What can be done when freedom is lost and tyrants consume us with control and heartless policies that do not care if we live our die. Is anything sacred when we no long march to the drumbeat of freedom? That is when everything we value, God, family, liberty and country, and when survival is the driving force. It is a vital and power thing to watch all you knew and loved disappear. Is it far fetched? Read this chapter from my new novel in progress, The Consortium and you be the judge. Steven Clark Bradley
Author of Patriot Acts Nimrod Rising StillBorn! Probable Cause
Chapter Thirty Two
March 13, 2011 3:45 p.m. GMT apropos
“Five seconds to the Consort.” The cameraman informed Berkowitz. Berkowitz saw the cameraman flash his signal to begin.
Berkowitz stared and look from side to side. “Tell me, is there anyone out there?” He said with a straight face. “Seems to me, I would have had the hell scared outta me, if I really believed really believed someone would obliterate my city. Well, let it never be said that Warren Berkowitz wasn’t a man of his word. So, about that threat to drop the big one on Paris if Le Roc wasn’t delivered to me; well, I wasn’t joking. If you’re out there, run like hell, because otherwise, you won’t be there for long. Let’s see if we got enough bang for our buck.”
Raven Rock, Site R
March 13, 2011 7:54 a.m.
Fisher walked into a small room and looked down at a small child sleeping quietly, his child and innocently deserving a more sane world. “The whole world has been blasted to smithereens and my little boy is oblivious to it, and I’m glad for it.” Fisher whispered to Michelle standing by his side. He bent down and kissed his four year old son on the forehead.
Little Nate’s eyes opened, and as soon as he saw his daddy’s face, his mind came to life and he began to scream. “Daddy, I love you daddy.” Fisher took the little boy into his arms and hugged him tightly. “Daddy, where’s my mommy? I want my mommy.” Nate, Fisher and Michelle all cried together and Fisher hugged his son tightly and searched for the proper words to say to his boy who had just lost the most important person in his life.
Fisher placed Nate on his lap and with tears streaming down his face. He looked into his little boy’s confused and scared face. “Nate, your mommy is in a place where we cannot go right now, but no one can ever hurt her again. She is with Jesus now and we will join us later.” Nate knew there was only one way to be with Jesus. “My mommy die, daddy? Why mommy go the Jesus now? I want to go too.” He began to cry and hugged his father.
“Oh, my boy, I forgot how smart you are.” As Fisher took Nate to his shoulder and held him close and let little Nate cry out his sadness. Fisher now knew how well and how much his son understood.
When Nate calmed down, Fisher sat the tortured boy on his leg again. “My son, your daddy has a big job to do. Remember I told you that even if I am not here that you are always in my heart and mind?” Nate shook his head up and down. “Well, daddy has to do something so I can protect you so no matter what, you can grow up a good and be always safe.” Nate’s face showed Fisher that he didn’t understand everything Fisher was trying to say, but he very obviously trusted his father.
“Daddy’s going to be gone for a while.” Fisher turned his head and motioned for Michelle to come over to the bedside. “You remember Michelle?”
Nate looked at Michelle Oh and smiled. “I like her. She play with me a lot.” Both Michelle and Fisher smiled. “Yes, Nate, she is a wonderful woman. She’s going to watch you while I’m gone. Can you be a really big boy for her?” Nate again shook his head up and down. “I know you will.” Fisher picked up Nate and took him fully into his arms. He hugged his son and wept like a child, himself. “Your daddy loves you so much.” Fisher told Nate as he walked over to Michelle with Nate in his arms. Michelle took hold of Nate, but the four year old boy refused to let go of his father’s neck. He wailed and pleaded with his father not to leave him. “I want you to stay. Please no go daddy.”
Fisher too was weeping and Nate had never seen his father cry. Nate’s tears ceased and he reached up to Fisher’s eyes and touched his father’s tears. “Are you afraid, daddy?” Fisher looked at his son and knew that age did not define a child’s depth of understanding. “Yes, my son, I am afraid, for many things.”
Nate smiled and looked into his father’s eyes as though someone had just told him to tell his father something. “I saw mommy last night and she tell me to say something to you.” Fisher looked surprised and waited for Nate to tell him. “She say you not be afraid to fight this war. What’s a war, daddy?”
“Thank you Jesus for the reality of your presence.” He looked at Nate. “How did you get so smart, Mr. Nathan Salyer Harrison?”
“Is that my name?” Nate asked with a look of excitement that it sounded so cool.
“Yes, son, every word of it is you.”
“Nate, wars are evil sometimes and done by people like those who hurt your mommy. Sometimes your daddy has to fight to protect children just like you. So, I need you to fight together with me by being a good boy and staying close to Michelle. Can you help me like that?” Nate shook his head up and down again and put his arms out to Michelle Oh who took him with tears streaming down her face.
“Are you afraid too?” Nate asked her.
“Yes, Nate I am afraid, but I know someone who can take away all our fear, and your mommy is with him right now.”
“My mommy said my daddy not be afraid to fight. She mean you too.” Michelle’s face took on a weepy smile and she hugged him. Fisher made a fist and so did Nate. They both bumped their fists together.
“You pray to Jesus everyday that daddy not be afraid, OK, my little soldier?” Nate shook his head again. “Just like mommy and I pray?” Fisher hugged his son tightly and told him at least five times that he loved him. Fisher walked to the door and opened it. “Bye bye daddy, I love you. Don’t be afraid.” Fisher threw his son a kiss and walked out the door.
“Do you think he’ll actually take out Paris? Hamilton asked. “Pretty soon he’ll have nothing or no one to rule over.”
“Mr. Vice President, I’ve never been much of a god lover, but I am getting closer to becoming one simply because of the evil I see in that man.” Peter replied. “Whit, what you got for us?”
Fisher walked into the control room where, Hamilton, Peter and Whitley were preparing to depart. “Mr. President, how is Nate?” Hamilton asked. Fisher walked over to the control panel and the pain in his expression was obvious to everyone. “I wanted to console him and make him feel safe, but he ended up doing it for me. By the way, Hamilton, have you seen Rachel and your daughter?”
“Yes, they are OK, a bit frightened, but they are keeping the faith.”
“Mr. President, while you were with your son, Berkowitz broadcast a terrible bit of information. He is preparing to launch four missiles at Paris. I am sad to say, that he has already started the sequence.”
“If those bombs detonate over Paris, there will be no survivors.” Fisher said. “How powerful are the missiles?”
“He has armed and fueled four Peace-keepers out of the Lakenheath airbase in Suffolk, in the UK. They MIRV and each have four of the most powerful weapon in the arsenal. There will be nothing left, and nothing will be able to live there for the next three hundred years.”
“Do you think Le Roc did the wrong thing by refusing to capitulate?” Hamilton asked.
“Mr. Vice President, one thing I know, zberkowitz holds no mercy for anyone or anything. We all saw him kill the very person who gave up President Le Roc. Le Roc did just the right thing, and he’ll be remembered for it.”
Suddenly, the satellite sent them the image of four rockets igniting at the same time. The smoke from the ignition and the flames of the rockets filling the sky as the rockets lifted off.
“That means, Paris has about four minutes to live.” Whit said.
“Paris won’t be burning this time.” Peter said with great sadness in his voice. “This time, Paris will be gone.”
“Speaking of gone, isn’t it time we got going too?” Fisher asked.
“Our chopper is ready to take us to an old airstrip on Martha’s vineyard.” Peter told Fisher and Hamilton.
“It’s pretty short, but we’ve stripped her down to get in the air without too much of a roll. We got just one more thing to do first. Whit, give me the satellite feed for Thiers.”
The screen revealed a massive number of troops all stationed about two miles outside of the medieval city of Thiers, Just over the Riviere Durolle ; where the deposed leaders, some meritorious, none able to untie the shoelaces of le Président de la République Française Jean Michel Le Roc, and held up in an old water-fed mill on the outskirts of the city.
“Let’s get them rolling, Whit, and then we will.”
March 13, 2011 3:52 p.m. GMT
“Turn on the sirens all over the city.” Berkowitz ordered.
“Sir, that will create a panic.”
“Exactly! You’re sure a smart one, aren’t you? Where’d you come from, anyway?” Berkowitz asked sarcastically, as he pulled out a gun. “I can tell you right now where you’re going.” The aide fell to the floor with a bullet in his forehead. “Clean this up.” Berkowitz demanded. “I hate stupid. I mean why not let them see what hit them? It’s really a novel approach to genocide.”
Berkowitz picked up a phone simply said, “Do it.”
The European Union
March 13, 2011 3:52 p.m. GMT
Though the electricity had been off for every home in the continent, suddenly, the current began to flow again. Every TV set throughout all of Europe either turned on or switched channels. Across every screen, there was only the fast moving image of an Inter Continental Ballistic Missile headed for impact somewhere and projected from a camera attached to the back of a three hundred kiloton Peacekeeper. The population of Paris had no idea what it exactly was they had all been ordered to watch, earlier in the day. Now they looked at the image and things seemed to get clearer and whatever it was was headed towards the ground.
The French people watched with shock, but not realizing that what they were watching was the end of the ancient city. Soon, the Eifel came into focus, then Notre Dame, The Louvre could be seen passing by as the rocket drew closer to the ground toward its intended target. It didn’t matter where it ultimately landed, but Berkowitz had a point to make.
As European eyes watched the missiles rushing to destruction, the front section of the missile broke apart into four parts. Each of the four sections of the ICBM was a separate warhead that had its own individual target. The Peacekeeper MIRVed and four Multiple Independently Targetable Reentry Vehicles were propelled to their programmed final destination.
Like a revelation of impending disaster, everyone grasped what was upon them. Thousands of sirens began wailing along with blaring audio warnings of an imminent nuclear explosion over Paris. From every corner of Paris, people ran out of their homes and ran in every direction; it was a last dying breath effort to find a safe place to die.
“This is an urgent alert.” Berkowitz face appeared on the screen. “Your wretched City of Paris is about to be struck by four ICBM’s. You are advised to sit down, fold your legs in yoga position, put your head down as far as you can and kiss your ass goodbye. See you in Hell.”
Those who had run out into the streets suddenly stopped and listened to Berkowitz. He seemed as though Lucifer had finally risen out of his pit and brought hell with him. Every single person was speechless and cognoscente that they were all about to die. Everyone seemed to just stare at each other, as though they were silently pleading with each other for a way out knowing none existed.
The silence had stifled the sounds of sirens, warnings and car horns screeching from the thousands of jammed up cars trying to get their families out of the city before the blasts. Then the eerie sounds of panic were suddenly interrupted by sixteen deafening crackling sounds in the air that were reminiscent of a whip snapping against flesh.
Everyone cupped their ears from the pain of the electromagnetic pulse the warheads initially emitted before their destructive force was unleashed. The consuming flash of light that followed and exploded like the power of the sun instantly blinded everyone in the city. The electromagnetic pulse rendered everything dead and no electric flowed due to the destructive forces now at work in the Parisian air. Everyone was already crouched down, lying on the ground or frozen solid with fear, and then, the all consuming heat came after a loud blast that sounded like the rage of Satan unleashing his fury.
The sixteen MIRV warheads ignited and the ferocity and wrath of the pissed off atoms scorched and melted every living thing in inside and fifty kilometers outside of Paris. The Eiffel Tower melted like wax. The treasures of the Louvre were now part of the ash-heap of history, along with a thousand years of heritage with the ashes of millions of charred victims’ bodies mixing and rising high into air along with the ensuing mushroom cloud.
The sky that had been a rich spring blue now looked like chipping paint, as the oxygen was sucked out of the blast area and was now being belched up over the borders of a now obliterated and vanquished people.
15,000 Feet over Southern France
March 13, 2011 4:16 p.m. GMT
“Is there anybody out there? Is there anyone at all?” President Le Roc called out over the aircraft radio. “Il n'y a personne? You can’t all be dead. You can’t be sacrificed just to get me? I am not that important, I have no value to match this great deadly cost.” Le Roc covered his face as he peered out the jet window and down at his city, his nation, his posterity all gone, vanished and rendered unlivable.
“It’s all gone but the ashes.” Le Roc looked out the window and saw the cloud that was rising higher than the jet whisking him to safety. The deadly blast had rattled the aircraft, more than half a country away from ground zero. “I should have given myself for them all. It’s not supposed to be this way. It’s immoral, so wrong.”
Le Roc wilted in his seat and took a knife and to plunge it into his own heart. The pained and terrible sounds of Le Roc’s sorrow woke the sleeping security guards from their sleep. The Chief of Security dove to the aircraft floor and took hold of the president’s hand that was ready to plunge the knife into the French President’s chest. The Security chief fought the knife away from his hand and handed to another guard.
The Chief of Security grabbed the president and hugged him and let him regain his mind, and the chief looked into Le Roc’s face. “Mon President, I know how you feel; yours is the same pain as ours, only multiplied by ten. But I was sleeping and a voice came to me. It said that you would soon understand these words and that I should tell you them. It gave you a direct challenge.”
Le Roc’s body relaxed and he raised his head and looked directly at his chief of security through soaked and swollen eyes. The chief looked back at Le Roc and imparted the message to the president. “The voice said to tell you, don’t be afraid to fight this war.” There was no one out there at all.
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The Second Republic
Steven Clark Bradley
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I hope everyone who reads this will not just think
it is entertainment or the irrational rambling of a scared
American. I am not afraid; I am convinced that no one
will secure our future except us.
That is why I declare the main theme of Patriot Acts
in one key phrase:
Just patriot Acts!
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