Forgotten Forbidden America: Rise of Tyranny Read online

  “Hey Nelson,” Daren said, walking by to look at the stuff. “Just opened mine as well, and I’m excited about the new bows.”

  “I wasn’t that impressed with the prototypes,” Nelson said and took a sip of coffee.

  “They fixed it,” Daren smiled. “Hey, I was just wondering if we put a larger display just outside the doors to announce the new lines if you think it would do some good?”

  Shaking his head, Nelson said, “We are already putting out a new catalog, flyers, with a TV and radio campaign. When you throw in the internet advertisement, that’s quite a large sum we have invested on their merchandise. The way I see it, if the customer is already at the store, we’ve done our job.”

  Daren sat down and sighed. “Nelson, it will be hunting season, and even when we double staff, we can’t get to all the customers, and they walk around looking for the new merchandise.”

  Thinking about that, Nelson leaned back. “Well, why don’t we put up small, fluorescent, orange signs signaling new merchandise? That shouldn’t cost much, and the stores can order them locally. One sign at the front of the store won’t do much to help with that,” he finally said.

  Laughing, Daren slapped his thigh. “That’s why they pay you the big bucks.”

  “I wish I got paid the big bucks the CEOs get paid,” Nelson said, nodding.

  “Huh,” Daren huffed, “you and I wouldn’t know what to do with that type of money.”

  “True,” Nelson nodded. “Hey, did you hear about the market crash in China and Japan?”

  “No,” Daren said, standing. “Why would I care? They are on the other side of the world.”

  “Ah, they own a lot of our debt.”

  Daren shrugged. “I know lots of people who don’t pay their debts. Hell, I can take you down to the credit department and show you the ones that don’t pay the credit cards we give out,” Daren said.

  Shocked at Daren’s answer, Nelson just took a sip of coffee. “See you online at ten,” Nelson said as he tilted his head back as Daren walked out. Nelson picked up his phone and told Mildred about the new signs. When he hung up, she scurried off to make one.

  Turning on his computer, Nelson could only find small, one or two-line stories about the Asian crash on the network sites. When he went to the alternative news sites, the boards were almost on fire with news. He read over the entries as his cellphone went off.

  Looking at the screen, he smiled at Michelle’s text. “Holy f**king shit and balls that’s bad.” He typed back that he agreed.

  “What do you think?” she typed back.

  “That we don’t need to type on cellphones what we think or will do.”

  “Oops, sorry. You are going to stop by and pick up the paychecks, right?”

  “It’s payday of course. See you tonight,” he typed then realized how paranoid that previous text sounded. “Shit, with our government spying on us more than terrorists, it’s not too paranoid,” he concluded out loud.

  The rest of the day went off without a hitch, and several times during the day, Nelson would turn to his computer and check on the markets. All the markets were holding steady, but on the alternate websites, all kinds of stories continued.

  Gathering up the test equipment, Nelson carried it out to his truck and was able to leave early. He headed to the bank because it was payday, and his and Michelle’s checks were deposited directly into their accounts. When he walked in, the bank manager came over and pulled Nelson to the side.

  “Mr. Jackson, I’m sorry, but we can’t let you pull out the money you usually do,” the manager said.

  Hearing that, Nelson took a step back as he said, “Excuse me?”

  “We can’t let you pull out the money you usually pull out every two weeks,” the manager repeated.

  Nelson forced himself to remain calm. “Sir, you will give me my money, or I’ll go to the nearest radio station and tell them to broadcast what you just said,” he warned, making the manager go pale.

  “Mr. Jackson, the Federal Reserve issued a statement requesting all withdrawals over two thousand dollars be canceled,” the manager whispered.

  Shaking his head, Nelson replied, “I don’t care. It’s my money, and if you don’t give it to me, it’s radio time,” Nelson replied in a low voice.

  The manager straightened up and paled. “Very well, but come to my office. I don’t want other customers to see,” he said, turning around and walking into an office.

  When Nelson walked in, the manager handed him a withdrawal slip. “What’s my balance?” Nelson asked, sitting down.

  Huffing, the manager walked over to his computer. “Seven thousand four hundred nineteen dollars and six cents.”

  Knowing what checks were out, Nelson said, “Seven thousand dollars,” and filled out the slip, and the manager turned red.

  “You usually keep several thousand in your account,” the manager almost growled.

  “Listen, it’s my money, not yours. Did you work for it?” Nelson popped off that his account was watched that close. The manager took the slip and walked out. Nelson leaned back in the chair till the manager came back in. “It’s not like you have that many people withdrawing that much.”

  “Good day, sir, and I can assure you when you return in two weeks this won’t repeat,” the manager threatened, motioning to the door.

  Leaving the bank, Nelson felt nervous after the exchange and unconsciously put his hand on his pistol. It didn’t matter he had done the exact same thing every two weeks for the last five years. When he got his bonus the year before, the bank never hesitated to hand him forty-six thousand dollars. He figured in the last five years, he had pulled well over a million dollars out.

  Jumping in his truck, he sped out of the bank and headed to his next stop. He used to go to the Gold Shop, a store that sold precious metals. After the first year, the owner, seeing the amount of gold he was buying, told Nelson to come to his house. Driving to the other side of Springfield, Nelson pulled into a very nice house in an expensive neighborhood.

  Getting out of his truck, Nelson headed to the front door as an elderly man opened it. “You’re early,” he called out, shaking Nelson’s hand.

  “Finally got off early for once, Jerry.” Nelson smiled and followed him inside.

  “Five gold eagles again?” Jerry asked.

  “Yeah, and two thousand dollars in silver,” Nelson said, pulling out the cash. “Jerry, do you take credit cards?”

  Jerry paused, holding his hand out for the cash. “You haven’t used a credit card in years,” he said, shocked.

  “They told me if I don’t start charging stuff on it, they are going to cancel it,” Nelson chuckled.

  Laughing, Jerry took the money. “That seems right. Use our card and buy stuff so we can make money. How much was you figuring?”

  “Another five ounces gold and six rolls of silver coins,” Nelson answered.

  Cringing, Jerry said, “Don’t have another five gold eagles, but I got five Canadian one-ounce maples.”

  “You have any of those half-ounce eagles?” Nelson asked.

  “Sure, not many want those,” Jerry said as Nelson pulled out a credit card. “You are getting a deal today. Gold took a dive,” Jerry said, turning around and walking over to a safe.

  “A dive?” Nelson asked in a quiet voice.

  “Yeah, the government dumped several tons on the market. Went from eleven hundred an ounce to six hundred and change. I can’t go that low, but since I’ve been doing business with you for so long, how about six fifty an ounce, and I’ll throw in the half eagles to make up the difference?” Jerry offered, pulling out his phone to run Nelson’s card.

  Shrugging, Nelson answered, “Sounds good to me.”

  “If your credit card calls you, tell them you are buying jewelry,” Jerry said, running the card, and Nelson just looked at him, confused. “If you tell them you are buying coins, they have to log it. I usually don’t have to worry about that with you, but you’re using a credit c
ard this time.”

  Sure enough, a few minutes later, Nelson’s phone rang, and the credit card company was questioning him about his purchase. When he told them jewelry, they were more than happy to approve the transaction. “That was weird,” Nelson said, hanging up.

  Jerry turned around, holding a velvet sack in one hand, and started counting out plastic-covered gold coins, dropping them in the bag. “You’re doing the right thing buying gold, son,” Jerry said, reaching back for more coins. “It’s about to get bad. The cash you gave me today and the credit card purchase will clear me on the order I placed today. You make sure you don’t keep these in your home,” Jerry said as he reached back and grabbed several plastic rolls of silver coins.

  “You’re that sure?” Nelson asked, getting really worried.

  Nodding, Jerry handed over the bag, and Nelson was shocked at the weight. “Yep, I figure in a month, the government will stop the transfer of gold between people and businesses from selling it, forcing people to use only money and save money only in a bank.”

  Holding out his hand, Nelson looked at Jerry with worry. “I hope you’re wrong,” he said as Jerry shook his hand.

  “I won’t be able to fill your order next week,” Jerry said. “When this shipment gets here Saturday, I’m closing shop and heading to my ranch. If this blows over, I’ll catch you up.”

  “You think that crash in Asia is going to bring us down that fast?” Nelson asked.

  “Already has. That’s why the government has dumped so much gold on the market. People are selling like crazy. The government is buying time, hoping those nations won’t come asking for their money.”

  Putting the velvet bag under his jacket, Nelson turned for the door. “I hope you’re wrong, but part of me doesn’t think so,” Nelson said. “Take care of yourself.”

  “You do the same. Remember; don’t keep the gold in your house when it starts to crash. You didn’t leave many traces when you purchased from me, but they will know you have gold and other metals. Your withdrawals from the bank will back that up,” Jerry said as Nelson opened the door.

  “Hope you have lots of friends with guns then, Jerry. Because if they come after me, they will send the cavalry after you,” Nelson said, walking out.

  “That’s why I’m gone as soon as the shipment gets here Saturday, and I have family with lots of guns. Hitler took them from us once, but we vowed to never be unarmed again,” Jerry smiled.

  “You need to tell some congressmen and women that,” Nelson said, walking off the porch.

  A look of disgust crossed Jerry’s face. “That wench was the type of Jew who sold other Jews to the Germans,” he almost spat. “You keep that family safe.”

  Nelson waved and climbed in the truck. As he backed out, he looked at all the cases in the back. Driving down the road, he opened the center console and dropped the velvet bag inside. The several pounds of precious metals hit the bottom with a thunk as Nelson reached for his cellphone and pressed Michelle’s number. Looking at his watch, he saw she should just be getting off.

  “Hey, sexy,” she answered.

  “Hey, hot stuff,” he said, but she could hear the tension in his voice.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing,” Nelson lied, “you going to pick up the kids?”

  “Yeah, I have to take Gavin to get new batting gloves,” she said.

  “Don’t use the checking account. Use a credit card, just not the silver Visa. It’s maxed out,” he said and cringed.

  Silence answered him, and the cringe turned into a panic. “Baby…” Michelle said in a low, scared voice. She knew Nelson and knew panic was not one of his emotions, but he had somehow found it today.

  “I’ll explain, but how about you use the Gold Visa? Make sure your vehicle is full for our trip,” he offered.

  “Will you be home when we get there?” Michelle asked.

  “No, but will you empty the truck, especially the center console?” he asked.

  “Sure, baby, and be careful,” she said. “I love you.”

  “Love you too, hot stuff,” Nelson said and hung up. He pulled into Sam’s and headed inside, thankful they finally took credit cards. An hour later, he was pulling a flatbed cart to his truck and lowered the tailgate to unload it. When he finished, he just shoved the cart to the front of his truck, something he never did. Nelson would always push his cart to one of the small corrals, but not today.

  He sped out of the lot and kept his truck just at the speed limit, heading home. “We need to make a trip to the farm,” he said out loud. Thinking of the farm, he couldn’t help but smile.

  After he had landed his job, he and Michelle had started looking for a place in the country they could head to if things went bad. It was three years ago he found an offer on one of the survivalist forums. A farmer in Missouri was offering lots for survival retreats on his farm. It was three thousand dollars after a background check and six months’ probation to make sure everyone liked everyone, then you could build a cabin.

  He had seen several offers like that on the boards before: farmers making extra money offering their farms as retreats. They made extra money, and if things went bad, they had help running the farm. It was a win-win if everyone got along and did what they said.

  After talking to Michelle, they had called the farmer and filled out a questionnaire and paid for a background check. Once that was done, they drove almost three hours to the other side of Missouri to the southern side of the Mark Twain Forest. There, they met the owners of the farm: Bernard and Nellie Parker.

  Bernard was sixty-four and had bought the eight-hundred-acre farm when he got back from Vietnam and married his sweetheart. Nellie was younger at fifty-seven but looked younger than that as did the robust Bernard, who was a towering six foot four and an easy two hundred and fifty pounds with almost no fat.

  Michelle and Nelson loved the farm at first sight. Its location was beyond perfect. The closest paved road was ten miles away. You had to drive half an hour just to get to a gas station and another fifteen minutes to get to a small town. The farm mainly grew soybeans and alfalfa for hay, and it was bordered on two sides by large creeks and surrounded by National Forest.

  The government had forced Bernard to not cut down three hundred acres of trees, making them part of the National Forest several decades ago. They tried to take his land, but Bernard fought them, and in the end, they let him keep it, but he couldn’t cut down the trees. Six years ago, he took them to court when they tried to sell the timber off his land, claiming the trees were part of the National Forest. Luckily, they backed down and left Bernard alone, secretly hoping he would die so they could take the land.

  Bernard and Nellie didn’t have kids, and that was one of the reasons they wanted to have others on the farm. They needed some help during the year but couldn’t afford to hire anyone with all the government restrictions. One of the agreements for taking a spot on the farm was the family had to come back once a month for a weekend to help.

  Nelson wasn’t happy with that at first but soon found this was what his family needed. Nobody knew crap about farming in his family or Michelle’s. Over the last three years, they had learned so much, and Michelle even had a small garden in the backyard. Nellie taught the wives how to can, store food, and cook from scratch. They were only required to come out once a month, but everyone usually went much more than that. Last summer, Gavin had stayed out there, helping Bernard for a few weeks after baseball.

  Thinking of the others, Nelson chuckled. The only other family was the Wolfe family: Matt, who was a cop here in Springfield, and his wife Ashley, who was a dispatcher. They had a four-year-old girl, Brittany, and a six-month-old son, Mike.

  The other addition was Gerald Wallace, who was single. Gerald was one of the few people Nelson was actually afraid of. He was never mean and only kind to everyone, but Nelson could see Gerald could raise nine kinds of hell. Gerald had retired from the Army after serving twenty-five years, and most of those were
in the Special Forces. When Nelson was in the army, he went to Ranger school but didn’t serve in a Ranger battalion, but he damn sure knew of the Green Berets.

  Gerald did have a younger sister, who he added as part of his family. Nancy was thirty-two, and Gerald had put her through college, and she majored in computers. She had set up a nice system out on the farm but was the only one who didn’t follow the once-a-month weekend stays at the farm. With all the help Gerald put in out there, nobody could really say much; he spent more time out there than anyone beside Bernard and Nellie.

  Pulling into his driveway, Nelson saw Michelle wasn’t home when he pressed the button to open the garage. After carefully pulling the truck back inside, he closed the door, climbed out, disarmed the alarm, and opened the door to see two Rotts waiting on him. “Back,” he said, walking inside. The dogs had a doggie door beside the sliding glass door, so he headed to the bedroom, taking the compact 1911 and holster off, and pulled out a full-sized tactical 1911 and an outside the waistband holster.

  Feeling better with a bigger gun, he exchanged magazines and headed to the kitchen to grab his keys for the Blazer. “Zeus, come. Hera, stay and wait for Momma,” he said, heading for the door and grabbing a leash. Both dogs were trained in obedience and basic attack, but Zeus was almost two hundred pounds of pure German Rott. Nelson figured just the size of Zeus would make others leave him alone.

  He had no problems so far, but he wasn’t taking chances. He clipped the leash on, opened the door, and rearmed the alarm then closed the door and locked it. Leading Zeus over to the Blazer, he opened the passenger door, and Zeus jumped in. Nelson grinned, seeing the truck move in response to the massive dog.

  Walking to the other side, he climbed in and fired up the Blazer then headed back to work. Pulling back in his parking spot, he reached over and cracked the passenger window several inches then did the same to his. “Stay. Guard,” Nelson said, getting out, and Zeus looked around. “I won’t be long,” he mumbled, walking through the employee entrance.

  Several people were surprised Nelson was back but smiled, seeing him grab a shopping cart. Pushing the cart over to the hunting section, Nelson started grabbing thousand-round boxes of 5.56 and loading them into the cart as Daren walked over. “Dude, you starting a war?” he asked, taking a box from Nelson then putting it in the cart.