It Ain't Paranoia if... Pt. 02 Ch. 09

"No!" I replied too loudly. "I'm sorry - as you well know, I'm a planner, and this announcement made me reconsider all my plans."

Then I gave them my best smile. "Know what I came up with? This will only double the joy! Our kids can be ring bearers and flower girls, you lovely ladies will walk down the aisle separately, a minute or so apart and..."

I never got to finish, because I was smothered in happy women and hugged way too tightly by a big, burly dude.

Not being needed for the remainder of the planning, Claude and I adjourned to the patio for a beer or few, Armageddon be damned. Word spread quickly about the change in plans, and about our location and activities; soon we were joined by Los Viejos, El Hermano, y otros hombres sin servicio.

The 'old men', Clay, and the six other security men who weren't on duty that day, which included Felix, Armando, and JJ, did a great job of helping Claude and I celebrate. So great, in fact, that the womenfolk decided to stay inside, after a brief period of listening from the doorway.

They seemingly decided we should receive the harassment alone.

It was clear we didn't have enough beer, so Claude and I retrieved a pony keg of our favorite brew from the walk-in cooler, and we did manage to float it before midnight.

The next morning was difficult. My head really, really hurt, and my stomach churned. The old saying, "Whiskey on beer, have no fear..." apparently does not apply to taking shots of Tito's vodka after a dozen cups of beer. I didn't get up until nine, and I was the first of the men to appear.

Kaitlyn and Eva were walking-on-air talkative, and totally devoid of sympathy. I swear they talked louder and more than normal and kept discussing disgusting foods that made my stomach want to heave, until I did, over the patio railing: alcohol poisoning, I'm sure. After that, they kept their distance, but I began to feel better.

I made yet another vow never to overindulge again, and hoped this time, perhaps the twentieth time I'd made that particular vow, it would stick. Probably not, but it seemed to help at the time. I don't drink often, and never when I'm morose, but when celebrating something special, I sometimes try to make up for it.

I think the women put her up to it, but Ash called full of news about the European oil, gas, and pipeline deals, and wanted to discuss everything in detail. While I believed my fiancée and Ashley were trying to make me pay for getting shitfaced, talking about business cleared my head. I drank 32 ounces of water during our conversation, and decided to sweat the alcohol out.

I informed security and took off down the mountain wearing heavy grey sweats. I ran all the way to the gate and back to the house, and then drank water 44 ounces of water. My head was clear, my sweats were soaked, and I was hungry, so I showered, changed, threw the wet sweats and socks into the washer, and joined the group around the dining table.

The four Viejos and both women gave me a hard time at first, but after I described how good I felt they gave up in favor of making fun of the men with green skin and bloodshot eyes. I ate quietly, listened without comment, and excused myself; I had a couple of calls to make.

JJ excused himself at the same time, gathered the "Ghostbusters" gear he had been hauling around the house for two days, and went upstairs. So far, he hadn't identified any kind of electronic surveillance, but he remained convinced it was happening and approached each room and device as if the culprit was within. I left him to his devices and went into my well-searched office to make my calls.

Getting drunk isn't good for your brain, but there is sometimes a brief period of "enlightenment" just before you get blitzed, and we had achieved that last night as a group. At least it seemed that way at the time.

My first call was on our secure line, to Esteban, who was with his team at the Crescent Moon. He assured me they had found no inkling that the Colonel and Major were anything other than what they were purported to be. Relieved, I presented my - our - idea; he liked it, and said he would have someone get right on it.

Major Rogers was next. He listened, asked questions, said he would immediately discuss it with Colonel Adams, and promised to call me back within the hour.

My third call was to Paul Peveto; he liked the idea as well, and said he would coordinate with the West Texas Rangers.

My final call was to Raymundo, whom I personally invited to the two days of wedding festivities. After his enthusiastic congratulations and acceptance, I asked how he felt about our idea, and whether he could implement a similar process; he could.

The phone calls kind of sapped me, and I felt a sinking spell coming on. That wasn't uncommon after the hangover, exercise, and meal trifecta, so I snuck upstairs for a nap. That worked perfectly for an hour or so, until Fuck Bunny wondered where I disappeared to and found me in bed. I awoke with a tongue in my mouth and a hand stroking my cock. As soon as I stirred, Bunny straddled me, demanding I give her what I couldn't last night.

Understand, I have no complaints, but being yanked out of the depths of a sinking spell and sexually used by a wanton woman left me even more dazed than I had been earlier. Luckily, she wanted to snuggle and nap after we were satisfied, allowing me to resume my nap... which ended abruptly when the kids got home from school.

****

The "brilliant idea" upon which we arrived while three sheets in the wind on LSD (Lone Star Draft), was rather simple: using our resources to 'map' outward from the Crescent Moon and Mountain Lair. 'Mapping' included using drones, planes, helicopters, and, when needed, men on foot, horseback, or ATVs, to search for hidden arms, personnel, or anything else belonging to insurgents, but it also included electronic searches for insurgents locally and area-wide.

No one seems to know where 'they' are, but 'we' collectively believe they are in Mexico and New Mexico - but what if we're wrong?

What if they have assets closer that could attack us immediately? Tracking the sicarios in Mexico is important, but what if we have a homegrown hit squad hiding in the brushy canyons and caves of the Davis, Glass, Chalk, Christmas, Rosillo, or Chisos mountain ranges, or elsewhere in the canyons, valleys, brushlands, abandoned mines, or caves of the Trans-Pecos region?

Tom says satellites have been tasked to watch for movement, but we don't have immediate access to the feed. Our proposed project may identify and provide details the satellites don't, and we would know immediately.

If our low-flying airborne assets stray across the river, so what? Geographically, it's just a river, and the mountains on the other side are part of the same chains. Neither geographic feature would keep enemies from staging attacks from Mexico, a fact exemplified by the canyon filled with foreign terrorists and mercenaries that Raymundo uncovered. Maybe there are more, closer.

The ISR will be delving into records, as well as current communications among persons known to be insurgents, while the aircraft "map" the terrain. We know beyond a shadow of a doubt there are insurgents and/or sympathizers in Fort Davis, Alpine, Marfa, Van Horn, and probably most other towns in the Trans-Pecos, but how well are they armed, how good are their communication capabilities, when and where do they meet, and how dangerous are they?

As Sun Tzu posited, "Military intelligence is the key to war; without it you cannot win."

At my insistence, the major and colonel agreed to keep our little project local and need-to-know only. That meant using the minimum number of personnel necessary on our end, and not informing the chain of command.

Truth be told, I wasn't sure they had routed all the rats in the command chain quite yet. They'd probably figure out what we're up to in a few days, but perhaps by then we will know what we need to know.

We organized in one day, and they flew the first missions that night. The colonel was there for support; the pilots were the major, Jacki, Paul, Pablo, a friend and comrade from Paul's time in Afghanistan whom he had recruited and brought into our ranks, and four pilots who had served with Major Rogers.

The Sheriff was there to oversee and give guidance, because he knew the area so well, and was so highly placed in the command structure of the Rough Riders. Having him and Paul involved would give immediate credence to any findings disclosed to the other Rough Rider and Ranger leaders.

Other than the cars and viewers accumulated at the "Marfa Lights Viewing Area" on US 90, and a big party northwest of Alpine at a ranch owned by a SRSU professor, we saw little of concern.

Except at a usually deserted ranch east of Fort Davis, where thirteen pickups and SUVs were parked, and twenty-one people, including two women, were gathered around a firepit outside the old ranch house. The vehicles included a familiar jacked-up pickup with flags hanging from poles set in the sidewalls of the bed.

The Sheriff cried wolf, the pilot activated the directional audio, and they surreptitiously attended and recorded a meeting of the Jeff Davis Freedom Force. What they heard and saw was enlightening, and proved the value of our clandestine efforts.

When the UAVs were safely ensconced back home, Major Rogers and his three pilots selected eight more they unanimously trusted, and plans were made for nightfall. Meanwhile, the less covert mapping continued, extending out over parts of Pecos County to the east, Crane and Ward to the northeast, Reeves and Culberson to the north, Presidio to the Southwest, and Brewster, the largest county in the state, to the south and southeast. By necessity, these efforts were conducted at higher altitudes, as we're talking about an area greater than 30,000 square miles to surveil from the air; and that's without mentioning the adjoining Mexican states of Chihuahua and Coahuila.

I spent the night happily clueless, spooning in my bed after an hour of sexual gymnastics that again proved my need for the workouts to which Felix was subjecting me.

The urgent summons I got from Crescent Moon, delivered via text while I sipped my first, perfect cup of coffee, meant that my blissful state would soon be altered.

****

Dr. Eva had acquired Ana, a Nurse Practitioner (NP), to assist with her practice two days a week. Just before the wedding, she would be the medical provider at the clinic for a week while Eva was on her honeymoon. This was one of her days off, so Addy was flying her, Kaitlyn, and Ashly, with JJ and Felix as security, "to acquire necessities for the weddings in Austin."

Preparations were moving right along, although the sweet simplicity of my plan had been tinkered with by the ladies, who were unable to leave well enough alone. Claude and I tried to explain that every bright idea someone had did not have to be incorporated, and that every 'improvement' had an equal chance of becoming a problem instead, but we were dismissed due to our lack of creative thinking.

Regardless of their creativity, the date crept closer and they kept adding to the To Do list.

My part was done, other than paying the bills; this was true for Claude as well, so we refocused on preparations for the upcoming insurrection, which at this point were directed at gathering intelligence.

"Major, have you seen any form of congregation in our immediate vicinity, large or small?" Claude asked.

"We have not, but we've only begun. Given the festivities planned a week from now; we're also covering that area like a fine-tooth comb. We have seen some evidence of activity in and around two of the larger abandoned mines near Shafter, and one just north of Terlingua. It's most likely commercial, so we're checking on that, but on the outside chance the mines are being used to store weapons or men, they are receiving priority surveillance.

"As far as congregations that can't be readily explained, we've seen nothing else that looks like last night's meeting, but it's likely they meet at night, and we've only had the one night of surveillance. Having the Sheriff involved is extremely helpful, as he is very knowledgeable about and engaged in the events in this area. He laughed us off a couple of events last night that would have wasted time and resources, and alerted us to what we soon learned was a meeting of the 'effin F'ers', as we're calling them now.

"He and the county judge will take turns providing guidance at night; hopefully, that will allow us to expand our efforts more quickly."

"Major, what's your take on the maneuvers that recently ended?" I asked. "Do you agree with the Colonel that we are well prepared for any eventuality?"

He laughed. "Anytime you're sure you've got it all covered, you're going to be surprised! That said, I do believe we are as prepared as is possible. Furthermore, I know Colonel Adams is a wizard when bullets start flying.

"We've been parts of a joint force twice - in Iraq and in Afghanistan - so I've seen him in action during combat.

"In Iraq, he had been given a poor plan of action by the commanding general's staff; a plan based on bad intelligence that would have gotten a lot of our men killed. He worked with it and around it, and got the job done without loss of life among the allied forces. More amazingly, he did that without drawing the ire of those responsible for the ill-conceived plan.

"Another time, in the eastern mountains of Afghanistan near the Pakistan border, he proved to me that he would use his assets to get the job done, regardless of invisible lines on maps. More amazingly, he did that without drawing the ire of the state department, which is extremely touchy about invisible lines that can't be seen from above.

"There are many other tales I could tell, but I guess that's my way of both endorsing his capabilities as our leader, and reiterating that we're as prepared 'for any eventuality' as we can be with him in command.

"Now, as to the preparedness of our troops and weapons: I've never been with a battalion as well prepared as this one! We have highly trained forces equipped with the finest equipment, and some Russian, PRK, and Chinese junk as well. If we get overwhelmed, we either encountered an equally well-armed, brigade-size invasion force or got nuked.

"Short of something that unlikely happening, whoever comes at us, whatever they throw at us, we will prevail: I'm certain of it!"

"Well, alrighty then!" Claude proclaimed. I nodded, smiling from ear to ear, and feeling better than I had in a long time. The idea of Americans killing Americans on Texas soil still disturbs me, but when you align yourself as and with sworn enemies of the United States of America, and begin killing Americans...

We left the compound with some spring in our steps; we couldn't see anything standing in the way of our weddings, which were only a week away. We drove back to the Lair, reviewing the males' roles for the three days of festivities, and talked about our honeymoon plans.

On a whim, we turned left onto the 6400 instead of right to the house, and ended up on top of a long mesa that tested the four-wheel drive pickup Claude was driving. The mesa overlooks the long valley that runs down the middle of the ranch, which is currently leased as a "combat exercise site" by the Texas Air National Guard. The site isn't approved for live munitions, but pilots use dummy bombs, JDAM-equipped dummy bombs, and JSOW dummy bombs to practice destroying dummy targets.

The contract requires 'immediate' removal of all munitions, targets, and debris, so the grasslands in the valley look almost pristine as we gaze down on them. We use this setting and time to dig more deeply into the situation we face, and our attempts to continue living 'normal' lives in the face of looming warfare.

During our conversation I learn that Claude's feelings about facing danger have moderated considerably now that he has a wife and children, as have my own. He also has serious concerns about American-on-American violence, but very little about killing terrorists, mercenaries, and foreign fighters.

I thought for a moment, and attempted to explain my new position. "If only we could discern, Claude. But we can't, and I've reached the conclusion that those who align themselves with terrorists, mercenaries, and foreign invaders in an attempted conquest of our democratic republic are no more deserving of mercy than their allies.

"As you know, the ISR has confirmed that the enclave in Mexico that Raymundo is observing includes members of the so-called Wagner Group, and North Koreans planes and missiles are supposedly going to be attacking here and Austin.

"And how about someone hiring sicarios, trained killers, to go after soft targets like our families? I'll admit I've had reservations, but in the last few days I've adopted a 'fuck'em all' attitude! I may die, but we may also end all thought of invasion under the guise of insurrection!

"The idea of being allied with Putin's private military company, 'respected comrade' Kim Jong-un's air force, and sicarios should be enough to scare off any American, regardless of how disaffected, but we see no sign of that! Therefore, 'fuck'em all'!"

Claude smiled at me, and clasped me on the shoulder. "Has my centrist, pragmatic boss turned into a right wing-nut?" he teased.

"Not in my mind. What we're doing is pragmatic, not political. This motley collection of Nazis, communist sympathizers, Black and White Supremacists, Anarchists, and 'religious' zealots wants to destroy and replace our system of local, state, and national governments with some forms of despotism in which they dictate to us. In my humble opinion, refusing to allow that to happen is pragmatic, not political. Don't you agree?"

"I do, and I'm hereby adopting your motto: fuck'em all! They may start this shit, but we're going to end it!"

Neither of us thought we had phone service up here, but we both got texts saying the women were staying overnight in Austin to complete their shopping, and we needed to take care of the children. That got us in the truck and off the mesa just in time to meet the Green Team turning in at the opposite gate. I called Porter's Pit Stop to order pizza, wings, and salad for supper, to be picked up at 5:30, and we followed the kids and their security team into the house.

We played a little basketball with them, helped with their homework by seeing they did it, and then set the table for the feast Armando and Alex had picked up from Porters.

I ordered so much pizza and so many wings that everyone on duty that day had a few wings and pizza slices. We topped off that nutritious meal with bowls of ice cream, but only after extracting promises that the children would never tell their mothers what we fed them!

One action movie later, we sent them to bathe and get ready for bed. Their moms called, they lied about their supper and the action movie, and they retired to bed happy about all the rules we broke while the moms were gone, and about their dads' new status as the "cool parent." That status would undoubtedly be short-lived, and we would catch hell when their moms found out the truth, but, hey, Claude and I were 'cool' for one night!

We did get them up and ready to go the next morning, fed them a nutritious breakfast, and escorted them to school on time, so it wasn't all lax parenting. They had fun, we had fun; what was the harm? Still, I'd have them tell the truth once mom was home. We don't want lying to become endemic, especially with the teen years lying ahead.

Speaking of lying, Kaitlyn was just a little off when I called her this morning. "Hi, Honey! Did you girls have fun last night?"

A brief hesitation, then a voice that was trying too hard. "Of course! We stayed in the hotel all night. We even ate in the restaurant. Never left the building."