It is such a driving passion to tell stories that could make one pause and reflect on where we were and where we are, to gain a better understanding of where we are going. The only problem is that when we look at where we are and perceive of where we're going, then the story always, inevitably come out shocking and ... dare I say spooky. It is never my intension to paint a bleak picture, but the truth can set us free.
These are days when we have all heard that God should damn America, that we cling to God and guns because we are bitter and fundamentally ignorant and that we live in a mean country. It all means that we are fighting a real war abroad against Islamic terrorist who wish to destroy but can only wreak havoc. At home we are in a much more chronic and lethal war that threatens to rip the conscience from America and then to fragment her to death. The not too slow and not so hidden shift in the nation’s thinking and affection for their country has been evidenced by the nation’s readiness to elect a man has no experience in foreign affairs, has had dealings and friendship with a known, confessed domestic terrorist and who has been the center of every anti-American statement that was spoken in the 2008 Presidential campaign.
I wrote Patriot Acts for the express purpose of spinning a tale with so much clarity and realistic fervor that it might cause those who read it to understand the peril of seeing a transparent danger and refusing to do what is required to kill it before it is strong enough to kill us all. Today, America faces enemies that make the world of the Cold War seem like much brighter times. The Islamic forces that have declared Jihad on America have caused the greatest threat to the life of the United States since World War II.
In Patriot Acts, America finds itself under covert nuclear attack from the Islamic Republic of Iran which has linked up with American Militia groups, which have set aside their political and religious differences to carry out the widest and most deadly attack on America in the nation’s history. The only person who can effectively retaliate against their aggression is Fisher Harrison, the best trained Special Ops killer the military has. The only problem is that he is in a federal prison, framed for a murder he did not commit, framed by his former boss, the President of the United States of America. You will take an amazing journey that will take you from Alaska to the Midwest and to the heart of the nation of Iran itself as two enemies unite to save the nation, while two enemies are unified to bring the country down. You will be amazed how possible this story is and may be shocked by how close to home and to reality that it could be! The main question is whether America is willing to do what may be necessary in order to preserve, protect and defend the constitution of the United States of America. You will read about actions that are not acts of terror, not acts of vengeance but in reality, Patriot Acts, many of the same decisions the next President shall surely be compelled to take.
Now, I hope you will read this excerpt from Patriot Acts, which will be the last excerpt that will be published prior to Patriot Acts being released. I think you will see the result of allowing a ticking bomb of apathy and ignorance.
Patriot Acts by Steven Clark Bradley - Border Insecurity
April 14, 2009 7:20 PM
The City of Nogales is there and back again in the shear uniqueness of being a split city that spans the southern border of Arizona. Unlike Kansas City though that lived, worked and slept in two states, Nogales shared the borders of two countries, The United States and Mexico. The last time anyone had checked, the city comprised 20,878 people, 5,985 households, and 4,937 families residing in this mostly Spanish-speaking city. This place was cherished and even had its own folklore. It was said that in this crossroads of the Sonoran Borderland, Nogales, Arizona possessed a goddess for the journey through life and for the places which one encounters along the way. The name of this goddess was Hecate, the guardian of the crossroads, an ancient and powerful female deity who possessed the power to see in three directions at once. Apparently, she had been helping many people find uncountable ways of entering the United States because of her ability to see in so many directions, but not so much here in this city.
This city was not known as one of the major crossover points through which illegal aliens from Mexico came into the United States never to return to their country teaming with poor, bewildered people and corruption. This city was legit! Mexicans knew they could cross over into the States and buy goods, which were either scarce or nonexistent in their own country. As a result, officials looked the other way, most of the time, because the trade that went on in this desert city was far more important than the size of the city and its dry and resentful environment would indicate. Cars and those on foot crossed over and into the western state and returned filled with goods that were far too lucrative to let such an insignificant thing like National Security stand in the way! Consequently, the security presence was small and only slightly vigilant. In fact, security was so underrated that the safety measures at the United States Border Control Station had even been outsourced to Mexican officials who checked the vehicles that crossed into the coveted giant neighbor to the North.
Fifty-five miles north, two very tired men ducked their heads and climbed out of a private Jet that had landed on a dirt runway that didn’t exist officially on any map. They jumped into an awaiting small Ford Escort and in three minutes they were making tacks and headed south, cruising down Arizona 19 while also in minutes, the private jet was airborne again. The destination was this small but well-known city/town town of Nogales.
Sixty miles south another vehicle, loaded with office furniture and briefcases, was headed North on Mexico 15. The two highways converged on the US side of the border that ran through the middle of Nogales.
April 14, 2009 7:35 PM
“So where the hell is he?” President Tate demanded to know.
“He is the chief of staff and has a few things to do around here!”
The door to the Oval Office opened and Jamie O’Rourke walked in.
“Where have you been all day?”
“Mr. President, don’t you remember the Lincoln Day dinner you couldn’t bear to attend and sent me to?”
“Up in, where was it, Nome, Alaska?”
“Yes sir. Weather was pretty good and love those blubber burgers!”
“We’ve got a problem Jamie.”
“Am I supposed to be shocked? All we ever do is deal with problems.”
“Why did I ever want this job?” Tate whined shaking his head.
“One, I don’t think you mean that and two, if I thought you did I’d resign right now and three, you like the retirement benefits?”
“Yea, they’re good, but I’ll probably get assassinated before I benefit from any of those perks.”
Jamie didn’t even look up when those words were uttered.
“Anyway, Jamie, back to our problem. I just got word that Harrison escaped!”
“More like stolen, I heard.” Jamie added.
“You know about this already?”
“Where was I all day Mr. President? News didn’t have to travel too far even in the frozen tundra! I was told that some kind of Paramilitary strike took place and he was hauled off with one of our agents who you placed at the prison to keep watch over that black sheep. Seems Fisher knew nothing about it. Anyway, I guess you do have a problem there, but we’ve got bigger problems than your fear of death or of hiding your skeletons.”
“Jamie, sometimes I wonder about your allegiance to me?”
“Allegiance to you? You should have no worries about that at all. I am in allegiance to the United States of America! I would think you’d have it no other way and that is why I serve you, and it is why I am up before most terrorists are and why I have gone to such lengths to keep you here and make sure you get a round two. But the nation always comes first for me. So, Mr. President, get your mind off of this guy you locked away for life. I think you should sit down and let me tell you what is happening right now as we speak and why we cannot stop it unless we act immediately.
“Atash, do you know what to say?”
“Of course, ‘Pesos, Pesos’!”
“This is not a joke! The resemblance we have to Mexicans may be passable but there’s that thing called Spanish.”
“Jalil, you worry too much! En Shallah, everything will go well, and anyway we will probably have to say nothing with this in my hand.”
The Muslim driver of a van carrying office supplies across the border waved a large stack of $100.00 bills. Their cargo demanded that they spread the wealth before they spread some death.
“This is a breakthrough for Jihad! For once, we won’t be doing the damage. Could we have ever hoped that there would be such a well organized effort by Americans themselves to destroy their own nation and serve Allah in the process?”
“Allah is great!”
“What?” President Tate shouted in utter horror!
“Yes sir, we have very valid and verifiable reports that somewhere along our border with Mexico a large number of tactical nukes are being transported into the United States.”
“When did these reports come in?”
“When I walked into my office, a field agent was faxing these reports to me and they were coming over the machine as entered my office.”
Jamie bent down and picked up his file off of a stack of documents he had brought into Tate’s office for signing. When he bent down he grunted loudly and rubbed his chest.
“What’s wrong with you? Don’t you die on me. All heart attacks, strokes or any kind of illness are temporarily forbidden!”
“I’m fine, just strained my back, I guess. Mr. President, we need to seal the border!”
“Oh, well, I’ll get on that right away! Are you crazy? That’s more than 2000 miles between San Diego and Brownsville! We’d have to pull troops out of every country they currently operate in to do that and…”
“Not so, Mr. President. We can activate several militia groups and use them to do what they do best.”
“What would that be, killing illegals and then we’ll have the Alamo all over again!”
“Chris…Mr. President, these guys will either be our enemies or they will join our enemies! You called the Minutemen vigilantes! You refuse to enlist the help of those who love the nation and now you’re afraid of Mexico? Whose border is it anyway and what are you going to do about this?”
“Do you have Intel on where the nukes could be coming in?”
“Yes sir! Somewhere along a two-thousand mile line!”
“Stop it Atash!”
“Sweating! You look too terrified! What if the Sheik had ordered you to lay it down? Allah will prevail and make a way!”
“Yea, you mean, what is it they call them…Dead Presidents?”
“I have them in hand! We will use US dollars, US mercenaries and US laws to give them Jihad terror!” Jalil declared.
Even Atash livened up as they pulled up to the gate.
Just over the border from the Mexican side of Nogales or just at the border on the US side, depending on how one viewed it, was a place that even bore the name, ‘Borders’ and it wasn’t a bookstore. Americans who wished to venture into the same area from which so many people wished to escape frequented this place. This large store had just about everything and in Pesos or in dollars. This was certainly the best place to get goods from the States that could not be got in Mexico and taken back across without any harassment or impediment. The store was not an amazing thing in any real unique way. It made a lot of money for its owner and it was its owner that was the special commodity. The proprietor was not Mexican, Indian or American or Irania. He was Korean.
Lee Kun Hee or his self-imposed American name, Henry was an unassuming man, a specialty amongst Asian people, but the Koreans had seemed to make a science out of practicing humility and piety. Henry had been there for many years and his bank account was far bigger than even his well-placed store could provide. It was about to become a good deal bigger too. Henry had come to America in the early 1990’s as a refugee from North Korea. He bore the marks of the brutal regime in Pyongyang. No one knew and he had almost made himself forget that he had received the marks and scars across his back and chest quite willingly. They had made his story so much more believable! How else could a red-blooded spy from the North Korean Communist government implant himself in this country? It had worked too!
Like a bridge between insanity and mayhem, two vehicles were steadily converging on Henry’s store. From the south and headed north, two Iranian Jihadists pulled up to the gate that, if opened to them, would change the face of the American Republic forever.
Jalil looked at the posted officials at the border crossing. He could not believe that the man who would be dealing with him and his fellow terrorist was not American at all but a Mexican national, which made the payoff game even easier and sweeter all the way along. Jalil pulled out two forged Mexican passports and phony shipment documents, which read ‘Office furnishings’. The similarities of their faces to the typical Mexican and the various dark-skinned Muslim radical was uncanny! They looked so much alike! Jalil handed the passports to the Mexican guard. The guard doubted their honesty and demanded all their verification. Jalil pulled out a very thick wad of US dollars and the passports were immediately stamped and the van pulled into the center of destiny!
The Ford Escort with Wyoming plates headed south down Arizona 19 and had just past the sign that read, Nogales, Arizona. That told them that they had almost completed half of their voyage. The other half would be an immediate return back to where they had started.
“Len! Len wake up you sorry ass!”
“What? Where are we?”
“Where are we? We are at Armageddon’s door my brother. The posse has arrived!”
Len Garret rubbed his eyes and turned a bottle of Scotch up to his lips.
“This stuff’s about the only thing that wakes me up anymore. Pull around back Frank.”
“In back? Don’t that look out of the ordinary?”
“Well, we ain’t far from it, so just do what I told ya, ok?”
“Yavool, Mein Fuehrer!”
Garret’s cohort drove to the back of the large wooden structure and both Garret and his driver saw the large van marked ‘Nogales office furniture’. They parked and walked inside.
“Mr. Lee, what we have is a cavalcade of diversity! Three nationalities, all hating the same place, all seeking the same thing!” Len shouted!
“Mr. Garret! How are you? Got your fax! Is there something I can interest you in today, sir?”
“Ah, yes, I need a load of briefcases and I’m on a tight schedule. I have a feeling my business is going to explode soon!”
Everyone in the room started laughing, including the two Iranians who were seated in the room next to the main shop. They would not see each other’s faces! The whole thing took only ten minutes to transact and the Ford Escort was headed north again to where they had left only hours before and where they had left two new members of the Brotherhood of Patriots still waiting for their orders; ten minutes, a far longer period of time than it would take to destroy America’s resolve, her economy and her very existence as a nation.
The lights were burning late at the Pentagon and in the White House this night. In countless homes in virtually every state in the union, men and women were filling their suitcases, kissing their wives, husbands and babies goodbye and heading to a myriad of locations by air, rail and road. As passenger planes and military chopper filled the skies, while trains rolled on rail and cars roared down highways filled with GI’s all headed southward and trying to stop one lowly and unsuspecting car that was already headed north unimpeded like a mobile weapon of mass destruction singing, “Amazing Grace, How sweet the sound!”
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Steven Clark Bradley - Published Authors.com
Steven Clark Bradley at Blog Talk Radio.com
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Steven Clark Bradley at Inspired Author.com
Steven Clark Bradley - Nimrod Rising
Author Steven Clark Bradley
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