands away until he began to slip one inside her bathrobe.
She pulled away, but he tugged her back into his lap. “Don’t sleep in the guest room tonight,” he whispered. “Stay with me.”
Her only answer was a quavering moan and he was sure she’d finally surrendered. Careful not to make any sudden moves, he climbed to his feet, cradling her in his arms, and carried her to his bedroom.
All went well until he got her out of the bathrobe, then she shook her head and began crying. “I want to, Joshua. I really want to, but I can’t.”
He sighed and pulled away from her. He didn’t want to argue. Besides, her crying killed the mood for him, anyway. He patted her on the arm, draped the robe back over her, and stood to leave. But she grabbed at his arm and pulled him back.
“Don’t go,” she pleaded, wiping her eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Is this about religion, still?” he asked.
She didn’t answer. Which meant yes.
She sniffled and tried to smile, sitting up to wrap her arms around him.
“Since when,” she asked, “am I just the niece of a friend of yours?”
“Since your last visit,” he replied. “Our knock-down drag-out about the stupid phone. And reinforced just now. Did I miss something?”
She licked her lips. There was concern, if not fear, in her deep brown eyes. “We may not agree on everything; but I don’t want to lose you, Joshua.”
“That’s good and all,” he said. “But there are some things about me that will never change.”
She tossed her hair. “The one thing about me that will never change is my faith. And I believe I should only give up my virginity when I’m married.”
“Then why are you wasting time with me?” he asked, with an irritated tone. “There must be millions of church boys out there who would do everything you want.”
“I’m not in love with them,” she said. “I want you.”
“But only on your terms.”
She chewed on her lower lip. He sighed.
“I don’t want to fight,” he said, half-turning. “I’ll see you in the morning.” He pulled away again, but she tugged him back, locking her fingers between his.
He was doing just fine by himself. Why did she have to bring all this drama into his life?
She placed her palm against his face. She looked like she was ready to cry again. “I’m not willing to give up on you.”
He hugged her, patting her back. Sexually frustrated as he was, he tried to give her what comfort he could.
After a while, she composed herself and asked if she could borrow a computer to check her email. He set her up, then checked his news updates on a different computer.
The item of most interest to him at the moment was the standoff in the Chapanee Valley. According to the video feed from one of his most used alternative news sites, the Feds had backed off. His fellow wingnuts were celebrating all over the country, like they’d just destroyed the Death Star and saved the galaxy from the Empire.
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The link to False Flag is also on the upper right sidebar.
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