A Town Called Freedom

Just after sunset the convoy of vehicles appeared on Route 1776. They came through the narrow gap at the edge of town and entered Liberty Valley. There were four black SUVs, then a large black SWAT style van, followed by four more black and white SUVs.

Bernard Michaels added up the numbers in his head. Each SUV would have four to six inside. The van would probably have twelve, maybe fifteen. Worst case scenario there would be a mix of about sixty federal agents and Highway Patrol.

He radioed this information down to the others. Bernard hoped they were in their positions. Harrison and his heavy gunners at the bushes just past the old Gibson farm. Issac and Elijah taking their post on the roofs of the building downtown. Emmett holding court at home. Scarlett and her group holding their own in the church. Then up in the surrounding mountains, Wesley and the kids should be ready to snipe anyone trying to get away.

The vehicles were coming right up on the first house in town. The Old Gibson farm had been wired to blow. Once they reached the edge of the farmhouse, Harrison would set it off. Then it would be Bernard’s turn to unload. From his vantage point in his attic window he had a clear view of the killing zone. If everything goes to plan it would be easy pickings.

He followed the vehicles through the scope on his AR-15. Bernard had refitted the weapon to be fully automatic. There were six fully loaded magazines along with three more boxes of spare ammunition. There were enough rounds to hold off the invaders long enough so that the rest of the town could regroup. Then Bernard would fall back into the mountains with everyone else. That was the goal. Draw them in, pin them down, and then when their backup arrives, start the guerrilla war in the mountains. It was a perfect plan. As long as everyone followed their individual instructions.

This was going to be the official start of their revolution. The shot heard around the world. There would be a nationwide call to arms. Bernard assumed his name would live on in the history books as America faced a new future after the Battle for Freedom.

Charlotte Michaels was downstairs boarding up the windows, reinforcing the front door, and prepping the rest of the weapons. She had her own AR-15 and a pair of pistols. She also had a few boxes of homemade explosives that her husband and Issac had been experimenting with. They had been setting them off in the mountains. They weren’t big, but more than enough to slow down the invaders.

They had planted mines and scattered broken glass and nails on the roads. Charlotte, along with a few other wives, had been scattering debris anywhere they assumed the invaders would attack. There wasn’t a road into town that hadn’t been covered in some kind of hazard.

There were large and heavy sheets of plywood and sheetmetal that Charlotte still hadn’t hung over the windows. This armor was designed to slow bullets. The old farmhouse Charlotte had turned into a home was now becoming a low budget fort.

There was a large box of ammo on the dining room table and five extra magazines that she had just loaded. She had been practicing quickly loading the magazines so that her husband would always have a full clip at hand.

They were the first line of defense. It was important that they slowed down the invaders. If not then the town could fall before the rest of their patriots were able to regroup in the mountains. Charlotte took all of this very seriously. She and Bernard would not fail.

She turned to call for Emma. Charlotte stopped herself just as her mouth formed the word. She was gone. They had taken her. Another reason to hate the FBI. They kidnapped their only daughter. Brainwashing the child to turn against her family and against the town of Freedom. Charlotte got so angry. She put down the box of ammo and had to compose herself after a couple of deep breaths. When this was all over, they would get her back. That was the only thing Charlotte was fighting for.

“Char,” Bernard called over the radio. “It’s now.”

Charlotte brought the box of ammo up into the attic where Bernard was crouched against a window peering through his scope.

"They're close," she asked before setting the box down next to him.

"Gonna be on us soon."

"You ready?"

"I am. You?"

She picked up one of the magazines and held it out for him.

"As ready as we prepared for."

"They're coming up."

"Do you think those SUVs are bullet-proof?"

"Maybe the SWAT or the feds. The rest are just regular cop cars. Real close now."

Charlotte squeezed the magazine so hard, she felt it crease the skin in her palm. She whispered a prayer asking for God to look over her and Bernard and Emma. She asked God to look over their righteous crusade to free America from communist tyranny. Then she asked for forgiveness for what they were about to do.

Together with her husband they recited the Lord's Prayer. As Bernard reached the phrase, deliver us from evil, his finger squeezed down on the trigger of his gun.